Me, We, Three

I’m going to make light of this, because it’s the only way I can come to terms with it. I’m disappointed. Very disappointed.

So, last year I decided that it was about time I buckled down and got serious about this sport. A new bike, a new coach, a new attitude, and a lot of great races on the horizon. Soon I added a nutritionist and an ART therapist, piles of gear, and lots of traveling.

And it was a good. I was happy and wise. But somehow not so wealthy.

Seems that when you spend all of your free money on training and racing, there’s no money fairy that replaces it in your wedding savings fund or the ‘I’ve gotta move out of this dang neighborhood’ bank account.

Like, seriously....where is the freaking fairy?

Two nights ago, Mighty M and I had a heart to heart. He’s a man of few words, and being that man of few words, I know that when he says something in one of our “grown-up” conversations, I should listen.

We talked about our wedding. And our mortgage. My student loans and his outstanding obligations. We talked about needing to move before making babies (thankyouverymuch) and how much house we could afford. And when we could afford that.

And it was scary and a reality check for me. You see, all Mighty M needs for entertainment is an Xbox and zombie movies. Seriously. I wouldn’t joke about this.

Me? I’ve picked up a habit that’s a wee bit more pricey. And it’s not totally fair, you know.

And every husband or wife out there reading this probably remembers the moment the “me” became the “we.”

Well, we just had a moment.

So, I decided to pare down. EVERYTHING. And it was hard. Being responsible sucks monkey balls.

Of course, the Elf understood when I explained it all to her, and was more gracious than anyone I know. A consummate pro, in more ways than one. And you’ll see my race schedule has DRASTICALLY changed on the sidebar. I’ve pared it down to just some local races that I want to keep so I stay motivated and in shape, but won’t break the bank. I’m going to skip the rest of the halves this year and, instead, continue to build my own fitness with lots of cross training.

And maybe I’ll start needlepointing again.

Cause I have no idea what I’m going to do with all of this free time.

….

So.

I’m sad, but I know it’s the right decision. I’m part of something bigger than just my own wants and needs, now. And for that, I’m very lucky. So it’s time for a little sabbatical from my favorite hobby so, one day, Mighty M can carry me across the threshold of our brand new house and we can start making the “we” the “three.”

And that is worth it.

Keeping healthy

Y'all know how much I love my coach. She's changed the sport for me and opened me up to a million new skills, angles, insights, and abilities. And it's only April.

If you didn't know, in addition to her faaaahbulous blog, she also has a website devoted to her coaching business, Multisport Mastery. She posts really helpful things on training, recovery, and the head games that triathlon can plan on even the most unassuming of athletes.

Take, for instance, this week's article on staying healthy. Some excellent advice. Check it out.

* * *

You all know how happy I've been working with the Elf -- it's all chronicled here. So you already know I'm very, very biased. But I just wanted to nudge those of you who read my little blog here, who don't already work with someone, to consider hiring a coach. I cannot say enough how I have progressed leaps and bounds with my coach's help. I approach my training and my racing with more confidence and my fitness has never been so strong.

Since the season has just started and you're likely refining your schedule for the year and, maybe, searching through online training plans for justtherightone (dude, you know you're doing it!) ... just consider coaching. It's an investment in yourself that pays great dividends. And you already know, of course, who I would recommend. (wink)

How to completely mess up a rest week AND blow your knee, all in one easy lesson.

Sometimes, training isn't great. Sometimes you don't get to daydream about strong finishes and hear your own soundtrack in your head, urging you forward. Sometimes you don't get what you want, and sometimes you probably should have stayed home.

Yup. Sometimes it just sucks.

And such is life.

From whence this melancholy come? Last week. Or, more specifically, 1:15 PM last Saturday.

Here's the deal. My coach dialed me back for the week for a couple of reasons. First, I have a build coming up for a STUPENDOUS EARTH SHATTERING PEAK for my first race of the season. Okay, I kid a bit with the shattering stuff, but there will be a peak involved I'm told.

And second, I had a 2 hour run on the schedule for Saturday. It's my longest so far on deck since last season and a source of a little consternation about being properly rested and whatnot. But *I* was confident that it would be *just dandy* and *don't worry* about me because 2 hours sound *peachy.* I can do it in my sleep.

Ah, bravado. How did I make it through my 20s without you?

So (warning: admission coming ahead), I'm not really - um - all that great at the rest week thingy. Actually, I'm pretty craptastic at it. Here's why.

"Rest week" in my world (apparently) is translated "everything is optional week."

(Sigh.)

(I know, I know.)

My poor coach. I should have warned her that I have two speeds -- training or sittinginbedwatchingtveatingbonbons.

(no, not really bonbons. maybe berry gelato. but that was just ONCE.)*

I was peachey for my swims, but that quick run on Tuesday? My headache had an easy time of convincing me otherwise. The bike on Wednesday? Notsomuch.

AND WHAT WAS THE RESULT???

Huh? Huh, genius?

That would be knee pain. AND YES, I know, it has happened before. Um, can we say the 2006 Philly Marathon? Yeah, my ITB hates trying to throw out there a 2 hour run when I haven't given it the time of day for a week.

So, Saturday was a day of no lollipops and nary a rainbow. Just one p-ed off runner walking dejectedly home an hour early. And in pain. And really angry with the world (read: myself and my knee).

I iced and I moped and I complained and moped some more. And this tempermental triathlete tantrum didn't end until I finally got on the bike on Sunday to finish up the week's plan.

And you know what? That. Sucked. Too.

(Sigh.)

It can't all be lollipops and rainbows, I guess. Sometimes it just doesn't work. Sometimes I've gotta just remember the good runs and shut up and move on.

And for right now, I've gotta find a local place that sells foam rollers. Because I needs me one. Pronto.


* okay, twice.

Like Normal

I'm a little thrashed, trashed and cashed.

Today is a nice little break at the end of the third build week. A nice, solid 11:40 effort and only 0:45 short of a perfect week.

(As always, the pool was my downfall -- I went for the ez swim yesterday and found full lanes and lacked the patience to stay. A better triathlete would have stayed and waited. I was not that triathlete. I was too distracted with the house that needed to be cleaned and a huge bike on the horizon of my day. Sigh.)

And for once, I feel totally normal about it. Yeah, I have some serious aches (quads, calves, hammies) and pains (how exactly did I bruise up my ankle so badly on Sat's long run?), but in general, I feel normal.

Which tells me something.

I finally got the formula. I got the right amount of sleep. I got the right amount of food. I stayed healthy and balanced. And came out the other side feeling, well, NORMAL.

Some interesting training experiences to share from the week...

• It's a great feeling when, after being on the bike for 2:30 and managing 4 kind of monster Z2/sometimes Z3 intervals, you don't feel miserable. It's nice to not dread that last 15 minutes of a long bike.
  

• Dialing in nutrition takes a long freaking time. But it's worth the effort. I'm starting to put the pieces together, in the hopes of never having to throw-up in the water again or take pukey pitstops along the road.

• The irony of proper training nutrition is that you can't justify eating a whole pizza afterwards. For example, I did a pretty killer 2:45 ride yesterday, but I also consumed about 1200 calories along the way. No way a large thin crust will work with that math!

• If you go out mad, you'll blow your zones. Mighty M and I fought on Saturday morning. (Don't worry, all healthy couples do occasionally.) I walked out the front door with a 130 heart rate. Over double my resting rate! It took me over 4 miles to get it even remotely under control, and I still ended up with a run that was farther into Zone 2 than I was comfortable with. Don't go out mad.
  

And here's the most important point I learned, which is kind of a follow up to last week's thoughts on missed workouts. When you work with a coach, it's really, really, REALLY important that you follow their plans for you.

If you can hit each of the sessions and do the effort they describe...well, you'll end up feeling normal at the end. A little beat up and a little sore, but normal. There's no over-doing it because you're adding on missed sessions, there's a lot less stress, and it makes sense. Knowing this will help me stay "in line" more in the future.

And now...it's time for a rest week. Two whole days off. Itty bitty little sessions that have lots of Z1 and EZ in the description.

Which is good, since my Dad is coming to stay at the house for a whole week. And Saturday is our "meet the family" brunch, when Mighty M's family and mine meet for the first time. LOTS of things to attend to that don't have much to do with training!

Could it be? Maybe? No, don't say it...PROGRESS?

Running has never come naturally to me. I'm not built for it.

I have a friend who is also a triathlete and she's built like a gizelle. I saw her recently and she suggested going for a bonding run together and I danced around the idea because her legs come up to my navel. I said, "nah, I'm a really slow runner -- I wouldn't want to ruin your run." She countered with,"don't worry, I recently broke my foot...I'm running slower than I ever have. I'm sure we're well matched." Upon which time it was determined that her running pace with a broken appendage was still two minutes/mile faster than my tempo runs. That was a fun exercise in abject embarassment.

So, I'm just not built for speed.

Just by way of example, I am 5'4" tall (which is mighty short when the peanut butter is on the top shelf) and manage to pack 170 pounds into that frame. But even at that weight, I'm still a size 10/12. My point? I'm built more like a lumberjack than a lady. Maybe a lady lumberjack.

So running is that necessary evil tacked onto the end of a triathlon that I try not to suck so horribly at that I lose any momentum gained in the water and on the bike. Operable word: "try."

But I may have had a little encouraging news this weekend. I did my long run (turned out to be 1:24) on Sunday and stayed in my proscribed heart rate zones. Me and 155 were close friends for the entire Struble trail and then some. And since my Garmin will soon be going back to Garmin for a little tune up (it's a wee bit broken), I was relying on my new Nike HRM. Point? No pacing information...just ticker info.

I got home, showered, and got ready for Super Bowl festivities. But before heading out, I checked my distance on gmap and LO' AND BEHOLD my pace was considerably different this week.

Compared to my prior long runs in low Zone 2, I was running 0:45 seconds/mile faster.

Um...

YEAH!

For the first time in forever, my long run was out of the 12:00/mile range and solidly in the 11:00/mile neighborhood!

And...AND...so far the Elf and I have been focusing on developing my swim and bike base, more so than my run base. (Not that the running shoes are ignored, don't you worry!) So this is progress (I'm assuming) through the accumulated benefits of building muscle through lifting, building an aerobic base with lots of cycling, newly developed core strength, and keeping on top of my running, too.

Whhhheeeeee!

Why bother?

If you're anything like me, you're just learning about what benefits there are to training with heart rate zones. For me, I never used to use them because I never bothered to do the benchmark test to get the right zones. Everything seemed (and would have been!) silly without that.

So the HR strap and Garmin collected dust in the closet.

But, now that I'm working with the Elf, I've taken the steps to test myself and get those elusive zones. Painful? A little. Useful? More than I ever knew.

But seriously...

...what's the point?

What's it all about? Why bother?

If you've ever asked yourself that question...like in the last day or so, maybe...then check out this article on the Multisport Mastery website (Elf's company). It makes an awful lot of sense to me!

Of Finding Passion and Risky Behavior...In the Pool?

Unlike many, the swimming part of triathlon didn't terrify me. I was more distracted by the running distances, since I knew they were far flung from my normal plod-around-the-local-U that I was used to.

But the swimming made some sense to me. First: get in the pool. Second: swim freestyle (or some approximation thereof) for as far as you can muster. Third: get out of the pool and try not to trip on the way back to the locker room.

Easypeasy, right?

Ah, the chuckles I get from this.

Because OF COURSE it went nothing like that. When I first started swimming, I was an awkward ball of nerves, with my attention closer on whether the suit I was wearing made me look like an idiot and whether I was going horribly slow compared to the person next to me. The senior next to me. There was a lot of thrashing and meaningful, serious glances at the big clock on the wall.

At first, I was following a plan that was focused simply on distances. One day would have a 200 warm up, 3x200 at "moderate" pace, some kicking laps, and a cool down.

Looking back, all I can think is...boooooooring.

It wasn't a waste of time. I think if you asked any coach, they would say time in the water isn't wasted time, especially at the beginning of your relationship with the pool. So, my pace started getting better and my confidence in the pool certainly increased. I stopped pulling at my bathingsuit and started wondering what a pull buoy was. And soon, as the road began to lead to Ironman, I started working off of plans that were more intricate -- special drills focusing on form and finishing ladders "on" certain numbers. I started wearing a watch to the pool and feel more in command of myself there.

It was all very exciting and I was building some strength in the pool.

But still, I wondered whether this was really what turned people on in the pool. I read a lot of bloggers posting about killer workouts they had in the pool and I didn't really feel like that. Don't get me wrong -- the days when I would top off 4200 yards in one effort were amazing. I don't think distances like that will ever get old.

But I was bored with my work there, and it showed in my effort. I would cut things short or skip cool downs. I just didn't have my heart IN it anymore. Nothing was new to me there -- it was just a different combination of numbers that I had to get through so I wouldn't drown at my next race. I had plateaued on my times, and was at a loss as to how to get faster. So I maintained and slugged it out.

Recently, though, I've found a new passion for the pool. And this has lead to some risky behavior. Or maybe it's reversed. Let me explain.

It coincided with my coach entering the scene, but it wasn't just because of the Elf's influence. It was because I decided that I would start challenging myself in all the three disciplines this coming year.

I would start actually pushing myself in a way that had escaped me before. No longer was it about getting through the distances. I had already felt what 2.5 miles in the water felt like, I already knew how loudly my knees screamed on a half mary trail run, and how my tail end threatened secession after the 90th mile on the bike. For some reason, I think I needed to get those experiences out of the way first.

But it was time for a challenge. CHALLENGE, in all caps.

So part of my goal to challenge myself for '08 was to pick a coach who was creative, enthusiastic, and very experienced. Well, duh. That was the easiest part. But then to follow each and every thing she told me to do.

So. I did the dolphin kick drills when she told me. I figured out what "IM" meant and became less afraid of each of the strokes. I looked up what drills were supposed to look like on goswim.tv and mimicked what I saw. I watched youtube vids over and over again to see exactly what the hand was doing at every point, what the elbows look like. I went out and got myself my first set of paddles and figured out how to use them. I learned to kick without a board to develop balance and I no longer get water up my nose when I'm backstroking (although I do tend to bump into lane markers when I'm not paying attention!).

They are all little things. All little things.

But they are making a huge difference for me in the water. No...I'm not fast yet. I'm not swimming IMs in the local swim meets and, no, I still don't impress that one guy who comes to the pool and effortlessly swims 10 stroke freestyle lengths.

No. But there is a major difference now.

I look forward to swimming. I get excited when I have a cool set in the pool with something new I've never tried before. Now I finish my collection of 2500 meters in my little lane and wonder where the time went. I kid you not.

Everything I do in the pool is looked at in a new way. No longer do I slug through 6x300s at a "moderate" tempo (what the heck is "moderate" anyway?). Now my 300s are a mixture of paddles and polo swimming (with your head out of the water), sighting practice, and different breathing patterns.

And I've actually done the dreaded FLY stroke...in public...and lived to tell the tale. Had I not tried it, I never would have known what a great core workout it was, nor would I have used those other back muscles that get left out when all of the freestyle fun is going on.

But more so, had I not tried something so far out of my normal routine, I never would have felt like a swimmer. Like a real, honest to goodness swimmer.

Each time I hit the water, I have a goal. Often I have something new to try, or at least an interesting combination of skills I already have. And I never leave bored or wondering why I even came.

All because I decided, with my coach, that this was the year to try something new. To push the envelope and really sculpt myself into an athlete.

I used to be an athletic person who participated in a lot of athletic endeavors.

Now, I consider myself an athlete. Because pushing limits is what athletes do. And that's what I do now.

So...with that said...I thought I'd include an example of one of my workouts, prepared by her majesty, Queen of the Elfen forest. Even though I no longer make my specific workouts public (it's the Elf's work, after all!), I think sharing this may inspire others to get out there and try some new things in the pool.

Wed, Jan 2

Warm Up
300 swim
3 x 100 kick (50 dolphin kick on back no board, 50 free kick with board)

Drill Set
10 x 50 Distance/stroke drill (count strokes for first 25, drop 1-2 for return 25)(ri:10)

Main Set
4 x 400 on 9:00
#1 - swim freestyle, every 4th length done as backstroke
#2 - swim freestyle, every 4th done as FAST
#3 - pull with paddles, breath every 3 for first 50, every 5 for next 50, repeat
#4 - swim with flip turns* OR streamline kick off of each wall push off (hands clasped, tucked between arms, and KICK to flags before taking first breath)

* see? this is what I mean. I've never done a flip turn. Alright...not since I was, like, ten years old. Next Tuesday? I'm doing flip turns. No matter how intimidating they are, I'm doing them. Scary and fun, all at the same time. Like scun, or fary. Or whatever.

Cool Down
200 swim easy

It's not as scary as you'd think and the rewards are HUGE! Go, try it, be creative. Take a risk. I promise it will be rewarding!

Communicable

I seem to have contracted something.

I may have picked it up at the pool. Or somewhere on my handlebars of the bike. Could it have been in my stinky Asics?

Or maybe, just maybe, in that pile of athletic gear in the bottom of that special hamper in the guest room.

But I definitely caught something.

I'll tell you how I know. Just now I was typing away on the computer in a nice little email to the Elf, trying to convince her to let me double up on sessions this week to make up for a sick day yesterday. Who does that?

Me, apparently.

You see, I've been jonezing for this week.

9 and 1/2 hours of training.

BIG swim sessions, labeled as sets that "real" swimmers do. Intervals on my runs for the first time using my new zones. Efficiency drills on the bike and -- dare I say it -- a big solid brick to cap it off on Sunday.

I've been waiting for this week to start the moment it was posted up on my Training Peaks account. And yesterday I was stuck at home sick. In bed. For hours upon hours. Bored by 9:30 and brain dead from television by noon.

And tonight I was in the pool and -- even though I asked before I touched the water where I could swim uninterrupted and I was careful to check the schedule ahead of time [I'm just saying!] -- I was unceremoniously bounced by the obnoxious coach of the tiny tots learning backstroke.

And now I'm itching. I'm feeling PHYSICALLY ANXIOUS that I can't go get back in the pool tonight to finish the set. How's that for all caps! And I'm already packed and ready for tomorrow's adventures. And I've already cleared the schedule for the rest of the week's needs, moving holiday shopping out of the way of running blocks and making sure tree trimming doesn't conflict with the brick.

For all of the training I have done in the last three years, it wasn't until now that I have contracted it.

The itch. The itch. The one that renews your vigor every day and let's you dream of strong strides across the finish line. The one that lets you appreciate feeling like you can go forever even after an hour in the pool. The one that just sits there under your skin so you never need any reminder why you love to train.

You just do. Because.

Just because.

And I have it, under my skin and it itches. In such an amazing way.

Welcome to The Next Step

When I started "working out" a few years back, it was when I was in HORRENDOUS shape and completely clueless about my body and how to help it. It was ridiculously hard to finish a mile and I remember -- vividly -- the day that I managed to run the entire route around our local university (exactly one mile). I called Mighty M on the phone. We had just met. Online, no less. And I gushed about my one mile victory.

He got it, and that's why I let him stick around since then. (wink)

And, if you've been reading about my little journey this past year, you know that I kept at the running thing until I could do longer runs. And then I started to swim, even though I greatly resembled an orca in distress. And then there was the bike. I -- again, vividly -- remember the first ride I took. It was 7 miles around my Dad's neighborhood and ended in a gut wrenching hill. I stopped twice on the way up and thought I was going to pass out.

It's been quite a road.

I've been caught saying that my first year of triathlon was about learning about the sport (although that never ends, right?) and my second year was about trying different distances and raising important money. And, you already know my intentions for this year. But what you don't know is how I'm going to get there.

HERE'S HOW...

I've teamed up with one of the most impressive racers AND bloggers I know. Okay, okay, I don't know a lot of racers, but her top ten age group finish in Kona...(yes, I said K-O-N-A)...speaks volumes. And I *do* know a lot of bloggers and she has my seal of approval for being one of the best dang writers out there.

And she loves coffee as much as I do. Possibly more. Which scares me a little.

And for some unknown reason [because I'm hot stuff] she's been willing to coach me.

Wittle Owd Me.

No kidding.

Starting November 1st, I'm back in training kids. In fact, it's probably more accurate to say that starting November 1st I'm finally in training. Last year I patched things together and borrowed from books and practically used a magic ball to figure out my training. Did it get me somewhere? Sure.

But I've got some plans for next year, folks. Some big plans. As in 3 half iron plans. Booyah.

I want to be the biggest baddest Athena I know. I want to be strong and focused and perform at this fantastic sport. I want to stop expending energy in THINKING about how to construct a plan, and spend more time DOING.

And the Elf will get me there.

Yup, you heard me. My coach is The Elf.

Bitchin' ... I. Know.

And, yes, it will likely hurt. I mean, seriously...have you read any of her stuff? This chick is a mah-chine! I've already talked to a friend of mine (another one of her budding triathletes) and she said the same thing. Kick. My. Arse.

But it's a good pain, right? Riiiiight... .

So, I'm stocking up on my Clif Bloks and Asics socks, I'm picking up my new bike from the shop, brushing off my dusty Garmin, and searching for my gym ID. It's going to a long and careful ride from here to my first half (ahem...in early MAY?? how cool is that!) and I'm stupid excited to see what it's like with an honest to goodness superstar in my corner.

I finally have the tools, peeps. Now let's see what I can do with them...