The Day I Bought a Wetsuit Instead of a Vacuum

How do I hate thee?  Let me count the ways...

Tufts of black dog hair had stubbornly lodged themselves in my living room carpet.  As if that wasn't enough, sand and dirt had left a gritty texture over every square inch of my hardwood floors.  This self-proclaimed neat-freak literally has to dust off her feet before climbing into bed each evening.

When my dad visited last year, he got himself all worked up using my #2 Consumer Reports-rated vacuum.  "Jew need a Dyson, mija. This thing is a piece of shit."  Next thing I know, he's ordered me a Dyson from E-Bay.  When it arrived, I was thrilled.  My life will have not only more suction but will require zero vacuum bags!  I later discovered, after I donated my #2 Consumer Reports-rated vacuum, mind you, that my Dyson was missing all the essential attachments.  

With a shedding a dog and active outdoorsy twin daughters, I NEED a decent vacuum.  Enough of this #2 Consumer Reports rated and half-assed Dyson bullshit!  Hubs just bought himself a fucking flame thrower for Pete's Sake.  He'll use this monstrosity at most three times a year.  I use my vacuum daily, (well at least weekly... most of the time anyway).  I deserved the BEST vacuum that money could buy. 

Days went by...  I couldn't bring myself to lugging out my faulty Dyson.  A week passed...  the floors were without a doubt in the worst state of neglect ever.  Oddly, they didn't appear to be bothering anyone else in the family.  I continued dusting off my feet each evening before collapsing into bed.  Sure my family was living in squalor, but I had a 70.3 training plan.  I was exhausted from work and training that the last thing I wanted to do  was tackle the floors with a lame vacuum.  I vowed not to vacuum until I had my well-deserved new vacuum!  The weekend finally rolled around.  I was going to hit up the vacuum store in search of a new life-changing household appliance.  I had an open water swim/bike brick to complete first though.  The vacuum and the squalid living conditions would have to wait.

Off to the lake my family and I went.  My girls have declared the lake their new favorite place.  They would float alongside me as I attempted to swim 1.2 miles.  It was my second time swimming open water in a wetsuit.  My nerves had died down.  I didn't feel I was engaging in risky behavior.  My plan was to stay nice and calm, keep my strokes long and languid, breathe, breathe, breathe and cover the distance without breaks.  I just needed to get through the swim at my A-race of the year, Boise 70.3.  It would be my first half Ironman and would help me decided if  I had balls to attempt a full Ironman.

I had such a grand time swimming in the lake.  Nestled within the protective, buoyant layer of my rented wetsuit, I easily swam my distance.  As I had hoped, I was relaxed, efficient, confident. I didn't weave all over the place or drink the lake water. this time.  I was learning to love lake swimming in Oregon.  I could see myself doing a lot more of it in the future, but I would have to have my own wetsuit, not just a rented or borrowed one.  These babies don't come cheap though and what I really needed was a vacuum.  It just wasn't possible for me to have both. 

The new vacuum was a far more practical way to spend my money.   Unlike a wetsuit, it was something I would use on a weekly basis.  I thought of my ghetto Dyson collecting dust in the closet.  Then considered a new wetsuit.  Was the vacuum really that bad? It mostly worked and got the job done.  Attachments are over-rated anyway, right?  If I had my own wetsuit, I could swim whenever I wanted.  Renting and borrowing is impractical not to mention expensive.  My own wetsuit was an investment that would pay for itself after only six or seven swims. 

Vacuum.  Wetsuit.  Vacuum? Wetsuit? What was a multi-sport momma to do?  WETSUIT!  Yes, I bought the wetsuit.  Today was the day I bought a wetsuit instead of a vacuum cleaner.

Scratch and Sniff sticker: scent of neoprene

My First Open Water Swim

It was the morning of my first open water swim.  I woke up so nervous I thought I was going to throw up.  Boats!  Would they see me?  I tried to keep gruesome images of me being caught in the blades of a boat's propeller at bay.  Those images were only to be replaced with those of a drunk boat operator mowing me down.  It was Mother's Day for godsake!  My whole family was going with me to the lake to support me for my first open water swim.  Please don't let me die before their very eyes.

 Once we got to the lake I saw that the swimming portion was clearly divided from the boating section with a line and buoys.  Whew.  One less thing to worry about.  One length of the section that I would swim was three tenths of mile.  It looked like a ridiculously long ways to swim.   It would take me five lengths to cover 1.2 miles, the distance of my race.  Every single scary blog post, chapter of a book or excerpt from a movie haunted my thoughts.  My daughter, bless her heart asked on the way to the lake, if there were sharks.  Her sister, apparently unsatisfied with her father's negative response, asked how about alligators?  Nope, none of those either.  The water might be contaminated with Giardia though!  Yikes, please don't let me contract giardia.  Note to self: Keep. Mouth. Closed.

The lake was packed with swimmers, boaters, picnickers and folks of all kinds, none of whom happened to be wearing a full wetsuit.  My saving grace was a running friend, who also happens to be a kick ass swimmer, would be out swimming with me.  I ever so carefully, squeezed myself into my rented wetsuit feeling like biggest rookie ever.  Why do I always have to be the greenie asking the dumb questions and experiencing something new for the first time, I complained to my husband.  I complain when I'm nervous.  My hubs has a great coping mechanism for such instances.  He lets my words go in one ear and out the other without appearing to be disinterested or unsympathetic.  He's a real gem, that one.

We were all suited up.  I kept hearing "How I Met Your Mother" character Barney Stinson say "Suit up!"  I of course changed the phrase to "Wet suit up!"  God, I'm a nerd.  I offered another prayer before slipping into the water.  Please don't let me drown on Mother's Day in front of my family and hordes of people enjoying this amazingly sunny warm day at the lake.

I've always been a water lubber.  Nonetheless I'm one of those highly annoying folks that enters the water slowly gasping and shivering every painful inch of the way.  In my wetsuit, only my hands, feet, neck and head were exposed to the elements.  The rest of me was protected by a lovely buoyant layer of neoprene.  The water felt lovely.  I was still nervous as hell.  There was no backing out now.  I had paid my race entry, reserved a hotel, taken the time off work and trained for 16 weeks for this thing.  I was ready for the bike.  I was more than ready for the run.  The only thing I had left to conquer was the open water.  Today was the day.  I slinked deeper and deeper into the water.  The day before I had been told that I would need to 'burp" my wetsuit.  Huh?  Let a little cold water in at the neck so that it filled up any air pockets that might be trapped in the wetsuit.  I did just that.  Brrrr!

Next thing I knew, my feet were no longer touching the bottom of the lake.  It was time to put my face in the water and swim.  I did just that.  I was pleasantly surprised at how warm and buoyant I was in my wetsuit.  I swam scared that first length.  I couldn't see under the water.  I couldn't control my breathing.  I quickly tired.  With all the boat action, sighting was difficult and swimming in a straight line seemed damn near impossible.  I managed to get a mouthful of water which much to my horror I ended up swallowing rather than spitting out.  Giardia?!  Would I spend the rest of my Mother's Day sicker than a dog?  I suddenly feel queasy. Shut up! Stop it brain. I'm swimming here!

As much as possible, I kept my eye on the graceful swimming of my swim mate.  It was reassuring to have her close by.  While she could swim much faster than me, she stuck with me and kept a watchful eye over me.  I stopped several times testing out the suit, resting and regaining my bearings.  I thought I would never get across the first length.  I was thrilled when I finally did and felt the reassuring solid ground under my feet.

Could I possibly swim back across?  I wasn't entirely convinced, but I tried anyway.  This time I got light headed and dizzy.  It was quite disorienting.  I must have appeared like a drunken swimmer swerving all over the place.  I plodded on.  I took fewer breaks this time.  Once I got my mind to calm down and let go of my fear, things got easier.  Nothing bad was going to happen to me.  It is just water.  I can swim.  I could always flip over and swim on my back if things got hairy out there.  I was OK.  By my third length, I relaxed enough to find a more efficient, sustainable swim stroke.  I was starting to have fun now that I wasn't flailing around wildly and gasping for breath.  How nice it was to be swimming under the blue skies on a sunny day in a lake!  My third length felt good.  I was tired though.  I decided to end the day on a high note rather than attempt my final length.

Perhaps my swimming 1.2 miles in lake wasn't such a crazy idea after all.  If I got through that portion of the triathlon, the rest would just be gravy.  Being the overly-eager trainee that I am, I committed to swimming in the open water as often as I possibly could.  I would get my bearings and build my confidence in the warmish waters of Fern Ridge Reservoir before moving into the snow melted lakes on the outskirts of Lane County. 

5 Weeks until Boise 70.3!

Whew! I don't think I've EVER logged so many hours or expended so much energy.  Last week, I hit all my planned workouts except for a 2200 endurance swim.  This came to a grand total of 13.5 hours.  I found myself hungrier, crabbier and more focused and driven than ever.  I had to be super creative to get it all in around my work schedule, hubs' workout schedule and kids' soccer practice and games.  Hubs and I even managed to squeeze a lovely date afternoon of ice cream, cribbage in the park, dinner out and hot tub soak while the kiddos were at an extended play date.

Thankfully, after three weeks in the "build-phase", I get a slightly easier week to recover.  I'm planning on focusing on sleep and diet this week.  I have not been getting enough sleep and have been eating like crappola because I've been so stinkin' busy. I can hardly believe that after this week, I have three weeks of building, a week of tapering and then it's race day!

It is time to take care of logistics:
1.  Find and try out a wetsuit.  I've never even done and open water swim before!
2.  Get bike checked over and blessed by my buddies at Life Cycle.
3.  Figure out what I will wear race day.  Try these clothes/gear out.
4.  Practice using my watch's multi-sport function.
5.  Read over the gazillion page athlete booklet.

I have really, really, really missed my family over the weekends when my training volume is at it's peak.  I reconfigured my schedule so that my off day is Sunday so I can spend more time with them.

This week's workouts:
Monday:  Bike 45 min w/ 5X2 min hard efforts

Tuesday:  AM 1300 swim with main set of 6X75 sprints
                PM: 5 mile run (2 mi w/u, 1 mile at 10K pace, 2 mi easy)

Wednesday:  Bike 40 min moderate + 10 mins hard

Thursday:  AM 1300 swim w/ main set 200-300 pace
                 PM:  5 mile run with my speed group

Friday:  Long ride divided into two chunks.
            5AM 90 mins w/ spin class
           11:30: 2 hour ride + 15 minute ride after work before picking girls up from school.

Saturday:  AM 2000 swim w/ main set of 500 @ race pace + 12 mile run with last 2 miles at race pace.
                Girls last soccer game!

Sunday: REST.  Be with family for Mother's Day.

It's "Just" a Half

I am a marathoner, dagnabbit! A marathoner who after a debilitating and slowly rehabilitating injury, hasn't run a marathon in two years.  I missed that distance, the disciplined 18-week training plan, the early bedtimes, the carefully laid out clothes and Gu the night before a long run, the camaraderie that resulted from running with folks for hours and hours on end and most of all the rush of emotion that resulted upon crossing the finish line and the pride that followed for months afterward.

Half marathons?  Really?  Why?  I scoffed at the t-shirts and bumper stickers that said "13.1: Half the distance, double the fun".  Fuck that!  I snubbed my nose at the fact that us marathoners had to share our day, our lime light, our course, and spectators with those JUST doing the half.  Dammit, they had no right to the term "marathon".  Each distance had it's own term: there's a 5k, 10k, marathon, ultra marathon and a variety of distances in between.  Why couldn't a half marathon have it's own unique name rather than co-opt one?  I was such a marathon snob.

So what's a marathoner, whose body doesn't allow them to run marathons supposed to do?  I was running, cycling, swimming, yoga-ing, and weight lifting.  I didn't have any goals.  I was coasting along wondering what I should be doing.  What was my body was capable of doing after this eight month long injury-rehab induced hiatus?  I was pissed as hell that I would miss out on my annual marathon not one, but two years in a row.  Fuck it, if I couldn't run longer, I'd at least run faster.  

Over the last year, I lost ten to twelve pounds.  This along with my new running partners resulted in a spring in my step and a slightly zippier pace.  When I became a "master" (age 40) I decided to be really brave and try working out with the speed group whom I had previous been too intimidated to join.  The first few weeks were humbling.  I had folks ten and twenty years older than me running circles around me.  I was in awe.  I was ready to work.  I wanted to get faster.  I finally believed that myself and speed weren't necessary mutually exclusive.  I set out to discover a new speedier version of me.

Let me remind you that of all the cities for this nine to ten minute miler to live in, I chose "Track-Fucking-Town-USA."  The bell curve for running times here is ridiculously skewed.  I would need to toss away all my preconceived notions of speed, learn not to compare myself with others and to strive for goals that were just within my reach, yet far enough away that I had something to work towards.  After my race drought, I got overly ambitious when I realized I had finally healed.  Before I knew it, I had run in the Hood to Coast relay, cycled a century (my first), ran a half marathon trail run (PRd), raced a 5K (another PR), raced a 25K trail run (another PR!) then registered and started training for a half marathon, a sprint tri and a half ironman.  If I couldn't run a marathon, I'd at least run a shit-load of other races, and run them fast, well faster, anyway.

How exactly was this supposed to happen though?  It was time to kiss my generic Runners World on-line training plans, change my relationship with running and work directly with a coach.  I was just training for a half though.  This only required a ten week training plan, as opposed to an 18 week training plan.  Since I was simultaneously tri-ing, I would only run three days a week and cycle/swim the other three days.  How hard was this going to be?  Half the distance, twice the fun, right?  No, prob.  I got this.... or so I thought.

Shaken Confidence

For the last ten weeks, I had been training with Happy Running's half marathon performance group three times a week.  My three weekly runs were speed, strength and/or endurance focused.  There were no easy runs or recovery runs to which I've grown accustomed in marathon training.  My recovery days were comprised of bikes, swims or bike/swim bricks.  The first six weeks I nailed every workout. Then the weather turned to crap.  I got sick, my motivation dropped, my legs always felt like lead, speed dropped and my confidence plummeted.  Those last couple weeks of training were mentally and physically tough.

I considered scratching the race many times.  My husband had accidentally registered for a 40 mile run on the same day.  We didn't have childcare for us both to run.  It was highly unlikely that I'd accomplish the 1:48 time goal.  This wasn't an "A-Race" for me.  I mainly signed up for this training group and marathon to build up speed to help me out in June at Boise 70.3.  It seemed like the universe was trying to tell me not to run this race.

Over those ten weeks, I loved having a coach and a set training plan that took all the guess work out of my training.  It was fabulous to meet and run with new people who challenged and inspired me. While running alongside these awesome folks, the race became more and more important to me.  I wanted to run it well.  I thought I could, but at the same time, I was scared.  What if I hurt myself?  What if I couldn't finish?  What if I didn't PR?  After my triathlon brain fart the previous weekend, I just couldn't take another disappointment.

The night before the race when I was still on the fence about whether or not I could and should run.  I got a side ache and fatigued legs just running three easy miles at ten to eleven minute pace!  What was I thinking?!  I was supposed to maintain an 8:14 pace for THIRTEEN miles?!  I know that doesn't sound fast to many of you but that's BLAZING for me!  I am a nine to ten minute miler.  I don't particularly like breaking a sweat or pushing myself to discomfort while running.  How could I suddenly believe that I had changed overnight to an eight-ish minute distance miler?  I had never  felt so insecure going into a race.

Thankfully I had my husband and coach's support.  They had seen me through all my training.  They are experienced and amazing runners whose opinions I highly value.  "You are stronger than you think."  "Fresh legs from two weeks of tapering and race energy will get you through." Thank you!  I had busted my butt training for this thing for the last ten weeks, why not another two hours or so to run the darn thing?  If I sucked, I sucked and life would go on.  If they were right, my training paid off and I had a good race, all the better! I decided to listen to my heart and give it a try.

My Blond Moment at the Beaver Freezer Sprint Triathlon

I was thrilled to get into the Corvallis Beaver Freezer.  This is the first triathlon of the season in this region.  It holds the bragging rights of being the largest triathlon (with an indoor swim) in the United States! It fills up within the first few hours of registration each year.  It consists of a 500 yard swim, 12 mile bike, 5K run.  Perfect for easing back into tri season.

This would be my third sprint tri.  I knew how these things worked.  I had trained and was ready to "git 'er done".  I had hoped to break 84 minutes.  What I didn't anticipate was the series of unfortunate events that started at 3:15 PM the Friday before the triathlon and continued until the race was well over.  I deleted several drafts that described these pre-race and race glitches.  My posts have come off rather whiney lately.  My melodrama was starting to get on my own nerves.  What a grump I'd become! With so many people facing real challenges; who the heck am I to whine about a couple bumps along my road?  I train and compete for health and for fun.  It's not as if my life or death, mortgage or employment depends on it.  I don't "have to" train or compete but rather I "get to".  It's pretty awesome to engage in this amazing sporty world.

I arrived solo, as my hubs, at the last minute needed to stay at home with a sick kiddo.  When I arrived, I discovered tons of helpful, enthusiastic volunteers.  Parking was super easy, packet pick-up was quick, transition set-up occurred without a hitch.  It was dry and the clouds were clearning.  I chatted with a couple of tri-friends and met some new folks while killing time before my wave started.  My Garmin 310XP was set in multi-sport mode.  I was cool calm and collected.  This was going to be a great day! 

SWIM
The swim was 500 yards, short even by sprint tri standards. I was shooting to swim somewhere between nine and ten minutes.  Once in the water, I never quite found my rhythm.  My breathing was off which negatively impacted my form and efficiency.  It was all work out there.  I forgot to count my laps.  It seemed to take them forever to dunk the kick board in the water.  When they did, they told me to get out of the pool.  Man, was I confused!  A dunked kick board usually indicates one more lap to go.  Disoriented, I climbed out of the pool, neglected to click the lap button on my Garmin, toweled off, slipped on sandals, and ran for what seemed like a quarter of a mile to the transition area.  I was pooped and had two more legs to go!

Official results indicate my swim split was 11:13.  This seems slow to me.  I can't help but wonder if they under-counted my laps.  The women's pool for this year is a long ways away from the timing mat that records the swim split.  So it might be possible that it took me that long to get out of the pool and across the mat.  I still vividly remember eye-balling the pool clock as I climbed out of the water.  It read 8:40.  Did it take me that long to get from the water across the mat?  I'll never know and it's driving me CRAZY! 

T1
After my turbulent swim and lengthy run to transition, I was out of it.  Although things were set up just as I needed them, I put things on in the wrong order and had to try again a second time.  Helmet after shirt! When will I ever learn?!  Geez, just get me on the bike already so I could make up for some lost time.  My T1 time was 4:21. Slow for me.  My other two events I transitioned in less than 2:30.  Was this because I pulled on socks this time, because the pool was so far from the transition or because I was so out of it while getting into my cycling gear?  Likely all of the above. 

BIKE
What a gorgeous day to be out cycling!  Weather's been so wet that I've been cooped up indoors spinning.  It felt great to hit the roads.  I realized a couple miles in that I forgot to click the lap button after the swim, then again after the transition and yet again at the cycle start.  I tried to remedy the problem, but only messed things up further.  I'd have to wing it old-school.  No technology to help me determine and maintain a certain pace.  I'd have to go by feel.  I hunkered in, enjoyed the ride, sucked down a GU and drank some water.  Before I knew it, the ride was over.  12 miles in 45:36.  Nothing to brag about speed-wise, but a sprint-tri bike PR all the same  

T2
Made it through without a hitch in 2:19.

RUN
A mere 5K to run.  My spirits were good. I was hoping to maintain an 8 min/mi pace.  Again, I had no Garmin device to indicate my pace.  I just pushed as hard as I could.  I was supposed to run three loops around the OSU campus.  There was a volunteer at the crossroads.  When I saw him for the third time, I assumed that I was done.  I flew through the finish line feeling like a million bucks and completely satisfied with my performance.  That's three loops, right?  After the finish, I got stretched out and massaged at the free booth.  I never do this when I have my family there.  Highly recommend it!  I also hung out chatting with folks I knew.  I looked at my posted finishing time and age-group placing and was delighted.  It was warm, the sun was out,  I had completed my try without a hitch (or so I thought).  It was time to go home, celebrate and spend the rest of the day with my family. 

I was all aglow for the rest of the day.  Tri high!  Then official race results with splits were posted.  My heart sunk when I saw my swim time.  Then I was utterly baffled when I got to my 5K time.  According to results I averaged sub 6 minute miles.  IMPOSSIBLE!  I can't even sub 6 on one mile! What the heck happened?  I thought and thought, crunched number after number, whined and moaned to my hubs.  Then it came to me!  I had shortened the run course!  Crap, dookie, poop, SHIT!  How could I have done that?!  I had plenty of energy to run the whole thing!  Do over!

Then I did the 20/20 hindsight thing:  If my daughter hadn't been ill, they would have counted my laps and sent me along my way for the final one.  If I hadn't forgotten to operate my Garmin, I would have had a distance measurement and known that I needed one final lap.  Bottom line was that I felt like a fraud.  I couldn't plead "rookie" either.  I had trained and was experienced.  I had messed my race up big time.  Worst of all was that my inaccurate race results were posted for all to see.  I e-mailed the RDs.  They stood by the swim time.  I still wonder about it though.  They said that the run results couldn't be changed.  If I wanted my own unofficial time, I could add a third to my time. 

I beat myself up over it for the rest of the evening and well into the next day.  I was seriously bummed out.  My hubs encouraged me to look at the positives:  I got my tri practice in, got a bike PR, had a good time out on the course and performed as well as I could given the circumstances.  My errors needed to be viewed as opportunities for learning.  It was time to practice using my Garmin's multi-sport function.  I need to understand the directions and course well-ahead of time rather than learn it on the fly.  I need to keep my head on my shoulders.  Triathlons are just as much mental as they are physical.  There's a lot to think about while swimming, transitioning, biking, transitioning and running.  My husband also talked me into being thankful that I learned these lessons at this event rather than at my BIG event of the year.  He's a wise man.  I'm trying to let it go and learn from it.  I think my ultimate lesson is to cut myself some slack, forgive, move on and not take myself quite so seriously.  This is supposed to be fun, right?!

Misery Loves Company

thresh·old  

n.

1. A piece of wood or stone placed beneath a door; a doorsill.

2. An entrance or a doorway.

3. The place or point of beginning; the outset.

4. The point that must be exceeded to begin producing a given effect or result or to elicit a response: a low threshold of pain.

~Free Dictionary by Farlex

What was there to like about tonight's threshold run?

It wasn't the 30 mph wind gusts, the steady rain and grey skies.

Nor was it the cute, fashionable but highly impractical Sporthill hoody I wore. After it's multiple attempts to strangle me, whip me in the the face and act as a sail, I took the darn thing off my body, tied it around my waist and ran in the cold, windy rain in a sports bra. Every little article of clothing and techie tool I was carrying on my person annoyed me.  Bouncing iPod earphone wire, vise-like grip of the Garmin revealing data I didn't care to know about, key in the back pocket of my running capris... I wanted to rip everything off and run naked! 

Don't even get met started on the PBJ that sat in my stomach or the previous night's Hard Core Yoga session that led to lead legs or being on my feet all day teaching my adorable, brilliant, well-behaved first graders.

Perhaps it the challenge of a nine mile run where I was supposed to maintain half marathon pace to 10K pace for 4 miles and then cut down to (*snort*) 5K pace for the final 3 miles? Hells no!

Was in the mind-fuck of running HARD on the four mile loop that I reserve for my short, easy, chatty runs with my running buddies?  Afraid not.

Enough already!  What was it?  Where's that silver lining?  Put on the rose-tinted glasses and tell us Trail Smitten Mom!

It was knowing that I was out there muscling my way through a nine mile weekday evening run with my jolly running team and my savvy coach.  I was not alone.  Coach even ran me in the final third of a mile!  I was able to finish strong rather than in the sniveling state I felt.  Ideal running conditions? Nope, but I had ideal company for this less than optimal run.  The other good thing about this run?  IT ENDED!

Then I hit the gym for a 800 yd swim to make up for how slow I ran.  Lastly, I drank a ReNewAle to cheer myself up.  Tomorrow is a new day.