10K Swim. (too brain-dead to think of a more creative title)

I am proof that the holidays can make a person a 'lil crazy.  (No, I'm not referring to my recent trips to Target).  I've been pondering what my next  big thing will be on the race calendar for 2014.  So far, nothing stood out.  Then, after listening to Hillary Biscay's race report of Ultraman and how she swam a 10K once a week to prepare for that, I was inspired.  This past year, I raced the Del Valle Open Water 5K swim, and visions of racing the 10K next year suddenly made me excited.  So excited, that I wanted to revisit once again how that distance felt.  The last time I did my 100x100s was in February of 2012.

This time around, I enlisted the support of Coach, who was kind enough to join me for part of it.  He even let me borrow his Phoenix triathlon cap so hopefully some of that Aussie speed in the pool would rub off on me.

Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi!

We swam at Heather Farms in Walnut Creek since I knew this would take awhile, and the 8-11am timeframe at Dolores Bengston Pool wouldn't cut it.  

Steamy swims under the full moon in the mornings have been the usual at Dolores Bengston.

Heather Farm's pool was too warm and so gross.  I knew it was going to be a long day.  Luckily, longcourse was on the menu for today, which was a pleasant surprise- cutting the number of flip turns in half made the sets easier to digest mentally.

Funny how Instagram filters can make the water actually look clear! #totalfacade

Here's the set, in case anyone is interested.  I found part of Rappster's workout for his 10K swim sets, and I liked the variety that the 400s added.  Honestly, the last set of 3x400 IMs were done with one-arm butterfly drill.  After 7000 meters in, I could barely manage to swim let alone pull out some butterfly.  (maybe next year??)

10x100 (50 drill, 50 swim)
10x100 swim on 1:45 
3 x {400 IM/ 400 pull paddles/ 100 kick/ 100 back}

10x100 (50 drill, 50 swim)
10x100 swim on 1:45 
3 x {400 IM/ 400 pull paddles/ 100 kick/ 100 back}

Have fun, kiddos.

Here's some things I learned in the 3+ hours I spent in the pool today:

1) Company makes things better.  Coach joined me for a bit, and it helped to have someone next to me, count with me, and commiserate with.  When he left, it took more to stay focused and motivated.
2) Be focused on the lap at hand.  I would find myself thinking about the next set and how much more I had to do, and I would want to quit.  Then, I'd bring myself back to the lap and tell myself, "At this moment, I am focused on quality freestyle pull with these paddles..." which brings me to my next point...
3) Quality trumps speed.  I didn't concern myself with pace too much.  I wanted my stroke form to be my first priority- doing an incorrect or sloppy stroke for that far of a distance could cause some serious damage and potential injury.
4) I should have eaten more.  For most of my normal swims (3500-4000 yards), I just drink water or an electrolyte drink.  I started eating my ClifShot blocks around 5000 meters in and felt like I had fallen behind.  When you can feel yourself actively bonking, it's a bad sign. 
5) I felt weird eating.  At the end of each 1000m, I would reward myself with some chews and the girl sharing my lane would just stare.  I felt like the chick at the gym who was drinking a 400 kcal protein shake after doing 30 minutes on the elliptical.  A part of me wanted to say, "Sistalove, pleeease. Put your snorkel back on and mind your own beeeezness- I've been swimming long enough to have shared my lane with 2 different people before you who all did their workout already."  And another part of me just said to myself, "Eat, put your goggles back on, and swim."
6) I feel invincible now.  Why?  Because I swam a 10K?  No, because I swam through a bloody bandaid and a yellowjacket without barfing or screaming.

During the swim and after I had finished, Coach gave me some really good things to think about for the future- about racing vs participating, about how I am still learning what 'my fast' is, and how it's not about the races that you do, but rather how you race them.

So, am I going to race the 10K swim?  I don't know.  It's like asking someone after they complete Ironman if they're going to do another one.  For now, it's back to the drawing board again for me, hopefully with something exciting in the making.

Ask me in a week.

Flexibility.

It's not news that I like structure.  Believe me, my monthly planner has all of the big workouts written in- the 21 mile run, the 90 mile bike followed by the hour run, the 10 hr day (next Saturday, to be exact)...and to be perfectly honest, I actually enjoy the long stuff.  These were the workouts that I was told about from the beginning, and I was looking forward to them (we're all a little cray cray).  But now I look at them and understand that modifications need to be made.  And I just have to be flexible, breathe, and allow the body to do what it will do.

Translating flexibility now to my training program...

Last week, I was not Ms. Flexible Ironman Training Plan Girl. I was ready to call it quits.  Done.  Game over.  I can't even walk.  Pua.


And then, all of a sudden, it was like the Ironman Cowbird came and laid its eggs into my nest, pushing out the eggs of despair, frustration, fear of failure, and negativity.  Family and friends supported my decision either way.  But this week, miraculously, the foot is healing. But most of all, my spirit is healing.  I've had really positive and supportive encouragement from those who I respect both as athletes and as people.  Hulk reminded me of everything we both have invested already in this journey.  After our conversation, all of a sudden it came flooding back to me- the early 4:45am wake-up calls to swim, the long winter training rides where I'd try my hardest to not get dropped by the boys, the evening rides when I just wanted to go home after work and nap, bowing out of social engagements because I had an early bedtime- both of us understood the sacrifices of doing this sport.  His valuable input sparked the question- "What is better, to DNF (did not finish) or DNS (did not start)?  And my answer resonated with Kathryn Bertine, who failed to qualify for the London Olympics in women's cycling-  

"I have twice tried to cycle my way to the Olympics and did not succeed on either attempt.  And yet, I refuse to use the word 'fail.'  Not reaching a goal is one thing, but to attach failure to it would take away all I did achieve along the way.  From seeing the world to meeting incredible competitors to improving as an athlete, I have only gained, not lost.  To 'fail' at anything means one must first try something, so technically the failure cannot exist without trying; and if there is effort, then perhaps there is no such thing as failure.  The gift of disappointment is it shows us our capacity to care, want, hope and be truly invested in life and go after what we want.  It hurts when we don't reach our goal, but disappointment is an odd sort of victory; it can be felt only by those who try.  I put my heart and soul into trying.  I am pretty certain that is what hearts and souls are for.  There is no greater regret than looking back on life and wondering, 'What if?'"

So now, I am learning to be flexible.  I am still listening to my body, evaluating the levels of pain, and accepting the current foot situation.  Luckily, there is progress.  I can water run with a brace, without pain.  And the indoor trainer doesn't flare it up.  And so, despite the numerous physical disappointments that have wormed their way into my Ironman journey, I continue to hold on to hope, keeping the faith, and reminding myself to never stop trying. 

Multi-tasking at its best- Water running while listening to podcasts.
The guys in the hot tub drinking their beer think it's pretty awesome too.

P.M.A.

I first heard of this term a few years ago, but never really used it.  Then during one practice while I was talking to Wolfie, it resurrected itself.  

"We just need to have a P.M.A." 
"What's that?" she asked.
"Positive mental attitude."

And just like that, it became a permanent part of our vocabulary.  I've learned on this journey that there are two ways of approaching hard workouts- 1) Embrace the suck (the preferred masochistic approach of Macca and Hulk) or 2) Have a PMA (the preferred approach for Wolfie and me).

One of my favorite amateur triathletes Sonja Wieck said it best- "It's true that your ability to remain positive in all situations will give you a leg up on your competition, and even if it doesn't...at least you will have a positive outlook on things.  If you are fast and happy, you're good.  If you are slow and happy, still good.  But if you are fast or slow and unhappy...no bueno.  If you are slow and unhappy, I'm pretty darn sure that shifting to slow and happy will give you the best chance at becoming fast and happy."

An example of NOT having a PMA.  A mud-covered face and booty during a rainy bike sesh.

And this here folks, is Wolfie, the fresh-faced PMA model.

So the recipe for success, alongside a good coaching program?  PMA.

On Tuesday morning in the pool, I was chatting with Wolfie.  That night my group was supposed to do power climbs up Mt. Diablo.  And I was not really that excited.  Did I mention that I was not that excited?

"Ohhhhh Shadow, you gotta have a PMA.  It'll be FUN!  You might see Bambi!  It's soooo pretty up there."  It was semi-sarcastic, but it made me laugh, and it did change my perspective.  Wolfie knows all the right things to say to me.

That night, I resolved to have a PMA.  It helped a lot.  And my new climbing gears on my road bike helped too, as well as the fact that I had really awesome company.

Doing power climbs up Mt. Diablo with this as the backdrop?  No complaints.

No Bambi sightings, but I was trailing behind these guys. #thenextbestthing

And yesterday was my first double-run day.  I like double mint gum.  And double chocolate chip cookies.  But double runs?  Not so much.  I was especially not exactly looking forward to the run after work, but I loaded up my ipod shuffle with Rich Roll's new podcast featuring Hillary Biscay, laced up my shoes, and didn't forget the most important thing- my PMA.  In all honesty, it was the most energizing/relaxing/beautiful run I've had in a long time.  It actually felt better than the run I had in the morning.

Double runday funday.

Having a PMA helps not only in sport, but also in your professional life.  If shifts occur on the work horizon, having a PMA is critical in allowing you to embrace changes as growth opportunities and creative new endeavors, rather than scary roads.  I think it's true- you can change your life by simply changing your attitude.

In everything that we do, we have a choice about how we approach it.

So either embrace the suck.

Or have a PMA.

Calidoscopio.

This morning I believed with all my heart that today would be a really fast swim day, and hopefully fast enough to secure a 1st place AG win.  It may seem trite to some, but I really wanted this.  Sure, I've never raced an open water 5K, but I did the math, checked results from last year against my old 2.5K results, and trusted the amazing coaching and swim sessions that I've had since February.  As I was eating my pre-race breakfast, I happened to stumble upon this video.

It left me tearful over my bowl of oatmeal, and there were some valuable lessons I gained- Fall into your own tempo.  Don't allow the pace of others to dictate your race.  Find your own 'fast' and have faith in it.  Trust it, even if others may judge you, and comment- like the track announcer did- that you're "way out of the race right now."

Lake Del Valle. 5K = 2 loops around.  Feeding boat on bottom left! 

The swim start was competitive and fast, and unlike triathlon where strong swimmers can 'out-bully' weaker swimmers, everyone here was stubbornly battling for position and no one was letting up.  Someone behind me kept grabbing and pulling my feet down so I couldn't breathe (I know this was likely unintentional as they were probably trying to stroke their arms forward).  But still.  At one point, another swimmer and I got entangled in each other's arms so we looked like BFFs.  That actually made me laugh.

This is cool on the beach.
During a competitive open water swim?  Not so cool.

I settled into my rhythm and kept asking myself and self-assessing- "Am I giving everything that I can?  Am I squeezing out every last drop?"  I just imagined myself in the pool next to Hulk, and all of those times when we'd have butterfly interspersed into a long swim set to build endurance- just enough to raise the heart rate, but short enough to still recover from that effort and settle back into your rhythm.  Like the butterfly, I'd sprint to chase the bubbles in front of me, roll through it, and recover.  And repeat.  On the second lap around, there was no 'pack,' but merely random individual swimmers sprinkled throughout the water.  To choose a target was meaningless.  I just put my head down and kept swimming "my fast."

As I passed the final turn buoy, I turned on the motor as high as it would go.  At this point, we were all so spread out, each of us choosing a different line to the finishing chute.  I channeled Calidoscopio, coming along that last turn- strong, in rhythm and in flow.

I ran up the ramp and almost lost my balance as the volunteer removed my timing chip.  "Good job, Bob!" I looked up in surprise at who knew my secret nickname, and it was Talia- we had swam together through high school and at UCSD. It was great to see her there. Another friendly face had also perfectly timed his bike ride to hear the announcer say my name- it really made my day.

I was really happy with my swim- 1:25:35.  Was the course longer than 3.1 miles?  Some said yes.  Regardless, I was proud of my effort and was pretty sure that I had placed.  All that changed when I checked the results.  My heart sank.  Above my name was another 32 year-old girl's name, with a time faster than mine by 15 seconds.  All of a sudden, in a flurry of disappointment, a really perfect swim became the object of detailed analysis.  

"Should I have gone out faster?"  I answered myself right away- "No.  I went out as fast as I could."  I took a leap of faith and wasn't afraid to swim alone, even if it meant ditching the feet in front of me and the effortless draft they offered.  I knew deep down in my heart that I swam the best race that I could.  I told myself, "C'mon!  You should be so happy with 2nd place!"   But still, I couldn't shake the disappointment. 

And that's when I met Susan.

As the last swimmer finishing the 5K, her 5K swim time rivaled that of some people who did the 10K swim... 3+ hours.  In fact, as she was toweling off, some people asked her if she had just finished the 10K swim.  You couldn't tell since she had a huge smile spread across her face.  Her 63 year-old body was beaming.  "That was the hardest thing that I've ever done.  I wanted to quit so badly.  But I didn't.  I'm so incredibly proud of myself that I could cry!"

Wow.  Attitude check.

Susan continued, "I know I'm a slow swimmer.  I know that."  In our conversation, I learned that she had just started swimming when she was 54 years old.  

I was intrigued.  "What did you tell yourself when you wanted to quit?"
"I dedicated this race to my friend who has cancer.  And even though this is hard, it's nothing in comparison to fighting cancer.  I do these open water swims and everyone asks me, 'What was your time?  What was your time??'"

She paused.  It was at that moment when our eyes met and I spoke.  "But really, time doesn't matter.  At the end of the day, you and I both swam a 5K.  And that's a lot more swimming than most people would ever attempt.  Your courage, irrespective of your finishing time, will serve to inspire the people you know to attempt something that is outside of their comfort zone."

She began to cry.  "Thank you."  I looked at her as well with tear-filled eyes.  Really, I was thankful to her.  Her attitude gave me a renewed and different perspective.  Sure, it would have been nice to win 1st place.  But at the the end of the day, it's more about giving all you have, at that moment, and surrendering the outcome.  And that's what we both did today.

When I look at my medal, I'll be reminded of Susan- and even if she never wins a tangible medal for her swim efforts, I know that her heart and her story is adorned with those medals of courage, honor, and faith- things of lasting value.

Hardware to remind me of this day and the lessons I learned.

Perhaps just like Susan and Calidoscopio- even if others label you as 'older' and 'slower,' you must learn to be comfortable going at your own pace in your own race.  In your jobs, relationships, or marriages, outsiders may judge and say that you are "way out of the race right now."  The trick is to drown out the voices of those critics and trust what you know is true.  It's at this moment when the race- and the victory- are yours for the taking.

Unfinished Business.

To date, there has been only one event in my life that I DNF'd. (For non-athlete readers, that means Did Not Finish).  It was raining that day.  And no, not the the little sprinkles that cause your hair to frizz.  During the first 5 minutes of the ride, it was like someone put me in the shower and turned the water on full blast.  The torrential downpour was so bad that I remember asking myself, "Which is safer? Having the rain fall into my eyes and risk having my contacts fall out, or ride with my Oakleys and perform a self-windshield-wiper action with my fingers every few minutes?"

After descending some hills, gripping my brakes fully, and still rolling out into the street due to lack of traction, I quit after the first rest stop.  I didn't even make it to mile 20. 

I knew this was the wise decision, the safer decision.  But still...

You know the free t-shirts you get after completing events?  In 2009, I had pre-ordered a size for the guy I was with at the time, since I know that in this sport, it takes two.  It killed me because he wore it all the time.  Hey, it's just a shirt, right?  But it secretly bothered me because it was a reminder of the fact that I really hadn't successfully accomplished the Grizzly Peak Century- I had only grabbed a few pretzels and GU gels at the first rest stop and called it a day.

At the Vineman awards ceremony- with the GPC shirt.  WHYYYY?

Needless to say, I had unfinished business with the GPC.  To be honest, I was dreading it.  I was dreading the hills, the elevation (8,600 ft and change), 102 miles...but I wanted to prove to myself that I could rewrite the ending to this story, even a few years later.

And yes, this year was very different.  Wolfie and Hulk fed me an awesome dinner and kept my spirits high on Saturday night, and Stinger packed my bike up the day before so I could just shimmy over in my chamois early at o'dark-thirty without worrying about bike logistics.  I had good company up the hills, fun playtimes of descending down the hills, and overall, felt pretty amazing.  Some parts were more difficult than others (McEwan Road- cough, cough), but being surrounded with positive friends was a huge determining factor in how the day unfolded.

At one point, we rode past the San Pablo refineries.  The scenery was drab and overall devoid of nature and life.  

Definitely not like riding through the vineyards!

The lack of beautiful scenery made me even more appreciative of the beautiful green landscape, rolling hills, and blue sky that normally fills our sights during our rides. 

The usual. I know. It's ok to be jealous.

I noticed the parallel in my own life.  I had to witness the ugly times to really appreciate the beauty I am now surrounded by with my fellow friends and teammates. 

Choo-choo! Riding the Stinger Train.
Notice the difference in our expressions. haha!

Finished business.

An epic ride with epic teammates calls for an epic beer.

I no longer fear this ride, the distance, or the elevation.  This was a lesson that you can re-write the ending to a story.  The inspiration and courage can be channeled from the people you choose to surround yourself with, and also from within you.  

But it is you who ultimately holds the pen. 

Now, how do I order extra 2013 GPC finisher t-shirts?

Small Wins.

It was around mile 70 when I could start to feel the tears welling up in my eyes.  My legs felt like lead.  I was dropped and watched the rest of the group ride away.  Last week at this same hill, I felt so good.  This week I could barely pedal my bike.

Keith dropped back and as I slowly rolled up to him he asked, "How are you feeling?"
It was hard to breathe because I was crying.  "I'm having a hard time.  Today is a bad bike day."

Yes, this did happen.

With the physically and mentally challenging day I had experienced, I was perfectly fine riding back at my own pace since we were only 10 miles away.  His answer surprised me.  "You didn't work your a$$ off for 70 miles to ride home alone.  We're all gonna ride back together."

The last 10 miles were a tangible reminder that in life we are never alone- there are people who act as our steady wheels, shielding and blocking the wind from us so we can arrive at our destination in one piece.

Was able to do this with the wisdom of my teammates and coaches.

In his book The Power of Habits, Charles Duhigg presents the concept of "small wins."  A huge body of research has shown that small wins have enormous power.  Once a small win has been accomplished, it fuels transformative changes that favor another small win. This chain reaction and momentum that is created can convince people that bigger achievements are obtainable.  Even in difficult or challenging times, this momentum still continues to propel you forward.  Pyschologists refer to this as the "science of small wins." The concept applies specifically to business and work models, but I found it can equally apply to sport. 

Thinking back on past training workouts, I rarely remember the easy, good days.  It's those hard days; the ones that really made a dent physically and mentally- that I can recall vividly. 

I can remember the first time I climbed through Morgan Territory, feeling the lactic acid in my legs, and with each turn, seeing the pitch in the road curve ever so slightly upward.  Countless times I contemplated getting off my bike to "stretch" (aka. catch my breath).  But I didn't.  I kept chugging onward.  I kept moving forward.  And I remember how that ride taught me that my little legs have more stamina than I give them credit for.

Or that steep little climb right at the top of Mt. Diablo.  You know, the one where you want to zigzag your bike to offset the grade percentage, or walk your bike up, or kill whoever constructed the road at such an angle?  Yes, these are the rides I remember.  These are my "small wins."

Today's ride distance and the yummy Wolf food that helped fuel me.

Physically, there was nothing "winning" about this ride today.  But it taught me that it is important to finish what you set out to do, and there are people who look after you and help you reach your goal.  During Ironman on the lonely parts of the course when it starts to feel hard, these are the moments that you recall.  This recollection of "small wins"- the times when you resisted the temptation to quit, moved past it and finished intact- provides the momentum that fuels you to that finish line.

Today at mile 70 I said that it was a bad bike day.
I was wrong.
Today was a small win.

The Icarus Deception

"Stop swimming from behind.  Swim YOUR fast."  Coach first said this to me from the pool deck on Tuesday morning.  He repeated these words to me this morning before practice.  I first thought he was referring to my swimming tendencies with my lanemate, since I tend to mindlessly gauge my efforts on his pace.  He is a strong, steady fish, and sometimes it's easier to swim in his shadow than listen to my own body and what is my own perceived effort.

But Coach was referring to the fact that I am swimming slower than I am capable of, mostly because I like to be comfortable.  How can I get faster if I refuse to swim and challenge my body to a higher threshold of work? (notice I deliberately didn't use the word pain...)

Remember Icarus, from Greek mythology? He attempted to escape from Crete by wings made of feathers and wax.  He ignored the instructions not to fly too close to the sun, and the melting wax caused him to fall into the sea where he drowned.

I recently heard of Seth Godin's book, The Icarus Deception: How High Will You Fly?, where he challenges the old rules of playing it safe and staying in your comfort zone in your career and life.  He flips the lesson on the classic Icarus myth, and instead praises Icarus for his willingness to take a risk and challenge preconceived notions.  In society, the real innovators and artists are those who defy traditional rules and strive higher.  They are not afraid to risk. Godin writes about how it is better to be sorry than safe.  We need to fly higher than ever.

In sport, our 'dangerous sun' is also know as our "red line"- the point that you reach where you either quit, vomit, or have to slow down.  Ironically, that line is rarely reached since our head prevents our bodies from ever coming close to that breaking point.

Most of us train in the gray zone, that comfortable place where we give some effort but not enough to make us faster in the long run.  I've been guilty of this.  I know my body and when things start to feel uncomfortable, I dial it back a little, recover and conserve.  I'd rather have "something left in the tank" than crash and burn.  I live up to my nickname at times, where I have a tendency to rest in the shadows and put out effort when I feel like I have something in the tank.  The problem is, I always have more than enough left in the tank.  I have yet to fly close to my sun because I have been afraid of the melting wax on my wings.

Exploring those limits with 3 minute TT relay efforts on the bike.
Gotta love the nickname! 

Hence, my coach's words of advice.

So today I swam MY fast, in my triathlon kit with more drag than I'd prefer.  I felt the lactic acid build up in my muscles.  I kept swimming.  I dismissed the negative thoughts telling me to slow down.  I concentrated on feeling strong and relaxed, and gliding effortlessly over the water.  I adopted the attitude of staying curious, not afraid.  Exploring my limits, and moving past them.

"Stop swimming from behind.  Swim YOUR fast."  Don't gauge your rhythm, your pace, and your path in life upon someone else's.  Pave and discover your own way.

I am still finding my fast in the pool and on the bike, and in life.  Today I came one step closer.

Stay curious.
Dance upon the edge.
Be like Icarus.

Enjoying the Process...

So often many of us are so fixated on a goal, on a certain outcome, on a destination- myself included.

One of my dad's many masterpieces, now residing at my place!

Being in the presence of a master ceramicist (my dad) and working with clay was a gentle reminder to enjoy the process.  I started out by making pinch bowls, just to get a feel for the clay.  It felt so freeing to work with my hands; to use my thumbs and transform a glob of clay into a bowl by starting from the center and working my way out.

The pinchbowls I made (left); my cup I made on the wheel (right).

My second bowl was ironically more difficult to make.  The walls became thin and as I tried to 'fix' it, it seemed to become increasingly more uneven.  At one point I became frustrated.  I was tempted to ball the entire thing up into a glob again and start over, but then decided to stop being so attached to making a perfect bowl.  I ended up folding some of the walls in and it suddenly became a star bowl. 

Working the wheel was a different story.  It took me awhile to get a feel for the clay, to learn how much pressure to exert, how much water to add to make it pliable, and how to fold my hands and cup the clay in order to center it and form it.

Working the wheel...

I asked my dad what the most common mistake he saw in people when they worked the wheel.  He answer resonated deeply with me.  "They rush the process.  They try to get from A to Z in 30 seconds.  It's not going to happen that way."

The beauty of ceramics is that you may have in mind what type of piece you will create, but it may change as you work with the clay.  It is a continual process of reworking the same piece of clay until you achieve your final product.  Similarly in sport, just as clay is constantly being reshaped and reformed, training plans sometimes must be modified.  There is no one perfect training plan because adjustments always have to be made...what if you feel more fatigued than usual?  Have life-stressors that affect your training?  Are dealing with injuries?

Modification #1: Water running for now...

Growing up, my dad's ceramics were everywhere in our house.  They graced the tables at church during potlucks, and decorated the houses of friends and family.   It was apparent that as a ceramicist, once you are done with a piece, you still continue to create more, as your work is a snapshot of your expression and manifestation of who you are.

Pieces drying and ready to be fired soon...all part of the process...

Dad found an old bowl I had made from (10+??) years ago!
Now it's going to be fired and glazed with the others.

In sport, oftentimes athletes get so caught up in a goal or "A" race.  But after they cross that finish line, then what?  If it was all about crossing the Ironman finish line for me, I would have hung up the bike and wetsuit after Nov. 2011.  I am learning that like a ceramicist, it is not about that one piece of pottery that I create, I just enjoy the process and the journey of becoming a more refined master of my trade, and making adjustments where needed as I learn more about myself, my pre-conceived limits (and how to surpass them), and how much more there is to go.  

Learning tactical group riding skills.
And how being the only girl isn't an excuse to slack off.

I have so enjoyed this triathlon journey through the years but also have to remind myself to be patient as I gain more skills, technique and mental confidence.  Be fully present.  And don't rush the process.  Just like dad said (funny how he is usually right).

Pay It Forward (#13: Be a Volunteer for Once at a Running/Tri Event. Pass Out Water Cups. Cheer Loudly.)

"Thank you for being here."

These five words make such a difference.  It's funny, because these are the exact same words I would tell the volunteers as I would run by the aid stations, grabbing water or pretzels and then continuing on my merry way.

I'll be completely honest, I had no idea what PIC and I were in for.  I was thinking, sure, arrive at 5:30am, head to the designated aid station area, set up and cheer!  

It was freezing cold this morning, drizzling, muddy, and dark.  The Brazen Running race directors were so incredibly organized with all the details, even down to the amounts of water gallons going to each aid station.  We had to load everything into the cars- trunkfuls of water, cardboard garbage cans, signs, tables, plastic bins of snacks, then drive to the area, unload everything and set up before the runners arrived.

Did I mention it was cold?

I was manning the snack station.  There's something awesome about being a registered dietitian and organizing rows of Mike and Ike's, M&Ms, potato chips, and cutting up PayDay candy bars.  This year, the bibs had the runner's first name printed, so I could cheer by name.  I remember at Florida Ironman as I was struggling during the marathon.  Hearing random bystanders scream, "Looking strong, Julianne!" was such a motivator.  I mean, I was clearly not 'looking strong,' but hearing my name really perked me up.  So I had fun staring at bibs and cheering personally for the runners.

PIC and me, working our 'corner'

We later realized the dixie cups were meant for the snacks, not water. Didn't get that memo.

It was definitely an eye-opening experience to be on the other side of the race.  There is so much work that occurs behind-the-scenes in order to create a smooth-running event.  Oftentimes the participants are never aware of it, myself included.  I now have a deeper respect and appreciation for all race directors out there...thank you for all your work to keep us athletes safe, well-hydrated, well-fueled, and on the right race course!

After a good lunch and a solid nap, I had an urge to swim, and swim long.  A common epic workout is the New Year's Day 100x100 swim set.  It's awesome if you have 3 hours to burn on New Year's Day, but I had 3 hours to burn today.  I was really inspired.  You have to be incredibly inspired to pull this off, so I just went with it and packed some extra treats to keep me going that long.  

Since I couldn't run a 10K today, I decided I would swim a 10K.

I had just completed 4,000 yards when this guy in the next lane started profusely apologizing to me.  Apparently, he almost dove on top of me because he didn't see me (it was around dusk.)  I had no idea; I was just doing my set.  I finagled him into joining me for my next 10x100s.  Company is always better.  After that set, he threatened me, saying I'd put him in the ER if he kept swimming at that pace, and he was getting out. 

I continued the rest on my own.  It was so hard to focus at the end.  The fatigue from the early morning was starting to set in.  But I finished, and the beautiful full moon was shimmering in the night sky over the pool.  Sights like these are forever etched in my mind.  Epic swims are rewarded with epic sights.  It's only fair, I suppose.

Solid swims= solid recovery nutrition.

They always say, "Thank the volunteers."  Now I can say that yes, it makes a difference to hear those 5 words...they are so appreciated by everyone, and it makes the numb fingers/toes, early wake-up call and manual labor totally worth it.   To all my blog readers, I will say this to you, "Thank you for being here." 

#22: Make A Vision Board.

I'm sure most of you remember a few years ago when The Secret became so popular that it wasn't really a 'secret' anymore.  This was based on the law of attraction, which is said to work by attracting into a person's life the experiences, situations, events and people that 'match the frequency' of the person's thoughts and feelings.  What you think about becomes your reality, whether positive or negative.

I know when I'm sweating on the trainer and want to call it quits, most of those thoughts can quickly turn negative.  Knowing I'm a visual learner already, I wanted to create a vision board to focus on while I was on the bike trainer.  Mental cues and catch phrases have always worked well for me in the past.  With Ironman Lake Tahoe being my second Ironman, things this time around are much different and I want more than anything to mentally enter this Ironman stronger than before.  I want to be focused, strategic, and have my race be successfully visualized beforehand.

Making this was fun.  I've always loved arts and crafts as a kid and have felt like the right-brained side of myself has been stifled ever since college when the majority of my work was predominantly left-brained.  I had magazines open and cut out whatever images or phrases spoke to my heart.

Last week's retreat made me realize the importance of meditation and mindfulness in both sport and in life.

Can't get much clearer than that!

Nutrition is always part of the equation.  And this year I want to be able to handle any situation.
Especially if it involves flat tires.

My vision board this time around was strictly triathlon-based, but you can expand them to include all areas of your life.  What you believe, you can achieve.  The beauty of the vision board is that you are seeing your final product, your destination, your goal, and all you do is focus on that.  Don't worry so much about how you will get there.  Those details will work themselves out in due time.  The beauty is that you can allow your creativity and your spirit guide you as you merely piece together things that inspire you. 

I had the pleasure of meeting an incredibly special person a few weeks ago.  She is also preparing and doing her own Ironman, although not in the form of swimbikerun.  She has decided she is ready and willing to make small and doable changes in her life to regain back her health, and ultimately her life.  She is also working on her vision board.  Our journeys are very similar.  We will both learn the value of how our daily choices affect our long-term goals.  We will both have setbacks.  We will both pick ourselves up and keep moving forward, knowing we have a team of supporters on the sidelines and at the finish line for us.

If you're reading this, M, I'm so proud of you.  Not only am I excited to see your vision board, but also to witness and experience the inspiration in your life story.  Because vision boards aren't just for dreaming, they are meant for action.  

Sunday Runday (and then some)

What a day. The excitement started last night at 8pm when I gained a last-minute race sherpa. The conversation went something like this:
Sherpa: So, do you want me to come watch you run tomorrow?
Me: Uhh, I guess so.  If you want.  It's not gonna be anything spectacular.  Up to you. It's not like I'm going for a podium finish with the way I run. (I know, I'm so good at selling myself, aren't I?)
Sherpa: I'd love to be there.  What time do you start?
Me: It starts at 7am, but I want to be there at 6:20ish so I can stand in the porta-potty line like 5x.
Sherpa: I'll pick you up at 6:15.


Sweeeet!  It helps so much logistically to have someone else worry about parking and holding keys and purses and jackets.  So that eliminated some pre-race nerves.  It's been so long since I've done a stand-alone running event without swimming/biking beforehand. So this meant that I wouldn't be able to blame my slow running on "loaded up legs after a crazy bike ride" or some BS like that.

Ready to get the party started!

I secretly wanted to break 2 hours.  The fastest I had run 13.1 miles before today was 2:02:49, and that was in 2010.  For some reason, I was visualizing 1:58:59.  I even wrote it down. (shhh! Oprah and the chick from The Secret would be proud!)


Today was my also my 'experiment' day.  I ran with my new ipod Shuffle (no armband=heaven), and I strategically set my Garmin screen to show distance and speed and NOT heartrate.  I'm so used to gauging my pace by my heartrate and I wanted to see if there really is something fantastic about not knowing, and going by "feel."  I mean, Chrissie Wellington never wears a heartrate monitor, so maybe she's on to something?
I also ditched my fuelbelt to see if I could stand carrying a flask in my hand as my 'safety blanket' between aid stations (they only had them every 2-2.5 miles along the course).

Yes, that is duct tape. And yes, I am aware that I need a manicure.

When things got hard, I thought of my Grandma and all the hard things she's probably experienced in her 105 years of life.  I told myself, "C'mon, if Grandma endured the internment, giving birth to tons of kids and raising them all, well, then you can at least run hard for __ amount of minutes."  I basically played this mind game with myself for the last 2/3 of the run, subtracting the minutes from 1:58.  Which was also distracting because I suck at math. 

Grandma blowing out her candles yesterday.

Between dodging runners in the beginning, I picked up a 'friend' around mile 7-9.  We didn't say a word to each other during the race (he found me at the end of the race to chat), but it was like a mutual understanding and respect as we ran stride-for-stride and side-by-side.  I slowed up for a bit just to make sure I wasn't invading his space, and when he slowed up too, I knew that we were going to be pacing buds.  All I was seeing on my watch were 8:57 splits when I was so used to seeing 10-min mile splits in training, so I was curious how long I could hold the pace for.  It reminded me of Macca and Raelert at the end of the Ironman World Championships in 2010 (except we weren't rivals), where they ran side-by-side, shared a sponge and shook hands before Macca went on to win the whole thing.  After the 9-mile aid station where I took water, he ran ahead.  I saw him look back at me, but I waved him on to keep going and not wait for me.  Sometimes there are people in your life who help you for a time, but in the end, everyone has to run his/her own race.

My "Macca" friend in the gray.  He came in 2 minutes before me.  So yeah, I was Raelert.

When I crossed the line and saw 1:58, I was stunned, and so happy!

Nothin' but smiles...and sweat.

They were also passing out these wipes, for gross girls like me.  

They were giving away one per person.  But the girl took one look at me and gave me two.
I kid you not.   Gross girl sweat = more freebies.  SCORE!

The wipes were perfect because I headed out afterwards with my sherpa for a 50 mile recovery bike ride.  It was meant to first be an out-and-back to Cull Canyon to see how my legs felt, but I was feeling so good that I talked him into doing the full Redwood Rd/Moraga/Danville loop.  I felt kind of bad because he was thinking we were going to do 20 miles and I roped him into doing more than double that distance.  (But I did say we could 'ride at his pace' to make it more manageable, and we could stop 'whenever.')  Isn't that a salesperson technique?  Foot-in-the-door? Or something like that?  


I made us take a mandatory rest stop at Tutti Frutti in Danville at around mile 40.  It was hot and I have been craving froyo like a mofo.  These self-serve yogurt places always get me a little nervous when they weigh your yogurt...it's like they just want to see what a McFatty you are.  But I thought it would be a little more classy than bringing bikes through the drive-thru of McDonald's and ordering a vanilla cone (yes, that thought did enter my mind).

This one's for YOU, Amber!  I'll show you this route one day.
And I'll treat you to Tutti Frutti too.

On our way back into town, I also spotted this sign...which is like a (good) riding omen since  I'll be riding for the first time with Amber next weekend!  I can't wait to catch up with this girl.  It's been literally YEARS.  In our elementary school play Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, I was Grumpy (hard to believe, eh?) and she was Dopey.  And now we are all grown up, and I am still Grumpy (sometimes) but she is like a buff and beautiful Snow White.  


So, all in all, a good Sunday.