How time flies....

It's hard to believe that the Pigman is less than a week away already. The spring seemed to fly by in a blur...

...from my kitchen window.

I've spent a good portion of the past two months in front of my ovens trying to bank as much for vacation as possible.

I forget every year how busy April and May can be for cake orders. It wasn't until this Saturday that my busy season ended. Nothing more on the books until August for now.

Sadly this has limited my time to train as I had wished, though I think I have spent more time on my bike than I did last year.

My brother asked me this morning if I felt that I was ready for "the piggie."

I think that I am despite not getting as much time in.

I know what to expect. I'm familiar with the course. Half my cheering squad will be missing from the sidelines as I have conned them in to joining me, but I'll keep on truckin'.

T-minus 5 days and counting.

Part I - Portsmouth, Oh

I made it just south of Waverly, 34 of the 58 miles to Portsmouth, to White Lake.

It started out nice enough, cooler than expected, but sunny for the most part.

The winds were exactly what we expected unfortunately. Mostly annoying cross breezes in the beginning, the turned to head winds that occasionally make you feel like you hit a wall.

My brother-in-law Nick was my companion for a good deal of the ride, until just outside of Waverly.

I began to really struggle on the hills and preferred to ride them alone. I really hate feeling like I'm slowing others down, so he picked up his pace and stopped waiting at the top of the hills for me.

I turned on to 23 and bikes for a short mile or two with traffic, passing places my family had stopped on the way to or from my Grandma's.

I had just made the turn where 104 splits off when I remembered that I was in the home stretch for the first stop. Deciding to take a quick stop.

That's when it happened.

I pulled onto the gravel drive and forgot to unclip my sandal.

Yup, my first fall was witnessed not only by all of th traffic on 23, but radio support and an ambulance.

Well, at least I was in good company.

I waved them off with what I hope was a sheepish grin, caught my breath and continued on my way.

I hit the causeway that ran through the lake and was slammed with head/cross winds again. I knew that I was done, had hit my limit.

A quick turn off that bridge and I was in the first rest stop where Nick and his wife Ang were waiting.

"Where's the food?" were the first words out of my mouth.

They both pointed to the top of a hill and replied, "Up at the top of the stairs."

"Stairs? I can do stairs," were my famous last words.

The wonderful organizers had put the snack pavilion at the top of one last wicked hill. My legs burned before I even made it half way up.

Bananas, granola bars and orange wedges never tasted so good.

Nick took off to finish the last leg to Portsmouth and shortly thereafter Pete and his other brother Stephan came rolling in, having completed three legs of the 118 mile trip down.

We all hung together until they were rested enough to continue on.

I hopped into the car with Ang and drove to the day's finish line.

"I cannot go to school today"

I feel like little Peggy Ann McKay in the Shel Silverstein poem "Sick."

But I can't ride TOSRV tomorrow, my knee feels all tweaky.

My rear break is too loose?

It's too windy?

Too sunnny?

Oh, all right, fine.

We arrived in Columbus in the wee hours of this morning, bikes and camping gear in tow, and adventure in our hearts. I dropped into the bed at my father-in-law's around 2 and suddenly 8 o'clock came to early. My body was not yet willing to give up on sleep, but apparently my brain had other plans.

"It's light outside, so it must be time to get up!" it kept shouting at me.

I rolled out of bed and wandered upstairs to the kitchen for my required cup of coffee: it was time to get the day moving.

After a leisurely breakfast of yummy bagels and cold cuts, we moved outside to start organizing our gear: rolling and repacking our tent, stuffing sleeping bags that had just been tossed into the car, into their stuff bags, the hunting down of biking gloves that had gone astray from their helmets during the trip.

We adjusted my seat (to hopefully eliminate the tweaky knee that resulted during the last long ride), gave my handle bars a tiny turn up (wish I had done that a year and a half ago), and tightened the aforementioned loose rear break.

My saddle back has been packed with tools and spare tubes that I am completely unsure of how to use in the event of an emergency. But I did receive coaching on that as well. "Pull out the tools and the tube and then just play dumb. Someone will stop to help you," were my husband's sage words.


Excellent, no problem there.


Okay, yes, I should learn how to change a tire. Bicycles do not come with AAA after all. And how big of deal is it when I already know how to tighten my breaks and align my gears? One of these days....


The weather forecast had been promising, mid 60s and sunny. 


That has since changed to mid 50s, cloudy and winds at 25 mph from the WSW.


Great. We'll be bike SSE.

Sunday is slightly better. The winds drop to 12-15 mph but shift to coming out of the WNW, the direction we'll be heading.

Good times.

Here's to hoping that the weather man is wrong.

What's black and blue and red all over?

Me!

I prayed for rain, thunderstorms, a tsunami and the like, but the rotten weather wouldn't comply. Instead of a torrental downpour on Saturday, we were graced with wonderously clear blue skies and cool temperatures.

The ride to the Amanas was on.

Swim was swim. A new session for sure; only two of us left in the "not afraid to put our face in the water" level. But it's still the same drill routine and I'm in need of some change.

My other half has given in and joined the Y. A good thing too, since I've brainwashed him enough sign up for the Pigman as well.

Saturday morning he prepped our bikes and off we went to the Y for a swim prior to our departure for the Amanas.

After swim I did everything I could think of to delay the inevitable. We biked a few blocks to the Czech Village and fueled up on coffee, donuts and flaky apple streudel before making our way past the city limits.

The news had said to expect gusty winds and they were right. Though cross winds threatened on occasion to push us farther into lanes of traffic, there were times that the winds were at our backs, making us fly.

We lunched, wandered through the village and tried some cheeses before parking ourselves on a sunny bench. Exhausted still, I caught a short catnap, and then downed a quick iced mocha, hoping for energy to get me through the return trip.

We hopped on our bikes once again and turned onto the main thoroughfare home.

And up a 3 mile hill.

Into 20 mile an hour head winds.

I made it half a mile (I'm probably being very generous) before I pulled completely onto the shoulder to sob.

My loving husband walked me through a plan of attack, setting small goals to get us to our destination, and teaching me how to ride half a tire's length of his back wheel.

It was nearly dark, the street lights flickering on, as we entered the park next to our house nearly 4 hours later.

My legs were bruised from whacking myself with my pedals.

My arms were burnt into a nice farmers tan.

But I made it.

Calm, cool, confident.... and a little bit panicky

TOSRV is a little less than a month away and I have yet to ride more than 20 miles in a single day. Much less than the 100 miles required.

I haven't ridden in two weeks for various reasons. One of which is the wedding cake I just finished delivering and setting up.

Which brings us back to the confidence that I am trying very hard to exude in an attempt to cover the panic that's simmering just below the surface.

Tomorrow, at my request, my husband and possibly some friends will bike to the Y for the usual Saturday swim, followed by a ride to the Amana Colonies.
Potentially 60 miles round trip.

I haven't looked at the forecast because I don't want to know anymore than it's going to hit the low 60s and be sunny. But right now gale force winds are bowing the prairie grass to the ground, making me a little concerned about my bright idea.

Here's hoping for a calm ride.

Once more, with feeling...

It's amazing, the greening that is going on right now. I swear that my garden was a dull pile of brown dirt just a couple of days ago. But the Hostas are insistently poking their creepy little worm-like talons up out of the ground now. Bushes and trees are starting to take on the green haze of early leaf buds. My favorite, the tulip trees, are getting ready to explode with their lush, pink chunky blossoms.

And as I bike more and more, I am beginning to appreciate the little things that you don't really notice when you're traveling by car. The croaking toads that I had mentioned earlier for one. The canopy of trees that cover a street that you bike up for another.

I took a new route home from the Y on Saturday: Bever Avenue.

It was a different type of hill than what I had been riding. Mostly they had been long and slow. This was a little more rolling. Different on a Saturday morning than the normal busy weekday, I decided to take it on since it was an unknown. If I had been hoping for an easier rode home, I was sorely disappointed.

After a decent swim workout, about 1000 yards, my legs were already on the tired side. But there was the promise of fresh chocolate croissants from one of the best places in Cedar Rapids: Croissant du Jour. Well, they are certainly the best places in Eastern Iowa for croissants, as far as I'm concerned.

So I pushed on.

Bever Avenue turned out to be a different sort of hill challenge: shorter, slow climbs, mixed with short downhill spurts and an actual traffic light.

Thankfully, the last stretch was a flat/downhill combo, before it came time to tackle The Hill.

Yes, those are capital letters.

I'm paying The Hill the respect that is due. It's the last hill; the hill home.

I have not made it up to the top since that one time, so long ago that it's now only a vague memory. I have, however, learned to respect it and what it can teach me.

Small goals are my way of conquering it now. Each time, half a driveway more until I stop. The last drive on the right before the first cross street was my best.

Somehow, somewhere, on these few trips to work or workout and back I have learned how to attack. Maybe it was the dreaded spin class where I learned it and the addition of the clips have helped put it to use in the real world, I don't know. I attacked the long, slow hill up Blake a couple of weeks ago, making the first time I made it up without stopping ever.

I did it again, though this time I was aware of what I was doing, up the last portion of The Hill.

And it was an amazing feeling.

I'm down to one stop on The Hill. That's the most that I will make anymore.

Yesterday, I was to that last drive on the right, ready to throw up, when I figured I would try to shift down one more. And to my amazement, there was one more gear to go down.

And one more.

And one more.

And one more still.

If I had been better aware of the gear that I had been in, it was entirely possible that I could have gone on to Ridgemore, and then on to Terry before crossing the buckle in the road that I consider to be my finish line: the line where the road levels out and begins to slope ever so slightly back down to my street.

I guess I'll never know if it could have happened. But it will happen one day. And one day soon.

My breath was hard, my legs jello-y, as I flopped down onto the couch in my living room, begging for my chocolate croissant and the cup of coffee.

The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man's determination. ~Tommy Lasorda

The pros and cons of catching pneumonia

Spring has finally sprung in Cedar Rapids.

The 50 feet of snow that had blanketed my lawn has melted.The oak in the backyard has given up its leaves. It is officially spring.

I have been hemming and hawing about starting to bike into work.

I've been blaming daylight savings since it now doesn't start to become light until 6:45.

I've been blaming the fact that we switched my pedals to clip-ins so I can ride with my new bike sandals and the fact that between work and cake orders, I've been too busy to get out and ride.

I've been blaming the weather for not being warm enough or for being too rainy.

Really, it's been the fear of the frustrations the biking causes me. Hills are still my nemesis. And I'm sure that in the 6 months it's been since I've been outside on my bike, I haven't magically gotten better at it.

But I had quickly run out of time, considering how soon TOSRV will be here, followed shortly by the Pigman.

So I packed up my new bike bag last night with clothing for today, set out my sandals and collected my riding gear: bike shorts, thermal tights, long sleeve shirt, short sleeve shirt, bike gloves and helmet. Well, it was only going to be in the high 30s when it was time to set out.

7 am came fairly quickly and I began to second guess my decision. The recent, very fast thaw, followed by buckets o'rain had flooded the Cedar River again and it was quite possible that my bike trail would be submerged still at certain points. This wouldn't be a huge deal, but using the bike path allowed me to skip certain monstrous hills and tons of traffic.

Okay.

I'm being a bit dramatic. I live in Iowa after all.

Tons of traffic doesn't really exist. At least not in the direction that I was headed.

My husband offered no sympathy, though he did admit to being mildly concerned about me being alone on the 4 miles of bike trail that runs through the woods. Not because he was concerned for my safety (see above reference to living in Iowa), but because I was clipping into my pedals. He is fully aware of my lack of coordination and was worried that I might fall and break something.

I relented and off we set, heading down the hill and through the park together until our paths diverged.

And I was left alone with my thoughts.

Which, to be honest, consisted mostly of, "um, why the hell am I doing this again?"

I don't know if it was the addition of bike shoes and pedals or maybe the effort I've been putting in has just paid off, but I certainly felt stronger. The ride that I had made a couple of times last year seemed easier.

The trip itself was uneventful. The portions of the trail that had been washed out by the floods of '08 had been repaved and were dry, though they were still covered with sand where the river had taken over again. I was able to stay within myself when the climbing became difficult, not paying much attention to what awaited ahead. I focused on the gearing advice that been given to me by someone who had many century rides under his belt.

I got into work an hour later than usual, which had been expected. It threw my day off as I'm so accustomed to being the first one in our set of pods each morning.

Unfortunately a quick peek at the weather forecast around lunch time showed that the 10% chance of showers at 3pm turned into 60% by 2. At 3, I checked the radar. There was almost only green on the screen with a big blob of yellow storms sitting over Cedar Rapids.

With Pete having biked in to work as well, I had no choice but to set out for home in the rain.

I was mostly surprised with the results.

Early in the trail portion of the route, I became concerned by a sound that I could not identify. I turned my head to to try to get a better ear and realized that the path was winding through some swampy lands. The sounds that had caught my attention was many happy toads wallowing in the rain. Definitely not something that I would have gotten to experience had I driven in.

I arrived home, soaked, sandy and cold, but really, it hadn't been as miserable as I thought it would be.

“It is our attitude at the beginning of a difficult task which, more than anything else, will affect it’s successful outcome.” ~William James 

Who would have thought?

Who would have thought that my local grocery store follows my blog? I mean, how else can I explain that everything that I wanted was on sale this week. They surely heard my complaints last week and promptly resolved the issue, right?

It seemed that all produce was $.88 cents (each or per pound, didn't matter). Chicken breasts were $1.99 per pound and 99% lean ground turkey was Buy One Get One. Roma tomatoes are slow roasting in the oven (where they will be for the next 6 hours) in prep for a couple of menu items this week. Avocados are ripening on the counter for sandwiches. Joy has returned to my kitchen.

Since Pete worked late a few days this week, I hate cooking for just one, and we had massive amounts of turkey chili left over, some of last weeks items were moved to this week. So while it may not have changed much over last, I feel more inspired with what I have to work with.

Same goes for my work out this week.

Though I'm sure it was sitting back in my subconscious already, I was reminded by Andrea during our swim yesterday, the Pigman is just over three months away. And while I have been better about getting to the gym, I've let my running program go a little lax. Part of it was the lingering cold that I fought for two weeks, true. Part of it has just been my struggle to fit it all in.

So I have decided that I need to start pushing myself even harder. I'm going to start sacrificing the warmth of my bed in the early morning hours to get to the track to run. Sure, I could just do the treadmill, but having been through four 5k runs now, it doesn't seems to be enough to aptly condition my body. The track still offers more shock absorption that the concrete roads that surround my house, and, quite frankly, it's still too cold to start running outside in the dark hours of the morning.

It also seems that the weather has heard my pleas for mercy. The current 10 day forecast shows temperatures at or just above freezing with some sunshine to go with it. At the moment, next Saturday is showing a low of 31 and a high of 42. If that sticks, I may have to bike to the Y for my usual Saturday swim.

And now, in the world of biking and extreme goals for this year....

It has been decided that Pete and I will be participating in the annual Tour of the Scioto River Valley bike ride in May. I'm optioning only the half ride: 50 miles one way. It'll be good prep for both the triathlon and for our planned vacation. I need to get over my dislike of hills and being stuck in the middle of nowhere will force me to complete the ride.

Sign me up, pay the fee, announce it to the world so I can't back out.

"Things that hurt, instruct." ~ Ben Franklin

Training Schedule: Week of February 21st

Since I create the Board on Sundays, it just made more sense to shift the week to Sunday - Saturday. Maybe it'll help me actually make my Sunday work out too.

The menu this week feels uninspired. Maybe it's my irritation with my local grocery store for having nothing even remotely healthy on sale aside from grapes.

I joined a Biggest Loser competition at work a couple of weeks ago. Of course I was sick during the first two weeks of the competition and hadn't really been able to work out. My loss stands at a whopping 1.25 pounds.

Now in the fourth week of competition, my cold is mostly gone and I've decided it's time to light a fire under my motivation. The pot is at $415 for the Biggest Loser to take away with 8 more weeks to go.

And now that I'm getting the energy back to both work out and cook, the sale selection just seems to be blah.

Or maybe my irritation stems from the weather forecast and the additional 2"-5" of snow that will fall by noon tomorrow. Global Warming my ass!!

New swim suits are on their way.

I balked at the $45 price tag of my swim suit when I started on this journey. I figured that I was simply paying for the Speedo name, but with limited resources for swimsuit buying in November in Iowa, I concluded that it was the best deal to be found.

Last spring I came across the website Swimoutlet.com and found fitness suits for as little as $19, so I ordered myself a pretty red one.

It started to shred three months later, and that was with switching back and forth between the pretty new red one and my basic black number.

The original $45 suit has held up for over a year now but is now on its last leg. There's a little more drag in the bottom and I continuously have to pull up the top at the end of each lap. A seam in the back is getting a little threadbare and is making me start to worry that it will soon come undone mid-stroke.

I bit the bullet and ordered the same suit again. Hopefully it'll hold up as well as my original.

Going with the flow

So I'm not a big fan of winter.

I've never tried to keep my dislike of the cold slush a secret.

Winter does have its advantages: It hosts holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas, which in turn means days away from the office and time spent visiting family.

And sure, it's pretty....

Until you can start driving again and the pure whiteness that blankets everything turns into mucky, grey slush.

I feel that despite the complaints unleashed mostly on my poor husband, I'm pretty good at going with the flow. I knew that Iowa was by no means tropical when we discussed moving here thee and a half years ago.

But this winter, though not necessarily colder, has brought with it the longest stretch of days with snow on the ground. (as shown in the photo of my driveway below)

I feel the anxiety rising, a sense of dread that I will never see green grass on my lawn. I want to get out and feel the wind on my face and the sense of panic in my stomach as I fly on my bike down the hill next to my house.

Please, please, please Spring arrive soon.

I'm getting back up

Nike once said, "Just so it."

So I did.

Sitting on the couch today, still nursing this stupid cold and watching the Olympics, a new Nike commercial came on and asked, "When will you get back up?"

I realized that it's my own fault that I'm still sick. I've been babying this cold when instead, I should have been telling it who's boss.

My biggest mistake was not keeping up with the Board.

"The Board?" you ask.

Yes, The Board:

This week's training schedule

Each week I post my training plan to a dry erase board in my kitchen. It's partially to keep me on track and partially helps my husband keep track of me.

I neglected to write it out last week. It's a mistake I won't make again. I'm taking a firmer hand with the stuffy nose and coughing.

It's time for me to get back up.

~ Life is 10% of what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. - John Maxwell

Being sick sucks

It was a valiant fight, I think.

For a week and a half I held at bay the cold that had reduced my husband to coughs and sneezes.

I would come home from the Y to the wistful sighs, "I wish I could have worked out today...", happy that I hadn't yet been brought down.

Yet.

The three hour nap that I took after Saturday's swim really should have been my first clue. Sure, it had been a long week with a couple of late nights, but not enough to knock me for such a loop.

Sunday morning I could feel it building in my chest. I woke in the middle of the night Sunday and knew that it was all over. I was going down for the count.

Now I can only hope that I'm well enough to make it to the pool for the last swim of the session on Saturday.

Here's to hoping...


~ "I had to pick myself up and get on with it, do it all over again, only even better this time." Sam Walton

American Cancer Society

I promised I would do it again.

I would have even if I hadn't promised.

It's a big part of what holds me accountable.

The link to my American Cancer Society's donation page is up and running again. Click here to make a donation or use the link on the right hand side of this page.

I'm dedicating this season to my mom, who battled cervical cancer over the summer.

And to Lori Michael, a friend of the family, who recently lost her fight.

Help me Tri for more success stories and fewer good-byes.

Training diary

So I got this fabulous new phone that will let me post remotely. So I'm gonna give it a test drive.

Tonight is Body Pump and I'm not excited.

I am but I'm not. I think I'm just dreading the soreness that I'm sure is inevitable at this point in training.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to run and then go to a Body Flow class.

Really hoping to keep to my schedule this week despite having a business dinner and needing to get my house (not to mention samples) in order for at least 2 wedding cakes tastings this weekend.

Well here goes.

I'm off to lift.

Training Schedule: Week of January 25th

I didn't learn my lesson last week. My goals are still ambitious.

So here's the game plan for next week:

Monday:

Body Pump

Tuesday:

30 minute run & Body Flow

Wednesday:

1 hour spin class

Thursday:

25 minute run & Body Pump

Friday:

OFF

Saturday:

1 hour coached swim

Sunday:

Biking of some sort

The Iowa weather is killing me. I'm itching for it to warm up so I can try out the clip in bike shoes that I got for Christmas.

I'm awaiting the falls from my bike as I forget that my feet are actually tethered to the pedals. I want to get them (yes, I'm fairly certain there will be more than one) out of the way so I can recover and get back to training.

Until the thaw begins, my steed shall be a stationary bike...

"Success is determined by how determined you are to succeed." ~Unknown

Kristie's Tri for Cancer 2: Harder and Faster

Kristie's Tri for Cancer 2: Harder and Faster is now running at the Y nearest you.

Week 2 of training is coming to a close.

It was an ambitious week and I had made the resolution to stick to the plan:

Monday:

Body Pump (a one hour weight lifting class set to music)

500 yard swim

Tuesday:

25 minute run (okay, I'm still walking/running)

Body Flow (a one hour Pilates/Yoga/Tai Chi class)

Wednesday:

One hour of Spinning

Thursday:

More Body Pump

Friday:

Off

Saturday:

25 minute run

1 hour of coached swimming

Sunday:

Biking of some sort

I regretfully had to ditch spinning on Wednesday as I was still attempting to recover from the Body Pump class. Tonight I ditched Body Pump, because, well I felt like having at least one pain free day this week.

Tomorrow I'm back on the horse. I'd go to a make up spin class, but quite frankly, as motivated I am to train, I still can't drag myself out of bed at 5 in the morning just to go to a class that makes me want to throw up.

I'll hit the track on the way home and try to make some more progress.

My random thought for the day:

It occurred to me in the shower (always the best place for random thoughts) that showering at the Y was just like making a meal out of airline snacks.

Huh?

The towels provided through the Y towel service are just big enough to keep you from being indecent, but not big enough to provide any modesty.

Again, random thought, I know.

So on the menu for this season:

I have established goals and boy are they lofty.

To meet them I'll need to hit the bike harder. When the icy Iowa weather turns warmer, I'll start biking to work at least a couple of days a week. I know that I'll need to conquer my fear of hills, so I've set vacation plans to bike the Continental Divide in September as part of a two week, 400 mile bike ride. How could a view like that not be motivation?

I will need to run faster and longer. As much as the Muddy Monster run blew, I found that I actually can lose myself in the rhythm of the run. I found myself a little exhilarated when I realized that I had done just that on Tuesday. Raised by an Optimist, I think I just need to embrace it and give in.

Swimming...

Do I need to mention swimming? The event that I feared the most in the beginning...the one work out that I now love the most...

Okay, I guess I should.

I pledge to not let my love of swimming take precedence over all other training. I started this journey to push myself outside of my comfort zone and I will continue to do that.

I started this blog to publish my goals and hold myself accountable, and I will continue to do that too.

So here we go:

This year it won't be enough to complete the event. I will swim harder and bike and run faster.

My goal is to take my 2 hour, 24 minute finish time from last year and lop off 39 minutes.

That means taking 21 seconds off of my 100 yard swim pace, 24 minutes off my bike pace and a full four minutes off of my mile run pace.

I have my work cut out for me.

Cheer me on.

“Limitations live only in our minds. But if we use our imaginations, our possibilities become limitless.” ~ Jamie Paolinetti

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.