The Wildflower triathlon is less than two months away, and I am starting to realize what a daunting goal I have set for myself, i.e., how crazy this really is. I have no qualms about completing any leg of the event on its own. I am confident that I can swim 1.2 miles, bike 56 miles, and run 13.1 miles. The idea of doing all three in one day, one right after the other, in what is considered the hardest Half-Iron triathlon in America, however, is pretty intimidating. I really wanted to crawl back into bed this morning when the 5am alarm went off for swim practice. But I remembered my honored hero, Thomas Molina, who doesn't have a choice when it comes to receiving cancer treatment, and pulled myself together, persevered through a unique bit of car trouble, and made it to swim practice.
My attitude about the swim has come full circle. I look at it as the easiest part of this race. Thanks to some insightful and personalized coaching, I feel more stable and confident in the water. Thanks to my new manual labor job, I also feel stronger. Swimming felt good...what an amazing difference from last year when the swim was a monkey on my back. I love how this sport challenges me to push past my fears and doubts, and I love when I can look back and see the progress I've made.
I've been training for the Wildflower triathlon since mid-November of last year, but have been reticent to blog about it because it's been so much more challenging than training for CapTex. Yesterday marked the date that the team (and I) officially committed to the race, so it feels right to start talking about what's going on. I'm reaching that point in training where sometimes I'm seeing some improvements in strength and endurance, but I'm also struggling mentally and psychologically when I think about doing the bike and run back to back. Last week's hilly 54 mile bike was a leg and lung burner. Although I felt pretty good that day, I was really sluggish on the long run the next day. A two-hour nap afterward helped. Perhaps it will be helpful for me to just focus on the day's training, and not jump ahead mentally to race day. Stay in the now, as it were.
Showing posts with label triathlons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triathlons. Show all posts
11 March 2008
09 September 2007
serendipity
I finally got to race my Olympic distance triathlon, and I couldn't have asked for a better experience. Everything fell right into place. I awoke promptly at 4:45 am, feeling rested, sharp, surprisingly calm, yet excited about racing. I gathered up my transition bag and other assorted gear and noticed happily that I was traveling far lighter than I had on Memorial Day. The weather was the best we could ask for on Labor day in Austin; overcast, around 75 degrees, with tolerable humidity.
I headed over to the race site, set up my transition area, topped off the bike tires, and chatted with some of my teammates. I was still feeling quite calm and relaxed, despite my unfamiliarity of the exact race course. The lake was just cool enough to make the swim wetsuit-legal. While I had considered grinding out the swim sans wetsuit, all it took was one person saying they always took the wetsuit advantage (thanks, Ken!) for me to throw out the idea of proving something to myself in exchange for the speed and confidence the wetsuit would afford. Town Lake (still can't get used to calling it Lady Bird Lake) looked pretty grody. Thanks to the prior week's rain, and perhaps lingering issues from the summer's flooding, it was pretty brown, and I wondered how much current was out there.
Fast forward to the race start, which was in the lake, yet another reason to be thankful for the wetsuit, because it makes it so much easier for me to tread water when I actually float! I had no idea how far out the last buoy was; the swim course was changed from a loop to an out and back. My strategy was to just keep swimming until I saw it, then just keep swimming until I got back. I survived the swim, and have to say, it wasn't that bad. My time at the halfway point was around 19 minutes, a good five minutes faster than my best half mile swim without a wetsuit, and I figure overall, wearing the wetsuit took about 10 minutes off my swim time. A couple of times I took on water and had to cough and splutter for a bit. Even if I end up with an intestinal parasite, it was totally worth it, and I say that even as I'm noticing a little digestive upset today!
Into transition, my wetsuit sleeve got stuck on my watch. I tried to muscle it off, but to no avail. I had to pull the sleeve back up, take off the watch, take off the sleeve, then put the watch back on, all while trying to catch my breath. I slowed down to dry my feet, put on socks, and gear up for the bike ride. Once on the bike, I concentrated on remembering which lap I was on, which equated to counting how many times I'd seen the capitol, and how many times I passed the dead squirrel on Cesar Chavez. Loop courses are interesting because you never know what lap other people are on when they pass you, or you pass them. I managed to pass a few people, but the most fun people to pass were the TNT folks at the run course water stop on Cesar Chavez. I saw them twice each bike loop and we'd exchange shouts and cheers for each other. I felt so blessed to have the opportunity to train with and get to know such a great group of people this year. They gave me a boost of energy each time I rode by.
It was also cool seeing my fellow teammates all over the race course. I cheered them on each time I saw them, giving high fives when I could. Into transition for the run, I needed to take a bathroom break, a sure sign I was not dehydrated! As soon as I crossed the timing mat into the run, I took a little detour for the porta can. No way was I gonna run 6 miles on a full bladder. All the brick training we'd done this year really paid off. No longer does it feel awkward to transition from the bike to the run. I just have to let myself start slow enough to catch my breath, then work up to race pace. The run never really felt comfortable, but I think I was grinning the whole way, just happy to be out there racing. I was delighted to see another TNT water stop by Jack & Adams Bicycles. I stopped to walk briefly and take water at almost every pass of a water stop. I had no idea of my pace, but considering the water stops and the potty break, I was surprised to check my watch and see 2:50 as I came over the S. 1st street bridge for the last time. I was hoping to finish in under 3 hours, and I was easily on target. I even had energy to sprint like a bandit for the finish line, coming in at just over 2:52. I felt jubilant and triumphant, pun intended.
This was my last triathlon for the year, and it was my best race all year. The other races all had their high points, and each taught me something valuable about myself. Cap Tex - having something to race for is more important than racing; Danskin - it's rewarding to include my family in my life; Disco - placing isn't everything, but it's ok (and fun) to do well; Couples - racing with friends is fun, having friends to train and race with is priceless; Jack's Generic - volunteering is as fun as racing; Darnd'st Du - sometimes even the things I love to do are difficult, keep going, even when it's tough.
The Austin Tri taught me that I really can accomplish a goal that I set for myself. Crossing that finish line marks the end of a journey, and the moment itself is gone, but the miles I literally and figuratively traveled to arrive, and the friends I gained, will always be a part of me. Looking back, in the process of reaching my goal of completing an Olympic distance tri, so much more happened in my life than I expected, and for that I am grateful.
I headed over to the race site, set up my transition area, topped off the bike tires, and chatted with some of my teammates. I was still feeling quite calm and relaxed, despite my unfamiliarity of the exact race course. The lake was just cool enough to make the swim wetsuit-legal. While I had considered grinding out the swim sans wetsuit, all it took was one person saying they always took the wetsuit advantage (thanks, Ken!) for me to throw out the idea of proving something to myself in exchange for the speed and confidence the wetsuit would afford. Town Lake (still can't get used to calling it Lady Bird Lake) looked pretty grody. Thanks to the prior week's rain, and perhaps lingering issues from the summer's flooding, it was pretty brown, and I wondered how much current was out there.
Fast forward to the race start, which was in the lake, yet another reason to be thankful for the wetsuit, because it makes it so much easier for me to tread water when I actually float! I had no idea how far out the last buoy was; the swim course was changed from a loop to an out and back. My strategy was to just keep swimming until I saw it, then just keep swimming until I got back. I survived the swim, and have to say, it wasn't that bad. My time at the halfway point was around 19 minutes, a good five minutes faster than my best half mile swim without a wetsuit, and I figure overall, wearing the wetsuit took about 10 minutes off my swim time. A couple of times I took on water and had to cough and splutter for a bit. Even if I end up with an intestinal parasite, it was totally worth it, and I say that even as I'm noticing a little digestive upset today!
Into transition, my wetsuit sleeve got stuck on my watch. I tried to muscle it off, but to no avail. I had to pull the sleeve back up, take off the watch, take off the sleeve, then put the watch back on, all while trying to catch my breath. I slowed down to dry my feet, put on socks, and gear up for the bike ride. Once on the bike, I concentrated on remembering which lap I was on, which equated to counting how many times I'd seen the capitol, and how many times I passed the dead squirrel on Cesar Chavez. Loop courses are interesting because you never know what lap other people are on when they pass you, or you pass them. I managed to pass a few people, but the most fun people to pass were the TNT folks at the run course water stop on Cesar Chavez. I saw them twice each bike loop and we'd exchange shouts and cheers for each other. I felt so blessed to have the opportunity to train with and get to know such a great group of people this year. They gave me a boost of energy each time I rode by.
It was also cool seeing my fellow teammates all over the race course. I cheered them on each time I saw them, giving high fives when I could. Into transition for the run, I needed to take a bathroom break, a sure sign I was not dehydrated! As soon as I crossed the timing mat into the run, I took a little detour for the porta can. No way was I gonna run 6 miles on a full bladder. All the brick training we'd done this year really paid off. No longer does it feel awkward to transition from the bike to the run. I just have to let myself start slow enough to catch my breath, then work up to race pace. The run never really felt comfortable, but I think I was grinning the whole way, just happy to be out there racing. I was delighted to see another TNT water stop by Jack & Adams Bicycles. I stopped to walk briefly and take water at almost every pass of a water stop. I had no idea of my pace, but considering the water stops and the potty break, I was surprised to check my watch and see 2:50 as I came over the S. 1st street bridge for the last time. I was hoping to finish in under 3 hours, and I was easily on target. I even had energy to sprint like a bandit for the finish line, coming in at just over 2:52. I felt jubilant and triumphant, pun intended.
This was my last triathlon for the year, and it was my best race all year. The other races all had their high points, and each taught me something valuable about myself. Cap Tex - having something to race for is more important than racing; Danskin - it's rewarding to include my family in my life; Disco - placing isn't everything, but it's ok (and fun) to do well; Couples - racing with friends is fun, having friends to train and race with is priceless; Jack's Generic - volunteering is as fun as racing; Darnd'st Du - sometimes even the things I love to do are difficult, keep going, even when it's tough.
The Austin Tri taught me that I really can accomplish a goal that I set for myself. Crossing that finish line marks the end of a journey, and the moment itself is gone, but the miles I literally and figuratively traveled to arrive, and the friends I gained, will always be a part of me. Looking back, in the process of reaching my goal of completing an Olympic distance tri, so much more happened in my life than I expected, and for that I am grateful.
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