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...