A VERY long description of a long day

(It may have takene me longer to write it than it did to do the race!)

3:56- wake up, look at clock, and have that incoherent thought "oh, good, four more minutes to sleep!" Two minutes later, Kim says "Kristen, it's time to get up!" I think I answered "no, we have 2 more minutes to sleep!" Bitch! If I have a bad race today it's cause Kim robbed me of two minutes of sleep! :)

First things first- I ate my first breakfast. I wanted to give my body as much time as possible to get rid of some stuff before I headed to the port-a-potty filled transition area. Didn't work. After a second breakfast (and an attempt in the bathroom) we left the hotel at 5:00 with our Special Needs bags, our swim stuff, and the dry clothes we wanted waiting seventeen hours later. How the heck am I supposed to know what I'll want after I finish this?!

First order of business was to drop our special needs bags in the right box. My race number was 2079, so mine went in the 2050-2100 box. Not rocket science, right? Dropped mine in the wrong box. Thankfully Kim (#2070) was too smart to follow my lead and corrected my mistake. OK, I guess I forgive her for the 2 minutes of lost sleep. Now on to body marking. All these
volunteers are lined up on the side of the road in the dark with big black markers writing your race number on your arms and your shins, and your age on your calf. Kim and I got marked together, but we had somehow managed to lose Alex, I think because at that moment Alex was pinging with nervous energy, and shooting around the area like a pinball. Her path crossed us
again, and we tried to corral her long enough to get the three of us into transition, where we split up.

After taking care of all of our random business (bathrooms, inflating bike tires, adding things to transistion bags) we re-connected to sit down in a grassy area in the middle of transition to wait until they let us out to the beach. This was one of the highlights to my day- it turned into an impromptu team meeting. Somehow the bulk of our 70 member team managed to find their way to the same spot, and we proceeded to wait there together. Everything conceivable was done with the exception of just doing the race, and a calm settled over us, nerves seemingly gone.

The calm before the storm. As soon as we were allowed, Kim and I headed out into the water for a 5 minute warm up swim. Our plan was to scope out a spot toward the outside of the start and do the entire 2.4 mile swim together. Triathlons have a reputation for brutal, violent, washing-machine-spin-cycle starts, and we wanted to try to stay together through that. We've done nearly every workout stroke for stroke side by side, so we knew that if we could stay near each other through the start we could do the race together. It was not difficult to get a spot right in the front- people are pretty good about self-selecting to stay out of the way. No one wants to get run over! We had a few guys come over to ask us what we thought our swim time was going to be. (Apparently it is inconceivable that two giggly girls that are planning to swim together might
be fast enough to need to be at the front, and they were trying to "help us out" by letting us know we might be out of our league.) I like to imagine that one of these guys is the same on that I had to intentionally kick in the head a little later on, but I don't know that for sure.

The cannon went off, and the start itself was actually dreamy (that was the word I thought of during the race). There was such a wide spread of athletes that for the first quarter mile I didn't see anyone even near us. Kim on my right, open lake on my left. Sadly, as each of the 2600 swimmers sighted on the same bouy, the field closed in around us. Where a "typical" triathlon swim start involves the washing machine start, then a thinning out into an easy swim, this was the opposite. The rest of the 2.4 mile swim was violent. Thankfully I was only getting punched from the left, as I had Kim on my right. (well, except for the one time she slugged me in the ear while I was breathing, but I forgave her for that...)

So, I better explain about the guy that I intentionally kicked. He was swimming on my left, his head about even with my shoulder. He could not seem to swim a straight line, and kept swimming into me, then away, then into me again. I made a decision to make him "uncomfortable" so that he would not want to swim near me, so instead of trying to avoid him when he swam into me, I swam into him as well. At one point, as I pulled my arm out of the water for a stroke, I hooked his arm (not intentional). But when I realized that I hooked his arm, I went ahead and took a stroke, rather than allowing him to free his arm. That, apparently, made him uncomfortable, and he stopped dead in his tracks and started to punch me. Like professional boxers do with the boxing bag. To prevent him from grabbing on to me further, I went ahead and kicked at him (not hard) as I swam away. I'm not certain that I made contact with his head (and I was not aiming for his head) but it is likely that it was either his
head or his shoulder. But come on, he was PUNCHING me!

Anyway, an hour and four minutes later, Kim and I emerged together slightly battered, as the 331st and 332nd swimmers (8th and 9th in our age group). Knowing I would not see her again, I wished her luck as we headed into transition.

Transition at an Ironman is cool. First off, there are volunteers called "strippers" (no such luck!) whose job it is to rip off your wetsuit for you (one of the hardest skills to master in the sport of triathlon). You run in, lay down, and two of them grab it and pull it off in a split second (doing it yourself takes 3-5 minutes, and you look retarded and sometimes fall down). Seems like a cool volunteer job until you think about the fact that all 2600 of us pee in the wetsuit at the start. ewwww. Also cool about Iron transition is that there is a changing tent. They sort of assume that you want to fully change clothes and set up a mens and a womens tent to accomodate this. I, of course, ran into the women's tent and stopped immediately at the first chair where I promptly ripped off the shorts I had under the wetsuit, and started to pull on my bike shorts. As I was struggling with them (you can imagine how hard it is to pull on lycra bike shorts when you're wet, right?) I realized the mistake with picking that first chair. I could see every single swimmer as they got their wetsuits stripped, every volunteer in the entire area, and probably every spectator within a block of the transition area. Oh well, so much for the privacy. The transition volunteers were amazing. One volunteer stayed with me, packed away the things I would not need, handed me things in the correct order, dug around looking for my missing cycling glove (never found it), basically anticipated my every need! As I left the tent, two more volunteers were waiting with sunscreen, then pointed me at my bike and out the transition area. Even with the struggles to get the shorts on, and the time spent looking for that glove, I was out of transition in five and a half minutes.

Ah, a 112 mile bike ride. The first 35 miles of the course is relatively flat, running alongside the lake. And fast. It's where you WANT to hammer. I struggled to hear Coach Wayne's voice in my head, telling me to take it easy, get my heartrate down, and just spin these easy miles. There's a LOT of road (and a few BIG hills) ahead of me. An added challenge for me is that I am only an okay cyclist. So all of the really good cyclists that are only okay in the water are now passing me- I must have been passed by 800 people in those first 35 miles. I read a short story by an Ironman athlete with a similar challenge. His trick was to mutter "crap swimmer" at all of them as they passed, reminding himself of his strength in the water. I didn't actually say it out loud, but it did help to remember- these people were behind me for a reason!

At 35 miles, we turned away from the lake and started to climb. The next 8 miles was Richter pass- an 1100 foot climb. The day was starting to warm up- it was now about 10:30, and it would ultimately reach about 93 degrees. A few of our teammates had done the ride up Richter two days before the race, and had assured us all that it was "nothing" compared to what we trained on. While that was true, the hills in the Bay Area are far worse, Ted's statement had left me thinking that there was going to be "nothing" to it! Not true! I cursed poor Ted a few times on that hill. But it was really early in the day, and I found myself still smiling at the top. Plus, now was the fun part! One thing have learned in the past few years is how to take advantage of my "buddha" (that's what I call my extra belly) on the downhill of a bike ride. I go fast. Somewhere on the course I managed to hit a speed of 46 miles per hour, according to my bike computer, and I think it may have been on the back side of Richter pass.

The next 25 miles were flat to rolling, and took us to the famed "out and back". We turned off the road we had been on to go 8 miles to a turn around, then return to where we started and proceed on the same course. It has the tendency to be demoralizing for riders, as you spend an hour "going nowhere". I had mentally steeled myself for this part, expecting it to be the most mentally challenging part of the ride. I actually loved this part! It was the one place I had a chance to see Kim ahead of me (and I did) as well as the rest of my teammates behind me (all gaining on me!). It was like a big party! Plus it was there that I got my Special Needs bag. Funny, I had packed it myself the night before, but somehow it still felt like Christmas morning when they handed it to me!

From the out and back it was one long, steady climb up to Yellow Lake (about 15 miles). In spite of the fact that I do not like to climb (that damn buddha!) this was probably my favorite part of the bike. There were SOO many spectators, all over the road. And it didn't matter who they came out to see, they all cheered for each racer. (and we were climbing, so we're going slow enough to actually talk back and forth). I had the biggest grin on my face the whole time, and so many people commented to me about how happy I looked, and how strong I looked. I just kept saying "thanks for being out here!" to everyone, and they would answer by cheering louder. It was amazing.

I crested Yellow Lake, saw Coach Wayne and a whole bunch of other folks, and started the screaming 15 mile descent back into Penticton. THAT was fun! I was riding back into town on Main Street, and was overcome by emotion. Oh my goodness! I am about to finish the bike ride of my Ironman! I started to get choked up and almost cried a little. Realizing that might lead to a crash in the last 3 miles of the bike, I mustered up the thought "Suck it up, bonehead. You still have a MARATHON to run!" That did it- tears instantly stopped. (though I wanted to cry for another reason!) I finished the bike in 6 hours, 47 minutes and 35 seconds- 92nd in my age group, 1734 overall, averaging 16.5 mph.

Dismounting my bike into Transition 2, I was struck by the fact that I could hardly walk. Oh boy. It's gonna be a long run! The volunteers in T2 were every bit as helpful and amazing as those in T1, so I can't blame them for my slower transition time (8:32). By the time I got out of there, though, I felt okay.

I set off on the 26.2 mile run with a plan. I would run/walk the first 3 miles (5 min run, 2 min walk) then run between water stops and walk through them- they have them about every mile. The first 3 miles I felt pretty good- I didn't even want to walk for 2 whole minutes, even though my legs probably needed it. I compromised, walking only one minute.

Couple of things of note in the first 3 miles. First off, the marathon course is an out and back. A quarter mile out of transition you are running along the finisher chute, past rows of stadium seating, in the opposite direction of the finish. Then you turn around, run practically through the finisher chute, and turn out of town for the next 12 miles. Kind of a tease. No, not kind of. A TOTAL tease. So, here I am, 8 hours and 10 minutes into my race, starting the run, and running past the bleachers in the finisher area. The bleachers are packed. The crowd is going WILD!! I am thinking "man, this is awesome! I mean, the crowds have been great all day, but this is unreal! I'm just starting the run and they are going CRAZY!" Then I get passed by a motorcycle cop. Hmm. That's wierd. Oh, wait. Then I get passed by a Subaru (race sponsor). Why's there a car on the course?! Wait, that car has writing all over it...... "Lead Male Athlete". Then I get passed by this guy running..... Oh. So the cheering dies away as he pulls away from me, half a mile from the finish of his race. And I yell out to the crowd "What?! The cheering wasn't for ME?!" And the crowd goes wild again!

After the tease, as I am heading out of town, I see mom. I stopped and hugged her (poor thing. I'm sure I did not smell good at this point...) and chatted for a minute. She told me of all the people calling her to check on me, and calling to tell her where I was on the course. "Brad just called to say you are done with the bike!" Yup. I am! I was awesome to know that so many people were following along at home! Thanks all!

So, following my plan, I made it to about mile 6 when I got my first calf cramp. What? Realizing that a cramp was probably dehydration and an electrolyte shortage, I started drinking a lot of water and taking my electrolyte pills at an accelerated rate. I had already taken over 50 pills on the bike, and I had 35 more with me. Plus, I started eating pretzels and drinking chicken broth (for the salt) at the water stops. After 2 water stops worth of pretzels, I started to worry about actually eating too much, so then I started taking handfuls of pretzels and sucking them one at a time to get the salt, then spitting out the pretzel. Sorry, town of Penticton, for littering pretzels.... I would also start to run periodically to see if the cramps were gone, and run until I got aonther one. IronTeam teammate Raf came up on me during this phase, and would have been great company, except that his running pace was faster than I was walking, and my walking pace was faster than his walking. So we leap-frogged a bit, and his jokes kept me sane as I plodded through the next 6-8 miles. This was pretty frustrating, because I felt GREAT, other than the cramps, and REALLY wanted to be running!

At about mile 10, I had only 3 electrolyte pills left, and three miles to the turn around where I believed I had more in my Special Needs bag. (turns out I did NOT have any there, and had to rely further on the generousity of teammates who had plenty. I checked my notes later, and apparently never had planned to put any in that bag- a huge oversight!) Teryk, one of our teammates who did Ironman Lake Placid last month and came to support and cheer us on, rode up on his bike. Assessing my situation, he rode off to track down some electrolyte pills courtesy of other teammates. Were it not for Teryk's help, I may never have recovered enough to really run again, and I would have walked the whole marathon. I look upon this as karma coming around- on the bike at the bottom of Richter Pass a teammate of mine rode by and said "I just lost both my water bottles!" Knowing that it was 10 miles uphill to another water stop, I gave him one of mine. Of course, maybe that's why I was dehydrated on the run in the first place.....

Finally, at about mile 14 I started running and no cramp came. I was able to get back into my original plan of running between water stops and walking through them. I amended the plan to allow for walking up big hills as well. I was moving slow, but I was running, and it was steady, and I felt great doing it!

Wayne had promised that the last 10K (6 miles) would be "magical". I even wrote that in my notes from his talk. "magical". Perhaps I set my hopes a little too high, because mile 20-22 were terrible because I felt no magic. My biggest sacrifice of the race happened there as well. It was all I could do to be moving forward, and every water stop I would slow to a walk, and call out what I wanted ("water! ice!"). I did NOT want to have to stop moving to get something, did NOT want to miss what I wanted, and (God Forbid!) did NOT want to have to turn back for something. So about mile 21 I was approaching a water stop, and start to call out for ice. This stop was staffed by two women in their 30s and a small girl, about 4 or 5, named Courtney. As I approached, asking for ice, one of the women says "Courtney, do you have ice?" Courtney did not have a cup of ice ready, so the woman grabbed one and handed it to me. As I was passing, Courtney got hers ready and started to say "I have ice! I have ice! I have ice!" By the time her words penetrated the haze in my brain, I was 3 or 4 steps beyond the table. But I could hear in her voice the excitement of being part of this day, and helping an athlete get to the finish line, and the beginnings of disappointment that I had not taken her ice. By the time my brain processed it, I was 5 or 6 steps away. I turned, walked those 6 steps back, took Courtney's ice, and thanked her. She was so excited. And the mom- I think she started to cry when she thanked me for coming back. I wanted to cry, too. I'm not sure if that was because I clearly had made her day, or if it was over the 12 extra steps.

About a mile later I had another near-crying emotional "I'm about to finish my first Ironman" moment. I thought about how my knee did not hurt at all, how so many people- from the surgeon to our coaching staff, to many of my teammates and friends- had told me that I would not make it here, or that I should not try to push my body to get here this year (all out of love and support), and just how amazing the day had been so far. And once again, as I started to get choked up, I thought "save it. too much energy right now. four more miles and you can cry."

Finally, I was on Main Street, only two miles from the end when I was joined by Mo, another Lake Placid teammate who is here to support. She ran with me into the crowds, yelling at the top of her lungs "LET'S HEAR IT FOR KRISTEN TRUBEY! SHE HAD KNEE SURGERY 4 MONTHS AGO AND IS ABOUT TO FINISH AN IRONMAN!!!" And finally, the crowd went wild for me. Not the lead male athlete, but me! Everyone tells you to savor the finish, because it goes by too fast. That may be true of the last 100 yards, but not the last 2 miles! Those two miles were magical (ahhh, Wayne was right!), truly magical, but they sure did take a long time!

Just before the finisher chute I saw a whole herd of Ironteam folks. One of those people was Karen, who had given the most practical finisher advice of all ("pack a hair brush in your special needs bag so that you get a good finisher photo"). As I started to run by the group, Coach Wayne jumps out to run with me and offer words of wisdom and inspiration. Not realizing he was on my right, I stopped dead in my tracks, turned left to Karen and said "how do I look?" She said "you look GREAT!" I said, "no. I mean, how do I LOOK? For my photo?" She laughed, and said "you look HOT!" I started to run again, and found Wayne looking around, trying to figure out where he lost me.

Not sure what he said, but it inspired me to smile, take it all in, slap the hands of the fans as I ran the chute. As I was finishing my 6:09.35 marathon (111 in my age group, 1711 overall) I remember hearing the announcer talking about me, but I did NOT hear the famous "Kristen Trubey, you are an IRONMAN!".

Shit. Does that mean I have to do it again?!

The day before

Friends and Family- here are my thoughts and recollections about Saturday. Race day info to follow shortly (give it another day. I've made it through the swim so far.....)


Saturday morning was spent finalizing my Transition bags, then dropping them and my bike off at the transition area. Next, off to the "forced rest" of a Team in Training brunch. Forced rest because after the coaches and honorees spoke, they had "open mike". Are you kidding? Open mike for a room of 70 nervous, emotional athletes and their families?! It took hours. I think it might have gone on longer than my marathon the next day. Don't get me wrong, it was emotional and touching, and a great opportunity for people to thank those that had supported them, and share inspiration. It was quite nice. However, sitting still for three and a half hours has never been a strong suit of mine in any case, let alone the day before a big event. I found it challenging. I think my Attention Deficit Disorder mother did as well, as I imagine it is harder to sit through when you know none of the personalities and don't get most of the references.

When the lunch was over we headed back to the room, where I quickly packed my Special Needs bags. These bags are available to you at mile 75 on the bike, and mile 13 on the run, and you can put whatever you want in them. So necessities like more gu, potatoes and electrolyte pills (salt tables), plus things like sunscreen and chamois butter, and finally some random things like potato chips and circus animal cookies, because you never know what you will feel like eating by that point.

As an aside- when I got to Special Needs on the bike I was rooting through the bag, and was all excited to eat the circus animals. I opened the plastic container they were in to find them melted and sticky, making them significantly less appealing. As I tossed that aside, the volunteer who was there helping me asked (a bit shocked, I think) "who puts pink and white cookies in their special needs bag?!" I didn't want to take the time to explain that they really were there as a
reminder of the Wildflower Half Ironman that we did as part of our training where Skeeter had them at the top of Nasty Grade for me. Or the 70 mile ride at Berryessa (my first ride with the Team post surgery and probably the day that I realized that I really might be able to recover in time to do this silly race) where I ate them before I started. They weren't to eat (though I would certainly eat them). Rather, their purpose was to remind me of all of the crazy training I had
done to prepare for this day in the event that I was having a tough day. But that seemed like a lot of detail to go into on the side of the road at mile 75.

Anyway, back to Saturday. Mom, gracious and wonderful supporter that she is, was kind enough to give up her suite to the athletes (me, Kim, Alex and Skeeter) so that we could cook ourselves dinner and relax. She went out to eat with Alex's mom. I know that there is nothing she would have enjoyed more than hanging out with us while we prepared for the day, but she also
understood that would take our number from four to nine (one parent equals four parents and a husband), and would no longer be relaxing. What she should try to remember is that I am no fun to be around when I am nervous/focused/preparing for some big thing, and that as my mother she is the easy/vulnerable/obvious target for my frustrations. But, alas, her memory fails
her, and she mistakenly thinks it would be fun mother/daughter bonding time.

So the four of us cooked dinner and sat remeniscing about the season over a half a glass of wine each. Well, except Skeeter, who wasn't racing and could have as much wine as she wanted. Alex and Kim and I, though, made half a glass last a LONG time! Probably longer than my swim the next day.....

After dinner we headed down to the team relaxation session which was led by Terry Jordan, a professional hypnotherapist. Terry also happens to be the mother of Emily Jordan, and the wife of Bob Jordan. In the late 90s Emily, who was dying of Leukemia, wrote a letter to the Ironman Hawaii selection committee asking for a spot in the Hawaii Ironman for her father for his birthday. He had entered the random drawing for a spot in the race every year of her life, and she had watched his disappointment every year when he did not get in. Emily's touching letter worked, Bob got a spot in the race, and sadly Emily passed away before she could watch him do the race. She was four. Bob and Emily's story was featured in the race coverage that year (you might recognize the story if you ever watch the Ironman on TV) and Emily went on to be one of the early honorees for IronTeam.

So the relaxation session was in this grassy area in the center of the hotel complex. Not the most relaxing setting, as parents, non-competing friends, and strangers walked by. My mom was not the only one to walk up with her camera to start taking pictures, however she was the one that interfered with my relaxation! Kim's mom appeared a few minutes later, setting Kim off, and on and on. Needless to say- I don't remember much of the relaxation session.

Finally, off to bed around 9:00 to prepare for the 4:00am wake up alarm!

T Minus 33 Hours

It's late, so I am going to make this short. It's Friday night, around 10:30pm. My race starts in 33 and a half hours (for those of you that don't want to do math, that's Sunday at 7:00). I arrived in Penticton yesterday afternoon, luckily for me in the rental mini-van with Alex and Skeeter and Ale's mom. Lucky because the team bus had an hour and a half delay trying to leave the airport. Apparently a limo broke down right in front of the bus, and the bus could not pull around them. So they sat at the curb at the airoport for a while, with Coach Wayne out yelling at the airport officials. Word on the street is that around the time he was offering to have his athletes get off the bus to move the limo out of the way, said aiport officials were threatening to have him arrested. As much fun as that all sounds to watch, I am happy to say that I missed it. And even that is nothing compared to the travel woes of our Lake Placid teammates. If you haven't heard that story, remind me later and I'll tell you!

So, anyway, today was the day to register for the race, and get in a quick swim and bike. Mom graciously offered over breakfast to go to the grocery to get a few things. Knowing how long our list already was, I kept saying "are you sure??" to which she responded, "of course, just make a list!" So I pulled out our list (five anal triathletes all trying to get their perfect pre-race meals in). It filled a sheet of paper. Mom kinda gasped, and the words that popped out of her mouth were "we're only here for 5 days!" So while we registered and swam she headed off to the store.

Registration was great. Very fast and efficient, with just amazingly nice people. It is so cool how the local people all get so into this event, whether or not they are athletic, or know any athletes or anything. When the clock radio went off this morning it was a "race news" report being broadcast. Mom had gotten here a day before me and met up with some locals for a bridge game. They all excitedly asked her my race number so that they could cheer for me. (she, of course, did not know it, so it's not likely that they will actually cheer for me.) At registration, the volunteer who checked me in was a 50-something year old woman named Mary. After walking me through everything I needed to know, she said "now I'm usually right at mile 9 on the run, so I'll be looking for you there!" So sweet. There are 2548 athletes doing the race Sunday, and Mary probably registered over a hundred of us. I'm sure she told each of us the same thing, so she won't remember me. But it gives me something to look forward to at mile 9!

They also weigh you at registration. In the event there is a medical emergency, they want to be able to compare my weight so that they know if I am dehydrated. So, I stepped on the scale, and the woman there looked at the scale, looked up at me quizzically and said "you don't weigh (insert large number) pounds!" I responded "actually, I do". So she hands me my sheet and sends me to the guy who writes down my weight. I tell him the number (subtracting 2 vanity pounds, of course) and he says "by this time next year, I want you at (insert large number minus 25) pounds." gee, thanks. He was trying to be nice, but ouch.

We went to the pre-race carbo load dinner and athlete meeting this evening. A few videos, a few speakers, some info about the race (like they have increased the number of people out looking for tacks in the road on the bike course?? apparently there have been some situations in past years where a few of the locals are expressing that they aren't interested in the race being here.....)

Last Coached Workout

Our last official, organized practice of the season was today. The next time I see most of my teammates will be when I meet them at the airport on Thursday morning.

We met at Fort Mason in San Francisco for the three phase workout- first, we handed over our bikes to Tri Bike Transport, the company that will take them to Penticton. It was kind of funny to watch everyone on the team tentatively moving toward the truck that would take the bikes away, almost a little afraid to hand over their baby. Progress was slow, but I can tell you that when I reached the front of the line it was over way too fast! I was giving my name, paying for the extra insurance, handing over the gear bag that I sent along with it, and all of a sudden I realized that she was gone! My bike had disappeared around the corner of the truck, and I didn't even get to say good-bye! The next time I see "Betty" (my bike and I have grown close...) we'll be in another country!

The gear bag, incidentally, was the cause of most of my stress this past week. It felt alot like needing to be ready to pack, and I was just not there! So my Saturday night was spent putting things in the bag, writing down what things I put in there (God forbid I freak out later in the week because I can't find my Gu flask!) and weighing the bag to make sure it was under (or not too far over...) the 25lb limit. I would have to schlepp it into the bathroom and weigh myself holding the bag, then carry it out to add or remove things, over and over.

Phase two of practice was a Q&A info meeting with the coaches. Every athlete on the team has, in the past two weeks, nervously read every single snippit of information available on ironman.ca and ironteam.net, as well as countless emails from coaches and TNT staff, and eveny probably searched the web for the race reports of random strangers that have done this race in the past. (I know that I have done this, and I am far less information hungry than many of my teammates!) So, really, there were no questions that we did not already know the answers to. So the Q&A went like this:

Athlete: "So, how exactly do I go about the process of dotting all of the "I"s and crossing each "T"??

(at this point, every other athlete in the room- about 50- starts to whisper to the person next to them about how THEY cross t's and dot i's, and/or giggle nervously about the T-crossing process, making it impossible to actually hear the poor patient coach say something like:)

Coach: Generally, I like to take a blue pen-- you can use black, too, but I prefer blue- and hold it in my right hand. Some choose to use their left hand, and that is okay, but the right works better for me. Then I will........

Fortunately, after about an hour and a half our room rental was over and we were forced to conclude phase 2. (I may sound contemptuous of this process, but please don't mis-understand- I was sitting alongside my teammates taking notes on I-dotting as though I had never dotted an I in my life.)

Phase 3 was a nice 7.5 mile run to burn up some of that nervous energy. As you do during taper, I felt tired and sluggish during the run. I would fluctuate between worrying about the run and telling myself that this is what taper is all about. (I never worry about it when I feel sluggish during a swim, and rarely with a bike, but boy do I stress about it with running!)

We finished the workout with a lot of nervous "see you Thursday!"s and headed on our way. Oh, and my favorite- "hey, Kim-- what are you doing next weekend?" "oh, I don't know. maybe I'll do an Ironman..."

Emotions

They say you get a little emotional in the last months of Ironman training. Family and friends claim to witness mood swings ranging from tearing up and crying over nothing, to getting pissed and yelling about stupid little things (though we athletes are all convinced that they are just imagining it). I witnessed the beginning of a spat between Kim and her husband over the raspberry flavored hammer gel (the perils of a two athlete family) as well as a tiff between Skeeter and Alex about the best lane on the Bay Bridge to drive in. Thankfully, both couples maintained composure enough to hold the real fighting til I was gone. I have watched teammates get all sentimental over our last track workout, our last long bike ride, our last short bike ride, our last practice before people leave for Lake Placid, our first practice after they got back from Lake Placid, and on and on and on.

I, of course, am above all that. Yessir! I flash back to Tom Hanks in that movie about the women's pro baseball team "A League of Their Own" when one of the players starts crying. He sputters incredulously "There's no crying in baseball!" Yup, no crying in Ironman for me!

Just like there would be no ice baths for me. Geez this is rediculous. This morning Kim and I got to the pool for what might be the shortest swim workout in history (took about 20 minutes). The two best lifeguards there remember us and start to move folks around in the pool so that we can swim together, as they have been doing for the last few months. And, BAM!, there it is. The welling up of the eyes as I imagine the month of September with no Kim-and-me-going-to-Koret-to-swim.

What the heck was that?! It's not even an isolated incident. I gt my bike back from the shop (pre-race tune up) and went out for a spin by myself. Felt great, got all excited about the race, then, POW!, it's there again. Race numbers publicized the other day (mine's 2079), SPLAT!, happens again. Kim and I are swimming Trans-Tahoe, side by side, and I start to flash back through all of the swims we've done together and, KA-POW!, the tears well. (had to put an end to that one real quick, the goggles were getting full!) I was running at Tahoe, thinking how lucky I am to be out there, actually running, not just running but running 20 miles! a few months after surgery.......

The list goes on. I have to quit this soon! Or I am going to turn into some sort of sentimental, sappy girl or something! Sheesh. I thought I was just signing up to do a triathlon.

Family

Wow, I have a lot of catching up to do. I have had so many post ideas running through my head in the past weeks.... It's time to get some of them down. Watch this space- I may get a few of them up today!

Just after my last post I went to NC for 6 days for a family reunion. I was a bit anxious about maintaining my training during the trip. Not because it is hard to train during travel, but because of what my family reunions are usually like.

We've been doing them every other year since before I was born. My mom is one of 6 kids, and the reunion consists of the six of them, their spouses, their kids and the kids spouses, and all the kids' kids. Upwards of 40 people, though this year I think we capped at about 25. We rent a few houses at the beach, and then we alternately eat, hang out on the beach, eat, nap, eat, maybe go find a waterslide, and then eat some more. Now that my generation are all "adults" we cap off the evenings by drinking publicly (we used to have to sneak off with our parents' beer) and playing cards. All in all a great week, that normally results in 10 pounds gained. Notice exercise was not listed, and I assure you that the eating is rarely healthy.

Not to mention we are talking about a week in a place that, while beautiful, rivals hell for high tempatures in the summer. And, my GOD the humidity! Two years ago one of my cousins and I decided to go for a walk on the local bike path at about 6:00pm. You know, a fitness walk. I even toyed with the idea of running for a bit. We made it about 500 yards down the path before we had completely melted into our shoes. We turned around and went back home for a pre-dinner cocktail.

Going into it this year, I knew that the key to success would be the early morning wake up. Exercise at 6:00am when the rest of the family is asleep, and it's only 180 degrees with 3000% humidity. But I also had my reputation to uphold. My brother Brad and I rival each other as the last to go to bed every night, and I could certainly not let that slide! It was probably the hardest week of my training! Not because of the workouts- technically it was a "recovery" week. Rather, because I was living on no sleep! To bed around 2:00, and trying to rise at 6:00. Plus playing with my nephews and cousins during the day.

The coolest part about it, though, was the amazing support that I got from my family while I was there. The people in my family range from not athletic at all to fairly active, with maybe a few more to the non-athletic end of the spectrum. The active ones do things like play ultimate frisbee and tennis to ride horses. Among the 25 people who were there maybe two have ever done a running road race, and probably nothing longer than a 10K.

So when I got up at 6:00am on morning one for a 10 mile run, I was ecstatic to find my cousin in law Derrick lacing up his running shoes! He was in for 5 of my 10 miles, he said. It was perfect- he's a much faster runner than I (along with anyone else in the world that actually owns running shoes...) but hasn't run in a while, so we had a nice pace going. We did an out and back along the bike path and road, and had a great chat. I kept waiting for him to turn around (I think I even pointed out how far we'd gone a few times) but he stuck with me til the 5 mile turn around point. At one point on the return we passed a cop who was parked on the side clocking cars' speed, and Derrick yelled to him "how fast are we going, officer?!" Really great to have the company.

As we reached the last turn, about a mile from home, Derrick finally had to start walking. But I had a running partner for 9 miles! (he struggled with stairs for the next 2 days, and didn't offer to do any more runs with me, but that was okay!).

After the 10 mile run, I set off on the rental bike that I had picked up from a triathlon shop for the week. A college buddy, Donald, had left his house at 4:00am and driven down to do a 75 mile ride with me. We set out, but ended up doing only 40. I hated the bike because it wasn't mine, and I was uncomfortable on it.

The week persisted like that- I would find someone to do a short recovery run with me, or the family would drop me off the boat to do a swim. In making plans they were ever aware of my need to go train-- "will you have enough time to do your ride if we get back at 4:00?" It was great to have the support.

The culmination, though, was one evening late in the week. I had missed the morning workout (sleep had finally gotten the best of me) and had not gotten the bike ride in during the day (waterslide park with the kids took precedence). I finished stuffing myself at dinner, and sat there thinking "what could I do to salvage this day?" Finally, I turned to my sister in law Laura and said "I'm going for a swim. I'll swim parallel to the shore, toward the pier." She's a mom, and she worried a little about that (I think she even asked if I has waited 30 minutes since I ate) so she decided to walk along.

As I got ready, she talked to cousin Amy, who decided to come too. The three of us headed to the beach, and I dove out into the waves and started swimming. Every time I breathed to the left, I would see one or both of them, walking slowly alongside me. All of a sudden, about 10 minutes into the swim I noticed a small red-headed child. Could that be Mackenzie, Amy's daughter? Then I relaized that Benjamin and Jacob, my nephews, were there as well. Wait... is that Aunt Carolyn? By the time I came out of the water after about 40 minutes the entire family was beside me on the beach. It was spectacular. I got a little teary (though I hid that and blamed it on the salt water). All 25 members of my family came to support my training in whatever way they could. Amazingly heart warming.

Right up until Benjamin (my 5 year old nephew) came up to me, tapped me on the leg and said "Dad said to tell you that you have 10 more minutes to go."

Am I..... hard core? gasp!

I just re-read my last post- the one about my first ice bath, where I describe Jenny as "hard core" and talk about how only the "hard core" would take ice baths. I've become a bit of an ice bath junkie. I've taken four now. In a week! And I've progressed from one bag of ice to two or three, and sometimes I even do it without the sweatshirt. I ate tacos while in the ice bath the other day to save time! I took one today after the run I did, and I am thinking about taking another one now! Somebody help me! I need an intervention! I now can't imagine a long bike or run without an ice bath.

I went with Alex and Lydia up to Alex and Skeeter's place on the Russian River for the weekend. The schedule called for a 75 mile bike ride on Saturday and a 16 mile run today. My amended run schedule was (hand written on the schedule by Taylor):

"goal 12-13 miles :) Bonus :) if reach 16 miles. :) :) :) Yahoo!"

Saturday was a beautiful day for a ride (but HOT!). We headed off around 8:30 or 9:00 (late start for a hot day) and about four and a half hours later returned home with 69.8 miles done. Crap. See, as we were heading back toward the house at the end of the loop, I was realizing we were going to come up a little short of the 75. I knew that both Alex and Lydia would be okay with that, but for the past 6 weeks I've been feeling like I had a lot of catching up to do. I can't possibly "catch up" and be ready if I am cutting rides short, can I? So I had negotiated in my head that if we went anything over 70 miles (even 70.01) that I would call it a day. Anything under 70 (like, oh say 69.8...) and I would add on the miles to bring it to 75.

Stupidly, I had told Alex this, so off I headed to pick up 6 more miles.

Then (of course) I took an ice bath (ahhh.....) and we headed to the store. Picked up some stuff to grill for dinner, watched the World Cup, had great conversation, good wine, slept, and got up this morning to do the run. My knee had been hurting enough all weekend that I had been limping- pretty much since Wednesday's run- and I thought for sure it would hurt on the run. So I half-heartedly prepared for a long run, knowing that I has about a mile of running in me. Surprisingly, I headed out on the run, and it felt pretty good. So I kept going.

I had a 13.5 mile out-and-back run planned that took me to and through a redwood grove (stunning). I was feeling good enough that I started to strategize how to pick up three extra miles. I wanted those "bonus" smiley-faces that he had written on my schedule. At about 11 miles Alex appeared to run me in (yay!). Having told her about the smiley-faces, as we approached the house I said to her "there's really no reason to stop other than 'my knee hurts' is there?" She confirmed that there was not. I scanned my knee for pain (kinda hoping there was some). Nope. Dropped Alex at the house and kept going.

The house is in a neighborhood that is on a small loop. The entire loop is about 1.2 or 1.3 miles, so to get 16 I would need to run it twice. The first loop was easy- I was on the high of having decided to keep running, and working on steeling myself to run past the house again. I did a good job- passing the house was easy. What I had not prepared myself for was the mile after I passed the house. It was terrible! One crushing thought occured about halfway through that loop- on race day there are TEN MORE MILES! That was the hardest finish to a workout I have had all season.

But finish I did, and without walking a step. Not because I am hard core, though, but because my knee hurts to walk, remember?!

In the car on the way back to the city, Alex pretty much told me that I am hard core. She used the word "aggro" as in "aggressive about training" which we have been using to playfully tease Kim all season. Kim would never stop at 69.9 miles, or at 13.5. I have spent the season pointing out how aggro Kim is, in the hopes that no one would notice that I am too. (trying to keep up my laid back, relaxed image....) Well, the gig is up. With Kim not able to join us for the weekend it was only me. Alex went so far as to say she wasn't sure who was more aggro- me or Kim.

I think I'll call Kim and tell her that. See if she gets all aggro and does an extra workout or something. :)