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.

It's Like Riding A Bicycle...

Do you remember getting back on a bike after years of not riding?  It's true, you never forget how to ride.  It's like your body just remembers what to do, and everything feels natural.


It's kind of like long-lost friends...You know those friends who you haven't talked to in years, but when you see each other, it's like you picked up where you left off? 


Enter Wendy.  Back in college, we were waitresses together at The Noodle House in San Diego.  Aside from its novel and creative name, it was a small Japanese restaurant consisting of 12 tables and two waitresses.  I credit my stellar multi-tasking skills to this job.  Between the two of us, we had to welcome customers, take orders, deliver food, manually calculate the bill (and you all know how much I suck at math, sorry Kumon! What a waste!), run the register and clean up the dirty tables, all while looking cute and not dropping stuff.  

Wendy is even more gorgeous on the inside than she is on the outside.  And I should get a refund on my MAC primer powder because it obviously doesn't work!

I loved working with Wendy because she was super efficient, friendly 24/7 (I would secretly sigh when I saw a family with little babies come in...um, can your child possibly dump more rice on the floor before you leave? Because I think you missed a spot...), and she was cute to boot.  Hellloooo tips!


It's been YEARS since those yakisoba and nabeyaki udon days, but the stars aligned and we're miraculously both up in the Bay Area, which is such a treat.  And, (drumroll please...) after running around in our shorty shorts with black aprons and chopsticks, we're now going to be running around the trails together!  Hooray for new running partners!


And speaking of The Noodle House, one of our fellow waiters also happened to manage a bike team.  He gave me a loaner bike to use for my first sprint triathlon.  I didn't even know how to shift gears, so I did the entire race in the same gear.  During slow days at the restaurant, he would draw on napkins and show me the formation for drafting off a wheel when the wind is coming from the left or coming from the right.  This was only the beginning.


I emailed him today to tell him THANK YOU.  Little did he know that he planted that seed and provided me with the tools to get started in triathlon.  Hopefully this summer, Wendy and I will get to see him in San Diego and I'll get to thank him in person.


Funny story...this waiter also miraculously pulled some strings so Wendy and I could ride track bikes at the Velodrome in San Diego.  I remember arriving early so we could "practice" with the fixed gear bikes and getting used to not braking. Holy sh*t.  Now I realize what a risk he took with us!  Luckily, we didn't take any guys out or crash ourselves.


I think there are so many individuals in our lives who have shaped us or planted seeds, and they don't ever realize the incredible positive effect they had on us.  Reconnecting with Paul, the waiter, was a blessing, because he really had no idea what a huge role he played in my life by just providing me with that blue bicycle, and the joy that I've experienced from riding on two wheels.

Ghetto No Mo'

Last November, I moved out of the ghetto and into a safer neighborhood.  I can actually run outside without constantly looking over my shoulder worrying that I'm going to get mugged.  There are people on the streets and the trails actually exercising, not doing drug deals.  


Recently, I started hating my fuel belt and wanted to run with as little "bulk" as possible.  
I was even getting annoyed with my ipod armband, so I began ditching the entire velcro armband (which helps eliminate one more weird tan line on my body) and just started stuffing the entire ipod into my sports bra.  And the gels that used to be in that fuelbelt during my long runs?  Yes, they went in there too.  So ghetto.  I'm sure fellow runners wanted to adopt me in my compression sleeves and give me a complete running fashion makeover.

Ghetto girl- yes, I am aware that they make armbands to hold nanos.

Turns out Lululemon had the same idea, except in a much more fashionably appropriate way.

Lululemon's Stuff Your Bra Tank (yes, that's the actual name of the sports bra)

But sometimes, even ghetto girls need upgrades.  So that's exactly what I did, and am much happier with the ipod shuffle setup.  

New-and-improved and much less ghetto setup

Now about those compression sleeves...

Triple.

No, not triple sec.  Or a triple ice cream cone (although a day like today calls for one). The triathlon training day triple.


According to the training schedule, my first Saturday "triple" was to start next week.  But next Saturday was out of the question, since well, it's not everyday that Grandma turns 105 years old!  So I moved the triple to this Saturday, the hottest day of the year.  Perfect training weather for Vineman, since heat is my frenemy.

Excited to start the first of the 'triple'

Rather than doing the swim last and using it for recovery (which is an option according to the schedule), I decided to put it first, which better mimics the true order of swimbikerun.  I also knew that it would be much less crowded in the morning and the saline water would be cleaner and clearer (it tends to get cloudy and salty with more swimmers...I know, gross, don't think about it too much...)


I'm so used to swimming after work when my body is fatigued from the day, so this morning I was Freddy Fresh Arms and really had to hold myself back from going too fast out of the gate.  It's always an energy equation..."How much can I expend on this (swim) or (bike) and still have enough energy for the run?"  Which makes me SUPER excited for my open water swim race in June and the ClifBar Team Challenge Relay in September where I can just go 110% on the swim and not have to worry about 'saving' energy for later.


After my swim, I hopped on my bike and headed out towards Castro Valley.  I was seeking some adventure and wanted to do a different loop through Moraga/Danville, instead of doing my normal out-and-back ride.  I was semi-crunched for time so I gave myself a maximum of around 3.5 hours to ride, get lost, change flats, etc...


I had done this 50-mile loop once before, but unfortunately, I was just paying attention to the wheel in front of me and not noticing the street names/turns, especially past St. Mary's College.  The last time was spent with two other Chatty Cathys....no one was paying attention, we were all just enjoying our conversation and being in the saddle.

My fellow Chatty Cathys 

It's like the cycling gods were watching out for me today, because where I thought the "turn" street looked semi-familiar, my goodness, there were pink arrows!!  Ha! I have no idea what ride those arrows were for, but they miraculously directed me back into Danville.  At stop signs where I wasn't sure which way to go, I looked in the direction of the pink arrow, and sure enough, that street looked familiar.  

What the heck does "CC" stand for?  Chatty Cathys? Clueless Cyclist?

Those arrows directed me back into town, but at one point, they pointed to the left, and I was 100% certain that our ride had directed us to the right.  So I followed my gut, and it was right. Lesson:  There are arrows in life that may help direct us, but in the end, TRUST YOUR GUT!

Hard to see, but this young fellow is advertising for a car wash.  In a speedo.  From across the street, this boy told me I had a nice bum.   As a former lifeguard, I advised him to put on more sunscreen!

I finished those 50 miles and made it home with no time to spare...I had a tempo run date!  It was perfectly timed, and hot! 

T-run date with Mo

Mo saves lives all day in the ICU but is afraid that she'll get eaten by coyotes or mountain lions at Lake Chabot.  I promised to save her life during these "wilderness runs."  Too bad I don't know whether to "get big" or freeze or run if I see a mountain lion.  (shhhh!  Don't tell her that I never was a Girlscout! I only eat their cookies!)


She was a trooper despite the heat, and we incorporated some intervals to help increase her strength.  She put up with my Jillian Michael's-esque encouragement and didn't shove me off the side of the trail, so I'll chalk that up as success.


After running with Mo, I continued solo up the right hand of the lake.  It was still hot, but overall I felt surprisingly good.  Near the end, a fit-looking guy passed me.  A voice inside me said, "Go with him."  I used him as my pacer for the last 2 miles.  I tried to stay behind him enough to the point where I wasn't annoying him, but kept him close enough to pace with.  And then, right as I was finding my groove, he stopped. 


Normally, I would keep my mouth shut and continue running.  But after almost 5.5 hours of training, I was semi-delirious, and I ran up beside him and said, "You CAN'T stop now!  You're my pacer! Let's bring this home together!"  He laughed and said he had a feeling that I was using him to pace.  We pushed each other for the remaining miles and I found out that he did adventure racing/crossfit/Tough Mudder and was taking advantage of this heat to train hard.  We both ended our runs knowing we had put some solid money in the bank today.  On the way home, all I could think about was this...

It's not even really watermelon season yet, but I don't care!  This still hits the spot after a hot training day like today!

And speaking of food and recovery nutrition, I'm so excited this arrived on my doorstep a few days ago...

I've read a lot about The Feed Zone Cookbook and can't wait to try these recipes, and especially the "portables" (Allen's famous rice cakes) that gained popularity during the Tour de France.  I've been experimenting more to see how my stomach tolerates solid food on the bike.  I'm slowly incorporating nutrition in its natural form and trying to utilize more 'real food' instead of the gels/shot blocks.  These recipes will allow me to do just that!  I'll keep you posted, and if you're in the area, let me know if you want to sample the infamous Allen's rice cake for your next ride...

I See the Light...

I suppose everyone encounters "speedbumps" in life and in training.  These past few weeks I felt like I was circling an apartment complex with speedbumps placed strategically every 10 feet.  Physically, I had some setbacks.  Technically, I dealt with a schizophrenic cat-eye wireless cycling computer, a HR monitor that wouldn't sense a HR (even with a hard reset and new batteries), and a dead iPod at the start of a long run, all within a week's time. But, as I remember asking my coach during the cycling component of the Ironman, "Is the nano working?!?" and he replied, "Are YOU working?" the message hit home.  I'm not dead. Or schizophrenic (I think).  And I'm still working.

There have been dark shadows I've had to deal with lately.

But everyone knows that from the shadows, light emerges!  This is the sunrise this morning as I drove to Gilroy.

I celebrated 4/14 by setting my alarm for 4:14am.  No, really.  I was so excited to ride Tierra Bella with Kimi.  Yesterday, I was vacillating back and forth- do I want to ride 100 miles alone for training?  It's not everyday that I can have a fully supported ride for 100 miles... or do I want to catch up with friends for 62 miles? Friends or training miles? Solitude or social life? Lonersville or 62 happy miles? (You can see where this was heading...)


So I was thrilled when my friend Kimi agreed to do the 100 miles with me.  It was the best of both worlds.

Riding besties, pre-ride

Kimi and I are such similar riders, mentally and physically.  I give her a "look" and she knows that I'm going to jump ahead and pass the riders we happen to get caught behind.  When we ride side-by-side, we match in speed and cadence.  It's so awesome to have a riding buddy who can challenge me physically, but who can also girl-talk and gossip.  Like I said before, it's the best of both worlds- training and socializing.

We kept ticking the miles off.  Time flies when you're having fun!

The gorgeous scenery helped to pass the time. No rain!!





Yesterday, Coach told me, "There is no progress without struggle.  Remember Macca's famous words...'If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.'"  This was so timely.  Ironman training is hard.  LIfe is hard.  Sometimes through the strugges, we forget that we are progressing and growing.



I first met Kimi on a 40 mile training ride for the Cinderella Classic a few years ago.  From then, we've ridden four metric centuries, and now two full century rides together.  We've definitely struggled.  I know when she's suffering, and she knows exactly when I'm suffering.  But no matter what, we finish together, always smiling.  Since most of Ironman training has been done solo due to my work schedule, it is such a treat when I'm able to combine solid training and solid socializing.  I feel like I am finally emerging from the shadows of negativity and periods of being unmotivated, and moving into the light.  This is good timing, since the "12-week competitive season" begins in exactly one week.  Giddyup!

But first we need to elevate these legs on the wall for a bit!

Quick and Dirty Suit Review

Life has been busy, so I'll keep this post consistent with how most of my runs have been- quick and dirty. I spend a lot of time in the pool, so this means going through a lot of swimsuits, Aussie 3-minute Miracle Deep Conditioner bottles, swimcaps, defogger, and goggles.  It amazes me at times how much work it takes in the pool to improve and shave a mere 5 seconds off of a base 100, but in the end, well, everyone knows that it's worth it.


So, the suit review.  I normally buy all my swimsuits at swimoutlet.com, which always carries the name brands at cheap prices.  I've consistently worn TYR and Speedo, just because of the butterfly backstraps.  You know, a girl's got to keep her tan lines consistent, right?  Each of these suits range normally around $75, so imagine my surprise when I saw a similar design (Sporti) for $25.  Score!  I ordered a Sporti suit and a Speedo Endurance suit in my usual size.  

Speedo Endurance suit on the left, waste-of-money Sporti suit on right

I first tested out the Speedo Endurance suit.  They advertise this as lasting longer, and I think they mean it will last longer because it takes at least 5 swims to stretch it out to a normal size so you are always reluctant to wear it in the pool.  The straps were so tight on my arms it felt like I was swimming with a wetsuit on because my shoulders felt so restricted.  Mind you, these were ordered in my normal size...so if you go with this suit, know that it runs small but is made with good material and hopefully will last you for a few months.


My second test run was with the Sporti swimsuit.  I was excited because of the cute hot pink color...like, "Hey! Look at me swim fast in my hot pink suit!"  It fit a lot more comfortably on land, but once you hit that water, my first thought was, "This would make a great drag suit!"  Except, this isn't high school anymore where you wear two suits (the suit on top is a 'drag' suit, normally a worn-out, stretched out number that acts as a parachute while you swim).  It was so thin, painfully thin, and already felt stretchy.  No bueno.


During my debut of this Sporti suit, I happened to be swimming next to a Chris Lieto look-alike.  No joke.  He was serious swimming business.  We both were even dorky and had our workouts typed up in little Ziploc bags with our water bottles next to each other on deck.  In between sets, he joked around and made conversation with me, but this Sporti suit made me feel so self-conscious, like I was naked!  So I blame my lack of conversation skills on the Sporti suit.  So, horrible reviews all around for this suit.  I'd rather spend $50 more on a better suit, and in turn, a better impression with Chris Lieto-look-alike.


On a more positive note, these are my tried-and-true goggles.  I've been swimming and racing in these goggles for almost 15 years and have never found a better pair.  5 stars all around...

Speedo Women's Vanquisher Goggles

So there you have it, folks.  My version of "What Not to Wear," swimming-style.  Spend those precious pennies on quality Speedo suits and goggles, not cheapo Sporti swimwear suits, unless you plan on sunbathing on the pool deck, watching Chris Lieto look-alikes tear it up in the water where you really want to be.

Remember the Wonder

Enjoying the gorgeous view of Skyline after climbing Pinehurst

    
    Last Sunday afternoon, I was cresting the top of Redwood Road on my bike when I spotted 2 bikes laying on the side of the road.  I could see one figure sitting down and one hovering over him.
    Immediately, my heart began to race.  My legs were thoroughly trashed from the mileage I had already ridden that day, and I had only 2 Clif Shotblocks left and was running low on water.  I calculated how long it would take me to descend into an area with decent cellphone reception to call 911.
    From a distance, I heard a voice-
    "Um, excuse me, Miss?"
    "Yes! How can I help?  Are you guys ok?  What do you need?" I shouted as I climbed towards them.  I quickly crossed over to the other side of the road, only to be met with young faces, dressed in cotton t-shirts and shorts, perfectly unharmed.
    "Oh yeah.  We're fine.  I was wondering if you could please take a picture of me and my friend." 
    Phew! Everyone was ok.
    "How old are you guys?" I inquired once my heartrate returned to normal.
    "We're 14 years old.  We rode all the way from Orinda.  So far, we've ridden 25 miles!"  The boy couldn't have shown me a prouder grin.  "We're heading to a bike shop in Castro Valley.  It's our longest ride yet!  Oh, and can you make sure you get the lake in the background when you take the picture?  Thanks."


    After I had snapped their picture, we chatted for a bit.  I applauded them on their mileage and they shared how they were interested in road biking and cyclocross. 
    "How much does your bike weigh?  What size tires are those?" they asked inquisitively.  I laughed to myself, as I could only imagine them later on in life, like the stereotypical cyclists who starred in those YouTube videos of "Sh*t Cyclists Say."


    It was endearing, to say the least, to see these two young boys adventurously making their way to new places via bicycles, and capturing it all on camera.  I recognized in them the initial excitement and wonder I once had felt the first time I experienced the world from a bicycle.  


    How many times had I ridden past that same exact place and instead been focused on my leg turnover and cadence, making sure that I was in the correct heartrate zone, or trying my best not to get dropped by the other riders?  I wanted to take a picture of these two adorable boys, but felt that could be considered somewhat stalker-ish, so instead I savored the important lessons these young 14 year-olds taught me in our brief conversation....

• Once in awhile, take a break and enjoy the beauty of your surroundings.
• Stay inspired.
• Recognize how far you've come already while still courageously moving forward to the places you want to go.
• Enjoying the sunshine on your bike sure beats playing Xbox inside.
• Even if you've been riding your bike for years and have logged thousands of miles, always remember the wonder.