SOMA Race Report: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

WARNING: Really really LONG race report.

Race day, God sent me a reality check. I think I was getting just a little TOO confident with all my recent running PRs, and it was time for a reminder that I'm still a newbie to this whole triathlon thing. Not that I was expecting to place in this race, but I did have some high expectations for myself, and despite knowing better, I had begun to focus more on time goals than on my original (and most important) goal of finishing the race in and of itself.

Suffice it to say, I finished. Check that one off the list. But not in what I would consider Big Dawg, JFT² fashion. Rather than finishing strong, I limped in, whipped and dejected. More on how I got there follows…

The day started off as planned. We woke at 4 am (wow, that's early) to eat some PB&J sandwiches. Add to that a ½ banana and some water & Heed, a shower, and last minute gear checks, and it was time to head down to race start in the dark. Luckily, the guys at Red Rock Co put on a great race – the transition area was extremely well lit and humming with activity. When we'd racked our bikes the day before, each athlete's area on the racks was clearly marked with the bib number, so it was obvious where your area was. I dropped the rest of my gear in my spot, and went to one of the myriad of volunteers doing body marking throughout the transition area. Then it was back to my spot to lay everything out and get my wetsuit on (at least halfway). The only hitch to the whole pre-race routine was that they ended up clearing the transition before any of the waves started. Maybe this is the way it always works (like I said, I'm new to this whole tri thing) but since I was in the last wave (which was easily 25 minutes after the first wave), I wasn't really planning on needing to be out of transition before they could start the race. This put me on edge a little bit, but I pretty much had my gear laid out and my bike was ready to go, so I grabbed my goggles and swim cap and headed to the swim start.

Jason and I had done the test swim on Saturday, so I knew what to expect from the swim entry and exit, and the water. The water temp was fine (they said it was 68) but the water itself was kinda gnarly. Dirty and green, but I tried not to think about it. The swim had a floating start – each wave would enter off the swim bleachers (about 4 foot steps, with about a 30" rise), and then swim about 30 yards to the east where the start buoys were. Each wave started 3 minutes apart, with the Quarterman men and women waves going first, followed by the 6 Half Ironman waves. Jason was in the first Half IM wave, I was in the last. I was able to see him in the water and blew him a kiss, and then they were gone. I struck up a conversation with some of the other athletes in my wave around me, and tried to relax for my wave.

Before I knew it, we were climbing onto the bleachers, and dropping into the water. It wasn't cold, and I started making my way to the swim start. I felt calm and relaxed – but tried to stay towards the back of the group. Soon, the gun went off, and it was time to go. I don't really know exactly what happened from here, but it went south pretty quickly. I know I got dunked at least once (I think I was swum over) and knocked and bumped repeatedly. I had a terrible time finding any open water, and I couldn't catch my breath. I was breathing every other stroke, and struggling. At some point before even the first buoy, I decided I should just flip over on my back and try to calm down. I'm not sure if this was a good idea or a bad idea, but from that point forward it seemed like I spent more time on my back than on my stomach. The rest of the swim was a blur of just trying to get it done – and it got progressively worse. I never got to the point of even being able to breathe bi-laterally with any consistency (I just couldn't hold my breath for even 3 strokes) and the more I breathed on one side, the more crooked I swam. I couldn't catch my breath at all, and on every exhale I could hear my chest rattling as if it were full of congestion. On at least a couple of occasions, I noticed the kayaks starting to head my way to make sure I was ok. I flipped on to my back at least a dozen times (I think) and even at the end, rounding the final buoy with only 50 meters to go, I couldn't swim freestyle or even breast stroke (I just couldn't get enough breath) but had to flip on my back and double backstroke in. I felt horrible, desperate, pathetic. I wanted it to be over. Thanks again to great race organization, there were plenty of volunteers on the swim bleachers to help athletes out of the water. I had two pairs of hands grabbing my arms and pulling me up each step. Since I was so far back in the swim (being the last wave, too) there were far more volunteers than athletes, so I'd barely gotten on to the pavement and hadn't even found my zipper when I was grabbed by two wet suit strippers.

"Are you okay?" I nodded – "I'm fine"

"Give me your goggles" one ordered me – the next thing I knew, my suit was off my top. They grabbed my arms – "sit down on your butt" on the ground I went, and off came my wet suit. They grabbed my arms again, pulled me up, handed me my suit, goggles and cap and pushed me towards transition. I started moving in the right direction – I wouldn't call it walking, I wouldn't call it running. I was just glad to be done with the swim.

The transition area was full of volunteers directing traffic. I found my bike, toweled off as best I could, grabbed my helmet, glasses, pump, socks, shoes – Wow, that was the worst swim of my life – I kept thinking. Okay, shake it off – time to ride.

I started jogging with my bike toward the bike exit – "Careful on the cement" someone yelled. I made it out to the bike mount area, climbed on, and just tried to focus on bringing my heart rate down, calming down, and working on my nutrition.

It was hard – I felt like I was so far behind because of my swim – it was hard to think about just relaxing and riding – especially with the pros and age groupers whipping past me as they began their second, or maybe even 3^rd lap. The bike course was 3 loops, so I knew I was going to get passed quite a bit by the faster folks. Still, it was hard not to feel like I was going too slow when they passed me buy. The first part of the ride went basically uneventfully – I still had a hard time catching my breath, was coughing, and my nose was running like crazy. I tried to start drinking some water about 15 minutes into the ride, and started sipping on my 1^st bottle of Sustained Energy after about 25 minutes. The nutrition was tough going – my stomach was in knots from the swim, and putting anything in wasn't helping matters. The first loop went by quickly – I estimated just over an hour – but I looked down and realized that I hadn't been drinking enough of my nutrition, and I'd forgotten all about my Endurolytes. I downed a bunch of Endurolytes at the start of the 2^nd loop, and that went over like a ton of bricks in my stomach. At least I had the entertainment to see one of the male age groupers standing on the side of the road, hanging it all out for everyone to see, peeing. Nice.

Lap two went similarly. I saw a LOT of people changing tires on the side of the road during this ride – I just kept pleading "please no flat tires, I've had a bad enough day already" and that seemed to work. I felt like I was regaining some sense of control during the bike – I was riding well and maintaining a reasonable heart rate. Probably slightly higher than I should have, but still within what I was thinking was reasonable. My stomach wasn't getting any better though, and I continued to have problems breathing. Every time I took a deep breath, I went into coughing fits, which only made my stomach hurt more. It was easier if I just kept my breathing shallow. I was consciously thinking about getting my nutrition in, but was having a tough time doing it. I knew I should have been finished with my first bottle of Sustained Energy by mid-way through the 2^nd loop, but I was having a tough time. Finally at about mile 32, I ditched the remaining bit at a bottle drop (I'd probably gotten about 300 calories in, at best from that), and switched to my bottle of Heed.

The Heed at least tasted better. The third lap came and I started trading places with a 19 year old woman on the bike. We just kept jack-rabbitting on the straight away – she would pass me, and then I would find myself only about a bike length behind her, so then I knew I had to either pass her or fall back. I finally passed her for good at about mile 46. A couple miles later, I tried to choke down a Raspberry Hammer gel – I got about 2/3 of it in, before I couldn't stand it anymore. That and the ½ bottle of Heed I'd been able to get in brought my caloric intake to about 450 (if that), as opposed to the 600+ I should have taken in on the bike. My stomach was cramped (I could feel it as I tried to stretch out in my aero bars) but I tried to convince myself as I was finishing the bike that the run was going to be AWESOME.

So much for positive self-talk! J I got into transition, and had to weave my way around the Quarterman athletes beginning to clear their bikes & gear out of transition. Helmet off, hat on, change shoes, grab the fuel belt & race belt. Oops – porta potty stop. Try as I might to do the "triathlete thing" and pee on the bike, I couldn't do it, so the stop in transition was necessary. Tie shoes, grab belts on and go. Or try to go.

"Stay to the left" the volunteers yelled – I was joining the stream of runners who were rounding the corner and beginning their 2^nd lap, as I was starting my first. Ick. I made it about 25 yards before I made the fateful decision to drop my fuel belt. With my stomach in knots already, I wasn't sure I could run at all, let alone with that around my waist. I guess that could have been considered littering and cause for DQ, but I guess luckily I was still close to transition, amongst a big crowd of spectators, and just dropped it in a tree well right in from of the transition zone. Unfortunately, it was gone by the time I was done with my race, but I knew that's the chance I was taking.

Right from the get go on the run I felt terrible. I knew I hadn't had enough food, and I felt sick to my stomach. Luckily once I dropped my belt, I started to feel a bit better after a ½ mile, but my chest was bad and it was all I could do to shuffle along. I was trying to keep myself around AeT, but it was hard. My HR would float up to +10, I'd pull it back, shuffle shuffle shuffle. I made it to the first aid station at mile one & grabbed a water, coke, and put a gu in my pocket. Water was fine, coke was not. Okay, lesson learned there. I tried to take some of the gu about a mile later, but that went over like the Coke, so I knew I was down to only water.

I saw women passing me, running strong, and I watched them jealously. That should be me, I thought – I should be running strong. But it was all I could do to maintain a shuffle, walk through the aid stations, and start going again. I started up a conversation with a guy around mile 3 (his mile 10) – he was saying we were in the home stretch, and I said, "not for me – I still have 10 to go" yikes – I really didn't know if I was going to make it that far. I was beginning to doubt I had even the mental toughness to stick it out. Shuffle shuffle shuffle – past the horse barns, over the bridge again, then on the LOOONG (way TOO long, if you ask me) out and back on the dusty dirt & rock trail. Shuffle shuffle shuffle – I was fighting a side stitch / cramp off and on, sometimes it would hurt so much I would walk, it would fade, I'd start shuffling, and it would start up again. I kept thinking it was my body's way of reminding me to lean forward (shoulders over the balls of your feet!) – that was the only way I could keep it at bay. Right around mile 5.5, Jason caught up with me. It was his mile 12. I was walking.

I'd known going in to the race that with the wave timing and Jason's speed on the bike, there was a possibility that he would catch me on the run where he would be finishing and I'd still have a loop to go. I didn't think I would feel as badly as I did. He walked with me a bit, and I told him how horribly my race had been going. He gave me a pep talk, told me to keep going, told me he knew I could do it. He was having a great race, and I urged him to run on – he was going to beat his goal of sub-6:00 by a fair bit, and I was so happy for him. He handed me one of his flasks of Heed and off he went. I plodded and shuffled along.

I managed to shuffle the whole way from mile 6.5 to 7.5 without stopping, walked through the aid station, and then shuffled along to the next one. I kept recalculating the time I needed to do the 2^nd lap in if I was going to come close to a 6:30, but I knew it had slipped away. I kept thinking, "if only I could close my eyes, I could gut this out better" – but you can't really run with your eyes closed, can you? By the time I got to mile 9, I was hurting. I walked through the aid station, and had to berate myself into starting up again. The sun was threatening to break through the clouds. Up until this point, it had been perfect race weather – warm, but not hot, overcast skies and no wind. I knew I didn't want to be out on the course in the sun. I shuffled on to mile 10, and when I hit it, I just couldn't do it anymore. I walked, and somewhere in my mind a switch flipped and there would be no more running / jogging / shuffling today. My stomach was done, and it was just less painful to walk.

Just before mile 11, I saw Jason walking towards me on the bridge. I hadn't wanted him to come find me – he'd exerted himself quite a bit on his race, and here he was putting more mileage on his legs. We walked and talked a bit – he'd brought me some more water. I told him to stay and wait for me while I did the long out & back – there was no reason for him to do that extra mileage. I don't know how long it took – I think it was a mile – but he was there waiting, cheering people on, when I got back. I tried to shuffle a little on the out & back, but that was a bad idea. I realized as I was out there that even when I was walking, I was taking little gasping breaths, and even walking my HR was where I would normally see it for an 11:00 mile. I tried shuffling again when I met up with Jason, but just couldn't keep it going. Walking was just going to have to do.

We talked some more in the last mile and a half – he told me about his race. He'd been able to pace the entire run with a fire fighter from Phoenix, and basically ran the same pace as our PR ½ marathon, despite walking with me for a bit. I talked about how disappointed I was, how I'd wanted so badly to have a good race today. I cried a bit. He told me how proud he was of me for keeping going, for finishing. I didn't feel proud – I felt like I'd let myself and everyone who was pulling for me down. I know that's not true – I know that finishing is itself a huge accomplishment. But I also know I didn't do what I'd gone to Arizona to do. I wasn't able to race, and I was disappointed.

Jason walked with me all the way to the final turn to the finish chute. I managed a smile and jogged the final straight away down to the chute. I think I may have even managed to wipe my running nose before the photographer snapped the finish line photo. Someone put a medal around my neck.

Finally, the race was over. I could stop.

My official time: 6:53:31.

Swim: 53:39 (2:41 / 100m)
T1: 3:38
Bike: 3:12:59 (17.4 mph)
T2: 5:07
Run: 2:38:11 (12:05 pace)

Now that it's over and I've had some time to reflect, I'm working on focusing on the positive aspects. Every athlete has bad days – mine just happened to be race day. I know they happen, and it doesn't make me any less of an athlete. I'm going to learn from it and move on, and be proud of the fact that I stuck it out, even when I thought about stopping, even when I just wanted the race to be over. Even when I doubted my ability to go on, I did go on, I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and finished. Many people don't even dare to begin, and here I was finishing. I have every right to my gear, my t-shirt and my medal. I might not have been fast, I might not have had a great day, but through my pain, my sweat and yes, my tears, I earned it.

Oh yeah, the Weekly Recap - from Vegas

Okay, sorry about that - here's the Weekly Recap for last week - from Vegas. It's a bit of a lighter week (volume-wise, certainly not intensity-wise) as we head into final taper for Soma.

Swim Distance: 4200 yards
Bike Distance: 52.1 miles (though I'm short on distance for Saturday's ride - Jason's GPS showed it as 6 miles longer)
Run distance: 15.15 miles
Total Time: 7:54

This week is due to be light as well, with little volume in additiona to the race. I'm headed home from Vegas tonight (and not too soon, ugh, I can't stand all the smoke & air freshener. YUCK!) - repack and head down to Tempe tomorrow. The real race countdown is starting!

5K Pain - Dawg Dash Race Report

And I thought a 10K was hard.

As our last "intensity" workout before the big race this weekend, Jill thought it would be great for us to do a 5K race. The last big kick before a week of taper, coming in to the Half Ironman.

5Ks are tough because they're short enough that you pretty much just run all out for the entire race. Unfortunately, they're also long enough that it hurts. Alot.

Well, fortunately or unfortunately for us, the 21st Annual Dawg Dash was this weekend. The kick off to the University of Washington's homecoming celebration, the Dawg Dash typically draws hundreds of students & alumni (and their dogs) to campus to participate in either the 5K or 10K run. This weekend was no exception, especially since the weather was SO outstanding!

The day started out brisk - it was only in the 40s - but the sky was clear blue and the sun was shining. We got to the stadium just before 8:30, and they were already doing packet pick up. I grabbed our numbers, chips & t-shirts, and headed back to the car to meet up with Jason. We spent some time stretching in the sun, ditched our warm up clothes and headed in to the stadium where the start / finish area was.

A quick stop at the restrooms, then we did a series of pickups on the track (with a bunch of other very serious looking runners). I was starting to get nervous about this whole race thing - I'd say my Little Dog was barking a little too loudly for my comfort! They even had to delay the start of the race because there were so many day of race registrants - the line was huge!

Finally, we got lined up in the start area - the race was big enough that they had pace signs, so I lined up squarely between the 7:00 mile & 8:00 mile signs. Based on my 10K time, I knew I should be doing roughly 7:30s (though that was an entirely frightening thought), so that's where I headed. We listened to the national anthem, and then it was time to go. Man, was I nervous!!

The gun went off, and it took a few seconds to get to the start line. I thought I hit the start button on my HRM, but as I was to find out later, I apparently hit it twice. We headed around the track and out of the stadium, and then began the gradual 1.5+ mile climb up through campus. Right away I was pushing hard - I was nervous that I wouldn't get my heart rate up fast enough (ha!) but nervous that I wouldn't be able to maintain it. My legs felt like jelly for the first 1/4 mile, despite the warm up that we'd done.

But pretty soon we rounded the outside corner of the stadium, and I forgot all about the nervous legs. My heart was pounding, and I glanced down to see 149 on my HRM. Hoo boy - that was higher than I was planning, I tried to dial it back a hair, but it was a futile effort, because now it was time to head up up the stairs and over the pedestrian footbridge over Montlake Blvd. A short stint along the Burke (maybe 30 yards?) and then up the gravel path past Drumheller Fountain. This was a steady climb through campus, through the quad, around the buildings, downhill, then up again. The whole time there was a 10 or 12 year old kid just off my shoulder. He would surge and fade periodically throughout the race - coming around me on one side or the other. He would fade on the steep hills, then surge again on the downs (maybe he was smarter than I) but even when he was behind me, I could hear his labored breathing. We were suffering through this together.

Finally we came back to the fountain (Mile 2 - I'd started my watch again at the 1 Mile mark, and now it read 7:30) and turned right to head back down toward the stadium. One more mile to go - and I felt like I was dying. Back down the Burke and over the foot bridge - the steep down and turn and down the stairs was tough to navigate at speed with not much control. The the long slog around the stadium.

Turning back in, people around me started to surge. I didn't want to go too early - my 10 year old shadow cut past me on the sharp turn onto the final straight away. Darn it - I couldn't let him beat me! I put it all out there, sprinting, leaning forward, pushing across the final timing mat.

Phew! I really had nothing left - I had to gasp for a bit before I could walk over & take off my timing chip. I had managed to stop my watch - for the final 2.1 miles, I clocked 15:14. Ouch.

Eventually we met up with my brother & sister-in-law, and played with my niece Gabrielle on the field, and then headed down to U Village for brunch. We didn't hang out for the awards ceremony - even though I'd finished close behind Jason (whose watch read 21:32), I didn't figure with a field as big as this that either of us had a chance at placing.

I guess I learned my lesson. When the official splits were finally posted, color me surprised when I'd placed THIRD in my age group with a gun time of 22:32!! This even with the age group defined as 30-39 (as opposed to 30-34) and the 5K women's winner being in my age group! I was 21st woman overall -and only missed 20th by 2 seconds.

I guess this means I have to start listening to my Big Dog more often now....

A Lesson in Hill Repeats

Now that we're (almost officially) working with Jill, we get the joy of bi-weekly hill repeats. Every other Wednesday, following the 6 am spin class, a gaggle of folks makes their way from the club to the 40^th street hill for 45-50 minutes of suffering that can only be derived from hill repeats. And I use the word "suffering" in the most light-hearted, positive way possible.

For the uninitiated, hill repeats consist of a slight warm-up, and then numerous repetitions (anywhere from 5-10) of a long, steady hill, starting easy and pushing through the top of the hill, recovering on the downhill, and starting all over again. The hill on 40^th is probably about 3 or 4/10ths of a mile long, moderately steep, with a leveling off at the top. Jill's protocol is to start off easy, and then about 80% of the way to the top, pick up the pace and push through the flat section to the turnaround at the tree.

So we started off the morning with spin class. Rather than following the endurance ride format of class, I spent the hour doing a focused ride maintaining 85 rpm at AeT+20. Tough, but doable. But my legs weren't exactly fresh to start off the repeats. Then, a quick change to a dry shirt, and a roughly ¾ mile jog to the hill, and it was time to hit it.

Julie was already there doing repeats, and soon after we arrived, Jill & Joann showed up. Jill said "6 repeats" – oy. Plus the 1 on the way back to the club equals 7 total.

Well, the first one went really well, but each subsequent repeat was got harder, and seemingly longer. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) we didn't quite have time for all 6, since we both had an early meeting, but we did do 5. I already know that the more we do the repeats, the stronger I'll get. I won't say the easier the repeats will get, because they won't. They'll always be hard, they'll always hurt. But I will get stronger, potentially faster, and get to the top with a lower heart rate. I'm looking forward to that.

Of course, Jill let us know that over the next 8 months as we prep for IMCdA, we'll be adding to the number of repeats we do in a given workout, working up to 8, then 10, then putting 10 repeats at the mid-point of a 2 hour run. Whew – now that's suffering.

In the meantime, I'll settle for the short term benefits this will give me to kick some butt at SOMA.

Weekly Recap – Week ending 10/15

Monday's a rest day. Here's my training recap from last week:

Total Time: 11:21

Swim Distance: 7500 yards (4.26 miles)

Bike Distance: 66.85 miles (though I think this is a little low. Jason's GPS showed our ride on Saturday being longer than what my computer reflected..)

Run Distance: 22.8 miles

2 weeks till SOMA!

The Last Big Weekend

So this was our last big training weekend before SOMA. Two weeks from tonight, we'll have completed our first Half Ironman triathlon. Hopefully, if all goes well, we'll be relaxing (unconscious?) in our hotel room, tired but happy. But now, we're really down to brass tacks. While we'll do a 3 hour bike ride next weekend, there's no run off the bike, and not much for a long run on Sunday – probably only an hour or so. This was our last chance to put our bodies through the paces, so to speak, to see how we'll respond come race day, and to get some confidence.

It was a good weekend.

Saturday was another group ride with JFT². We did the Hollywood Hill loop again – 29 miles or so of steady climbs mixed in with some flat trail sections. Then off to ride Juanita Hill again, the Holmes Point Loop (oh goody, my favorite!) but then this time, back DOWN Juanita, and up 116^th Ave NE, back to 405, and then south on 124^th back to the Red Apple. The good news was that while Holmes Point was hard, it wasn't as debilitating as last week – I was even able to stay out of the smallest gear (in my middle ring, of course) AND shift up 2-3 gears as I crested the hill. Which, for the record, hurt like hell.

But once again, that wasn't the worst hill. While it was LONG, it's relatively steady and not incredibly steep. That honor went to 116^th. I've ridden down this hill, I've driven this hill. I knew it was steep. I didn't know how steep, and how long, it was, until we were on it. WOW. It was really, really hard. It hurt. It was so steep that I had to climb pretty much the whole thing out of the saddle – I wouldn't have been able to turn over the pedals if I was seated. I had to talk myself more than once into keeping going – the idea of stopping & walking was somewhat appealing – but not knowing that Jill was behind me! I knew I couldn't just stop & rest – the hill was steep enough, I'd never get going again. My only hope was that the hill would be over soon – funny, but I never considered dropping out of my middle ring.

After that, the steady climb up 124^th back to the Red Apple was pretty much a piece of cake. For whatever reason, I felt really good on the ride Saturday, and I was stoked about that. Once we got back to the Red Apple, I had to do a little convincing of Jason, but then we were off on our hour run through Bridle trails. By noon we noon we were done: a 3 ½ hour bike ride, and a 55 minute run.

Today (Sunday) was a long run – two hours on the schedule, which turned into a 2 ¼ hour slog through Bridle Trails with Jill in the pouring rain. It was great. This was an AeT run, so we were able to chat quite comfortably the whole time (except for the really big hill in the middle). Jill showed us the inner loop trail – we did two of those, and one of the outer loops and then headed back to Red Apple. Jill still had 1 more loop to go (she was doing a 3 hour loop) but frankly, while I could have kept on going if I had to, I was glad to be done. My feet were squishy in my shoes, and I was soaking wet. Back in the parking lot, a dry shirt, flip flops, and a hot latte from Starbucks, and I was feeling much better.

By this afternoon, it had stopped raining and things were starting to dry out.

It was a good weekend. SOMA, here we come.

Finding My AeT

AeT, or Aerobic endurance threshold, is the point at which your body begins to open the anaerobic pathways. Knowing, and training below your AeT is critical to building aerobic and muscular endurance – enabling you to run, or bike, or swim longer and faster, and process fuel more efficiently. Lots of people have lots of research and opinions around AeT and heart rate zone training – Hadd, Joe Friel, and others, and have shown great results. It is somewhat counterintuitive: in order to get faster, you need to train slower – training at or below your AeT, which is typically the top of Zone 1, or 70% of your max heart rate. Most people train solidly in Zone 3, all the time. With consistent training at AeT, your AeT doesn't change, but you are able to increase your speed at that same heart rate.

There's actually a LOT to be gained from smart training, and training at AeT. Most triathlon training, in fact, focuses on zone training. So now that we're working with Jill, it's time to do a little better than guesstimate my heart rate zones.

For most people, figuring out heart rate zones is pretty straightforward with the use of a formula. But not for me. Why? Because I have a freakishly low heart rate. And I do mean freakish. Sure, my resting heart rate is low, but that's not really all that interesting. It's my max heart rate that is low – that makes things interesting. Most zones are built off of max, so really figuring out what mine is, is important.

Well, the 10K race this past weekend got us pretty close to that number. Jill's been crunching some numbers, and came up with a set of ranges for my zones, including a hypothesis about my AeT. Today's run was all about testing that hypothesis, to determine if we had the number about right.

The test consisted of an hour treadmill run. Based on my heart rates & pacing from the 10K, Jill suggested the following: warm up 10 minutes at 5.0 mph, then run the remaining 50 minutes at 6.0 mph, and see where my heart rate ends up at the end. Okay – no problem. But wow – 5.0 mph – S L O W….

Well, for the first 10 minutes I barely cracked 100 bpm (see, I told you my heart rate was freakishly low..). Then over the course of the subsequent 50 minutes, my heart rate floated around and between about 107 bpm up to about 116 bpm. Which, according to Jill, is just about right. She'd pegged my AeT at 113 bpm – roughly equivalent with 10 minute miles.

Which is all to say that I'm going to be spending a lot of time over the next several months leading up to IM CdA running a lot slower than I'm accustomed.

Guess I better charge my iPod.

Numb3rs

So, you may have noticed from my last couple of post titles that I'm a bit of a numbers freak. I suppose that goes well with being a triathlete, but I track, monitor and manage numbers with some degree of obsession - just ask my husband. HR, distance, pace, level, laps, RPM - you name it, I'm pretty much watching it.

So it should come as no surprise that I'm also a bit of a geek when it comes to logging my workouts over time. I just get some pleasure from looking at what I've accomplished over the week, the month or longer.

With that said, here's my recap of last week - in the future, you'll probably see this on Mondays, as a summary of the previous week's efforts.

Weekly Recap - Week Ending 10/8
Run: 25.5 Miles
Bike 80 miles
Swim: 2.5 miles
Total Training Hours: 12

6.2 + 7 =

Oh my god I'm tired. And I'm SOOOOO sore. But really, it's a good sore.

And I'm really, really happy.

First thing on the books this morning was the Issaquah Salmon Days 10K . Our running this race was designed to be a "test" for Jill, so that she could gauge our fitness level. We were given an "assigned" starting pace and an overall race strategy: keep it in Zone 3/Zone 4 for the first 2-3 miles, then really pick it up for the last 5 kilometers.

Jill's assigned pace for me was 8:20. I knew what I wanted to do with my HR, but I had no idea of if I could do 8:20s, let alone pick it up from there. I hadn't run fast, even on a treadmill, in a long time, save for one run I did with Jason, and I had no idea how 8:20s would feel. So my plan was to go off heart rate - to manage it for the first 5K, then kick it up from there and hold on as long as I could.

It ended up being a good strategy. Of course, I did what Jill told me not to do. I ended up pulling the first mile in 8:00, I pulled back just slightly from there, and basically maintained that pace through the first 3 miles. I hit Mile 3 at 24:23 (according to my watch). Now was the time to kick it into gear. I thought, if I can just negative split this, I'll beat 50:00 (my secret time goal).

For the next 3 miles, I focused on maintaining my heart rate, trying to stay relax, and slowly trying to pick off people in front of me. I reached the 5 mile mark at 39:30, and new that it was time to really fly. I tried to stick close to the people in front of me who were moving, plus I had the added distraction of weaving through the back of the pack of 5K'ers, who we'd now joined up with. With .2 miles to go, I gave it all I had - I was sooo glad to see the finish line!

48:49! Wow!

I have never run so fast in my life! Not only did I beat my secret time goal of 50:00, I beat 49 too! The 7:52 pace got me 4th in my age group, and 39th woman overall (although that was based on gun time, if placing was based on chip time, I would have been 37th woman overall).

The intense effort took alot out of me. But unfortunately our day wasn't over quite yet - as our plan called for a 2 hour run. We'd only done (roughly) one hour. So after a long shower and a (couple of) naps, Jason finally talked me into doing the second half of our run. 7 miles of hills around Phantom Lake.

Ouch.

Needless to say, our pace was significantly slower than our earlier run. We didn't even wear watches, much less heart rate monitors, so it was simple an RPE run. I'm sure we ended up running faster than we'd intended - roughly speaking, we were probably somewhere between 9:30 & 10:00 miles.

And that made for one really tired.... and sore... Char. And Jason.

Darn good thing Monday is a rest day.

60 Hilly Miles

Today was group ride day for the Jill Fry Tri Team. That meant gathering in the pre-dawn hours (6:45 am to be exact, man the days are getting shorter already!!) in the Red-Apple parking lot, to begin a 2.5 - 4 hour ride. It was downright frigid this morning - the thermometer in the car read 47, and while in real degrees it was only a few notches colder than last week, even Doug agreed it FELT a WHOLE lot colder.

Starting with a long downhill to the trail, which was ensconced in fog, did nothing to warm us up. Like last week, I was almost begging for a hill to ride up, just so I could feel my fingers again. I think Jill plans it this way - it's her secret method to make us LOVE the hills.

So this week was a new experience for me, as it was over halfway through the ride last week when Jill discovered that my bike has a triple chain ring, and henceforth forbid me from riding in my granny gear. So today's ride was all about riding all the hills in my middle ring, and the flats in my big ring.

All in all, I was really pleased with how the ride went. The first 2.5 hours (@ 27 miles) was good, and aside from the cold, I didn't have any troubles. Jill took us on a slight detour to take a look at the 40th hill repeats hill, and then up an extra hill on 20th just for good measure. That one really hurt, but I did it, and made it back to the Red Apple parking lot. There we left Doug & Jessi, who were done for the day, and Jason, Jill and I continued on our ride. Jill wanted to ride longer, and Jason and I both had a long ride on the books, owing to our impending 1/2 Ironman.

So, it was down to Kirkland, and then up Juanita hill. Jill had to peel off at the fire station, as she needed to get back for her son's football game, but not before she told us about the route she was going to ride. This is where things got interesting...

At Jill's "recommendation" (though she did say, "it's really hard" - boy, she wasn't kidding!), we took a left at the fire station on Holmes Pt. Road. This took us on a nice little downhill recovery and along the water for a little bit. Pretty views. Then came the hard part - a long, twisting, ugly climb back up to Juanita - where it spit us out at the top of the hill. Not before chewing on us both for a while, however. I refused, however, to drop out of my middle ring - even though I really wanted to. I'm not sure it would have really done much good, frankly - this hill was going to be a mother, no matter what. This is building mental toughness, I kept telling myself. At least we got props from the team rider doing hill repeats on Juanita while we waited at the light - "you guys did the HARD hill" - no kidding.

So of course, this wasn't the end. We rode down Juanita & jumped on the Burke Gilman trail. We had options at this point - cruise back in to Redmond on the trail, or do Norway Hill again (the 2nd hill of our earlier loop) and then follow the same route back to the Red Apple. Now while we were riding Holmes Pt. Road, I was thinking, "I don't need to do Norway Hill again.." but once I was on the downhill, all that went away, and (forgetting how painful Norway Hill was the first time) I thought, "what the heck, let's do Norway. I'll probably regret this, but what the hey".

So off to Norway we went. And it hurt. ALOT. But I made it. In my middle ring. Wahoo!

Well, both Jason and I decided after this that we definitely DIDN'T need to do the long climb up 70th from the trail. So rather than taking the normal route back from Norway, we got over the freeway, and then cruised down 132nd to 124th. Then we took 124th straight south back to 70th, and the Red Apple. Of course, this was not without climbing either, but we made it.

By the time we got back to the car, we'd been on the bikes for 5:01 total (that included all our pit stops / talking time. It really amounted to 4 hours of ride time) for 60 miles. 60 really hilly miles. It was good.

We were supposed to then run an hour, but after all that climbing, I didn't quite have the mental toughness for that. And it was noon already, and we really needed to get back to the dogs. But I am pleased with my accomplishments for today: I rode every hill in my middle cog, and all the flats in my big cog. And I don't entirely feel like I'm going to die.

I'll save that for tomorrow after the 10K.

4:25 A.M.

That's what time my alarm went off this morning. Now, I know there are thousands of triathletes (and others!) who rise at this hour every day. I also know I would regularly rise at that hour when I lived in Boise, in order to get a short run in before my 5:30 am appointment with my trainer. But it's been a LOOONG time.

And you know what, it wasn't so bad... I hit the snooze once (I know, bad habit) and then got up, started the coffee, fed the dogs, and got dressed for my swim. Wash face, brush teeth, contacts in. Eat 1/2 banana, grab coffee, out the door. Simple.

5:14 a.m. I got in the water and started my first laps. Today's schedule was 1:00 swim, 1:00 run. I actually went a bit over on the swim. I warmed up with a 50, 100, 200, and then a main set of 4x500. Then just to get to an even number, I finished off with 150 for a total of 2500 yards. 1:04:00

Unfortunately by the time I got changed and out to the treadmill, I didn't quite have enough time for a full hour run. I did get 50:00 quality time though - all below AeT which I was really happy about. It felt good, even though I still felt a smidge of fatigue in my legs from the 1:00 spin class yesterday.

On tap for tomorrow - another 1:00 swim. Yay. I'm really starting to like the swim. I'm still not any good at it, but at least I don't hate it anymore.

Running "In the Zone"

This morning's plan was an hour run from our house. We have a 7.0 mile route that we LOVE that takes us a little longer than an hour, so that's what was on tap for today. Because a good part of the route is on trail, through woods, we really needed to wait for daylight, so that meant not actually starting our run till about 7:10. So be it.

The route follows the Lake to Lake trail, around Larsen Lake, out to Phantom Lake, around Phantom Lake, and then back. I love this route because it takes us away from traffic, and because the path around Phantom Lake is so beautiful, and so varied. The 2.6 mile loop that circles Phantom Lake also has 4 or 5 really good hills, and it feels really good to run strong through the whole route. Plus, the distance is the perfect amount to feel like you'e really gotten a good run, but its not so long that its not doable during the week.

So that was our route today. As evidenced by the ever-later sunrise, we're in the full grip of Fall, and it was overcast & brisk this morning- about 50 degrees. It was actually really quite nice running weather, and I was feeling very good. Luckily, I had my conscience, Jason, running along side me, reminding me to keep my effort in the Zone 1/ Zone 2 range, keeping our pace just under 10's.

Somedays when we run together, we chat the whole time. Somedays we chat intermittently. Somedays, we don't talk hardly at all - and today was one of those days. It seemed by the time we got around the lake and headed back that I could hardly remember having run the loop at all - I was in the "zone". I felt good, and my mind just wandered - it was almost as if I wasn't there. It was sort of meditative. I rarely get that feeling when I'm running (it happens all the time when I'm swimming, I think it has something to do with the sensory deprivation) but when I do, it can be so ...peaceful.

Black Diamond Race Report

Okay, I know this post is WAY overdue. No excuses, here it is, my race report from my VERY FIRST tri - Black Diamond Oly. This race was a 1.5 km swim, a 40K bike (25 miles) and a 10K run.

Pre race: Saturday night we had a quiet night at home. We cooked chicken on the grill and some whole wheat pasta, and then sat in front of the TV and practiced changing tires on an extra bike wheel. Good thing we did that - you'll find out later. I'd already laid out all my gear & clothes for the race, so I would be ready to go in the morning.

My goals for the race were simple: stay calm, don't panic, just get it done. Timewise, my stretch goal was to finish in under 3:00, but I really didn't have a good idea of how my body would respond to stringing all three events together. So I didn't have any real expectations for the race - I just wanted to get this one under my belt.

Race morning: The alarm went off at 4:45 am, and after a quick shower, I tried to put some food in my stomach. Well, my stomach just wasn't having the cream of wheat (nerves I think) so I gave up and went to loading up the car. It was cold out, so I pulled on my knit cap and gloves, and we finally headed out at 6am. Packet pick-up started at 6:30, so I really wanted to get there early enough to get a parking spot in the park lot. We pulled in at about 6:40, and got one of the last spots (whew!). We hopped out to pick up our packets, get our bodies marked, and check out the swim course. I had to exchange my swim cap for the right color (even though they marked me as a woman, starting in the women's wave, they gave me a green cap, the color for the men's wave).

Then it was back to the car to get the bikes, pump up the tires, and put the race numbers on everything. Eventually, I headed into transition with my bike to set up my transition area. Finally, after a bunch of back & forths to the car (I'm really going to have to refine this whole getting set up before the race thing) we were ready to go in transition, and it was time to consider actually putting the wetsuits on.

I knew the water was going to be really cold, so a "warm up" / acclimatization swim was going to be crucial. At about 8:45, I finally had my wetsuit on, and it was time to leave transition. That was a little nerve racking - I hope I had everything ready! We went down to the water, and got in - BRRR! I got my head wet and let the water soak into my suit - then it was time to do some standing around & shivering waiting for my wave to start.

The men started first, so I kissed Jason good luck as he moved off into the water. The gun went off and they were gone, and I was alone in a sea of women. I got back into the water to get my head wet again, and then took a strategic spot in the back. Soon, we were off too, and more than once I thought to myself - WOW, I'm really doing this! Of course, I was also thinking, just breathe, relax, head down - relax. Finally by about the first buoy the swim spread out and I was able to really focus on my stroke & swim. I never got freaked out, never got too off course, and never really stopped swimming. Before I knew it I was through the second lap and headed back in to the beach, and then, I could see the sand on the bottom. When my hand hit, I stood up and pulled off my goggles. As I made my way up the hill and slowly began jogging toward transition, I looked at my watch. It said 35:xx - I was thrilled! Official swim split: 34:46

I peeled off my wet suit as I made my way to transition. The Pam vegetable spray I used before the race made all the difference - my wetsuit came right off! I put on my jersey, my socks & bike shoes, and threw on my helmet. I grabbed my nutrition, but forgot to grab my pump, grabbed my bike and ran out of transition. I felt like I was going as fast as I could, by my T1 time was slow: 5:10.

I got to the bike mount zone, hopped on and pedalled off through the parking lot. Something seemed not right, but I thought it was just me so I kept going. As I made the turn out of the lot and onto the road, I knew something wasn't right, so I pulled over, and hopped off to look at my bike. Sh*t! My rear time was COMPLETELY flat. I instinctively reached for my pump in my jersey pocket only to discover it wasn't there. Now I was really in trouble - I realized the only choice I had was to head back towards transition. I ran/jogged as quickly as I could in bike shoes, with my bike, back through the parking lot, asking somewhat desperately "does anybody have a pump?" Luckily just as I was about to get back to transition, some wonderful spectator finally answered me...

"I have a pump in my bag" - Oh, thank god!

I pumped up my tire as best I could (I even put some extra air in it, knowing that Jason would have said that I left it with way too low PSI). The spectator even offered for me to keep the pump for the bike leg should I have any more problems. We established a mechanism to return the pump, and I was back off on my bike. I don't know how much time I lost, but I would guess it was about 6 or 7 minutes. Thank goodness I didn't have the thought that I should replace the tube, as I would have lost more time. As it turned out, I didn't need to replace the tube - I only needed to have actually closed the valve after I topped off my tires before the race! Lesson learned there!

So I was finally off on the bike leg - with a racing heart and more than a bit of apprehension about what was going to happen with my bike. I tried to settle in and just focus on riding smooth and smart, and trying to get some nutrition in. The couple of bites of clif bar I took went down like big rocks, so from then on I focused on my bottle of Gu2O. I figured that, along with the flask I had for the run, ought to do me just fine. The bike leg went by quickly, and I started to pass people one by one. There were a couple of times I felt like I was riding by myself, but I could almost always see someone off in the distance in front of me. I rode strong for the entire race, and got down in my aero's as best for the last stretch back to the park. I was SO relieved to see the turn in, knowing that I'd made it through the bike leg without any further problems. Bike split: 1:29:01.

I got into transition and racked my bike as fast as I could - it was a little harder this time, as there were already bikes on the rack (Jason's included). I pulled off my helmet and jersey, changed my shoes, grabbed my hat and my flask and headed out. I felt like I was going fast, but T2 was still a little slow as far as things go: 2:29

When I headed out of T2, I felt like was the last one to be leaving. I knew when I looked at my watch and saw 2:10 as I got off my bike that my hopes of a 3:00 were out of reach - there was little chance of me running a 50:00 10K, so I just wanted to run strong and do the best I could. I was working hard to ease into the run and keep my HR at a manageable level - as I got out on the rode, I was happy to see it at 125.

As I passed the 1 mile mark I started to feel stronger, and shortly after I passed Jason going the other way on the course (with a great big smooch!), I passed my first person on the run. Things got better from there. Though I was fighting the need to use the porta-potty, I passed it up at mile 2 and kept on going. I passed more women on the rolling hills on the out and back, caught my "rabbit" and dropped her on the hill just after mile 4. I knew I was close now, so I just kept focusing on running strong, and picking off the runners in front of me. I continued to pass people on the final 1.4 miles around the lake, and even passed 2 people on the final hill in the last 1/2 mile. I could hear the announcer at the finish line, and when I saw Jason cheering me on, that was my chance to really put it into the sprint. I picked up, and then once again when I heard my brother cheering me on on the sidelines.

I sprinted across the finish line - final time: 3:07:16. Run split: 55:50.

Overall I was very pleased with my performance. I went into the race with very little expectations, and while I was disappointed that I didn't make my stretch time goal, I'm really thinking that without the flat, I would have been DARN close, if not under 3:00. And I came out of it without feeling wasted, so I knew that I could have gone a bit harder. I've got alot to learn, I know, about racing - which I'm really looking forward to learning from Jill. As far as learning experiences go, this was a pretty darn good one. I am hooked - I love triathlon! Onward to SOMA!