AG Nationals (Sprint)--8/10/14

The recurring lesson of the summer came to a head at this race--my feelings of competency in the sport are currently based on the company I keep. During the school year (off-season) I'm with my friends and colleagues at work, where I can claim best triathlete, second-best cyclist and top-3 runner status. I don't mind this status one bit.

My ego started its beating this season with the Aquathon series, where I repeatedly exited the water in the bottom third of the pack. It continued at the Masters swim classes where four lanes of swimmers do 100s on 1:50 or better. And it culminated at AG Nationals, where the hard-core and the gifted converge to remind me that I have plenty of work to do.

I kept expectations low. While many participants were aiming for a spot at the World Championships I would be satisfied to finish in the top half. I set up transition as always and wandered like a fish out of water waiting for my wave to warm up.

I had a few acquaintances racing as well but didn't feel close enough to them to "hang out" pre-race. There are many benefits to having a strong support system in the tri community and passing time together before a race is one of them. For whatever reason I've stayed on the fringes of tri communities. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Finally it came time to warm up. I had heard the Lake Michigan water temp was in the 60s and we all know my dislike for cold water. It turned out to be quite pleasant (thank you wetsuit).

The horn was off and I gave it what I had. At one point I felt a bit flooded but eventually settled into a groove. I checked my watch upon exit and it was still at zero so I'd have to wait to see how it went but it felt strong and somewhat fast.

Wetsuit removal was just okay. I think I want a new wetsuit. My old one doesn't fit well and has some tears in it. Or maybe all wetsuits are hard to get off. The real frustration was buckling the helmet. For some reason I couldn't line it up and I lost at least 30 seconds on it. Boo.

Mount was uneventful and I was off on the bike. It was now cloudy and breezy but I was already feeling fatigue. After all, it was the first time I biked after swimming all season. I kept up a race pace throughout the mostly flat course but my 18.4 MPH final average was disappointing.

T2 went well thank goodness, and the run began. Wow, do my legs feel heavy. And plodding. Cumbersome. Slow. I was doing 9-minute miles and not feeling like I had anything left. These were not the times I was putting out last year--further evidence of plateaued fitness.

Disappointment rose when I checked online results a few hours later. Swim time was acceptable, but the other times (not to mention the soreness the rest of the day) wasn't what I had hoped, and the top half of my division didn't happen.

But I have a plan. I'll consult with a coach to get a strength training regimen started in the off-season. I'll read up on Ironman training and nutrition. I'll scale back on bike-run workouts to give my body a break.

As for my sense of competency, I figure I have three choices:

-Compare myself only to the people in my life who don't do what I do

-Compare myself only to the people in my life who do what I do

-Compare myself only to myself

I'm working on Option #3.

Jitters.

The other night at a gathering of friends I was talking shop with Matt, an experienced distance triathlete and a person I secretly despise because he's 3% body fat and he rolls out of bed ready to race on any given day whether he's been training or not. Matt suggested a new strategy for pre-race nutrition. (Difference #1 between devoted athletes and the normal world: What athletes call "nutrition", regular people call "food". Athletes literally plan ahead their nutrition intake for the crucial 48-hour window before a race. This is really just a fancy way of saying they watch what they eat.) Matt tells me that two days before the race, I should eat no carbs at all, then the day before the race eat as many carbs as possible. He backed up the claim with some bit I've already forgotten about the muscles' access to energy stores, or something like that. It made sense at the time, so I'm going to try it. No carbs at all tomorrow.



The point here is that my anxiety level about this race has risen to new levels. A list of anxieties I've been quietly harboring the past few days:



-The lake temperature last year was a face-numbing 55 degrees. This year it's currently mid-60s (quite manageable), but I worry anyway. You never know when Lake Michigan will plummet to its frozen depths again.



-The current forecast for the day is partly cloudy, high of 72 degrees, wind at 7 MPH. In other words, quite nice. But that could change at any moment. What if a hot front comes down from...Canada?



-My congestion has cleared, so I'm healthy as a horse. My taper week included 15-30 minute workouts per day, so I'm vibrating with excess energy. I'm guessing I'll either catch swine flu or pull something.



-My Lobster sent out an email inviting spectators to the race and five friends, two family, two toddlers and an infant are coming to cheer me on. That's a lot of athletic supporters. Or witnesses to my athletic demise. One of the two.



-I've been training for this thing for five months. That's a long time. Long enough? I've done all three distances separately but never together, one after the other, on the same day. It's gonna be a looooong day.



-And on top of it all, I emailed Matt tonight to remind me what foods are carb-less, because I'm pretty sure we don't have any.



It's amazing what the brain can make up to worry about when it faces a challenge.

Let us reflect...

on the Olympics.

I believe "Rhythmic Gymnastics" is the Hallmark Holiday of the Olympics. Hm, what sports drive people to turn on their TVs and watch for hours on end? Gymnastics? Okay, let's make up a sport that looks something like it so we can double our coverage. Please.

Everyone loves Dara Torres for showing young girls that age doesn't matter, and I love her for it too. I also love the subtler, more powerful message she gives just by standing on a swimming block--I am thin because I am healthy and fast, I am not thin just to be thin.

A sport should only be in the Olympics if you break a sweat. Guns do not belong in the Olympics, unless the wielder is being chased by a bear.

I feel badly for Olympians whose experience boils down to one race. Four years of six-hour training days, lives and families on hold, and all their biggest dreams culminate in one day, one event. What if they get the flu? Some bad chicken in their lo mein? What if their bike gets a flat, or a runner cuts them off and they fall down and sprain something? On the other hand, what if a no-name from a lonely poor country has the perfect day, and everything comes together? I guess it goes both ways. Hats off to the marathoners, triathletes, road racers, and distance swimmers who pin all their hopes on one good race.

Fencing freaks me out a little. Here! Let me stab you with my pointer until your helmet beeps, and then we'll stop, take a break, then do it again!

We will never again see an opening ceremony like the one in Beijing. I think 2012 will look 180 degrees different, because London isn't even going to try to compete with that one.

It's tough to compete in a sport with judges. Essentially the athlete is pinning their hopes on the opinions of judges, and I wonder sometimes how often a fourth-place finisher feels jilted or robbed. How often do they blame the judges? Does that make it easier to lose?

Michael Phelps for President.

8/17/08--Pleasant Prairie Triathlon

In the lingo, an "oly" (rhymes with holy moley) is an olympic-distance triathlon, and Pleasant Prairie was my first one. The near-mile swim, 25 mile bike and 10K (6.2 mile) run was twice my usual distance, and twice the lessons learned.



I obsessed about this race--was my training adequate? Why are my legs always sore? If I'm peeling off my wetsuit and it sticks to my feet, will I tip over? And the ultimate dwell: I want to finish this race in three hours. For the week leading up, I managed to turn conversations about politics or our checking account back to the race, and it was starting to take the fun out of the sport (and our marriage). Lesson Number One is to focus on having the best race I can have that day and let the rest take care of itself.

Lesson Number Two is to cut my toenails. I didn't fully realize until the race was over and the shoes came off how bloodied and wounded my toes had become, thanks to a rogue pinky toenail that had free reign during an hour-long run.

Lesson Number Three applies to the swim portion as well as real life--be careful who you follow.

Drafting is perfectly legal and very advantageous in swimming; simply sidle yourself behind a comparable swimmer (without getting kicked in the head) and ride their current. On the long side of our .9-mile triangle I did just that. As we were swimming directly into the rising sun and it was near impossible to see the buoys, I figured I would draft behind this kind lady and let her guide me to the next turn. A few minutes into it I stopped seeing others around us, and a quick look around found us in the middle of the lake, twenty yards from the rest of the pack. Drat.

After my post-race nap I checked the results online. I already knew from my own watch about how fast I had completed each leg, but the online version gives me my times compared to all other females age 35-39. Lesson Number Four comes here. My overall age group rank was 41st out of 58--not in the top half (as I'm accustomed) for any portion except the swim. But here's the thing--I finished in less than three hours. So I think I'm slowly learning (the hard way) that it doesn't matter how well I do compared to others, so long as I'm improving myself.



Yesterday was the last triathlon of my '08 season. I already have plans for the off-season; I know how I can improve. Lessons learned.

Blue Stuff (an update)

You know that blue stuff they gave you in elementary school to help you learn how inefficiently you brush your teeth? You swish it around after brushing and it shows up on all the places you missed that are rotting of plaque as you stand there staring in the mirror at your blue teeth?

I think push-ups serve the same purpose. For I have done my 100 yesterday and 43 so far today and I'm feeling muscles I didn't have last week.

Did you know that we have muscles on the sides of our boobs?

Yay, push-ups--the blue stuff for muscles.

Self-Aware and Diligent.

Peg's comment on my graph post prompted a long conversation today with Erika, complete with defensiveness, tears, and my fair share of introspection.
Peg says " I'll take you as you am" (sic, I love this girl) and she means it. So the question I grappled with is why the hell I'm so obsessed? The obvious answer and the one I fear the most is that society demands us to fit into a Barbie-doll mold and there's something wrong (with us, of course) if we don't. But I've always told myself I don't give a shit about society's opinion of my belly! So today I had to ask myself for real--are you really that shallow that you're watching every little thing you eat and when you eat it and working out ad nauseum to fit some standard of society??
God, I hope not.
As we probed further (hee hee, she said "probe") I defended myself with what I believe are the two reasons I really do care so much:
A. My father died at age 46 of cardiac arrest, exacerbated by high blood pressure. My grandmother, mother and sister have struggled--really really struggled--most of their lives with the same issues. My mom has tried every diet and exercise plan out there just to maintain a weight healthy enough to see her grandchildren, but the fact is we are fighting an uphill battle. We weren't blessed with freight train metabolisms. My point is that I watch very carefully what I eat and I work out because if I don't I will start talking myself out of workouts ("my eyebrows need waxing") and into brownies ("I need to celebrate, I made it to Wednesday!"). And if I stop being diligent, really diligent, I don't have genes on my side and I will slip and I am afraid of that.
2. I have goals. I have goals for myself and for my family, some of which include 4-6 triathlons per summer (including an Ironman before I turn 40), fun runs and bike rides for charity well past retirement, and going rock climbing and hiking and swimming with my kids. I watch what I eat and I work out so I can meet my goals.
Those, I tell myself, are my real reasons. Should this translate into watching every pound and graphing my eating habits? Probably not. So I will change "shallow and obsessed" to "self-aware and diligent", and I will spare blog readers the self-deprecating whining from now on and stick to glorifying myself after killer workouts and awe-inspiring races.
Done.