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Porta Potties, Bumpy Roads & Lots O’ Hills

Image200 miles of uphill battles, dusty roads, oncoming traffic, nasty porta potties, roaming cows & horses, stinky teammates, greasy hair, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, bumpy roads, honks & shouts, high fives, sleepless hours & baby wipes.  That’s pretty much what you get if you decide to do a relay.  Fun stuff.  Really.

It started like any other day.  Well, more like my Mondays when I have to get up at 4:30 AM except this time I had to get up at 4:00 AM.  I took a shower, but I wasn’t sure why I was even bothering.  I guess I just wanted to smell good for a few hours.  We packed ourselves into the van and headed north to Fort Collins.  I only knew one person on my team of 12, but that would soon change…

Our team was split into two groups.  Six of us in each van.  The six of us would be together for the next 30 hours… living in that van.  If you want to get to know someone, then spend 30 hours with them in a van.  The name of our awesome team: Kicking Assphalt!  Our van was soon decorated with stick figures of 6 people running through the mountains and a window dedicated to “road kill” (the # of people passed).  

 Our first runner was off!  The first few hours seemed like any other day of running a race.  You got out and did your best (which for most people means pushing yourself as hard as you can).  We each took our turn as the day started getting hotter and the elevation started getting higher.  My run was relatively uneventful with the exception of the dust in my mouth and the bull that gave me an evil eye as I ran past his calves (please note that there was NO fence separating me and this bull).  I looked ahead and I looked back, but there was no one around to save me from a charging bull.  I kept going and hoped for the best.  Then I met a cow down the road who also gave me the evil eye and started moo’ing at me.  It didn’t take long for all of the other cows in the field started moo’ing.  I was getting a tad nervous so I tried to run faster up the hill.  

Much to my relief I made it to the highway without getting charged.  I reached the crossing guard and had to stop.  I looked back and saw an old man runner (okay, maybe he wasn’t that old) running towards me.  The competitiveness in me suddenly surfaced and I jetted across the highway as soon as I was given the green light (by the crossing guard).  Of course I was faced with another freakin’ hill and my strength was weakening.  Then I heard his voice behind me: “Take me home” he said.  That made me visualize some scary movie, but I became more annoyed than scared.  I was so annoyed in fact that I started sprinting to the exchange (my finish point where I tag the next runner).  I crossed the road without waiting for the crossing guard to give me the okay (well, I had actually misinterpreted his waving flag as the okay… but I said “sorry” and he was cool with it).  I sprinted as fast as I could and high fived my teammate before that old man could even make it across the parking lot.  That’s what you get dude!  

Since I was runner #6, our van was inactive for the next few hours while the other half of our team was out on the course.  I was relieved to see that our exchange point had a church that was offering food and its bathrooms.  Real bathrooms!  I was able to wipe down with paper towels and baby wipes, change into clean clothes and sit inside an air conditioned building to eat my lunch.  We were living in luxury (for about an hour).  Then we decided that we should head to the next exchange point where we will meet the other van in a few hours.  It was a church, but we were not invited inside.  I grabbed my sleeping bag and tried to take a snooze on the grass, but that didn’t really work out.  

The next thing I knew it was time to head out onto the course again!  

To be continued…

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The August Challenge!

The perfect fuel for my relay! Vegan banana protein bars!

The perfect fuel for my relay! Vegan banana protein bars!

Where have I been?  Not on my blog obviously.  It has been a busy summer of travelling around and I enjoyed every minute of it.  However, I am very thankful to be home and hopefully I will be able to get back into my regular workout routine (and blogging of course!).

Yes, I am in training mode.  I can’t go too long without training for something.  Goals are important.  Without goals I would be lost.  Without goals I would get lazy and sit on the couch all day.  August is a busy month for accomplishing goals.  Tomorrow I set sail on the goal of completing my first relay… 200 miles through the mountains.  I think I will spend about 19 miles with my feet actually hitting the pavement (or dirt) while the rest of the 181 miles will be spent in a van.  The more I think about it, the less fun it sounds.  Oh well, at I will be able to check “relay” off my bucket list.

Since my friend talked me into spending 2 days living out of a van (sleeping bags, too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, porta potties, stinky socks, etc.), I decided to talk her into doing a triathlon.  She hesitated for a bit, but eventually agreed.  Not sure if she is happy with her decision, but she isn’t the type to give up.  So, that sprint triathlon is scheduled for this month.  Not only did I talk my friend into doing a triathlon, but I also managed to talk my 9-year old daughter into doing one.  Score!  I was elated, but then I was curious about her motive so I asked her if SHE really wanted to do it and wasn’t doing it because momma wanted her to do it.  When she said that SHE wanted to do it, then I was able to jump for joy and take her for a ride on her bike.

But that’s not all.  My biggest August challenge is focused on my diet.  I have decided to go dairy free for the whole month of August.  And no, I am not following a vegan diet.  I will call this Heidi’s feel good diet.  I just want to find out if I will feel better without dairy.  Dairy is known to cause inflammation so maybe I can hone my body down a bit and create more energy (since I am lacking in that department). I am not trying to lose weight.  I am not trying to follow a fad.  I am just trying to feel better.  My diet will still include seafood and eggs (I am only a tad crazy… not that crazy).

Going dairy free is much harder than it appears.  I already have some tools of the trade because my husband is lactose intolerant.  However, after reading a few labels at the grocery store last night I realized that some kind of dairy (milk, whey, casein, etc.) is in almost everything!  Even in most bread!  I won’t go overboard, but there are a few vegan options I am willing to try.  However, if someone cooks the potatoes in butter I won’t have a fit.  We shall see how I feel at the end of August.  I will probably be craving a pizza with extra cheese.

Good luck to me (and to my family who has to put up with me)!

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Post Race Blues

Today's ride was slow, but at least there was a view.

Today’s ride was slow, but at least there was a view.

First there was nervousness.  Then there was misery.  Next came pure euphoria.  Now all that’s left is a bit of depression.

Post race blues are actually pretty common.  I was just talking to my friend the other day who finished her first marathon the day after I finished my first 70.3.  She said she was having a rough week because everything seemed a bit off.  When I mentioned “post race blues” she considered this and admitted that it suited just how she was feeling.  I told her that I completely understood what she was feeling.

The day after a big race all you want to do it slump on the couch and stuff your face with vittles that you didn’t dare touch during the week leading up to the race.  For me, it was pizza, chips and chocolate.  I felt like I had earned a little splurge.  Then I kept eating the same amount of food I was consuming during my training phase.  I still felt so hungry for some reason even though I wasn’t burning any where near the same number of calories.  I realized that I had to cut back on my food intake and that made me depressed.

The DOMS (delayed onset muscles soreness) lasted a couple of days.  It made perfect sense to take a complete day off on Sunday (the day after my race).  However, on Monday I wasn’t quite sure what to do.  I really didn’t want to rest.  I really felt a NEED to go out and get moving.  So, I decided to do a semi-workout.  I loaded up the girls in the jogging stroller and hobbled/walked/jogged for about 2 miles.  Every time I started jogging I thought that maybe I was an idiot. That made me depressed.  Every time I walked I would see someone run by.  That made me depressed.  I just decided to go home and cry.

When Tuesday rolled around I was set to head to the gym (because that is what I do every Tuesday).  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do at the gym, but I was determined to get there.  The DOMS appeared to be wearing off so I decided to run on the treadmill.  I only ran.  There was no walking involved.  Then I decided to go for a swim.  I tried to tell myself that I didn’t need to do more than one workout, but my mind was still in double/triple workout per day mode.  So, I just decided to do a short 30 minute easy swim.

Hello Wednesday!  I couldn’t go too long without getting on the bike (I mean, I did used to take a ride at least 3 times per week before the race).  I opted for a flat route (good choice) and settled for a one hour ride.  I tried to tell myself to go slow.  I tried to tell myself to just enjoy the scenery.  I couldn’t.  I tried to pass as many cyclists as I could.  Then I was left wondering why I felt so tired at the end of the day.  I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to go to bed early or why I didn’t feel so energetic.

Yes, then there was Thursday.  Once I again I grabbed the jogging stroller (along with 75 pounds of weight) and headed out for 5 miles of pure running.  I was feeling great at the turnaround point and then my running started to get slower and slower.  I kept wondering what had happened to my running libido. That made me sad.

Okay Friday.  If you insist.  I took the day off.  That made me depressed.

I was hoping to run with my running group on Saturday morning, but I had to work.  Therefore, I decided to hit the trail early and run 6 miles.  That was my long run for the week.  I figured it wasn’t too bad.  After I reached the 3-mile mark and turned around, I realized that I had been running slightly uphill for the first 3 miles.  That made me smile.

Sunday.  Once again I couldn’t go too long without getting on that bike.  And no, I didn’t choose a flat route.  I chose a very hilly route.  Yeah, brilliant.

I feel kind of lost.  I don’t have a training plan.  I am not signed up for a race, but I do spend many hours browsing through active.com.  I have been contemplating my next move.  I think that once I sign up for a new race that my post race blues will disappear.  Hopefully.

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70.3 Achieved!

HITS Half Triathlon Grand Junction, CO

HITS Half Triathlon Grand Junction, CO

Yesterday morning I was feeling a tad miserable, but today the euphoria has set in (along with the DOMS).  Okay, I wasn’t completely miserable.  There was some laughing, crying and holding conversations with myself.  I was in my own mind for a little over 6 hours so there really isn’t too much else to do if you want to forget about the burning in your calves, the cramp in your neck, the chaffing in your armpits or the aching in your hip.

I felt good right before the race started.  For the first time ever, I had adequate sleep the night before a race.  I forced oatmeal, peanut butter, a bagel and a banana down my throat.  I had spare time to calm myself before the start.  Then I suddenly had no time.  I didn’t get a chance to take a quick swim or get my goggles right.  For some reason they weren’t fitting like they had been during yesterday’s quick swim in the lake.  Of course.  It was time to go and I was still fighting with my goggles.  Then I was arguing with my mind who started saying that it was going to be flight, not fight.  I suddenly was worried that I didn’t know how to swim.  The buoys were sooooo far away.  I had a panick attack that lasted about 5 minutes.  People were swimming away from me and I was still stuck in place.  Instead of waiting to screw it all up, I told myself to get moving.  My body eventually listened and I started swimming just like I knew how.

It felt like a very long swim.  A never-ending swim.  I must have ingested about a gallon of lake water and crashed into about 10 other swimmers (but at least I knew there were other swimmers around and I hadn’t fallen all of the way behind).  I focused on getting from one buoy to the next.  I was so grateful when I turned back towards shore that I started swimming like I should have been all along.  My clumsy body dragged itself out of the water and nearly fell over as I tried to find my land legs.  Strippers were waiting on the shore (um, not those kind of strippers… these ones are there to take off your clothes… or rather your wetsuit).  One person pulled off my wetsuit in a mere 5 seconds and I was off to get on my bike.

The first half of the ride was rather uneventful (thankfully).  I felt so great that I worked it.  Yeah, I probably worked it too much.  But people were still passing me.  At least I was happy to think “hey, I must have beat you in the swim… thank goodness I wasn’t the last one out!”  It didn’t take long for my legs to get tired.  Okay, they were on fire.  I turned onto a new road.  My new least favorite road ever.  A road that goes up an incline for 10 miles.  Yes, I am serious.  About a medium incline all the way up.  My legs were really on fire by the time I made it up fighting the wind the whole way.  You will not believe how happy I was to see the turnaround point.  I knew that meant downhill for 10 miles!  It was a fast 10 miles!  But of course things can never be so easy.  I had to go uphill again (fighting the wind again) for the last 5 miles. Those 5 miles seemed to last an eternity.  I couldn’t wait to be done even if it meant running 13.1 miles.

I hopped off that bike and starting running.  Um, why does it feel like I am running at snail pace?  My legs were pure jello.  It took me about a mile to get them working right (after having to climb a few steep hills).  I came to the crest of the third hill only to be blasted with 20 mph winds.  OMG.  Really?  I have to run in this crazy wind with jello legs?  I just decided to dream about my last half-marathon I completed this past winter.  I thought about how wonderful it is to run a half marathon when you don’t have to first swim 1.2 miles and bike 56 miles.  Oh, those were the good old days.

Those positive thoughts (or maybe my many years of running experience) must have helped because I totally kicked butt on that run.  I met those people who passed me in the swim or on the bike.  They became tiny objects in my rearview mirror.  Sure, I couldn’t get them all, but I sure as heck tried.  I willed my legs to stay strong and do what they do best: run.  That was my proudest moment throughout this whole race.  I am proud to call myself a runner!  Thank goodness I became a runner before I decided to become a triathlete.  But I do know what I need to do now in order to become a better triathlete (swimming in a lake would be one of the obvious things).

I finally saw the finish line.  I tried so hard not to slow down.  In that last half a mile I passed at least 6 other people.  I was soooo ready to be done!  I pumped my arms into the air and crossed over that magical line.  Someone handed me a medal while someone else took off my timing chip (since there was no way I could be bothered to bend over and do it).  I continued walking.  And I walked some more.  Then I stopped to pee.  Yes folks, I hadn’t peed for over 6 hours.  I knew I had that kind of stamina for a marathon, but now I know I can last a whole half ironman!

I continued walking because my body didn’t seem to want to quiet down.  As soon as I stopped I felt a sudden urge to throw up.  I felt worse than I ever did during the whole race!  I was okay after about a half an hour. I had to force down half a bagel and then lay in the grass for a few minutes.  I started thinking about how I never wanted to do that ever again.  I feel differently today.  I wish I could go for a run right now, but my legs aren’t working right.

My official time was 6:19:21.  I came in 6th in my age group (and for some reason they had me in 35-39… I didn’t realize my birthday came 2 weeks early this year… I guess it doesn’t matter much because I would have been 5th in the 30-34 group).  I came in 151 overall for the swim, 135 overall for the bike and 67 overall for the run.  I guess that really makes it obvious that running is my strength!

It took me about 2 hours to recover enough in order to make the 4 hour drive home.  If only my drive home could have been as uneventful as the race.  I had to drive through a snow storm!  Ironically, we had just taken off the snow tires 3 days earlier.  I also had to stop every hour to stretch my legs (yes, I was out in 32 degree weather wearing shorts and a t-shirt).  Finally I made it home!

And to my surprise, I walked in to find a few of my friends gathered in the living room.  My most amazing husband had gathered them together to celebrate my accomplishment.  It was the greatest feeling and I am so thankful to have supportive family and friends.  They have always been there to push me along.  From my first day of learning how to rock climb all the way to my first half ironman.  Don’t worry though, the story isn’t over yet.

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Race Anxiety

Crossing the finish line of my last triathlon.

Crossing the finish line of my last triathlon.

What do I wear?  What will the weather be like?  How do I taper?  What should I eat?  What are the rules?  Oh my, I am losing my mind!

This is me when race anxiety sets in.  I can’t seem to make any decisions and I suddenly have a hundred questions that I don’t know the answer to.  A running race is a bit more tolerable.  I only have one discipline to worry about.  One event.  All I have to do is run.  Not now.  Now I have to swim, bike AND run.  AND I have to figure out how to move from one to the next.  AND I have to figure out how to sustain energy for 6 to 7 hours.

I don’t know why I suddenly feel overwhelmed.  I have been running for 7 years.  I have been cycling and swimming for a year and a half.  I have finished 2 short triathlons.  I have run over 2 dozen races.  I have been training for this specific race for over 4 months!

It is called “race anxiety” folks.  Most people have it.  Newbies have it and experienced athletes have it.  Even Olympians have it.  This just happens to be my biggest bout of race anxiety to date.  This is my longest, hardest race ever.  I always thought Goofy’s Race and a Half Challenge would be my most difficult race.  Nope.  I always seem to strive for a challenge greater than the last.

Now I drive people crazy with my nerves.  I can’t even talk without stumbling over my own words.  This triathlon seems to be on my mind 24/7.  I think about each workout leading up to the race.  Then I change my mind about what workout to do on what day.  Then I change my mind about how long the workout should be.  Then I change my mind about the intensity of the workout.  Yesterday I went for my last longish run: 8 miles.  But it turned to 6 miles as I was running because I couldn’t make up my mind about whether I should push myself or back off.  I finally took the smarter option, but the answer didn’t arrive until I reached the 3-mile turn around point.

I have seriously read about 10 articles about how to taper for a half ironman and each article said something totally different.  All that did was feed my anxiety.  I still haven’t made up my mind about what I am doing this week…. 5 days before the race.  I don’t know if I am going to completely rest before race day or if I am going to jog a few miles and take a dip in the lake.  I tried to look back in my fitness journal to get some answers, but that didn’t help.  Some days I felt good doing a tough workout the day after an easy workout and some days I felt like crap.  There was no logic to my crappy days nor was there any logic to my good days.

As I write up my gear checklist I have to think about all of the possibilities.  Will it suddenly be a typical Colorado wacky day and turn to 30 degrees?  Or will the weather decide to kill me with 80 degree temps that my body has no idea how to handle?  Will I need to pull on pants and a long sleeve shirt during the transition or can I just slip off my wetsuit and call it good?

What if my bike suddenly falls apart or gets a flat tire?  Will I know how to deal with the stress or will I fall apart and start sobbing right there in the middle of the course?  Should I grab food at the aid stations and risk crashing my bike into an innocent bystander or should I try to stash as much fuel as I can on my bike?  Will I even be able to eat enough, stay hydrated and perfectly ph balanced?  Or will I crash my bike as I try to steer and avoid other cyclists while opening my gel packet?

What if I get too close to another cyclist?  Will I be able to pass another cyclist fast enough to not get penalized?  Will I get annoyed with backing off my speed if cyclists are always passing me and I am unable to go faster?  Am I confident enough about my cycling abilities to not get stuck behind a large crowd?

Will my legs fall off as I start to run?  Should I wear my fuel belt or just rely on the water and fuel stations? Since I know my half marathon pace like the back of my hand, will I get frustrated when I can’t maintain my normal pace?  Will the sun beat down on me and force me to move at a turtle’s pace?

Whew!  I think it helped me just to vent all of that.  Those questions have been going through my mind for the last week.  I don’t expect anyone to answer them because I know I just have to figure it all out on my own.  I never expected my first half marathon to go perfectly so why should I expect my first half ironman to go perfectly?  We can’t learn from anything until we experience it.  There will be setbacks, but there will be successes.  It should be about the journey and not the destination, but sometimes the competitive spirit can only focus on the destination.  However, that can lead to great disappointment.

Today someone said something that really stuck with me.  A coach I met in my class told me that the destination should be viewed as the celebration of all of the hard work that has already been accomplished.  That’s right.  I have done all of the work.  I have been disciplined and dedicated.  I have pushed myself.  I have believed in myself.  Now, it is time to celebrate.  (At least this is what I keep telling myself, but my driven nature seems to keep rearing its ugly head and I revert back to panic mode).