just a little swim...

...in some cold, turbulent water. But you get over that. Well, as soon as you get out of the swim you get over that!
Quick recap of last year's swim - choppy, choppy, choppy...my first IM swim and NOTHING prepares you for that...my "moment" about 2 minutes into the swim when I popped up out of the water and had to give myself a stern talking to convincing myself I could do it...and then being SO grateful to be finished.
This year's swim - not as choppy but still MAYHEM on the first lap due to 2,000 + people all trying to crowd into what becomes a rather small water space. I eventually found my way and even recall swimming normal strokes for some part of that first stretch out. Until I got to the turn buoy. YIKES. Same chaos as last year - it actually felt worse to me this year. And then we turned DIRECTLY into the sun. Seriously, if it hadn't been for the kayakers yelling "Go right" I would have had no idea where I was. I was just hoping I was to the left of wherever they were! I followed the sea of (mostly red - boy) caps to the next buoy only to find the same chaos. This time someone actually yelled "Everyone just calm down and let the water pull you around!" And sure enough, if you did that it was like an eddy in a river and you get swept around. The issue is that everyone needs to do it! But once you round that buoy you're helped by the current and the stretch back to shore was a bit like body surfing. A nice reward. Goggles had been punched pretty hard - once in each eye (I was actually expecting a black eye!) - but no fogging issues at all. Thanks, Brad, for the tip! Quick jog on the beach where I saw Marisa which helped me know I must be having an okay swim because she's just a tad faster in the water...and then it was back in for round two.
This is a slightly tough thing about a two loop swim course. You're so relieved to have survived the first loop, you get teased by a quick run on land, and then you have to dive in and do it all again. But I also knew that the second loop was likely to be better than the first. And it was. I actually swam (1-2-3 breathing to both sides and all!) the whole way. And the turn buoys were better because everyone had spread out a little. But I did have to question the position of the helicopter...really...right above us, creating more waves on the water...I know it's for safety or media or something but honestly, we don't need any other disturbances in there. A pod of human seals quite enough.
Second loop felt much faster than the first although in hindsight they were about the same.
Ran out of the water...quick glance at the clock (SHOCKED to see that I'd made the outer edge of my goal time...woot...keep it going, ETG!)...and then I started the wetsuit peel. It's important to get the upper half off BEFORE you hit the wetsuit strippers so that they can yank the bottom half off and send you on your way. Located an empty pair of strippers and said, "I'm coming to you!" and plopped myself down. "Super fast...good job!", they cried as I ran off, wetsuit in hand, past my T1 bag and then back to it, heard Chrissie and Jim - I think I said "hi", and then into the changing tent.

T1: rather uneventful...it's much easier when you're not doing a full change like I did last year (thank goodness for sunny, warmer weather...although I was cursing it a little at the end of the day!). And it's a good thing I didn't need to do much because the volunteers were all busy with other people. Which was fine. I'd been spoiled last year; I was a "veteran"; and it was actually sort of nice to sit there and not have to worry about answering questions, even when the volunteers were just trying to help. Saw Jennifer in the tent and said hi to her and then handed my bag off to a volunteer who had just become free. She apologized for me having to "fend for myself" and I just smiled and said, "No problem. Thanks for taking this now and for being here." Turned down gummy bears on my way out of the tent (next time I'm taking some!) and ran across the basketball course and into transition to find my bike. Spotted it easily and made my way to the bike mount line nearly 4 minutes faster than last year. Nice...but made me think that I'm not so slow at full clothes changes either!

Enough of my internal dialogue, huh? Let's get on with the show...

The days leading up to the race were a wonderful blend of activity and downtime. I actually needed both, physically and mentally. The light workouts got us ready for the water temps and the weather and kept our bodies primed for race day. And the downtime helped keep our bodies rested for race day...and helped me try to keep the cold/fever combo that did not stay in TX as ordered at bay. (Actually, I'm fairly certain that I ran a low-grade fever nearly every day for some part of the day leading up to the race...which is not exactly ideal...but the race gods smiled down on me and I was fever-free on race day!) We picked up bikes, dropped off bikes and bags, ate well, laughed a lot, drove the bike course, rode part of the bike course, packed and unpacked bags, made plans for race day...and eventually went to bed on race day eve. Thank goodness Chrissie was around to keep our workouts in order and help calm our nerves. And when Jim showed up on the scene, we got even calmer. It's amazing what a few triathletes who are not racing can do to make things better for those who are racing. Jim and Chrissie helped us organize, double check, and carry bags...they answered wardrobe questions...they spoke in gentle, reassuring tones and made sure we were still breathing.
On race day morning, our house woke up just a little before 4:00 a.m. and started our individual race day prep routines. Bagel with almond butter in bed for me as I checked emails, re-listened to voicemails from the night before, and looked over both notes of encouragement and my race goals. A little coffee...another 1/2 a bagel...and LOTS of water + 1 Emergen-C and some Cold Snap just in case Mr. Cold decided to rear his ugly head. Around 5:15 a.m., with morning clothes and special needs bags in tow, we headed over to the race site. Dustin, Erin, and Brad came over to our house to walk over with us. It felt good and comforting to have the gang together and our little parade over to the race site must have been quite a sight. I think my favorite part was Chrissie with her rolling bag in which our bike pumps and morning clothes bags would be stowed! That's some awesome sherpa-ing right there. Bodymarking was our first "must do" for race day. I was clever and when I put on my compression socks that morning I forgot that I would need to show them a calf for body marking. Not a problem. I quickly took off one sock and then proceeded to walk around until I put my wetsuit on with only one sock. I'm sure that was intimidating to the other women in my age group! Next stop - our bikes and bags. Pump up the tires...add necessary items to our Bento boxes...find little notes from Jess ("trust your training...trust yourself") that would be carried with me all day...drop off morning clothes bags...add nutrition to run bag...drink water...find Amy B for a quick hug...lose teammates...re-unite with teammates...and eventually regroup in time to put wetsuits on. This is really an exercise in and of itself. It is not quick. You really need someone to help you make sure it's pulled up, pulled out, tucked away, and generally suctioned to your body in just the right ways. Enter Chrissie! Thankfully she was there to tug, stretch, pull, and give the final seal of approval to the wetsuit fittings of the day. After what seemed like an hour, we were a happily clad bunch of neoprene seals sipping on our water and opening our gel packs for some last minute carb hits before heading down to the beach. The good news about these moments is that I am usually still a little bit giddy about the race. That is to say that the "what the &*(#@! am I doing?" thought hasn't really crossed my mind yet. But that generally changes right about now. At this moment, we say good-bye to our awesome sherpas and head down to the beach...which is a bit of a shuffle with a couple of our thousand closest neoprene-clad friends. The T3ers pretty much stuck together which felt good. Jess and I in all of our 5' + not a lot-height were leading the way which made us giggle. But once on the beach we reassembled in a more reasonable fashion with the boys up front and the girls a step or two behind them. It was now time to contemplate the swim...

prologue to a race report...

Feel free to ignore my blog over the next few days if you'd rather not relive my experiences on June 27, 2010 in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho! But I'm going to try to piece together a day that was the culmination of 6 months of training, endless hours of happiness, some moments of exhaustion and frustration, never ceasing support from family and friends and teammates and coaches, buckets of wisdom from teammates and coaches (and friends and family, too), and a chance to see just what I'm made of when I'm pushed to the limit physically. The point at which for me this thing called Ironman also becomes a mental and spiritual experience, too.
After we arrived in CDA, I had some flashbacks to last year when I toed the line at IMCDA that gave me both confidence and anxiety. I felt like a seasoned Ironman and like the youngest rookie in the crowd at the same time. You see, each race (heck, each training session!) is so different that sometimes you wonder just what your experience buys you. Even if you've ridden the hills before, swum in those waters before, pounded that pavement before, there are so many variables in both the environment and you that each experience is distinct. And maybe that's what keeps us coming back. That and the fervent belief that it's an incredibly rewarding journey...regardless of the outcome.
But I'd be lying if I said that the outcome didn't matter to me. I honestly believed I was a better, stronger athlete than a year ago. I knew that I'd gotten faster on the bike and on the run. And I thought that without the tumultuous water in the lake that I might be able to come up with a better swim time, too. Yes, I had time goals. Yes, I had personal goals. And at the end of the day the only reason that they mattered to me was that I didn't want to let myself down. That's why I cared. I knew that other people were already proud of me so I wasn't necessarily worried about disappointing them. I was most worried about disappointing myself, about not doing my best, about not being strong enough mentally to overcome the challenges of the day, about so many things that others might laugh at. But they were my fears. And they were very real. Not in a paralyzing way but in a very humbling way.
Last year, my fear was that I might not finish. And while that is never a given in any race, especially an Ironman, that wasn't my first fear this year. I trusted that I could, because I had last year. And that was my goal last year - to finish. This year, I expected something more from myself. But I knew that this year would be completely different - because every race is. And because I was different coming to this place again.
With the physical part of the training behind me, I was left with these mental hurdles in the days before the race. This is the part of IM training that I think really makes me/us stronger. Yes, as a group we might be able to bike a greater distance than the average person but at the end of your life what does that give you. Not that much...unless you're a pro or your life depends on biking?! It's the mental fortitude that is the greatest gain in my opinion. The lessons you learn about what you can endure (physically and mentally), the lessons you learn about where your strength comes from when physically you are "done", the lessons you learn about what you really need to press on...these are the life lessons. This is why I'll keep coming back to this sport and this distance.
And, not to give anything away too early, I got a full dose of those lessons on race day. Jumped some major hurdles. Experienced some incredible things. And think I'm all the better for it...even if my splits might not have been right on cue!

yoga Monday

YAY...back to yoga Mondays...and because it was a holiday from work I could go to Deralyn's 8:00 a.m. class which meant I both got to sleep in AND have Deralyn as a teacher again. Happy day.
Such a great message this morning, too...and oddly enough, but in terms of my yoga practice not odd at all, one that I've been thinking about a lot as I process my IM last week (was it just a week ago?!) and what I learned from it in terms of my triathlon life and my life in general.
Here's some of what Deralyn shared with us from Baron Baptiste's Journey Into Power:
"Mistake 4 - Not Recognizing That the Prize Is In the Process: There are no prizes for perfect poses, no ultimate goal here. Yoga practice is a journey with no end. You'll grow and even transform along the way, but ultimately there is no arriving. When that moment of revelation hits you, it is one of the most important internal shifts... I remember realizing early on that there were no limits as to how far I could go in a pose; I knew I'd never get bored, because there was always another depth to reach. So perhaps I got into it initially because of the challenge. But I stayed with yoga and made it my focus because of the beauty of the process that yoga continues to take me through...
There are two basic mind-sets. One that involves viewing a posture as something to be achieved, a goal to complete; how far you get in the posture is what counts in your mind... Because we are so focused on performing, we potentially miss out on something magnificent. The other mind-set views the posture as a tool to explore and open the body. Instead of using the body as an ego boost, you use the posture to get to know and gain understanding of your body and mental patterns. The poses then become experiments to reveal and work through the resistances that block you so that you can ultimately move through them...
It is always best to trust the natural order of things... In China, farmers begin the process of growing bamboo by burying the root four feet under the earth. For a couple of years, they water it, fertilize it, and nurture it without seeing it or knowing if it's still alive. Then suddenly, after two years of patience and love, it shoots ninety feet into the sky within sixty days. The point is that sometimes results are barely visible, but every fraction of an inch of progress is meaningful... Let go of the ambition and embrace the patience of peeling back your layers. Just be where you are, play your edge, and the prizes will be revealed along the way. Transformation is an endless process to be lived. It cannot be captured or possessed; you can only participate in it."
Very cool to hear all of this again. A familiar message applied to yoga...and to my life. I dance a fine line between being goal-oriented and process-oriented. I want to be more of the latter...and about 85% of the time I actually am. And then that little judgmental, goal-oriented, type-A voice creeps in and throws me off. I think I need both voices to keep me going...I just need to keep them in balance!

a whole weekend of fireworks

"Fireworks" as in good news or happy moments...finished off by the real thing on the 4th of July (along with deep gratitude for all of our freedoms).

- a former student who was in a terrible accident is now out of his coma...amazing! Some precious moments with his family at the ICU.
- the continued goodness of Fisher Davis Works...and the permanent smiles on the faces of his parents, Kimberly and John. He's just precious...and healthy!
- a flexible weekend without a long run or long ride...and morning hours to SLEEP (which I took full advantage of today...yes, until 8:30 a.m. folks!)
- time to work on transcribing Granddaddy's journal from the war...such a treat to be able to do this. Learning a lot about WWII and his experience in it. Seeing a totally different side of his relationship with Gran. Gosh, he was SO in love with her. Hope I might be so lucky some day!
- time to read...ah...I've missed this. (During IM training I usually read for about 5 minutes before going to bed and then promptly fall asleep so it takes me months to get through a book!)
- an impromptu glass of wine with friends...with no morning workouts to worry about!
- way too much post-IM food (regular healthy eating resumes tomorrow...) that was SO yummy
- some serious thought given to getting a pet...a cat?! Who would have guessed?!
- and finally, today...a quick trip to Fredericksburg for peaches, a parade, and pie. Because, after all...P.S. For anyone who is wondering, there IS an IMCDA 2010 race report in me somewhere...hopefully it will be put down on blog paper this week. I just needed a little distance/perspective to get my thoughts in order...poor readers, you might have preferred my jumbled, abbreviated thoughts! I'll warn you before I post and you can skip at will!

welcome to the world...

...Fisher Davis Works - the wonderful little baby boy of my friends Kimberly and John. He's adorable, sweet, and, well, downright perfect as far as I can tell. Of course, I had the pleasure of holding him (actually while he was crying but he quieted down) for just a few moments and then left him to mom and dad...he might not be so perfect at 3 a.m. when he cries wanting more food! SO happy for Kimberly and John...what a lucky, lucky boy Fisher is - he's got two wise, loving, and devoted parents. So glad I was back from Idaho so I could see him on his first day in this world...can't wait to watch him grow up! We love you already, Fisher.

friday quotation

He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life.
~Muhammad Ali

I read this quotation before I left for CDA.
I honestly forgot about this quotation while I was in CDA.
Or so I thought.
Because now it's reminding me of a conversation I had with a woman on the run course. I was finishing up my last loop, grateful to be headed "home", and I asked her if she was finishing, too. She replied, "No. I still have one more loop to go. And I think I'm about to get pulled off the course." I looked at her and said, "Well, don't take yourself off the course. Wait until they come and get you." She said, "Oh, they are going to have to drag me off the course kicking and screaming." I laughed and said, "That's the spirit. You know, at least you got out here and tried." She didn't miss a beat and said, "Oh, I made it 80 more miles than I ever thought I would so I'm actually pretty happy." I paused for a minute and said, "Well, then congratulations. You know most people don't even have the courage to start. But you did, and really, you deserve a medal for that." She smiled warmly and said, "Thanks. I never thought of it that way." And with a "Good luck" I trotted off...a little more inspired to finish. In a way for her and for me.
Funny, as I write this, I think that is the point at which I was really able to pick up my pace and finish in a strong way. For her. For everyone back home. For everyone at camp and around the country who was watching for me. And, yes, for me, too. But I needed something bigger than myself at that point to finish - it was too easy to let myself off the hook in that moment, even though I knew I'd have a tough time forgiving myself if I did.
But somewhere between miles 20 and 21, that woman who probably didn't get to finish reminded me that sometimes the victory is just in having tried. Too often I (we?) don't do things because we fear that we might fail. So instead of seeing what we might be able to do (in all aspects of our lives), we don't even get started. I wonder how much I've missed in this world because I didn't take that first step. I hope I don't miss too much more...