Things to consider...

When you dress the morning of your 5k race, there are some extremely important things to consider...

What will the weather be like during race time?

Do you need gloves and a hat or will a visor suffice?

Where are my favorite running socks?

Does the underwear that I'm about to put on have a tendency to fall down?

You see, I've primarily been focused on triathlons, and that had some very specific gear that makes you forget about everything else.

I have a wet suit, swim cap and goggles for the swim. My bike gloves, helmet and sunglasses for the bike. And tennis shoes and visor for the run.

All of it done in what are known as tri shorts and tri tops. They're made of quick wicking materials to help you dry off quickly when coming out of the water or when covered in yucky sweat. They have all the necessary undergarments built in so it's a no-brainer.

For some reason, sports bras seem like a no-brainer as well.

Underwear...well, not so much.

The Muddy Monster 5k was last Saturday.

I set off to the park about 9 am. It was the first clear day in almost a week of rain and I arrived in the first wave of traffic.

I found a parking spot, gathered my race number and my Nike+ iPod and was off to the starting line.

Not only had it been rainy all week, but it had been cold, and this morning was no different.

As I stretched out, I surveyed the other runners and familiar feelings began to settle over me.

What the hell was I doing here?

I am NOT a runner.

Technically, a triathlete, sure.

But not a runner.

I started thinking to myself how easy would it be to duck out. I hadn't seen anyone that I knew, so it would be a piece of cake to slink back to my car and drive away from the park and the hordes of runners with their .5% body fat.

But I forced myself to stay.

I wasn't doing this to compete with them.

I was doing this for myself.

I continued to stretch until it was time for the runners to take our marks. Okay, so to more accurately describe it, crowd into a starting pen like veal.

We set off and I quickly knew that I was in trouble.

I had put on a "comfy" pair of undies earlier that morning, completely forgetting that every time I throw them into the dirty laundry hamper, that I think to myself that I should really throw them out instead.

Sigh.

I tried to discreetly to tug them back up, knowing full well that the t-shirt and sweatshirt I had layered would cover me up in the event of disaster.

I did okay.

This run was called the Muddy Monster because it was a trail run, something that I had been looking forward to since I wasn't very well conditioned to run on concrete or even asphalt.

I held my own for the first two songs into my iPod. I could feel the freezing air that I was drawing into my lungs really start to affect my breathing. I hadn't really trained outside in the cold and I was conditioned for that either.

I ran/walked off and on, trying very hard to do more running than walking, until I hit the mile and a half marker. My right hip had tightened up, making running very, very uncomfortable. I decided that I wasn't going to push it since this was my season closer.

In the end, my time blew. I seriously overshot my goal.

I crossed the finish line, waited while a nice girl removed the timing chip from my shoe and then headed straight for the timing tent.

I got there so quickly that I had to wait a couple of minutes for the system to update with my race times. I didn't even look at it as I headed to the warmth of my car.

Disappointing?

Yes.

All in all though, it was a good first season I think.

I pushed boundaries, made new friends, beat some goals and fell short on others.

I learned that I can put my face in water and not worry about drowning. And now, not only do I know what a dérailleur is, but I know how to tune it myself.

I know and understand the importance of consistency.

That some days training will kick ass, and other days I'll feel like I should have stayed in bed.

I'll bounce back, I am elastic.

Just hope my underwear is too.

Why do I tri?

A sharpie is my war paint.

The airhorn is my battle cry.

I will take no prisoners.

Why do I tri?

It's a personal question. Some say it's for the competition, some for fitness, others say it's just for fun.

I tri for cancer.

It's how this started, and until it's wiped clean from this world, I will continue my war.

The race season is winding down, with only a 5k left on the horizon. It does not mean that my battle is over.

My first first-hand experience was losing my mother-in-law two years ago.

I dedicated the Pigman to her and raised over $1200 for cancer research in her memory.

It was two days after that race that I found out that my mom had begun her own battle.

My best friend.

The nerve to strike so close to home.

The audacity of cancer.

That's when I steeled my resolve to do this every year to raise money, wage my own private war.

My mom is doing well, I am happy to report, but my combat continues.

I'm taking a couple of weeks off from training, allowing for a recovery of sorts. But soon it will be back to the pool, to the track.

I'll be back in the saddle again.

I'll don my war paint.

Cancer will hear my battle cry.

Danksin wrap up and future goals

It's something that I'm bitten with. I can't explain it.

It was almost exactly a year ago that I decided to transform myself from a squishy couch potato into a triathlete. Now, I have a 5k and two tri's under my belt. A second 5k will be run in two weeks. Sure, why not? I began the season with a 5k, why not end it on the same note?

The Danksin was a couple of weeks ago and I have been remiss (or so my mom keeps reminding me) on not blogging about it.

The race results gave me mixed emotions.

I took on a new position at Yellowbook 5 weeks before the Danskin. So that meant two months before the race started, I began to spend longer hours at work trying to wrap up everything before I left my position in Human Resources. The house projects were in full force, and two wedding cake orders that had been put on the books before I signed up were coming due.

My time to train had become extremely limited.

My goal time was 2:10, 14 minutes less than the Pigman.

One again, I came in over that goal; this time at 2:17.

Overall, I had longer transition times on race day (I still blame that on the fact that the physical transition area was also twice the size at the Pigman), as well as a much slower pace on the bike leg despite what I felt was an easier course.

I was seriously disappointed in my time.

I dwelt on this over a post lunch race with my husband, parents, Andrea and her husband.

I had started going to spinning and had learned how to more efficiently use my legs. I was a stronger swimmer than I was even back in June.

Running..well...what was there to say about running?

I set out on the run. My calves and other muscles (whose names I regretfully don't know) protested greatly. I jogged out of transition and past my cheering group of well wishers (stopping to kiss my mom and dad as I passed). But soon I gave in to the protests and slowed to a walk.

My internal monitor protested, knowing that I was losing time and was going to come up short of my goal.

Okay, I'll run to the sign, I told myself.

And then on to that next bush.

When I get to that shady spot, I can walk.

I did that, mentally bribing myself to start running, trying desperately to keep myself to the goal of running it all.

It didn't work.

I ran, I walked, I ran some more, pushing myself harder and harder.

At one point, just before the water station at 1.2 miles, I had started to walk again.

Another runner came up behind me and put her arm around my shoulder.

"Come on. Let's run," she said.

And so we did.

We chatted a bit. She was from the Chicago area and this certainly wasn't her first tri. She was surprised at how far I had driven to compete in the race. And sadly, I don't remember her name.

I kept up with her for another half mile or so, past the water station, where she taught me to hold up two fingers and get two cups of water. (Simple, I know.)

I walked for a couple of minutes and picked up the mental push again.

Just to the tree.

Just to that sign.

To the next post, the crack in the pavement....

....hmmmm.....I lost myself.

Quit literally.

I got so lost in thought after a push that I had forgotten to give myself a new goal and I just kept running.

I didn't even notice.

That, I believe, was the highlight of the event for me.

(Well, I immensely enjoyed backstroking almost the entire swim because the gorgeous blue sky was spattered with gauzy clouds that looked like elephants, dinosaurs and even a phoenix.)

Nevertheless, I completely lost myself in something that a year ago I never thought I could possibly enjoy.

I came to this realization the next morning when I came in to work and decided to compare my race numbers against the Pigman.

Though (in my opinion) I had thoroughly bombed the transitions and the biking, I took 8 seconds off of my 100 yard swim pace and 47 seconds off my mile run pace. 6 minutes and 35 seconds less overall.

I would have taken even more off of my run except that I haven't figured out how to get through the race without needing to use the port-a-potty. Maybe next season.

I knew in June that I had become addicted to triathlons.

The Danskin just completely sealed that for me.

I announced a new goal to family and friends the Monday after the race: Olympic distance by 2015.

Okay, so in my opinion, now that I know what Olympic distance* is, 2015 seems so far away.

I'm upping that to 2012 at the latest.

I started this craziness thinking I'll do a tri, but just a sprint. Anything more is crazy. People who do Ironmans (120.6 miles total) are insane.

I don't think I'll ever get that far, but I've seriously begun to consider a Half-Ironman.

70.3 sounds like a nice round number to shoot for.

*Approximately twice a sprint distance = .9 mile swim, 25 mile bike, 6.2 mile run.

Spinning - yeah, right

Yeah, I know. I've talked about taking a spinning class for about five months now. I had good intentions, but I'll be honest, I was completely freaked out by the prospect.

A friend recently described spinning as "one of (her) favorite punishments" and noted that it can burn approximately 500 calories per half hour.

Determined to build up more strength for the bike event, I added a spinning class one night a week into my training schedule. It was time to conquer my fear.

Let me just say that it was everything that I had heard it would be.

We were about 15 minutes late to the start of class, but the instructor nicely hopped off her bike and got Andrea and myself set up on ours and then proceeded to "punish" us for being late.

She had us crank up the tension, climb out our saddles and run on the pedals for the entire length of a song. I don't remember the song, but I remember that it was annoyingly upbeat and seemed to go on forever.

And I don't know if I have ever worked out so hard before that I wanted to throw up. But those first ten minutes certainly made me want to. After the initial shock wore off, I actually started to enjoy it. Minus the fact that I was sweating buckets and I managed to empty my water bottle with 15 minutes still left in the class.

What I liked about it was the fact that, for the most part, the brutality usually changed about every 15 to 30 seconds (with the exception of the first long climb). I didn't have to count laps or the number of run intervals, watch the clock to know when to run.

The instructor took care of that for us, yelling at us to "go, go, go!" or "pick up the pace!" She would pleasantly remind us that we were not in rest period. She would give us a rest period in approximately X minutes, which always equaled the end of the class.

It was another challenge. Another fear conquered.

I'll be back at next week's class.

FAQs

Can I leave a note on your blog in response to one of your postings?

Certainly!! Your notes are my motivational dinner!

How do I leave a comment?

At the bottom of each entry there's a little spot that reads "x Comments." If it says "0 Comments," click on it and be the first to respond. If there's a number instead of a zero, clicking on it will allow you to read the comments already posted as well as allow you to make your own.

Are you still taking donations for the American Cancer Society?

Yes! As long as they don't close down my donation site, I'll still collect! Look here for information on future fundraisers as well.

Can anyone really do a triathlon?

Yes and no. Yes, anyone who is willing to put in the time, sweat and occasional tears can certainly do it. However, not everyone is willing to dedicate so much time in their lives. I Tri'd and loved it. You can too.

Back in the saddle again...

So the 12 week count down started on Monday for the Danskin Triathlon. I have a partner in crime this time around: I've convinced my friend Andrea that she too wants to join in the insanity. We will both plunge into the waters of Lake Andrea in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin, on Sunday, September 27th.

I used the fact that the she shared the name of the lake in which we would race as a sign that she must join me on this journey. Well, that and some strong "Pete drink" plied during the post-Pigman celebration party.

This past week has been light on the training, a couple of swims to get reacquainted with the feel of the water and a bike and run later on today.

Boy, oh boy, how I had missed the pool! There is nothing like the feel of coolness against your hot cheeks as you glide through the water.

Not having done in swimming since the tri a month ago, I found that I have more confidence now, knowing that I can do a 550 without stopping, knowing that if I dropped my feet, I wouldn't be able to find solid ground for at least another forty feet, without panicking at any point.

This past week has primarily been focused on coming up with a good solid plan for the next eleven weeks. I feel that this was something that I was truly lacking last time around. Obviously it wasn't necessary for successful completion last time.

But this is not last time. Those goals have been met; new ones need to be set.

The swim is longer, 800 yards instead of 550. I am unfazed by that now. The bike is shorter, 12 miles instead of 15.5, and the run is the same. At the rate I completed the last events, my finish time for the Danskin should be 2 hours, 16 minutes. I find that to be wholly unacceptable.

I think the biggest goal that I'm setting for myself (now that it's beyond not drowning & simply finishing), is to run the entire run. Even at a slow 11 minute mile, I may be able to shave 16 minutes off my finish time.

Too accomplish all of this, I dedicated about 70 million hours this past week coming up with a training plan that included three swims, three runs and two bikes a week, along with the eventual addition of strength training. Sure, sure, I could have signed up for an online plan for about $29.99, but I am cheap. And besides, I previewed many and none of them really made any sense to me. They talked in technical terms like VO2max and RPEs and heart rate zones. Yes, I'm positive that this information is beneficial, but unless someone is going to give me a lesson in athletic geek talk, I really don't want to be bothered with it right now: I have training to do.

Crossing the Finish Line

Rallying the troops

I pissed you off.
You saw me coming;
I wasn't fast enough
to take you by surprise.

Now you've reared your head,
hit below the belt,
made the fight
more personal
than it already was.

You won't stop me.
You won't win.
I'll run faster,
bike harder,
glide farther through the water.

That was just
my first swing.
I was just
warming up.

I'm regrouping,
rallying the troops.
And this time I'll stomp harder
when I cross that finish line.

Move on.

Don't bother.

Your cause is a lost one.

You won't win.

Goals realized and future challenges

So it was event weekend. The one that I had been training for these past seven months.

The weather forecast was less than stellar with rain looming all weekend and thunderstorms on the horizon for Sunday morning.

Packet pick up began on Saturday afternoon and we headed up so I could get my assignment. I made my way through the hotel to the conference room, signed the waiver releasing my family from the right to sue everyone and their brother should I die during the event, and got in line to pick up my number. I reached into my purse for my wallet so I could have my photo ID ready.

Oops.

My wallet was sitting on the kitchen counter.

So we headed back home and I quickly made the trip back up by myself.

This was not a good start to the weekend.

I had my nerves last week, so race weekend left me mostly calm, just ready to get on with the event.

We had a nice dinner out to celebrate my mom's birthday at Vino's on 1st Avenue and then headed home for an early night in.

The thunderstorms moved in as promised, interrupting my restless sleep.

The alarm on my watch went off at 4:45 and I rolled over to turn off the bedside alarm.

Only I couldn't.

The power had been knocked out by the storms.

Oh, this was not good.

I had packed my transition bag with all of my gear the night before, so that was no big deal. The bike had a final tuning Saturday afternoon, so it was good to go.

Fortunately my mom had already been up and had water in the tea kettle for her morning tea and power had only been out for about 20 minutes before we had gotten up. I was able to make some lukewarm oatmeal for my pre-race breakfast.

My husband and I set out 15 minutes ahead of schedule to the race site, with my dad, mom and father-in-law about half an hour behind us.

The storms moved out, leaving a heavily overcast sky in its wake.

As I pushed my bike to the body marking area, I ran into my swim coach and quickly arranged to meet on the beach for a warm up once my transition area was arranged.

I went through the line to have my race number, 85, written on both arms, both legs and my division marker on my right calf. I picked up my timing chip and headed into transition to layout my gear.

I found a spot on the last rack for my division, a great spot in my opinion, as they were color coded. All I need to remember was that I was at the last orange rack on the right instead of having to count out my spot.

I pulled on my wet suit, secured my timing chip on my ankle and headed for the beach. I ran into my mom on the way down, amazing considering the crowds of people that were starting to converge on the race site, and gave her a quick hug.

The water temperatures were forecasted to be 67 degrees at packet pick up. I swear that the fresh rain from the storms the night before dropped it another 10 degrees. It was almost painful as I stepped deeper and deeper into the lake.

I met up with my coach and another swim partner and we did a short warm up before we swam out to the actual rope that designated the route. It wasn't as far as I thought it would be. I got my visual for the return, and briefly examined the route up to transition. I was as ready as I was going to be.

I found the rest of the "Team Kristie" cheering gallery and chatted until it all the participants were called to the water's edge for the pre-race meeting and line up.

The elite women went into the water first, followed nine minutes later by the elite men and teams. Four minutes later it was my turn. My heart pounded for a few moments as the first few white capped racers from my division started to go in. I took a deep breath and let it go. There was no reason to be nervous. I trained for seven months for this. I was prepared.

I got to the timing mat, called out my race number for the proctor and waited for the signal to enter the water, and I was off.

Because of the new format there weren't massive numbers of people fighting for position. I was able to more or less swim the rope line, occasionally getting slightly off course as I back stroked. I came up to the big buoy at the end much more quickly than I thought I would.

All in all, the swim went well. I relied heavily on the backstroke, more out of comfort than anything else. It wasn't hard to flip back over to freestyle and spot from time to time. I made it to last buoy and found my feet.

Well, tried to find my feet.

My equilibrium was shot, and though I didn't fall, I felt almost drunk as I attempted to unzip my wetsuit while running through calf deep water. As soon as I thought I had my footing I hit dry sand and a hill.

This was the one time that I thought about quitting. This was the hardest part by far. I was a little winded and shaky from the swim. My legs burned from running through so many types of terrain in a short period.

But I passed my cheering family and friends (sorry if I short you all dirty looks. I swear I didn't mean to.) and made my way up the hill. As I hit the pavement of the transition area, I passed my swim coach who cheered for me loudly as I made my way through the transition chute.

As I sat in front of my bike to get shoes and socks on my husband appeared next the transition area to give me some encouragement. Between that and the few moments of reprieve that the sitting gave me, I felt re-energized.

I snapped the strap on my helmet, pulled my bike off the rack and ran/walked to the end of transition where I mounted my bike and took off.

It went fast. I took on the hills, conquering two of the three that had stopped me last time. I almost made it to the top of the last, but had to stop for a few seconds to cool the burning in my legs before continuing the route back into the park. The sight of the lake was welcome, telling me that I was in the final stretch of the bike leg, with only a mile and a half left of the 15.5 miles.

I was calm.

I was happy.

I was thrilled.

The toughest two pieces were coming to an end. There was no way I wouldn't finish.

I slowed as I approached transition and hopped off my bike. My right foot fought me as I tried to pull out of my toe straps, but I eventually won the struggle and went to rack my bike and drop my helmet.

As I made my way out of transition for the run I had a laugh out loud moment as a guy came running out of a row of bikes a head of me shirtless, in a kilt. As much I was enjoying myself, he was doing it even more.

Truth be told, I fast walked 75% of the run. My energy level was really starting to sag. I was okay with that. I was meeting my most important goals that I had set out.

People on the run leg cheered me on, calling out "Way to go 85," "Good job 85," "Keep it up 85" as they passed me.

I enjoyed being referred to by my number. It made me feel like I belonged.

I came in 657 of 666 participants, 239 out of 245 women, 26 out of 28 in my division.

Overall, my time was 2:24, 19 minutes over my goal time of 2:05 (again, arbitrarily arrived at by concluded that they sounded like nice, round numbers).

Goals that were met:

I completed my first triathlon.

I did not come in last (I was almost a half an hour in front of last place).

I beat my swim goal of 20 minutes by 3:07.

I beat my fund raising goal of $1000 buy bringing in $1285 to date for cancer research.

I have made new friends, strengthened old ones, and found new passions.

The person that I used to get an idea of time frames also competed in the tri again this year. She shaved over an hour off her time this year.

I think I'll do that next year.

I am a totally rockin' biker chick!

During our last long bike ride I came to the realization that some of my gears seemed to have gone missing. I called the local bike shop the next day to ask what the turn around time for a tune up would be and was told that it was running about a week.

Ugh!

I was totally unwilling to give my bike up for a week.

So today I met my swim coach at the beach in Palo, the actual starting point for the triathlon. It was a gorgeous day, but the water was still freezing.

We did an easy 200 yards in an attempt to acclimate ourselves to the water and the surroundings. Following the swim, it was time for pointers:

Objects best suited for sighting, general direction of the path to the transition area, a reminder to smile as I came out of the water as there would be official photographers waiting to snap my picture.

Joy!

One thing that had been missing from my life was a photo of me, purple faced, falling over as I struggle to regain my equilibrium while attempting to strip out of my wetsuit.

I skipped the ride that I had planned for after the swim and instead settled down with my computer, a beer, my husband's bike tool kit and my bicycle.

Thanks to the wonders of Google I read many articles that I did not understand. Articles that talked about the whozamawhatsits and the thinggamajigs and the cogs and the barrels.

I eventually found an article that included pictures of the whozamawhatsits and the thinggamajigs and the cogs, though I still had to guess at what the barrels were.

I determined that 6 gears were missing: the top two and bottom one from each of the front rings. I don't know how important some of those gears were, but I do know that it included my lowest gear. The one used for climbing hills.

That one was a little important in my opinion.

45 minutes, several greasy fingers and a bit of swearing later and I had not only a nicely tuned bicycle, but more mechanical knowledge of bicycles than my very handy husband.

I am a totally rockin' biker chick!

6 days, 10 hours....

Race Belts, Body Glide and Transitions... Oh my!!

T-Minus 10 days and counting.

I have seriously begun to lose sleep. I wake at 3 in the morning pondering the use of race belts, Body Glide anti-chafing sticks and how they could affect my transition times.

I woke last Saturday morning tired because I dreamt continuously the night before of swimming a consecutive 550 (which, I am happy to say I did despite the delirium).

Maybe it's because of the sleep deprivation that I have seriously done things that call into question my sanity.

Take last night for example:

I left work and drove down to Lake McBride for my first open water swim. This sounds innocuous enough. I was going to have to do it in eleven days anyway, so what's the big deal?

It was 58 degrees when I left work at 4 that afternoon.

And cloudy.

And windy.

And a little drizzly.

Oh sure, you say, you have a wetsuit. Isn't that the whole point?

Well, yes. So?

If you had asked me this time last year if I wanted to go to the lake I would have said sure. But you bet your boots that in my head I would have been in jeans, socks, tennis shoes, my favorite fuzzy pullover and my Corona ball cap. Not in a swimsuit, wetsuit and a swim cap.

It wasn't a fabulous work out. It wasn't bad either, all things considered. It made me truly understand the importance of a warm up. It taught me not to panic just because I can only see as far as my hands as they pull through my stroke. I learned to stop as if I'm treading water so when I put my feet down and can't touch, I don't go into girlie hysterics.

Hmmmm.....Maybe I won't drown after all.

I've also begun to think through the sleepless haze that a 14 mile bike ride really is no big deal. Where's the challenge in that? 14 miles doesn't even make my bottom sore anymore. (Yeah, I said it.)

Lake water (at least this lake water) tastes better than Y pool water. Not that I intentionally drink it, but well, it happens.

Swim training is tapering off now with only three sessions left on the books before the big day: my usual hour at the Y on Saturday, a 550 on the race course itself followed by a bike ride of the course, and a nice an easy swim a week from today.

It's all drawing to a close and I'm not sure how I feel about that. What am I going to do with my life?

Oh yeah.

Train for round two.

September 27.

The Danskin Tri in Chicagoland.

My First 5k Race

I completed my first 5k race yesterday morning.

I knew that it was going to be a good day when I picked up my race packet and was handed my bib number: 444.

I took it to be a lucky number, though part of me wondered if I shouldn't dress in yellow. As Yellow Cab was not my official sponsor, I decided that the feeling was unwarranted.

It was a little unnerving, arriving at the race location and seeing so many runners and their .5% body fat, stretching, flaunting their in-shapedness for all to see. Of the three events, running I feel will be the hardest. Track or treadmill and I do great. Pavement, even dirt path, has been my running bane.

It's my own fault really. Whether it was simply the unwillingness to put myself on display or the fear of the temporary pain as my body transitioned from the cushiness of the treadmill to the unforgiviness of the pavement, or both, I don't know.

So, fair or not, I picked a few people out of the crowd and thought to myself, "hey, if they can do this, so can I."

The gun went off and I was swept up in the crowd of runners.

Two minutes into the run I began to have buyers remorse.

What in the hell had I gotten myself into?

This was hard!

And it certainly was uncomfortable!

Running on concrete really sucked! Goats!

I could turn around, lie about my time (never mind the fact that if anyone checked the official times posted online, I would show up without a time) and just go home to the warmth of my house.

So once again I picked someone out of the crowd ahead of me, someone who, like me, looked like she was struggling, and paced her. We played several rounds of leap frog.
I didn't get her name, or even her bib number, so I could have thanked her, whether she realized or not the game that I had played with her.

The first mile marker came sooner than I had expected and was thrilled when the marshall called out my first split time. Rock on! I was 22 seconds under my goal.

The water station, marking the halfway point came and went.

Families dotted the race course, some holding signs cheering on family members. Course marshalls cheered on runners as they made their ways through intersections. It camraderie was uplifting and encouraging.

Shortly after the two mile marker, when my legs really began to burn and I began to huff and puff, I really let the random thoughts begin to fly. What came to my mind was a logo my brother and I had discussed in an email exchange one day. It was the logo that I should have put on my shorts and top for tri day:

A cartoon person in a wet suit, flippers, snorkel mask, swimmies and an inner tube in the shape of a duck.

If I found this image funny when it was first discussed, I found it hysterical during my run. It actually made me laugh outloud. It re-energized me and pushed me on.

All in all, it was a good day for runner 444.

I am happy to report that I placed 639th among 677 participants.

Yay me for not being last.

Okay, so that really wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that they made a huge announcement when the last runner crossed the finish line. That would be the kind of attention that would make me want to find the closest rock to crawl under.

My goal, without any real thought to back it up (aside from "Hey, that sounds like a nice number."), was to complete in about 40 minutes.

My final chip time (secured to my running shoe with the help of twist ties) was 40:39.

Really, so how cold is 65 degrees?

I received an email from the Pigman organizer the other day with some general information. This year's sprint event will host almost 900 people. That means there will be a lot of people swimming around (over) me as I will be in the first waves of swimmers to go in after the elite and relay team swimmers. Woo! Yay! Also noted is the fact that they're forecasting the water temperature to be about 65 degrees.

So, because I have a fondness for useless trivia, I wondered how long I would have to hang out in 65 degree water before hypothermia would set in. According to the Mayo Clinic, I have 2 to 7 hours before exhaustion or unconsciousness sets in.

As I am shooting for a swim time of around 20 minutes, it looks like I will be okay, though I'm certain I'll be exhausted after those 20 minutes.

Not to worry though!

I have a wet suit.

Yup, the one my husband had conveniently failed to mention to me so many years ago fit fairly well. It's a little loose around the waist, but it will most definitely work for the Pigman.

Learning to swim in it is another matter.

I took it for a spin last night.

It most certainly does help with buoyancy, almost to the other end of extreme. I still have a few weeks left to practice in it so I'm sure I'll get the hang of it.

I ditched it in today's swim since it was still a little damp from last night's practice. I could have used the extra help as I managed to get 850 yards in today's workout.

Not too bad for someone who wanted to panic when her face was in the water 6 months ago.

It amazes me how far things have progressed in that short time frame. It also amazes me at how far I still need to go. I understand how people become addicted to the sport. I may be tired and I may want to skip training for the day, but if I can push through it, it's a great feeling. On days like last Saturday's mini-tri work out, it's exhilarating.

The quote at the bottom of the newsletter I received from my tri club read, "The harder you work, the harder it is to surrender."

I'm pretty sure that's true.

24 days until I prove that I've become a triathlete.

A very special episode of "Where are they now..."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. This post is waaaaaay long over due. I am aware. Thank you.

While I may have been shirking my blogging responsibilities I have not, in fact, been stepping out on training. So let me give you a bit of an update.

February sucked.

Yep, it did. Vacation was fabulous. I soaked up the garish entertainment of Las Vegas, basked in the sun while spending time with family in Phoenix. Got to experience the word "awesome" but stopping in between the two at the Grand Canyon.

We even brought some of the sunny warm weather back to cold, dreary Iowa.

Our first Saturday back took us on a bike ride up to the local bike shop to start thinking about getting me wheels. Unfortunately it also brought on a sinus infection, at least that's how I see it. As a result, I lost a good portion of February's training to illness.

I did however purchase those wheels that I had been contemplating. A shiny, fabulous Motobecane Fantom Cross Pro.

It's fabulous.

Unfortunately the weather was not and it was a couple of weeks before I could even get my first ride in. I have mastered the shifters. Mostly. With advice from various friends, I am getting better at climbing hills. It's amazing the difference a well fitted, light bike can make. I've even made the 8.5 mile (one-way) trip to my work a couple of times. (Okay, so only once was on an actual work day.)

When the weather cooperates I now bike the 3 miles to the Y on Saturday mornings for my swim.

Swimming has progressed. It amazes me how far I've come since the beginning of November. It's still a challenge. I still struggle with my breathing, but endurance... it's getting there.

I've added in a highly butchered version of the breast stroke into my workouts. The morning after my first breast-stroke workout I felt like I had steel bands wrapped around my chest and arms. With any luck I'll get a better grasp of this stroke and learn to love it as much as I love the backstroke. Can you say, "Bye-bye Grandma arms?" Well, that may be my unrealistic hope, but it's mine none the less and I will continue under this delusion until someone proves me wrong.

I have been internally debating the merits of a wet suit lately. Buoyancy is a factor. It'll actually help me from getting as tired during the swim. And the fact that I'm pretty sure the water is going to still be pretty chilly in 26 days is kind of important too.

As I was packing up my gear to head to the Y on Saturday, I mentioned this to my husband. He kindly informed me that he had a too small wetsuit in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Huh? What?

How have I been with him for almost 14 years, married to him for almost 6 and not know that he had a wetsuit? This seems like something that should be known about the main person in your life. Sort of like, do they perfer the roll of toilet paper to go over or under? Do they squeeze the toothpaste from the top of the bottom? Do they secretly like disco?

I didn't have time to question him further as I was already running late for swim. So I hopped on the bike and hit the road, all the while pondering the strength of our marriage.

Post swim, I tried my first transition. It was not graceful and led to another question to ponder...what if I have to go to the bathroom? I know that there will be port-a-potties and that there's a "bathroom" about 3/4 of a mile into the bike and run legs. By "bathroom" I mean pit toilet that grossed me out and made me seriously reconsider the need to go. But I have a feeling that I'm just going to have to hold it.

I digress...

I made my first transition, throwing on tri shorts and a bike top over my wet swimsuit, jamming on my socks and running shoes and making a dash for the bike locked up outside and my waiting.

We made an easy 11 mile loop before returning to the Y where I hopped off my bike, locked it up quickly and made a dash back into the building and up the stairs where the track waited for quick 1.5 mile run.

My loving husband was waiting for me with the car to take me home to meet his dresser drawer and the awaiting wetsuit.

27 days and counting...

Goals

Goals.

I have them.

Okay, so clearly I've stated my goals in the past:

1) Complete the Pigman.

2) Not drown while doing doing #1.

3) Raise $1,000 for cancer research.

But I've learned that I'm "Short Term" Girl, the "What's in it for me?" Girl.

The "Show me how I can be better than I already am or I'm going to get bored and lose interest" Girl.

I need something to work towards.

So I've finally figured out a way to measure my training progress. These goals have been hard to come by as I have absolutely nothing to compare my training to. Sure, I can google "Triathlon Training Plans." But most of them assume a level of fitness that I haven't had since my climbing-the-furniture-gymnastic days.

And yes, I'm improving. I've increased my endurance for running and swimming, but how do I know that I'm on track for what I now will refer to as "The Ultimate Three"?

I had asked Ann, my swim coach, if she would help me set these goals for the swimming piece a couple of weeks ago. She proposed her idea at my last lesson. She's not much for tracking yardage, feeling truly that endurance is better. If I can swim for 30 minutes straight, the yardage will follow. I just need to slowly build up my endurance time.

She proved it me on Saturday by making us do our first continuous swim. She set our goal for 10 minutes of straight swimming. The only stopping allowed was to grab or drop our kick board every 50 yards. I'll have to admit, 10 minutes sounded like a long time to someone who hadn't been able to really get passed 37 yards straight.

But what did I have to lose? There were two life guards on duty, my coach, plus three guys in the lap lanes who were told were also "training" for the Pigman. (I'm guess that they're doing the long course in August and not the sprint). I really didn't have to worry about drowning. Only being embarrassed if I had to be rescued.

11 minutes later I had completed 300 yards of continuous swimming.

So back to my goals.

My Vegas vacation is on the horizon. We leave on Friday and won't be back until the following week.

1) Spinning will begin the following week. My first cycling goal will be to make it through my first class. It's all downhill from there.

2) Increase my swimming endurance by 1 minute each week for the next two months. Hopefully at that point, I'll be able to start working on my speed.

3) Continue working on my walk to run program.

***That'll be $10 please.

What I have learned in the past week and a half - Part II

Half a peanut butter sandwich (non-salmonella laced, of course) does not make a good pre-run snack.

I figured that since it was loaded with protein and carbs, it would be a good choice to get me through the run since it was getting close to dinner time.

It did get me through the run. It really didn't sit heavily in my stomach, as I had begun to worry that would in the last couple of bites. The downfall was the peanut butter belches.

Not tasty.

I've also learned to focus on short term goals.

About two weeks ago I got to the two and a half minute run/two and a half minute walk stage in the program I've been following. I felt that I was up for the challenge. Until I read how long the first day was supposed to last:

13 5-minute intervals.

65 minutes. (75 with my warm up and cool down.)

The longest run/walk to date.

Panic!!!

How on earth was I supposed to run for 32 and a half minutes? That's almost forever!

On top of the long program, I have been battling extremely tight and sore calves. No matter how much I stretched, I couldn't seem to get them to loosen up.

So I too a deep breath, stretched, tied on my shoes and got on the treadmill.

20 minutes later, I feel like I'm going to start crying like a little girl, so I give in and cut the run short.

Two days later, I tried again.

I lasted 30 minutes this time.

I tried again.

35.

Okay, so I was making progress, but the tightness in the calves wouldn't go away. And it's still not the 75 minutes that I needed to get through to make it to day 2 of this interval. Frustrated, I made an appointment to see one of my favorite people: the massage therapist.

Not only were my calves tight, but so were my hips. She worked out some knots, reviewed my stretches and then sent me on my way.

Eager to undo all of her hard work, I got onto the treadmill.

30 minutes.

Gaaahhhhhh!!!!

I talked it out with my husband and my mom. I wasn't looking for advice, just simply to vent and maybe get a new perspective. It worked.

So did ibuprofen, tiger balm and sitting in the whirlpool after my swim workouts.

These are three things that I now love.

I stretched this evening while going through my "just got home from work" routine, paying special attention to my hips and calves. I got on the treadmill with only the hope of making it to 40 minutes.

Baby steps.

So what if I don't progress as quickly as the plan says I could? This is why I began training in November and not two months before the triathlon. I have room to take it slow.

I love a challenge, though up until this point, only if it's something that I'm good at right away.

Time for that to change.

So I took the baby steps. I turned on my iPod and the close captioned the TV to a couple of back to back episodes of Scrubs and set out.

My first goal was to make it through the first episode.

Then on through the second.

"Hey, the Daily Show was coming on. What do they have to say about the historic events of the previous day?"

"Oh my! Look at that! "

77 minutes later, I turned off my iPod, and the TV.

And the treadmill.

I defeated the interval.

Thank you

Thank you.

I don't know how it happened, the barrage of emails from friends who seemed to know my struggles and frustrations last week before I had a chance to get it off my chest. Random emails came in from friends giving me words of encouragement, seemingly unrelated to my trials.

Was my doubt so strong that it could be sniffed out?

I swear I shower and use deodorant.

Whatever the cause, I appreciate it.

The words of encouragement helped bolster my sagging spirits and reminded me that this is just as much psychological training as it is physical. If I allow the doubt in, it could take root and undermine my determination. And we all know that is not allowed to happen. Too much is on the line.

Which brings me to my next thank you.

Thank you to those of you who have not only opened your minds to my decision to transform my squishy-couch-potato-self into a triathlete, but to those of you who have opened your wallets as well. Your decision to donate to the American Cancer Society will help continue to hold me accountable. I solemnly swear that I will uphold my end of the bargain come June. Thanks to you, I am already almost half way to my goal of $1000.

And now for the training update.

Swim is back in session!

A new coach has taken over the adult swim lessons. We've lost a member from last session and added another. All three of us are working toward the same goal now, not drowning during the tri. It's comforting to know that I will not be alone in this journey. Other people that I know will be floundering along with me.

Not to make light of the two previous coaches. I learned a lot from them. They helped me get over breathing under water and gave me a solid foundation on which I will continue to build. But this new coach kicked my ass! She introduced a nice combination of drills and laps and kept us swimming for about 50 of the 60 minutes classes.

She kept asking us if we hated her yet.

I think she really didn't want us to, didn't want us to think that she was pushing us too hard.

I did.

Just a little bit.

But it's all for for my own good.

Not to mention that I liked it.

In the Throes of the Winter Blahs

I survived the holidays.

We'll just start there. I survived.

Now I'm not saying the I had a horrible holiday season. Not by a long shot. Sure, the drive to Columbus to visit family was almost ridiculously painful. I think we managed to choose the absolutely worst days possible to make the drive, turning a nine and a half hour drive into 15 hours of white-knuckle steering. It was great spending time with family and catching up with some friends. But the sleeping in.... ah, the sleeping in....

While I was away, I learned my first real hard lesson about how important it is for me to do everything in my power to not miss training days. With the busy holiday season looming closer and closer, I neglected swimming and my newly established running program the last five or six days before hitting the road.

Determined to be good and get back on the horse, I jumped on my parents' treadmill early Christmas Eve morning to continue on with the walk to run program I had started a few weeks earlier. And the confusion set in.

Now, let me tell you that I have never once given any consideration to my preferences of treadmill features. Not even when my husband and I purchased ours several years ago. It was more for him than for myself. You got on it and ran. This made you sweat, which we have already established that, until very recently, I did not enjoy. I had no real intention of using it. At least not then, anyway.

Staring at the controls on my parents' treadmill I tried to find the button to press that would start me at my 3 MPH warm up pace. But it wasn't there. Wait, in fact, I couldn't figure out how to get it started at all. After a couple of minutes of searching, I realized that once you activated the master switch, you had to manually adjust your speed with the little up and down arrows.

Manual. Hmmmm. Okay, I can deal with that. I drive a manual transmission car.

My warm up went okay, but then it was time for me to kick it up to a run.

Do you know that to go from a 20 minute mile to a 12 minute mile, you have to hit that little button at least 20 times? When I say at least 20 times, it's because I've learned that, when you're really tired from running, the little button becomes less responsive as you shift to a lower speed. Maybe I was just beat and my hand-eye coordination was off, but I swear I had to hit the down arrow 50 times to get to an acceptable pace that would keep my from falling off the back of the belt.

20 minutes into my 50 minute workout and I was done.

I was pooped.

Finished.

Bummed.

I hadn't had a really bad work out at this point.

I did get back on the horse. I had a great run the next morning before the Christmas festivities could start. I learned my lesson.

I didn't get anymore treadmill or swim time before we traveled back to Iowa.

I've been actively persuing my running training while sadly neglecting my swimming.

Maybe it's because I feel lost without the structure of my swim lessons (which thankfully start back up in a couple of days). Maybe it's because I have an awesome, one touch speed treadmill waiting for me just across the hall from my bedroom. I don't know. I think I'm just in the throes of the winter blahs.

I need to add spinning into the training mix in the next week or so. I'm trying to figure out how to fit it all in without feeling like I've given my life over to the sport. Or maybe that's the point of this whole exercise.

Running this past Sunday was a good/bad experience.

Physically, it was great. I moved sucessfully to the next step in the program and increased my speed a bit. It was the longest walk/run workout to date. I should have been thrilled with my progress considering that I was the one in gym class to do just about anything to get out of the mile run fitness test.

But I wasn't thrilled.

Doubt set in.

I questioned myself for the first time since setting out on this journey. What the hell am I doing? Am I completely insane? I am not an athlete. I am a squishy couch potato who may very well drown in June.

I pushed through my running alternating between these thoughts and my mantra:

I am pain.

I am endurance.

I am defiance.

I will not fail.