It's a Dry Heat

I was initially signed up to do the TriShark triathlon this weekend. However, a couple of months ago, an opportunity for me to get down to ride the Ironman Arizona course came up, so I sold my triathlon entry in lieu of going down to see what it's like to ride on the Beeline Highway. I've since found out that they CANCELLED the swim at the TriShark and made it a duathlon, so I definitely made the right choice in skipping that race this year!

I headed out on Saturday morning and arrived in Phoenix around 11am their time. The temperature had already climbed up to about 98 degrees. After a big fiasco in helping my partner in crime, SH, rent a bike, we hooked up with my brother who just moved to AZ last month for a short, easy early evening ride. Now it was about 102 degrees. We loaded up with all sorts of fluids and the ride was short but sweet. We were saving our efforts for the next day...the Ironman course.

The morning came all too quickly and we met up at the start of where the bike portion of the Ironman was to take place. Initially, I wanted to put in the full 112 miles, but the heat was a consideration as was the fact that this race is still pretty far away. So we headed out around 7:30am to log in some good, solid, steady-paced miles. The thermometer was reading about 82 degrees at the start of the ride. I could give you all the details, but let me just sum it up that the heat rose to about 102 again this day. We rode until about 3pm with the sun baking on our backs as we pedaled along. There is absolutely NO SHADE on all of this bike course. And I have to say, I loved every minute of it. 102 in AZ does NOT feel like 102 in Chicago. Heck, even 85 feels hotter here in Chicago. So I guess it's true, the whole "dry heat" thing takes much less of a toll on athletes. I fully expected to be wiped out after the ride, but that really didn't happen. I had much more to give and it felt great.

I love the Beeline Highway!

Ironman Florida Race Report

I could go in to all the details and events leading up to the race, but I'm quite sure that would make this post entirely too long. Suffice it to say that everything leading up to the race went well. The training sessions went smoothly, registration was easy, I ate, drank and slept well, and I was relatively calm leading up to the big day.


I set the alarm for 4am, though I was up before then. I got out of bed and quietly went to the kitchen in the condo to start eating. As usual, I'm never hungry when I immediately wake up, so forcing down the necessary calories wasn't easy. Ironman NA is different from most races in that you MUST check in your bike, T1 and T2 things the day before. It does make it easier to pack up on race morning because most of your stuff is already where it needs to be. All I had to bring was my 2 Special Needs bags (these are bags that you can put whatever you want or think you might need half way through the bike and run sections of the course). I put some things in each, not really expecting to use anything except the long-sleeved shirt for the run. Once the sun goes down, it can get pretty chilly.


The walk down to the transition area was quick. We were able to drop off the Special Needs bags on the way down to transition. Then it was just a matter of putting all our nutrition on the bikes, adding last-minute items to the transition bags, pumping up the tires on the bikes, get body marked, then we were off to the beach! Even though we left the condo around 5:10am, time passed very quickly and before I knew it, we would be starting in just 15 minutes.


I stood with BC while we listened to the National Anthem and we moved closer to the water. I thanked him for his support, wished him good luck and I had to walk away. I'm not sure why, but my eyes welled up with tears then and I wondered why I was about to do this again. My plan was to start very, very wide. I just did not want to be in the mix of the washing machine of arms, elbows, legs and bodies of all those other swimmers. I walked down the beach, away from the buoys and the groups of swimmers seemed endless. But I had been thinking about this plan ever since I did my last Ironman swim 16 months ago, I would not put myself in the center of this mess. I got to a place where there were about 8-10 swimmers on my right. We needed to swim out (and considerably left) to get to the buoys. I didn't care that I would be swimming a bit longer, the energy and frustration I save would be well worth it in my eyes. I also decided the people I lined up with were much less aggressive and serious about this race. We were cracking jokes up until 30 seconds before the start.


The cannon went off and I did a couple of dolphin dives to get started. Those are so exhausting! I swam about 100 yards and started smiling. I was not hit at all. I made the right decision. This was awesome! I started veering left to try and catch a little draft. But I didn't want to get too close in there. I found what I thought to be a woman who was about my speed. I backed off and swam a little bit out, toward the right, to get on her feet. Aaaaahhhhh. Nice. She swam crooked every now and then, but when I tried to break away from her, I noticed I wasn't gaining ground. She sighted enough that she never went off course very far. We only had 2 turns before we had to get out to start the second loop, and I followed her through both turns very easily. It was a bit strange....I know I'm toward the front of the pack, but where IS everyone?? Oh well, who cares, I'm swimming effortlessly and breathing as normal as I would just sitting in front of the television.


I got out of the water and looked at the clock...then realized I needed to take off 10 minutes (because the clock showed the professionals' time and they started 10 minutes before us). I was happy to see 29 minutes and some change. This was great! (In the pic above, I'm the one running past the lady with the blonde hair holding a cup of water). I hopped back in, but unfortunately lost the woman I was drafting off of. I saw tons of people swimming INSIDE the buoys and wondered what they were doing. If you swim a course counter clockwise, the buoys should be on your left side. I kept on my way and found another set of feet to draft off of. I was bummed when I thought about the fact that the swim was nearing the end...I was having fun! We made the first of the 2 turns on the second loop and there was only one other swimmer actually going around the right side of the furthest buoy. Unbelievable. I think a few fast swimmers cut the course and majority of the pack followed suit. It made my swim really easy, I felt like there were only about 6 of us out there.


I got out of the water and saw 1:00 on the clock. Sweet...right as expected..maybe even a couple minutes faster! The wetsuit strippers I went to struggled a bit to get my wetsuit off. I grabbed the wetsuit and started running toward the showers they had set up for us to rinse the salt water off a little. To my surprise, I ran into BC headed toward the showers!! It was a nice surprise and I was glad to see he had a very strong swim also. Unfortunately, no one was there to hand me my transition bag, so I went to get it myself. Once inside the transition tent, I was a little out of breath, but calm as I quickly changed into biking clothes. I felt quick as I ran out of the tent only to find that no one was there to hand me my bike. I ran over to my rack to get my own bike and headed out toward the bike course. One of the greatest things about being a strong female swimmer is that I was in the transition tent with just a couple of women and there weren't even many men heading out on the course yet. I got to the Mount Line, got on the bike and pedaled away.


Immediately, I thought something wasn't right. My back wheel, with the disc, didn't sound right. It didn't feel right. Is this all in my head? At that moment, I was riding over some brick paver, so I figured it would sound normal as soon as I got on some smooth pavement. Unfortunately, no...I got on the blacktop and something still wasn't right. I looked down at my back tire and it was flat. NO!!!!! I pulled over and stopped my watch. I didn't want to know how much time this was going to cost me because I knew it would make me push harder to make up the time...NOT a smart thing to do. I ran back a few steps, pulling the bike, to lean it up against a trailer that was lined up on the side of the road. There was a nice older woman there who said, "I know I'm not supposed to help you, but is there anything I can do?" Oddly enough, I smiled and said, if you could just hold my bike for a second, that would be great! I think she was excited about getting the chance to help an athlete in distress. I asked some young boy to go to transition and ask them to send support. For a brief moment, I considered calling it a day. This is not supposed to happen!


I took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. I moved the chain to the smallest gears and took the wheel off. I then took the spare off the back of my seat where it was taped on. I unwrapped the razor blade BC had luckily given to me just yesterday. I then cringed as I sliced the tire off the wheel. This was a tire that only had a couple hundred miles on it at most, but I couldn't risk taking the time to pump it up only to realize that there was a hole in it. I ripped the tire off, unwrapped the spare and I think I surprised myself when I was able to get the tire on pretty quickly. One of the spectators asked, "Have you done this before?" I said, "Ironman, yes...change a tubular flat...no!" I tried using my CO2, but for some reason, I couldn't get it to engage. The bikers were flying by me out of transition and it was stressful. I yanked off the hand pump I always keep on the bike and tried pumping it up that way. It was taking air, but I knew I couldn't get enough pressure in there with this little pump. I kept looking for the support crew, but no one was coming. Just then, the boy I sent to get help came back to me and said if I wanted help, I had to go back to transition. WHAT??!?!? Crap. Well, I thought...I could just ride on, tire not completely full, or I could take the extra couple of minutes to go back into transition to make sure the tire was on right and get the right amount of air in it. Had this been a shorter race, I might've made a different decision, but I chose to run back into transition.


It was a nightmare. All these bikers were coming out and I was running all the way back in. I was almost run over several times by people who mounted their bikes and were still looking down at their feet as they rode off...they wouldn't even look up until I yelled to them. It was not only embarrassing, it was frustrating. Any lead I had built up on that fabulous swim was now gone....and then some. As I was about to run back into transition I was stopped by a volunteer. She told me I couldn't go back in. I told her I needed a pump and I was directed to come back into transition! COME ON, WOMAN, I'M TRYING TO RACE HERE!!! She asked if I had a timing chip on. Of course!!!! Then she said, well, then you can't go back over the timing mat. Are you kidding me? She then became distracted, so I headed into transition and tried to cross over a part past where the mat had ended. At this point, I don't care if my transition time is all messed up, the extra time is either going to be tacked on to my transition or my bike split. I dodged tons of athletes all in a hurry to get out on the bike course. I saw some men standing under a tent and I asked them for a pump. They pointed across one of the aisles and I saw about 6 bike technicians standing there with a bunch of pumps. I called to them, but then one of the men I was standing by chastized me and said I need to go over there if I want to use a pump. I was like, "Dude, it's much easier to carry a pump across the aisle with all these athletes going by than it is for me to wheel my bike across the aisle!" He was pretty mean about it and told me I needed to wait for it to be clear. Uh huh, I'd be standing there for another hour if I waited for that! And just like Frogger, I maneuvered my way across the streaming flow of athletes and shoved my back wheel towards the technicians. The technicians were awesome. One tried to calm me down while the other immediately pumped my tire. I asked if it would hold, due to the fact the glue on the spare was kinda old. One guy says to me, "Sure, just don't go fast." HUH??? Another one tells me to take it easy on the turns, but it should hold no problem.


I struggle to turn the bike around in the small space and try not to block other athletes. I now run out with this huge crowd of bikers. It was a zoo. I would later find out that no less than 700 athletes passed me during the time it took me to take care of this flat. Depressing. I got back to the Mount Line, got on the bike and started riding. NOW it feels right! Whew! I took more deep breaths and congratulated myself for not freaking out. Alright, now focus. Just stick to the plan and try to forget about how much time you just lost.


I settled in to my rhythym and tried to enjoy the ride. It was not a hard pace, in fact, many times, I purposely made myself ride slower. This would be a long day. Even with all the lost time with the flat, bikers whizzed by me. I tried not to think about it, just trying to ride my own ride. But it's hard. Especially when you're not working so hard and you know you can keep up with/go faster than whoever is passing you at the moment. STICK TO THE PLAN! I drank regularly and my nutrition was spot on. I took water at all but one aid station and grabbed a couple of bananas when I could. I passed by the special needs bags and decided I didn't need anything. There was no one there to hand me my bag anyway. The miles went by - 60, 70, 80...and I waited for that, "OMIGOD, is it over yet?" feeling. More miles 90, 100...hey, I still feel pretty good! Packs of bikers would go by, drafting. I did see some penalties given. I thought about drafting because it seemed like so many people were doing it, but that would make me ride the pace of the group, not my own pace. And I was really excited to see what I could do on my own. No matter how fast my bike split is, I could never place in a race like this, so I just wanted to stick to my plan and see how I could do. I was quite confident it would be better than last time!!


The wind had picked up in the later miles of the race. As people continued to pass me, I couldn't help but think that this wouldn't be happening had I not had that stupid flat!! ENOUGH! I had to stop thinking negatively about it. I was, though, still pretty cautious around the turns. I kept thinking my poorly glued spare was going to roll right off the rim. Fortunately, there weren't a whole lot of turns on this course and no real downhill to worry about! I got off the bike feeling very good, and the spare held up the entire ride!


I was lucky to have someone take my bike when I rode in, but once again, had to find my own transition bag. I ran over to the tent, slowly, as I fumbled with my Garmin to change it to run mode. I got into the transition tent and did a full wardrobe change. The volunteer helping me was kinda rude, barking at me and I wished she would go away. Just stop moving my stuff, I can do it! But she's only trying to help, so I just dealt with it. I was bummed there was no water in the tent, but I expected there would be some right outside the tent before we got on the run course. I was yelled at to turn my number to the front as I left transition, and I carried my visor as I started running.


Right out of the transition, there was the Saint, yelling to me, said he saw the flat, but that I still managed to put up a pretty good bike split. The way I calculated it, I lost about 15-20 minutes on that fiasco, but I couldn't be sure. Again, I tried not to think about it...can't change it now, anyway. What's done is done. I was running at a pretty good pace and felt great. A deer darted across the course while I was in Andrews Park. Little guy looked all confused with all these runners crowding his territory! I tried to remember to focus on nutrition and to take regular walk breaks. I got through the first 10 miles pretty easily, but then I started to slow down. A woman on the side of the road called out..."MJ...Is that MJ?? HEY - it's Jen Harrison!" And I smiled and said hi back. It was really cool that she was out there cheering people on and even cooler that she recognized me! It gave me a quick boost and I tried to keep on running. By the time I got to the half way point, the Saint was there again, standing outside our condo with the spouses of KK, JQ and sometimes BC.

He said I looked good, but I wasn't feeling good. My quads were starting to ache, no doubt due to the lack of running. Interestingly enough, I didn't feel any shin pain whatsoever.


I continued on my run/walk plan, chose to pass by the special needs bag and hoped I wouldn't freeze on the second loop of the run. I was in a good place mentally, I just hoped my quads wouldn't get worse. Not sure who did it, but someone typed in a message at the motivation checkpoint...THANK YOU to whoever put that message in there. It lifted my spirits as the sun set and I was handed a glow necklace. And though I felt like I was slowing, my pace stayed amazingly consistent until about mile 22. My legs felt heavy and the sound of my feet shuffling on the pavement irritated me. I just didn't have the strength to pick them up high enough to not make that noise any more. I counted down the miles and kept thinking what 4 miles left of Waterfall Glen feels like...then 3 miles, then 2 miles. With 1 mile left to go, I vowed to run the whole mile in. The pain in my legs was worse than any pain I've had before, but not injury pain. This is what you get when you only train up to 12 miles, then attempt to go out and run 26. I can do it...just 1 mile.


I could hear the announcer calling finisher names and saying, "YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!" I didn't hear them announce my name at either of my other 2 Ironman races, so I hoped I'd be able to hear it today. Down the finishing chute, the specators are lined up on both sides, cheering athletes in. As sore and tired as I was, that rush of coming in...finishing an Ironman race...feels great! There were a couple of guys close in front of me and I thought about slowing a little so I could have a good finish photo, but then I decided I just wanted it to be over. I'm not slowing down for a picture that I'm probably not going to purchase anyway. And the volunteers at the finish could barely get the finishing ribbon back across the finish fast enough as I ran in right behind another guy. I lifted my arms and tried to smile. As I crossed, I finally heard, "MJ, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!"

Taper Time

Two of my favorite words "taper time." It just feels like it has been a very long, trying season for me. From a marathon in Dec 2006 to a marathon in April 2007 followed by a half ironman less than a week later, there really was no down time between the 2006 and 2007 season. And now I'm paying for it.

Up until the end of July, my season was spectacular and I realize that. However, the shin injury set me back...way back. It's one of the most frustrating thing an athlete can go through. I've done anything and everything to try and remedy the situation, but it doesn't seem to be working. On top of that, I've put in hours upon hours of time on the bike. More time than I have in any year past. And just 8 days ago, I was feeling great! Well, the shin is still an issue, which I'm dealing with, but everything else felt awesome and ready to go.

But something happened in the last week that doesn't feel so good. It's called burn out. Or exhaustion. I don't care what the hell you call it, it sucks! I just want this damn race over with now. I am tired of training and not making any gains. I'm tired of trying to baby the shin just to have it hurt the instant I step out for a run. I'm tired of 2 workouts a day and neither of them feeling particularly good. Let's just face it, I'm tired.

At this point in the game, that's OK. I'm supposed to be tired. I've racked up tons of hours on the bike and in the pool and now it's time for all that training volume to be lowered...slowly and systematically. Boy, do I need it. I just about had a break down on the bike over the weekend. The wind was not my friend and it simply beat the energy out of me.

So with just under 2 weeks to go, I'm not feeling so great. I'm doubting everything I have and haven't done in preparation for this race. I don't want to be outside anymore, it's too cold. It's too early to try and predict weather conditions for the race, yet I find myself on weather.com every day trying to scope out the extended forecast. I wonder if my shin is going to hold up for 26 miles or if I'm going to end up being forced to quit at some point during the run. And I wonder why on earth I signed up for another Ironman (it's BC's fault).

I welcome the taper. I know I'll have pent up energy and I want that feeling. Sure, I'll be driving everyone else crazy with my inability to sit still, but at least I'll HAVE some energy. In a few days, I will start packing for the trip. It's starting to sink in. We're in the home stretch of the preparation for Ironman Florida 2007!

Long Swim

Today was a 4800 yard swim workout. Most of this was a set of 3 x 1000. Now, I really like swimming. I look forward to getting into the pool, lake or wherever I'm going to get in some yards. But 3 x 1000? Ugh, how boring. This is a workout I wouldn't even try to convince someone to come do with me. I didn't even want to do it. However, the Ironman swim is a long, continuous effort, so I understand the benefits of getting in a set of this distance.

Here is a list of random thoughts I had during my swim this morning:

• The water is nice and clear, why do I keep cutting these turns short?


• Why do so many old people walk "laps" in the pool?


• What the hell is that floating in my lane?


• I wonder how cold it's going to be outside for my long ride this weekend.


• I miss summer already.


• What time is it?


• Keep your head lower in the water.


• Try to remember to KICK!


• Oops, missed another turn.


• Hope this guy doesn't try hopping in my lane.


• Do those Swimp3 players work? I could use some music.


• Shoot - was that 650 or 700?


• Concentrate on the bilateral breathing - evens out the stroke.


• KICK!


• How many jellyfish are there going to be at IMFL?


• I think Sheila was stung in the face by a jellyfish...


• Damn, this is a long-ass set.


• Maybe I should cut it short.


• No, I can't. Keep going. Smooth.


• This is so boring. Ironman swimming isn't this boring.


• At least I'm not getting the crap beat out of me during this swim.


• I think my fingers are getting pruny.


• My goggles are too tight.


• What goggles am I going to use for the race?


• Am I done yet?


• That dude needs to stop looking at me.

And that was just the first 1000. I finished the whole thing, times staying consistent. The thing I need to think about is how much different swimming in salt water is going to be. I'd like to think it's not going to be that much different, but I don't know for sure. It's not like I've done any amount of "real" swimming in salt water. My experiences with salt water usually involve a mask, snorkel and fins along with nice, cold alcoholic beverages afterwards! Not much I can do at this point, so I'm not spending any time worrying about it. After all, the swim is just the warm up....the "introduction" to the day!

One More Month

Just one month from today will be Ironman Florida. Nervousness has not set in, though I know it will. The thing about Ironman is that it is an event that you typically sign up for a year in advance. In fact, the last several IM North America races (North America is like the "big daddy" of Ironman races) have filled up within just hours. That's right, hours. And then the event just looms in front of you for the next 364 days. Oh sure, you go on about your normal daily business, but always somewhere in the back of your mind you think, "I'm doing an Ironman." The thoughts of the Ironman get more and more frequent as the days slip by.

It wasn't that long ago when I thought, "Gee, I might want to actually start training for the Ironman." Don't laugh, it's true. Yes, sure, I've been working out year 'round. My first half ironman this season was in April. And I've continued to race regularly throughout the season (or at least until the shin splint injury struck).

But make no mistake, just swimming, biking and running isn't technically "training" for the Ironman. There's a big difference between working out and actually training for the race. It's sorta like saying that if you just go out and run every day, you're ready for a marathon. The truth is, you're not. And though the training plan doesn't need to be a big, long, meticulous plan, there does need to be a plan.

The swim - well, as confident of a swimmer that I am, I actually dread the ironman swim. Oh no, it's not the length. 2.4 miles? Heck, make it 5 miles, I don't care. No, see the big fear I have (from past experience) is getting knocked around so much so that it feels like you are drowning.

Within minutes of my start at Ironman Coeur d'Alene, I was panicking, out of breath and the adrenaline was shooting throughout my body. I wanted to cry. This is so not how I wanted my day to start. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I try to situate myself toward the front of the pack, with the more aggressive swimmers. But as I talk to anyone who has done an Ironman, it seems this feeling happens to just about everyone (well, maybe not the pros). The sad part about this is that the swim should be the "warm up" to what is supposed to be a great day. The swim is my strength and I really want to enjoy this part of the race. Unfortunately, I don't. If I'm really lucky, by about half way through the swim, the field opens up or I swing wide to get away from all the bodies kicking and flailing their arms (well, that's what it feels like their doing!). I wonder why the hell the guy next to me won't move over and I have to remind myself he's probably boxed in just like I am. I try very hard not to waste energy on getting angry and frustrated. See this, I'm already thinking about how dreadful the swim will be and I still have 30 days left to go through this wonderful experience!

Bike - I don't care who you are, 112 miles on a bike isn't fun. Oh yeah, it's great in the beginning...and if you're lucky, the middle is pretty good, too. But then, just like the "wall" in the marathon, I guess we have a "mountain" on the bike. It typically comes around mile 80 or 90 when nothing feels good and you just want to be off the bike. If you're reading this thinking, "well, at that point, you don't have much more to go," just stop yourself. 20 or 30 miles is a very LONG way to go when you're feeling spent and you're sore from being in the aero position not to mention your crotch (yes, I said it). It takes a very strong mental attitude to push through this time and at Couer d'Alene, I almost didn't make it. My mental will was weak. Thankfully, there was no aid station at my low point, or I would've pulled over and called it a day. I couldn't just stop in the middle of nowhere. By the time I got to the next aid station, I was feeling a little better. But it was pure happiness when I pulled into T2 and was able to get off that bike!!

The run - ah, the run. Er, um, run/walk. Or, uh, just walk. Also known as "the death march." If you're lucky, you can start off running. I think many people need to start off walking just to get their legs used to being off the bike. And if you're even luckier, you can continue to run. When I set out to do this upcoming Ironman, my goal was not to walk during the marathon portion. After the injury in July, I considered pulling out of this race. Once I decided, just a few weeks ago, that I could still do this race, my goal then changed to just being able to finish. And that's so not me. But with the lack of run training, I have no idea how this will go. It's too late to turn back now. I'm doin' this.

Great Illini - FULL Aquabike (2.4 swim, 112 bike)

It was just 38 degrees outside at the start of the race. Once I set up transition, I went to wait in the heated car. I waited until the last minute, then I struggled to put my wetsuit on while sitting in the car. I set my feet on the cold, wet grass and worried about how cold I was going to be for this very long race. By the time I walked over to where they were giving the race talk, my feet hurt from the cold. It was announced that the start would be delayed because of the fog coming up from the lake, it would be impossible for the swimmers to see where they were going. No sooner was the talk over that I headed over to the lake to get my feet submerged. The lake temperature was supposedly 77 degrees. It felt like I had stepped into a hot tub! I wasn't the only one with that idea. Most of the ironman competitors ran over to the water and as soon as they stepped in, they would utter "Ahhhhh" and smiles would come to their faces.

Not much time passed, then it was announced that we would start in 10 minutes. WHAT?? I still can't see anything out there. We knew we were to go out 3 buoys, and we could barely see the second one. The volunteers in the boats assured the race director that we'd be able to see the third buoy once we got to the second one. The two people you see looking at the camera with our arms crossed are BC and myself. It was chilly, even with the wetsuit on and we were anxious to get moving. I wanted to stay close to him and see if I could catch a good draft! It was then announced that we were waiting another 10 minutes or so. I guess that was good, for visibility purposes, but none of the athletes were too happy that we'd already gotten in the water and now had to wait for an indefinite amount of time. The water was about 77, so it wasn't so bad. We were able to spot Aaron and Eileen, two other Salt Creek Tri Club members, both making their first Ironman appearance.

Then the announcement was made that we'd be starting in 6 minutes. Huh? I still can't see anything. The volunteers in a nearby boat said they have boats all around the course and they'd help direct us.

We were off, heading toward the next buoy. I was immediately drafting off someone and hoped they could see where they were going because the sun was blinding and the fog that was hovering over the top of the water was so thick, I couldn't see much in front of me...including the person I was drafting off of! We passed the second buoy and I just kept following the person in front of me. I noticed there were about 4-5 of us sticking close together. All of a sudden, we stopped. The volunteers in the boats were yelling at us that we were way off course and were pointing in the direction we needed to go. We turned, tried to sight a buoy, but still, I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me. Somehow, we got to that buoy and turned. We were swimming once again in this small, tight little pack and we managed to get to the next buoy. Then the person to my left stopped, so I stopped. She asked me "Which way?" I didn't know. Then I saw Aaron's face pop out of the water. Then I heard a familiar voice..."Bernie?" "MJ?" It was like the movie theater scene from Seinfeld where Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer all start calling out to one another when they realized they were all at the same show. It was frustrating, but I think that was my favorite moment of the race.

We were yelling to the boats now, "WHICH WAY?" They'd point and we'd just head off in that general direction. Once we'd get to the next buoy, the process started all over, we all stopped, looked around and yelled to the boats for direction. I tried not to lead at this point because it seemed like we were going way off course and the first person who could realize the right direction was the one not putting in all the extra distance!

Once we finished the first loop of the course, visibility improved tremendously. I think in this picture, I'm drafting off BC. Once I was able to see the buoys for myself, I just swam alone, headed straight for the buoy. I felt relaxed and the lake was smooth as glass. I thought about how cold I was going to be when I got out of this water, so I tried to enjoy it. I then started passing some of the half ironman swimmers. Their yellow caps made sighting pretty easy. I wasn't working too hard, but I wasn't exactly slacking out there, either. Once I could see the beach area, I tried to swim just a little faster.

I got out of the water and ran to my bike. Unfortunately, this race didn't have wetsuit strippers. I ripped off the wetsuit, grabbed my bag of bike clothes and ran into the women's changing tent. BC was at the rack right next to me, making fun of me that I was actually going to change. I got into the tent and was happy to see Sally in there laughing and smiling about how crazy it was that we were racing in such cold weather. She was in no hurry since she was going to get some pictures of Eileen. There were no chairs in the changing tent, nor was there anyone in there to help. I was thankful Sally was in there because I needed her help in pulling my bra on....that's quite a challenging feat when you're soaking wet! She graciously helped me out and I got my jersey on quickly and ran back to my bike. BC was just about ready to leave...WHAT? He was beating me out of transition! I had to let him go. I still needed to get my shoes and socks on, arm warmers, headband and 2 pairs of gloves on before I was leaving. At the last minute, I decided I did not need a jacket. I tossed it on the ground and ran out of transition.

I clipped in pretty quickly and started off. Boy, I was cold! I looked down and the wrong display was on my computer. I must've looked down for too long because by the time I looked up, I was headed off to the side of the road in some deep, loose gravel. It was too late and my reaction to turn the bike back onto the road was too late. I fell less than a quarter mile into the bike course. I hit my elbow very hard and my head lightly tapped the pavement. I was REALLY happy I was wearing arm warmers! I quickly got up, picked up my water bottle with all my nutrition for the day in it and placed it back in the bottle holder. I then scanned the bike over to make sure nothing looked like it was rubbing on the tires, got back on and rode away. I was sort of surprised that another athlete or a volunteer didn't come over to see if I was OK. I mean, I was fine, but usually people run over and hover around when you fall. Guess it was good no one came over, it was quite embarrassing! However, I expect a phone call from the race director asking if I am OK! :)

I rode for about 10-15 minutes and was still chilly. I hadn't attempted to get into the aero bars because right where I'd put my elbow is where I fell and it hurt much too much to put down on the pad. So I tried pulling my arm in a little closer so that the place where the impact was was well off the pad. It was a tad uncomfortable, but it was either that or ride up like a sail for the entire 112 miles! There was a really rough section of road where I wondered why on earth they'd put us on that road! There was a lot of loose gravel on the sides and it all blended in with the rest of the street, so it was difficult to tell where the gravel was. I rode slowly through this section. I didn't want to fall again! The rough road wasn't too long and I went to take a drink from my aero bottle. Uh oh. Empty. Guess all my water came out when I fell. Great. Now I have to ride 14 miles without any water. At this point, I'm glad it's not too hot outside!

The course was weird...several out and backs and then do the whole thing again. This was good to be able to see BC tearing up the course, putting some serious distance between me and him, Aaron riding along up ahead, smiling and enjoying the day and I could see who was gaining on me. I briefly saw Angie looking very fast and smiling. I was also able to see Eileen a couple of times and Sally. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and was enjoying the ride. Despite being a little cool early in the ride, I decided I was quite comfortable temperature-wise.

I got to about mile 30 when my contact popped out of my eye due to the strong wind. I pulled over to put it back in when I noticed it was ripped. DAMN! I tossed it aside and hopped back on my bike. This very same thing happened to me at IMCDA last year. And almost the same mile mark! Guess it's time for me to look into some LASIK! It bothered me for a little while, but I got used to riding with just one contact pretty quickly. It only was an issue when I felt the other contact start sliding out that I started to get a bit nervous. If I lost the second one, I'd have to quit. My vision is not good enough to be able to ride without contacts!

The turn arounds on the out and back sections were tight. They caused me to slow down, unclip and slowly move around the cones. I watched one woman in front of me fall while trying to navigate around the sharp turns. She was fine, but I had to stop to let her get out of the way to pass. I felt good passing her, she rode right by me when I was messing around with my contact and never asked if I was OK. I got to the last turnaround of the first lap and the volunteer said we were at mile 51. FIFTY-ONE? That's it? I groaned as I realized I wasn't even half way through yet. I was getting uncomfortable and knew the second half of the ride was going to be tougher.

At the beginning of the second loop, I grabbed a water bottle from one of the volunteers. It was unopened. I tossed it down and grabbed another one from a second volunteer. Still unopened. OK, someone should have explained to these volunteers that we need the bottles OPENED! So I tried opening the bottle several times with my teeth. When I realized it was too difficult, I angrily tossed the bottle to my right with such force, I almost lost control of the bike. Oops. That was stupid. I was fuming for the next few miles. That cold water would have tasted really good. And this course wasn't exactly stocked with aid stations!

Tougher it was as the wind seemed to pick up and I felt the front wheel swing a little out of my control at a few points. I almost lost it just after one of the turn arounds. It felt like someone grabbed the handlebars and yanked them over to the left. I rode on and eventually caught up to Aaron. He was still smiling and very positive. I reminded him to pace himself...he still had to run, I did not. He was being smart about the race and tried conserving a little on the second half, which I was very proud of him for. BC continued to gain ground and he was leading the race! It was really cool to see him out in front of all the other competitors. I yelled out to him as we passed each other that he was leading, but he already knew and I think it spurred him on to push even faster. Just after seeing him, another competitor heading back in yelled to me that I was the first woman. Really? Oh yeah, I was first out of the water and no women had passed me. And we were at mile 80 or so. Nice!

And there she was. She came out of nowhere and didn't say a word as she pased me. The woman with the yellow bike and purple bikini bottom flew by me and I was bummed that she was now taking the lead spot. As much as I thought about chasing her, I knew I needed to stick to my plan and it didn't include surge that would enable me to stay with her. OK, so what, so you're not first, I thought. Well, I'm not even doing the whole race, so it doesn't even matter!

I kept on going steady and as the end of the bike leg neared, I still felt very strong, yet still uncomfortable. My elbow was still throbbing, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I just tried not to think about it. I'll take care of it later. I came to that last turn around, where I was at just 51 miles the first pass through. And I felt strong, so I picked up the pace a little. Well, maybe that was just in my head, but I wanted to finish strong. I saw Sally pull ahead of me in her car, freshly showered and out there cheering me on in. It was a lift to see her. I steered on up to the dismount area where the volunteers were yelling that I was the first woman in. HUH? What happened with the purple bikini chick on the yellow bike?

I uneventfully crossed the timing mat into transition and, though I felt like I could've run, I was happy I didn't have to! My race was over. I then learned that the purple bikini on the yellow bike was actually a MAN! Hee hee!! Someone needs to let the dude know he shouldn't be wearing those bottoms, but whatever. I caught up with BC in transition and he cleaned up my road rash from my fall. I'm really happy I did this event. Excellent preparation for the upcoming Ironman!

New Year's Resolutions

I'm not one of those people that waits until the end of the year to try and do/change something about myself. The way I see it, why do we need to wait until the start of a new year to try and improve something? That being said, I also like to think back to the events over the last year and try to set some new goals for myself for the upcoming year.

In fact, I have been carrying around a piece of paper that had 5 goals on it. The date was 2.27.04 (as I said, I don't just make "resolutions" around the new year!). Up until this month, I had already accomplished 3 of the 5. Number 4 was qualifying for Boston. I still have to reach Number 5. What is it, you ask? It's to run a 21 minute 5K. And even as I type that, I cringe because I know how tough that will be for me. However, in all fairness, I haven't run a plain old 5K in...well, I think it was 2004! And I don't think 2007 will be the year for me to tackle this one, either. There are just too many other things I want to do. But that goal will stay on my "list" until I can scratch it off with all the others. And I will continue to carry the tattered piece of paper these goals are written on to remind me that I still have some things to do!

To recap 2006:

-Worked with a coach from Dec 2005 - August 2006
-Traveled out to California for 2 races, a marathon in Feb and the Wildflower Half Ironman in May
-Placed in my age group in two MERCRS races
-Dropped almost a half hour in my second Ironman
-Had a couple really poor triathlon performances
-Qualified for the Boston Marathon

Without a doubt, qualifying for Boston was the highlight of my year. What a bummer that I had to wait until DECEMBER for the accomplishment that made it feel like I really "did" something in the past year.

So now I've been thinking about what things I want to do/try/improve/accomplish in 2007:

1. Transfer my recent running improvements to my triathlon performance. I don't know how to translate my latest running times into triathlon at this point. There are so many variables, the biggest one being that I was dedicating 5-6 days a week to running to achieve these times. This isn't possible when training for triathlon, so I know the times will be slower. But how much slower? I can't tell. So I will set an A, B and C goal. The A goal is the best-case scenario and I'm running out of my mind; the B goal is something that isn't a specatular improvment, but it's noteworthy and still something to be proud of, the C goal will be the ever-so-slight improvment, so like going from a 54-minute 10K in an Olympic race to a 53.

2. Do some bike racing. I went into last year thinking I was going to do all these bike races. I did one...in the springtime and never looked back. The thing was, it was fun and I did well! It's just that the bike training and racing never fit into my schedule when I was working with a coach. I was tied to a pretty strict workout plan and couldn't figure out how to make bike racing fit in. I thought "after my Ironman, then I'll have time." But I was so wiped out and unmotivated after the Ironman, I didn't care about bike racing. Heck, I didn't even care about racing triathlons after that.

3. Start looking into ultrarunning. This one is going to be tricky. Ultra running is anything over a marathon. I think I'll want to start with a 50K (30 miles). If I can do 26, I can do 30, right? Then maybe eventually move to a 50 mile. I don't know. I think this is something I'd like to do once just to say I did it...well, wait, that's what I said about the marathon. I also said that about adventure racing and after this year's Scallion, well, let's just say I can see another adventure race in my future. OK, back to the ultra running...this will be hard to time. There are events in the spring and I think they have one here in Chicago in late fall. I really need to get more familiar with the sport before I can target any specific races. Actually participating in one might not happen until 2008...have to talk to some people and do some research.

4. Volunteer. I've volunteered at a few races this year. We all know our sport wouldn't be successful without the help of the many volunteers. Volunteering at this year's Ironman Wisconsin was a very rewarding experience. I'm not sure I will volunteer at that particular race again, but I will pick at least one, and hopefully several, races where I can help out. For all the racing I do and all the volunteers that have helped me out, this is the least I can do.

Well, those are the ones at the forefront of my mind. I have a few other ideas floating around in my head, but I'm not quite ready to share them. But that doesn't mean I will wait another whole year to start working on them, they just need more thinking through before I commit.

Here's to a healthy, successful, and of course, speedy 2007.
Bring it!