Same Route, Different Journey

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."  -Heraclitus

Speaking of rivers, today I issued an eviction notice to the E. Coli residing in the Russian River. They have less than a month to evacuate.  Or it's on.  Like Donkey Kong. (or maybe off, like Vineman is completely called off, we'll see...)

Today was the Vineman recon ride, where we had 85 miles to preview the crappy roads and ride up the infamous Chalk Hill (it's not really all that it's "chalked up" to be, eh guys?).  I have a soft spot in my heart for this course because it helped establish the journey to my first Ironman.  I used the Half Aquabike in 2008 to give me courage to sign up for my first half Ironman in Oceanside (2009), and used the Full Aquabike (2009) to convince myself that I could physically do a full Ironman (2011).  You know, just add a marathon at the end, and we're good!  For me, it's all about setting small goals, achieving them, and setting larger goals and going after those.  Baby steps, people. 

Mike decided he didn't have enough practice last week changing my flats last week, so he helped out another rider this week who flatted near the beginning.  We ended up getting dropped by the main group, but between the 4 of us, we had enough tubes, patch kits, tire levers and nutrition to keep everyone happy.

Reason #433 as to why I'm not the ride leader. I can't even understand my own map

Luckily, we just followed the boys' rears

Guess who is gonna do the Full Aquabike?  Hammerhead on the left.
I'm betting he's gonna win the thing and then register for Ultraman at the rate he's been going.

With the exception of a few additional mechanical hiccups in the ride, it was an incredibly gorgeous route with perfect weather.  Next time we're ditching the bikes and just hitting up the wineries.

Riding this course brought back so many memories.  I remember at first how Chalk Hill was THE HILL at mile 46.  Like you would shiver in your chamois and take 2 gels at mile 40 and pray to the cycling gods that you wouldn't blow up and vomit all over the Team in Training volunteers with their cowbells.  But now, it's just chalk hill (doesn't even deserve caps!).  Nothin' crazy.  It's funny how the route has stayed exactly the same, but each time I've ridden it, I can see how much I've changed.  

The first time racing the Full Aquabike in 2009

A few years ago I rode this route with someone that I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with.   I remember first riding this course on a road bike, and a year later, on a road bike with clip-on aero bars.  And now as I ride it with new friends, a new TT bike, and a new triathlon kit, I am grateful (and relieved in other areas) that things change in life as we grow as athletes and individuals.  It's good to try out new riding routes, but there's something special about coming back to the old ones and seeing how much you've grown since you've last ridden them.

But some things will always stay the same.  I still love riding my bike.

Lapped.

"There's always room for improvement.  It's the biggest room in the house."  

-Louise Heath Leber

Tonight at Masters, there was a guy with his own lane and his own 'long course' workout.  Naive and curious, I asked if I could join him, while the rest of the team did shorter sets with more breaks in between.  He welcomed me and was friendly, and then the hell began.  After the 600 yd warm-up (this was an all-out sprint for me, basically to stay close to his feet), I knew why the rest of the team had left this man alone.  He obviously had missed his flight to the Olympic trials and decided he would just stay local and swim Masters instead.


Next, we did 2 x 500s, the 1st was a swim set, and the 2nd was a pull set.  During the pull set, as the distance increased, he gradually kept gaining on me.  I was red-lining the entire time, and eventually the time came when I stopped at the wall to let him go ahead of me.   I had been lapped!  We finished the entire set of 3400 yds in 45 minutes.  I would have vomited on the pool deck, but luckily didn't have anything in my stomach since I came straight from work.


I love this sport because there is always room for improvement.  Our "ultimate potential" as athletes is an elusive target, but in fact, this is a good thing.  In the words of the great Chuckie V, "If we knew we had capped out our potential, we'd be a lot less happy, as there'd be little to strive toward, and little to hope for.  Remember, the journey is the destination."


And perhaps the above demonstrates why we show up to the pool deck, day after day, rain or shine.  By chasing our ultimate potential, we hope that we will end up lapping the uninspired and stagnant version of ourselves with our old dreams and stale goals.

Flats and Friends.

There's really nothing good about anything flat... being flat-chested, riding a flat bike course (hello, headwind!), having a flat butt, or getting flat tires.  I've been up since 3am, but now the events of the day are finally settling in.  Yesterday I talked to my dad and told him how a lot of people who had signed up for the Silicon Valley Long Course triathlon had dropped out because of the change in swim locations, the early bike drop off, and the logistical challenges.



"So, why are you doing it, then?" he asked kindly.  I was speechless.  The thought of quitting even before the event took place never even occurred to me.  I was reminded of this athlete's point of view.  "When it comes to living, it is better to DNF than DNS."


I came into today with a specific time goal in mind.  Only one other person knew about it; we had done the math on my splits and it seemed achievable....definitely not easy, and definitely cutting it close, but still somewhat within my grasp.  I've never had a time goal in a race, and we were banking on the fact that if I achieved it, I would be joining her on a flight to Oklahoma in September to race. 


I saw Jamii at the swim start.  This girl deserves an entire post dedicated to her and her exponential growth as a triathlete.  Seeing her made me happy; familiar faces at race starts always help to calm the nerves. (btw, today was her birthday, and she welcomed another year of her life with a podium finish.  Not to mention she just started doing triathlon less than a year ago!)


I was happy with my swim and ended up with the fastest time in my age group. (At least one good thing came out of today!) The wave starts were so spread out so far between the men and the women that I ended up swimming the entire swim alone until I caught the slower men from the earlier waves.  I love my new TYR Hurricane wetsuit.  It was our first swim together (so much for 'not trying anything new on race day,' huh?) and so far it's love at first swim.

Check out the tongue action!

I told myself earlier today I was going to RACE my bike.  Not just meander along and use it as a "training ride," but really see what these legs had in them. I kept thinking of this poem:

But I changed the words around and made it, "Swim like your coach is watching, Bike like you've never crashed..." Today was the 3-week mark from my horrible crash, but I biked fearlessly (and safely) today.  When others were spinning, I was laying down the hammer.  I was racing my bike!  Then, the party ended.  Halfway through the bike, I discovered I had a flat tire in my front wheel. It was such a Debbie Downer (wah-wah-wah).


"This is good practice. You know what to do..." I told myself this to stay calm.  I've never flatted in a race.  I was doing fine until I was trying to fit the tire over the new tube.  I flagged down a guy who happened to be the perfect person to "bother."  Turns out he was completely off course from his sprint triathlon bike course and was totally lost and totally nice, so he didn't mind.


To make a long story short, it took 5 different cyclists and various tubes and patch kits to get me up and running again.  During those 45 minutes that we were all on the side of the road, I wanted to quit and just wait for the SAG vehicle.  I really didn't care anymore.  But then it was fixed, so Mike decided to finish up the long course bike route with me.  He was good company, and made the remaining miles go by faster.  My attitude completely changed.  It was more about being thankful for genuinely good people in life and enjoying a beautiful day on my bike with my new friend, rather than a time goal.


We came into T2 and lost each other for a bit.  I ran the first 2 miles alone and hated every step. I thought how much fun I wasn't having, and how I wanted to quit. (How do you even drop out of these races? Should I finish the first 6 mile loop and then turn in my timing chip? But weren't they giving out swim preems for the fastest times? If I dropped out, I wouldn't qualify, right?) These were the delusional thoughts that were going through my head.  Until I saw Mike.  He was like my freakin' angel in a blue jersey.  Apparently, he had run ahead of me and spotted me on the turn-around running to mile 3.  He really was going to run 13.1 miles! This was huge since he's never done more than an Olympic distance triathlon before. It gave me new purpose to finish- to see someone accomplish their own big goal.  


I was tired and couldn't spare any extra oxygen to talk, so I asked him to tell me a story.  He kept me entertained for 11 miles with his stories about his traveling to Bolivia, New Zealand, Ecuador, Peru, Rome and France.  We shared Clif Shotblocks and jokes, and he kept my mind intrigued and made the miles pass so much more quickly.  He ran with me and never made me feel slow.  He called it "steady" and assured me that it was the best way to quadruple an anticipated race distance and best assimilate a "sprinter" into a long-course athlete.  

Today I learned that the company you surround yourself with is a large predictor of your own success and your attitude.  Alone, I wanted to quit. Together with Mike, we both achieved our own version of "success."  Success for me today was merely finishing and not throwing in the towel, and his was defined by reaching a new milestone in triathlon distance.  By stating his goal, it gave me renewed purpose in finishing.  

As we were nearing the finish chute, I asked if we could hold hands as we crossed the finish line.  He agreed.  To me, this symbolized the heart and soul of this sport- overcoming obstacles, persevering, and helping one another achieve something greater than he or she could accomplish alone.  And that, my friends, is so much more important than nailing a personal time goal.

Friends for 38 of the last 70.3 miles, but memories to last for a lifetime

Delicious Ambiguity.

"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.  Delicious ambiguity."  -Gilda Radner


I'm back in the saddle.  And it feels oh so good. 

Returned from SB with the fixed-up bike, a new Giro Aeon helmet and TYR Cat 3 Hurricane wetsuit.
And I thought Costco and Target were moneyholes!

After a quick swim sesh with Dana, we both met up with her teammate Kim for an easy, no-hammering 50 miles.  The good thing about riding with others is that they call stuff out on the road- glass, potholes, wood pieces, dead squirrels, $20 bills (I don't call those out, I just reach down and grab 'em).  Some roads that you ride are pretty clean, others you feel like you're riding the Tour de Bris.  I'm now hypersensitive to everything in my path; I'm sure eventually I'll calm down and be able to eat, apply make-up, and talk on the phone all at the same time like before.

Today I was driving and I spotted some glass.  Immediately, I could hear a girl's voice scream, "GLASS!!!!!!" in my head.  And I started to think, "What if life was like riding in a pack of cyclists, where someone would always scream out warnings- LOSER BOYFRIEND!!  SALMONELLA SUSHI!!  DEAD-END JOB!!  CRAZY AND DANGEROUS RESCUE DOG!!" In a way it perhaps would be helpful, but I think it would take the adventure and excitement out of life.  There's something thrilling about discovering what's beyond the next corner, without someone ruining the surprise for you.  Delicious ambiguity.


Who would have thought this amazing woman would finish her life at 105 years, leaving a legacy for future generations and taking a ton of secrets to the grave?

Celebrating her last 105th year on this earth.

Who would have thought that our new rescue dog would maul this innocent girl and also attack my dad after 2 weeks of being calm inside of the house?

Yes. I made her read my autobiography. In my bed.

It has been quite a week.  But I have found that it is more fulfilling to take risks- to ride a bike, to adopt a rescue animal, to open yourself up to love another human being...because without risking and taking a chance, life is empty.


This Monday starting at 12pm, I'm going to take a risk and see if I can be one of the lucky ones to be registered for this inaugural event... 

Ironman Lake Tahoe- Sept 22, 2013

Will I get in? Will I be on the waiting list? Delicious ambiguity.

Del Valle 2.5 km Open Water Swim Race Report

Quick and dirty: 2nd place age group (30-34).  Overall time: 40:31.


WARNING: Lots of dirty deets and race babble to follow...


During the past week of recovering from my crash, I received a lot of love.  Some of it was from others...

And some of it was from yours truly.

Some girls spend $450 on purses. (This was my rationale)

Swimming is always the best form of exercise to ease back into activity (it's always the first activity after doing an Ironman), and I was curious to use it as a litmus test to see how injured muscularly my body in general was after that pretty intense crash.  On Wednesday, a friend challenged me to a dual in the pool.  Seriously?  (What kind of sick individual would challenge an injured athlete? And trash-talk like there's no tomorrow?!?) How could I turn this down? At first it was a 1 lap race, but I called it unfair because he's as tall as Michael Phelps and could easily beat me across the pool with 2 arm strokes.  So I made him extend it to 2 laps.  Granted, this guy doesn't even swim, but it definitely lit my competitive fire.  


After I beat him down to Chinatown (kidding... I know he's reading this), I realized my left deltoid was pretty sore (it took the brunt of the impact), and I was honestly concerned because physically I was around 60% of my norm.  This dual in the pool was a complete joke, but  merely channeling my "race mentality" for even a minute made me hungry to race on Sunday, roadrash and all.

Sunday morning came around and I was excited/nervous, not nauseated/nervous.  BIG difference.  As I was driving to Lake Del Valle, I received a text from my friend Dana ("Go kick some swimmer's butts this morning! Sending you speedy thoughts!"), and it totally made me super excited to do just that. What's the use of getting up at 5am on Fridays to swim Master's and kill yourself on anaerobic sets if you can't cash in all that hard work later?


Let's just say I arrived ready to cash it in.

Gorgeous day for an open water swim, eh?

I started in the second wave.  Everyone was bunched behind me except for a few men, and I was trying to decipher who looked strong and had fast feet.  Some guys looked so OLD.  But I know that even old guys can swim fast.  Hmmm.  I had 2 minutes to choose my target and we were off.


The pace was pretty fast.  Normally, I use the swim as a warm up for the bike/run, always conserving energy for later.  So I was thrilled that I didn't have to adopt that strategy here.  I was here to race and leave it all in the water.  When I found myself swimming alone, rather than backing off and letting the main group catch me, I put my head down and surged to bridge the gap to faster swimmers.  I chanced it on this swim; there were times I was redlining, but once I found those glorious feet, I could recover for a bit.


For the majority of the swim, I was able to draft off of someone with a super strong kick.  I didn't even bother sighting; I just followed those bubbles and stayed on his feet.  I nicknamed him Bubbles.  And let's just say that I made Bubbles my b*tch for the majority of the swim.  (Thank you, Bubbles, whoever you are, for towing me around!)


After awhile, I decided to actually sight and see where we were in relation to the buoys. I was working so hard at staying on Bubbles' feet that I didn't want to waste a second sighting.  Dumb move.  I looked up and panicked.  Bubbles was going nowhere fast.  It was the two of us on our own, and the rest of the pack was to our far right.  I knew I had to stay with him or I'd be dropped and swimming alone.


Eventually, we merged with the main group and someone started using their body to muscle their way onto Bubbles' feet.  He kept swimming right against my roadrash, so it annoyed me even more.  I let him in and drafted off him for awhile, and then got swarmed by other swimmers.  When I get hit and pushed around, I've learned to not back down.  I tell myself I have every right to be there, and it makes me just swim harder.  I ended up totally cutting off another swimmer as I latched on to someone's kicking feet. (Wow! My aggressive driving on the road actually translates to swimming!)  And immediately, I recognized who it was...BUBBLES!  We were reunited and swam hard to the finish. 


I was happy with how I swam; I knew I did my very best, and was thrilled that it was fast enough for an AG win.

Scored some hardware to go with my roadrash (yeah, I deliberately chose this shadowy pic so the little children wouldn't be scared away)

Afterwards, I showered, make-up'd, and headed down to the South Bay for some more celebrations...

The bride-to-be-about-to-be-dunked

Taking shots. I had to blow this picture up so you can see that both Kimi and I are sporting marks on our left thighs. Like Japanese twins.  Except hers is a birthmark and mine is a fat bruise.

The engagement party also doubled as Kimi's US naturalization party, as demonstrated above.

With all this "racing," and the encouragement of Dana, I'm pretty thrilled to join TriValley Velo cycling team to race with the girls!  It's always been in the back of my mind, but I've never considered it an option.  This year so far has been about taking those "back burner ideas" and turning them into reality!!

Gino working his magic as usual, getting this race horse ready!

Being a patient, in PJs, and pancakes...

Look what I woke up to this morning on the breakfast table.  Seeing all the vicodin I've been inhaling, Nurse Mom does know best.  She had already left for work and was busy seeing her real patients by the time I woke up.

Senna and Ex-lax. My mom obviously knows her sh*t 

I knew I was feeling better and more like myself when I came downstairs and was slightly pissed that my dad didn't make me coffee. (For the record, he makes the best aeropress coffee.  This man has a system for everything, even his coffee, and you can taste the difference.)  Too bad he had already left to volunteer at the old school he had worked at for years before retiring.  (I forgot that most people actually have a life and have stuff to do on Mondays).  When he returned (and found me on the couch, the same place I was when he left), I expressed my disappointment in his behavior this morning. Being the all-star dad that he is, he promptly made me a cup of his special aeropress coffee.  I know.  So spoiled.

Coffee always tastes better in a ceramic mug. And when someone else makes it for you, yeah?

I realized then how I've become the "patient in pain" to the "pain in the a$$" patient overnight, so I think I'm definitely on the mend.  They are dumping me off at my own apartment tonight because it is more than obvious that I'm better.


I have been going crazy sitting on this couch for 2 days straight.  My workouts have consisted of this:
Warm-up: 20 minutes, get HR slowly up to 60%
5 x 2 minute walk to fridge at 65% max HR and return to couch 
7 x 2 minute walk to kitchen to refill water bottle at 70% max HR and return to couch
50 x 1 minute walk to bathroom (all my readers should know the size of my tiny bladder by now) at 65% max HR
10 x 2 minute walk to upstairs bathroom at 80% max HR (gotta throw some interval training in there somewhere, yeah?)


Repeat the above 3 times.  Cooldown 15 minutes until HR is 50% max or below.


The caffeine made me feel ambitious, and with my recent obsession with coconut flour I decided to actually DO something and make some low-carb, gluten-free coconut flour pancakes!


Ingredients:
- 4 eggs, room temperature
- 1 cup milk (raw cow's or coconut milk work best)
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1 Tb. honey
- 1/2 c. coconut flour
- 1 tsp. baking soda
- 1/2 tsp. sea salt
- coconut oil or butter for frying (or non-stick cooking spray)

The huge bottle on the left is honey. Obviously, there is more than enough sweetness in this household.  Forget the tiny honey bear containers!

Directions:


1.  Preheat griddle over medium-low heat.  In a small bowl, beat eggs until frothy.  Mix in milk, vanilla, and honey.

2.  In a medium-sized bowl, combine dry ingredients and whisk together. 

3.  Stir wet mixture into dry mixture until coconut flour is incorporated.

4.  Grease pan with butter or coconut oil.  Ladle a few tablespoons of batter into the pan for each pancake. (Note: The batter is thick, try not to freak out.)  Spread it out slightly with the back of a spoon.  The pancakes should be 2-3 inches in diameter.  


5.  Cook for a few minutes on each side, until small bubbles form.  Flip and cook an additional 2-3 minutes.

6.  Serve hot with butter, coconut oil, honey, syrup or fruit.  Enjoy!

I topped mine with organic blueberries and pure maple syrup

Growing up, my dad would always make pancakes for my sister and me on the weekends.  We played a game where we had to guess what "secret" ingredient he had added to the batter.  One week it would be bananas, another week it would be almond extract...


This time the tables were turned and he got to guess what heck his dietitian daughter put in these pancakes...But he loved them, said they were fluffy (yeah!) and filling (from the protein and fiber).  This is the same man who will pound down 3 cups of white rice at one sitting and go back for seconds, so I think we may be making some headway around here!

Dad chose peanut butter as his topping of choice and still enjoyed them as much as I did!

These are best eaten with loved ones, in your pajamas, as I demonstrated today.

I do TRIs, not TBIs...

(TBI stands for Traumatic Brain Injury, for all my non-medical friends).  The vicodin-induced sleep coma has worn off, so I'm lucid enough to blog.  I'm currently at my folk's place and enjoying being able to sleep in and eat home-cooked meals on the couch (is this what normal people do on Sundays?), free wound care/dressing changes, and hanging out with the newest addition of the Kanzaki family, a rescue chowchow/German shepherd mix named Mako. 


Cyclists have a saying, "It's not if you will go down, it's when you will go down."  The Law of Attraction has once again proved itself to be true, since at the beginning of the ride I was thinking to myself, "Hmm. I haven't crashed yet on this bike yet...I wonder when that time will come?"


Well, the time came.


It was the first time that fire trucks and an ambulance showed up on my behalf, the first time I rode inside of an ambulance with the sirens blaring, and my first major crash.

Small veins = nightmare

Just in time for sleeveless shirts and dresses! Impeccable timing, I know.

I have a lot to be thankful for:
-Helpful riders who called 911 when I passed out and waited with my bike until my parents arrived at the scene
-Nothing broken...no broken shoulder, collarbone, scapula... (tuck 'n roll is my new motto)
-The bike is overall ok (it went to bike ER too...aka Sports Basement WC)
-Head/neck/chest xrays are all clear and normal
-I wasn't wearing my new FOMO kit or Betty Designs kit...so I didn't cry as hard when the paramedics were cutting off my trishorts with scissors
-Pain meds, pain meds, pain meds.  Did I mention pain meds?
-My mom is a nurse.  Clearly the right choice of profession as far as I'm concerned.
-The helmet cracked in two places, not my skull
-Health insurance. (I already found out they would cover my ambulance, and out-of-network hospital bills just because John Muir was the closest head trauma hospital around). 


It could have been much worse.  God protected my body and surrounded me with the right people at the right time.  I am very lucky to have parents who will drop everything, navigate with sketchy directions to a remote location, rescue my bike, rush to ER, and house me comfortably. (My mom keeps asking if she can make me something to eat, and just told the dog to answer my call light and empty my commode- no joke).


We encounter risk everyday.  Sure, some activities are more risky, but I believe it's important to continue doing what you love (with safety first always) and not allow fear (or other people's opinions) to cloud your judgement.  I would rather die doing a more "risky" activity that I loved instead of playing it safe and knitting on the couch because it was deemed "safer."

"Go ask mom what time dinner is again?"

But for now, the couch suites me just fine as I recover.  And I'm really digging my therapy dog.

Couch. Check. Computer. Check. Canine. Check.