Today was my third annual participation in the Annual Socorro Chili Harvest Sprint Triathlon, which I did with Sweet Baboo and mini-Baboo. Like to give a shout out to the Sanchez's, Kim and Ray, who were nice enough to chat with me and ask my advice, which is AMAZING; I'm AMAZED and confounded that somebody would ask me my advice on anything!
There a lot of Outlaws there and a couple bloggers: Courtney, Lisa, Cindy, SWTriGal, and lots others.
Now, last week I threw a tempter tantrum about my blown tire at Barb's race. I hated my Look pedals, because they make me fall, and I hated the tires, because I wasn't able to change them. Well, Sweet Baboo took me out to the garage yesterday and talked me through changing a tubular tire. Then, I changed the other one. It was so easy! Why were people telling me that you had to cut them off? Wussies. I popped that sucker off easy cheesey, then pulled of the old glue strip and then put on a new one, and then two brand new tires, and inflated them, and changing one, timewise, took the same amount of time it takes to change a tube on a clincher.
My flat kit now has a pre-stretched tubular and glue strip. Now I'm all empowered, and stuff. I'm certainly not afraid of tubeless tires any more. Plus, my brand new tires are YELLOW. Here's the result:
(Okay, well, actually the danger is that I'm so slow that you'll have to find a safe to pass and/or not trip or swim over me.)
But anyway.
I can't compare my times to last year because this was held on a completely different course, and because I did a half marathon 6 days ago, so my legs are, how shall we say it, a bit COOKED.
But, I did this race in 2006 and was about 3 or 4 minutes faster this year that I was back then. The course has a few long climbs on it - they aren't steep, but they're long. And the road is bump-p-p-py, but if you don't mind the jarring, and your water bottles are secure, then it's not so bad. The run is mostly flat, and the swim is a seeded start in a warm pool. It's a nice little sprint, well supported. Sweet Baboo didn't do as well as he would have liked. We'll excuse him, this time, being as he did an ironman 6 days ago. Mini-baboo had a hard time of it, being as he's 17 and believes that once you're fit, you NEVER, EVER, HAVE TO WORK OUT AGAIN. LAY OFF MOM, I SAID MY RUNNING WAS FINE! WHY ARE YOU BUGGING ME ABOUT THIS? I SPENT MOST OF THE SUMMER WORKING, MOVING FURNITURE AND CHANGING TIRES, AND I'M TELLING YOU, I'M READY FOR THIS SPRINT!
Oh, I almost forgot (added later) I got 2nd place master's Athena, and I think 3rd place overall Athena.
Well, what can I say. Statistically, it was bound to happen sooner or later: I DNF'd due to equipment failure. Actually it wasn't so much equipment failure as it was realllllly crappy road failure, whose many flaws you could not see due to the dappled sunshine on the course.
But I"m getting ahead of myself.
I started my morning by eating a mess of Ramen about 3 hours before race start (lots of sodium, and simple carbs) They had already said it would be unseasonably warm. Right before the race I had a powerbar and an energy drink. I had a good swim. I swam at a steady pace, not really trying to haul ass, or anything. I also did not WALK in the river. I have a real problem with that; in my opinion, if you can't swim, do duathlons. So I did about 45 minutes on the 1.2 mile swim, without sinking.
Then I had another energy bar, and headed out on the bike. I went over the aforementioned crappy parts in the road around mile 14.5, and immediately I heard this noise: PDTHLPDTHPLDTHPDLTHPDTHLPDPLTHDLPDLTHPDTHLPDPLTHDL I pulled over to the side of the road, staring down at my bike, but I couldn't get my feet out of the pedals in time and fell over, and--WHAM!
Have I mentioned how much I hate cycling?
I had cuts and bruises on me, but more importantly, I found a cut in my rear tire right along the rim. I have tubeless tires. Apparently, these can't be fixed, on THIS course, on THIS day, in THIS weather. I did not know this. I started walking, once I realized I couldn't change the tire. Several very nice people stopped and tried to help, and then agreed: this tire couldn't be fixed on THIS course, in THIS weather. And, despite several promises by 1) a race official, 2) a race volunteer, and 3, 4, 5) several athletes to promise to let the sag wagon know that I needed help one never showed, so I hiked for about an hour, and then finally took a ride back to t2 and turned in my chip.
The people that picked me up seemed to have trouble finding their way back to T2, and so during that hour (It was now about noon) several things were going through my mind: 1) I really hate cycling, and here's one more reason why. 2) I'm always complaining about how I can't get to the run unless I do the cycling, and 3) I ate a buttload of food this morning, and now how will I work it off?
And I was pissed. I mean, I've never made a secret of how much I hate cycling, but it irks me that I have to endure it just to get to run. I was talking to someone before the race who was doing the aqua-bike, and thinking whistfully, why isn't there an aqua-run? Why can't leap into the river, swim my guts out, and then go running? No fair.
So, I decided to make my own aquathon. I was also thinking about how, last year, I walked off the course at Soma because I decided it was too hot. Maybe, at least in my own mind, I could put that half together with this half and make a whole half, and, hey, why did I always have such rotten luck with half irons? Maybe it's just not my race. So, I did what any idiotic stubborn Athena triathlete would do: I went and ran the half marathon.
The run course was surprisingly hilly, and it was 98 degrees. 98. Degrees. (Estimates were between 96 and 98.) However, I had a secret weapon: my uber-cool Injinji's, yes, but more importantly, my keep cool bandana. This is actually two bandanas sewn together with an absorbant pad in the middle, and parts of the sewing left open so that you can load it with ICE. So you load it with ice, soak it in water, and then tie it around your neck, tucking the pointed part down the neck of whatever top you're wearing, and here's the result: The ice melts slowly, and cool water trickles continuously down your neck and back. I'm tellin' you, it's the BOMB. I can't wait to run in the heat again so that I can use it.
Oh, and be really careful about running under those sprayers. I realized around mile 9 that, um, you want to keep your feet dry when you're running longer distances. It's not a good idea to run in soaked shoes and socks and pound your soft, wet feet with nearly 160 (or whatever) pounds for 13 miles. Yikes.
So I ran the half marathon, and I ran in the company of a woman named Cory Churches from DC, and I was thanking her because without her I would have said, "crap, this is hot and I'm DNF anyway, so I'm quitting," while meanwhile, she said I kept her on pace. She told me that later when she stopped by to tell me, excited and breathless, that she was first Athena in the awards. I felt pretty good about that. People during the run were all screaming and waving cowbells and it was just too much to say, No, I'm DNF, I'm not a real finisher but eventually I just said, "thanks". I did the half marathon in 2:56, not a PR for me, but considering the 98-degrees I was running in, I was pretty happy with my results.
So what have I learned today? First, I'm switching back to clinchers. It's a very nasty feeling knowing that I can't fix my own tires, and I lack the crew to do it for me. Second, Look-type pedals suck. I'm apparently much too retarded to coordinate getting my feet into them, and I've given it 2 years to get used to them, but I can't work it out, and walking in the shoes with Look-type cleats is nearly impossible. Not sure what I'll do next.
After I stayed to watch Sweet Baboo finish the iron-distance, I showered and ate. Then I came back to chew on the skin on the sides of my thumb while DreadPirate finished her first Iron distance race. She finished at 10:51 pm, with nine minutes to spare since this very hot, difficult course closed down at 11 pm. After she crossed the finish line she looked at me, glassy-eyed, and I think--I'm not sure--she said something like, Holy Fuck Buckets. and I said, "Huh?" and she said that again. Her mommys, et al, whisked her away, wrapped in a mylar blanket and now I"m sure she's passed out somewhere, and can tell you all about her adventure.
Results: DNF. Sweet Baboo got 2nd place in the Clydesdales. DreadPirate went Iron! 21st Century Mom is, like, the best sherpa EVAR. Keep cool bandanas are the Bomb. if you have to run in the heat, get one. Now! My nutrition worked well, for what I did: 3 hours prerace: power bar and 2 servings of ramen 1 hour prerace: double latte, sipped slowly post swim: power bar#2, lots of gatorade. pre-run: power bar #3, lots of enduralytes, lots of water.
(Edited 7:20 pm) I've had my shower, so that now I don't smell like all kinds of stink and sweat and sweat and the Trinity River (apparently, you are il advised to try to cool off your legs in that thing. Who knew? Not me) So anyway. We prepared in advance by eating high-carb, high-sodium foods for supper. We also prepared for this race by getting in early (about 2 pm) to our hotel and napping and off all afternoon. We woke up around 10 and got ready, and then headed down to the park.
This was nice course, surprisingly well attended and volunteered for a race that starts are midnight. I was surprised at how fast everyone took off. What's that all about? You know, we told Mini-baboo once, "if look behind you and most of the field is back there, including some of the pros, you've gone out too fast."
I took off, wearing my headlamp and iPod, with the 15.5 milers at 12:10 am. (Yes, that's right: midnight.) Make no mistake about it: It was humid and hot. By the end of the 15.5 miles I was stinky and wet. I did my one-minute walk, one-minute run thing and PR'd, surprising myself: 15.5 miles (25K) in 3:09. My average pace was around 12:09 or something like that. I didn't carry any water, as there were two aid stations on the 3.1 mile course about 1-1/2 mile apart. I carried my own powergels, my inhaler, and some SportLegs. I got a nice little finisher's medal.
My one complaint: I couldn't find my way back to the parking lot. There were no signs and nobody was headed back that way when I was, so I wound up walking 2 more miles to find it. That's a pretty small complaint, though, considering it was mostly my fault. By the time I'd walked most of the way back through the course I was laughing hysterically and muttering to myself, "Dude, where's my car?" Then after a while, it wasn't funny any more. See, my stride has changed--I'm shuffling less from the knee down, and instead my legs are swinging more from the hip. The result of this is that my hips hurt like hell after a 15 mile run! OWOWOWOWOWOWIE!
I got back to the car and was grateful to find a clean dry pair of running shorts in the back. I changed, stretched a little, and then curled up in the front seat and slept for a couple hours until Sweet baboo knocked on the door.
Sweet Baboo did well, too, in the 50K. His time was about 5:45. I'll let him tell you all about it. He did mention something about how, due to a lack of planning on his part, "Mr. Johnson, et al, are not happy," because he didn't wear the right underwear.
Blink. Blink.
??
I had to think about it for a while.
Mr. Johnson? Who the hell is Mr. Johnson, and why would he care about Sweet Baboo's underwear? Wait, was Mr. Johnson one of the Marathon Maniacs that we had our pictures taken with?
Okay, so this is the third time I've done this one. Breakfast was a powerbar 2 hours out and a double latte gel 20 minutes out. This triathlon takes off in a tiny little alkaline lake (pTOO! pTOOOEY!) that's warm enough without a wetsuit (about 68 degrees was our estimation). I had some tell me that wear it for security because of the buoyancy (the lake is really clear and about 80 feet deep.) I wore my Point zero three fastkin, because I wanted to test it in a shorter triathlon to see how it went.
Swim: I was told that I was maybe 6th or 7th woman out of the water. I think my swim time was 8 minutes or so, which is really not bad when you consider that I've been extremely lax in my swim training. The fastskin came off easily, I slipped it down and stepped out of it as I walking toward the transition area, and then started running through transition.
14k Bike: I slipped into my bike shoes, no socks, and took off. I ALWAYS forget that this road rides from start to finish like it was paved by hand by blind monkeys but nevertheless, it's a fast, fun, curvy with a couple of hills that will get your heartrate up a bit. I R-r-r-r-ode the b-b-b-bike over the b-b-b-bumps up and d-d-d-d-down the h-h-h-h-ills until I got to the f-f-f-f-inish, averaging about 16.2 miles per hour, I think. I drank Accelerade from my aero bottle and came in feeling strong and good and then slipped on my running hat and running shoes (again, no socks) and headed out to the 4k run.
So, then I hit the run: I grabbed a cup of water BIG MISTAKE!! I can barely drink standing still without choking, much less when running, and when I start choking, then it's all over. I become the flem monster. I cough until I gag. I grabbed for my Albuterol inhaler, and guess what? It was gone. I always keep it in my cleavage (comfortable, trust me) but today, it was gone. Probably floating in the lake or something.
Sooooo I took off wheezing and coughing and then got a side stitch DAM-DAM-DAMMIT! But I ran slowly, and managed to finish, watching most of the women pass by me effortlessly. I was hoping for a faster time than this, but I was happy just to beat last year's time.
Results: First place Athena. This gives me 38 points in the Southwest Challenge Series in the Athena division, with 4 races. The two women ahead of me have 7 races (52 points) and 5 races (41 points).
My time: I dunno. about 1:12 or something, which would be 4 minutes faster that last year. My watch says I had two splits: The first one was 1:12:02 and the second one was 1.73 seconds. I thought I was hitting the split button, but--no. All in all, I was pretty happy with my performance, and I know that if I hadn't coughed up a lung on the run, I'd have done better.
Some friends of ours took pictures, and if I can get some copies, I'll post 'em!
Coming up: Juny 19th, La Scorchita (maybe) 15 mile run. Starts at midnight in Ft. Worth. More on this later. June 26th, Odessa Sprint Triathlon August 2nd, Barb's race half Iron
There's no pictures. Sorry! As soon as ASI posts them I'll be buying them, trust me, and posting them. If they make me all cute and stuff, that is. But anyway. Part 2: So, the run.
So, in T2, I put on my injinji socks, running shoes, running hat, RaceReady LD compression shorts, took some SportLegs, my bottle of hydrade and headed out. I was looking forward to the run. I assumed it would be flat.
I assumed wrong.
The race numbers they gave us has one with our first name on it, which I wore on the run. The result was that total strangers read it and cheered calling out my name. It was awesome, like being a celebrity. I highly recommend having your name somewhere on you when doing an endurance event. When you feel like you haven't got anything left, hearing someone call your name is a real shot in the arm.
I headed out onto a brief 2-3 mile out and back on the first loop and came upon a screaming group of Bloggers, including Duane, Di, and many others. That was pretty awesome! Then I came up on Sweet Baboo, who gave me a big wet kiss. Then I saw Mike, Maria, and several others throughout; since each part of the loop was an out-and-back I had many opportunities to see all my friends (who are, quite clearly, much faster than I!) including SW TriGal and Bigun.
The run wasn't that bad for a marathon, but when that marathon comes at the end of an Ironman any hill you encounter is pretty unwelcome. The big hill was at mile 8 on the first loop, and mile 21 on the second. It is long and steep and banked sharply so you feel unnervingly like one of your legs is shorter than the other. So, you march up the hill to a timing mat, watching your average pace climb as you climb the hill.
On marathons, I hit the wall around mile 16 and recover around mile 21. I'm tired, my stomach is feeling funky, and I'm sick of PowerGels. Then, a new sensation: Around mile 16, I suddenly felt like the ground was very far away and that I was very tall and running on stilts. I started giggling and realized I was a little delirious so I started taking salty broth and an ice-cold coke from every other aid station. That lit a fire under me after mile 21, and then I started running 2 minutes and walking 1. By now it was getting dark, and I took the glow-necklace they offered me.
Did you know: people late in the night at the back of the pack in an Ironman marathon are surprisingly un-chatty. This I've discovered. I would run up on someone, and start talking to them, and they grunt and just continue forward in a slow, shuffling walk. Then my watch would chime and I would run away.
My marathon time was 6:05. My Kentucky marathon was around 6:20, so I took 15 minutes off.I wish I had more drama to add, but I had a great run. I got a little tired and slow during my crash but came right back after the coke and broth. I never reached the dark, dismayed and lonely places that I reached in Kentucky. All the little nagging thoughts about how much I suck came out to play a little while I was on the bike, but then they went away as I cruised into T2, and they never came back.
As I came in toward the finish, I decided I wanted a good, strong finish, and a decent finish picture. I tried spacing myself between large groups of people who that I would be coming in by myself.
A mile out, I was choking back tears, because I was so happy...it was only about 11:00 and I knew that I would definitely make my goal. I slowed down a bit to save up for a run at the finish line. Then as I approached the arch, I saw Duane, who was yelling that I was going to beat the moon! Then, I saw Baboo with a big grin on his face running along the side with me, yelling at me that I had killed it.
Then, I was in the finishing chute running like crazy and I slapped hands with all the people leaning out and sticking their hands out and cheering. I knew that I had bested my time at IM Louisville by a little over an hour. I knew I had a big grin on my face. I couldn't stop smiling. It was an awesome moment!
Pirate and 21st Century Mom were there to catch me, and I was all giggly. I'd used up everything I had left, so when I stumbled a bit they walked me to the medical tent. Pirate said I was "loopy" but I remember just being just really, really happy. There was no more pizza (dammit) prompting me to create Iron Misty's new rule:
If you earn 114 (that's right, 114) weight-watchers exercise points in one day doing an Ironman, they will not expire at Midnight. You can spend some the next day, too. And maybe the day after that.
And yes, in case you were wondering, this one "took". The naggy little voice is gone.
So do I do this? What do I get out of it?
Well, for me, part of it is the brush with greatness. I have to say, when you're doing an Ironman event, they make you feel like, well, like a pro. First off, what other sport is there where you can race side by side with pros? And have them pee on you?
Sure, everyone is passing me, and I'm at the back of the pack. But then there's the cheering crowds: One is reminded, even if slow, that s/he is still doing something that few people ever try to do. And, even when your family even forgets what day the Ironman is on, after all the hard work there are total strangers standing around screaming like crazy, acknowledging your effort.
I have to say, well, it's quite a rush.
And then there is the boost to my self esteem that comes from knowing that I worked hard for it. Yes, it pays to have nice equipment, but even the nicest equipment won't make up for bad training. I know this from being left in the dust by guys riding mountain bikes wearing baggy t-shirts and shorts who were better trained than I. Of course, it goes without saying that I couldn't have done this without Coach Baboo, Cindy, and all the people who've been encouraging me all this time.
But it's back to reality now. I jogged slowly down the hall this morning about 10 am to get my free hotel breakfast, and my legs and feet were like, ARE YOU MAKING US JOG? NOW? ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME? Sadly, I didn't make it. The hotel had stopped the free breakfast at 9:30.
Bad Internet here. It's taking me a while to get this posted. I took a hot soak this morning in the hotel here in Fruita and did a body inventory to answer the question So, body, how we doin'?
Left foot, A blister on my middle and "index" toe. Small ones. Oh, and blisters? After they pop? Don't like hot water. Ow. Right foot, very small blisters on the same two toes. These blisters all occurred on the bike. I did not wear my sexy toe socks on the bike, but I will next time. Bottom of right foot: very tender spot in the ball of my foot that probably would have become a blister had I continued to insult it by running amok in Cordy Lane.
Calves: no problems. I attribute that to all the trail and hill running I did this spring. Quads: mildly pissed off, but very bearable. Much less stiff and tender than after other endurance events. Skin: Very, very mild pinkness. I rubbed in sun screen, spf 80, the night BEFORE the race and again the morning of, and then got sprayed with it after the swim. Sweet Baboo had read that sunburn speeds up dehydration by messing with your skin's ability to breathe and perspire properly, or something like that. I was pretty badly burned at IM Loo last year, so I was taking no chances. Otherwise, I've discovered some new places to chaffe. Will be addressing this problem with lots and lots of Baby Aveeno next time prior to getting on the bike!
Chest: achy. I have asthma, and whenever I go short on sleep, my chest aches and I wheeze a little. Lower back: Achy. Nothing that some stretching and a nice long Hatha Yogurt class (I always call my yoga class my "yogurt" class) won't fix. And a message. The rubbing kind, not the voice kind.
So, okay. My race report. Here I'll talk about the swim and the bike. Here's some mood music for you:
SWIM
Well, my swim was about what I expected it to be, given that it was colder and I. Am. Lazy. I really blew off my swim training this spring, because I wanted to focus on the run and the bike. I will be refocusing on the swim because of the unexpected results: It wasn't just that I was slow, but I became mired in a thrash-fest of other slow swimmers from which I was unable to extracate myself for nearly an hour. I know, I know: that sounds mean. But it's the truth. When the cannon went off, I had counted to ten, to let the more aggressive swimmers get in and avoid getting pummeled in the process, and every time I do this I get stuck in a human washing machine.
Next time, I'm not only going to train, but I'm going to put my goggles on under my cap and take my chances with the fast folks.
I've never really done the mass start that is so indicative of the Ironman. So the cannon went off!! I counted to ten, and then ran and dove in. In such a swim, all you hear is splashing. All you see is arms! I found myself trapped in a human washing machine of people who started side-stroking, breast-stroking, and one guy was dog-paddling, and this was before the first loop was even half over. Eventually, I was able to make a space for myself and start swimming properly, and finished the first loop in about 45 minutes. Yay!
then as I finished the first loop I was surprised at how people walked slowly and casually over the timing mat and then slowly over to get back into the water. WTF? I had to weave in and out them to get back to the water, where I dove back in. On the second loop, a wind had come up, starting some wave action on the water, blowing waves at me, which was a bit disorienting. I was bobbing up and down even as I tried to swim forward.
Also, for some reason, the kayakers had gathered near the end buoys, blocking them. Not sure what that was all about. But at least at this point I had a nice open space to swim in, even if I was getting bored and tired of swimming. The second loop took nearly an hour for me! I finished the swim and exited, running to t1 and the bike.
BIKE Hmmm. What can I say about the bike? Well, I can say this:
The really big hills are between mile 22 and 44 (first loop) and 78 and 100 (second loop)
There aren't quite as many as there were as there were at Kentucky, but the hills are looooooonger and steeeeeeeper. Like, over 6% steep.
On the first loop, the hill are "challenging".
On the second loop, the hills take away your will to live.
The first loop I was having a good time. I was smiling and thinking, this is a great! This is a great life. What a beautiful day! I am a lucky woman. I was singing U2's "Beautiful Day" to myself. What beautiful country! What friendly citizens! Seriously, the people I encountered on the course were amazing: enthusiastic and friendly, right up until the end. I pulled over once to let the large fly or bee or whatever had found its way into my helmet out, but otherwise stayed on the bike until around mile 60, when I finally got off and hit the porta-potty. I had my brush with greatness when, predictably, the pros blew by me early in the loop.
There are some pretty cool downhills! I went down them full tilt, my aero helmet making a really cool train-like noise that only I could hear. After a while, I started yelling choo choo on my downhills. (Like all things southern, I sounded just like a freight train.) At one point, I hit 41 miles per hour. At mile 30-something, there was a timing mat, and I started imagining good energy from my blogger buds coming at me whenever I heard the beep as I went over timing mats for the rest of the course.
On the way back into town, between mile 44 and 56, there was wind In. My. Face. That sapped some energy, but I was half expecting it, having talked to a couple locals before the race. As I rounded the halfway point, I sort of high-fived myself, because I knew I had passed the cutoff. It was only about 12:30, I think. I went by the bloggy peeps cheering section and heard my name being yelled. Awesome!
Then I hit the second loop. Not. So. Great. I was almost crying but mostly just muttering and swearing to myself. It's pretty clear that my bike needs work. My quads are weak. I hate hill work, and it shows. I was getting tired pretty fast and, and no longer singing "Beautiful Day". My chain kept jumping off my cassette and lodging between the casette and the tire - the first time I was able to pedal backwards and move it back out, but the second time I had to get off the bike and get my hands greasy. I need to have that looked at.
I was stopping halfway up some of the hills just to let my breathing slow down. By the time I hit mile 80, I was pretty convinced that I wouldn't make it, and I was pissed.
But for me, pissed works. "Pissed " raises my ire and makes me work harder. By mile 90, my will had come back and I calculated that I might make it. By this time, though, I wasn't smiling so much. I was grumbling and asking myself why on earth do I do this $hit? What is WRONG with me? Normal people are canning, or watching TV, or something. And here I am paying someone to put myself through this crap. I kept stopping on the way up the hills to give my quads a brief respite and let my breathing slow.
By mile 100, I knew I would make it so I decided to see if I could hit T2 by 5 pm. The wind had died down some, so I was able to make some good time coming back in. I was smiling again, and singing something. When I hit mile 100, and crested the last hill, there was a short flat sorta downhillish ride to an intersection, where there was a guy standing there directing us back toward town, and he said, "It's all flat after this!" I flew by shaking my finger at him laughing and smiling, yelling, Don't tease me!
I hit t2 and was pretty happy, although tired. I was done with hills and bikes and even though I had discovered some new girl places to chaffe (eek) I felt pretty good.
I knew that I had nearly 7 hours to finish before Midnight, but I was hoping to finish before 11:23, you know, beat the moon. I left T2 around 5:09, I think, considerably faster than at Kentucky. I had finished my bike about 50 minutes faster than I had at Kentucky. I was feeling pretty good, and happy, because now I get to run! (How weird is that?) My right foot hurt like hell, but as soon as I took my bike shoes off and walked on it, it stopped.
Okay. I'm going to lay down some more and rest. I'll write about the run later, after coffee and some red bulls.
I was thrilled to find out that, once again, this training crap WORKS. My times, in comparison (approximate): - - - - Swim - t1 - - - bike - - - t2 - - - run - - - total time - - results 2006 - 12:00 - 3:00 - 48:30 - - 2:00 - 42:00 - - 1:48 - 3rd place Athena 2008 - 12:00*-1:30 - 46:00 - - 1:30 - 34:00 - - 1:36 - 1st place Athena
*in 2006, I used a wetsuit. today I did not.
This is a very well run race near Roswell, New Mexico which as Baboo points out, "is trying very hard to be a real city." They have a very nice restaurant for carb loading called Pasta Cafe and a great local coffee shop called "Out of This World" coffee.
One of the sponsors is Shwans and a local dairy, so after the race there's ice-cold drinks, chocolate milk, and ICE CREAM FOR EVERYONE. The trophies are milk bottles and pitchers. Baboo, who was head ref for this race, is insanely jealous of my pottery bling.
The lake is very shallow, and tastes kind of bitter. There really high winds on the course this year, at your back on the way out and in your face on the way back in. The run is HOT.
Next up: Ironman Couer D'Alene. Serious taper to commence NOW. Well, right after my run tomorrow.
I still smell like wood smoke from the warming fires they put at the start line. So the volunteers were fabulous. Lots of potties, and plenty of aid stations.
The course was gorgeous - it starts out as lush pasture land ringed with snow-capped peaks and a soft, cold breeze blowing. The race ran around a small lake and then up a hill and down a canyon, and you saw a gorgeous waterfall. and desperately wished you were in that cold mountain stream. It would just take a minute, the little voice whispers. and it would feel oh, so good.
The locals were happy and supportive; my only complaint was the genius around mile 14 who thought that the same day that 2000 people ran past his property would be a good day to do a controlled ditch burn. Thanks for the smoke, pal!
My time was around 5:50, one of my slowest for this 26.4 mile course. I wasn't DFL, either. I saw a busload of people being taken down past me around mile 18, but I don't know if they were relay runners or people who didn't make the mile 17 mile cutoff (more on that later). It was pretty damned hot at the end - mid eighties, which is great for hanging out but hot for running. I don't know if that affected my time, but by mile 15 or so I was running comfortably under a 13 minute mile pace...
And then, there was this hill. THE HILL. It shows up as a blip in the course profile, but make no mistake about it: its purpose is to suck the life out of you and take away your will to live. After you've climbed this hill, you'll never be cool again in this marathon. After hiking up this hill, my pace just started climbing. I stripped off my shirt and then my singlet and was just bakin'.
This would be a good race for beginners, with just a couple caveats:
1) You must, must, must do some training on downhills. You will discover muscles you didn't know you had, otherwise, and they will be angry, those muscles. Oh, yes, they will.
2) There is a cutoff at mile 17, I think it's 4:20. This isn't a problem for most; as slow as I am I hit mile 17 about 3:15. But, it's not a course for walkers. Race-walkers or walk-runners, yes. Walkers, not so much.
I'm not sure I want to keep doing road races. The trail runs take longer and the climbing makes for a hell of a workout, but I just feel so beat up after a road marathon. My knees ache. My right archilles aches.
I debated for a moment whether to call this a race report. It's not really a race for me, after all. not really. But then I decided that, most of the time, it's a race not to be last. So, I'll go with that.
This race, in Bueno Vista, Colorado (and you must, you MUST pronounce it "BEYOONA Vista" to the locals, because I guess it sounds Hispanic or something otherwise...)
Anyway. This race was well-run, with a well-marked course and super nice voluteers (aren't they always?) BUT it was a difficult race for several reasons.
First, it was 28 degrees at the start. My new rule: If you're comfortable at the start, you're overdressed. I wore several lightweight layers: a wicking thermal l/s shit from REI, the kick-ass shirt that you get from signing up for this race, my favorite Brooks hoodie with built-in mitties. I carried a small pack with some carbo-pro 1200 and assorted sundries, like TP, bandaids, advil, eye drops, and a water bottle. The race provided HEED and assorted trail foods, aid stations between 4 and 6 miles apart. For breakfast, I had 2 quaker oatmeal-to-go bars, some coffee, and some Hydrade.
This is one tough course. Over 4000 feet of climbing, much of it over ATV-torn very sandy ground and a couple of wet stream crossings. Also, high altitude and I do not get along. The race started at over 8000 feet above sea level, and before long, I was breathless and bitchy, which gave way to despair as I settled to a very dark place
E.g., I hate everyone. I hate colorado. I hate mountains. I hate people on ATVs. I hate sand.I hate that bird.Stupid bird. I hate that rock. Stupid rock.
Then,
Why, oh why did I think I could do this. I can't. I'm too out of shape, I'm too heavy, and I'm not trained enough
And eventually,
I suck.
One thing I did try was what Doc suggested: deliberately hyperventilate, just a little, before climbing those hills. So for most of the race I went up the hills breathing deep and fast, trying o get as much oxygen and trying to ignore my rapidly swelling fingers and hands.
Here's my annotated course profile:
I managed to catch and pass a few people at the end, so I think there were a half dozen or so people behind me.
My goal for the day: Finish the 25-mile trail run about 7 hours or so, and don't be last.
My results: finishing time was about 7:02 or so, and I wasn't last. So, go me.
I got to finish with Sweet Baboo, who was gentlemanly enough to let me go first and officially "beat" him. He does that sometimes.
Then I got an egg-salad sandwitch loaded with veggies and it was the best egg salad sandwitch EVAR.
Then I had a little Ben and Jerry's and it was the best Ben and Jerry's EVAR.
Then I had some Lays chips and--you guessed it.
The best.
EVAR.
Sweet Baboo and I were running together because of an incident on the trail. He started out and, of course, wound up well ahead of me pretty quickly. I was perhaps 3rd or 4th from last. So I was surprised when, just after the 2nd aid station, around mile 11 or so to see Sweet Baboo hauling ass up the hill toward me.
"You on your way back already?" I asked, surprised, since his original plan was to finish the 25 mile run, then backtrack and do the course backwards, which is the 50-mile course.
"NO - THERE'S A RUNNER DOWN AND I'M GOING TO GET HELP!" He shouted this breathlesslessly and red-faced as he tore up the hill past me.
After a while, a search and rescue car passed me. Or maybe Sweet Baboo caught up to me first. I don't remember.
From what we heard, the guy didn't make it. He may have taken his last look at life facing the snowy-peaks of the Rocky Mountains. I don't have the details yet.
So that's it about that run, I guess. Bittersweet.
I suppose that, if I were to go suddenly, I'd like it to be on a beautiful day, in a beautiful place, with perhaps my last thoughts being about the cold drink I'm going to have at the finish, surrounding by like-minded people.
aka "Baby's first declaration of, 'I'm never going to do this again.'
Now, Mini-baboo was offered the chance to do this. He could do a half, or a full, or work as a volunteer. He chose the full, which carried the stipulation that he must stay with me throughout at least half of the marathon, and follow my instructions exactly. (Here we have some foreshadowing)
I released Mini-baboo at mile 12, worrying that I could not finish. I was in a lot of pain from the ole' ITB and didn't want him to worry about me. This was after programming his watch to chime an alarm every 10 minutes and giving him strict instructions, i.e., "Keep a steady pace that feels slower than what you're used to. Every 10 minutes, the watch will chime. I want you to stop and walk for one minute then. During that minute, I want you to drink about half of one of your little bottles-- 3-4 ounces. When you get to an aid station, I want you to eat 3-4 potato chips, and a gel (aid stations were 2-4 miles apart.)"
He then took off as fast as he could, headed down the path and out of sight, taking no gels with him and (as I found out later) ignoring everthing I told him because, after all, he is sixteen and HE knows EVERYTHING.
I found him around mile 19, sitting down on the path and complaining that his muscles were stiffening up.
"Well," I said as patiently as I could manage, "they won't loosen up with you sitting on your butt. Get up and walk it off, bo. Keep moving forward, even it's slowly." We walked together for a while; he couldn't manage much more than that.
I was getting my second wind - I'd had some terrible ITB pain between 15 and 19 but then it suddenly loosened up, and I ran ahead of him to the next aid station.
There, I laid out a care package for him: 2 advil, a cup of coca cola, some potato chips, and an order to consume all this and empty one of his bottles. The aid station guys were further more ordered that if he refused, they should slap him in the head, and to tell him I said so, and that I WOULD KNOW. Oh, yesss. I have my waysss. A mother knowsss.
A few miles later he came flying up on me again, and I asked him if the stuff at the aid station helped, and he said he wasn't sure (Oh, really?) and then after another mile or so asked if he could take off ahead of me. He flew off again and, I predicted, didn't eat or drink anything else. As a result, I finished about a quarter mile behind him, but finished, he did. It took us an appallingly long time to finish, and then afterward I walked out into a stock pond and stood in the icy water up to my thighs.
During this time Mini-baboo was demanding that if I went to the car, I should move it closer (it was about 500 feet away) so that he would not have to walk so far to it. He then declared, "I'm never doing that again. That was hard."
This was, BTW, and great course, pretty doable and very well supported. I had a lot of fun.
I don't think mini-baboo is disciplined enough to do an endurance event above a half marathon or Olympic distance without constant companionship. That's not to belittle him. It's just that he's young and impatient and not quite ready for it. Yet.
But he's happy, right now. He's tired but pretty content eating his pizza and watermelon slush. Tomorrow, I'll ask him how he feels. Sweet Baboo is awake, but fading fast. As for me, I'm going to finish my veggie lovers medium pizza with thin crust and my watermelon slush, and then I'll hit the valerian and the pillow.
I did my first multisport event of 2008 this morning on a beautiful day in White Sands Missle Range in southern New Mexico. Officially, this is my 2nd race for the 2008 Southwest Challenge Series (SWCS) since it started with the Polar Bear Sprint Triathlon,I had posted previously about how points are tallied in the SWCS series. Last year, I managed to pull off being Athena Champion, and now I'm back having another go at it.
The 5K run goes out into the desert and back on a sandy unpaved trail, and I averaged a 10:19 pace, which is closer to the 10 minute pace I keep hoping to break every year. I was sucking wind, too, boy. Woo. WHOO. woo. WHOO. I gave it my all. I managed to inch past Helen for a brief, glorious 30 seconds or so and then she blew by me and I never saw her again. Left me in a cloud of dust, she did. (Rationalization number 1: She's been doing this much longer than I. She's also much skinnier than I am.)
On the 30K bike, I averaged nearly 15 mph, which is pretty good considering I haven't been on my bike in nearly 3 months.
There was this one girl I was trying to catch because I thought she might be an Athena but as I worked harder and harder to catch her I really did feel like I was about to throw up, so I backed off. (Rationalization number 2: she turned out not to be an Athena, and she's 10 years younger than I.)
Gotta have those little rationalizations if you want to stay healthy.
I'm still working on the one for the 65-year-old guy who soundly kicked my butt.
Oh, and I got to wear my cool new LG ROCKET aero helmet, which I LLLOOOVVVVVE. It passes the best test of all: I forgot I had it on.
Results: I did it in 1:46:18, and was first Athena. Mini-baboo got 1st place in the under 20 division, and Sweet Baboo got 2nd place in the 40-44 males.
Considering I ran 23 miles only 6 days ago, I'm happy with the results, but I've got a lot of work to do! So far in the series, I've got 17 points.
Today was the The 6th Annual Sandia Snowshoe Race. A few days ago, I pulled my new snowshoes out of the box.
Um. What is this "21" on here? I turned it over and saw a length v. weight chart on the back. 21...inches. 21 inches...let's see, that's for...up to 125 pounds.
I am, as you may recall, somewhat ABOVE 125 pounds. Like, about 35 pounds over.
I don't remember seeing anything about "size" when I was ordering the damned things. Who knew snowshoes came in sizes?
Hey, Baboo, I asked my mate, what happens if you're snoeshoes are too small for you - will they break?
No. You'll just sink down in the snow.
Excellent.
And, then the snow will then cover the top of the snowshoe, anchoring you down.
Yay, even better.
(Sigh).
Well, as it turns out, the trail was pretty packed down, although not completely packed. So, 3.2 miles. I felt pretty cocky. Much, sadly, more self-confident than I was entitled. You get that way sometimes after doing an Ironman. Most of the time it's a good thing. The rest of the time it's just kind of pathetic and sad.
Pfft. 3.2 miles. I've done marathons! 3.2 is nothing! I'll smoke that trail.
Well, I didn't do a marathon at 10,000 feet, now, did I? I was thinking this as I was huffing and puffing my way up the snowy trail way, way, way in the back of the pack, after having given up on the idea of jogging with snow shoes and setting in with a group of hikers.
And I didn't do them with tennis rackets strapped to my feet either, did I? Tennis rackets that did occasionally sink down into the snow being as they had two small of a surface-area to support my weight, and, well, then they did become anchored, just as Baboo had predicted.
it was my
SLOWEST. 5K. EVAR.
1 hour, 17 minutes.
But, it was new, and it was fun. An adventure, if you will.
Driving the course in Jackson, Mississippi on Friday afternoon I'm pretty sure that Sweet Baboo and I were thinking the same thing:
Mo##erfu@#er. For a flat place, there sure are a lot of GD hills here!
(This, of course, was something I mentioned to a volunteer during the race, and she laughed like hell and slapped her knee. "Girl, you gotta go down to the DELTA if you want FLAT!"
Pre-race Breakfast, 4am: leftover Torellini, soy latte and sports drink. Now, I run slowly, about a 12-13 minute pace for these things. If you run faster your tummy probably won't tolerate this breakfast.
Results and recommendations: According to my Garmin I ran a tiny bit faster than at Las Vegas about 5 weeks ago: a 12:54 pace. I did NOT run a negative split this time; I went out way to fast and from then on just watched my average pace go up, and up, and up...my legs really took a beating on those hills. The road is tilted, so I ran toward the middle where it's flatter (a tip from Bones). There was a lot of potholes; we were joking and calling them Mississippi speed bumps because I know how southerners drive, being one. (I think stock car racing started in the south.)
It was clear as early as mile 4 that the course was long. This was agreed upon by everyone I talked to, and each time I passed a mile marker, Garmin showed 0.22 past that. So they might want to move their start or their finish line to make it 26.2 or have the results adjusted.
There was this one chick that I focused on beating...hey, you got to focus on something, right? Well, here's why: her family showed up around mile 14, swapped out her bottles and took the things from her that she didn't want to carry any more. RRRRR. Then her sister or something stepped into the course right in front of me to take pictures and I ran smack into her. HOWEVER, when I passed her, she would pass me back and then slow down and stay the same distance in front of me. WTF? So, I stayed behind her until about a quarter mile from the finish, and with her mom was running with her, rubbing her shoulders and encouraging her, I sprinted past both of them and finished a couple minutes ahead of her. Ha! (I know, pointless. But satisfying, nonetheless.)
My favorite race volunteer: a Jackson policeman around mile 4.4 scolding all the cars., e.g.: "HEY! You THINK, oh you THINK you're going that way BUT YOU'RE NOT AND--HEY, JUST WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING? oH, i KNOW you aint thinking of cutting throughTHERE! GET BACK! GET BACK"
Post race there was pizza (athletes and their families ate it all before I finished and hey you fast runners out there, tell your spouses and kids hands off until all the runners are done!) and pasta salad, red beans and rice, bbq, and other such goodies, and a woman singing excellent blues music (of course) on a stage.
Then we headed back for a soak and then headed for iHop, our favorite post-race place.
Later that night we were given free admission to Hal and Mal's Blues Club. They had an excellent concert featuring "Super Chiken," and we were also given two free drinks each. I had 2-cheese nachos, which were excellent, smothered in salsa, cheese, and black beans. We joined Bill Anders and his family who were a lot of fun, but it was difficult to talk because it was a noisy place. Bill ran the half marathon and his family provided cheering and support.
I would highly recommend this race. It was small, fun, friendly, well-supported (could use more potties, though! Some ran into some of the local businesses to pee) and a nice, but challenging, course. Jackson is a very nice little town with a great local coffee chain (try CUPS) and great food (Bravo Italian restaurant and Hal and Mal's) and music. Oh, and race shwag included sunglasses, Mississippi Blues CD, a hammer gel, and a very nice long sleeve technical t-shirt. But, do not get a margarita at Hal and Mals. Just don't. Get a whiskey sour or Alabama Slammer instead, or a microbrew. Just trust me on this.
So, my legs are trashed. Sitting on a jet-propelled pencil for a couple hours didn't help. I'll let Sweet Baboo talk about his results.
Okay, well, intresting start to the 2008 triathlon season this morning: I finished this race in the same time as I finished it when I first did it back in 2005.
The good news is that the run was a mile longer that it was back then, I have a bad cold, and I ran a marathon 6 days ago. So my performance was better than what might have otherwise been expected. Also, I passed about ten people in the pool, in spite of the fact that I haven't been in the water for about a month. (It was 7K run, 30 k bike, and then a 400 meter swim.)
Results: I got 3rd place Athena. Baboo, running as an age grouper for for the first time in a Southwest Challenge Series event, also got 3rd. Mini-baboo got 2nd in his division. I STILL HATE WIND.
White Sands always has lots of wind at their triathlons. My average speed on the bike was a bit over 14 mph, and a 10:40 pace on the 4.2 mile run.
Afterwards, Sweet Baboo, Mini Baboo, and I went to the annual Soutwest Challenge Series Awards picnic, and picked up our champion awards. They were customized bottles of sparkling wine. This means, of course, that Mini Baboo can't "have" his award for a bit over 4 years.
Lots of details are posted on Sweet Baboo's blog. He, by the way, made a smashing Elvis. And a fast, one, too. Compared to him, the other guys were clowns with wigs.
Wingman, meanwhile, was a small, Columbian, extremely hyper Elvis.
I started the Las Vegas marathon conservatively, er, run-wise, that is.
We were sent off just after 6 am with an Elvis impersonator singing "Viva Las Vegas" and "A little less conversation" and fireworks. And, hey, what other marathon has Robin Leach as a comentator?
(That was all after we--all 200 of the running Elvi--were led in a processional a block or two from the hotel through a parted crowd to our own special starting corral at the beginning of the marathon. Flashbulbs!! The crowd goes wild!! It was awesome.)
I got to start near the front of the mass of over 16,000 runners (!!!!) and I then scooted off to the side and got the hell out of everyone's way.
Good thing, too, because people were passing me for about 13 miles.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
At mile 1 or 2 was the Blue Man Group, playing, "It's Time to Start" I tried to take a pictures. You can just barely make them out in the center just above the pink-shirted guy in this picture.
Now, at mile 5, they had the now traditional Las Vegas marathon run-through wedding ceremony, where Sweet Baboo and I have decided we MUST, MUST, MUST renew our wedding vows some day.
Several marathoners were wearing running "wedding" regalia, and my favorite was a woman and her husband who had written, "25 years and still running" on the back of her little white running dress and his black tuxedo shirt."
Anyway, I stuck around and watched the running weddings, which included guests (!) and then took off.
After the full split off from the half marathon, I was feeling really good. Really, really good, so I decided to run 10 and walk 5 instead of my original plan of running 5 and walking 4.
Did I mention it was cold? It was! Gloriously cold. No wind, just enough cold (40s) to keep me from stripping off my clothes and wig. The wig was surprisingly comfortable. It was pretty close to wearing a running hat. However, the running tights I had ordered did not arrive, and so I wore regular tights. BIG mistake. They wore through quickly, given my lack of, em, inner thigh clearance, and then it was chaffe city, baby.
On the course there were several bands, several extremely enthusastic cheerleading squads, a Frank Sinatra impersonator, singing, and a Dean Martin impersonator.
Other details: porta potties galore. After the first 5 miles or so, they were several per mile. Aid stations every mile. And entire run course free from cars, and the most enthusastic police I've ever seen. Seriously, I've never seen police cheer like these guys did. They kept us safe, and encouraged us on.
I also did this sans ipod. And, it was no big deal, really. I always wondered, what would I listen to for 6 hours? The time goes by faster than you'd imagine.
By mile 12 the crowd wasn't passing me with such vigor and speed any more. I'd settled into a group of "regulars" that I stayed with for about 8 or so miles.
By mile 13, I'd decided that I was not going to take 5 minute walk breaks any more. I felt good, and wanted to bring my average (13.5 minutes per mile) down.
<-- LONG UPHILL - about 6-7 miles long (see run profile, below) and about 2-3% grade. Luckily, I studied the run profile in advance so I knew what was going on.
My split for the 2nd half was about 12.5 minutes per mile. I ran hard, for me, and I've got the pained, hobbling gait to prove it.
Now, mile 20, if you've never done a stand-alone marathon, is interesting.
After mile 20, people are walking.
(Shhhh. We triathletes know how to pace, so we negative split it and start passing people. I was running about an 11 minute mile in the past few miles. )
The last band on the course was this super cool drumming thing. I know there is a proper name for it. I think it's Japanese. It was awesome.
I rounded the corner and finished in 5:44. Not my goal of 5:30, but considering that my first marathon a year ago was 5:59 and my Ironman Louisville marathon was 6:20, it was not bad. I ran hard, for me, and my legs feel it. Oooo. They feel it.
I got a rose and a finisher's medal (pictures on Baboo's web site)
Anyway be sure to check out Sweet Baboo's blog for details I may have forgotten!
It was with no small amount of trepidation that I entered this race. I woke up and my tendon thing did NOT feel the greatest.
PLUS on my last few "easy" runs I'd felt weak and breathless.
PLUS it was 31 degrees outside.
PLUS it was windy.
PLUS the course was going to be hilly, although nobody knew exactly what it was because it hadn't been published anywhere.
Well, I was right. I was cold. It was hilly. It was tough. My heartrate soart to zone 4 and stayed there most of the time.
Now, before I tell you how I did, I'll tell you that my previous 10K best pace was about 12:20. That was at the end of an Oly, but it was a beautiful day at sea level with no hills.
Today my average pace was...
wait for it...
wait for it...
c'mon, you know you love the anticipation...
10:50 minutes per mile.
That's right, my best 10K EVAR.
I don't question it, I just accept it. And am thankful. For me, this is HUGE. I felt downright SPEEDY. And, I wasn't last. The race was well-run, and they had a 5K fun run and walk. The course was tough but fun, and then they had a Kids 200 meter race afterwards where every kid got a finisher's medal and a pie. Here's the run profile, with my heartrate (in red) and comments:
First, I want to be clear about one thing: Sara is a super sweet person. She loves to hug, and despite having a bad knee she does as many of these things as she can. She has the enviable job or working for parks and recreation for the city of Rosell AND being the regional coordinator for the Senior Olympics.
Now back to the Du. I found out from Michi that they had 4 weeks to pull this together, and I have to say, it was as well organized as races I've been to that have been around for years. Everything you'd expect was there. We were allowed to forego body markings as long as we wore race numbers and had bike numbers. After all, most people were covered, especially in the beginning.
At the start of the race it was chilly, Im' guessing about 45 degrees or so, but we heated up quickly. Some of us more than others. It's a surface-area to volume ratio thing. You might not understand.
The run was about half sandy trail and half blacktop. All very well maintained, with 3 aid stations with friendly volunteers and nice COLD WATER. Drinking water, in my opinion, is vastly underrated. How can you cool down your core with warm water? Nope, this water was cool.
This was a tough little duathlon! Hilly run, hilly bike. This is a profile of the run...
Now, Rio Rancho, my town, is not terribly amenable to being slowed down in its 60 mph commute to church. Or fishing. Or whatever it is that requires driving very very fast and looking very very annoyed when your speed is curtailed at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning.
I say this not so much with malice, but as a fact: it's not historically been a pedestrian or bicycle-friendly city. That's changing; the city of RR has committed to adding wide biking shoulders to all its new roads and walking paths throughout the city.
Luckily, the auto-baun wanna-bes were only an issue on a very small portion of the course, and the police were around to put the kybash on anyone who might have otherwise been inclined to knock us into a ditch. As I say, all that attitude is changing. I expect many will be annoyed by it. I don't care.
But anyway, most o' the time the road was devoid of anything other than the cautious and curious passer-by. The road, by the way, was LIKE. BUTTAH. Smooth as glass. But hilly. This is NOT a duathlon for the weak of leg or huge of ass.
Here's a profile of the bike:
At one point Sweet Baboo rode by (he was head ref) and kind of flipped his hand at me. I thought he was trying to get me to move further to the right, so I was like, WTF? but it turned out to
Well, my swim was about what I expected it to be, given that it was colder and 
orked harder and harder to catch her I really did feel like I was about to throw up, so I backed off.
