tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2047583263307578412023-11-16T09:30:33.245-08:00running toward coffeeTaking on mama-hood and miles with sarcasm and caffeine. Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-27031192686185273222015-11-22T16:32:00.000-08:002015-11-22T16:32:04.345-08:005k training weeks 3-5 AKA when everything went off the railsPeople have noticed I'm woefully behind in recapping my training. Sadly, I'm also woefully behind in the actual training. So yeah, I'm going twitter style recaps. As few characters as possible:<br />
<br />
<b>Week 3</b><br />
<br />
Monday: 3 mi / 26:42 + 15 min Yoga Studio beginner relaxation<br />
-all the garmin snafus, yoga so I could hopefully sleep because well long story short Jordan was on a very long work trip and I get anxious.<br />
<br />
Tuesday: 6x400 w 2 min recovery / 4.6 total / 1:35; 27; 29; 24; 27; 26 + 15 min Yoga Studio<br />
-so much freezing, I'm dying, everything hurts, I'm in no mood to run. Got it done. More yoga.<br />
<br />
Wednesday: 2.9 / 30:05<br />
-ran with Jordan's boss's wife. Super fun, super chill. More yoga<br />
<br />
Thursday: Planned Tempo. Didn't happen. Rain, sourpuss mood, just nope. Being honest, some days I just know it'll be a shit show if I start, so I don't. They say you never regret a run, but whatever, I do sometimes, and sometimes, you just have to know when to let it go. No excuses. Just let it go.<br />
<br />
Friday: More nope.<br />
<br />
Saturday: 4 mi in 30:16. Realized at 3.8 as I was hammering it, that I was supposed to do 5. There was no way. Did my 4 after fussing to Rosanne for like, 5 hours. And all week. Fussy week.<br />
<br />
Sunday: 8.3 in 1:10<br />
-rainy, soggy, but actually a very enjoyable run. Maybe an upturn on the bleak blahs.<br />
<br />
<b>Week 4</b><br />
<br />
Monday: maybe not an upturn. No 3 miles. No miles.<br />
<br />
Tuesday: 9x200/200 recovery for 5.1 total / 41; 43; 40; 40; 41; 41; 41; 40; 39<br />
-super stoked with these! closer to my goal, freezing awkward stride because can't sprint!<br />
More yoga.<br />
<br />
Wednesday: .....when you have mimosas at 10am, it sort of throws it all off.<br />
<br />
Thursday: 4.4 in 35 min / Mid 15 tempo 7:17; 6:59 and final .1 at 6:30. Coming together<br />
and the long work trip ends!!<br />
<br />
Friday: Family time! No miles. But really this IS the rest day.<br />
<br />
Saturday: 5 mi @ 7:46 pace. Struggle. Bus. I'm not saying I was sick this day, but I wasn't 100% healthy.<br />
<br />
Sunday: Sick. Sick. Sick. Okay, so I felt 'okay' but apparently I looked like death warmed up. Sat in a hot tub, and then Jordan sent me to the couch while he made dinner, so I guess I did look bad.<br />
<br />
<b>Week 5</b><br />
<br />
Monday: Sick...<br />
<br />
Tuesday: still sick...<br />
<br />
Wednesday: maybe I feel a little better?? .... maybe I don't.<br />
<br />
Thursday: WALKED THE DOG AND WAS OUTSIDE FRESH AIR HOORAY!!! And then 30 minutes of yoga while sick Jordan slept on the couch... winning family health.<br />
<br />
Friday: Weights at the gym with our new gym membership. Tried to construct a sort of plan.<br />
<br />
Saturday: 5 @ 8:24 pace<br />
MARATHON LEVEL SORENESS FROM WEIGHTS. But after 6 days off, this run felt much better than expected<br />
<br />
Sunday: 30 min elliptical<br />
ALL the sinus pressure and headaches. Long dog walk. Still sore like whoa.<br />
<br />
Alright, there you have it. 3 weeks of sort of training, some focus, some falling apart (keeping it real.) And finally the weight training. Loving the addition of yoga because it's easy to persuade myself to fit in a whopping 15-30 minutes. I figure that is better than doing one hour once a year. Consistency, and slow build. Excited to see what consistent strength training will bring to the table. Excited to run. Just need to NOT BE SICK. However, I could have run more days than I did during the plague week. At this point in time, a winter 5k doesn't seem like a race I want to push my body through the illness for. I'd rather just rest, recover, and not be in a hole when the next big thing comes along.<br />
<br />
Alright, on to week 6 where MAYBE there will be miles.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-40167745774344482092015-11-02T06:48:00.001-08:002015-11-02T06:48:56.069-08:005k training :: Week 2Keeping it real here, week 2 wasn't MUCH different from week 1. Not surprisingly, I didn't exactly become a sudden speed demon overnight. I kind of hoped I would? Wishful thinking right?<br />
<br />
Monday<br />
Planned: 3 mi easy<br />
Actual: 3.4 mi / 31:47 / 9:17 pace<br />
<br />
So it turns out I don't actually know the exact distances of my loops, but on an easy day, I'm totally fine with running extra. Except I was keeping it so easy that it felt like a drag! Like "this is taking so long!!!! Oh... that was only mile 1? Am I even lifting my feet up? Is this even a run?" But I kept reminding myself if I wanted to run hard tomorrow, I had to go EASY today. No unnecessary fatigue.<br />
<br />
Tuesday<br />
Planned: 8x200 @ 800m pace / 200 recovery<br />
Actual: 1.5 WU 8x200/200r 1 mi CD / 4.6 mi / 44:24<br />
<br />
800m pace? Yeah. Right. My goal for these was at or under 45s. Which wasn't really different from my goal 400m pace. When you're a long distance runner, finding a SPRINT gear isn't really that easy without a lot of... sprinting practice. It feels sloppy, the turnover for speed isn't really there, and no matter how hard you think you're going, it's still the same speed.<br />
<br />
43 / 47 / 41 / 44 / 44 / 45 / 41 / 40<br />
<br />
I met my sister and did the workout with her, and on the second one, we were still carrying on our recovery conversation, and whoops, our split showed it. I'm still learning that sprint intervals shouldn't really feel controlled like my longer reps do. It really does need to be lung busting, can't feel my legs, gasping painful. Noted.<br />
<br />
Wednesday<br />
Planned: Rest or Easy Run<br />
Actual: 2 walks with the dog for about 3 miles total.<br />
<br />
It was date night and I had a cranky spot on my outer ankle (sorry Brooks ST-5 Racers-we might not work out for speed) so I opted for some walks. Worth it.<br />
<br />
Thursday:<br />
Planned: 30 min tempo<br />
Actual: 35 min tempo / 4.3 mi / 35:18<br />
<br />
Well, I didn't want to step back from last week. Okay, I did, and I truly considered it, but I had a hard time saying "I'll tempo 10 min instead of 15..." though it was a last minute call. This time, for my tempo, I warmed up 10 minutes at an easy pace, then hit lap on my watch. I picked it up some, and after 5 minutes (without TOO MUCH watch stalking after the first minute of "I'm only running <i>that</i> fast?! this is HARD") I lapped again, and then one more 5. My only goal was to up the pace from where I was before... and make it more of a build up. It worked, and my paces were 7:30/7:17/7:11 for each increment. The end of the last 5 minutes was ROUGH. Cooled down home, which felt like a zombie walk.<br />
<br />
Friday:<br />
Planned: Rest<br />
Actual: Rest<br />
<br />
I kind of wanted to run, but Friday just didn't pan out with other things going on to get Jordan ready for a long work trip. Rest it was.<br />
<br />
Saturday<br />
Planned: 4 mi fast<br />
Actual: 4 mi puke fast / 29:56 / 7:29 pace<br />
<br />
Kind of just started hammering it. At mile one, the wind blew my hat off, so I stopped to catch it and adjust and well, try to reset my pace, and a little old white haired lady pulled over to the side of the road. I kind of thought she was going to yell at me, though I'd done nothing in the way of her car, but she tossed a small sleeve of Ritz Crackers to me, wished me a Happy Halloween and drove on. Not one to be an ungrateful hag, I carried the ritz for the next 3 miles. I guess it kept me relaxed, not crushing crackers in my fist? This was hard. My original intent with the 'fast' days was to shoot for a more marathon pace run. Which, at this time, is still hard for 4 miles, but that's neither here nor there.<br />
<br />
Sunday:<br />
Planned: 65 minutes<br />
Actual: 1:07:18 / 7.65 / 8:48 pace<br />
<br />
I didn't get a whole lot of sleep the night before, and didn't have much of an appetite-so after two cookies and a latte in the morning, I headed out for an afternoon run. After about 3 miles, it wasn't much fun anymore. My chest was feeling tight, and despite the super comfortable pace, I couldn't really breathe. But, I finished it and got home, so that's a wrap, right? Then Garmin and I fought all night, and it turns out it deleted yesterday's run altogether. Not sure this Garmin 910 XT was worth it at all.<br />
<br />
Weekly Mileage: 24.1<br />
<br />
Definitely need to work on less 'rest days' and more active recovery, but ... well it's cold, I'm lazy, and it's cold! And now it's dark early too.<br />
<br />
On to week 3!<br />
<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-67299000489928747452015-10-26T10:45:00.000-07:002015-10-26T10:51:23.703-07:005k revolutionAt some point, I will recap everything between IMCDA and now.<br />
<br />
But for now! I came across a 5k in CDA in December (you know, prime PR month, right?) and thought "well that's about 8 weeks after the Hayden half marathon..." so I hunted around the internet, found the Hal Higdon Advanced 5k Training Program, and set my sights on 5k training. <br />
<br />
For the record, when it's obvious you are an endurance athlete, and you tell people you're going to train for a 5k, the response is something like, "You have to <i>train</i> for that?!" Well, fair point. No, I don't have to train to make it from start to finish of a 5k. I can run 3.1 miles. So the more clarified point is "I am doing 5k specific training". Not since high school cross country have I trained specifically for a 5k race. I've done too many 5ks to count in my adult career, but always either while training for another race distance, or not training much at all. After 8 months of ironman level running (re: long, slow, short, slow, slow slow slow) I thought it would be a <strike>brutal</strike> fun challenge. 200s and 400s at basically all out sprint pace until I barf up my insides. Tempos at 5k-10k paces.<br />
'Fast' day. Easy easy runs. And still, weekend long runs!!<br />
<br />
Since 5k training is not nearly as time consuming, and a completely different task for me, I wanted to recap the whopping 8 weeks until my race. Which, of course, in the PNW will likely be snowy and not conducive to a PR or racing. I'm just curious to see what the training does before December rolls around and I start looking at longer training again. And if I'm lucky and get a clear day, it'll be fun to see what I can do!<br />
<br />
That said: Week 1<br />
<br />
<b>Mon: </b><i>Planned:</i> 3 mi easy <i>Actual:</i> 0 mi.<br />
<br />
My sweet kitty Julia reached the end of the road with her battle with kidney failure, so we had to take her to the vet and comfort her on her way to rainbow bridge. There was no running.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PKfSBiDelTEh0SS2oN5cppIXw9Vzy35Eqxy8SrE6DokjGk8F461W9Dokk1bKtEd3W0Py6rqX_VrkOWZQ-fx-dniakj9aE4dDOrMF5KmE_0vmf1955_D3SDy3gX7cZLm90ngeMuIVwho_/s1600/2013-12-10+21.53.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6PKfSBiDelTEh0SS2oN5cppIXw9Vzy35Eqxy8SrE6DokjGk8F461W9Dokk1bKtEd3W0Py6rqX_VrkOWZQ-fx-dniakj9aE4dDOrMF5KmE_0vmf1955_D3SDy3gX7cZLm90ngeMuIVwho_/s320/2013-12-10+21.53.49.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old picture of my girl Julia when she was analyzing my training plan last year</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Tues: </b><i>Planned: </i>5x400 at mile pace <i>Actual:</i> 5x400 @ mile pace (2 min recovery). Total 4 mi/34:55<br />
<br />
I ran toward the track, noticed that high school football practice was still going on, and redirected to the nearby park. There is a walking path around it, and while it's paved, and okay, flat, but not as flat as a track, it HURTS. I swear road 400s are harder than on a track. I got in a 10 minute warm up, and then set my target at 1:35 per interval (6:20 pace-I have no idea what my mile pace is?!)<br />
<br />
My 5 splits on the path were 1:31; 1:33; 1:32; 1:29; 1:29<br />
<br />
My abs and everything hurt so bad. Woof. Cooldown the mile back home.<br />
<br />
<b>Wed: </b><i>Planned:</i> Rest or Easy run <i>Actual:</i> Rest<br />
<br />
I had a compass placement test for NIC to see what math/english I need to take... there was no time to run before dark.<br />
<br />
<b>Thurs:</b> <i>Planned:</i> 30 min tempo <i>Actual: </i>35 min tempo because I can't read. Total 4.35/35:01<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Per the website for tempo: <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #68696a; line-height: 17px;">This is a continuous run with an easy beginning, a build-up in the middle to near 10-K race pace (or slightly slower than your pace in a 5-K), then ease back and slow down toward the end. A typical Tempo Run would begin with 5-10 minutes easy running, build to 10-15 minutes at 10-K pace, then 5-10 minutes cooling down. You can't figure out your pace on a watch doing this workout; you need to listen to your body. Tempo Runs are very useful for developing anaerobic threshold, essential for fast 5-K racing.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #68696a; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">So I didn't really execute this per the description. I warmed up for 10 minutes, then sort of launched into the 15. I set my watch for 7:25-7:10 pace, and it was beeping at me. Mistake! I pushed hard to get into the range, and then was basically a wheezing mess for 15 minutes hovering between 7:12-7:18 pace. I'm used to my marathon tempos that were different. At one point I passed a woman wearing a t-shirt that said "Everything hurts and I'm dying". That summed it up. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><b>Fri:</b> <i>Planned:</i> Rest <i>Actual:</i> Easy peasy 4 (36:04/9:01 pace)</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">After missing both Monday and the optional Wednesday due to life, I wanted to do an easy run. And it felt great to take it super easy.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><b>Sat: </b><i>Planned: </i>4 mi fast <i>Actual: </i>4 mi fast! 31:18/7:49 pace</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">The site basically says this should just be a non conversational pace, faster than normal running pace... all up for interpretation. So Jordan and I ran together, and he pushed us along with me trying not to check my watch. The last .3 or so, my stomach was super upset, and Jordan was 5 feet ahead waving at me to catch back up since he was trying to get us an average under 7:50 pace. We got it, and then he ran another mile and I ran to the bathroom. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><b>Sun:</b> <i>Planned: </i>Easy 60 min <i>Actual: </i>7 miles / 60:57 / 8:42 pace</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">This felt pretty awesome! It was mid-60s, but the route I did had more gradual downhill on the way out, and more gradual uphill PLUS headwind on the way home. It still felt great, comfortable. I kept it easy, probably should have kept it easier, but it felt awesome. After swapping out the ortholite inserts in my Hoka Clifton 2s for the nasty old flat insoles from my Clifton 1s, my shoes have improved drastically. Which Hoka will be hearing about. Sigh... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">So week one was pretty good. The speedwork and tempo were challenging and I think it'll take a little while to get a grasp on how to tempo. From reading a little more, I've seen that it should just be a slow build up, with only a few minutes at peak pace before slowing back down. I don't really have ingrained paces anymore, but it'll all come with time. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">The hardest part was not to think about 'what I could do' in previous training cycles. About the fact that 15 minutes of tempo was so hard, yet I used to run 3x2 mi repeats at that pace and feel comfortable. Or that 4 mi fast was lung busting and tough, and was slower than my half marathon PR pace. I just need to focus on the forward progress, instead of 'but I used to be able to do this!'.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">So that's a wrap on week 1!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">Total mileage: 23.4</span></span>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-894139843059560762015-09-01T10:33:00.003-07:002015-09-01T10:35:59.882-07:00Give me all the booksYeah yeah I know, it's a blog about endurance. Does it count if I have been on a marathon session of reading books? I am going to say yes.<br />
<br />
One of my New Year's 'goals'... incidentally, I don't care for making resolutions. If I want to change something, I try not to wait until 1/1... and I just prefer to set goals for the year. This year one of my goals was to read a new book every month. I have always been an avid reader, but sometimes, I get too busy. So my reading goes up and down. I have a Kindle as well, which is awesome, but also leaves me downloading books and then forgetting to read them. Anyway, this year with ironman training, it was a little difficult to get into new books (hello, exhaustion) so I defaulted back to reading Harry Potter as well (never a bad thing!)<br />
<br />
However, I have also read some new books. And more now that ironman training is over. I thought I would do a short little recap of the books that I've read so far this year! In the last few months, I've definitely upped my reading quota, reading almost every night before bed. Of course, that's because I am trying to tune out the adult cartoons on the bedroom TV.<br />
<br />
<i>Finished: </i><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Deep-Dark-Disaster-Redemption/dp/0307238776">The Deep Dark</a></b> (Gregg Olsen): Jordan gave me this book about the disaster at the Sunshine Mine in the Silver Valley. It was a really fascinating read-with a ton of mining information, and a relatively local story. It was also a very sad read as Jordan's grandfather passed away in the mine, and that was a part of the book (and obviously a part of his family history). It's cool to read a book that is about places you know, but painful to realize exactly what the mining culture can be, and how potentially dangerous and disastrous.<br />
<br />
<b>Harry Potter books 4-7</b> (J.K. Rowling): It's just a spiral, you read one, you read them all. I won't bother a mini-review because if you know, you know. The HP love is real. If you haven't read them, well, GO!<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Boys-Boat-Americans-Berlin-Olympics-ebook/dp/B00AEBETU2/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441127223&sr=1-1&keywords=the+boys+in+the+boat">The Boys in the Boat</a> </b>(Daniel James Brown): READ THIS! This book was incredible. It took me a while to get into it (honestly I think I downloaded it last fall?) but once I was... it was a wonderful story. Again, somewhat local-ish as it goes around the UW rowing team, and the main focus, Joe, had come through the PNW in his childhood (and what a childhood it was, sadly). I never thought I would be so engaged and captured by a book about a rowing team. It was an incredible story-I do love a true historical story. True stories seemed to take over this early year.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Everyone-Hanging-Without-Other-Concerns-ebook/dp/B004JN1D3M/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441127425&sr=1-1&keywords=is+everyone+hanging+out+without+me">Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?</a> </b>(Mindy Kaling): Funny, but not quite as funny as I had hoped. I've read a few of these books by female comedians, and I really enjoyed Tina Fey's but this wasn't quite as hilarious as I thought it would be. Still not a terrible book, just not my thing, though it was a lighter read after some of the others.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Slightly-Single-Book-1-ebook/dp/B0084ZZ9YK/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441127601&sr=1-2&keywords=slightly+series+wendy+markham">The Slightly Series</a> </b>(Wendy Markham): I read all 5 of these in rapid succession after Ironman was over. They are short, cheap on the kindle, somewhat cheesy chick lit. I actually enjoyed them overall, and probably what annoyed me about her is stuff that I actually am (slightly insecure, a little crazy, goofy). They were cute books and fun to read through. There are Slightly Single, Settled, Engaged, Married, Suburban, and I was sort of disappointed that they ended there.<br />
<br />
And now where I am currently. My sister has recommended a few books to me, which are on my kindle. I forgot to take it to Butte for our long weekend though, and ended up stopping at Hastings so we could each pick up a book. Oddly, the boyfriend and I both picked up separate books with the same general theme: post pandemic America. So now I have to wrap up my current book and return to the kindle queue! Oh the problems of book worms.<br />
<br />
<i>Currently: </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Station-Eleven-Emily-John-Mandel-ebook/dp/B00J1IQUYM/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441127833&sr=1-1&keywords=station+eleven">Station Eleven</a> </b>(Emily St John Mandel): This book grabbed my attention immediately, and hasn't lost it yet. I am probably 2/3 finished (I read for most of the drive home from Butte-selfish copilot) and still engaged. The story jumps back and forth from the world before the flu pandemic to the world afterward. I have a lot of fun speculating about certain connections (and so far, I think I'm right on a few of them) and I know the point of the book is that it will somehow tie together all these lines. Unfortunately, it also creeps me out a little, because let's face it, the reality of a pandemic like this isn't exactly far fetched...<br />
<br />
and Jordan's book is <b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dog-Stars-Peter-Heller-ebook/dp/B007GZELF2/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441128044&sr=1-1&keywords=the+dog+stars">The Dog Stars</a> </b>which I fully intend to add to my ever growing pile of books.<br />
<br />
Once I am done with Station Eleven, I will return to...<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/All-Light-We-Cannot-See-ebook/dp/B00DPM7TIG/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441128131&sr=1-1&keywords=all+the+light+we+cannot+see">All the Light We Cannot See</a></b> (Anthony Doerr): I'm a short ways into this one, recommended by my sister and her hubby both. She set the same goal as mine, to read a book a month, and she's doing better at getting in a new book every month, so I get to download all her recs and force mine on her (Amanda! Boys in the Boat! NOW!) and she said this one she would force herself to stop reading and savor. Cannot wait to get back into it.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Starts-Food-Discover-Whole30-Unexpected-ebook/dp/B008C20TDG/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441128286&sr=1-1&keywords=it+starts+with+food">It Starts With Food</a></b> (Dallas and Melissa Hartwig): I'm reading this during the day, as it's not really bedtime reading and I am planning to start the Whole30 within a few days, but really want more understanding to ALL of the reasons why the changes are important. I have a strong understanding of why certain foods aren't healthy for bodies, but I have a hard time breaking the psychological hold of certain food addictions. I am very curious to learn more about how to control those habits instead of letting food control me (how sad is that? It's real... but my food issues will be a whole different post I'm sure, once I get into the meat of the book and the challenge).<br />
<br />
<i>On deck:</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Snow-Child-Pulitzer-Letters-Finalists-ebook/dp/B004RD856M/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441128506&sr=1-1&keywords=the+snow+child"><b>The Snow Child</b></a> (Eowyn Ivey): Another recommendation from my sister. I read the sample on the Kindle and downloaded it, but then opted to read the Slightly series first, as it was lighter.<br />
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<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Swimming-Antarctica-Long-Distance-Swimmer-Awards-ebook/dp/B002NXORCE/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441128639&sr=1-1&keywords=swimming+to+antarctica">Swimming to Antarctica</a></b> (Lynne Cox): Recommended by <a href="http://sweetsweatlife.com/">Erin</a>, and includes a page passage she reads before every IM, and sent me before my first IM, it was a lovely passage that I repeated to myself for as long as I could during the race, until I couldn't really connect to real thoughts anymore. Cannot wait to read this!<br />
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<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/House-Sky-Memoir-Amanda-Lindhout-ebook/dp/B00A27XEMW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1441128604&sr=1-1&keywords=a+house+in+the+sky+by+amanda+lindhout">A House in the Sky</a></b> (Amanda Lindhout): Another Erin rec! It sounds like an incredible book, and another true story.<br />
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Have you ready any amazing books this year? Do you like to read? Am I the only bookworm here?<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-82539286578298216582015-07-29T15:42:00.001-07:002015-07-29T15:42:07.210-07:00the post mortem :: IMCDAAfter ironman.<br />
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I expended so much energy to make it to that finish line that by the time I was done, I was numb. I was excited in the immediate aftermath, but by the next day, I didn't know what to feel. I wanted so badly to be on cloud 9, and I wasn't. I've learned now that the typical 'runner's high' isn't always applicable for an ironman race. Since then, it's slowly come on a little more. But like any huge event, once it was here, it was over "so fast" (sort of) and then there was nothing left to do other than to sort through the emotions and feelings of the experience.<br />
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So where does that leave me, with regard to ironman?<br />
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I am incredibly proud of myself for the day that I endured. In no way am I trying to be all humble braggy with "look how much I overcame to be an ironman!" because I didn't want to. It's true, I fought through a lot. I pushed my body for 17 hours on a sliver of the nutrition I'd planned, and anyone who is an endurance athlete knows all too well how brutal that is. I had to overrule every natural instinct to stop and save my body. But I wanted to quit. I was sad, I was bleak. I think I said repeatedly "It wasn't supposed to be like this". And it wasn't.<br />
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Everyone says an ironman isn't supposed to be easy. I agree. Like the quote from <i>A League of Their Own,</i> "It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard... is what makes it great". But, it was never supposed to be THAT hard. I was truly heartbroken that all the months of diligent training I had done was being wasted. I know that's not true. Had I not trained so smart and so hard, I probably wouldn't have been able to keep going. However, I couldn't help but think to myself how unfair it was. Maybe that is a childish sentiment, and it was sure useless to me. I know so many people didn't get to finish the race at all. I did. But I felt so much disappointment that my body was so unable to race well. Everyone battled the same conditions and so many athletes were still able to accomplish stellar performances. I was envious of that.<br />
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For my first ironman, I truly did want to enjoy the experience. For the majority of the race, I didn't. I didn't want to wish it away, but eventually, I was. I wanted to stay in the present, but the miles ahead couldn't be ignored. Had it not been my first ironman, I may not have finished. But somewhere inside, I could NOT live with the idea of not finishing, for as long as that choice was mine. There were plenty of miles where I didn't care, I didn't care if I couldn't finish because I had so many legitimate reasons not to continue. But, I couldn't not finish. Not unless they pulled me off the course.<br />
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And of course, I am also competitive. Even if it was my first race, and I didn't plan on having any major time goals, I still had certain loose ideas of what I was capable of. I wanted to do justice to all my training. Erin had done an incredible job of coaching me, and I wanted to show it off. I wanted to race to the best of my abilities. I wanted all the miles I had ridden and run in the snow, rain, or heat to pay off. It was so difficult for me to let go of that. Endurance races are always a gamble-you never know how it will turn out, and very few races ever turn out to be unicorns and puppies and rainbows. But, I never really expected it to turn out like this.<br />
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So no, I am not done with ironman. It will be a while before I can take on the distance again, because of family and life. Everyone sacrifices so much to get an ironman to her start line, and then to the finish. In the time I have been with Jordan, we have each done an ironman. It takes it's toll, and NO finish line is worth the risk of our relationship, if he's not on board with it. That, and I really need him to forget the experience we had in CDA before I can try again! But, I know I'm not done. Similar to my first marathon, when I finished, I knew I wasn't done, but I knew I didn't want to experience that again for a while. Still, I eventually came back, and have since run marathons that I know reflect what I am capable of. I want that for ironman. It's not really about the time, it never is. I want to be able to race to my potential. And someday, I will.<br />
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I am so incredibly proud of the day I had at ironman for what it taught me. I've wanted to quit races before, when my goal pace goes out the window. When I knew I wouldn't PR, qualify for Boston, or any other goal. I've given up plenty of times, and half-assed my way to the finish line. At ironman, I had to dig deeper than I ever have before. When there was nothing left physically or mentally to pull from, it was sheer willpower that kept me going. I got to experience things at ironman that I never expected. The darkness of the course after sunset. The raw emotion of trying to push your body when it's done. The finish line in the last hour... the last minutes. I had always wanted to go back at midnight (or 11pm, in this case) to see that. But I got to live it. I never, ever planned for that... but I can't deny it was pretty incredible to be on this side of it.<br />
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And someday, Lord (and family) willing, I'll make it there again.<br />
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Someday.<br />
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-51722214406433623192015-07-15T13:37:00.001-07:002015-07-15T13:59:53.321-07:00the run :: IMCDA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My first thought was to wish Jordan had been along the 'run-out' chute because there were some actual smiles here. I don't remember exactly where I finally saw him again-but I wish he hadn't missed the smiles I managed as I ran out.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh Hey! No more bike </td></tr>
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As I headed out the chute, I heard some yells. For the most part, I hadn't been registering cheers but I looked and saw my dad and Lori!! These pictures basically cover all the emotions that I went through as I realized it was them, and make me laugh a little.<br />
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They hugged me tight (even covered in sweat!) gave me more encouraging words, and assured me they'd been there throughout the day. I was so grateful to have a moment of words with them, and know they were proud of me. I was determined to fight to the finish, even if the race wasn't what I wanted. I ran on a little further and at a gap in the fence... BEN! I immediately teared up again, stopped and hugged him so tightly and told him I made it home. I could tell he was giving me his 'tough kid' smile though he was definitely concerned about his mama throughout the day.<br />
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After that, I made it out onto the run course feeling a little lighter from the hugs from family. My legs were aching so badly from all the previous cramps. I managed to run, though there was no 'holding myself back' it was just 'hey, this is running... sort of... right?' I took a turn heading toward the library and passed the pack of <a href="http://spokaneswifts.com/">Spokane Swifts </a>women! They were cheering so loud and it lifted me a little more. I was so happy to see them even if I didn't show a TON of emotion. My entire 'run' was saved by the people who carried me and stayed beside me. Just past them were Nick and Sonia, and then Sara, Brandon and the Alphonse head! Sara ran next to me for a few steps, and sent me on my way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still early enough to be smiling</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Sara, and Alphonse! Brandon opted not to run with us</td></tr>
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I made my way along Sanders Beach and through the neighborhoods-I picked up my sister for a few yards and she encouraged me along with her 'this is Mordor' sign (or was it Welcome to Mordor? I don't remember!). I made sure to get watered down with every garden hose, mister, random stranger with a spray bottle. My Hokas were sponges immediately. At the first aid station I slowed to a walk, grabbed coke and a few orange slices. I sucked the juice out of the oranges, drank a few sips of coke and got loaded up with ice. I did this at every aid station for the first half of the run. Coke, orange slices, ice and water. It was all I could handle. Then I would shuffle on. I saw familiar faces on the course, and when they would cheer or wave or pause to hug me, I would melt down. My emotions walked a tightrope on the run course, and I was struggling to keep myself together. Out along the familiar route to Bennett Bay, I kept up my pattern of shuffle walk shuffle some more. I saw my friend Merissa who was struggling with GI issues on her run and we hugged. My sister and Jordan came out on the moped and caught up to me around Bennett Bay at miles 6-7, and as I worked up the hill I spotted a neon hat I recognized from Instagram! I caught up to see the front of it, and it was penguins! I know this hat! Though it was definitely a "I know you from instagram, I don't remember your name though!" It was <a href="http://rosannekelley.blogspot.com/">Rosanne</a>, who went on to finish an amazing ironman. I pulled the same convo with her friend/spectator Mac ('hi, I know you from insta, but who are you'). I felt so rude, but honestly, I barely knew my name anymore.<br />
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I made the turnaround-steadily back up and over Bennett Bay, and my sister hopped off the moped to 'run/walk' with me while reading me comments from facebook. She was posting for me all day and it was so uplifting to hear everything people were saying and feel so much support from people. I was amazed by the amount of people who were rooting so hard for me. It kept me going. Eventually Amanda dropped off, and I kept moving. After an aid station around mile 9, the nausea was back. Nooooo. My legs were still aching from cramps, and I hesitated to put any more coke and oranges in. I continued sipping my ice water bottle, and dousing my head. I made it up the hill by the resort, and down the other side, with nausea growing. I chewed into my rolaids and tried to get a few down. The jostling of even a slow shuffle jog was too much for my stomach, and my legs. So by 10 miles, I was walking. Power walking, but walking. I wouldn't run much more after that. My body and mind were so exhausted, and with the sporadic crowd/athlete support, I was getting lonely. But exactly when I need it, friends appeared! Alyssa showed up again, with Jessie! Then Buffy and Julie! I have run with these women for years (since high school with Buffy) so having them alongside me was awesome. I was still a pessimistic mess, but it was so helpful... and I was speed walking as hard as I could as they had to jog to keep up. Buffy stuck with me for a little while, trying to talk me out of the dark place by telling me how great I was doing. I passed the amazing guys at the BASE electrolyte salt booth in the neighborhoods. There was one guy there, who's name escapes me, that kept encouraging me all through the run. He was watching for me and assuring me I would make it in. He later found me at the finish line and gave me a hug.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Super gorgeous strugglebus</td></tr>
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I got through town, feeling more and more nauseous. I saw Jordan, Levi (my brother in law) and my nephews shortly before halfway! They were so cute but I couldn't muster a smile really. Sara found me around special needs, and I sat down to change my soaking socks and cried on the curb. I was so sick, I couldn't stand... I had the volunteer tie my shoes for me, and then dragged myself up and walked on, in tears. I've spectated in town and it is usually so crowded. As I made my way down Lakeshore and to the turnaround to head back out it was empty. Dead. The Team Blaze folks shoved more ice in my top and encouraged me along. Catherine from the Swifts walked along the empty sidewalks talking to me and I cried. It felt so impossible. I couldn't fathom going back out of town again. My mom showed up on the course and I hugged her. I could hear Mike Reilly calling ironman finishers a block over and I was nowhere near done. I was feeling so sick, and so defeated. There is no sugar coating it. I was in a hole. I wanted to quit so badly, but I also had this underlying sense of pride at how hard I was really fighting when I had nothing to give. 'I am doing this. I don't even know how but I am doing it.'<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben, Mac and Wylie had these rad shirts on course</td></tr>
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I headed back through the neighborhoods, and saw my friend Bobby along Sanders. I cried again, and he hugged me as he went on to become an ironman. I kept walking. I passed the BASE tent again, and was assured by them that I WOULD be an ironman, keep taking the salts. I kept walking. I made it up the hill by the resort, and through the aid station, and then I stopped. My entire body was rebelling, and I just knew I needed to stop for a minute (or several). As soon as I sat down on the curb, a medic was on me. Asking how I felt, what I needed, was I done? He gave me a cup of iced broth. I took a sip and tossed it aside. My sister drove by at this moment, stopped, parked and sat beside me. I said I felt like throwing up, and a medic dragged the trash can over. I wasn't sure at that point if I just felt sick or really was. I grabbed the trash can and threw up 5 or 6 times, every fluid I hadn't sweated out came back up. My entire body was cramping with the effort and I could hear my sister sounding so dismayed. Athletes walking by were yelling and encouraging me to get it over and get moving again. Eventually it stopped, and I looked right at my sister and said "I can't do this anymore. I can't." and she asked if I was sure. I got up, and without any idea how, I started walking anyway. The medic who had been calling for an ambulance stopped me, took my BP (normal) and let me continue. I started to 'run'. For the first time I felt better. I saw Heather's husband Andy, and then Heather who stopped to make me smile for a picture and encourage me along!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOI7HDeqBczuE6U2n_b_EttfxGEqQNdHHSUejESLgTmLUqpUO6dum8ud-IiPSzSaigBbDu-MWnheThrwc815ippVxc53sIQfswOWSuQWg0_Uz682gHnyGKm1Hb4V-v4pupJguBkPffwiB/s1600/IMG_4761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOI7HDeqBczuE6U2n_b_EttfxGEqQNdHHSUejESLgTmLUqpUO6dum8ud-IiPSzSaigBbDu-MWnheThrwc815ippVxc53sIQfswOWSuQWg0_Uz682gHnyGKm1Hb4V-v4pupJguBkPffwiB/s320/IMG_4761.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretending I didn't just puke my guts up! This is so fun!</td></tr>
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<br />
I ran a little over a mile and then I began to shuffle/walk again. The immediate relief from throwing up was replaced with emptiness in my body. I started feeling foggy. I made it to Bennett Bay and it took me an eternity to make it to the turnaround. It was so close, yet as I walked up the hill, my vision was blurring, and I couldn't really feel my body anymore. I sat down. On the side of the hill. I was so disoriented and fatigued. A volunteer got me up and walked next to me for a bit, and then sat me down again. I was really struggling to focus on the task at hand and even open my eyes. I lost a good amount of time here again with medics trying to force a few calories into me (2 pretzels that tasted like sand, and a sip of coke). This is when the guy from the bike saw me and reminded me of my words. 'Go become an ironman. Get up. You said you would! Mike Reilly is waiting.'<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAMU1fDshI3_fb0-YL8IHK82cz2v8bPCKVDT-uoo4yLZ3wzvPw0UhBrlVnNpL_1uE75a9c_FZS58rd7oMtvcZH_zfiVYBC435PxuereG1PsfYXwHNtCbVP0H0YCw1v_vL9xKFckLVziwb/s1600/1089_055114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAMU1fDshI3_fb0-YL8IHK82cz2v8bPCKVDT-uoo4yLZ3wzvPw0UhBrlVnNpL_1uE75a9c_FZS58rd7oMtvcZH_zfiVYBC435PxuereG1PsfYXwHNtCbVP0H0YCw1v_vL9xKFckLVziwb/s320/1089_055114.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And in least flattering pictures ever... </td></tr>
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I got up again. A truck passed me and yelled that I had to RUN to make the turnaround cutoff. I tried. I couldn't run. My friends Danielle and Rob drove by at this moment, with Greg and Natalie. Danielle and Natalie jumped out and walked me to the turnaround. I was giving my glowstick necklace. I was panicking about making the turnaround (I did, by 12 minutes per 9:30 cutoff). They walked with me in the dark for a bit. My head was so lost, I was so confused, and I was wavering back and forth between DOING IT and being done. I kept asking if I would make it. I had 6+ miles back to town. The girls from before showed up. They took turns walking around me, with their own glowsticks. I just struggled to keep pushing forward. I told them I just wanted to go home. I kept asking where Jordan was, I hadn't seen him since the half way point in town. Alyssa texted him and told him he needed to be out there-and he was, in record time. One of the girls took his car, and was leapfrogging us. They kept walking around me in the dark, and I focused every bit of energy on the next landmark. Jordan walked next to me and encouraged me. Without those friends circling, and without Jordan, I wouldn't have finished in time. There's no doubt.<br />
<br />
He kept up positive talk to me, and kept assuring me I would make it. I kept trying to do math on the fly... don't do math on the fly. I was doing it backward, thinking I had extra minutes based on my swim start. I had less minutes. I didn't know and they didn't tell me. I could sense that Jordan was trying to coax me to move faster, without telling me I was in danger of a cutoff, but I was convinced I had the time. My pace had picked up since Jordan joined me. We made it back to the BASE tent one last time and they encouraged me along. I made it through the neighborhoods. I was sucking on ice chips. By now I had ditched the bottle with my sister (and my HR monitor. I was pulling everything off I could) and had even given someone else my watch because it was too much.<br />
<br />
I have never focused so hard on forward progress in my life. My legs were cramping, my feet ached so badly from cramps. We came out of the last corner of the neighborhood and the other girls had long since left to be at the finish line. Nick came out to find us while Erin and Sonia waited. At this point, unknown to me, everyone was stalking their trackers hard, worrying I wouldn't make it in. I kept walking, and mumbling random thoughts to people. Nick went back to the finish, and I made it to the corner of Sherman. Jordan had been telling me EVERYONE was waiting, and that the stands were full, and it was bright and loud and I just had to get there. I told him I couldn't run. I knew my legs wouldn't do it and falling on Sherman would mean the end of my race. He left me at the corner and went to the finish line. I tried to run. I shuffled along for a block, then walked as my legs cramped. I wanted so badly to run down Sherman and I couldn't. I had been dreaming about running this stretch for YEARS and I couldn't run it.<br />
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Merissa's husband Nate came out onto Sherman around 4th (he had finished much earlier that day) and told me I had 45 seconds (I had a bit more) to make it to the finish. He told me I HAD to run. I was so confused, and suddenly terrified. I started running-which was a painful awkward shuffle. Everyone who said the pain would vanish as I hit Sherman was wrong. It took every bit of strength to make sure I didn't fall down on the road.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPj4eJKo6wRPr-duILEanXyq9c2t8z-Jx9v7ya2EHWEbbFmjlVQzbIlYOt-n-CprhqUxMfaH8_52RIkFP7njLaGS-gfEGH0tOYy3XZ70nQoPG0xtFEYpE3Hs2tuo84VQVBxhYZBLa7bCfE/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPj4eJKo6wRPr-duILEanXyq9c2t8z-Jx9v7ya2EHWEbbFmjlVQzbIlYOt-n-CprhqUxMfaH8_52RIkFP7njLaGS-gfEGH0tOYy3XZ70nQoPG0xtFEYpE3Hs2tuo84VQVBxhYZBLa7bCfE/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nate inducing panic and making me run</td></tr>
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And then I was to the finishing stretch. And it was incredible. It was so loud, and there were so many people in the stands, and I tried to high five people, I tried to see. Suddenly Mike Reilly was next to me! I barely heard my name, and I heard 'you are an ironman!' though I didn't register the rest of it until I watched the videos later to hear the full finish, "Monica Eskebacker (not quite) you did it Monica!! You! Are! YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!". I managed to put my arms up, and smile. And I was over the line with 47 seconds to spare.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhryZbej52SEuAmqTu4N7e8ZxI_O07JynsGd7RQGzfwu_2KnOdoxyN3dF2uMH6vqqFeW9y3OA9c0FtpdnfQaGvn1jGM-Dp93Rh0DKpimG6rHX6U3Z_jUIgLTL7lZ8jSxwhjtA_HDA7eo3JP/s1600/IMG_4764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhryZbej52SEuAmqTu4N7e8ZxI_O07JynsGd7RQGzfwu_2KnOdoxyN3dF2uMH6vqqFeW9y3OA9c0FtpdnfQaGvn1jGM-Dp93Rh0DKpimG6rHX6U3Z_jUIgLTL7lZ8jSxwhjtA_HDA7eo3JP/s320/IMG_4764.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lights, noise, people!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDTwRgx7bwkMzVtDEEIt43Kso4mmxA8elCvMXz0-fywJW9dHM3NGLTVAFU2tZ5-Iu1FPDezpG4VdBqS81qbzwvHpFiVCa0iPYnGHe1dGWvfvx_y6AbsJ_h21X1rZ17b2qESKAtf1hfvof/s1600/1089_068927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDTwRgx7bwkMzVtDEEIt43Kso4mmxA8elCvMXz0-fywJW9dHM3NGLTVAFU2tZ5-Iu1FPDezpG4VdBqS81qbzwvHpFiVCa0iPYnGHe1dGWvfvx_y6AbsJ_h21X1rZ17b2qESKAtf1hfvof/s400/1089_068927.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OH THANK GOD!</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Run split: 6:41:26 Garmin Moving Time: 5:57</b><br />
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<b>Official Finish Time: 16:59:13</b><br />
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<b>The aftermath: </b><br />
I immediately fell into some volunteers, who put my medal around my neck, and then I insisted on sitting down. I did, and they pulled me back up saying I needed to walk to be okay. I got my finisher picture and then made it to the edge to hug my people.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Gm4D0i2uGG9C4brJ-VkgG6AyLoCEywHlK6W-w7TiOnEV9tK91kztDoBqEDhoqFlXqVIsHBugWsnoodaF-RMzPI2EhmubwhvHH3JIFhZowRhQlHjupJJC3mFJ9IogueMmFUDt3tluPXLc/s1600/1089_069979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Gm4D0i2uGG9C4brJ-VkgG6AyLoCEywHlK6W-w7TiOnEV9tK91kztDoBqEDhoqFlXqVIsHBugWsnoodaF-RMzPI2EhmubwhvHH3JIFhZowRhQlHjupJJC3mFJ9IogueMmFUDt3tluPXLc/s320/1089_069979.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">when you try not to look tired, and instead look crazy</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Erin was in the finish area with me, and Merissa, her husband, and Matt. Emily, my lifelong friend, called to me from the side and I was so happy to hug her. Jordan looked completely relieved it was over. My dad and Lori were there, my mom, Ben, all the girls who had walked with me.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sweetsweatlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/IMG_0055-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://sweetsweatlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/IMG_0055-1.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Super Blurry with Erin </td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlOMF_aKEnoMYPFdUx4CBGRFC37SmL-7N2-B4J6lPM7rZOkVdhW3wqKEAoVMJh6u9ubL7at-kUypWCGRpMtYDx52I9KbqsVmO7hpL8mq2sK8RD_3COSvtkQgL8XB_mVpF1WbGoM1OfNxJ/s1600/2015-06-28+22.55.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlOMF_aKEnoMYPFdUx4CBGRFC37SmL-7N2-B4J6lPM7rZOkVdhW3wqKEAoVMJh6u9ubL7at-kUypWCGRpMtYDx52I9KbqsVmO7hpL8mq2sK8RD_3COSvtkQgL8XB_mVpF1WbGoM1OfNxJ/s320/2015-06-28+22.55.33.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hugging Emily!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioq_XmXiDEq6WD9vojnS8z4e_l-9mBFt8AX8-ySf5ByKEOFhYgtUXD3dpgnPFYHjLbYRn2ZMyNYDueBm0EWr_Fyic75u_MwJ0COx9d-ul6weX0TGkn6VQgI-iEgraeTdINH849JCcHWr6Z/s1600/2015-06-28+22.55.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioq_XmXiDEq6WD9vojnS8z4e_l-9mBFt8AX8-ySf5ByKEOFhYgtUXD3dpgnPFYHjLbYRn2ZMyNYDueBm0EWr_Fyic75u_MwJ0COx9d-ul6weX0TGkn6VQgI-iEgraeTdINH849JCcHWr6Z/s320/2015-06-28+22.55.39.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relief (Jordan too)</td></tr>
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The volunteers told me there was nothing left in the medical tent, not even broth, and no IVs. So I exited, and while everyone told me to walk, I laid down in the grass. This was a terrible mistake. My calves, shins, and feet began to cramp and it was the worst pain I've experienced. Including child birth, honestly. I was crying, and screaming for people to help me. I begged them to rub my legs, do anything. I couldn't move. Jordan tried to help, and my sister. Eventually a medic came over and offered no help. I know it wasn't their fault, but shutting down the med tent when the last finishers probably need the most help was beyond frustrating at that point. They gave me a cup of gatorade, but I just laid there in pain. Sonia eventually talked me into breathing slowly and it helped me to relax. But as soon as one wave of cramps subsided, another started. Eventually they abated enough that I was able to sit up a little more, drink some gatorade, and be fed chips. I was so scared to try to stand up, and on top of that, get into a car. My family and friends began to dissipate.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUHIFn6jx5OQWpZG3Qo8_aDzzg7RNxvePmfDRX0a7KCpucl9dEBNfJPp186iPJNETAlu0EdRpJZ_f5fE_ldquOl2ODIFc351D8EF9YD_VAf5aGK9oU0YgYOoR-CD4V43m2uFKczv7pMSl/s1600/IMG_0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUHIFn6jx5OQWpZG3Qo8_aDzzg7RNxvePmfDRX0a7KCpucl9dEBNfJPp186iPJNETAlu0EdRpJZ_f5fE_ldquOl2ODIFc351D8EF9YD_VAf5aGK9oU0YgYOoR-CD4V43m2uFKczv7pMSl/s320/IMG_0143.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad and Amanda!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZo43nVrKCdcA7T8R2-5ZLCfCxyDKX2v-6Eyc4NNQNjEmRivmgQMrCAX7lb7mCEWbEu1UAFsvL1aYaczikGamf81c4z9KCA5B9HAW2PxkcIZQpAjBdmvyAt7WHVGcG4FQxB8riwctOpZd/s1600/IMG_0135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZo43nVrKCdcA7T8R2-5ZLCfCxyDKX2v-6Eyc4NNQNjEmRivmgQMrCAX7lb7mCEWbEu1UAFsvL1aYaczikGamf81c4z9KCA5B9HAW2PxkcIZQpAjBdmvyAt7WHVGcG4FQxB8riwctOpZd/s320/IMG_0135.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben, in his Team Monica shirt</td></tr>
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I was so sad afterward that I got no pictures with anyone who was there at the end. They supported me TO THE END and I was such a mess I couldn't get the pictures I'd waited all day, and all year for. Jordan got his car right down to the resort, and we got me loaded in. My mom took Ben home, and Jordan took me right to the ER. He tried to put me in a wheel chair, but standing seemed easier, and we shuffled me inside to check in before he parked. It was nearly midnight. I got checked in, and my sister showed up. I managed to change into dry shorts and my finisher top while Jordan did the paperwork. I went through admit with a nurse, who weighed me. I had lost 10 lbs since that morning. I was gobsmacked. 10 lbs?! I was put into a bed, and given an IV and anti-nausea medication and a nice warm blanket. They did blood work, and we waited. Once we knew all was well, I sent my sister home to get some rest. I tried to chat, and look through ALL the messages on my phone, but eventually I fell asleep. Jordan fell asleep in the chair next to me with his head on the bed. Once my IV was done and bloodwork was back (my electrolytes were low, but right on the edge of the normal range-so at least I know I was somehow keeping it balanced). We were discharged and made it home around 3am.<br />
<br />
Over 24 hours after our day had started it was finally over. I did it. I am an ironman.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr77MDjJcfQgWNgLh45YSdpL6SlmXoNw5Njgqr1hhmAEht8ycea7ATwBekTqDdDCWd0dwQzpLDxe3XPyeNvgNkHZkWOw8GlH0g3TZ5LaIa5brnndlsLN_dxwi5GKAue3hRGAsfB7v5p7tY/s1600/1089_068928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr77MDjJcfQgWNgLh45YSdpL6SlmXoNw5Njgqr1hhmAEht8ycea7ATwBekTqDdDCWd0dwQzpLDxe3XPyeNvgNkHZkWOw8GlH0g3TZ5LaIa5brnndlsLN_dxwi5GKAue3hRGAsfB7v5p7tY/s400/1089_068928.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Worth it. Ish.<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-3644881813843888822015-07-13T18:49:00.001-07:002015-07-13T19:42:59.733-07:00the bike :: IMCDA <i>disclaimer: from here on out, the race recaps will get pretty real. and by real, I mean a lot out there happened that I'm not really proud of. hindsight: could I have done it better? different? I don't know, and I'll never know. The day is done, I handled everything it threw at me how I did, even if it was often times with pessimistic, panicky dark hole despair. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Once I was on my bike I was pretty overjoyed. I certainly felt a little wobbly from the swim, and I knew it would take a few miles to get my bearings. I rode easy out of transition, trying to listen for family members, and checking my watch for my heart rate-which was sky high after the swim! I trusted it would come down some, though it would remain higher than the norm for any bike ride for me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyV9fULOmqODImlwd1uWdnLanwO42MZD8QuvD301ZN7d1ET372YBQU6DJPbR_vJcIFCdqVlPRlkbaykCzevZ744d7wrxW4USth6r2Yc83KmpsWQdtleQDZa3Cog9JUo3qpOMNKYGrEMDqX/s1600/1089_037365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyV9fULOmqODImlwd1uWdnLanwO42MZD8QuvD301ZN7d1ET372YBQU6DJPbR_vJcIFCdqVlPRlkbaykCzevZ744d7wrxW4USth6r2Yc83KmpsWQdtleQDZa3Cog9JUo3qpOMNKYGrEMDqX/s400/1089_037365.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">just getting onto the bike course! </td></tr>
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<b>The nutrition plan</b>: My bike was stocked with 3 bottles of <a href="http://osmonutrition.com/store/osmo-hydration-for-women.html">Osmo Active</a>, and 3 bonk breakers in my bento box, plus a bag of licorice in my pocket. This was my standard training fare for every long ride I did, and it worked very well for me every time. I never battled GI issues, I never bonked when I used it steadily. My plan with the new forecast was to get the bonk breakers down early (there were an additional few in my SN bag) and then switch to more licorice, and add GU chomps from aid stations if I needed a change of flavor. I would also sip away at my aero bottle of Osmo and then refill it from my rear cages, swapping those out with water bottles. I also had 3 more Osmo Active bottles waiting at special needs, and a total of 5 single serving packets to be mixed on the fly. I carried BASE electrolyte salt as well, shoved in my top. I typically wait 60 minutes to start eating, and for race day with a swim beforehand, I planned to start eating at 30 minutes into the ride. I began drinking immediately.<br />
<br />
The first small loop was effortless. I've ridden (and run) out over Bennett Bay to Higgins point more times than I can count. I kept a close eye on my watts and was hovering well under target to keep it easy at first. I don't display speed on my watch so I wasn't aware until after the race what I rode for any particular section. I just settled in, pedaled away, and watched everyone fly by me. I hollered at a few friends as they blew past me, and just rode on. I started my eating, and worked on hydrating. I came through town, apparently early because I had to yell to get my family's attention as I went past heading for the highway! I grabbed a water bottle on the second aid station, wrapped my cooling towel around my neck and splashed a bunch of water on myself. I wasn't super warm, but I was being proactive. I tucked the remainder of the bottle into my back pocket and headed up over the no pass zone and out to the big loop.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgugEaNgAkZfgbSbf26kUHHEywvu9fz1RjgaiQnkTUGQRd_vHVGwWQLUH30QLAloKQJUrfD_GDzpbzmG65reYWwh8c_eiT4o6SfzImIUcbP6sd20DO2G-S5REG-7EMMS0hsl-hBC_NNR4b/s1600/IMG_4229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgugEaNgAkZfgbSbf26kUHHEywvu9fz1RjgaiQnkTUGQRd_vHVGwWQLUH30QLAloKQJUrfD_GDzpbzmG65reYWwh8c_eiT4o6SfzImIUcbP6sd20DO2G-S5REG-7EMMS0hsl-hBC_NNR4b/s400/IMG_4229.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still having fun!! photo credit: Nick Weiler</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7tAoMa9hXCvM-7iCqpzgXNzhq_L7z4DovhyphenhyphenkMeERUTmzQ7D1a5LAWaCIeJvMU9aBm1s_9Tt6TwLUeNwKMkUlKLHv8c87S3hBndclaMR_JTQd50YinNQZSf_-wZEzWerOFo1rqg36DX4q/s1600/IMG_4232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7tAoMa9hXCvM-7iCqpzgXNzhq_L7z4DovhyphenhyphenkMeERUTmzQ7D1a5LAWaCIeJvMU9aBm1s_9Tt6TwLUeNwKMkUlKLHv8c87S3hBndclaMR_JTQd50YinNQZSf_-wZEzWerOFo1rqg36DX4q/s400/IMG_4232.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off to the highway!</td></tr>
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Climbing Mica for the first time was definitely warming up. Without wind (because climbing) I was dripping sweat-of course I drip sweat just looking at a warm forecast so that's not saying too much. I carried on with my eating, drinking, and taking licks of the BASE salt. Everything was right on schedule. The volunteers were amazing at every station, and I was cheerful and chatty with other cyclists. I had one minor snafu grabbing a water at an aid station to find the protective cap hadn't been removed or even cracked. As soon as I grabbed it, the woman ahead of me decided she needed to stop. Abruptly. Right in my path. I braked and unclipped quick with a minor panicked curse word, and the guy behind me had the same reaction. But we all moved on quickly and safely. I spotted a <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur </a>Fleet Foxes top, creepily stared at the athlete (and her bike) a bit and realized it was <a href="http://www.sherunsstrong.com/">Ashley</a>! We chatted a bit as we rode, made the turn around just past Setters and headed back to town. I had to stop for a second as the new water bottle flipped upside down in my rear cage (?!) and I discovered that waters would have to be in my pockets, not my cages.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDOSNnxvhzbo9v4F9qLJ1z2PVZVGQsxNXClBthMx3y0r2k8e4yir5FSm9J42-2m-qrp9EFZtkJ8i2VgN7J5cROqA6sKskKSW5FHOew5j9j_67IuoOtppC91Zob74GW9JKzpkTS1Cju6A6/s1600/1089_014057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDOSNnxvhzbo9v4F9qLJ1z2PVZVGQsxNXClBthMx3y0r2k8e4yir5FSm9J42-2m-qrp9EFZtkJ8i2VgN7J5cROqA6sKskKSW5FHOew5j9j_67IuoOtppC91Zob74GW9JKzpkTS1Cju6A6/s400/1089_014057.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climb climb climb! And still smiling!</td></tr>
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On the way back into town, I was taking advantage of the fact that we had more downhill than up, and it was free speed. I was watching miles tick by on my garmin and feeling decent. That quickly changed. I had tried, sort of, to pee on the bike but I didn't REALLY have to go... which unnerved me. I never don't have to pee. Half my spring training was spent seeing if I could make it further between restrooms. I was drinking a lot, but not too much, to avoid the slosh and overdoing it. Why didn't I have to pee? I carried on, and then the nausea began. I had finished one bonk breaker, and allowed myself a reprieve of 'just have licorice' before the next bonk breaker. The nausea was so intense I was filled with panic. I wish I could say I kept positive but the major thought was 'I am in trouble. I have so far to go, and I can't keep my food down' as I started experiencing acid reflux, food, and stomach bile creeping up my throat repeatedly. I sat up, only took a few drinks of water for a few miles, and tried to take deep breaths and tell myself it would pass.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxlmJJ0MZoYROJLyqHjNzWi-JHiMQAGLdp5B4OLm98SfZsTS0nDAv8a7RVcRCKmVEia45PF75EriRanSRE-RZPpSGDcbZxykTODsW-U5VYxItWk_2Q6uuzFHRmgetGst8SljhKBeexZZ3G/s1600/1089_024363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxlmJJ0MZoYROJLyqHjNzWi-JHiMQAGLdp5B4OLm98SfZsTS0nDAv8a7RVcRCKmVEia45PF75EriRanSRE-RZPpSGDcbZxykTODsW-U5VYxItWk_2Q6uuzFHRmgetGst8SljhKBeexZZ3G/s400/1089_024363.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">trying to calm the nausea</td></tr>
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I came through town with tears in my eyes (which my family and friends saw, despite my sunglasses) and a head full of fear. Not what you want in an Ironman. I hit halfway around 3:26 on my watch, and well under watts. I focused on getting to special needs where I had rolaids waiting for me. I stopped once at a porta-potty though I didn't have to go badly-I just wanted to see if I could determine my hydration levels.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7Wp5o3VeK_OQQhHdZNX57g3CvR7RTbitz9sHGDSAjDk5PCnPwFTsQhu4PfA6GLopwV6XDqFfjgetY4mmgZPFWXb2SYbzwX__X6r6C7-5KNJ8iwSY1tEujpvi5UulHA9kQO4oEY3SMfU1/s1600/1089_034880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7Wp5o3VeK_OQQhHdZNX57g3CvR7RTbitz9sHGDSAjDk5PCnPwFTsQhu4PfA6GLopwV6XDqFfjgetY4mmgZPFWXb2SYbzwX__X6r6C7-5KNJ8iwSY1tEujpvi5UulHA9kQO4oEY3SMfU1/s400/1089_034880.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"don't cry don't cry, oh crap I'm crying"</td></tr>
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Around the special needs turnaround, I made a command decision to ditch my nutrition plan (NOT what you should do mid-race, but I felt I had no choice. Vomiting on the bike wasn't what I wanted to do, so I knew I had to revamp). I grabbed my bottles (still slushy!) got doused with water, sprayed with new sunblock (no sunburn anywhere on me! Major win!) grabbed my rolaids and a few gels and chomps. I've eaten these most of my endurance training career, and decided they might be easier to get down. Calories were calories at this point. I felt renewed. I had a plan. It would be okay. I rode back into town shoving a couple chomps down (barely chewed, chase with water as quick as possible). I had gels in my tank top with the ice they dumped in which made them cooler too. I never took a full gel at once, just small 'nips' at intervals. I continued working through my Osmo and water and began to tackle the big loop. Just one more out and back.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeiZkL6XtJUm8OO6ulMot0x_cpzaAUjhDmk-6VhGDoLli123aWvg1xWIbKH4Rb1Tqhekqdg68V36oBvZJhunfXcD4skKlw5cWm7qnMODTyghTbg9Zolw79MT7MBI-6Os4k_cd0iAWJksf/s1600/1089_032662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmeiZkL6XtJUm8OO6ulMot0x_cpzaAUjhDmk-6VhGDoLli123aWvg1xWIbKH4Rb1Tqhekqdg68V36oBvZJhunfXcD4skKlw5cWm7qnMODTyghTbg9Zolw79MT7MBI-6Os4k_cd0iAWJksf/s400/1089_032662.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">headed toward special needs, trying to figure out my plan of action</td></tr>
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And shit. hit. the. fan. I slowly climbed the hill in the heat, feeling worse and worse. The rolaids had knocked the nausea out for a bit, but then it came back just as hard. And then the cramping began. I have never experienced cramping in racing or training. In hindsight, I don't think I would/could have done anything differently. I was drinking a lot, as much as I could without chugging bottles recklessly, and taking my salt at regular intervals. But it happened anyway. Fast, and intense, and I wound up unclipping from my bike and getting off in the road. If I hadn't, I would have crashed it. As it was, I still immediately cramped so badly I was in tears and another athlete stopped to help me hold my bike as I crumpled to the asphalt (which was a pleasant 147 at this point). He waited a few minutes encouraging me to take repeated hits of salt until I felt like I could at least move forward. I walked my bike a bit, until my legs calmed down enough that I could get back on safely. I rode on to the next aid station, stopped to grab a water and mix a new Osmo and I cramped again. A volunteer grabbed my bike and another put me into a chair in the shade. There were SO MANY athletes in chairs, on the ground, oh, and the aid station was out of water. They had dirty ice water they poured over us, and I was given a gatorade while a medic took all my stats (I could still spell my last name so I had to be somewhat coherent). My BP was high, and my HR wasn't coming down quickly but he kept asking what I wanted to do. I truly didn't know. My body was rebelling against me, despite my plan. I must have sat there for nearly a half hour before he felt I could continue, though he was reluctant to let me go. I even asked around for a cell phone to call Jordan, who was out ahead of me on the highway, waiting for me to ride by. The volunteer's phone was dead though. I got up, got back on the bike and continued with the 'please stop if it happens again' warning.<br />
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A few miles further I found Jordan and JJ. I stopped for a second, informed them of my condition, asked what my swim time was because I was dying to know, and then kept riding on. While I was making solid progress overall, my body only got worse from there, and I can't imagine the stress Jordan felt every time I got back on the bike. I made it to the next aid station (WITH WATER!!) proposed marriage to ALL the volunteers, got new water, new gatorade (any calories) and continued with my salt. I turned around, headed back toward town still doing my best to get in fluids and any calories I could. I found myself chatting with more athletes, including a guy who knew it was my first IM and I told him "Mike Reilly is going to call me an effing ironman, I am GOING to get there" (this guy would call me out later on the run with this reminder).<br />
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I passed another aid station, stopped for a water and BAM cramping again! My legs wouldn't hold me (if it sounds dramatic, it probably was. I was a staggering cramping mess). My friend Alyssa happened to be here at this moment, amazingly, and she did everything she could to perk me up and get me back on my bike. I was so defeated at this point, but continued to ride. The nausea was so intense, and now I had a pain in my back that in my delirious mind seemed like a kidney problem. I wasn't peeing, despite all the fluids, I was nauseous, and I was hurting. My body and mind were so bleak. Even if I made it back to town and off this bike, how... how would I continue. Shortly before the last climb I found Jordan and JJ one more time. I got off the bike, paced back and forth telling him my body felt wrong. A race official stopped to check on me, with an athlete already in his truck, and several bikes in the bed. He assured me it was okay that I wasn't peeing, but made me sit in the shade for a bit. I was pacing, bending over with my hands on my knees and when people asked what they could do, or what I needed, I just mumbled 'I don't know' but I got back on the bike yet again. One more climb, and then the descent into town, a mere 8 miles stood between me and transition. Just. Go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TuXwOgUJO8ZnQYb42D0NBcv0r9XvagPg9ETtpBctp-hz969iZXa9cPJozV1776kDGQdXAv_XVeZMXp_03TwUaW7UToaFTixhzPPdYcaMHcQFhzPDr9hzE8gdbRBu-u8fgUVkJSK1t3Xo/s1600/1089_009574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TuXwOgUJO8ZnQYb42D0NBcv0r9XvagPg9ETtpBctp-hz969iZXa9cPJozV1776kDGQdXAv_XVeZMXp_03TwUaW7UToaFTixhzPPdYcaMHcQFhzPDr9hzE8gdbRBu-u8fgUVkJSK1t3Xo/s400/1089_009574.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding onto my focus, a little</td></tr>
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I made the last climb, shockingly passing other people. When I was riding and my legs weren't cramping, or were at least moving with cramps, my riding was so strong. It was so frustrating to be fighting my body and mind so hard. I crested the hill, struggling hard to keep moving. My hands were weak and tingling, how would I hold on to descend this final, scary descent? I had to. "Just get home to Ben" became my mantra as I headed for the descent. I didn't brake nearly as much as usual, I just let it roll-new max speed 44.3! I made the descent, and knowing I had very few miles left, I just pushed my body. The cramps were hovering in all my muscles, and I passed a guy dry heaving on the side of the highway and had to fight the urge to start gagging myself. I followed a man through the "no pass zone" on the bridge, and as we headed down the on-ramp for the last mile to transition, he admitted defeat that he couldn't finish a run in 7 hours. Well damnit, we have to try right? That's what I told him, and then I dropped myself back into aero, down the empty NW Blvd, saw my sister (who cheered without realizing it was even me) and made the turn into the park. Thank. God. I have never felt so relieved. I grabbed my Garmin off the quick release and dropped it into my bra top, grabbed my remaining ice water bottle (smart!) and saw a few friendly faces of Ronnie and Kellee! I barely registered her but managed a smile as they took my bike away. She told me later she knew once I made it off the bike I would make it. I was so relieved I had made it home, and even though the run felt unsurmountable, I was ready to try.<br />
<br />
I grabbed my T2 bag, headed into the tent, and right for a chair with a fan. Again, a medic snagged me, checked my HR and put icy towels on my groin to help cool me quickly. She helped me get my shoes changed, told me I looked strong. I mumbled at her that 'running is USUALLY my thing' and she assured me I could do it, that I would be an ironman that day. I didn't grab my nutrition from my bag, as I knew I wouldn't be able to eat it (and it had melted into a puddle anyway) but grabbed my 24 oz thermal bottle, which I had never intended to carry, but it was sort of a security blanket. I came out of the tent, heard so many friends cheering for me and was so relieved to see their friendly faces as I started the run.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMMG3Ql-jh6lD69hShzEYvfRJj-y-RyCUYQ3PtymEkV7F6m65PHTFRl20u7E2RHRzsdeU316sPSzj1x6gY-U-hOTMGoOiDFHz-vIQ1mHCfNzqbkI7VSClJRxa1IHNxNatsTbdxKCKcAGT/s1600/2015-06-28+17.00.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMMG3Ql-jh6lD69hShzEYvfRJj-y-RyCUYQ3PtymEkV7F6m65PHTFRl20u7E2RHRzsdeU316sPSzj1x6gY-U-hOTMGoOiDFHz-vIQ1mHCfNzqbkI7VSClJRxa1IHNxNatsTbdxKCKcAGT/s400/2015-06-28+17.00.15.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed out to run with my freaking polar bottle that I HAD to carry</td></tr>
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<b>Actual Bike Split:</b> 8:40:34 <b>Moving Time per Garmin: </b>7:32:59.<br />
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This just goes to show how much time I gave up with the medics and the 'nausea stops'. It was a tough pill to swallow because I KNOW I had a strong bike in me. I'm sure I could have done things differently, but at the time, I did everything I could to keep moving forward. Even when quitting seemed like the only thing I could do, I continued on.<br />
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<b>Actual nutrition</b>: 1 bonk breaker plus a bite of a second, 4-5 pieces of licorice, 1 pkg chomps, 1 GU Roctane lemonade gel. 5ish bottles Osmo Active, 4-5 bottles water, 1 bottle Gatorade.<br />
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<b>T2 time: 8:17</b>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-15968097608744347652015-07-09T07:00:00.002-07:002015-07-09T09:15:03.836-07:00the swim :: IMCDAWhen I signed up for IMCDA last year, the swim was the most intimidating part. I had never swum further than an olympic distance triathlon in my life. My first swim of the training cycle was about 1300 yards, and I was DYING.<br />
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Fast forward through months of chlorine, late night swims (uh 8pm late) and long lunch sets, and skin peeling off my face. My times improved on shorter intervals, my endurance grew, and my confidence with it. Pull sets became my favorites. My arms got stronger. My first OWS for CDA was mid-May, in a mid-50s lake. My 1:30 finish goal slowly edged down. So that said, here's the swim. Which ended up being the BEST part of my day.<br />
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IMCDA morning:<br />
<br />
The alarm went off at 2:45 (!!) and after a night of decent, albeit slightly fitful sleep, I got right up and got the coffee pot running. I immediately started putting together my pre-race breakfast. Two slices of bread covered in nutella and banana slices, coffee, and water. I started drinking on my <a href="http://osmonutrition.com/store/preload-hydration-for-women-2.html">Osmo PreLoad</a>. Jordan and I worked on getting everything ready to go. Bottles from the fridge and freezer, nutrition in ziplock bags ready to go onto my bike, and into my transition bags. I showered, braided my hair, and finally donned my <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur Ambassador Team</a> kit! I was as organized as possible, even though I somehow misplaced a couple things (Osmo singles, car keys-both in my pocket) and had panic hunts for them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CHRq0xJWvA86QjGu3LA1mKX27AaNHT7tFCosy-FsxeNZdF7qMP5AsA0b6F-wtc8CKfVISF4j-RdI25rO0tKpjbK4EFWBlfnvsjuLLUY4X2EM3PvoYKP1CFawuPnsivhlBHwXQ_1CUPN5/s1600/2015-06-26+07.52.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CHRq0xJWvA86QjGu3LA1mKX27AaNHT7tFCosy-FsxeNZdF7qMP5AsA0b6F-wtc8CKfVISF4j-RdI25rO0tKpjbK4EFWBlfnvsjuLLUY4X2EM3PvoYKP1CFawuPnsivhlBHwXQ_1CUPN5/s400/2015-06-26+07.52.34.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The amazing Coeur kit! </td></tr>
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With the earlier start time, we had a little less time to get ready in the morning, but fortunately we were quick and efficient, and got out the door in a very timely fashion, with my calm entact. On the drive down, I sipped on my knock-off Ensure nutritional drink.<br />
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We got to the dike road by City Park transition, and I jumped out with all my special needs backs and backpack of goods plus bike pump while Jordan went to park, and would bring my swim gear over to meet me. I got into transition, mounted my Garmin 910XT onto the quick release (already turned on), loaded my bento box, and proceeded to pump up my tires. The front, perfect... the back tire? Flat as a pancake. I had deflated both the day before due to temps. Panic ensued. I debated changing it myself, but in my nervous (and now teary) state, I grabbed it off the rack and ran to the tech tent. After waiting 10-ish minutes (the tech was awesome, but took his sweet time while I sweated and leered at him). As soon as my bike was on the stand for a change, I ran back to the rack, threw my SN bags over the fence to Jordan who reminded me to calm down, and he went with Nick and Sonia to turn in bags. I gave Erin a freaked teary hug, ran back, and retrieved my bike. Whew! I racked her again, double checked everything, took a deep breath, and handled my gear bags.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.triathlon.competitor.com/files/2015/06/3_H4A9162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.triathlon.competitor.com/files/2015/06/3_H4A9162.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="http://triathlon.competitor.com/2015/06/photos/photos-2015-ironman-coeur-dalene_118146">Triathlete Magazine</a>'s pictures of IMCDA (can you spot me waiting desperately for my bike!?)</td></tr>
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Finally, I made it OUT of transition and to body marking (I didn't exactly get this done in the right order, obviously). I got marked quickly, and then we walked to the bathroom. I was 100 kinds of frazzled, seeing different friends, wanting to take pictures, and Jordan kept me focused on what NEEDED to be done. Bathroom, bathroom again, wetsuit on, ALL the body glide, take part of my gu, deep breaths, walk toward the beach. We managed to snag someone last minute to take our pre-race picture and then I gave him a big hug, got a few final (much needed) words of encouragement, tried NOT to cry over these words, and I headed into the village to the beach.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqriG_520ZqvY1xzUp9Ssp9WVSdOnQMFYpGOmjL6auqosXCH5uPQitdhwYy_OVpGpCPgfnDqQbfm4E6jnWaUGr3351TxDxYfeSgCPqo9RNAFd8329o-t-Ds-279yvY9pmhkKUG4eejj6XI/s1600/2015-06-28+05.22.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqriG_520ZqvY1xzUp9Ssp9WVSdOnQMFYpGOmjL6auqosXCH5uPQitdhwYy_OVpGpCPgfnDqQbfm4E6jnWaUGr3351TxDxYfeSgCPqo9RNAFd8329o-t-Ds-279yvY9pmhkKUG4eejj6XI/s400/2015-06-28+05.22.11.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There really aren't words for how much he did to get me to this moment, and through the next 17 hours. xo</td></tr>
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On the beach I found a few familiar faces, and <a href="http://sweetsweatlife.com/">ERIN!</a> She was looking about as emotional as I felt, and we got into the lake which felt perfect, and did some warm up swimming. It was so surreal to be on this side of the swim start. Staring at the buoys out across the lake, all the boats and other volunteers in the water waiting around the perimeter. It was my. day. I had some butterflies, and nerves, but the dominating feeling was peace and calm. I was so ready, and so excited. I hugged my different friends, but when we started creeping toward the swim arch, I found myself alone, which was perfect.<br />
<br />
IMCDA has the rolling start, and getting into the water wasn't crowded or too stressful. I chose to swim without a watch, because I have about one speed in the water... so being able to look at a watch would do nothing to change the swim for me, other than to potentially add stress. I did glance at the time of day on the clock as I got in, so I would have a loose idea of where I was. I trotted into the water, and began to swim.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxWW5Ls0neHTJ_hhaob_IUzUhoQb-Qumu8szSZSf84u7ri6Z9xfy96J_8jBlyWLQqqyCKyyFCmn5pr4Oss3IM6EIZeWiw1Ux0V_smrt9b4mLBpRvXTd8tyEZLusEqNOnisYjDpCzZ225-/s1600/2015-06-28+05.47.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxWW5Ls0neHTJ_hhaob_IUzUhoQb-Qumu8szSZSf84u7ri6Z9xfy96J_8jBlyWLQqqyCKyyFCmn5pr4Oss3IM6EIZeWiw1Ux0V_smrt9b4mLBpRvXTd8tyEZLusEqNOnisYjDpCzZ225-/s640/2015-06-28+05.47.49.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found on my phone-my sister took these-presumably I'm in here somewhere!</td></tr>
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At no point did I feel panic, or anxiety over the open water. I settled comfortably into my bilateral breathing (when I am anxious in open water, I will breathe only to the right every stroke until I feel calm) and just swam away, sighting occasionally. The buoys cruised by fairly quickly. I got caught up a few times between people (always men!) who would block my progress and as I'm not super aggressive, I tended to just settle behind them until there was clear water to move forward. The turns were a little crowded, but overall, the first loop flew by! I reminded myself of Sonia's advice "don't wish away the day" and I truly enjoyed the swim. On the way back to the beach for loop one I just watched Tubbs Hill go by until the resort dock, the hotel, and the stairs came into view. Then I would hear the music, the crowds, Mike Reilly every time I breathed and I got more and more excited. One loop done and I was feeling amazing!! I waited until my hands were grazing sand before I stood up and slogged to the swim out arch to turn and run back in. I glanced at the clock on my way back into the water which gave me some fun mental math to do for the beginning of loop 2. My math got me a number around 38, and my first lap was 38:25 (1:59/100).<br />
<br />
Loop 2 was more crowded for me, and I would end up spending more time behind people. I would get trapped in groups, and find myself swimming further from the buoys and having to circle back in. My first loop was much tighter, and it shows in the swim time. I know the second loop is always slower and I expected it. Perhaps I could have been more aggressive, or found ways through packs of people but I didn't, and I truly enjoyed my entire swim so I am happy with how I executed it. I felt like I got knocked around a little more the second time, and drank a lot more lake. The buoys seemed to come a little slower on the turn and the way back to shore, but that was probably because I was veering off course a little more. I was laughing to myself during the swim with how many times I was accidentally waaaay too personal with some neoprene butts out there. Finally I saw the number on an orange buoy and realized I had two left to swim, and then the push to shore. As with the first lap, I was still feeling good, but maybe sighting too much (hurry up shore!!) and finally I reached where I could stand. My second lap slowed significantly for 43:51 (2:16/100).<br />
<br />
I popped up, pushed my goggles up my head and started grabbing for my wetsuit zipper pull. I heard nothing but noise, and my name a few times (sister? friend? hello!) and apparently was one of the names announced as I made my way up the beach, but I didn't catch it. It was a buzzing sound but I was giddy and smiling the whole way in. I hit the transition area, spotted two strippers and ran over and hit the ground. They pulled my suit right off, handed it to me and wished me luck. I was beaming the whole time!! I easily spotted my transition bag with all the pink duct tape on it and it was off to the change tent. As I turned to head to the tent, I spotted my friend Bobby and said hello! I KNEW we were near the same speed. His swim was faster than mine but it was a delight to see him in transition. I heard Jordan and JJ yelling from the fence and I smiled and waved back. Sadly, Jordan remembers this as the last time I smiled at him the entire day.<br />
<br />
I found a chair close to the end of the change tent, waved a volunteer over and while she mostly watched me, I did solicit her help on a few things. She sprayed me down with my Neutrogena kids wet sunblock (I didn't want to rub in lotion and have slippery hands, so I chose my own spray on). I got my arm coolers on, managed to shove snacks into my droopy wet pockets, dried myself off a little with a towel, shoes on, helmet on, cooling towel shoved into my back pocket for later, and it was all on for the bike! I left her my bag full of gear and ran out to the bikes. The volunteers were everywhere pointing me to my bike, though I remembered which trees were end of my row. I ran foward, ducked under the gap in the bar, a volunteer lifted my saddle off, and I ran up the outside of the tent to the 'Bike Out'.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zH9eT0ejzYLb36sOljLKMVLeSi4ShsusJo72gX6oaUjfS57QWrVFbHuM4H3eMCZAlE0_4oZlEPipDuuUQWnS5bSNwmbi-HbldVXNzFnMMN5cy0w0FcsvsbLo53NTf3C5C0KKDRZEEJfF/s1600/IMG_4195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zH9eT0ejzYLb36sOljLKMVLeSi4ShsusJo72gX6oaUjfS57QWrVFbHuM4H3eMCZAlE0_4oZlEPipDuuUQWnS5bSNwmbi-HbldVXNzFnMMN5cy0w0FcsvsbLo53NTf3C5C0KKDRZEEJfF/s400/IMG_4195.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still smiling!! Off to ride 112 miles! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7nrDaKGo1Wm0pcCMxs9TTPvCBlNHvkS9Mv-mtoC-dgDvCTXX2e8hPWswYgdg0ESxYW4oZ9RUpipYe8eK26Ir6m2XrlV6lE4zH02NxokGtyjeqoyB_Cbm35sM5nhNn3wwV9a4SG4lPWEt/s1600/IMG_4196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7nrDaKGo1Wm0pcCMxs9TTPvCBlNHvkS9Mv-mtoC-dgDvCTXX2e8hPWswYgdg0ESxYW4oZ9RUpipYe8eK26Ir6m2XrlV6lE4zH02NxokGtyjeqoyB_Cbm35sM5nhNn3wwV9a4SG4lPWEt/s400/IMG_4196.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">why yes, my full pockets do make me look like a babboon butt! Also spotted: Sara and Brandon with the infamous Alphonse head on the left side!! </td></tr>
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I was only half hearing. I heard my family screaming, I saw Sara and Brandon with the Alphonse head! A few other cheers of my name and I was on the saddle, clipping in and heading out for the 112 mi bike ride, still beaming! (for now...)<br />
<br />
<b>Swim Time: 1:22:16 (2:07/100) </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>T1 time: 6:40</b><br />
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<b>Gear: <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur</a> Team Kit; <a href="http://www.rokasports.com/products/womens-maverick-elite-fullsuit">Roka Maverick elite wetsuit</a>; <a href="http://www.rokasports.com/products/x1-goggle">Roka X1 goggles in dark amber/gold mirror</a>; so much body glide. </b><br />
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-89305557811871864472015-07-03T10:10:00.002-07:002015-07-03T10:10:32.304-07:00Before IronmanClearly I failed to post a lot of training updates. Or blog updates. Or life updates. That ish gets BUSY! Before I get to recapping what was the hardest day of my life... maybe it's not necessary, but I feel like defending myself. My training was as good as I could have dreamed. Coach Erin trained me so well and I was incredibly prepared to complete 140.6 last Sunday. I was ready. The thing about a race, ANY RACE is you can't predict the outcome. Or the day. I knew it would be very warm. I adjusted my plan accordingly and I was fully prepared. Unfortunately, despite my best intentions, it didn't go according to ANY plan I made. But we'll get to that.<br />
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The week leading up to IMCDA was awesome! Here's everything that happened leading up to the race that isn't the actual race:<br />
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Race check in and the coveted Ironman backpack! I smiled SO HARD all day long over this. I still haven't cut off my wristband (is that normal?)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">check in! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXSmO6uFvr-8vLXqy_gypulULTgtZZClyamS_HxVjHoCy0rmE-O8ISAxrf9KdkXCg_YTYye5pXKI8Bdw4Ggxa6VxvIDlw8hPZyXwnSYFPRWc4wEFzXWpfEidoJn9ljpGpjRyygnsNzb9w/s1600/2015-06-25+13.08.03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXSmO6uFvr-8vLXqy_gypulULTgtZZClyamS_HxVjHoCy0rmE-O8ISAxrf9KdkXCg_YTYye5pXKI8Bdw4Ggxa6VxvIDlw8hPZyXwnSYFPRWc4wEFzXWpfEidoJn9ljpGpjRyygnsNzb9w/s320/2015-06-25+13.08.03.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">packet pick up! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6n-mQtCdkGrwMJ81-7uCMeMTeFHt3jsmLpReFXGwWvba2eh-pJLVGzd63u69Cs4jFmL_YuY2EpvuvdNgI2KhZkhS40EgKWFZ-ttvGUHCECYP_C_nGr36sxc4-myiWYSr2PwbPnf_bBJnn/s1600/2015-06-25+13.15.45-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6n-mQtCdkGrwMJ81-7uCMeMTeFHt3jsmLpReFXGwWvba2eh-pJLVGzd63u69Cs4jFmL_YuY2EpvuvdNgI2KhZkhS40EgKWFZ-ttvGUHCECYP_C_nGr36sxc4-myiWYSr2PwbPnf_bBJnn/s320/2015-06-25+13.15.45-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE BACKPACK!!! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_4s57hwD9Sf09SetuqLj3ZSAgcdYI77UdPEQkHYGDFhTHI2svwasHcWOYRDtjLOLWAThuIBHU1OMkh8SioqCi2JltIKSUvjz5TvEIzjrN4r2E7EnZhdy-MxdEKpJ3IIEhpr63dqe7bPH/s1600/2015-06-25+15.29.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_4s57hwD9Sf09SetuqLj3ZSAgcdYI77UdPEQkHYGDFhTHI2svwasHcWOYRDtjLOLWAThuIBHU1OMkh8SioqCi2JltIKSUvjz5TvEIzjrN4r2E7EnZhdy-MxdEKpJ3IIEhpr63dqe7bPH/s320/2015-06-25+15.29.43.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">still rocking this for a few more days</td></tr>
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Hydrating with EVERYTHING. Nuun, <a href="http://osmonutrition.com/store/osmo-hydration-for-women.html">Osmo Active</a>, Coconut water, water, less coffee than usual. Also began testing and using <a href="http://www.baseperformance.com/product/base-electrolyte-salt/#.VZVWdxv-_yE">BASE electrolyte salt </a>thanks to the recommendation of... well... everyone. Not to mention these guys were amazing on the run course helping cheer me along and promising me I'd make it home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJfNi7slwpBX8EdLRshMr6e2mksYJeDEN0NSg1Vm_mQgrF1dRtM5xbKbT_4jA4x6pDdF1SFFf80XgBL33W1XM-K3UZkDxVHJSQ5ycRSPoku8oUQMWpYdtHsSLy9hIS85X5g6a2WGfWTU0/s1600/2015-06-26+09.41.59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJfNi7slwpBX8EdLRshMr6e2mksYJeDEN0NSg1Vm_mQgrF1dRtM5xbKbT_4jA4x6pDdF1SFFf80XgBL33W1XM-K3UZkDxVHJSQ5ycRSPoku8oUQMWpYdtHsSLy9hIS85X5g6a2WGfWTU0/s320/2015-06-26+09.41.59.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All race weekend prep should involve cheesin' with Wylie</td></tr>
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Sitting in the NormaTec compression boots listening to the Athlete Briefing with <a href="http://www.sherunsstrong.com/">Ashley</a>, who I was so happy to meet (sorry we didn't get to visit more later in the weekend Ashley! I will mail you a t-shirt!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8zGWVS99MDECTJ7jtPxWsv_U_PkLkohyphenhyphenDFNl_jQyGfvo-rd7qKJmkCF3jBMyFNz4mbOYvAL8xpg72Sp930Zf7sCZdBR6fAGNLY1gXOtLqvJNl4CJRVzZpq5ApY7M5NAUm8h6_OAaX6ik/s1600/2015-06-26+11.07.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8zGWVS99MDECTJ7jtPxWsv_U_PkLkohyphenhyphenDFNl_jQyGfvo-rd7qKJmkCF3jBMyFNz4mbOYvAL8xpg72Sp930Zf7sCZdBR6fAGNLY1gXOtLqvJNl4CJRVzZpq5ApY7M5NAUm8h6_OAaX6ik/s320/2015-06-26+11.07.39.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can only wear these so long when it's 100 out, and you are overly hydrated. SO MUCH SWEAT and have to pee</td></tr>
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FINALLY meeting <a href="http://sweetsweatlife.com/">Erin</a>! (and Nick and Sonia, who were amazing!) I was so happy to finally meet my friend/coach, so that we are no longer 'fake friends' from the internets. After months of chatting daily about training, and life, it felt like we'd already known each other all along. We continue to be twinsies so, I'm convinced we're sisters from another mother, as she says.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPWoswyBTbvW7A_w6qmc3MC7HM63jk82M7vVuWuC8h8yhDfjR-lbqpQ3HBJG4GfkP9goyWACYLUhY6dNiQB1gouQ579JFqAgh6zur6AocgGWwmBBNwpd3yRFppk7VMceb-4y6CaMuPsol/s1600/2015-06-27+15.46.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPWoswyBTbvW7A_w6qmc3MC7HM63jk82M7vVuWuC8h8yhDfjR-lbqpQ3HBJG4GfkP9goyWACYLUhY6dNiQB1gouQ579JFqAgh6zur6AocgGWwmBBNwpd3yRFppk7VMceb-4y6CaMuPsol/s320/2015-06-27+15.46.07.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just... what... am I doing...?</td></tr>
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Ironkids race for Ben!! It was SO WARM this day too, and I got butterflies listening to Mike Reilly<br />call out 'you are an ironkid' and thinking of HOW BADLY I wanted to hear him call my name as an ironman the next day. (spoiler alert. He does.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6vhnWqh84tQVRswzARZSpZiWATVR1kiS8be8xjmIy4S-Abse3jeu3UkQ6Mgv75DhDSEs1cwszWnMZeaw6VpM3PxZLMF0fkFxtepuvHEaU8IV3ZuwJI1P_xGYP0p3teP6prTXdt27fu2wL/s1600/2015-06-27+08.50.29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6vhnWqh84tQVRswzARZSpZiWATVR1kiS8be8xjmIy4S-Abse3jeu3UkQ6Mgv75DhDSEs1cwszWnMZeaw6VpM3PxZLMF0fkFxtepuvHEaU8IV3ZuwJI1P_xGYP0p3teP6prTXdt27fu2wL/s320/2015-06-27+08.50.29.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pre-race</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjU-tYiC9cUE1QnbF0c1LNbfmSZrM2_odD9TsoJxOLDAFFZkephhXmanNUJZhzEt3_p59I-8iekximTIrLNvwQJ0v41XHVq_FROvh_MSqj5BVsDnFpqBtJDRLiHVCt1iB045Buj14g6gB/s1600/2015-06-27+09.23.41-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNjU-tYiC9cUE1QnbF0c1LNbfmSZrM2_odD9TsoJxOLDAFFZkephhXmanNUJZhzEt3_p59I-8iekximTIrLNvwQJ0v41XHVq_FROvh_MSqj5BVsDnFpqBtJDRLiHVCt1iB045Buj14g6gB/s320/2015-06-27+09.23.41-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So warm... but look at that smooth stride</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJ7RSaTIEUE5bkVCjordXNIySOLQomrl4VnzugmBU4ZmNnwCoZEQPw01w8_pvfkbGBjILmS31-SBF3h3UBX_W4tvAS6jF_iiOLEhmul9IWONR8XMzpdHQzrEXhJA4Z27bVLqA6vBKFz8K/s1600/2015-06-27+09.31.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJ7RSaTIEUE5bkVCjordXNIySOLQomrl4VnzugmBU4ZmNnwCoZEQPw01w8_pvfkbGBjILmS31-SBF3h3UBX_W4tvAS6jF_iiOLEhmul9IWONR8XMzpdHQzrEXhJA4Z27bVLqA6vBKFz8K/s320/2015-06-27+09.31.19.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben! You are an ironkid!</td></tr>
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Shake out runs and rides that felt fabulous and warm. Gear bag prep. My sister giving me race day nails. My boyfriend rubbing my feet and talking me through the race day, helping me prep my bags and bottles and nutrition. Making sure I slept, and was ready race day. He is the calm to my chronic worry.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfTPscNNvIs7uM_84UOKmmfKkVTCuaYZ4vdgQ0G4afePAMopruqhOrA7QDiah1v9St9lxD2i-IeXnlb9dCOThqn3RvBOci4cBisSn83_el5SCZGWoQh0qbivApZQmdJ-37-EOgl1aSl_Wt/s1600/2015-06-27+19.32.11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfTPscNNvIs7uM_84UOKmmfKkVTCuaYZ4vdgQ0G4afePAMopruqhOrA7QDiah1v9St9lxD2i-IeXnlb9dCOThqn3RvBOci4cBisSn83_el5SCZGWoQh0qbivApZQmdJ-37-EOgl1aSl_Wt/s320/2015-06-27+19.32.11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race nails!</td></tr>
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Bike check! Leaving little Bessie (I don't know how I landed on that name when so many badass ones crossed my mind, but it's what stuck-when we would try to fly down the descents on Mica Bay and I would find myself saying 'easy Bessie' to myself-so there you have it) all tucked in for the night.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVj_uLBUdqisQ0zIY4RGX0gvS7HRmYebVpCWdcd4g-GcZD0OTd6j2cMzW9pkPwYjJ36OfdIA293hXFkmgKrj2goqrzXJC5Bwl9YG1JrEuuu4ekQW75Oeu3H-JqC5cO-fK6owLocYPolgi/s1600/2015-06-27+15.40.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVj_uLBUdqisQ0zIY4RGX0gvS7HRmYebVpCWdcd4g-GcZD0OTd6j2cMzW9pkPwYjJ36OfdIA293hXFkmgKrj2goqrzXJC5Bwl9YG1JrEuuu4ekQW75Oeu3H-JqC5cO-fK6owLocYPolgi/s320/2015-06-27+15.40.22.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bike check with fabulous Erin!</td></tr>
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I was amazed race weekend at how peaceful I felt, really. Of course I had jitters, nerves, and couldn't eat as well as I'd have liked, but overall, I was calm, and ready, and excited.<br />
<br />
And at the end of Saturday night, after a few episodes of "Friends" I tried to get some sleep for the 2:45 alarm clock the next day.<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-22414474260111381842015-04-02T08:02:00.004-07:002015-04-02T08:02:58.447-07:00All the heart (and courage)Riding outside. Just. Whoa.<br />
<br />
The weather in the PNW is taking a little swing toward spring, which has resulted in a few nicer afternoons and mornings to ride outside. This is good for so many reasons, not the least of which is: I AM TERRIFIED of being outside! Well, that's not wholly true. I'm fairly comfortable and confident and giddy to be outside, but there is still so far to go. So. Far.<br />
<br />
First of all, I adopted a bike. My faithful roadbike, Baby, has gone to stay with my mom while she gets into cycling. I love my bike, and I didn't intend to part with it, so as long as she is in the family, that's what matters. Of course, I also re-homed my cat to my mom and she hides whenever I come over, so we'll see, right?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vqBMEJeZF7uhUSwW0yXsYsS2uKuYnrkVixxdTb2K858PMEiEnmcpYRPJ2xhAg0UeCHC0mhtUr5JY6Hco2yzMkyRGsdhEQ9PC7WTRMN4KKHw37RpH5G5RvhNmM2YBBu4ZI_cDRlm40HSX/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vqBMEJeZF7uhUSwW0yXsYsS2uKuYnrkVixxdTb2K858PMEiEnmcpYRPJ2xhAg0UeCHC0mhtUr5JY6Hco2yzMkyRGsdhEQ9PC7WTRMN4KKHw37RpH5G5RvhNmM2YBBu4ZI_cDRlm40HSX/s1600/003.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey hey new bike</td></tr>
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I am now riding a Felt DA4 that I got from a friend of a friend. This bike is pretty darn gorgeous, but boy is it a learning curve. Riding on the trainer is one thing. Taking it outside, I looped the block and came back shaky. It is just not the same. I know I will get used to it, and I'm loving the bike, but it's still an adjustment. That's just the honest truth. I expected to jump on and be like "BEST EVER!!" and while I seriously love it, it's still new. Fortunately, I still chat with the previous owner regularly, and she assured me she missed her road bike for the first few rides too, and on her new bike now, she misses this one. It's a bonding experience! I have yet to name my new little stallion because nothing has occurred to me yet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1gBQ_oh_Xj9-9p04w6RSi05aXo078U_BvJxkht3Kd8wwoitfXrDQzOEUUwpXbl_c186EBlkHInxCgpVwG2b9QEMGeQWSDQlhlXh90rvWz3EYkGqaclwZMeqz963HyYd0rVIXYQk5221f/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1gBQ_oh_Xj9-9p04w6RSi05aXo078U_BvJxkht3Kd8wwoitfXrDQzOEUUwpXbl_c186EBlkHInxCgpVwG2b9QEMGeQWSDQlhlXh90rvWz3EYkGqaclwZMeqz963HyYd0rVIXYQk5221f/s1600/010.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Changing the rear tire. Bike wins round one. Bonding at it's best</td></tr>
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All that background said, I've ridden outside 4 times now. Two recovery rides, and two longer rides (one that ended back on the trainer for the last 50 minutes because holy gusts of wind!). Again, in honesty.. I expected to get outside, and be fast! Effortless! Flying! ... I was not. I'm still not. It's super windy around these parts now, so there's been that to struggle with, but I had this expectation in my head of being super fast once I got off the trainer. That all the watts and leg burning intervals I've sweated through this winter would pay off. I was a little discouraged. Disappointed. Plagued with self doubt. Add to that the fact that my ironman boyfriend accompanied me on a few rides. He hasn't ridden in 5 months, and he was still easily dropping me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoixZK3cQ7Co6mVu_xFcx-T-lUGbHXk03ORRtA-BUMDdMxlS4RDJ0bwp5-2plMYMydHpRpeZdXJAdgQwLQmo08N8QAvQJ9uIbigq7un23dYjUqgeExPQkCfKibX6ou7WVYBJSYi8aX09LY/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoixZK3cQ7Co6mVu_xFcx-T-lUGbHXk03ORRtA-BUMDdMxlS4RDJ0bwp5-2plMYMydHpRpeZdXJAdgQwLQmo08N8QAvQJ9uIbigq7un23dYjUqgeExPQkCfKibX6ou7WVYBJSYi8aX09LY/s1600/012.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe it's the glasses slowing me down?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then I did some research. I started looking at rides from last summer/fall where I had used my heart rate monitor. And I saw it. The heart. My heart is SO MUCH STRONGER! On all 4 rides I've done outside, I'm 20-30 bpm lower than I was last fall. That is huge! Huge! I pay so much attention to my heart rate (and watts) that my speed is contained to that (and at the mercy of the wind/pedestrians). I rode 65 outside miles last weekend, and my max HR was 165 up a hill (or possibly when I flipped my bike and went over the handlebars... I can't really confirm-and that's a whole 'nother story!). My average was in the mid 130s. So I looked back. Last fall I rode the large (and yes, hillier) loop of the IM course. I rode 32 hilly-ass miles, with an average HR of 161. Wake up call. My avg from last fall is now my max that I hit for a few seconds or minutes. That is how far I've come. That is where my strength has grown.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZ4tfuRAQMm8S1Oar1pHFb7S-FeyEzGQKzFKfymZGQx4C4tReCr3pzSGSYzA2vsdjyzkRllNVK0ZoWleEJoz_Bh8acbDmn-sBTPZslKVUyJhldNFfjLwWd-keLZ2twRebeNspuZqJj8aV/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZ4tfuRAQMm8S1Oar1pHFb7S-FeyEzGQKzFKfymZGQx4C4tReCr3pzSGSYzA2vsdjyzkRllNVK0ZoWleEJoz_Bh8acbDmn-sBTPZslKVUyJhldNFfjLwWd-keLZ2twRebeNspuZqJj8aV/s1600/018.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine, loaner jacket, big miles for me!</td></tr>
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But the courage part? That will take some work!! I am utterly terrified of descending outside. It took a long time to get comfortable on my old roadbike, and now I'm learning all over again. Everyone goes through this right? I sure hope so. I know I need to practice, practice, practice but boy it gets in my head a little. I try to remind myself there are grandmas who can ride this IMCDA course, and if they can handle it, surely I can! At least I've worked up the courage to be able to grab my water bottle though-the first ride I didn't bring water, and there is no way I would have been brave enough to let go and grab the bottle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj475VJ9GbmVAISWmwQImKZIyPNAKA7YTYcmEN0-QdZZWhecTPQfd0RdparkGJVFqgjSIjqfMYZINMER-rnZp8MCrwGiTnH8xKVfn9pG75qcZfpIbll70Tpv4YJLEwHQG9JY6auFTg9j4ac/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj475VJ9GbmVAISWmwQImKZIyPNAKA7YTYcmEN0-QdZZWhecTPQfd0RdparkGJVFqgjSIjqfMYZINMER-rnZp8MCrwGiTnH8xKVfn9pG75qcZfpIbll70Tpv4YJLEwHQG9JY6auFTg9j4ac/s1600/019.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post long ride I came home to this treat from my man friend. Best way to end any ride.</td></tr>
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Building my heart and courage, a mile at a time!<br />
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Have you had to adjust to a new bike? Was it scary?<br />
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How do you find the courage to just let go and fly down hills? Does nobody else visualize themselves skinless in a hospital!? Just me?<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-28652151760161316062015-03-10T10:40:00.000-07:002015-03-10T10:40:47.576-07:00Snake River half marathon: an experiment in my inability to restrain myselfIn true 'non-blogger' blogger fashion, I took zero pictures at the race this weekend. I'll try to keep the recap down to a minimum since I lack selfies to prove I ran. There is no signal in the canyon so I don't bother leaving my phone on.<br />
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<a href="http://ultrasignup.com/register.aspx?did=30529">Snake River</a> is not my favorite half marathon. I've run it 4 times, largely because it's a well timed race, usually partway into a training cycle and a good time to measure my progress. It is also a very cheap race. So even though I never want to run it, I usually do. It is a pancake flat course, and in a good year, can yield an excellent PR. It just has not been the case for me, usually because I am either mid-training, or not quite fit.<br />
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This year my plan of attack was ... no attack. I intended to run at my standard long run pace and see afterward what that yielded on my heart rate monitor-without watching it religiously. Well, I forgot the heart rate strap at the start, so that was out. I started with another friend who was running easy due to a big race coming up. In hindsight, we all knew I wouldn't hold back as promised.<br />
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The start of the race was great! My long runs tend to start at a very slow pace, and on a good day, edge down. Sometimes they don't. Granted I usually have a long ride on my legs when I run on Sundays, and this being a Saturday, I had slightly fresher legs than usual. We ran a bit faster than planned, and I was feeling super comfortable and relaxed. The race is a straight out and back. The temp was in the high 40s and climbing when we started. It was warm enough to run in shorts, a tank top and arm warmers. We had a headwind going out and picked up a 3rd runner who was hoping to run sub-2... which fell right in line with our target pacing. Of course, people were passing us in droves... which usually happens to me more around the halfway point when I've run a stupid early race and am struggling. It was definitely difficult to hold back as everyone cruised by.<br />
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We stuck to our pace, albeit a little fast, but only a few seconds per mile. I had my trusty bottle of <a href="http://osmonutrition.com/store/osmo-active-hydration-women.html">Osmo Active</a> which I drink on every long run, so this was no exception. I was also eating Gu Chomps every 2 miles, which was a first with those-I did not like them though and won't be using them down the road.<br />
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As we approached the turnaround, all the leaders were flying back past us, which made it fun to cheer and holler at everyone we knew, and of course, made my legs a little anxious to move faster. I tried to keep it in check but as I neared the mats for the turnaround, my competitive side got the best of me, and I sped up (rudely dropping my friend in the process-Sorry!!! Please still be my friend!!). All of my running has been at or above 9 minute pace since I started training by heart rate. In the last 3-4 months I would say I've done MAYBE 40 minutes of running at sub-8 pace... and in 2 minute increments at the longest. I was curious to see what my legs could do.<br />
<br />
Without keeping a hawk eye on my watch, I sped up to what felt like a natural tempo pace. That's the best way I can describe it. It was harder than my usual heart rate controlled paces, but my legs were managing it and it felt well under my control. It got HOT on the way back, probably mid-50s, but when you haven't run in that, and have a slight tailwind, you'll feel it, and I was melting. I was using my arm warmers to wipe my face off. I maintained a steady pace, without working too hard to keep it (or putting much thought into it.. hooray for muscle memory!) and kept with my chomps and Osmo. Usually after a turnaround, and hitting 7 miles, no matter how good I feel 6 miles just feels so far. I also have the terrible math skills of thinking that at 8 miles I only have 4 left. Every. Time. I just ran through one mile at a time, debating between backing off my pace, or maintaining the effort. They didn't exactly fly by, but they didn't drag either. <br />
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I got a little nauseous in the last mile, and a woman I caught attempted to match my stride for maybe 3/10 of a mile. I didn't care if she passed me or not, I just didn't want her running right next to me. Eventually she dropped back a little more. I started smiling and willing myself not to puke. Mile 13 beeped as my fastest of the day and then a minute later it was done!<br />
<br />
Beforehand my coach had told me to keep it to 8s. I laughed a little when she said that, like there was any way I'd run faster?! Well, I kept it in the 8s for half! The other half, not so much, but the overall pace was still 8s, so that's something right? I ran 57:57 for the first half (an 8:50 average) and 50:51 for the back half (7:46 average) for a 1:48:48. It was exciting for me to see that my legs can still run a sub-8 pace for more than a mile, and a whopping negative split wasn't too bad either. Though it wasn't my intent to race, negative split or anything else, it was still a solid day.<br />
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That said, I definitely don't intend to race much more, if at all, before Ironman. I have a 70.3 on the radar, but that will be a beast of a different breed so I am not too concerned with 'racing'. However, having a recovery ride instead of a long ride the next day, while smart, made me sad to lose time in the saddle. And the sore hips/butt weren't much fun either. Clearly, I can't be trusted to just 'take it easy'.<br />
<br />
One of my favorite things about this race on a good day is how many teammates, friends and acquaintances run. On a bad day, it's just a tool to measure how crappy I'm feeling as certain people get further ahead. This day it was a lot of fun. This is the second time I've run this race with my boyfriend (and last year was the first time he saw how much of a sourpuss I can be when a race doesn't go my way-fortunately, I've come a long way in not being so grouchy). It's a lot of fun to have something like this that we both share an interest in.<br />
<br />
And now, less than 4 months until IMCDA!! Bring on the big weeks!!<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-27333596529167217222015-02-23T10:29:00.000-08:002015-02-23T10:29:02.031-08:00A little Monday MotivationOne of the advantages to living where I do means spending weekends on the IMCDA course. I've done a lot of training on these roads in the past, even before I was training for an ironman. However, now I pay closer attention to it, thinking of the race day that is looming ever closer. I also have the amazing benefit of a boyfriend and kid who are willing to come retrieve me when I run 'out' and refuse to come 'back'. My long run hasn't been long enough to take me to Bennett Bay hill and out to Higgins point where the turnaround is for the run course and the smaller out and back of the bike course. But yesterday was a beautiful (albeit chilly) day so I took some pictures thinking it might inspire my fellow CDA race companions! Happy Training! The course is waiting for us!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">US 95 bridge to the big (windy) loop and back into town</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It might be subtle but that little incline after 100+ miles might suck?!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sherman Avenue!!! The long (downhill) finishing stretch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey there lake, get warm! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City Beach-where it all begins</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hill that used to intimidate me. Not so much anymore!<br /> (because bigger hills)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cresting the hill just past the resort</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Free speed! (or... don't trip tired legs)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the lake </td></tr>
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-14195357319486719862015-02-12T20:20:00.001-08:002015-02-12T20:20:31.853-08:00Behind the scenes of a first time ironman-in-training10(ish) weeks into my IMCDA training and I've learned a lot. A lot. About watts. Heart rate. Shoes. Nutrition (more calories, all of them). The need for chamois butter or <a href="http://rubyslube.com/">Ruby's Lube</a>. There are things I've learned that are valuable, overwhelming, helpful and handy. But then there's just the reality of being an iron-distance athlete in training. In no particular order of importance or value... the things I've learned about life in training for IMCDA:<br />
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My hair is going to be in a bun 99% of the time. Odds are it's dirty too.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bun. Always the bun. </td></tr>
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My chin has gotten so dry from swimming that I slather it in Vitamin E oil several times a day. I keep asking my boyfriend if he still loves me even though my face looks like sandpaper.<br />
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Goggle lines will last all day. I'm accepting the fact that I will probably still have goggle lines at the Ironman finish line.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why do I always smirk like this? No goggle lines yet but rest assured they're real.</td></tr>
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<br />Oh, and swimming at lunch will SLAY you for the day. I can't hold my eyes open and my second workout feels like 'The Walking Dead'.<br /><br />
Yoga pants are where it's at. I'm not sure my quadzillas will fit into jeans much longer and I just can't bring myself to put them on anyway.<br />
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Oh, and taking 'before' pics to see my body's progression? Ouch. Reality.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBxVz50xL5CpqckIo44NJ2j-xtHBhWVA019Yg0XPNbldXlV3SjwjgnIGLgEYeH9WQrbzmuYomiiFoPb0jwBezRLarzHo2qJazAuhKPvte9LzgKq2C-8CTdobUqckYh1gWlHD5ojOpKNIT/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBxVz50xL5CpqckIo44NJ2j-xtHBhWVA019Yg0XPNbldXlV3SjwjgnIGLgEYeH9WQrbzmuYomiiFoPb0jwBezRLarzHo2qJazAuhKPvte9LzgKq2C-8CTdobUqckYh1gWlHD5ojOpKNIT/s1600/008.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They might be strong, but they are also insulated.</td></tr>
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There is a line of enough caffeine to function, without pushing my heart rate into hummingbird range. It's a very thin line.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBwInoVo4kqa8zMKg0_-fegty1IAha8uSEyThoZAaVyKZ8DqWtS-u_vaKrnkywTP1SBNv32gPKNN_6aVfU_L_E-EO36nVV6RSaOCr6l7mLnqPIb52lWyrKWDTaqimmqzYssp8v72smXUI/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBwInoVo4kqa8zMKg0_-fegty1IAha8uSEyThoZAaVyKZ8DqWtS-u_vaKrnkywTP1SBNv32gPKNN_6aVfU_L_E-EO36nVV6RSaOCr6l7mLnqPIb52lWyrKWDTaqimmqzYssp8v72smXUI/s1600/031.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the coffee. All the tea. Tazo Awake tea is my new obsession. </td></tr>
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My sugar cravings are through the roof. I never DON'T want pastries, ice cream, desserts.<br />
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I am so hungry that I sometimes dream about food. Like being in a bakery with HUGE cakes to be eaten.<br />
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I kind of expected to lose a little weight. I haven't. Actually, I've gained (muscle, right?) weight, but it's not thrilling me. (Do calories from dream food count?)<br />
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Looking for a bike isn't SO MUCH FUN YAY! It's stressful, and nauseating, and anxiety inducing. Saying "no, I'll pass, sorry" is painful for me. But I can't just buy all the bikes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCHSMJ3nWYbqCiLx5NXj8BsqLKoPKmIeNTQ0yFjnfjgeTVW9t1kZQzBu4Y-yWai73nbbsqq0L1lUTAy5jTYZd7s8iw1UYs2fSIU6-JXFSFviarpDwrmVkrZD55R_s6LoNxySmgXUaDE47/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCHSMJ3nWYbqCiLx5NXj8BsqLKoPKmIeNTQ0yFjnfjgeTVW9t1kZQzBu4Y-yWai73nbbsqq0L1lUTAy5jTYZd7s8iw1UYs2fSIU6-JXFSFviarpDwrmVkrZD55R_s6LoNxySmgXUaDE47/s1600/024.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby I still love you but I might need to see other bikes. </td></tr>
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Comparing is bullshit. Don't do it. Social media might rock in so many ways, but when it comes to seeing other people's training, it can be really discouraging if you let it.<br />
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Bike shoes you've worn for 6 years, without socks, smell awful . Like roadkill. That fell into a porta-potty. On a 90 degree day. In a swamp. Get new shoes.<br />
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Plan more food. Or you will just eat like a frat boy, and then feel like a garbage disposal.<br />
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Buy more lube. All the lube.<br />
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SLEEP! Training is like having a newborn. When your bike sleeps, you sleep. (Or you read Harry Potter til an hour past bedtime, even though you've read it 28190 times, or the Deep Dark anxiously seeing how the Silver Valley tragedy plays out)<br />
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Turn off the headphones, the netflix, the stimulus, and just pedal in the zone sometimes.<br />
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Mood swings are no joke. I get irritated whenever Jordan blames IM training for my shifty mood. But then he feeds me froyo, and it's all okay. So maybe he has a point.<br />
<br />
Running gets sooo slow. And sometimes, slow feels fast. And those days kind of suck. When it feels so fast, and then you realize your concept of fast is completely ass backward.<br />
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When your amazing team kit comes from <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur Sports</a> and you try to think of a cute way to photograph it... it comes out something like this: #makingCoeurproud #nappingundermykit<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqGAKAy_zKAyPJCKodCKavfE-DePiw26bCrPJuD5A1R3TZa_ODqouVXMoStjvwcXa1wWApKrqvbv032PbmTj6eK3SUTfpt4C_0gxJHdbHcudqS854POgKLy0rJGaggFok0Df9HhjLjFygn/s1600/IMG_2463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqGAKAy_zKAyPJCKodCKavfE-DePiw26bCrPJuD5A1R3TZa_ODqouVXMoStjvwcXa1wWApKrqvbv032PbmTj6eK3SUTfpt4C_0gxJHdbHcudqS854POgKLy0rJGaggFok0Df9HhjLjFygn/s1600/IMG_2463.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm sorry Kebby and Hailey. I had some cute idea in my head and then I fell asleep mid picture! LOVE THIS KIT!!! It's excellent to nap under too. </td></tr>
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<br />
You have to say no to things. Not everything though. But sometimes, it's okay to miss things. People will forgive you in the end. Sometimes you are working out, and sometimes, you just need to rest and relax.<br />
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But don't miss everything. Don't let training be the reason you don't get out and do things. Am I the only one who is already so tired that it's hard to be motivated for stuff? Mostly during the week. I can do a lot in a weekend.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2McwHmjr_ukQ5mldyQwLLWEcFEDmPBGIbDosm-AbkYqw400JwoTqcAUqPQrp6poyroRyhCa8E543gxLH9cJqqiJfbIwxxDrb0el0aYQAd7Vu4_wy6KdDGu1ZOGjzC6sD_8yv1zoHkeCz/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2McwHmjr_ukQ5mldyQwLLWEcFEDmPBGIbDosm-AbkYqw400JwoTqcAUqPQrp6poyroRyhCa8E543gxLH9cJqqiJfbIwxxDrb0el0aYQAd7Vu4_wy6KdDGu1ZOGjzC6sD_8yv1zoHkeCz/s1600/018.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hair did, make up did, snacks made, house cleaned, superbowl party!! </td></tr>
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Sometimes it really is a battle between eating that stick of butter, or rubbing it on your dry scaly face after a swim. (hint: neither is a correct choice)<br />
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It's still an amazing journey. I love riding, and look forward to every time I can get on the bike. That's new! I never used to look forward to my trainer. Now I love being on the bike. I feel like apologizing to Jordan on a daily basis when he is sweet and supportive of my rest, tells me to eat more, helps me out, and encourages me. I was a little less patient when he trained-granted our relationship was newer then and I selfishly wanted ALL THE TIME. I may be half asleep on my keyboard around 2:30 pm if I swam at lunch-kills me. But I love it. I. Just. Love. This.<br />
<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-21875502729243706252015-01-12T17:04:00.002-08:002015-01-12T17:04:24.552-08:00Training update: Midway through base phaseIt's become pretty clear to me I probably will not post weekly training recaps. I'm lazy, and blogging weekly about what I have done-after uploading it to Strava, updating Training Peaks, updating my spreadsheet and dissecting it with my village (coach, boyfriend, friends) it's just another place to track information and to be honest, I just don't want to.<br />
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That, and comparison is the thief of joy. I follow a few people on Strava who are also training, and some of it inspires me, and some of it makes me feel woefully behind... really? already? I'm a mere 6-7 weeks through training, I shouldn't be feeling inferior already. And because I don't want someone else to look at my training week and judge it one way or the other (or more unlikely, compare themselves to me.)<br />
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That said, weekly recaps aren't going to be a part of my Ironman journey. If anyone is just twitching with curiosity, you can find me on Strava and it's all there. Weekly over consumption of calories? That will be a part of it. I plan to just summarize progress and developments in each discipline (plus whatever else I feel is completely irrelevant).<br />
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<b>Swim:</b><br />
<br />
Most of my swims are still at masters swim, although over Christmas break, I did a few on my own. I've been working on my rotation after the coach of masters had pointed out that I swim flat. I've asked her since, and she says it looks better, so that's something! I am also focusing on my pull through the water. I am feeling a lot stronger in the water now. Thursday we did a workout including 4x25 yard swims with 5 seconds rest at each wall. The coach gave us our total time including rests, from which we subtracted 15 seconds and attempted to hit the new time in a 100 timed swim. When I hit the wall with a 2:03 and had to aim for a 1:48 swim, I was petrified. I've swum under 2:00 for 100/yd a handful of times in the pool, and not easily. I was stunned to finish with a 1:47, and on the next go-round, improved to a 1:46. This was huge for me! The 200 yard swim next was not as well paced. However, I feel more confident in my swim and super excited that a goal that seemed completely out of my reach was possible.<br />
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<b>Bike:</b><br />
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I'm getting more comfortable on the trainer! Now, I don't get agitated when it's only been 8 minutes, and I have another however many minutes to go and get me off this thing right this minute not Netflix not music nothing can distract me from this misery except concocting run on sentences obviously. I can settle in and get through a ride of varying lengths without much impatience. Sort of like when you adapt to a treadmill. Eventually, it's less awful and just necessity. I'm still not sure I have it set up right though. This is my biggest (hopefully irrational) fear: that I will not do proper training on the trainer and get outside only able to ride 10mph. Speed is a useless tool on the trainer, really, and mine is all over the map. My boyfriend noted I had the flywheel pressed too hard against my rear tire, and changed it. It improved my riding, but also made the speed faster. From my experience, everyone says their speed is slower on the trainer, so having mine read faster was also unnerving (I know. I'm seriously crazy). I try to focus on cadence and heart rate, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little (a lot) concerned with this.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FBS76lMdZk9aQ2OojRM_AxVlHvAD_KXMpkMJytFxFMfKlycoiMzNWzF3-t1Uw0-0FUYl6X9ttu2XktW0gsLq-Qb2jOcfxNv4-Ym7UTuQrMV8PNKB4Mh7QsFOZr5em0knzhsxjRQFPzSM/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FBS76lMdZk9aQ2OojRM_AxVlHvAD_KXMpkMJytFxFMfKlycoiMzNWzF3-t1Uw0-0FUYl6X9ttu2XktW0gsLq-Qb2jOcfxNv4-Ym7UTuQrMV8PNKB4Mh7QsFOZr5em0knzhsxjRQFPzSM/s1600/039.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping it real out of the pain cave. Can a girl medal in sweating? </td></tr>
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My workouts have been great and when I get off the bike with tired legs, I figure that counts for something. A friend is planning to let me use his power meter for a little while, so hopefully that will either affirm I am doing it right, or get me on the right track. I have been loving the workouts I get to do on the bike since the run is still mostly aerobic. I miss the satisfaction that comes with pushing yourself hard and nailing a tougher workout. I've definitely discovered the pain cave. I've ended intervals feeling like my legs literally cannot spin one more revolution and I'm not attached to them anymore. I have to grit my teeth, shut my eyes and just hang on for dear life. It's awesome!!!<br />
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<b>Run:</b><br />
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Oh the run. The bane of my training for the first few weeks is coming around. I've always been a runner and in my experience, it was always about pursuing pace/distance. But pace. Pace was/is always on our minds. It's been such a huge shift to focus on a sustainable ironman run rather than my continual pursuit of 'faster and faster'. Especially when it comes to comparison. I am doing exactly what I should be, and I trust the process and the build up that I am working on. However, it's a little unnerving when other athletes training for the same race are doing much longer runs at this point. I know I am doing what I should be, but it gets in my head. That said... I've had some huge breakthroughs in my run. I'm working harder on controlling the variables that impact HR-namely, alcohol... after a mimosa laden New Year's Day, I had to slog along in frustration the next day with a high HR and slooooooooow pace.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvmUpxhqW2_7l9vAMWZpDC-Z4bUWjVy-ADLGNJi2msDHiBkiq0ZQcqjVnMh2gfXlv4XAZvTxdwGGrWbdGsbDlkpKszYCobaFmO_c_jqWfsXJP_IgLEOS-AG9YzMVU0SwkMGyrlwW6ibQM/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvmUpxhqW2_7l9vAMWZpDC-Z4bUWjVy-ADLGNJi2msDHiBkiq0ZQcqjVnMh2gfXlv4XAZvTxdwGGrWbdGsbDlkpKszYCobaFmO_c_jqWfsXJP_IgLEOS-AG9YzMVU0SwkMGyrlwW6ibQM/s1600/056.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowy run after a day of mimosas = Monica having an internal foot stomping watch throwing tantrum cursing MAF</td></tr>
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Lesson learned. I've focused more on hydration and limited my caffeine consumption a little more. My afternoon runs last week were amazing. I got to run paces I hadn't run since starting this MAF/HR zone training journey. Even my easy recovery runs are getting a little faster while sustaining a lower heart rate. There are still ups and downs to it, but it was so exciting for me to finally feel a little more like a runner than a shuffle jogger. Yesterday's long run was a little more flexible in my zones, and I allowed my rate to creep up more. Overall I still finished with a very good average heart rate, but it was nice to feel the burn of pushing just a little more. I am trying to respect the importance of building the aerobic base for ironman, while still balancing that zen feeling of running in the zone a little more.<br />
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<br />
<b>Heart Rate:</b><br />
<br />
As mentioned in the run, it's starting to pay off a little more. I remind myself constantly that I am building an aerobic machine. Especially in running. These are continually slower paces than I am used to running yet I KNOW that I am running smart for my training. The chances of sustaining this effort at Ironman is much higher than my chances of sustaining low 8 pace, for instance, no matter how bad I want to just go run like I used to. If I can create this aerobic capacity, it will pay off. I am trusting the process that I will be able to sustain a solid run if I train at the proper heart rate and effort.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVNPwfFAH9Krml0OAcbaCLNgpRFuFul9jJYJ1CMx8fNtFLA6mDNcaXa25zgsEHSGIPIIX8KxSEWu25uPCJi2AF-0KadkLll-3YU5W_RzynhvUO_QbAi7WmYQ4wQOlibbUt9tB5fSW_Kp3/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVNPwfFAH9Krml0OAcbaCLNgpRFuFul9jJYJ1CMx8fNtFLA6mDNcaXa25zgsEHSGIPIIX8KxSEWu25uPCJi2AF-0KadkLll-3YU5W_RzynhvUO_QbAi7WmYQ4wQOlibbUt9tB5fSW_Kp3/s1600/031.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffeeeee I love you stop making my heart beat so fast! Only the boyfriend should cause that!</td></tr>
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<b>Food:</b><br />
<br />
ALL OF IT! I feel like I shouldn't be as hungry as I am yet, again, because I look at it like running. "I barely ran X miles today, WHY do I want to cover the couch in butter and eat it?". Just me? Anyone else? I woke up several times last night because I went to bed hungry. Trying to balance eating enough calories without overeating because I think I can have whatever I want. It's a fine line. Fortunately, I've got a boyfriend who did ironman last year and is constantly telling me to eat more (that's the dream, right ladies?!). By the time he got to the start line, he was much lighter than he probably SHOULD have been, and he's encouraging me not to do that. I may be the first athlete to toe the line without losing a pound. Not that weight loss is the goal here.<br />
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<b>All in all</b>...<br />
<br />
So far so good! I'm working on writing up my 2015 goals and intentions. Training is going great, I am happy and just tired enough. I am testing out working with my ironmentor as a coach as well now. I have my trusty little book plan, but I also trust that she knows what she's doing given how HAPPY her ironman experiences have been in the past. As that progresses I'll share more of the changes from my book to her strategies. Heart rate training is still my beast to contend with, but the plan should involve MORE RUNNING YAY! And just lots of happy training and pushing my limits. Which is already happening (hello bike pain cave). All in all, it's a pretty awesome journey so far. Now if I could just decide what pair of <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur</a> shorts I want to purchase with my gift card (fleet foxes? Blue Checkmate?)... you know, the big decisions for training.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBzjaOr40yU54eWksPKoohrcFoPvHDDdVhR6cj87HUyytGoMqG1O0MqX3tPUJuyP4age07TYWZ4JABK7YL_CZ7TWDm5TeXQ2h1tPAlSyHBQ8JkK84mYQfJ5-US5BloudhLqVNBocT8cvb/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBzjaOr40yU54eWksPKoohrcFoPvHDDdVhR6cj87HUyytGoMqG1O0MqX3tPUJuyP4age07TYWZ4JABK7YL_CZ7TWDm5TeXQ2h1tPAlSyHBQ8JkK84mYQfJ5-US5BloudhLqVNBocT8cvb/s1600/004.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get in there. Stay in there. Do all the sleeping. (Really this was just to show my mom I'd put my new sheets on the bed. Thanks mom!)</td></tr>
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-61364276201326694462015-01-05T13:45:00.001-08:002015-01-05T14:14:13.924-08:002014 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I started a 'Year in Review' type post attempting to recap the highlights of each month and got to June before I realized there was just TOO MUCH some months, and nothing other months, and I just didn't want to finish the task at hand.<br />
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So I changed my mind. No surprise there! 2014 was an awesome year. I wasn't great at taking pictures that will help my blog, but I do have pictures of a bunch of stuff I won't blog about (including, but not limited to 289180 pictures of my boyfriend becoming an Ironman, lemurs at the zoo, screen caps of text convos, and nasty sweaty selfies that nobody wants to see!)<br />
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2014 was the year I PR-ed the half marathon, finally! Not by as much as I wanted but a PR is a PR and it was hard fought. I raced without a watch, and it was as much a mental victory as anything else.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-H2XIqvyKDkyGaa_pXHpg12YJL4m0HT2fPkT7lZb8mh3uRUm3_78KBl6o13zSYSpUq_QRex-oq6eIDsuKQSTc9ZWQE8Ztpw8Vj2Q4qL8p_cNjHB9LnKMVWILn2Hcn5SsEX1uYU-l9p7DI/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-H2XIqvyKDkyGaa_pXHpg12YJL4m0HT2fPkT7lZb8mh3uRUm3_78KBl6o13zSYSpUq_QRex-oq6eIDsuKQSTc9ZWQE8Ztpw8Vj2Q4qL8p_cNjHB9LnKMVWILn2Hcn5SsEX1uYU-l9p7DI/s1600/026.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is obviously not me actually running said race, but beforehand, with the boyfriend, who also PR-ed!</td></tr>
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2014 was the year I won a 5k!<br />
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2014 was the year I had a BLAST racing the CDA Scenic Sprint triathlon!<br />
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2014 was the year I signed up for my first Ironman! CDA 2015!</div>
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2014 was the year we moved from North Spokane to Liberty Lake after 5+ years out there. Eastward bound!</div>
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2014 was NOT the year I met my boyfriend. But that was late December 2013 and we got to go through a lot of great experiences in this whole first year. I'll take more years with him please. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXI-I-wQZmqfxLd16LGPdgzcMOJXoICAw-ajntPVLpyIptnhRRWssxXTK9OGaKAACqyvEZnfPLvrx8kUPeTnjkFOI9f3aUk1xNzlVNbun3es8HAoWFKehDniAmxvHhFDHkFyGlJgJ6_6Sy/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXI-I-wQZmqfxLd16LGPdgzcMOJXoICAw-ajntPVLpyIptnhRRWssxXTK9OGaKAACqyvEZnfPLvrx8kUPeTnjkFOI9f3aUk1xNzlVNbun3es8HAoWFKehDniAmxvHhFDHkFyGlJgJ6_6Sy/s1600/002.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If a man can rock a sweater vest, you keep him around. </td></tr>
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2014 was the year I saw everyone else train hard and race! I saw my sister run huge PRs in pretty much every race she toed the line in. My mom ran her first half marathon at 58 years old. Ben did a few triathlons and PR-ed the mile! Jordan became an ironman and kicked ass at many other races. The families that race together...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDC8umdCQxxy0Yd1DLy50vlWg_iuk-U4mpb02a0GuNWZ9EPAcj9uF9rJxV_vqkP2oY-DdCceOc91Pr9uK-JD63XTX9m9TLAxpOYxk55WpXmN_elQczUidKNMgSL_yD0ZC10udtB_h9OVd/s1600/043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDC8umdCQxxy0Yd1DLy50vlWg_iuk-U4mpb02a0GuNWZ9EPAcj9uF9rJxV_vqkP2oY-DdCceOc91Pr9uK-JD63XTX9m9TLAxpOYxk55WpXmN_elQczUidKNMgSL_yD0ZC10udtB_h9OVd/s1600/043.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZ9KbbeAjk_kT5POE3XMzoYKCZvunTrfG8OCPhcng9WPr1LhZL8ovGA1IQ2Fd_JuF-dgNSRzp8fnjejoQVdVS2Ibq_0hgHmoXqw9jypxL4kZZsJfhnDQZWiqUnZieRoIDRlKDvFy6bipt/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZ9KbbeAjk_kT5POE3XMzoYKCZvunTrfG8OCPhcng9WPr1LhZL8ovGA1IQ2Fd_JuF-dgNSRzp8fnjejoQVdVS2Ibq_0hgHmoXqw9jypxL4kZZsJfhnDQZWiqUnZieRoIDRlKDvFy6bipt/s1600/022.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousins tri together</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVZxI-w20Za_57cabY7hCpaAm5R6UYatdAsiGtp9ysP7QY3VN72Vf_5Ma7LEEV2Hr_iTn_p1ZS6dyUaIgGZbqfto6frtjglhZpsK_PsQvPo0nNkdZjwPlNHinLfS4TlGc2mpn2NN-HbMV/s1600/060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVZxI-w20Za_57cabY7hCpaAm5R6UYatdAsiGtp9ysP7QY3VN72Vf_5Ma7LEEV2Hr_iTn_p1ZS6dyUaIgGZbqfto6frtjglhZpsK_PsQvPo0nNkdZjwPlNHinLfS4TlGc2mpn2NN-HbMV/s1600/060.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom the half marathoner!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkeDvwCfWBEdHvHHmLStfz-yyTmEVCAAFdHZRlgIt-IF3ZFmYCCpCiuY6PMea6cnhf13jQ7LqaJYeFLXRbTvAqGDSpwp-cMD1M7G_umCJpYF1tZH7nMDP0SNy0gJPWk4TTbkST3JG__L4/s1600/076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkeDvwCfWBEdHvHHmLStfz-yyTmEVCAAFdHZRlgIt-IF3ZFmYCCpCiuY6PMea6cnhf13jQ7LqaJYeFLXRbTvAqGDSpwp-cMD1M7G_umCJpYF1tZH7nMDP0SNy0gJPWk4TTbkST3JG__L4/s1600/076.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh hey, just getting 3rd place like NBD<br />
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2014 was the year I found out I'll be a<a href="http://www.coeursports.com/"> COEUR SPORTS </a>ambassador for 2015!! I spent 2+ months anxiously waiting after submitting my application to hear the announcement and I think I had an actual joy attack (this is like a panic attack, but of excitement!) to <a href="http://sweetsweatlife.com/">Erin</a> when the announcement came down. Following her is how I found Coeur to begin with (not to mention a fabulous friend and mentor in Erin herself). I swear their apparel has magical powers of feeling strong, fast, and let's face it, pretty. Because that matters (don't pretend it doesn't). When you 'feel fast' you race strong! I am so proud and honored to get the chance to be a part of an amazing team and represent company for 2015. Making the team was a huge highlight of my year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiepjSFRKJSlKpfC2Z_3WDfXGJYL5X4XzpPDQ-j3SzzWB3lLG7RUfb7z7ZUL9rWFFdNlUTyvZZixx7vE5LvOFeYhNnmQ_mRegKCKHRu3ysky5aPqEY8cG18lb61VScHVkZduelY8-7gMO/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiepjSFRKJSlKpfC2Z_3WDfXGJYL5X4XzpPDQ-j3SzzWB3lLG7RUfb7z7ZUL9rWFFdNlUTyvZZixx7vE5LvOFeYhNnmQ_mRegKCKHRu3ysky5aPqEY8cG18lb61VScHVkZduelY8-7gMO/s1600/003.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best. Hoodie. Ever. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3xNL4IhkMBnkWof3cX316Xs9d_6YvaOZo_WD1D8GoXtvWgKh1_K-s060tCGuDYHVhy-NF8tQ4evX0V8HCmHRlHymyKDYkcLoXnwY3sLUSP1ms9xA53rXPfPxNk9A6Mcz5mO9ILie8WYH/s1600/163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3xNL4IhkMBnkWof3cX316Xs9d_6YvaOZo_WD1D8GoXtvWgKh1_K-s060tCGuDYHVhy-NF8tQ4evX0V8HCmHRlHymyKDYkcLoXnwY3sLUSP1ms9xA53rXPfPxNk9A6Mcz5mO9ILie8WYH/s1600/163.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coeur Chevron kit!! And bucket sized hat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJRfnaqLlrxqzURe5zLAfGl9Vg4XEMjbQdwhbnI3ncEo_ErChJDBbW0sGbJ5Tk7bsy6pMe-zoHVBnV0KcovbOGzyi08FqkbIXdICm2wrlJ4iqMuLRC5vPocWXiAGsvjPTtQFuKqNKrx-e/s1600/132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJRfnaqLlrxqzURe5zLAfGl9Vg4XEMjbQdwhbnI3ncEo_ErChJDBbW0sGbJ5Tk7bsy6pMe-zoHVBnV0KcovbOGzyi08FqkbIXdICm2wrlJ4iqMuLRC5vPocWXiAGsvjPTtQFuKqNKrx-e/s1600/132.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't scientifically prove that wearing my Coeur kit caused this AG win but... I'm not a scientist so it was totally the kit! </td></tr>
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2014 was the year that challenged me. It had highs and lows. But neither was especially high or low. It was a smooth year. There were amazing moments and memories I love. There were times I had to learn how to handle things differently than I used to, and grow more. </div>
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It was a really good year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZIQYhhNeDpLkHmwGetdufJxRwpfMEZeOSw929NTgR69DSqbzSr4yXzadmigm-jjPV26t-5Jtm65cJGdhzfLyCGJvbnJj9urjkK5mWEhKq-RAH2U0zJIEo8dQjfvYFblwLN6FMCnlkEnD/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZIQYhhNeDpLkHmwGetdufJxRwpfMEZeOSw929NTgR69DSqbzSr4yXzadmigm-jjPV26t-5Jtm65cJGdhzfLyCGJvbnJj9urjkK5mWEhKq-RAH2U0zJIEo8dQjfvYFblwLN6FMCnlkEnD/s1600/008.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Byeeeee 2014</td></tr>
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But then, 2015 is the year they put 'Friends' on Netflix. So it's hard to beat that! </div>
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Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-32291376960025254042014-12-12T11:43:00.000-08:002014-12-12T11:48:16.991-08:00The jumping off point: Not really a training recapThe first week of my official training plan for IMCDA is behind me! The workouts were short and manageable (I'm being lured into a false sense of 'I can handle this!'.) but the week itself was kind of a mess. This post will be kind of a mishmash of what's going on the first week of training, and a brief mention of the actual workouts. I haven't really decided how much detail I want to provide in my recaps of training.<br />
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Training this week kicked off with a rest day Monday!! My training weeks are written Mon-Sun and I liked having a rest day. At first I felt a little lame beginning my training with a big fat 0 in the training spreadsheet, and I had considered a short run because this week's workouts, as I said, were short, so rearranging, or throwing in a 20 min run wouldn't have been a huge issue. I ended up having a ton of errands to handle though (including taking my car for emissions and renewing my horribly overdue tabs. Whoops?!) so the rest day stood.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIXF9zJWUFdhGkH9nzZ9jP-CrOlQY51BNbyavv_zbPv-h94510TTTvqezBKeMI5qx9ANlJG8BXKTsYF5MCtLAnH4vXTSlz0MEsvO0AjxiYqMdl0aCypB2KErVpVQWVdjDomhBUIOE2RSt/s1600/037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIXF9zJWUFdhGkH9nzZ9jP-CrOlQY51BNbyavv_zbPv-h94510TTTvqezBKeMI5qx9ANlJG8BXKTsYF5MCtLAnH4vXTSlz0MEsvO0AjxiYqMdl0aCypB2KErVpVQWVdjDomhBUIOE2RSt/s1600/037.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plan. The food. </td></tr>
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As far as swimming goes, I haven't been in the water since August for my sprint tri, and only about 2-3 swims before that-none longer than about a half mile of swimming. My first lunch swim this week was ROUGH. My shoulders were burning before I made 100 yards, and my splits on my watch weren't exactly promising. I kept reminding myself "what if this was your first run in 4-5 months? what if you had only run 3-4x this year?" which helped me keep my focus in check. That is why the road to ironman is so long. I wish I had been swimming sooner, but it's okay that I wasn't.<br />
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The second swim of the week was at Master's swim! That was intimidating as all get out. I emailed the coach beforehand to ask her/reveal my skill level and make sure I wouldn't be a hindrance to the class. She reassured me I would fit right in, so I showed up, nerves and all. There were only a handful of women there, since most athletes are still slowly coming back from off season. This allowed me some extra 1:1 time with the coach though, which I greatly appreciated. She told me she didn't see any major issues with my stroke, and it actually looked "really good" and that she had been under the impression my swim would be a lot worse than it actually was. Turns out though, that I swim flat, and need to work on body rotation. I started working on this and whoa wake up call! It feels so exaggerated and awkward to rotate enough for her to say "that looks right".<br />
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On to #bikelove! Since summer, I have been increasing my rides, and simply spending more time in the saddle than ever before. My bike, which is named Baby, as in "Nobody puts Baby in the corner" because she spent a lot of time in corners, has seen more of my butt than in the last 5 years combined. I've LOVED my bike time, other than the saddle! I was battling some numbness this summer when my ironman boyfriend set me up for a bike fit at the shop he goes to. That included testing a couple different saddles, and finally deciding to try the Cobb V Flow Plus. We took our bikes out the next day to ride a portion of the IMCDA course, and by the last 8 or so miles, I was almost in tears from the pain of the saddle. I was miserable for the next few days, we pulled the saddle and tried another, with no luck. Then I tried his saddle with no split in it, and it was worse. I went back to my stock Scott Contessa saddle and it was okay, but I was sitting pretty far back on the seat, and not using my legs and booty to power myself enough (in my opinion, I'm no expert). After chatting with my ironyoda, I went back to the shop and asked to try the <a href="http://www.cobbcycling.com/shop/roadsaddles/fifty-five_jof">Cobb JOF 55</a>. I was prepared to give it a few weeks, and not assess based on one ride. I bought chamois butter and feared the worst for my lady bits. But, I am in love. This saddle is amazing for me!! I definitely have some residual soreness from adjusting to new pressure points, but I am much more forward 'Off the Front' as the saddle promises, and I don't find myself adjusting repeatedly. I have made an effort to sit up and back on the saddle as well since duh, IMCDA boasts some climbing that will require that position as well. Between the saddle and my undying love of <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/collections/triathlon">Coeur's seamless chamois</a>, I'm a happy camper!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROfOjUZLSCa-scN524Qe300t8HgJR0vILo4gsyD5uc1iMCAmyeAKdVqwwI2HR94DCaBHVyGmrdnoFZ8_I95yHYSxnWnaQnTA8Uxl5W8SCqSZTldlyjxXeIqrR6rqFDfyJw0NlMMXQZggW/s1600/009.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROfOjUZLSCa-scN524Qe300t8HgJR0vILo4gsyD5uc1iMCAmyeAKdVqwwI2HR94DCaBHVyGmrdnoFZ8_I95yHYSxnWnaQnTA8Uxl5W8SCqSZTldlyjxXeIqrR6rqFDfyJw0NlMMXQZggW/s1600/009.PNG" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used a video to check my form and saddle position! And #noangrykitty</td></tr>
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Running of course, is my comfort zone. I'm working on adjusting to heart rate training though. *Cough Cough* I'm choking on all the pride I have to swallow to accept the paces I'm running. For now, I am utilizing the MAF 180 formula for my numbers. I keep reminding myself I don't have to be fast right now... and that if I could maintain the pace I'm running now at Ironman, it would be a dream. But, it's also within the realm of possibility. I'm not training at a pace that would be completely out of reach on a perfect race day. That is how I stay patient.<br />
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The only messy part was that, in typical Monica form, I fell down the stairs! Thursday morning I was (slowly, cautiously) carrying my cereal and coffee down the stairs and I slipped, landed hard on my back, hit my head AND spilled everything all over the new carpet. Fortunately it wasn't as bad as summer's fall, but still did some damage to my ragdoll neck. Fortunately, I still got in all the workouts without hindrance, but what a way to start!<br />
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My recaps will probably change format without so much 'background' needed (did anybody need it anyway??) but this first week totaled 6 hours of training and a few doubles.<br />
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I am ALREADY so grateful for the mentors and role models I have, both close and far, who are going to be seriously invaluable to this journey.<br />
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And away we go!Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-2687656349871199182014-11-13T11:06:00.002-08:002014-11-13T11:06:41.782-08:00Thoughts on the Hanson Marathon MethodA lot of my running happened before I started blogging. My two best marathons (okay, ALL my marathons) were run without training recaps!<br />
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If an 18-week marathon cycle is run, and never recapped did it really happen? Yes! Any time someone on Twitter (or anywhere) mentions choosing a training cycle, or the Hanson Marathon Method comes up in the conversation, I jump right on it. I am a strong believer in their training method and philosophy. But, sadly, I wasn't a blogger for the two races I have used their training plan. The best thing I can do now is attempt to recap and review my experiences (and answer ALL the questions!)</div>
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The first time I decided to use their method was after reading <a href="http://www.runnersworld.com/race-training/new-year-new-you-way-renegades?page=single">New Year New You: Way of the Renegades </a> in Runner's World. In January of 2011. I was intrigued, but a marathon wasn't on my agenda. At that point running was barely on my agenda. I had run the Portland Marathon in 2010 and had only run a handful of times since. I saved the article and the plan anyway. I slowly started getting back into shape around March, "raced" a 12k in early May and then jumped into a 6 week quick ramp up to a half marathon. I was training with my sister for her first half, and we had the goal of finishing, nothing else. We ran our half marathon in mid-June and she began toying with a full. We discussed Tri-Cities (a small race a few hours from home in late October). I hadn't intended to run another full, but not so shockingly, the marathon sucked me in anyway. My sister and I both decided to use the article and included training plan. </div>
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For that first training cycle, I used the article. I didn't read their book. Our paces were loosely determined at first. We had no idea what our 10k pace should be and we aimed for simply "sub-8 min pace" in our early workouts. She was training for a 4 hour finish, and I was hoping to run a 3:45. My sister followed the plan strictly. In the interest of full disclosure, I did not necessarily do so. I joined a local women's running team midway through training. At this time, instead of following the Hanson's Tuesday speed workouts, I replaced them with the workouts of the group. I also made some variations to the Saturday workouts, occasionally participating in the 'Swifts' workouts instead of simply running easy mileage. Usually this included things like 10 x 1 min pick-ups. I did match the mileage the rest of the time. And the most important part: I abided by the 16 mile long run and did not run further. One 16 mile training run was actually a 25k trail race. On a mountain. That I ended up walking/hiking a large majority of. My paces this training cycle were a little more willy-nilly. I stuck with the goal marathon pace (around 8:25) for Thursday's runs but on occasion, my other runs would be faster. It was all over the map at times. Running with the team had caused me to progress a lot more than I had expected. </div>
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Long story short there, I raced my unicorn race. It was perfection. I ran a 1-minute negative split which to me is about as good as it gets. I exceeded my pre-race goal of 3:45 and finished in 3:35.22 feeling strong the whole way, no wall to speak of. My sister also executed a great race, finishing in 3:47 with about a 5 minute negative split.<br />
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In 2013 I raced the Eugene marathon with the same plan, based off the book. I followed the advanced plan as it was my 4th marathon. I read it cover to cover more than once, trying to beat into my brain their philosophy on the easy days. I would say I followed it with 97% accuracy. I raced a half marathon about 8 weeks out from Eugene but continued with the plan as written before and after. I missed/altered a few runs due to aches and pains or sickness. As my <a href="http://runningtowardcoffee.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2014-07-03T10:33:00-07:00&max-results=7">throwback recap</a> explains, my taper week was a disaster. All things considered, I executed a pretty solid race despite the setbacks, finishing in 3:37.05.<br />
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What I love about this plan:<br />
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-The overall mileage. A lot of marathoners, especially newer marathoners run less mileage than this plan will have. For some that works. I learned I thrive on higher mileage. The first time around I peaked around 57 miles in a week. The second time, I hit a 63 mile peak week. I felt amazing. Once I broke that 50 mile barrier I felt stronger than before. For me, the volume was a huge game changer.<br />
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-The easy days. I didn't take these as easy as I should have, but I was conscious of my efforts on those days. I was proud of my slower days, knowing there would be another hard workout to push myself. I diligently focused on keeping a pace at least 30 seconds/mile slower than goal pace and paid attention to my perceived effort. I was coached personally in my most recent marathon instead of following HMM again, and there was a lack of proper easy days. I paid the price for pushing hard too much. The easy runs MATTER!!<br />
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-Marathon paced tempo. These are a weekly run, beginning with 6 miles and increasing to 10 miles by the end. I ran the same route every time that I felt simulated the Eugene course. I struggled with watch stalking on these, shooting for a 7:58-8:02 range and was all over the place mentally. Eventually I allowed a faster pace (7:51-52) which felt natural, and I could click off mile after mile without adjustment. While I didn't run my race at this pace, I felt that the effort I put into the runs matched what they had written, and saved me from the frustration of trying to keep a pace.<br />
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-Speed/strength days. Goes without saying, I love me some speed work. The longer strength intervals were fun too! The paces were a step back from what I was used to running with my group (aiming for more of a half marathon or 10 seconds slower than marathon pace, whereas I was used to 10k paced long intervals). My mantra for all of these days was 'control'. It was too easy to want to push. An interval begs to be pushed, to see what you can do with it. I had set paces that I KNEW I could nail and control was the word to keep me checked in.<br />
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-That 16 mile long run. This is the one thing that turns a lot of athletes away from the plan. "What? Only 16? But... but... the marathon is 10 (!!) miles longer than that! How?!". My sister using the plan as a first time marathoner speaks to this. 16 is enough. If you read the book they detail the reasons why a long run should only be 25-30% of your weekly volume, not 50%. I have trained with a 20 mile plan, so I can compare them, and this was effective.<br />
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Overall, this plan boosted my confidence so much. Even with the shorter 16 mile long run, knowing I had run a 63 mile week (including a 14 mi Thursday with the tempo plus warm up and cooldown). I was willing to run longer cooldowns to increase my mileage, and more importantly, I had the strength after the workout to do so. I wasn't shuffling through a half mile cool down just to get it done.<br />
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I would highly recommend the Hanson Marathon Method to ANYONE! I am also happy to answer questions more in depth about my experience and training with it!<br />
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Happy Racing!</div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-77000597593932017762014-10-21T08:43:00.002-07:002014-10-21T08:43:55.704-07:00It's okay. Do you ever feel like you need to sit yourself down with a cup of coffee, and talk to yourself like you are a friend? Does that make me sound crazy? I'm hard on myself. A lot. I've been reading (slowly, and still with flawed absorption) <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1592407331/?tag=googhydr-20&hvadid=28633643607&hvpos=1t1&hvexid=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=2467475463167040425&hvpone=13.35&hvptwo=&hvqmt=b&hvdev=c&ref=pd_sl_8108ub20xj_b">Daring Greatly</a> by the wicked smart and sassy Brene Brown. Side note: read this book. Then read it again. Take notes. Watch her TED talks. She's so smart, and so spot on. What I've picked up from this book (besides EVERYTHING) is that I am HARD on myself. If I talked to my friends, my loved ones, the way I talk to myself... I wouldn't want to talk to me.<br />
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So I have my cup of coffee. And the things I would say to myself if I was talking to a beloved friend.<br />
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It's okay. I know it's hard, I know sometimes you feel inferior, incapable and lost. You feel like you can't juggle all the balls in the air above you... and it's okay. You are doing the best that you can. You know that, right? You are doing your best. Maybe it doesn't feel like it today, maybe it feels like a hot mess, but you are doing it. You can do it. You got this.<br />
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You are a good mom. A GREAT mom even. Sure, you don't always do it perfectly. Sometimes you snap. Sometimes your words are harsh, and his little face falls in pain. That feeling when it happens SUCKS. But you don't have to be perfect. Find the words that make his face light up. Don't worry, you aren't damaging him permanently because you were a little bit 'mean mommy' about him picking up the things on the floor, or putting his bowl in the dishwasher after you asked 5x. He needs to listen. You can speak a little kinder next time, and you can hug him now, every day, all the time, and tell him you love him, but that you need him to listen to you. You are a good mom. It's okay to misstep sometimes. It's okay that you aren't perfect, nobody is.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You did this. You are raising a great son.</td></tr>
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It's okay not to know what you are doing with life. To have 28190 ideas of what you want to be when you grow up, not pursue any of those ideas, change your mind constantly, and never stop dreaming. Sure, you're 31, and most people have college degrees by now. Some have multiple degrees. You don't have to know. You do you. You are making a living, and you are chasing the goals you have outside of the job world. You don't have to be ambitious with a career. It's okay to be better at running a household than running a bank. And it's definitely okay to want that. If you want to sweep kitchens, cook dinners, grocery shop, do the laundry, and run a house, it's okay! You don't HAVE to climb a corporate ladder. If you want to climb though, then do it! Find the job, the path, and GO! But if you don't? It's okay. It doesn't make you less of a 'modern woman' to accept your gifts for what they are.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Were you working? Eh."</td></tr>
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You have to be selfish. Selfish is such a harsh word though. It's all negative, and implies greed. You have to choose you sometimes. Do you want to wind up on 'The Biggest Loser' as the contestant who put everyone else first and ate her feelings? You do that anyway, so go for the run. Fitness isn't selfish. Yes, you lose some time with Ben, but the mom he gets back is way better than the mom who never went for a run. Yes, Ironman is going to be a CHALLENGE as a single mom but you can do it. It's awesome for Ben to see you dream big, and chase big goals. It teaches him early that you can do whatever you want. That dreaming big crazy out of reach dreams is not only possible, but AWESOME! It will show him that he can do it too. He can be whatever he wants to be, do whatever he wants to do. That is an important lesson to teach.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chase your dreams, and he'll chase his.</td></tr>
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You ARE enough. Even as imperfect as you are. Yes, you mess up. A lot sometimes. But you are still enough. You don't have to be like someone else. It's okay that you cry over stupid things. That you cry a lot. It's just who you are. It doesn't mean you're weak, it's just you. It's okay to let things get to you. It's okay to feel it all. Sure, there are other people who handle life differently. There are pros and cons to both, but this is who you are. Don't try to smother it, or be someone else. Be you. You. Are. Enough. I can't tell you that enough times. You are enough. As you are. You will change, and learn, and grow. Someday the things that made you cry won't. Someday, new things will make you cry. But it is okay to feel so much. It's good. It's a victory to be soft and caring in a world that would tell you not to be.<br />
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Stop waiting for the day you suddenly change and become the woman who has adorable fashion like all the pinterest models. Your yoga pants are fine! Sure, you always think someday you'll suddenly have perfect outfits, a perfectly decorated home, a nice clean car and look all chic. You probably won't. Let's just accept that and move on. It's okay if this is your normal. It's okay if it never looks like something else. It's okay that you rarely do makeup or hair. It's okay to just be the woman you are, because you're still beautiful, and there are people who see you clearer than you see yourself.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You want to wear this every day? Do it! Undecorated house? Who cares.</td></tr>
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Love. Love with everything you have. Never let your cynical side trump your optimism. Be who you want to be. People love you for exactly who you are, the good, the bad, the ugly and the crazy. You don't have to have everything perfect. I know you thought by now you'd have it together. The picture probably looked different than it turned out, but you know you have a great life? You really do. Don't worry so much about letting people down, or disappointing them. It's your life, you answer for it. We all make mistakes. It's okay that sometimes yours are more visible. And you know what? In the end, they aren't remembered as a mistake. They are the things that make you who you are. Nobody is looking at Ben now and thinking "she made a mistake when she was 21". They are thinking "this kid is awesome, and so cool to have in our lives". Don't beat yourself up over the things that have happened. So you said the wrong thing. So you miscommunicated. So you overreacted. It happens, and it'll happen again. Roll with it and keep going.<br />
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Just keep going. You are enough. It's okay. It sounds like a bundle of cliched mantras... but it's the simple little words that matter the most. I love you, you're beautiful, you're amazing, and you're strong. You are a badass. Keep going. Don't worry so much. You are enough.<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-49713313628421562432014-10-07T12:05:00.000-07:002014-10-07T12:09:33.583-07:00Portland 2010I have spent a good amount of time wondering how to write what I want to write, or even if I should. I think "this is not my story to tell" and telling it makes it feel like a blatant request for sympathy. It is not that. And while I can say it's not my story, a part of it is my story, and always will be.<br />
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Four years ago I was training for the Portland Marathon. It would be my second marathon, and my goals had progressed from simply to train and PR from my 4:41 to bigger goals. I registered with a 4:15 goal. I set a sub-4 goal as I began training, and eventually the stretch goal to BQ (at the time 3:40.59). Training went so well, and I felt pretty confident in my goals. I PR-ed the half with a 1:45 a month out from Portland, and I was ready.<br />
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The Monday before the race, I got a text that set the rest of the week onto a path I couldn't have foreseen. I could have handled that week differently than I did, perhaps. But I don't think I would have. For everything I can remember with painful clarity, I don't remember the exact words of that message. But it told me something was wrong with my dear friend's son. This friend I had met a few years before. We were both single parents to little boys, and I babysat his little one from time to time when he needed it. We connected simply due to our circumstances and lives. We dated off and on, somewhat hindered by baggage we each had.<br />
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I could relive all the details of that week, but I won't. The situation itself is a matter of public record. While there was a lot of confusion at the beginning, the truth came out that the babysitter of little C had pushed him down in frustration, and he had hit his head. It caused bleeding in his brain and he was immediately unconscious. It was the kind of nightmare that you see in a Law and Order: SVU episode. You don't see it happen to people you love. Little C, who I had seen 2 days before at a softball game chasing Ben around getting into mischief, was in trouble.<br />
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What followed was spending almost every hour I could at the hospital, staying by his dad's side. I could have visited once or twice, I could have told him I was so sorry, offered to help and be there a bit. But that's not me. It seemed like the right thing to do, the right place to be. My mom cautioned me not to throw away my training in the last week, which was mostly coffee, occasional snacks, a few short runs, a few hours of sleep and constant care of others. She might have been right, but I did what I did. I stayed late into the night. I brought coffees or milkshakes to people. I sat and held my friend's hand, and listened to so much information that I can't imagine hearing as a parent. I shared the grief. I tried so hard to shoulder as much of the burden as I could. I sped back to the hospital one night, doing 90 past a cop who somehow exited the freeway without pursuing me when it came time to say goodbye. I saw the last rites. I held this precious boy's hand and stroked his hair and tickled his feet and said my goodbye. And I walked out of the hospital Friday evening next to a parent who was doing the most impossible thing I can imagine: letting go of a child. It was some of the heaviest grief I have ever witnessed or felt.<br />
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Every year, I still feel it. Every October I remember the dates of that first notification, that last night we left the hospital, and everything in between. I boarded a plane the next morning and flew to Seattle then drove to Portland for my marathon. I was in a fog. I couldn't not think about it. I woke up Saturday with a cold (no surprise, given how little I'd taken care of myself) and with that time of the month. I was exhausted, sick, and facing a marathon. A race I had worked so hard for, and that now felt like a mountain to climb. This was 2010, so anyone who ran Portland that year knows. It was the rainy year. I learned that day just how much 26.2 miles of grieving and weird joy can feel. C was free, at least. The waiting of the last week was over. There was finality, instead of questions. I ran for Cohen. I wrote those words on my arm in magic marker and I ran for him, and for all the pain and emotion of that last week. I thought of him as I ran past the train yards. I talked to him about the trains. I cried in the later miles of the marathon. From the sheer physical pain of the task at hand, from the joy of running a marathon, from grief, from release. I cried when I crossed that finish line cold, wet and alone.<br />
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I came home from that race feeling a sense of peace. I had had time (3 hours and 56 minutes) truly alone with my thoughts and feelings. I was ready to be strong for his dad, to hold his hand and support him as best I could through the next week. Through the storm of emotion, and information, and decisions. Through the candlelight vigil, the funeral mass, the fundraiser. Through the weeks and months that followed. Eventually, I was no longer strong enough to bear the weight. We made the decision to part ways, and after that, I chose not to attend the sentencing of the babysitter. I chose distance, and let that be the way to move forward. I haven't seen or spoken to the majority of the people I came to love since then. I am far removed from the people, but not from this time of year.<br />
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Every October, it weighs on me. I remember it. Small details, insignificant seeming moments that were the end of a life cut tragically short. Death is hard. It is always hard, and truly, I think it is no easier to look at a life fully lived and think it's less painful than one cut so short. Watching my little man grow I remember the age C would have been. I think of the moments his family doesn't get to share with him. This is the sort of sadness I won't forget any time soon. Sometimes I feel guilty, because I am no longer connected with everyone who went through it that I should not feel so much anymore. But that's not true, and I know that. That I remember this little boy every year, on more days than not keeps his memory alive. It is easier to remember, even if that hurts, than to forget.<br />
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<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-46507235429096976842014-09-12T07:43:00.003-07:002014-09-12T07:43:58.093-07:00EvolutionAfter what felt like years, but was actually weeks (or maybe just hours, once I was honest with myself) I made the decision not to continue to train for the Portland Marathon. I knew in my heart from that first disjointed post that it was the right decision to make. But, we are endurance athletes. We don't quit when the going gets tough. We don't back down from a challenge. We push through a lot to reach our goals. It was a battle of wills in my head. The runner who didn't want to be seen as a quitter, to feel like a quitter. Who didn't want to give up an entry fee, a marathon, a training cycle. For once though, the smarter part of my brain won out. I talked through the decision with several other people, all of whom offered support and encouragement to my ability to run the marathon, but also those who could see it more clearly, and who told me it was okay not to race. It was okay to step back. It was okay. After waffling through all the possible outcomes, I knew I wouldn't race. 3.5-4 hours is a loooooooooong morning when your heart isn't in it. Mine wouldn't be. I struggled even to get out the door and run. The apathy was all consuming while the decision hung over my head.<br />
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Now that the decision is made, I'm sort of at the mercy of my training whims right now. Which is interesting. I've always been a runner, always. I have my lovely little road bike, but rarely, if ever, do I see cyclists out on the road and think "I want to be riding!". When I see runners, I always want to be running.<br />
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This year though, things have changed (and oh Thank God!) and I constantly want to be out on my bike. Every day I think "I want to ride!!" even if I don't get a chance. I say Thank God because I have an infinitely increasing amount of bike bonding coming my way the next several months. So, it's a relief to have that passion to be on the bike growing.<br />
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Running has always been my haven. It still is, but lately, my haven has been infiltrated by external goals. Every run, no matter how good or inspiring or bad, felt like it was measured for it's value. It was no longer a place where I could clear my head, and zone out. Then, slowly, the bike has become that haven. Before this year I could count the number of rides I did in any given calendar year on one, maybe two hands. It was never many. I assumed I wasn't a good cyclist because I didn't improve. Oh, really? If I only ran 5-10 times a year, what kind of runner would I be?! Then it clicked. Right now though, it's just about bike joy.<br />
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It's not about improving just yet. Some days, it's about 'how low can I keep my HR' just for fun. But mostly, it's just about riding! I LOVE tucking down into aero position, and just cruising! I have found that rhythm with pedaling where it feels like I'm really riding instead of dawdling and forgetting to keep pedaling. My cadence sensor is dead, so I really have no idea what I'm doing. I rarely look at my Garmin until it's all over. I just ride. And ride. And daydream about IMCDA. About the long rides. I drink my <a href="http://osmonutrition.com/store/products.html?cat=women">Osmo</a> every ride to practice, and I think it might be the magic elixir, every ride seems to be infinitely better with that in the bottle (and faster! Science?). I purchased my first ever actual triathlon apparel from <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur Sports</a> so every time I get on the bike, I feel like a legit triathlete (with no angry kitty) in the most comfortable tri clothing I've ever put on. Sometimes I visualize racing. But mostly, I just stay in the moment, the mile. It feels like freedom. Like peace. I don't stop smiling (and have inhaled the bugs to prove it-protein?) and sometimes, I'm ashamed to admit I hang my tongue out of my mouth like a puppy with her head out the window. Or like Miley Cyrus. Either way I'm sure the other riders are not amused by my antics. I sing out loud to whatever song I'm listening to. Free concert folks, you're welcome.<br />
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I wasn't sure I'd see the day where I evolved from the runner who <i>wanted </i>to do triathlon, but wasn't willing to sacrifice the weekly mileage, or all the running PR goals I held so dear, into the athlete who was eager to saddle up and ride, mileage be damned. I might be in love with my bike.<br />
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I'm so ready for this journey! Except I need to get a few (dozen) more pairs of Coeur shorts...Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-16623805502804722702014-08-25T22:09:00.001-07:002014-08-26T09:45:14.625-07:00A year of gratitude<i>Disclaimer: This isn't really running specific. It's mom specific. I did throw mama-hood into my tagline though, so it's totally permissible to talk about mamahood. </i><br />
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There is, I suppose, a certain amount of background needed since I haven't really completed my section of 'the mom story' on here. It's hard to know how to write that. How much to share. The story is no secret, and if there is one area in my life that I am not sensitive or thin-skinned in, it's the story of how I came to be a single mom. No question fazes me. There are no secrets. That said, it's not a story I run around bombarding people with, unless asked.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating 30 with my main man</td></tr>
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The brief overview is that kidlet's father has never been involved. He has never met kidlet, or had any interaction. For the first 5 years, I didn't receive child support, and he stayed way off the grid. Eventually though, the courts found him and he had a job! They enforced the child support order and suddenly, I had help. At least financially. I was thrilled. We've always gotten by, but that extra every month was definitely a big boost. We were a little bit ahead. It felt like floating, instead of floundering. Eventually, I trusted that income. I made life changes that relied on that income. I took a new job, that was a better fit, but involved a pay cut. I made up for it with that support.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0TZ2mkYgpUofD25ROP1MSFUXtUlr9IlwE3aV0uPZPofp9co1DPNZWCRfYOZMBE3Cy7-VpyrzAR6Kz65-6Pr4M9M-Z7mdCx46D8KTT4G5vLJOK5ymbTqpQpJFWpp_oWmlgI-P2DRdwKhi7/s1600/Picture+085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0TZ2mkYgpUofD25ROP1MSFUXtUlr9IlwE3aV0uPZPofp9co1DPNZWCRfYOZMBE3Cy7-VpyrzAR6Kz65-6Pr4M9M-Z7mdCx46D8KTT4G5vLJOK5ymbTqpQpJFWpp_oWmlgI-P2DRdwKhi7/s1600/Picture+085.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our own in our first 'home' (not apartment)</td></tr>
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<br />
On top of that, I was hearing from the father. Not regularly, but he would reach out every few months. I left a guarded invitation to meet Ben at some point, with stipulations, but that was never acted upon. He sent Christmas gifts "from Santa" to help. He sent me occasional Starbucks cards. He was available when I needed information about his elementary years, trying to understand struggles we were facing. It was nowhere near a second parent, but it was someone who was at least making a small effort. Others were skeptical, but I was accepting of this. It was better than nothing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtofdMQJaAIdYeU9BaV1zk0527sn4rc2JCPt4S4U_cv2qLRXZ285yJVtB6N0x2ioCQnSG99KERxMgkrPDsG07apWc0e7vPc6TgIGu5JOlkdhrwsU4RtmDV6ZOXh2vU8zqioOyj-OQVo4M/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbtofdMQJaAIdYeU9BaV1zk0527sn4rc2JCPt4S4U_cv2qLRXZ285yJVtB6N0x2ioCQnSG99KERxMgkrPDsG07apWc0e7vPc6TgIGu5JOlkdhrwsU4RtmDV6ZOXh2vU8zqioOyj-OQVo4M/s1600/010.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mother's Day</td></tr>
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<br />
A year ago, I reached out for the first time ever to ask for more money. Just a little for school shopping. He agreed but tried to flake out. I was relentless and eventually got my little extra. A few weeks later I had the realization that I hadn't seen my usual check. They arrived twice a month like slightly off-kilter clockwork. I started paying attention to the days ticking by. I reached out via Facebook to the father (simply for the 'read' stamp that comes with those messages.) I grew increasingly anxious. Until the day I finally called my caseworker and she told me the words I feared, "we got notice that he's no longer employed". I felt sick. I hung up the phone, and cried. And cried. And cried some more. The whole evening. For me, it was a storm.<br />
<br />
I counted on that. Our lives counted on that. I was brokenhearted. Not only had I lost a large part of my income, but he had taken the most cowardly route in not bothering to tell me what was coming. Not allowing me to prepare myself. I was blindsided, hurt, and afraid. Selfishly, I thought of what I was losing. I realized I shouldn't travel (albeit not far) to my planned marathon. Or pay my coach. Or even race. Or have coffee. I let myself sink into despair that night and cry it out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlCv6SwjBSu-FsQeL-XvhLRqV4SKFSCrcg8ItVf3xglMQfz8NJ9yW7y_f7WqE7rt2BlQDVFuKPJc-BFrqq4Hw6ueeOZT3vXxsFvDV2KhP9dDEVPvRofXGNTY_l2mdmACDAhYHratG5tQr/s1600/148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlCv6SwjBSu-FsQeL-XvhLRqV4SKFSCrcg8ItVf3xglMQfz8NJ9yW7y_f7WqE7rt2BlQDVFuKPJc-BFrqq4Hw6ueeOZT3vXxsFvDV2KhP9dDEVPvRofXGNTY_l2mdmACDAhYHratG5tQr/s1600/148.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ocean vacation just before the crap hit the fan</td></tr>
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<br />
But then... an amazing thing, a beautiful thing began to happen. People knew of the struggle. I opened up about my fears, I talked, I vented. I didn't do so with the expectation that people FIX my situation or take care of me. I just needed to talk it out. But people began to do things for us. A family did a food drive and provided us with a bunch of groceries. My incredible running team all came together to entirely take care of my marathon trip/hotel/entry/coffee. When they presented me with this gift, I was speechless and choked up (for a week, at least). Friends contacted me to offer to help in any way that they could. It was the most incredible time in my life of being blessed by others. I've had people come alongside me in the past, but not like this. I can't even list all the ways people gave me a safety net, and peace, every day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPLQQUasZQfeCHwWtn3aamMrU_wHf3EBrkLGOT8ziYS4LJM0ftBfqGtJs3Gm9-Lp79A1oAos3tbK2YiTnkN1tL4OgzcMyyIJGzss8P6UYXvSIZbY26rtTdyDSJPQEmKiUA6oQJ30ersiQ/s1600/Rossenbacher+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPLQQUasZQfeCHwWtn3aamMrU_wHf3EBrkLGOT8ziYS4LJM0ftBfqGtJs3Gm9-Lp79A1oAos3tbK2YiTnkN1tL4OgzcMyyIJGzss8P6UYXvSIZbY26rtTdyDSJPQEmKiUA6oQJ30ersiQ/s1600/Rossenbacher+002.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo cred: http://ferrarophotography.org/</td></tr>
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<br />
Slowly, I found my feet. I still felt underlying frustration and anger at the situation, but I had perspective. I did some math. I figured out I could make it work. I knew it was temporary and we would make it until the support came back. I lived in a place of gratitude. I would have drowned without all the family, the friends, the people in my life throwing out life preservers one at a time. With their words, and their acts, and their kind compassion.<br />
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<br />
Now, it's been a year. I never thought it would go on this long. I try not to dwell on the questions. Is he working under the table? Is he doing this with intent? It makes me angry, and bitter. A year. How far we have come in a year. I have learned so much about gratitude. I have wanted and wished to be able to pay it forward. I try to, when I can, in little ways. Over the last year though, life has changed, and continues to change for the better every day. I don't think constantly about the situation that threatened to derail me anymore. I am (not so humbly) proud of where we are now. We've made it a year. Okay, we've made it 9 years, really. Every day that I am a single mom, I am grateful. For the people in our lives, and how deeply they care for us and love us. And for the people who are not in our lives, and how we are stronger for it. That sometimes absence of things or people, subtraction from our lives leaves space for the addition of so much more.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Triathletefamily</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's not even about the money, in the end. Although this year, I bought all the school supplies myself, without panicking. I didn't have to do it myself... I could have asked for help, but, I could also do it. It's about the journey to really understanding what it means to be grateful. That asking for any type of help, and accepting that help without apology is okay. It doesn't mean I am weak and incapable when I can't do it alone. That just having the courage to say "I need help" doesn't need to come with guilt or pity.<br />
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<br />
So we've made it a year. And what a difference that year has made in our lives. We are physically in a better place, that I couldn't have dreamed of living in. We are emotionally in a better place, with people in our lives who love us. My guard over the last year, the wall of protection, has been breached. A lot. Okay, it's basically laying in rubble. And I had done some damn good construction. People tore it down and held my hand, carried me when I needed it, and never left my side.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixv8SZy33HhDJeLAkqqZuY-lzQCTPg1iQ527nacghurgszVbxnHhFXPra9wJfpWa5ESJB6h6QJ-i9aG5FEVGUZsp6xgp3gyPesRQq6BSiDMfudWjei_35lRAuWoTgq8rcVRHDgNtkmUFBR/s1600/214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixv8SZy33HhDJeLAkqqZuY-lzQCTPg1iQ527nacghurgszVbxnHhFXPra9wJfpWa5ESJB6h6QJ-i9aG5FEVGUZsp6xgp3gyPesRQq6BSiDMfudWjei_35lRAuWoTgq8rcVRHDgNtkmUFBR/s1600/214.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My life motto </td></tr>
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<br />
So here is to another year of continuing to live in a place of gratitude, grace, joy and most importantly, in the present moment.Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-87894382366088424232014-08-20T20:38:00.000-07:002014-08-25T09:24:01.858-07:00Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'emBut how do you know?<br />
<br />
This post could be pretty real, raw, and whiny. All of that emotion brought to you by Barefoot Moscato.<br />
<br />
Let's start at the beginning... which I think takes us back to Eugene 2013. I went into that race well trained, ready to chase a big goal, and suffered a week of setbacks prior to race day. I accepted any potential outcome and released my goals. I raced well, all things considered, but still took it hard. I came home, recovered from the dehydration (wow, that takes time! And countless jars of pickles...) took some downtime, then found a coach, and began the preparation for my fall marathon in Tri-Cities. My coach was tough, and very talented. She pushed me hard and I saw huge leaps in some areas, but struggled in others. Particularly the long run. I was honest with her, but we didn't quite mesh, and she continued to push, with me crawling through runs, crying, and suffering repeated knocks to my confidence. I didn't see it then, but I was over-trained and burned out. I ran a terrible (for me) race, barely convincing myself to finish and spent weeks afterward with an IT band injury. I was done. My pursuit of the Boston qualifier and PR was over for now. I had no desire to run the marathon again for a long while, and I accepted that and set different goals once I returned from my injury.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to April. Watching the coverage of the Boston Marathon, and Meb's beautiful race and the goosebumps that I felt when he won lit that fire again. The marathon, like that ex who texts you just when you think you are over them, came calling again. When my friend emailed me that she had signed up for Portland, it didn't take much (okay ANY) work to persuade me to sign up too. I was ready. I was tired of my lower volume training and eager to work hard, build up, and go for it. I shifted my perspective from the outcome, the finish time and instead focused on goals within the cycle (certain mileage peak week, certain paces for my speedwork splits). Things were going just swimmingly. The build up was going flawlessly, I was feeling strong, and I was making improvements.<br />
<br />
Then there was the Missoula half. I went in with the expectation that I was strong enough to race a PR. There were other factors at play by the time I lined up on race morning that impacted the outcome, but it was the first domino. After 5 miles of the race, even though I was spot on for my A goal pace, I turned off my watch and just ran. I was completely apathetic. Sometimes I would push, other times I cruised. I was annoyed to be out there running at all. I wanted to be done. It was uncomfortable, but not hard. I was in it, but not. Around mile 8-9 I walked through an aid station eating my gel. Just... walking along, not caring. After that, in the morning heat, I walked through every aid station after that as well. Sipping my water and then carrying on. People would pass me and I would let them go. I would pass people, and not feel a spark. I just ran along, willing myself to the line. I finished, in 1:43.02-my second fastest. In hindsight, if I hadn't walked through all those aid stations, I would have PR-ed. Old Monica would feel frustrated, upset, and beat herself up over it. I simply accepted the time and that was it. I was numb to the race.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidD_5vywscj7nKPwlx-VfzMkWmPIySszcb4yIW6e7j46jAkVChBiXPSERfb-oM2k5IBocf7IT7_8rEaQd3KGs8XEG3hoLMF7ftruim3KpIKTPKCuc1fk9NxMCmNerB7JszK3ok5NLxPkfY/s1600/063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidD_5vywscj7nKPwlx-VfzMkWmPIySszcb4yIW6e7j46jAkVChBiXPSERfb-oM2k5IBocf7IT7_8rEaQd3KGs8XEG3hoLMF7ftruim3KpIKTPKCuc1fk9NxMCmNerB7JszK3ok5NLxPkfY/s1600/063.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post Missoula. Beers because. With RocketCityRun and Alyssa</td></tr>
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A few weeks later, I reached moving day. Packing up 5 years of my life with kidlet wore on me, and by Friday, I skipped my run. A 9 mile tempo workout. I skipped Saturday as well to move. That was a long day and took it's toll on me, and I simply didn't want to work running into my schedule. Then... I skipped Sunday. A long run. I did put in an hour bike ride, but that's not the same now is it? Although being on the bike filled me with joy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoRiL3xVroYTJz_-x0I-xfBL-1MPkMFjqPnTaN-vJn6FJjBZQoYzHsy3NuMQOtmG-7Ep45yGTCssP131QHBZo2bTvegOv3d0cr9CdLteOIQdp_Owk-pDBqrA9R1YDz1yP5-PsGIRvIFZmo/s1600/107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoRiL3xVroYTJz_-x0I-xfBL-1MPkMFjqPnTaN-vJn6FJjBZQoYzHsy3NuMQOtmG-7Ep45yGTCssP131QHBZo2bTvegOv3d0cr9CdLteOIQdp_Owk-pDBqrA9R1YDz1yP5-PsGIRvIFZmo/s1600/107.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bye North Spokane. There was no running, and tons of caffeine this day.</td></tr>
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<br />
Since moving day, I have struggled to capture my drive. I have completed workouts well, strong, hitting my paces, or exceeding them. I've also skipped some runs, because I am not a morning runner, and the heat in the afternoons was too much, and by evening, I just didn't want to do it. I set out a few times in tears just not wanting to go. I would get over it, and nail the workout, and feel better, but the next day... down again.<br />
<br />
I raced the CDA scenic sprint and was completely ecstatic the WHOLE day!! I smiled so hard the whole time. I was full of my old spirit and couldn't stop talking about HOW MUCH FUN I had had, and how great I felt about the day. I expected it to carry over into training. It sort of did, but then, my achilles tendon flared up. Mid run. With no sign it was even aggravated until I was 5 miles from home and was walk/run/cursing it the whole way back. I took the next day off, then ran again, feeling good again. I committed to the Huckleberry festival 5k in my boyfriend's hometown. I went into that race with the intent to win. I've never shown up to a race stating, out loud, that I wanted the win. I felt strong the whole race, hovering probably 20 ish seconds behind the 3 lead men (boyfriend included) for the first half. The second half is a gradual downhill, and the men opened up a bigger lead but I still finished 3rd overall, 40 seconds behind the boyfriend who defended his overall win title, and 20 seconds behind another fellow. I was giddy. Again, I felt like maybe this would be the boost to light the fire for Portland again.<br />
<br />
The next day I was scheduled for 18 miles. I didn't sleep well the night before and pushed it to an afternoon run. My sister was here as I was preparing to leave and I grabbed all my gear and headed downstairs. Wouldn't you know, I slipped off the top step from my upper level of the house and fell down to the landing. I landed on my ass, made some weird corrections, tweaked a shoulder, a wrist, and landed on my stomach, narrowly missing a table corner. No run. No walking. Just icing my butt and assessing the damage. By the next morning, I was struggling to take deep breaths, and my entire back, neck, sides, everything hurt. I went to urgent care and had to have x-rays. Fortunately nothing was broken or fractured. I was given a shot of painkiller, muscle relaxers and super duty ibuprofen and sent home to recover from whiplash and other pain. The first day was horrible. Yesterday was better, and I was moving normally again but still feeling sore and limited in my range of motion with headaches and nausea. Today I felt sore but functional. I could have run. I should have run. But, I didn't. I got dressed, and my garmin was dead. I cried, I took off my shoes, and I didn't run. I didn't want to anyway. And I felt guilty and distressed at that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHaetYhNQzKkdqADWzLRAo2b2SKs_jbb2sl8oUDV19-xoepWbF9BYRbPTaB6ytxGne4RNLu5P2Y0d9msOgPEg_fhabgEazztfHsyuFK3_rRz9AiyRKnjzC0BioJtT5qcjakcmP99QaihR4/s1600/160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHaetYhNQzKkdqADWzLRAo2b2SKs_jbb2sl8oUDV19-xoepWbF9BYRbPTaB6ytxGne4RNLu5P2Y0d9msOgPEg_fhabgEazztfHsyuFK3_rRz9AiyRKnjzC0BioJtT5qcjakcmP99QaihR4/s1600/160.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I love racing! This is so fun!! MORE!" why can't I capture this?!</td></tr>
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<br />
And that's what scares me the most. I am not used to this kind of apathy toward training. I usually want to run. Nope, not right now. I want to ride my bike, a lot. I put in 30 miles Saturday after the 5k because I just didn't want to get off my bike. I only stopped because I was hungry! I WANT to run, in a way. But I don't, because I am scared of what this last month means for Portland. My mileage has not just dipped, it has gone down like the Titanic. My goals feel impossible. My coach asked me if my apathy stemmed from the fact that maybe I have already written off Portland and allowed IMCDA to take over my brain. At first, it did. When I signed up, it was ALL I could think about. I still think about it a lot, and cannot wait to take on the training... but no. That's not it. I didn't write Portland off when that came along. I was still in it. So why am I not now? And the harder questions... do I keep going? I have missed two critical long runs, and several other important training runs. I have had some setbacks, which happen, and it's possible to move past these... but do I want to? Do I race Portland with no expectations? Do I accept that it could be a personal worst (okay, unlikely) or nowhere near the day I want? Do I just run? Do I keep trying to find my spark?<br />
<br />
<b>What do you do when training takes on a bleak feel and you can't find that joy?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>How do you move past the setbacks and trust your training?</b><br />
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<b>How do you readjust your goals for a race? </b>Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-73760058018124868182014-08-11T20:27:00.000-07:002014-08-12T07:30:51.241-07:00The long road to ironmanSo yeah, I kind of wrote a handful of posts, threw out a huge "signed up for ironman!!" announcement and then went off the grid. Life got crazy. From IM weekend, til now, it felt like there was barely a weekend free.<br />
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Quick life recap: 4th of July fun, Missoula half marathon/getaway with mom-friend Alyssa, Seattle weekend with my ironman and kidlet (amazing and much needed), then we moved our whole life a whopping 30-40 minutes from where we lived, but to a whole new community (freaking awesome new location!!), one weekend of downtime, and then my first sprint tri in 2 years! Does that sum it all up? I should recap some of the fun that happened in those weekends, but I probably won't. So let's just start with the tri!<br />
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After I registered for IMCDA, I figured it might be smart to get in a little refresher before the summer ends, and more importantly, get my face into the open water at least once before next May! My favorite sprint fell on the weekend I was moving. The first time I did it was the day after I moved into my old house... so it wasn't unrealistic really, but not ideal. The ironman raced it, so I was still up at the crack of dawn after moving day to go cheer! God bless quad shot espressos. Just sayin. But when my friend Alyssa decided impulsively to sign up for the CDA scenic sprint, it didn't take much to talk me into it. The <a href="http://cdatriathlon.com/">CDA Scenic Challenge</a> has previously been only an olympic distance and boasts a challenging-hence the name-bike course. I lack a lot of confidence, not to mention fitness, on the bike, so the olympic wasn't up my alley. However, a sprint? I could get on board for that. It still contained some decent hills. In fact, it was essentially the run course from the CDA 1/2 marathon I ran in May. I have an irrational fear that even in my granny gear, I will lose all momentum on a climb, roll backward, crash and die. But, I bit the bullet and signed up. The ironman decided to race the olympic, and he signed kidlet up for the kid's tri (his first)!!<br />
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My training prior to the race included a good amount of running, since I'm training for the Portland Marathon. I put in approximately 3 swims, but none since early July. I also got in 3 rides in 2 weeks after a lovely teammate gave me her old aero bars for my bike. So, with a whopping 3000 yds total swimming, and 48 miles on the bike (all flat) I was extremely anxious about how it would go. I set zero expectations. Well, I had a loose goal of 1:40 for my finish time, and the plan to make it as far through my race as possible before my boyfriend could catch me on course.<br />
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Race morning we were all up around 4:30. I didn't sleep much the night before... I would guess MAYBE 2 hours total due to a plethora of reasons. I was puffy eyed and congested when I woke up (well that sounds like I cried all night. I didn't. I was just exhausted). But, I popped in my headphones and turned on music trying to psych up for the race. Transition opened at 5:30, with the olympic race starting at 7:10 and my wave of the sprint was not until 8:05. For breakfast, I had a nutritional shake (generic brand ensure) and eventually a banana. We got all the adult bikes (our friend JJ was also racing the sprint) and kidlet's into the truck and headed out around 5:30. I love triathlon. There's so much morning prep involved, but it's just more fun to prepare for in the morning than a straight road race.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alyssa and I battling our nerves! </td></tr>
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We met Alyssa and her mom at the parking lot where she was waiting with coffee I asked her to pick up. Bless this woman. We got our gear, pumped tires and headed in to be marked and set up our transitions. I set up next to Alyssa, and we chatted out our nerves and I made several trips to the porta-potties due to a really sketch stomach. We eventually cleared out of transition, and headed toward the water. The lake was choppy, and my nerves were increasing. This race was 1/100,000th of the IMCDA distance I will face next year, and staring out over the same venue was wake up call. The ironman warmed up and then after a quick good luck kiss he hit the water for his race and I wriggled into my borrowed wetsuit for the first time in years. Note to self: new wetsuit. I obsessively body glided my neck and we watched the lead olympic racers come out of the water. Once the ironman was out, we headed down to the beach to warm up. Alyssa wasn't getting in beforehand, so JJ and I got into the water. It was warm as bathwater. I waded out and started to swim and was immediately surprised by the comfort level. I didn't have any panic about being in open water and despite the waves smacking me in the face each breath, I felt immediately better about the odds of completing the swim. It sounds silly but it was truly a concern for me.<br />
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Swim:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gotta love mom photography. Ready to swim!</td></tr>
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The race swim is 500 yds, clockwise in a triangle. When our wave was up, nobody was really moving forward so I found myself in the front row of the swimmers as we waited. I am not a fast swimmer, but I stayed put and told myself to just go for it! As the start sounded, I ran in like I knew exactly what I was up to and as soon as the others began to swim, I followed suit. I took off fast-for me, and my breathing was immediately ragged. I breathed to the right every stroke (in the pool, I can breathe bilaterally, but to stay calm in open water, I tend to breathe every time to the right, until I calm down) and didn't feel any sense of panic! This was new!! People passed me, but I wasn't feeling jostled, or like I was being dropped. I sighted a few times and green caps were plentiful ahead of me, but I was holding my own and even attempted to 'stay on feet' although I really have no idea how. Once I realized we were turning to the shore, I eagerly picked up my pace. I'm sure my swim was akin to a drunken crab, and will require a lot of work, but I made it out of the water feeling really pleased and calm. I got goggles off, unzipped the wetsuit, pulled it down to my waist on my way through the run to transition and cap off. Every step was smooth which shocked me. I expected to wrestle the suit, slip and fall in the grass, any number of unfortunate outcomes. But I made it to my bike feeling like I had my wits about me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYG7oAI0zRyGaLevPV9i8nwAuUVmKM_EzSuM5HbTCC181QbM6gbyjFX0QO5eTkmPd4LfWp97PTRItRMISPlbO_EsuhajLi2W6iwPIUDJyx-a84SprwD_p1PE6TeBDh7fl87OGKo2e-bEH/s1600/130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYG7oAI0zRyGaLevPV9i8nwAuUVmKM_EzSuM5HbTCC181QbM6gbyjFX0QO5eTkmPd4LfWp97PTRItRMISPlbO_EsuhajLi2W6iwPIUDJyx-a84SprwD_p1PE6TeBDh7fl87OGKo2e-bEH/s1600/130.JPG" height="320" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks to Alyssa's mom for this pic. Swim exit is not flattering is it?</td></tr>
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Time: 10:35<br />
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T1: 1:39<br />
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I got the rest of the suit off my feet without much difficulty, and without having to sit! I got my shoes on and strapped, helmet on and clipped, shoved a packet of Honey Stinger chews (cherry blossom) into my top and grabbed Baby off the rack! I trotted cautiously to the mount line and came to a complete stop to shakily mount and take off!<br />
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Bike:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading out with Baby - photo and apparently editing done by kidlet?!</td></tr>
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The course was 13 miles (or 14.53 per Garmin but I'm not complaining!) out and back. The course rides through downtown CDA and then out along the lake. It's gorgeous. I told myself to sit up for at least a mile until my breathing regulated. I also waited about that long before drinking a little. I had one bottle of <a href="http://osmonutrition.com/store/osmo-active-hydration-women.html">Osmo</a> on my bike (this stuff is amazing, and I'm loving it so far in my testing for nutrition). In my past (also wildly undertrained) races, I am passed by everyone on the bike. Everyone. Oh, kids with training wheels? They fly by me. So I was surprised to find myself passing cyclists as we wove out of town. Once we were out, on the first gradual uphill I stayed in aero and continued to reel in athletes, just waiting for the athletes behind me to fly by. After we pass the back side of the resort, it is a subtle downhill and then a flat stretch to Bennett Bay Hill. I just peddled what felt like a good cadence, drank every 2 miles or so, ate a few chews here and there and never stopped smiling! I was having a BLAST! As we came around the bend to the hill I'd been fearing I lowered my gears and sat up and told myself to just stay steady. I passed a few cyclists up the hill and felt pretty good. I was moving well for me. I never once looked at the speed on my watch so I just rode on effort. Once we reached the top, I worked up the nerve to get into aero and 'fly' down the backside!! Again, more smiling. We cruised down, turned around in the parking lot at Higgins point and began the ride back. It is a longer more gradual return up the hill, and a steeper descent. I continued feeling strong, chasing athletes, and smiling my ass off. We flew down Bennett Bay which is a little rough and I hit a few bumps that scared me but I just held on and rode it out. We followed the road back into town, and while I was excited to run, I didn't really want the ride to end. We merged with the olympic distance athletes coming off their extended loop and I did some quick math at that point figuring out where my ironman might be on the course. Per my math, he was about to the run, which I think was correct, or at least close. We cruised back into town and I was still riding strong and loving life. As I passed a volunteer through town I got a discrete "chick them!" as I went by. I did. If it sounds braggy that's not the point. I am not sure in the history of cycling I have ever passed other riders, and not had every racer fly by me as if I am walking my bike. So to ride strong, and handle the hills I had feared much better than expected filled me with excitement and joy! I chatted with or cheered for other athletes the whole ride, and thanked as many volunteers as I could on course. I came around the last corner to transition, hollered at my mom and dismounted my bike.<br />
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Time: 46:43/19mph per Garmin<br />
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T2: 1:05<br />
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I quickly racked Baby, got out of my shoes and into my beyond old Brooks ST-5 racers. My beloved orange and blue pair were retired after last fall's marathon, but as they are my only shoes with speed laces, I pulled them out for a 5k. I also tossed on my bright yellow Montana moose trucker hat that I picked up coming home from Missoula so that I would stand out. I clipped on my number belt, tucked in my tank and headed off. I came out of transition confused, and headed out the 'swim in' path. I was quickly corrected, but those couple seconds would haunt me later.<br />
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Run:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best. Kit. Ever. Looooove Coeur. And a great final race to retire my Brooks for real.</td></tr>
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The run was a 5k out and back through City Park, along the "dike road" toward Riverstone and back. The 10k also went that way, so it was impossible to know who I was chasing and who I wasn't. My breathing was obnoxiously labored while I adjusted to the run. Again I didn't check my watch and just tried to move. I checked when each split beeped off but that was it. First mile was 7:14 and just after that I passed a woman with 30 on her calf and tried to stay ahead of her. We ran past the sewage plant and I willed myself not to gag. At the turnaround, I told the volunteer "God bless you!" in relief and headed back. I was behind two 16 year old girls. One immediately took off, and the other stayed just ahead of me for the rest of the next mile. Mile 2 clocked in at 7:18 and by now, my quads were screaming! The hilly (to me) ride had gotten to me, and that spot right above my knees in my quad muscles?! Holy cow it was knotting and I was worried I might eat it. Just before the park I passed the 16 year old, but once we reached the park, and less than a quarter mile to go, she passed me back and began her kick. I said good job as she passed, but I was worried about my legs. Mile 3 was 7:27, and I finally found the next gear and trusted my legs wouldn't seize up and leave me face-planting so I kicked too. I didn't catch the youngun ahead of me, but I ran in strong to the finish! Final .16 was 6:24 pace, thanks for playing nice, legs!<br />
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Run: 23:02<br />
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In the end, I finished in 1:23.03 which blew all of my expectations out of the water. If I hadn't taken that minor detour out the wrong path, I might have pulled off a sub-23 run, which was the only thing in the run I could even complain about. Or maybe if I had just trusted my legs a little more in the last mile. It's hard to compare any sprint races due to varying distances in each discipline, but this was a 5k PR for my triathlon racing by over a minute.<br />
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The icing on the cake was finding out I was 4th woman overall, and had won my age group! What?? I was beyond giddy (...but what if I hadn't let that 16 year old outkick me. Nope, no what ifs. I ran my day).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Huckleberry ale and a first place medal. Things I don't normally have! </td></tr>
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Anyone who knows me knows I finish most run races complaining or disappointed in something. I was ALL smiles after this race, and couldn't stop saying how awesome it was and how much fun I had. That's my standard reaction after every triathlon I've ever participated in, which is a big indicator to me that I am heading in the right direction with switching my focus to triathlon a little more. I love it so much! I was so stoked that the entire day felt so smooth. I was worried about so many little things that could go wrong, and considering how unprepared I was for this, I felt like it was the best possible day I could have had. I had run a solid amount of faster than usual miles in the week before and yet my legs came to play. The bike especially surprised the hell out of me. I felt like I was in my element, which is something I never feel in a triathlon bike leg.<br />
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The rest: I raced in the <a href="http://www.coeursports.com/">Coeur chevron kit</a> which was love at first wear (NO ANGRY KITTY! Those shorts are the best thing that I've ever worn on the bike and run ever). The top rode up on me, due to my 'narrow' waist and hips that don't lie. But after I reached out with sizing questions, Coeur and Kebby responded with so much enthusiasm and friendliness to help me get the right fit to avoid the ride up! The moose hat was the size of a bucket, sure, but I loved it.<br />
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Then I got to see ironman finish his race, and we ate some free BBQ, had our post race free brews, and then watched kidlet race. This was the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I think he smiled as hard as I did all day. He was hooked immediately, and watching my ironman, and our friend JJ and my mom cheer Ben on was one of those things that just melts your insides into sappy pieces of sunshine. It was an amazing day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose on the loose and her triathlete dudes. </td></tr>
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Cannot wait to begin my Ironman journey now that I have reminded myself just how much I love triathlon!!<br />
<br />Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-14932663438372527362014-07-03T10:33:00.001-07:002014-07-03T10:33:19.848-07:00Ironfan Over the last 6 months, I had a front row seat to watching someone train for ironman. I've known people who were training before. I've watched the race for the last several years in Coeur d'Alene supporting friends and acquaintances. I am always filled with excitement driving into CDA seeing the cyclists riding up over the overpass to head out on Hwy 95 on their quest. I get chills, butterflies, and teary eyes watching total strangers make their way down Sherman Ave to the finish line. I was seduced by ironman before I even thought of chasing a BQ.<br />
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But for the last 6 months, the view was much closer. Kind of like seeing... for lack of a better analogy... how the sausage gets made. I saw the ugly parts, the downsides, the struggles. I did the best I could to support and encourage. For the first time in my life I was on the other side. I wasn't the athlete striving for a huge goal, but the woman behind the scenes watching someone she loves chase down a finish line of epic proportions. There were days I thought "I couldn't do this, what he's doing. Not yet."<br />
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I made the trek to CDA more often than he could make the trek here. I did whatever I could to make things easier and not to demand too much of my super tired athlete. There were days when we didn't see eye to eye, and frustrations bubbled up. There were tears on my side, behind the scenes, as I faced growing pains. I learned a lot. Not just about someone training for a race, but about our relationship. By the time we rolled through race nerves weekend, and into the final days and then to the start line, I was eager to see the culmination of the journey. When he took to the water, his nerves probably dissolved. Mine skyrocketed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race morning</td></tr>
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Ironman Sunday was a bizarrely emotional day for me. I was so excited, so anxious, and so weirdly teary eyed over it. I stalked his splits. I didn't leave downtown. I didn't go nap for fear of missing something. I might be a bit of a crazy ironfan. But I couldn't believe it was happening finally. Every time I saw him on course, I was more excited. I was so proud to be the ironfan, the sherpa, the girlfriend of the athlete on that day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSJ4hprHj0XJub1WemMonAs9Sf-YffxK0eFQ4UN0sNkU0WCBMcEb9Mc4z-wh8hQXunXjcB1FHPO9tShRYw2ChHpvDIdmqrDkjkdXoCFzFoWJDV2eXivv-4hTY8LXZfmA2DJ3UWJ26y5BN/s1600/046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSJ4hprHj0XJub1WemMonAs9Sf-YffxK0eFQ4UN0sNkU0WCBMcEb9Mc4z-wh8hQXunXjcB1FHPO9tShRYw2ChHpvDIdmqrDkjkdXoCFzFoWJDV2eXivv-4hTY8LXZfmA2DJ3UWJ26y5BN/s1600/046.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So. Much. Fun. </td></tr>
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And the desire... for my own day, was growing. I was so inspired by the journey, by his drive and as always, by the race itself, by every friend and stranger on the course. By the time I finally saw him running down Sherman toward the finish, toward Mike Reilly and the words "You are an ironman" I was so full of happiness, pride, and ridiculous excitement. I can't really contain the cheesiness even now. We screamed at him and then sprinted down past the finish, trying to listen to for his name as we raced to the finish corral. After he got his finisher picture, I got the hug I'd been waiting for since the start of all of it. I was so happy to hug him, and say "You freaking did it!". It meant so much afterward to hear words of thanks from him for what I could contribute to the journey. It was an amazing day, and it wasn't even my day!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2yUF0L4B6puhChakKRFS4UfdPyQhA60WOEGV_oiS5qUpJ5UcJcSalKKNTCtAJfhK9CQzkwsJ_JuHKx0vzFN8zG6wVaojrgz8Z_bjAv_eMWkR14D-AxpjWChO16WknXPmDP15_HqGO6WKO/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2yUF0L4B6puhChakKRFS4UfdPyQhA60WOEGV_oiS5qUpJ5UcJcSalKKNTCtAJfhK9CQzkwsJ_JuHKx0vzFN8zG6wVaojrgz8Z_bjAv_eMWkR14D-AxpjWChO16WknXPmDP15_HqGO6WKO/s1600/047.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Are we smiling? Does he care that I'm plastering this all over my blog? Nah, nobody reads it anyway!"</td></tr>
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<br />
...so I took the leap, I signed up for IMCDA 2015.<br />
<br />
Here we go!Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204758326330757841.post-12932256542562239652014-06-16T21:22:00.001-07:002014-06-16T21:22:57.097-07:00The great slowdown aka swallowing my run-prideSo as I've mentioned in nearly every post since I started this blog (err... so 5 posts?) I am challenging myself to respect the easy days/easy paces. I would like to think I always have, and that I'm just faster than I think... but if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I was being an idiot.<br />
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In the last 6-7 years since I started seriously running again, and more specifically the last 3-4 years where I became more of what I would call a 'competitive age grouper' I have made a lot of progress. When you start from ground zero you have a lot of room to improve at first. And I did. Then I joined my running team, and made another big leap. I PR-ed every distance I raced (okay, several were new distances anyway...) and was running faster than I had in years. Until I plateaued. And I've been stuck there. I have recently eeked out a few PRs but not by much... and in my cocky opinion, not by enough to truly reflect the training. Joining my team, and the last few training cycles really challenged me in what I believed I could do with speed work and tempo, and I made jumps in those areas. But the easy run was still elusive and not surprisingly, the race results weren't coming.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrV99qpgKQapZxz6SMqG8NXpy8O0AkrJs-h1fTqNu1v4XbDWsmlabQ7zxAtDOrHs9aw4HPpEkjwIb_HnYkM7jOiWlMQiOPpWurHBP0mtCdnZ33WxvSjoWOfr4FPl7mkOrgsr6uDEiCnuXP/s1600/038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrV99qpgKQapZxz6SMqG8NXpy8O0AkrJs-h1fTqNu1v4XbDWsmlabQ7zxAtDOrHs9aw4HPpEkjwIb_HnYkM7jOiWlMQiOPpWurHBP0mtCdnZ33WxvSjoWOfr4FPl7mkOrgsr6uDEiCnuXP/s1600/038.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Random pic from my 30th bday 30k last year. Def ran EASY this day (/walked and died). Also, nice cross body arm swing... that's good form.</td></tr>
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Easy days always followed the same process. I would dread the run a little bit. I would creep on my watch CONSTANTLY and get irritated with paces I saw. I would push harder. I did NOT listen to my body EVER. I did not allow myself to run on feel. I beat myself up over any pace that was above 8:30 for instance (yes, that was the number in my head that I HAD to be faster than). At every stop light on some runs, I would pray for a red so I could stop. I would take 'stretch breaks', to catch my breath from my 'easy run'. Are you seeing all the red flags? Because I sure didn't. Don't get me wrong, some days these faster paced easy runs felt amazing, but overall.. I was digging myself into a hole my body just couldn't recover from. I just kept digging. I could not swallow my pride and allow myself to try something new. I read tons of articles about easy days (there are a million out there, this is obviously scientifically legit) but I just kept pushing myself.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIHSDhnCZTX3Dw6it8beXOnwV7KYzI_9ZwreYJlzT371N8ECcpKsSR4FMHkqXDDogbv9bgaqh9EN4XyucYIFW2zXsuGYTPKZeZ-idA91Zzwx4OSm7NUkFVR4lj-NNd5qRlLJwEE7xGi_F/s1600/214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIHSDhnCZTX3Dw6it8beXOnwV7KYzI_9ZwreYJlzT371N8ECcpKsSR4FMHkqXDDogbv9bgaqh9EN4XyucYIFW2zXsuGYTPKZeZ-idA91Zzwx4OSm7NUkFVR4lj-NNd5qRlLJwEE7xGi_F/s1600/214.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who would have thought I feared a pace over 9 minutes more than any other workout? </td></tr>
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Ironically, the quote "if you do what you've always done, you will get what you've always gotten" rings true for me, possibly in the opposite way that most would see it. At first I would read it as feeling I should push harder, dig deeper, run harder. But for me, that's what I've always done. Out of 17 half marathons, about 9-10 of them are in the same 1:43-46 range. To me that shows a pretty big plateau and was an indicator that doing what I've always done (pushing my easy pace) was getting me nowhere new.<br />
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It took <a href="http://runfargirl.com/">Sarah's</a> blog, and more specifically, her DailyMile account to push me into really challenging myself with this. She runs amazing races, and wicked fast speed work, but she is mindful of her easy day like few others. I've used the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hansons-Marathon-Method-Renegade-Fastest/dp/1934030856/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1402975734&sr=1-1&keywords=hanson+marathon+method">Hanson Marathon Method</a> twice, and their book details the importance and value of the easy day. But I still couldn't quite commit until Sarah's blog came onto my radar. I've been focusing on this for I think about a month. I really like lists (hint: when you slow down more, you can make lists on the run) so here's the positives and negatives I've felt so far in this self-challenge.<br />
<br />
<b>The Good stuff!</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I look forward to my run! Knowing it's not going to hurt, cause discomfort, or feel like a suckfest makes me much happier to get out the door. It almost feels like cheating, how comfortable and easy these runs feel. Not all of them, there are days where even super slow my body lets me know how tired it is. But that brings me to my next point...</li>
<li>I'm listening to my body! I don't stalk my watch. I wear it, and use it as a tool to control the pace and effort, not as something that I have to measure up to. I don't let the numbers discourage me, because I am tuning into my body. How my legs feel, head feels, breathing feels. I honestly miss half the splits, and don't usually check the feedback until the end.</li>
<li>I feel like I am doing the right thing. More than ever with my medium hard paced 'easy days' I feel like this is the correct workout. I love finishing feeling effortless and strong the whole way through, and mentally it clicked for me that this is the correct practice. I don't know why it suddenly felt like it 'fit' for me but it did click.</li>
<li>I treat it as a workout, the same as speedwork/tempo. Instead of feeling like I need to prove myself to have a faster easy pace on these days, I set slow goals. I celebrate and pat myself on the back and brag about these days as much, if not more than, my hard workouts. I am so proud of myself for sticking to this, and for taking the easy day as serious as every other part for once. </li>
<li>I feel strong. I don't often visualize but I do now on these days. Slowing down and really sinking into the run allows me to think about form, breathing, effort, stride. I picture my body burning fat, running fluidly, and sure... I daydream about the breakthroughs and race goals I have in the future. </li>
<li>Weather doesn't phase me. Windy day? No big deal. Rain? Meh. Sunny hot? I got this. Because I am not fighting the elements or my body or my watch I can just chill and enjoy the day.</li>
<li>I can listen to slower music! I don't need pumped up jams to get through my run. I can listen to the cheesy love songs, or my Journey station on Pandora and not need something upbeat to survive. </li>
<li>It's making me mentally tough. I firmly believe now that it takes a lot stronger mind to slow it down and do this right than it takes for me to do a hard workout. Those aren't easy either but this takes a lot of focus. I spend a lot of time talking to myself about control, relaxing, and reminding myself "just because you aren't running fast, doesn't mean you can't. You are making a choice. You are in control of the run. It isn't running you." And I feel like the mental stamina I am building is valuable. </li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>The struggles I still face</b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Where I might be proud of my focus on slowing it down, I'm definitely swallowing my pride. I sometimes hate accepting paces that I used to avoid/fear. It might be empowering, but it is also really scary for me. It's unnerving how easily my body has accepted slower paces and I fight the constant fear of "oh crap... I'm just going to be slow... I'm slow! Oh no!!" </li>
<li>I still compare. To my past self training logs. To other runners on social media. To my boyfriend even! (uh... no contest). I try to seek out athletes on social media who truly abide by this (which has led to a lot of information on MAF-something I'm very curious about) but obviously comparison creeps in and induces a touch of panic every time. </li>
<li>I run alone a lot. This might actually be a positive too, because I enjoy it... but it definitely means a lot of solo workouts so as to avoid my pace being pushed by others. </li>
<li>... okay, those few things are really all I struggle with during my easy days. </li>
</ul>
<div>
So obviously, the pros are outweighing the cons. Granted I don't have any race day evidence that this is working, but I feel like it will come. I feel stronger on my hard days. I've always been able to 'survive' those workouts, but now I feel like I am in control of it. Both hard and easy days I feel like I am in control, consistent, and smart. My coach and I have been increasing my weekly mileage a bit at a time, and the last few weeks have been my highest volume all year, and I feel fantastic. It makes me feel more well rounded as a runner, if that makes sense. It sure isn't an easy journey, but I'm proud of my commitment to it and hoping I will start reaping the benefits soon! </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>How do you feel about your easy paces? Would you say you run 'medium hard' all the time? </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>What is the easiest/hardest part of keeping your easy days easy enough? </b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>And the big one: Who thinks the REAL easy day has made a positive impact in training? </b></div>
Monicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08631687278308049290noreply@blogger.com1