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!

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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....