Fitness Friday- Tri for Old Glory!

I have to admit, I spent most of our Fourth of July fireworks celebration freaking out about the next day.  I was scheduled to race.  And not just to race, but to race the longest race I have ever done.

Yep, I went Olympic.

Spoiler Alert...I finished.
Thanks, Coach Travis!

 I've done four or five Sprint distance tris in the past, but this year, I really want to do an Olympic distance.  It's a big leap- it's double the distance.  And I was determined.

But nervous, really nervous.

The fact that our Fourth of July festivities meant I would be racing after four (4!) hours of sleep didn't help calm my nerves any.

When I woke up at the unearthly hour of 3:45, I decided that I, first of all, would not think again about how little sleep I had gotten.  Adrenaline would carry me through.  Second, my theme for the day would be, "Race happy."

It's cheesy, I know, but, hey, four hours of sleep!  One should not expect deep philosophical mantras after four hours of sleep.  And there was a reason for the theme.  Racing for me takes more of a mental toll than it does a physical one.  I'm not trying to win, but I still get soooo very nervous!  On the one hand, racing is a lot of fun, but on the other hand, there just seems to be so much riding on one event.  All that training.  All that prep work.  All the hopes for a good day.  I realized that if I focused more on being happy- not comfortable, by any means, but happy- I would do a lot better and give myself a reasonable shot at being the best I could be.

So "Race Happy" it was.  1500 m. swim, 23.5 mile bike, and 10K run- all happy.

As I set up in transition, I made instant Best Friends with several people (no idea of their names- that's how it goes in transition).  The guy next to me- #99- was also doing his first Olympic and he was having similar, "What on earth was I thinking signing up for this?" thoughts.  We assured ourselves that as long as we didn't drown, we'd be fine.

Coach Travis was there with me and several other Paragon Training athletes.  (The rest of the group wisely chose the Sprint option.)  He cautiously recommended a warm up run.  Ummmm, no.  Not today.  I nibbled on my banana and eyed the endless line at the Porta Potties.  So many athletes, so few toilets.

We all herded over to the swim start, and I listened intently to the directions.  Sprinters: 3 orange buoys, then turn around.  Olympics: Orange, orange, orange, green, green, green, then turn.  Okay.  I could do this.  We were told to line up according to swim speed, slower swimmers toward the back.  Another one of my instant best friends- Pink Cap Best Friend- said she swam a 2:30 100 and I said, "Great!  I'll get right behind you."  And at that very instant, I saw Coach Travis descending.  Shoot.  He'd spotted me.  "Get up there and get in the water!  You are not going to stay back here."  So I did.

And into the water I went.  The swim was actually a lot easier than I had imagined, particularly for the first half.  I didn't push it too much, but I tried not to take it too easy.  Orange, orange, orange, then green, (I started trying to do math to figure how many meters I'd covered...didn't work), green, green, and then I swam around the corner and started to head back.  At this point, two things happened: I felt completely disoriented AND I got a cramp in my side.  But I kept going, and I managed to stay on course.  After passing green, green, green again, I saw the orange- I was almost there!  I realized I had quite a bit of juice left, so I set my sights on a group of swimmers ahead of me and caught them and passed them.  Then, I did that once more.  Aaaaannnnddddd... the swim was over!  I didn't drown!  I didn't panic and back stroke!  Coach Travis said it took me 35 minutes.  A tiny bit better than I'd expected.

Orange Cap Best Friend came alongside me and said she was the one who kept hitting me on the swim.  Good to know.  She passed the entrance for transition and I hollered after her, "Wrong way!"  She didn't hear, so I had a random person grab her.  "Thanks!" she said, as we scrambled through transition.  We both got on our bikes and headed out, but she dropped her sunglasses (or something) and I didn't see her again.  The ride was beautiful: farmland and rolling hills (not flat- never believe the race flyer).  Best Friend #99 passed me on the bike and we exchanged encouraging words.  ("We didn't drown!  We haven't fallen!  Woohoo!") We rode up around Martindale, Texas, and I reached back several times to grab my phone out of my pocket to take a picture.  Each time I remembered that I didn't HAVE my phone because I was RACING, not joy-riding, and I would tell myself to get my head in the game.  The bike is my weakest event, but I'm getting stronger!  Slowly but surely.  I averaged 16.4 mph, definitely not fast by cycling standards, but a huge improvement for me.

When I got back from the bike, Travis was nowhere to be seen.  I figured he was busy with the Sprinters.  I pulled on my shoes and headed out on the run.  Apart from melting down and panicking on the swim or flatting out on the bike course, falling apart on the run was my chief fear for this race.  "Run happy, run happy," I told myself as I started running on my wobbly, lead-filled legs.  THEN, I saw Travis.  "I can't believe you're already done with the bike!  You surprised me by at least 10 minutes!"

Great confidence boost to start off the run!  Within about 1/4 of a mile, the side cramp was back with vengeance and I had a matching cramp on the other side.  Lovely.  But, "Run happy!"  I took deep breaths and waited for the cramps to pass.  Or the run to be over.  Either one.

Fortunately, the cramps did pass and I began to find a pace- not too fast, but still running.  I have to say that the weather couldn't have been better.  I had been prepared for 90 plus temps with sun, but it was 10 degrees cooler and overcast.  Not what anyone expected from Texas in July.  I started to count the miles down every time my watch buzzed.

5 more miles.  4 more miles.  3 more miles.  I only walked through the aid stations, and then I tried to walk quickly.  I was doing pretty well, but I knew if stopped at all, I'd be in trouble.  "Run happy."  The run was a loop, so I circled back around for my second 5K.  Coach Travis asked me how I was feeling.  "Happy!" And I really was, even though I was working sooo hard.

I had thought that the 2 loop run might throw me off, but it actually proved helpful.  I knew what was coming and where the aid stations were, so it kept me going for the last few miles.  I kept counting down, and I told myself, as my feet started to both go numb and burn like fire, that the pavement was NOT in fact burning through the soles of my shoes, and that stopping wouldn't make it better.  After mile 4, I realized my pace was dropping ever so slightly, so I determined to push harder.  After another 1/2 mile, I asked myself if I could push any harder.  Nope.  I wasn't collapsing, but I was working about as hard as I could.

One mile left.  I saw Best Friend #99 just ahead of me and he was walking.  "Come on, only a mile left!  Let's go!"  "You go ahead.  I'm done," he said.  "Start running.  I'll let you beat me," I told him.  "Oh, I'm way past that working.  I left my ego at home," he said, but he started running, a little ahead of me.  (No guy is ever past that working, and no triathlete leaves ego at home.)

Me...and #99

We ran toward Travis, who had a camera, and toward the FINISH.  It was a crazy trail scramble for the last little bit, and the finish line was straight up a gravelly hill.  I really was scrambling up it, but I crossed the finish line!  My Garmin had me with a 9:47 pace on the (slightly short) 10K.  (Official race time had me at a 9:07, but I think they listed the distance incorrectly.  The course wasn't quite a full 10K.)

So much steeper than it looks!

I had wanted to finish the race in 3 hours and 20 minutes, but my final time was actually 3 hours, 43 seconds!  20 minutes faster than my goal.  I'm really pleased with the result.  I felt like all of my training and all of the coaching had paid off and I got to see the improvement on race day.  So exciting, and looking forward to the next one.

Texas State Tri

Texas State Tri

It’s that time of year!  Triathlon season is underway, and I had a great time at the Texas State Tri a couple of weeks ago.

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I was lucky enough to be able to catch a ride to San Marcos for this one.  My coach and his girlfriend were heading up, so I didn’t have to drive.  Yay!  (It’s the little things, folks.)

The day started early, as race days do, and I had packed everything the night before. (Packing for a tri is almost as complicated as packing for a week long trip.)  Regular readers will know that I expect disaster in the lead up to races, but I have to say that this time the prep went smoothly.  No car breakdowns, no injuries, no sick babysitters, no harrowing packet pickup.  It was very unnerving.

Cat Photo Bomb

I squeezed my bike into the transition area.  It was a little tight, but the athletes around me were friendly and accommodating.  This was going to be my first race in a wetsuit and I spent a good amount of time deciding when, exactly, I wanted to struggle into the thing.  Putting those rubbery devices on is really no joke.  Think trying to get compression socks up to your neck.  Fortunately, the heater at our city pool has been out, so I’ve been getting lots of wetsuit practice.

I lined up with all of the other similarly wetsuited people (a few were braving the water temperatures without) and listened to the instructions.  I was nervous, of course, and the instructions were lengthy.  They sounded something like, “Welcome to the…something…annual Texas State Tri…which….blah…blah…blah Turn right…blah…blah.  Stay left….blah… and up the gravel…blah…blah… NO DRAFTING…blah…blah Straight ahead… blah…blah… neighborhood….blah…blah… finish line.”

I laughed and commented to a random person standing next to me, “Good thing I can just follow the person in front of me.”  “Ha, ha, me too!” she replied.  This turned out to be very NOT funny later.

I held waaaaayyyyy back to start the swim.  I was nearly dead last.  I’m not sure why.  I didn’t plan to try to push my way to the front- I dislike getting run over in the water- but I had sort of thought a mid-packish start would be fine.  Didn’t happen.  I just went with it.  After all, when I start has nothing to do with where I place at the finish.

And into the water.  Oh.My.Goodness.  There was stuff in the water.  Freakish plants growing straight up from the bottom of the Aquarena Springs.  They looked like something that belonged on a Star Wars planet.  The water was really clear, and if open water swimming didn’t terrify me so much, I probably would have thought it was beautiful.  As it was, I just kept trying to dodge the plants.  That was a terrible plan, of course, because I had no idea if swimming to the right or the left would actually get me around the plants.  The dodging was just adding meters to my swim.  Around 300 meters in, I finally realized that swimming straight through no matter what made far more sense, and I finished the 500 meters about two minutes slower than my “pool swim” time.

And onto the bike.  I really wanted to give it my all on the bike for this race.  That’s been my weakest link in other races and I was determined to improve on that.  I figured I would go as hard as I could for the 12 miles and then just do what I could after that on the run.  And I passed people!  A good number of people, actually.  That, my dear friends, is a big deal for me.  We will conveniently overlook the fact that some of those people were 20 years older than I and some were 12 year old kids.  A pass is a pass.  My training has increased both my strength and my confidence.  I started to waver around the 9 mile point, but I pushed through and averaged 16.5 mph.  (No snickering.  That’s fast for me.)

And then the run.  There’s no way to sugarcoat it.  The run leg of a tri feels awful, especially at first.  Every muscle is saying, “Hey, wasn’t that the finish line you just left behind?  Let’s walk this.  Or go get coffee.  Yes, coffee!”  I pushed through and my pace was pretty good.  It was only a 5K and I’ve been running shorter distances faster, especially after all of that half marathon training I did over the winter.  I felt relatively strong and knew I could push myself.

And...for contrast...Here is what a REAL triathlete, in this case my coach, Travis, looks like leaving transition.

I passed a lot of walkers and slower runners.  (Side note: Yes, people walk in triathlon races.  There are all levels and types and athletes of different strengths.)  And then I headed off into the woods. 

Wait, woods?  I didn’t hear anything about woods.  Nice, though.  I like running in the woods. 

Was I on the right path?  I didn’t miss a turn, did I?  Oh, good, I’m coming up to Spiderman Jersey Guy.  I’ll just run with him.

Why did he quit running????  Spiderman should NOT walk.  Web through the trees, maybe, but not walk.  Okay, I’ll just keep going. 

Nobody.  There is nobody around here and now I can’t even see Spiderman behind me.  Shouldn’t I be hitting an aid station? 

And then I stopped.  I wandered around.  I was totally convinced I was lost.  How else had I gotten all by myself? 

By this time, although my muscles still had juice, my brain was getting a little fuzzy.  In a race, I pay very little attention to where I’m going because I figure there will be markers.  My mind was trying to convince me that I had probably missed a turn off.

I finally pulled myself together and just started running.  The sad thing was, I was actually on the right path the whole time!  All those minutes.  Precious minutes.  Sigh.

The woods opened up and I ended up in a neighborhood.  There was one fork in the road with a cone but no arrow, but I ended up managing to stay on the path, and I FINALLY started to see other runners.

Or limpers.  A guy was limping up a hill in front of me.  When I asked if he was okay, he said he had an injured hamstring.  I wished him luck and passed him.

I was running along and I heard someone coming up behind me.  Darn it!  Hamstring Guy is going to pass me.  I cannot let Hamstring Guy pass me.  I ran faster.  Finally, I couldn’t keep ahead anymore and the runner pulled up alongside me.  It wasn’t Hamstring Guy.  What a relief!  It was Dude in All Black- black jersey, black shorts.  

We ran together toward the finish line and he started to pull just a little ahead of me.  I let him go.  Guys hate to be chicked and it’s not like I needed to beat him.  Had I known at that moment that I was going to be beaten out of placing in my age group by FIVE SECONDS, I would have taken him down.  Live and learn.  This is how people become obnoxious.

It was a fun day.  Not my best effort overall (1 hr. 31 min...thank you, lack of directional confidence) but I could really see that my training is paying off.  (Thanks, Coach Travis!)  Looking forward to the next one!   

Oh, and did I mention Coach Travis won the race?  Minor detail.  He’s fast.  And also does not suffer from crazy hair after a race.  (Thanks, Katlyn, for the pictures and the ride.)

Tiny Texan

This past Sunday was the Tiny Texan Triathlon!  Here's my race recap:

I had done this race last year.  It was, in fact, my very first sprint triathlon.  When I got home, I set my bike up on the trainer in my room and didn't touch it again until 10 months later.  I did a little better with my swimming and running, but those became pretty erratic after November as well.  Even though I knew I had let myself slip over the winter, I was still hoping that my summer training would pay off at least a teensy bit by the time the Tiny Texan rolled around again.

My race prep went really smoothly.  Too smoothly, I began to superstitiously tell myself.  I've only done four races in my life, and the lead up to those included having the van- with all the kids in it- break down on the way to packet pick up, realizing the night before that I had zero race "fuel," and nearly abandoning a race completely because of extreme kid meltdown.  Not this time.  This time packet pickup went off without a hitch and I had everything packed and ready to go by 8 PM on Saturday evening.  Too smoothly.  Then, at 9 PM, I whacked my head really hard on the corner of the freezer and felt better.  No need to worry about impending doom anymore- I had a lump on my head.

The Tiny (sprint) and Small (Olympic) Triathlon takes place at Boerne Lake every July.  The sprint distance is considered a slightly "long" sprint: 800 m open water swim, 25K bike over "hill country terrain" and a 5K run.  The views are really beautiful and it's a race I'd wholeheartedly recommend to others. (Just remember:  It's Texas.  It's July.  It's hot.  It's hilly.  It's- mostly- a trail run.  You should totally go for it!)

I got my bike racked and my transition stuff set up.

Thanks, Mike, for the picture!

Transition, Before.  See Below for "After."

And then the waiting.  Lots of waiting.  I chatted with some of the other racers, recognized a few from last year and from the Rockin’ R, and just bounced around trying to burn off my nervous energy.  It’s actually fun to see so many people of so many ages and backgrounds coming together for the same crazy reason.

As the start time got closer, everyone grabbed swim caps and goggles and headed down to the lake to wait there.  The Small Texans took off first to swim their 1500 m.  The speedy ones were finished before the Tiny Texans even got in.  The fast women climbed out of the lake congratulating and encouraging each other.  The fast men climbed out, checked their watches, and shook their heads in frustration.  (I’m glad I’m not a 20-40 year old male.  Their competitiveness must just suck the joy out of everything.  It gave the rest of us something to nervously laugh about while we waited, though.)

Then came the call for the "Tiny Men" to get in the water.  They did, while inwardly swearing never again to do a race with "Tiny" in the name.  And then, the Tiny Women.  

I felt more confident about my swimming this time around, but I was still a little freaked out by the open water.  Try as I might, I couldn't keep a straight line!  For the first 300 meters, I was swimming ALL over the place.  I was getting really thrown off by some of the other swimmers who were swimming off to the right and the left.  One lady actually was swimming TOWARD me.  "Other way!"  "Thank you!"  I think she may have beaten me in the end.  About halfway, I finally started to get into a flow that allowed me to actually swim and not just try to figure out which direction I was going.  (Note to self:  Do not wear goggles that fog on race day.)  The stretch to the shore was a little tough.  There weren't any brightly colored landmarks to aim for. (I thought there was, but turns out it was a picnic area off to the left.  Thank you, fellow swimmer, for setting me straight.)  Fortunately, a spectator with a bright yellow polo had noticed the problem and stationed himself right at the exit point.  Thank you, Yellow Polo Man!

And then it was onto the bike!  My bike was my worst leg last time around, so I was determined to give this a good effort.  It's a pretty hilly ride, but it has some beautiful views.  I had done some training rides on the route so that I'd be better prepared, mentally and physically, for the race.  (That, of course, is when I took these pictures.  I would be in sad shape if I tried to snap pictures while riding.)

 The great thing about these long rides is that there are so many supportive spectators to cheer you on.

I was able to pass a few people along the way, and not too many women passed me.  A few men did.  Very fast men.  People shouted encouragements along the way.  On the way back, I fell in behind a man who was keeping a good pace for me.  (Drafting is illegal- I wasn't close, just behind him.)  As we hit the last big hill, I could see him deflate and slow down some.  "This is the LAST HILL and the view from the top is awesome!" I told him as I passed.  A woman nearby said, "Really?"  I don't know whether she believed me.  This picture doesn't do it justice, especially since the camera flattens everything out, but that's the lake in the distance, and it's breathtaking.  Worth the climb.

Then, it was time to run!  Normally, in my training, my legs would feel heavy running off the bike, but this time, I was having some serious pain in my hips.  Yikes.  I ran up the hill anyway and hoped it would work itself out.  And then came the Dam Run.

Hot. Hot. Hot.  The key for me is not to look down and see this:

Beautiful, cool, lake water does not make me feel better about running while I'm frying.  I tried to keep an even pace- something that I didn't do last year- and an awful lot of people were walking.  Only one woman passed me on the run, and she had an Ironman tattoo- so, you know, whatever.

After much deliberation, I had decided to carry my own water on the run instead of relying on the aid station.  I'm not too great at drinking out of those bitty cups and on a run this short, I don't need an excuse to walk.  I ran the whole way, and on the way back, I still felt like I was running in slow motion, but I couldn't really force myself to go any faster.  I kept telling myself it wasn't as hot as last year.  (That may or may not have been true.  Some of my fellow racers were very skeptical when I said that later.)  And the blisters!  Normally I don't have a problem running short distances without socks, but my new(ish) shoes apparently had razor blades installed on the sides that I wasn't aware of.  I plodded on and swore that next time, I'd take the 4 second hit and put on socks.

And then, the finish line!  I did, apparently, have some extra reserves I hadn't tapped because I did speed up to cross the line.  And then it was on to the after party.  Lots of very sweaty, happy people swapping war stories, and eating the BEST FOOD IN THE WORLD.  (Hunger is, indeed, the best cook.)

Transition, After.

Final Stats:

800 m Swim: 23:57 (I nearly screamed aloud in frustration when I saw that.  The same to the SECOND as last year.)

T1: 1:37

25K Bike: 1:03:26 (6 minutes faster than last year!)

T2: 1:24

5K Run: 35:53 (About a minute faster than last year.  Like last year, the 5K was "long" 3.4 miles.  Maybe one of these days they'll invent something that will help race directors use some sort of satellite to set up the distances properly.)

Overall Time: 2:06:19 (7 minutes faster than last year.  Progress!)

18th of 53 women, 6th in my age group.

I think the training did pay off a teensy bit, and this year, there won't be any dusty bike sitting in my room.

Rockin' R

So...last weekend I did something I had no business doing:

A triathlon!

Seriously, I have gotten so very out of shape since November that racing of any type should have been the furthest thing from my mind.  But, I knew I needed something to get me back in the game, and that something was the Rockin' R Triathlon in Gruene, Texas.

This photo of Gruene Mansion Inn Bed & Breakfast is courtesy of TripAdvisor

It's a beautiful course along (and in) the Guadalupe River, with huge trees arching above the road along the water.  The weather was gorgeous too!

After the Tiny Texan Tri last year, I felt pretty confident that I'd keep exercising and stay focused on getting back in shape.  And while I will admit that I didn't touch my bike at all after that race, I did keep running and swimming through the first part of the school year.  In November, I started toying with the idea of training for a half marathon (it seemed like training for one sport might be a little easier during the school year).  Then, life smacked me upside the head, the stress of everything I was (trying to) balance caught up with me and I cut way back on any sort of exercise.  I ran some here and there, but it was very inconsistent.

As the end of the school year got closer and I started to see light at the end of the tunnel, I started running a few times a week.  I ditched the treadmill and ran outside ONLY.  The sunshine and fresh air did me so much good.  And, all that fresh air might have gone to my head a little after my long winter of deprivation, because I decided in April that I should do the Rockin R, even though it was coming up in just a few weeks.

I got back in the pool and didn't drown.  I dusted off (literally) my bike and didn't die (though my legs thought they might).  I ran with a little more purpose- not very fast, but with a focus on consistency.

And then I signed up for the race.  I told myself that I was going to be slow.  That it was going to be hard.  That I was going to do it for the fun and the fitness and not focus on my times.

When my alarm went off at 4, I thought to myself, "It's a good thing they make you pay for races in advance, because I wouldn't be getting out of bed if I didn't have money on the line."

I got my transition spot set up, and started to worry a little about the water temperature.  It's been unseasonably cool and we'd had some rain, so the Guadalupe was a chilly 72.  About half the racers were wearing wet suits.  Oh well. It was only 400 meters.  I wasn't going to freeze.  

I was also a little concerned about my lack of full preparation.  The race was the Sunday after our last day of school.  I had spent the weekend grading finals.  I hadn't had my bike tuned up.  I hadn't even taken the time to get bars or anything to eat.  I had a banana and some electrolyte water.  That should do it.

And then the race started!  I watched the first swimmers start off across the river and I wondered why they were swimming with their heads up.  When I got in, I figured it out: Rocks!  There were massive rocks just below the surface.  I half swam, half pushed myself across the rocks and then, when the water got deep enough to really swim, at first, I had a hard time finding my rhythm.  I was still a little concerned about the rocks and the water was so MURKY!  I couldn't see a thing.  (Note to self: Do not watch episodes of River Monsters before open water swims.)  I got into a rhythm eventually and finished the swim without a problem.

(400 m. in 9:40, for those who care about such things.  Not too bad for me right now.)

  

Next up, bike.  My transition time was forever long.  (2:36)  My laid back attitude about the race was starting to work against me, but I was having a good time!  The ride was a beautiful one with "rolling hills."  That means there's nothing too strenuous, but it's definitely not flat.  I was SO slow.  That one ride I had taken really hadn't done much to give me any bike power.  No surprise there, but really, it was bad!  I did enjoy the ride (who doesn't love having police officers to stop traffic at every intersection!) but I felt pretty much like I was crawling along.  (13 miles in 57:56; 13.8 mph)

I had told myself when I signed up for the race that I could walk the run if I had to.  I knew that I might not have the endurance that I needed to finish otherwise.  Plus, there was a killer hill right at the start!  They promised the run was pretty flat after that, and some of the racers said it was "okay to walk the hill after the bike."  The second I hit that hill, I suddenly told myself there was NO WAY I was going to walk- not even a single step- on the run.  I don't know why that suddenly became so important.  I think I was a little frustrated by my slow bike and I didn't want to compound it by strolling along for the run.  I found a pace I could sustain and I kept it up.  I was feeling pretty good!

And then I saw the one mile marker.  "What the heck?" I actually said out loud.  I definitely felt like I had been running much longer than that.  But I told myself that the first mile is always the toughest and it was only a 5K.  I stuck to my "run slowly, but run" strategy and finished the race feeling strong.  (5K in 32:59; 9:59 min/mile.  Total time: 1:44:51)

Sorry for the lack of pictures on this one!  I was going it solo and didn't really take any myself.  But what a great day!  It was just the summer jump start that I needed.  It was a much-needed lesson in the value of jumping in and finishing- not perfectly, not even well- but finishing anyway.

Oh, and was I sore the next day?  You bet.  Totally worth it.

Tiny Texan

I finished my first sprint tri!

Sunday was the annual Tiny/Small Texan Triathlon in Boerne.  I've had my eye on this race for a few months, and I finally decided to sign up and go for it.  The sprint (Tiny) race is an 800 m. swim, 25K bike, 5K run.

I got there early, got everything set up, and nervously bounced around waiting for the race to start.  The pro triathlete who's helped me with some of my swimming, Travis, was there for the Small Texan (olympic distance race), and he talked me into a short, slow jog before the race started.  That sounded pretty crazy to me, considering that I was just hoping that I'd have the endurance to finish the race, but it was better than standing still, so I went along with it.

The Small Texan racers started first, and Travis was the first one out of the water by a minute and a half.  Then, it was time for the Tiny racers to start.  (You're probably picturing elves right now.)     I had done one open water swim before the race, so I knew I probably wouldn't panic in the water, but I wasn't willing to fight it out with the other racers at the start.  I'm not a fast swimmer and I had no intention of getting run over.  I hung back and started nearly last.  Apparently, I then passed other swimmers, but since everyone was fairly spread out in the water, I didn't really realize that.  I am terrible at swimming straight in open water.  It's harder than it looks.  The buoys were placed 200 m apart, and I stayed on track by looking up every so often and course correcting.  In politics and in swimming, I lean right.  After about 500 meters, I became pretty convinced that I was coming in dead last.  I wasn't really looking for a fast finish, but it made me remember what Nathan had said after his first tri, "You just don't want to be in the water so long that everyone knows your name and is cheering for you."  That made me laugh- yes, even while I was swimming- and I just kept going.  Turns out I wasn't last by a long shot, but since I could see people ahead of me and no one was passing me, it just felt like it.

Coach Eddie, Boerne's swim coach extraordinaire, was there to watch Travis, and Travis' mom and girlfriend came as well.  I got to borrow them to be my cheer squad too!  I ran up the hill (uphill proved to be the theme of the day) out of the lake and into the transition area, hopped on my bike and headed out.  (Thanks, Katlyn, for the pictures!)

The ride started out along the I-10 access road.  It was a little hilly (something I never realized when driving in the car!) but not too bad at all.  I started to feel pretty confident.  We Tiny racers turned around just after the Welfare Country Club (ritzy place, let me tell you) and PoPo's restaurant.  (All the German speakers should feel free to snicker.  No, I've never eaten there.)  We actually had to head back just as things were getting scenic.  The announcer had said before the race that, on the way back, we would pass the lake and go in the other direction "for a little bit" to make it a true 25K ride.  No problem, I could do a little bit.

Well, his definition of a little bit and my definition of a little bit are clearly different.  Oh my goodness, the hills!  I just became determined not to walk up any of them.  And I didn't.  It was beautiful and scenic in a Texas sort of way, with a view of the lake after the turnaround, but my lack of training on the road started to become apparent.  I don't care how much I crank up the resistance on my trainer, it's not the same as actually riding uphill.

I still felt good coming out of the bike, though I knew I had slowed considerably during that last "little bit" (which I think was at least 1/3 of the ride.)  I got back into transition, slipped on my running shoes, and took off up the rocky hill for the run.  And then I hit the dam.  I had heard people mention the dam- how hot it was, how hard it was to run at the end of the race- but now I knew what all the fuss was about.  It was soooo hot!  I felt like an egg in a frying pan, and I was pretty certain that I had used every last ounce of power in my legs biking up those hills.  At this moment, I was really worried that I was going to have to walk the run, but I pushed ahead, and kept going as best I could.  The run revealed another problem with my training- no heat acclimation.  I work out on a treadmill in the air conditioning.  My body had no idea what to do with the temperatures I was dealing with.  The aid station and its cold water seemed forever away!  And I have to admit, I was kind of shocked with how I was feeling.  I'm not a fast runner, but my 5K pace is pretty consistent, so I felt confident that I could handle the run.  Halfway through, my legs were cramping so badly (holdover from the bike) that I could see my muscles spasming.  I stopped to work that out, and then, coming back across the dam, I finally realized that I just HAD to keep an even pace.  There was a lady who was running more slowly than my usual pace, but she was being consistent.  I got behind her and just followed her to the finish line.  Thanks #177!

At the finish line, I picked up my medal and WATER, carefully made my way down to the lake and cooled off!!  My final times were 800m swim: 23:57; 25K bike 1 hr, 9 min; 5K run 37:04.  Total time: 2:13:34.  I actually came in third in my age group, which surprised me because I felt SO slow.  I guess it helps that everyone else was having to deal with the same hills and heat.  (Travis came in first in his age group and third all around for the olympic distance.  The top three finishers were all pros.  And it actually took him just 10 minutes longer to finish twice the distance that I covered.  Ah, well, the joys of being young.)

I had a great time, and there wasn't a single moment during the race that I regretted signing up for it (not even on the dam!)  I had some great inspiration along the way:  On the swim, I could hear Coach Eddie: "Steady, even pace."  Coach Travis: "Ten strokes then look up or else you're going to end up in the middle of the lake." On the bike, "Coach" Dad: "Don't coast- keep pedaling!"  Amanda, who got me started on this craziness: "You've got to start taking these hills, Aimee!" Trust me, after struggling up the hills- I wasn't chickening out and braking on the way down.   And the most inspiring of all, little Carsten, "Mommy, I hope you win your race!"

Not win, buddy, finish.  And that's a win in my book.

Freshman Tri!

I finished my very first freshman tri!  It was so much fun, and I look forward to doing lots more (and getting a lot faster.)

I did the Windcrest Freshman Tri, designed for beginners, but not limited to first-timers.  I was most nervous about the swim.  It was only 200 meters, but I had done exactly 6 lap swim sessions in the two weeks leading up to the race.  (And that was the only lap swimming I had done in my life.)

Then, of course, there's the transition:  Getting out of the pool, clipped into a bike, off of the bike and into running shoes.  Whew!  It was lot to think about, especially when my body was really more interested in making sure I was breathing than sending extra blood to my brain.

And the pool was cold!  72 degrees.  For the first 15 meters, I had serious freezer brain- like the kind you get from Sonic slushes.  But it wore off and then my only problem was all the other people in the pool.  I knew there would likely be people walking the run, but walking the swim??  And the narrow lanes made passing difficult, especially since a couple people were doing breaststroke- that sort of takes the whole lane, particularly when you have people going in both directions.

I survived the swim, trudged over to my bike, got my shoes on my wet feet, put on my helmet and managed to get clipped in without incident.  (That was my other concern- missing the clip-in and sprawling on the pavement.  It would have been funny, but highly embarrassing.)  I enjoy riding, and I had to keep reminding myself that this was a RACE, not a Saturday morning spin through Windcrest.  I caught myself paying WAY too much attention to the scenery.  Ten miles later, I fumbled my way back through transition and pulled on my running shoes.

I missed my music.  For some reason, I have a hard time keeping up a good pace if I don't have music.  Listening to the breeze and the birds singing is nice and all, but it doesn't make me run very fast.  I guess I'll have to practice more "quiet" running.

Crossing the finish line was a major rush, but here I did make a rookie mistake:  I glanced at the time as I crossed and thought that was my time.  "Man, I am SLOW!"  But I finished and that's what counted.  Turns out, that was the time since the beginning of the race, so it included the 25 minutes I spent standing in line waiting to swim.  Live and learn.

I was still pretty slow:  200 m swim- 5:49; 10 mile bike- 37:39; 2 mile run- 19:31.  I definitely need to spend more time riding.  (But not, apparently, in the city of Bulverde.  Check out this story.   A side note to the mayor of Bulverde:  Share the road.  Cyclists vote too.)

I'm especially grateful to my friend Amanda for inspiring me to do this.  She has seven kids too, and she came in first in her age group!  (And, thanks, Anthony, for the pictures!)

Here's to finishing!  And to next time!