The weekend was absolutely amazing. I can't even begin to describe the beauty of the place. In a country that is plagued by obiesity and eating disorders, it was such a breath of fresh air to see
thousands of healthy people.
Team in Training is such a great organization. My team alone raised $125,000 and all the teams combined raised $1.6 million! That's nothing to sneeze at, you know? This really is making a difference, and I'm proud to be a part of it.
The trip out there was long and exhausting...we had a 5 hour plane ride, an hour wait, and then a 3 1/2 hour bus trip to get to Lake San Antonio.
Once we got there, we set up our tents and went down to registration to scout out the site and pick up our packets.
Friday was a pretty low key day...we just hung around, got in a quick swim and bike--just to reunite with the water and bike...but mainly just tried to stay out of the sun.
Saturday was the race. I got to the transition area at around 6:30 and quickly set up my stuff...then I had until 9:10 to wait around. Somehow, the time flew by, and before I knew it, it was 9:00, and I had yet to put on my wetsuit. Panic ensued, and I freaked out trying to pull the damn thing on. Coach Kurt calmed me down, said that 10 minutes was plenty of time (meanwhile everyone else with the blue swimcaps on was down by the start line--argh!!)...I finally got down there, just as the wave before mine was going, and I had just enough time to get some water in my wetsuit and get ready to go.
I'm a decent swimmer. I'm used to starting in the front-middle. I started in the second 'row' and took off when the 'bell' rang. I was immediately clawed EVERYWHERE. It took me a couple minutes to realize that I was no longer in Ohio, and that the level was obviously a little higher than what I was used to. So, I chilled out, and just let people pass so that I could swim without guarding my face.
The swim out was completely fine; I felt like I had a decent rhythm going and I thought I was doing well. On the way back though, I somehow couldn't seem to sight properly...I couldn't find any of the bouys, and I was just a mess. I was ALL OVER the freaking lake. I kept trying to just find
people, but that just didn't seem to work. I finally figured out that if I aimed towards the hot air balloon in the transition area, it would help me get back on track. So, the lake was gorgeous, and absolutely the perfect temperature, but my swim felt a little uncomfortable, and I was glad to get out of the water.
Going into this race, I had been petrified of the bike. All people seem to talk about is Nasty Grade, and that elevation chart is just terrifying. But, I must say that I felt okay during the whole thing. I was definitely glad to be done with Nasty Grade when I got to the top, but I never even had to get out of my seat...it wasn't steep at all...just really stupidly long.
I ate the ENTIRE first 40 miles. Really. I was full at some points, but I knew that the last 16 miles were difficult and I wouldn't really be able to eat then...and I have issues with eating on the run...so I tried to get as much nutrition as possible during the first parts of the bike. I stopped around mile 20 to go to the bathroom and ran into someone who was freaking out and said she was going to turn out. I tried to reason with her, saying that if she turned around now, she would have still done 40 miles...you might as well ride 56 at that point, you know? I think I got through to her, but she was definitely panicking a little. The little stop took more time than I wanted (I definitely didn't like all those people passing by while I was off my bike), but it gave me a chance to stretch and eat and grab some gatorade.
I ate Ritz Cheese stuffed crackers, and now I swear by them. They're fatty, have some protien, lots of carbs, but most importantly...they're salty, so they not only replenish your lost salt, but they also force you to drink, whether or not you feel like it...absolutely a great racing food when you don't think you can get down another Gu or Hammer Gel to save your life.
So, the first 40 miles went by uneventfully, and I just tried to get myself mentally ready for that last 16 miles. When Nasty Grade came up, I was ready. I wasn't hungry; I still felt fresh.
I'll be honest here...I kind of thought spinning classes were for chumps. Yeah, they're a good cardio workout, but as far as helping with your biking? I kind of doubted it. But check it out...I suck on the bike. Definitely. Suck. MILLIONS of people passed me. I passed like...5. But. The time that I passed those 5 was up Nasty Grade and the upcoming hills. And you know why? It was because I could just keep spinning my legs fast and never felt like I was having to crank up them. It was a nice feeling. Now if I could just be faster in general...
Once on top of Nasty Grade, the entire world opened up. Mentally, I was there. I could see the finish line already, even though I still had 13.1 miles to run, and another 10 hilly miles to bike. At that point, I knew I could do it. But also, the view from the top of that stupid hill was SO beautiful. You could see the lake down at the bottom; you could see other bikers making their way up the hill, and still others cruising down it...it was just completely amazing. I got chills looking down, and
almost didn't want to summit.
So the next 10 miles were crap. I was slow. I wanted to be off the bike. The remaining hills weren't that bad, but they were still hills, and I was done with hills. At mile 51 or so, we rode back into the campground, and I knew I just had one more little roller and I was done. Coming down Lynch Hill was amazing. I had tears in my eyes and I actually shouted "I don't even care that I have run 13 miles...I DID IT!!"
This ride was beyond beautiful. I'd ride that bike course again. Hell,
I will ride it again. Next year. I'll do it in 3:45 next year...
Then the run. Argh. The first mile, I felt like crap...but that's expected, right? I got to the mile marker, looked at my watch and saw 8:02...yikes. I had no business running that fast when I had 12.1 miles left. I didn't feel like I was running that fast, but I knew I didn't have it in me to keep going at that pace, so I made a noted effort to slow down.
Little did I know, there was definitely no need. At about mile 3, hills started attacking with a vengence. We're not talking about casual hills here; we're talking about freaking roller coasters. I decided not to waste energy on those stupid hills, and just walked up them, but ran when it was either flat or downhill. By mile 4 or so, I realized I was averaging 11 minute miles, and that led to a moment of mental panic. I felt fine physically, but I hadn't ran that slowly in a REALLY long time...and I just couldn't process it.
So, I walked up the next ridiculous hill (basically all of mile 4-5), and then got my head together. I started telling myself to just run 'until the next tree' and then walk to the next, and so on. Mile 6-8 was actually pretty pleasant, and I finally felt like I was finding my running rhythm. Mile 8-9 was around the TNT campsite, and so I was cheered on for the whole mile. It was pretty amazing. I actually started crying when I saw my teammates out there cheering for me. One of them yelled 'You rock', and for some reason I just lost it.
I didn't feel like I rocked. I didn't do anything that special. If I could do it, anyone could do it. I'm not athletically talented. I just put in the miles, and somehow I'm getting somewhere. It's not anything out of the ordinary, but I'm doing it, and that's enough for me.
Mile 9-10 was a long downhill that actually felt really great, but it was an out-and-back, so you could see the people walking back up the whole time you were going down...kind of frustrating. When I got to the bottom, I shouted "Anyone can run a 5K", and I tried my best to run up that last hill. I knew once I got to the top, it would just be one last little incline before the downhill sprint to the finish. I basically ran that last 5K, only walking through the water stops. I didn't run fast, but just made myself keep going, because I just felt like as soon as I started walking again I was going to fall apart mentally.
I finally got to Lynch Hill, and for the second time going down that hill that day, I felt triumph. I passed a few final people, and then sprinted through the shoot to the finish line.
I had a wonderful race. I learned a lot about where I am with each sport. I need to fix the biking thing. Part of it is a head game, but a big part of it is just needing to put more miles in. Running-wise, I'm where I need to be. For France, I'll put in some long, SLOW runs (so I'm not freaked out by slow-minute-per-mile times...but otherwise, I feel great with my running. With swimming, I'm also okay. I just need to keep it up and every thing will be fine. So, my concentration over the next 7 weeks will be LOTS of biking, and just keeping the other 2 sports where they need to be. And oh yeah...I resolve to lift weights at least 2 times a week. Squats. It's all about squats for the bike.
Overall, I was really proud of myself in terms of monitoring my body and what I needed for nutrition. I feel like I've come a long way since the
disasterous Chicago 'marathon'.
Beware: This is totally cheesy and ridiculous, but it's how I feel.
What one man can do, another can do.I'm proof. (A prize to anyone who knows what movie that was from.)
Sunday, I cheered on my Olympic-race teammates, which actually proved to be more tiring than doing the race the previous day. Being a spectator is hard work, I must say.
The trip back was once again long, but luckily uneventful. I'm home now, and trying to get back into the swing of things. For the first time that I can remember, I'm not excited to be back home. I'm in such transition that it's hard to know what exactly home is. I'll figure it out though, and I'm definitely glad to see all of my friends again...Things are going to be changing a lot over the next couple months, so I'm definitely going to take advantage of what I have while I have it...
Meanwhile, I'm excited to get going for Ironman training...I just need my bike to hurry up and get back here!
Oh, and as a postscript...I have the best coach in the world...he found me twice on the bike, and once on the run...and just did an amazing job the whole weekend. I couldn't have done it without him. Thanks, Kurt... (and Happy Birthday!)
And he fell from the top story last night while trying to take it down. The tree had grown into it making it dangerous to use--it's been about 6 years since my sister and I were up there...
me, morning of Day 2...very tired (note the swollen eyes)
Bryce with the tent
Bryce, me, and Kurt...ready to go on Day 2.
I feel like my post from yesterday kind of shafted the whole marathon experience...there has been so much going on lately that it's been hard to really focus on any one thing--in both my writing and my actions...but, the marathon definitely deserves a little more attention.
