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.