Get On Your Bike and Ride!

It's National Bike to Work Week!  I loooove to ride my bike.  I like just randomly riding around, exploring things, peeking into people's yards to see what kind of patio furniture they have, and most of all, I like not driving.  I'm a really bad driver and I really despise it. Driving is such a waste of time!  I'd rather be my own machine.

So I bike.  Today, I biked to the produce stand.  When I got there, it was closed.  Oh well.

Me at the produce stand that was closed. Bummer.

A few weeks ago I mentioned to my wonderful, cycling-enthusiast friend Jennifer that I wanted to start biking more for errands and whatnot.  She's a city planner who has spent much of her career developing bike-friendly communities, as well as a fellow preschooler mom to a precious little boy who I think had a bike helmet before he had a pacifier.  So, a few days later, some handbooks on urban cycling appeared in my son's cubby at school -- two cycling and walking-related coloring books (I assumed those are for my son), and one pamphlet titled, Riding Confidently, Legally, and Safely.  Apparently she had heard about my driving skills and had concern for my safety should I make good on my plans.

When I was a kid, I would ride my bike all over town and just look at things. I explored neighborhoods.  I looked at spooky houses. I remember the first time I figured out that riding against the wind was much more satisfying than riding with it as long as there was a hill immediately following.  And, if I am being completely honest, I rode around and picked up dead, flattened frogs and saved them in a paper bag in case I needed to exact revenge on someone. It's true. I'm disgusting. So if you went to Clearwood Junior High School and ever found a dead frog in your book bag, it was me getting you back for wronging me somehow. But let's be clear here - I didn't ever touch them with my hands. I picked them up with leaves. I mean, I do have my limits.

ANYWAY.

I'm not going to get to bike to work every day this week, but I am going to shoot for at least one.  Why don't you give it a try, as well? Here are some tips for urban cycling in case you do. But please leave the dead frogs on the ground.

I might need them.

You May Now Refer to Me as a Triathlete

It feels good to have a triathlon in the books.

It feels even better to have it be the Red Hills Triathlon, reported to be the toughest sprint in Florida.

I want to do it again. In fact, all weekend I wanted to go do it again. After having gone through the course once, I had ideas for what I would have done differently and how I could improve, and it was just so much fun that I want another turn! Luckily, doing a triathlon is not a once in a lifetime opportunity so I will definitely be doing it again.

The morning was perfect: clear, sunny skies; temperatures in the 60s; and just gorgeous. My husband and I pulled in about 6:00 am in time for me to get marked with my number, set up my transition station and bike, and realize that I had only packed one sock. Excellent. But running without socks isn't necessarily a deal breaker...and seeing that it was only three miles I shook it off. My husband offered his socks, but vanity overpowered me; his were crew socks. I mean, I do have my dignity. I would look like a total dork! Luckily, the sock gods smiled on me, and my Boy Scout of a husband ran to the car and returned with running socks from his own gym bag; my hero! And they were Thorlos, to boot. Score! Thanks, babe!

Properly socked, we decided to head down to the lake to stretch and watch the sunrise. As I listened to other athletes discuss their apprehensions, and thanked God that I wasn't the only one who was clueless, I peered out into the lake and spied several yellow bouys relatively close to the shore. The swimming leg didn't look bad at all! My confidence rallied; I could definitely do that with no problem.

Then the sun came up, and I saw the actual bouys. The big orange ones really, really, really, far away. Like, eons away. Memories of my first lake swim came to me, but I pushed them away. I had done it before, and I could do it again. No prob. But I kinda wished I had vodka in my water bottle instead of Gatorade.

Before I knew it, I was in my wet suit and standing in the frigid water with the rest of my wave, women aged 39 and younger and wearing bright green swim caps. We were the third group to go, after the young whippersnapper men took off, an idea I am grateful for because some of those guys looked like they could drown me with one stroke. I turned and smiled and waved at my camera-toting husband. Ready or not, I was about to start my first triathlon.

We splashed into the water, and it was begun! The swim was slow; I didn't want to put my face in the water and risk losing my breath like I had the week before, so I sacrificed time in favor of sanity. I side-stroked and back-stroked for .33 mile, and as I rounded the second bouy and came into the last leg of the swim, I felt good. Challenged, but good. I had stayed calm and was surprised it was over so fast. As I came out of the water and began to run up to the transition area, I checked my stopwatch. 18 minutes, about what I had expected. Good.


Transitioning to the bike was a lesson in preparedness. For one, I had neglected to untie my shoes, so valuable time was lost doing that. I also had chosen clothing that was difficult to put on while wet, so another lesson was learned there. But, I had time to shove half a banana in my mouth and gulp some Gatorade before I wheeled my bike onto the course.




I think I was the only person on a mountain bike. But, it got the job done. In fact, as I cycled along the gorgeous canopied hills of one of the more challenging portions, I was so caught up in the beauty of the morning that I had to frequently remind myself that I was in a race. I love to cycle, and it was a nice surprise to be able to chat a little with the other athletes as we biked along. One woman had written "birthday girl" on her number. A girl I passed a couple of times had actually been issued race number 1. Another first-timer and I leap-frogged each other for most of the bike until she surpassed me on the portion where a road bike was a much better advantage than the thick tires of my mountain bike. But all in all, the cycling portion was a breeze, a lot of fun, and really energizing.

By the time I came in from the biking leg, the rest of my family had arrived and cheered me into the transtition station, where the DJ had started playing, "Running on Empty." I smiled; it was a nice little bit of irony, and I hoped it wasn't prophetic. It wasn't: as I parked my bike and got ready to run, I was relieved to find that unlike during all of my brick workouts, my legs felt completely fine. They weren't numb and useless like I had expected. But, that didn't keep the 5k run from being a challenge. I was tired and felt like I was running through glue. In fact, I began to question whether the run was going to be the leg that got me. When swimming or biking, you can't just stop and take it easy. But when running, it's always an option to walk. I didn't want to take that option. I ran 95% of it, walking a few steps a couple of times when my left leg started to cramp up. Coming up the last hill and rounding the corner into the downhill stretch to the finish line, I was surprised at how easy my first triathlon had been. I could totally do it again. I was ready to go!

The finish line was a blur of euphoria, relief, and a little annoying bit of regret. When I hit the button on my stopwatch as I crossed the finish line, I realized how close I had been, at 2:05:41, to finishing in less than two hours. Although my goal had been 2:30, a time I beat by almost 25 minutes, those extra 5:41 haunted me. I knew if I had pushed a little harder on the bike I could have done it. Well, its good to have a goal.

Reality came rushing back pretty quick. My little man was antsy, and we wanted to get home so he could take a nap before we headed off to a birthday party later that afternoon (he didn't). But throughout the day, as I caught glimpses of my race number, safety pins still attached and abandoned on the kitchen table; the wet suit hanging up to dry in the bathroom; or the registration form for an October triathlon stuck to the fridge, I paused. My first triathlon was past-tense. That was pretty cool.

Thanks to everyone who cheered me on and sent such excellent vibes to me that morning! They worked, and you made it so much fun! You helped me become a triathlete.

A triathlete who has five minutes and 41 seconds to turn into ancient history.

Open Water, Open Mind

So I just got back from my first open-water swim workout for my triathlon next weekend.

Yeah, I'm gonna die.

Man, that was hard. It was my first time swimming in an open lake, my first time in a wet suit, and my first time swimming in 64 degree water. But, I did it, I went the whole way, and I feel much more prepared for next weekend.

The triathlon club that I am a member of is so great and supportive; the people who organize the first-timers practices are such encouraging, giving people. About 50 of us first-timers gathered in the parking lot of the lake this morning, wrestling into wet suits, nervously talking strategy, and trying to make a game plan in our heads for the early-morning race just seven days away. A couple of the veterans gave us some tips for setting up our transition stations, getting in and out of our wet suits, and a quick run-down of the rules. I'm pretty sure I am going to forget most of that stuff come Saturday, but I listened like a good student nonetheless.

I went through a very scientific process to come up with my goal time (I logged into the finishing times for last year's race, scrolled to the bottom to see how long it took the slowest person, and decided I could be faster than that) so my goal is to finish all three events in 2 1/2 hours. Although, after today's workout, I am tacking on about 20 minutes per transition. :)

Okay, it wasn't that bad. Yeah, the lake was cold. Real cold. But that didn't bother me as much as the wet suit. I'm claustrophobic, and the wet suit was very constricting. When I started out swimming freestyle, the combination of the frigid water, the tightness around my chest from the wet suit, and the murky/dark/pretty freaking scary water of the lake really freaked me out. I couldn't get my breath, I was incredibly inefficient, and I just felt terrible. I flipped onto my back and started gliding, comforted by the fact that I could at least breathe consistently. I alternated between that and breast stroke so I could keep my head out of the water, but it was clear that I was, quite literally, in over my head.

I made it across the lake, about a quarter of a mile, and grabbed onto one of the kayaks that were monitoring us to catch my breath. It was then that I realized I was one of only three people still in the water. It was discouraging to think that I was that lame, but I also felt proud that I had made it across the lake. Then I felt dismayed that I had to swim back. I was tired, man. I wanted to climb into that kayak and take a nap. But I didn't know the person paddling it, so I thought that might be weird. Instead, I bid farewell to my fellow swimmers and plunged back in.

As I glided across the lake, listening to my ragged breaths and reminding myself that one of the constant themes of all the veteran tips I had heard was, "don't freak out." I tried to relax, slow down my breathing, and just enjoy swimming. I transitioned into a side stroke so I could see where I was going, and started to enjoy it. I felt pretty lame for being the last one still in the water, but then I heard someone in a kayak say that a lot of people had gone halfway across and turned around. Then, my hand hit the ground. I had done it. I was done. I stood up and started walking to the shore to join my friends.

As I stood on the landing and reflected on the swim, I felt optimistic. I knew that the distance we had covered today was longer than the actual 0.3 mile swim required in the race. But, I also knew that on race day, I would be in the company of 200 additional people and have to follow up that swim with a 15-mile hilly bike ride, instead of getting in my car and driving home like I did today.

But you know, I'm not too worried. Even if I do set the record for the longest triathlon ever, I'm ready. As a first-time triathlete, my only goal is to finish it, and I know I can do that.

This time next week, I will be a triathlete. Hopefully one taking a nap.

That Dang Learning Curve!

Okay so blah blah blah I'm training for a triathlon, its hard, wah wah, I'm having to do all sorts of different stuff, blah. You already know that.

But that being said, the triathlon is less than a month away. Eeek! I am getting pretty excited about it, but have realized in the past few days, as people tell me stories about their first triathlons and the lessons they learned, that, well, I still have a lot to learn. I feel confident with my ability to do each of the legs with competence (especially since I looked up the times from last year's race and figured I was at least faster than the slowest person there...I think), but I've started to get apprehensive about the transition stations.

I have a lot of questions, most of them revolving around the issue of whether I will be able to eat. I have this thing where I get nervous doing endurance sports on an empty stomach, which of course would lead to low blood sugar, which of course would lead to me passing out on the course, lying defenseless and alone for a rabid animal to drag me into the woods and devour me before anyone even noticed I was gone. So if I could stash a banana somewhere that would be cool.

But I have other questions, too, like...what do I do? Luckily the internet is FULL of helpful people who are so friendly and eager to share their expertise with me! Actually, I was pointed in the direction of some really great resources that helped answer some of my burning questions.

1. Can I eat in the transition area? If so, should I? And what?

This article recommended putting some energy gel in my station, but I prefer to eat actual food. So I plan to pack a few Lara bars, which are small and all-natural. I may also need to eat a bunch of pancakes the night before just to be sure I have an adequate storage of glycogen.

2. What should I do to make the swim-to-bike transition easier and faster?

I found some great tips on TriNewbies, like having a bucket of water to get sand off of my feet, and Active.com suggested wearing shoes with elastic laces to save time with tying them. Other tips like hanging my bike helmet on the handlebars, making sure my tires are inflated, and having plenty of water may seem like no-brainers but could easily be overlooked in all the excitement of nerves, adrenaline, and carb-loading. And I'm pretty much expecting to be no-brain by the time I get to the starting line anyway. A great example is provided at FitEgg with a walk-through of a sample swim-to-bike transition, which is the one I am most concerned about.

3. What do I wear?

I have a borrowed wetsuit for the swim, but after that I am at a loss. I assume I'll wear my speedo and tug on some shorts for the bike and run. This article suggested slathering up with BodyGlide, which sports a website featuring pictures of intense-looking athletes unburdened by chafe. Naturally a hat, sunscreen, and sunglasses will be required...although my prescription aviator glasses might not be quite what I need.

4. How can I maximize the limited training time I have left?

I've been invited on a few "brick" workouts, which I've passed on partly because they were not at convenient times and partly because I still have nightmares of a swim coach that made us tread water holding bricks over our heads as he sat on the diving board eating doughnuts. For real, that actually happened. But I don't feel so bad now that I realize I've been doing them on my own. A brick workout, from my interpretation, is pretty much a practice run. I've done a couple of bike-to-run workouts and felt the burn of trying to run a 5k after biking 15 hilly miles (not fun). This article at Active.com explains how to do a much more technical version than my homemade practice session. I don't know if I am going to get that intense; I mostly just want to finish the run without throwing up or collapsing.

There are a lot of people out there who are really passionate about triathlons. It makes me excited to be planning my first one; the energy, enthusiasm, and encouragement I've received adds a whole new training element to the workouts themselves.

Okay, enough blah blah, time to go practice my transition....to bed. :)

My Head Is Swimming And Soon So Will I...Be

I am pretty sure the title of this entry is rabid with grammatical mishaps. Moving on...

Okay, so I just signed up for my first triathlon, after being first politely encouraged, then pointedly asked, and finally badgered about why I had not yet done one. No reason, really. Unlike tri-fitness, endurance stuff doesn't scare me. Tri-fitness was something that I had never tried, something that I was actually pretty bad at, and a major challenge to my default settings. On the other hand, doing a triathlon looks like a lot of fun! I like each of the events individually, am competent in each, and there really is just no good reason not to do it.

So I am going to do it. I have roughly 10 weeks to get ready so I am already have a head start on procrastinating. Awesome!

A wonderful colleague of mine, one of the polite encouragers who regularly competes in endurance events, sent me her training schedule to help get me started. I opened up the document and began trying to figure out how I was going to fit this into my day. Well, okay, how I was going to fit it into my day without changing any of the other stuff I do. I googled "triathlon training programs," and found www.beginnertriathlete.com, filled with advice and sample programs for first-timers. But as I calculated the logistics of training, I started thinking maybe there was more to a triathlon than borrowing a wet suit and showing up with a bike.

I mean, I run daily. I bike daily. I used to swim 4 or 5 days a week until I got so wrapped up in tri-fit training that I ran out of hours in the day. But I only regularly run 3 miles, I bike indoors, and I swim pretty leisurely. Any swimming I've done in a lake has been with the sole intention of getting away from someone who had just announced plans to dunk me under the water, and while I do some intense bike intervals, there's a big difference between air-conditioned intervals and 15 miles of actual hills in actual humidity. So while I started my research thinking my biggest weakness in this training schedule would be over-confidence, I started to feel that confidence turn to anxiety as I added up the hours in the day and realized that most of them are already spoken for.

Now I am worried I will just not have enough time.

Pshaw. I'll find time. I love to run, I love to bike, and I love to swim. I've been craving chlorine for weeks now, and my suit, goggles, and cap are still in my gym bag from last summer. I just need to map out a plan. I've gone to work with my Speedo on under my clothes, changing in the car like a super hero on the way to the pool, and returning an hour later with wet hair and smelling faintly of chlorine. I've dedicated a drawer in my office to workout clothes and towels just in case a meeting gets cancelled unexpectedly and I can make it to Pilates or the weight room after all. Last week I said crazy was back...and I think things are about to get crazy!

In the meantime, I am entertaining any and all suggestions for first-time triathlon training, as well as manipulating the space-time continuum.

And....we're off! Race ya!