July saw me compete in my first duathlon and another sprint triathlon. Both were great fun, and I performed well. The Disco Duathlon was supposed to be our TNT group's Olympic-distance tri to make up for the cancelled CapTexTri. Due to the 40 days/40 nights weather we'd had, Lake Ray Roberts was closed to recreational activities, and the 1 mile swim was replaced with a 2 mile run. I was ecstatic, to say the least. I've been running for over 20 years (off and on), but not until this year's training did I discover that it's my best (and favorite) of the triathlon sports. Good thing, because I need something to makeup for my slow swimming. I'd succumbed to a cold the week before the race, and had to take a couple Sudafed so I could breathe the morning of the race, so, I was only running at 80%. Still, I placed second in my age group, and had a really fun time.
The following week, I raced in the Couple's Tri with one of my TNT friends. It's a fun format - both members of the team do the sprint tri course, then they combine your ages and times for your final score. We were in the over 80 age group, a tough category, and placed 11th. Once again, I had an open water swim to face. This one was 800 meters, slightly longer than the Danskin swim distance. I followed my strategy of hanging back at the start so I didn't have the added anxiety of being jostled by other swimmers. I was the very last person to start the swim in my wave. Slow and steady is my swim pace, but I was past the first buoy before any swimmers from the next wave passed me. I think I even passed one or two swimmers from my wave. Most importantly, I felt confident and strong throughout the swim. No panic, no anxiety, no thoughts that I couldn't or wouldn't make it. Since that was the second time to feel that good swimming the half mile, I take it that I've crossed the mental barrier I've had about open water swimming. That is definitely a triumph for me. I am exceedingly grateful to the TNT swim coaches and everyone who's told me I could do it. I'm a swimmer.
I finished in less than 1.5 hours, which was a course record for me. I've raced the Decker Lake sprint tri course four times, plus twice as a relay, and am ready to experience a new triathlon course. I'll get that opportunity Monday in the Austin Tri. I'm nervous about the swim again, since it's twice the distance I'm comfortable with. I did a mile at Quarry Lake last Friday, just to make sure I could do the distance, and that second half mile was tough. I've considered renting a shorty wetsuit for the weekend, but I'm really wanting the challenge of this swim, on my own, unaided by the extra buoyancy of neoprene. My swim coach mentioned Dorie from "Finding Nemo" at practice last week and I'll have to "just keep swimming...just keep swimming..."
31 August 2007
29 June 2007
Tri and Tri Again
My previous post didn't really register the depth of disappointment I felt at the cancellation of the CapTexTri. But, to paraphrase Yoda, (I think, I haven't seen any of the Star Wars films in their entirety, but someone from TNT shared this quote with me) "There is no try, only do." So, earlier this month, my mother & I completed the Danskin Triathlon as a relay team. A bunch of the other TNT women raced, and a bunch of people from the team came out to cheer everyone on. It was a blast, and really helped me move forward after CapTex. I had a great opportunity to experience open water swimming at a whole new comfort and confidence level, and push myself on the bike. The 5k was my mom's leg of the race, and as I had promised, I walked every step with her. I had a lot of fun, and she did, too. We got to cheer a few of the TNT women who passed us along the way, got sprayed with icy cold water (quite the chilly surprise) from giant water guns at one of the water stops, and stopped to wait while one of the event photographers reloaded his camera so he could get pictures of us. It was so awesome to see our TNT teammates at the finish line and for mom & I to get high-fives from all of them. Her first words after crossing the finish were, "When is the next one?" I don't know if she remembers that, though!
I've got two more tris on the schedule for next month. I'm most anxious about the Disco, because it is a mile swim, sans wetsuit. I liken my wetsuit to Dumbo's red feather. It's not what enables me to swim, but wearing it sure helps me feel more confident. Everyone keeps telling me I can do this swim, but I have to learn to believe it. And I've got about a week to make it happen.
Here's a happy finish line photo:
I've got two more tris on the schedule for next month. I'm most anxious about the Disco, because it is a mile swim, sans wetsuit. I liken my wetsuit to Dumbo's red feather. It's not what enables me to swim, but wearing it sure helps me feel more confident. Everyone keeps telling me I can do this swim, but I have to learn to believe it. And I've got about a week to make it happen.
Here's a happy finish line photo:
04 June 2007
By now, most of you have heard that the triathlon I'd spent three months training for was cancelled because of weather. Thank you to those of you who have called or emailed to tell me how sorry you were that I wasn't able to race. I was extremely disappointed, and your sympathy meant so much to me. What follows is a synopsis of the morning of the race, and what being a part of this training group and raising money to fight cancer has meant to me. Here's a link to an 8 minute video of how our team made the most of that morning. If you read no further, at least watch a few minutes of our extraordinary team.
This was the first time in the Cap Tex Tri's 16 year history that they had to cancel. They first announced that the swim was canceled at 6:08 am, and planned to wait until 7:30 to make a final decision about the rest of the event. At 6:10am, I was huddled in the Team in Training tent with my teammates, hoping for the rain to let up, and wound up like a top, ready to race. If the race went on, they would replace the swim with a 5K run, to make it a duathlon. In the past, I would've been excited about that change, because running is my strongest event, but this year, my heart sank when they cancelled the swim, because I'd worked so hard to improve, and felt confident, if not fast, in the water. I'd even done a few laps in the pool on Sunday afternoon, just for fun, and to work out some pre-race nervous energy.
So, as my teammates and I waited for an update, chatting with each other about race details and comparing notes on pre-race anxiety, I looked around at all these wonderful people that I'd spent the last three months training with. Some of them were supposed to complete their very first triathlon that day. I admired their courage, remembering how scared and anxious I was before my first triathlon, which was only a sprint distance race. Some of them were cancer survivors, and I admired their refusal to let a disease define them. Several of them had raised more than $10,000 to fight blood cancer. I admired their dedication to the cause. All of us had our own personal reasons to be there, and all of us were eager to race. If the race had not been cancelled, I have no doubt that every one of us would have gone out and had a good time, and finished proudly.
Our head coach, Adam, stood up to give us a pep talk to remind us that the finish line was just another milepost along the journey, that the important part was the training and the fundraising that we'd worked so hard on for so many months, and that whether or not the race went on, that this would not be the last or only tri for any of us, and that the work we had done was the important part. He asked us, considering the possibility of a cancellation, who would be interested in doing a 5K as a team, along the race course. To a person, we said yes. At that moment, word came around that the race had been cancelled.
We all agreed that it was the safest decision for everyone, but we were all very disappointed, nonetheless. Still, moments later, everyone started rummaging about for their running shoes, and getting ready for our 5K. We ran one loop of the run course as a team - an army of 50 in our purple and green Team in Training jerseys, stomping through puddles, and whooping and hollering as we went. Our coaches and mentors took up a spot at Congress and Cesar Chavez and cheered wildly as we passed. We had the race course all to ourselves, even the Marines had gone home.
Everyone crossed the finish line to high-fives and cheers for our fellow teammates. The event photographer was so impressed with our spirit that they got their equipment out and took group photos of the team. The only photographs taken at the event. Yes, we wanted to race, and yes, we are disappointed that the triathlon was cancelled. But, we had fun, and made the most of a disappointing circumstance. Most importantly, we did something together, as a team, and lived the spirit of Team in Training. Our coaches somehow managed to get us finishers medals, which they handed out at our victory celebration; the only finishers medals given out this year. I have several of those from other triathlons I've completed, but this is the one I'm most proud of. It's not about the race.
Thank you so much for your support along my journey with Team In Training. I plan to sign up for another endurance event with TNT, and perhaps this time it will be a half-Ironman triathlon. Next up for me is the Danskin sprint triathlon, which I will do in a relay with my mother. I'll swim and bike, then we'll walk the 5K together. I'm still figuring out which Olympic distance event I want to do, and will keep you posted.
This was the first time in the Cap Tex Tri's 16 year history that they had to cancel. They first announced that the swim was canceled at 6:08 am, and planned to wait until 7:30 to make a final decision about the rest of the event. At 6:10am, I was huddled in the Team in Training tent with my teammates, hoping for the rain to let up, and wound up like a top, ready to race. If the race went on, they would replace the swim with a 5K run, to make it a duathlon. In the past, I would've been excited about that change, because running is my strongest event, but this year, my heart sank when they cancelled the swim, because I'd worked so hard to improve, and felt confident, if not fast, in the water. I'd even done a few laps in the pool on Sunday afternoon, just for fun, and to work out some pre-race nervous energy.
So, as my teammates and I waited for an update, chatting with each other about race details and comparing notes on pre-race anxiety, I looked around at all these wonderful people that I'd spent the last three months training with. Some of them were supposed to complete their very first triathlon that day. I admired their courage, remembering how scared and anxious I was before my first triathlon, which was only a sprint distance race. Some of them were cancer survivors, and I admired their refusal to let a disease define them. Several of them had raised more than $10,000 to fight blood cancer. I admired their dedication to the cause. All of us had our own personal reasons to be there, and all of us were eager to race. If the race had not been cancelled, I have no doubt that every one of us would have gone out and had a good time, and finished proudly.
Our head coach, Adam, stood up to give us a pep talk to remind us that the finish line was just another milepost along the journey, that the important part was the training and the fundraising that we'd worked so hard on for so many months, and that whether or not the race went on, that this would not be the last or only tri for any of us, and that the work we had done was the important part. He asked us, considering the possibility of a cancellation, who would be interested in doing a 5K as a team, along the race course. To a person, we said yes. At that moment, word came around that the race had been cancelled.
We all agreed that it was the safest decision for everyone, but we were all very disappointed, nonetheless. Still, moments later, everyone started rummaging about for their running shoes, and getting ready for our 5K. We ran one loop of the run course as a team - an army of 50 in our purple and green Team in Training jerseys, stomping through puddles, and whooping and hollering as we went. Our coaches and mentors took up a spot at Congress and Cesar Chavez and cheered wildly as we passed. We had the race course all to ourselves, even the Marines had gone home.
Everyone crossed the finish line to high-fives and cheers for our fellow teammates. The event photographer was so impressed with our spirit that they got their equipment out and took group photos of the team. The only photographs taken at the event. Yes, we wanted to race, and yes, we are disappointed that the triathlon was cancelled. But, we had fun, and made the most of a disappointing circumstance. Most importantly, we did something together, as a team, and lived the spirit of Team in Training. Our coaches somehow managed to get us finishers medals, which they handed out at our victory celebration; the only finishers medals given out this year. I have several of those from other triathlons I've completed, but this is the one I'm most proud of. It's not about the race.
Thank you so much for your support along my journey with Team In Training. I plan to sign up for another endurance event with TNT, and perhaps this time it will be a half-Ironman triathlon. Next up for me is the Danskin sprint triathlon, which I will do in a relay with my mother. I'll swim and bike, then we'll walk the 5K together. I'm still figuring out which Olympic distance event I want to do, and will keep you posted.
21 May 2007
spidey sense and winding down
I saw Spiderman 3 on opening weekend, and all I could think of after I left the theater was how, when Peter Parker was in his "dark" phase, with the bangs, dressed in black, strutting down the street, and being rude to MJ, he looked just like k.d. lang.
Separated at birth?
A week from now the triathlon will be over. I feel pretty ready, which is good because there's really nothing more I could do to physically improve at this point, anyway. So, after three months of 6am swim practices, and 7am Saturday and Sunday running and biking workouts, wherein I learned that my favorite event is running, that I enjoy boot-camp style core training more than a sane person should, and that working out with a group of people is really fun and motivating, all that is left for this week is to eat well, get plenty of rest, and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. We have some easier and/or shorter workouts this week, and a karaoke spin class Thursday. Friday evening I'll do one last open water swim - for the love of swimming (words I never thought I would say).
Next up will be the Danskin triathlon, which I'm doing as a relay. With my mother! I'm really excited about sharing this thing that I love with her. She's probably not as excited about it as me, but she's being a good sport.
Separated at birth?
A week from now the triathlon will be over. I feel pretty ready, which is good because there's really nothing more I could do to physically improve at this point, anyway. So, after three months of 6am swim practices, and 7am Saturday and Sunday running and biking workouts, wherein I learned that my favorite event is running, that I enjoy boot-camp style core training more than a sane person should, and that working out with a group of people is really fun and motivating, all that is left for this week is to eat well, get plenty of rest, and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. We have some easier and/or shorter workouts this week, and a karaoke spin class Thursday. Friday evening I'll do one last open water swim - for the love of swimming (words I never thought I would say).
Next up will be the Danskin triathlon, which I'm doing as a relay. With my mother! I'm really excited about sharing this thing that I love with her. She's probably not as excited about it as me, but she's being a good sport.
09 May 2007
The Great 172 Mile Training Ride
Or, Insanity Loves Company
I've been going nonstop since finishing the MS150 bike tour, which I affectionately refer to as "The Great 172-mile Training Ride." This year I managed to take care of myself pretty well in the week leading up to the tour, tapering my triathlon training so I'd be as rested as possible. I was pretty nervous leading up to the ride because my longest training ride was only 32 miles. This would also be a big test of my recent change to a (mostly) vegan, gluten-free diet. I've been surprised at what a difference the new foods have made, but that's a topic for another post.
I was telling a tap dance buddy of mine that I wondered if I was overdoing it to do the MS ride and train for the Cap Tex triathlon. Then I found out that several of my triathlon teammates were doing the MS ride, too, and thought, OK, I'm not so crazy after all. To which she replied "insanity loves company." So true. There are worse kinds of insanity. This is one I can live with.
The greatest thing about this, my fifth MS150, was that I had asked more people in my family to support me. I had also told many of my friends that I was doing the ride, and was overwhelmed by the well-wishes and moral support that I received. It made for an extraordinary ride. It had been seven years since I had attempted the MS150, and while my circumstances were similar, I was clearly a different person this time around. Stronger, more focused on why I was there, and more present for myself throughout the ride.
We were blessed with ideal cycling conditions - overcast skies, cool breezes, and predominant tailwinds. Really the best conditions I can remember of all the 150s I've done. But what was even more magical was the strength I felt as I rode. Especially the first day. I spent well over six hours in the saddle, pedaling along, and much of the way I felt both propelled and carried along by the support of my family and friends who had told me they'd be thinking of me that weekend. I also felt strongly connected to my Aunt Jan, for whom I was riding. There were so many moments where I felt sheer gratitude well up in my heart. Gratitude for the support I received from others, gratitude for the opportunity to be of service to my aunt, who suffers from MS, and gratitude for the ability to be out there on my bike, riding, riding, and riding. Most of the time it felt like I was flying, hardly working at all. So, to my friends and family who supported me, in more ways than they knew, Thank you. You made this the best MS150 ever.
Other notable happenings on the ride included sightings of scissortail flycatchers, and roadsides teeming with wildflowers, especially the field of bluebonnets where several Jersey cows were resting, clearly making the best use of their time. My favorite town to ride through was Fayetteville, where it seemed like the whole town had come out to line the streets to greet us, blowing bubbles and cheering us on, with signs welcoming us to their town. Heartwarming, too, were the people living with MS who thanked us as we rode by. I smiled a whole lot on this ride, and that was wonderful. Here's a photo from the first day of the ride.
I've been going nonstop since finishing the MS150 bike tour, which I affectionately refer to as "The Great 172-mile Training Ride." This year I managed to take care of myself pretty well in the week leading up to the tour, tapering my triathlon training so I'd be as rested as possible. I was pretty nervous leading up to the ride because my longest training ride was only 32 miles. This would also be a big test of my recent change to a (mostly) vegan, gluten-free diet. I've been surprised at what a difference the new foods have made, but that's a topic for another post.
I was telling a tap dance buddy of mine that I wondered if I was overdoing it to do the MS ride and train for the Cap Tex triathlon. Then I found out that several of my triathlon teammates were doing the MS ride, too, and thought, OK, I'm not so crazy after all. To which she replied "insanity loves company." So true. There are worse kinds of insanity. This is one I can live with.
The greatest thing about this, my fifth MS150, was that I had asked more people in my family to support me. I had also told many of my friends that I was doing the ride, and was overwhelmed by the well-wishes and moral support that I received. It made for an extraordinary ride. It had been seven years since I had attempted the MS150, and while my circumstances were similar, I was clearly a different person this time around. Stronger, more focused on why I was there, and more present for myself throughout the ride.
We were blessed with ideal cycling conditions - overcast skies, cool breezes, and predominant tailwinds. Really the best conditions I can remember of all the 150s I've done. But what was even more magical was the strength I felt as I rode. Especially the first day. I spent well over six hours in the saddle, pedaling along, and much of the way I felt both propelled and carried along by the support of my family and friends who had told me they'd be thinking of me that weekend. I also felt strongly connected to my Aunt Jan, for whom I was riding. There were so many moments where I felt sheer gratitude well up in my heart. Gratitude for the support I received from others, gratitude for the opportunity to be of service to my aunt, who suffers from MS, and gratitude for the ability to be out there on my bike, riding, riding, and riding. Most of the time it felt like I was flying, hardly working at all. So, to my friends and family who supported me, in more ways than they knew, Thank you. You made this the best MS150 ever.
Other notable happenings on the ride included sightings of scissortail flycatchers, and roadsides teeming with wildflowers, especially the field of bluebonnets where several Jersey cows were resting, clearly making the best use of their time. My favorite town to ride through was Fayetteville, where it seemed like the whole town had come out to line the streets to greet us, blowing bubbles and cheering us on, with signs welcoming us to their town. Heartwarming, too, were the people living with MS who thanked us as we rode by. I smiled a whole lot on this ride, and that was wonderful. Here's a photo from the first day of the ride.
11 April 2007
is it wrong to love my wetsuit?
Our wetsuits came in a couple of weeks ago, and I can honestly say I'm now looking forward to the open water swim practices. Not so much that first night. I really had my guard down because the coaches had assured us we were just going to put them on and get wet, not do a full workout. So when they said swim around the perimeter of the lake, I was not at all mentally prepared. That made for an anxiety-ridden half mile swim, which was probably more of an emotional/psychological workout for me than a physical one.
I was better prepared for week two, having done some of my swimming affirmations. That night, I completed two laps around the lake with my awesome swim buddy, and we both got checked off for the swim portion of the race. There is a lot of value in practicing in open water. My comfort level went up exponentially in one week. The skills are taking a bit longer, but in this race, to finish is to win. At last week's open water swim practice, I actually got into a groove for about a minute on the second lap. Progress!
And now, without further adieu, a couple of paeans to the wetsuit:
Top five reasons I heart my wetsuit:
5. I get a nice aerobic and strength workout putting it on, thus negating the need to warm up once I'm in the water.
4. Black goes with everything.
3. Black is slimming.
2. It keeps me warm and cozy.
1. I float!
And here are the top five things I feel like when I wear said wetsuit.
5. The sta-puft marshmallow man.
4. Angelina Jolie in a Tomb Raider movie (a girl can dream).
3. I'm gliding through the water.
2. A river otter.
1. A good swimmer!
08 April 2007
how swimming reminds me of golf
Practicing swimming, to me, is a lot like practicing golf. It's all in the details, the technique, and there are at least fifteen things to think about while swimming if I want to be efficient at propelling myself through water. Elbows up, chin tucked, don't rotate too far when turning your head to breathe, keep one eye on the bottom of the pool, kick from the hips, reach, but don't overreach, breathe from alternate sides, exhale completely before taking a breath, check your position every tenth stroke, don't cross your midline with your stroke, press your chest down, and above all, relax. That last one is the hardest of all for me.
No wonder swimming wears me out! I see swimming as a problem, and that is part of my problem with swimming. I describe myself as a poor swimmer, so that is exactly what I am. It finally dawned on me last week that possibly the best thing I can do to improve at swimming is to adjust my thinking and attitude about swimming in a positive direction. Create some swimming affirmations, if you will. I can comfortably swim one mile without stopping. Swimming is a fun way for me to challenge my abilities. Swimming is fun.
I actually had fun swimming for the first time in a long time last summer, when I visited Balmorhea State Park. It was such a delightful place to swim - a huge, clear, spring-fed West Texas desert oasis, with a smattering of native fish sharing the 25 foot deep pool - that I jumped off the high-dive with the excitement and glee of a kid, and challenged myself to swim across the widest parts of the pool, reveling so much in the wash of the cool clear waters that I forgot to be afraid. I consider San Solomon Springs to be a magical place. Why else would I take a two hour detour for a chance at another swim on my return trip? I am not the kind of person to plan my journeys around swimming opportunities. Accessing those positive memories of swimming for pure enjoyment and adventure would probably serve me well in my swim practice.
No wonder swimming wears me out! I see swimming as a problem, and that is part of my problem with swimming. I describe myself as a poor swimmer, so that is exactly what I am. It finally dawned on me last week that possibly the best thing I can do to improve at swimming is to adjust my thinking and attitude about swimming in a positive direction. Create some swimming affirmations, if you will. I can comfortably swim one mile without stopping. Swimming is a fun way for me to challenge my abilities. Swimming is fun.
I actually had fun swimming for the first time in a long time last summer, when I visited Balmorhea State Park. It was such a delightful place to swim - a huge, clear, spring-fed West Texas desert oasis, with a smattering of native fish sharing the 25 foot deep pool - that I jumped off the high-dive with the excitement and glee of a kid, and challenged myself to swim across the widest parts of the pool, reveling so much in the wash of the cool clear waters that I forgot to be afraid. I consider San Solomon Springs to be a magical place. Why else would I take a two hour detour for a chance at another swim on my return trip? I am not the kind of person to plan my journeys around swimming opportunities. Accessing those positive memories of swimming for pure enjoyment and adventure would probably serve me well in my swim practice.
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