How not to F$%! up 4 months of training by getting sick a week before your race

Let me get my disclaimer out of the way first:  there is no scientific background/research involved in this post.  I am not a doctor, I could barely make it through biology class so a career in the medical profession was never in the cards for me.

My top ten tips on staying healthy (and not getting the CREEPING CRUD your children bring home from school/birthday parties/playdates/sporting practice) is purely driven by my experience with a compromised immune system (thanks again Breast Cancer, you're a real peach). 

I could feed a small underdeveloped country with the money I've wasted on race registrations because I got sick by being a dumbass.  So I thought I would give you my personal best, and also my BRF Cyndie posted on Facebook for ideas as she's going to run the Portland Marathon and I wanted to help her out.

Here are my top ten, in no particular order, on how to stay healthy and not miss your race:

1.  No lip kissing of any kind, children or husband (or significant other) OR your BRF!

2.  No sharing forks, spoons, glasses during meals with ANYONE, not even a SIP of someone's drink, not even if they say "Ew, this is really gross, taste it!"  (don't fall victim to this classic hijinx, it WILL taste gross and you'll get sick)

3.  MOVE YOUR TOOTHBRUSH away from your husband's and kids and I mean like in a hermetically sealed clean room environment away, not up on another shelf away.  Toothbrushes are a magnet for germs, like Bill Clinton to interns.  Or Anthony Weiner to sexting.  Irresistible.

4.  Take a daily zinc supplement (only use the lozenges if you feel like you are getting sick and do some research on the best ones to take before you procure them, they are not all created equal).  This seems to boost my immune system enough to ward off about 50% of the germs in the high school where I work.  

5.  Take a shit-ton of Vitamin D.  You can't overdose on the stuff without taking an entire bottle.  I think I take 4000 gs or mgs, whatever the standard dosage is.  This will also boost your mood, another handy dandy benefit during taper time!

6.  Take VITAMIN E, you know those little goopy capsules that if you puncture you can rub the oil on your boo boos and it heals you right up.  Take them whole.  Suck it up, they help.

7.  LOTS of water. And I mean like 100 ozs of water, so you pee constantly, flushing out all that bad germy stuff.  The bonus is two-fold: you get the health benefit of water AND a little extra exercise going pee all the time.

8.  REST - if your body says it's too tired to do a workout, skip it.  Seriously.  At this point you are ready, ya gotta love taper time.  If you are feeling run down and you workout anyways, trust me on this: it will almost guarantee you'll get sick.  Refer to item #5, if you can't work out at least you're taking a mood booster.  Taper weeks are rough for us as I find myself growling more often than not.  But it's OK to miss a session, you'll be that much more revved up on race day.

9.  Eat well, and often.  Fuel that body.  If you aren't eating enough you will also get sick.  I don't mean all you can eat buffet eat well, but don't skip meals, have seconds and don't worry about your calories.  You'll need them later and your tired body will THANK YOU.

10. Never fear killing germs with alcohol.  Ever.  Beer, wine, liquor- it's all good.  That's all I can say: NEVER FEAR KILLING GERMS WITH ALCOHOL.

Good luck to everyone in taper mode, follow my advice and while I cannot 100% guarantee you won't get sick, I DO know that you're doing more than most to avoid it.  And, if all else fails, put yourself in a bubble.  Don't go to a hotel, don't get me started on the germ issues there.....

Love always,

Maude

Maude learns to roll with the punches

I'm officially blogging for our local online running news source now under my real name and posted my race recap last week.  So I had to wait to post my personal review of my sprint tri for a few days.  Now Maude can tell you the real story. 

My official review was very complimentary towards the event, deservedly so. I just didn't want to put a bunch of stuff in my race recap about my actual race, no one really cares how I did, except for me. 

Let me get the first thing out of the way: THE LAKE WAS CLOSED TO SWIMMING!!!!  THE LAKE WAS CLOSED TO SWIMMING!  Remember my description about the smelly lake and dry heaving and stuff? VINDICATION!  They closed the lake to swimming the day before my sprint tri because of the fear of a TOXIC ALGAE OUTBREAK.  I can't make this stuff up.

My initial reaction?  Horrendously inappropriate and uncontrollable sobbing.  Like I'd run over a pet cat or something.  I mean seriously, I've had a LOT worse things happen to me in the last three years you'd think this would just roll off my back.  But you would be horribly wrong.

I cried, and cried and cried and cried......My only option, according to the email from the event company, was to do the Duathlon instead.  Are you freaking serious?  I have not RUINED my hair in a swimming pool for three months, subjected myself to an open water swim in what felt like an ocean and risked typhoid fever the week before the event to be told I have to run an extra 5K. 

Oh.  No.  You.  Di-int.

I kept saying "I didn't train for this event."  "My joints will never forgive me, I'll be in severe pain on Sunday."  "I don't even like riding a bike, maybe this is the universe telling me to just forget it."  Then I realized I'd have to repack my bag, and the kids bags and try to get some damn sleep.

Now I had put a TON of pressure on myself for this event.  Suddenly, the weight was lifted.  To be honest, I slept like a baby.  But I awoke with a very confused feeling, no anchor.  No A, B or C goal to achieve.  NO freaking clue how I would even do. 

The absolute FREEDOM I actually felt was like nothing I've ever experienced in a race.  I had nothing to prove.  I just had to go.  My BRF even wore her "Don't think, just go" shirt, courtesy of the Another Mother Runner  tribe.  So appropriate.  I had no other options.

 

Here is my BRF with the shirt, and the biggest, baddest cowbell ever!

I was still on the nervous side and barely choked down my breakfast.  Once again, can't believe I had anything left in my colon that morning but apparently I was oh so very wrong.  My compliments to the event organizers on the appropriate number of porta potties for the amount of racers. 

Normally I wish there were three porta-potty sections, one for the casual pee-er, the person who empties their bladder not because they need to, but because they feel like it.  No rush on their part. 

Then there should be a section for the emergency peers, the people who either hold it too long or drove far enough that they're sweating bullets when they arrive. 

The third section would be for people like me, the "I think I might SHART myself" line, the line that I would have needed to be in that morning, but thankfully I never really had to wait all that long. 

But I digress.  Must focus.  I really loved getting all inked up, with my big ol' 40 on my right calf and 26 (my race number) on the left.

I convinced myself that people might think the 26 and the 40 were accidentally reversed, despite my wrinkles, gray hair and flabby-ish upper arms.

There's something empowering about seeing someone's age as you compete.  Every time I passed someone running or biking with anything below 40 was a VERY gratifying experience.  Boom diggity.  But, being passed by someone with 56 on there, well that just wasn't fun.  And it did happen.

And, as it turns out,  I had the option of only doing the bike & run, and not replacing the swim with another 5K.  Have we met?  Well, that wasn't going to be acceptable.  Like any insane weekend warrior I just had to see what I could do.  Anything less would have felt like I wimped out.  Not that I'm judging....just saying for me that's how I would have felt.

My little family made it to the start of the race, literally as they were counting down the last 30 seconds before the race started.  I was so happy to get hugs and kisses from the kids who, thankfully, genuinely seemed to be happy to waste an hour and 37 minutes of their lives watching me compete.

I took off on the run and hung in the back.  I listened to the announcer tell us not to push too hard on the first 5K, and to save it for the end.  I finished the first 5K without even breaking a sweat, sitting at 92 out of 197 some competitors and in 28:32, which is a slow & easy pace for me.  I was glad I didn't push too hard.

See? Not even tired or sweaty.

 

In the end they told us we could run with one earbud in, something I didn't think we could do, so of course I had to run with tunes.  That ended up costing me a few seconds in transition to the bike, which made me mad and regret my decision to listen to music.  

Then I was really mad because if had been able to swim it wouldn't have been an issue at all.  Like the hulk, any anger triggers an immediate hot flash.  Now I'm breaking a sweat.  Damn.

Here I am, headed to the bike portion.  Note my helmet wasn't buckled so that cost me time too.  

 

So the bike was where I was most nervous.  I've said it before but I'm terrified of the bike.  I was ever nervous about how that was going to go, but I had nothing to fear apparently.

 

My long ol' legs are clearly an advantage so I passed many people (again, thrilled when their ages were less than mine) and ended up going into the final 5K at 51st place.  Do that math, 92 going in, 51 coming out.....Never in my life has 12 miles on a bike gone so freaking fast.  And thank GOD for the tail wind on the return 6 miles.

Here I am, I came flying in at 20 MPH, I kid you not.  No way was I slowing down until I had to!

I wasted no time on the transition here, and just took off on the run.  Again, your brain thinks you should be going faster so you try really hard but your legs feel like they belong to someone else so you WILL THEM TO MOVE. 

And I mean you really WILL THEM TO MOVE.  If legs could talk after a hard bike ride and you push them to run, they would say, and I quote "F*&k you."  Yes, they would.

After about the first mile I started to get the feeling back and was holding pretty well at my pace.  I walked through the aid stations (lesson learned during my first half marathon) and put on the gas for the last mile, and was running sub 8 when I finished.  

Here I am, running by the STINKY lake (thank GOD I didn't have to swim in it) for the second time that day.  The girl next to me that I'm passing had a 33 on her calf.  Jussayin'.

I ended up finishing 48th overall, in the top fourth of the competitors, and 10th in my age division, 40-44 year old women.  Not too shabby for an old lady on her first tri, er, try!  I realized, as I calculated my times that I likely would have finished in about 1:30 had I done the swim.  So, it was a total victory for me.

This last pic is one of my favorites.  I was so happy to see my kids and husband there to cheer me on.  I was smiling SO BIG every time I saw them in transition.  I should have posted THOSE pics.  It meant the world to me that my family was there, along with my Best Running Friend Cyndie and her husband (whose LIGHTNING fast bike I borrowed) and their kids.

Even if it wasn't the race I wanted, it was the race I raced and the best I've ever done.  I loved it.  In fact, I registered for my next sprint tri, and have been assured that I'll be able to get my swim in this time as it's in a nice, clear reservoir in Oregon.

I learned to roll with the punches on this one.  Racing and parenting are no different in that respect.  What you are prepared for may not always be what happens and you've got to do the best you can in that moment.  And I did.  I truly found some bliss in this chaos of racing that I've created for myself.  And I can't wait for the next one.......

Putting on my big girl panties

Who needs to take all that nasty "prep" before a colonscopy, simply register for a sprint triathlon (or fill in the blank for whatever you might do), train for it for months and then wait until the day before. 

I guarantee your colon will be so clean it sparkles, like in that Orbit Gum commercial. Really.  It totally will.

Today is supposed to be a day of carbo fueling, (not counting calories) and resting.  A day I look forward to for MONTHS.  Instead, I'm "running" to the bathroom and can't hardly eat a darn thing. 

So while I'll be on the lighter side for my first sprint triathlon tomorrow, I'll also be under fueled.  Which brings me to my post for the day.

I started training for this event in May.  I haven't gotten injured, I only missed one week of training (a rest week no less, because I got sick) and I even did a practice tri (recently, and I did a blog about it) and I smoked it.  So why would I, at this point, be so nervous that I can't even eat?!?!

I decided it's time for me to put on my big girl panties and own up to my fears.  Maybe writing it down will lessen some of my nerves so I can finally relax and get mentally prepared.

I'm nervous for the swim.  I'm a confident swimmer, and I've been in open water before.  However, I've not ever swam through a sewer, which is what Blue Lake smelled like when I attempted my second, and final, pre-race open water swim last Saturday.

Maybe it was the slight hangover, but I kind of doubt it.  I got in the water up to my knees and promptly DRY HEAVED from the smell.  That one EPIC FAILURE has me concerned that I'm not gonna be able to suck it up and swim in that cesspool.

I decided to bail out on the swim last weekend, thinking (rationalizing) that perhaps acquiring the PLAGUE a week before my race wasn't a good plan.  So I'm kinda freaking out about that. 

At the very least I timed my side stroke yesterday in the pool and it is slightly slower than my freestyle, and slightly faster than my breast stroke. I don't have to put my face in the water with that one, and I've got NO SHAME if I have to bust it out.

So assuming I survive the swim, then I have to ride 12 miles on a bike.  That I borrowed.  Because I'm an idiot and I registered for an event that requires a bike.  And I don't have one. 

But as far as borrowed bikes go, this one is the SHIZZLE, a super light and fast Trek road bike, that even has an AMERICAN FLAG and the name of it's OWNER on the side (my BRF's hubby who is an AVID and REALLY GOOD cyclist). 

My only issue with the bike, aside from it being a bike (I say a Hail Mary every 1/2 mile while riding folks, I'm THAT terrified) is the tires are really really really skinny.

The run is the part I'm the least concerned about, aside from just hoping I'm not out of gas before I even get there.  I've been training hard so I have hope that between what I want to be a somewhat restful sleep and the fuel plan I have in place (yes, it does include bananas) will hold me until the end.

So aside from total panic and many "what the hell was I thinking" moments, the bottom line is that I really don't want to just finish.  I always say "Oh I'm happy to finish on my own power" but honestly that is total bullshit.

This time, THIS TIME, I want to crush my race plan.  Not just smash it a little, but CRUSH IT, like stomp on it and do a little dance on top of it with a big smile on my face crush it.  And I think I can.  But what I need to say is I KNOW I can, but I'm not there.  YET.  I might not be there until I actually do it.

There's a lot of pressure that I put on myself for this.  It's all that time I've spent training, time that my husband had to pick up the slack and deal with 2 (and for the summer 3) kids all by himself.

Saturday mornings that I didn't sleep in and snuggle, evening workouts where I could have been home with my husband. Time away from my responsibilities as a mother.  But yet, it's the time away spent training that allows me to stay a mostly sane human. 

My BRF is coming to watch me and I don't want her to have gotten up so freaking ass crack early only to choke it up during the race.  I watched her do this event last year (I was supposed to do it WITH her but well, life got in the way) and I don't want to disappoint her.  I want to have a good showing.  And she's got one big ass cowbell to ring.....seriously.  On loan.  From a drummer.

My dear sweet husband and children will be there too.  This has been a sacrifice for them as well.  I don't want to disappoint them with a crappy race and have three months of effort be for nothing and then have a really crabby mom.  If I fail, swim, bike, or run....I'll have failed my family.

Finally, if I don't do well I will feel like I failed myself.  You don't give up this much time to train for something and be mildly accepting if you don't do as well as you thought.  Let's be honest.

And I know what I think I am capable of for this event, and I'm afraid if I don't complete this event to the level I am capable of, that I'll never forgive myself. 

I set my B goal as 1:50.  That's a 25 minute swim, 45 minute bike, 30 minute run and 10 minutes total transition time.  I know I can nail that.

I set my A goal as 1:40.  That's a 20 minute swim, 40 minute bike and 30 minute run, with another 10 minutes total transition time.  Again, I know that's achievable.

But, if I'm being honest, I CAN do better than that.  I am CAPABLE of better than that.  I'm capable of an 18 minute swim, 36 minute bike, 25 minute run with 6 minutes total transition time.  That's 1:25.  I am CAPABLE of it, I just don't think I WILL do it.

For tomorrow, though, I'm not gunning for 1:25.  I'll save that for another sprint, another time.  I need to make space in my head to say that I'm going to hit my A goal, and I will get there, no problem. 

I NEED to stop the self doubt, put my fears aside, and put on my big girl panties and know that I've trained, HARD, for months.  Tomorrow is the main event, and this time I will put everything out there and see what happens.  There will be no "I think I could have done better on X, Y or Z."

I already feel better having written this all down.   Right now I'm going to go (gag down) eat (another) banana and hope that tomorrow I'll have finished all my nervous pooping and wake up rested, happy and ready to kick some ass.

Maude VS The Month of July

Three years ago this morning I received the call that came far too soon.  It was a call from my brother to let me know that our Dad has passed away unexpectedly the night before.  July 26, 2010. 

We had just moved to Portland to begin a new adventure in a big city, the city where my parents were both born & raised, the city where they met and married, and the city that I always felt at home.

I had seen him last, two weeks before, at the 70th birthday party that his twin sister hosted at her home.  Dad came to stay with me for two more nights after the party and then left. 

Aside from a voice mail from him, I can't recall that I actually spoke to him again before he was gone.  I'll never forgive myself for that.

July is a month of memories, some good and some bad.  It seems like July is the month that "Shit Rains Down on My Family" ever since we got here.  A month that, from here on out, I think should be "The Month We Run Away to Barbados And Hide Until August 1".

I'm not blaming any sort of karma-ic influence, or Portland as a whole, in fact it's quite the opposite.  I think the stars aligned to put us here because of all the crap that was coming down the pike for us.  This is where we needed, and still need, to be.

I could tick off on both hands the number of fortunate and unfortunate events that have transpired in July, but I won't, aside from pointing out that July 2012 was a month of tragedy and triumph, at least there was triumph this time.

July 12 was my life saving bilateral mastectomy, and the official YOU ARE CANCER FREE phone call came on the 19th.  But, July was also a month of misery, worry, and missed opportunities.  I'm not going to lie, that surgery was a bitch, the recovery no better.

So July is, for me, memories of a "series of unfortunate events", good, bad and at times ugly.  I'm not exactly why I am reflecting on any of this today, I'm not a "dweller". 

I work so very hard at putting things behind me, trying to "just keep swimming" and smiling and pretending that everything, at the present time, is all sunshine and rainbows, even when there's a shit storm brewing below the surface.

As it stands, I'm a bit puzzled as to why I am, at the surface today, near tears.  I do know that I am thankful that there are only five days left of this miserable month.  Five days left of remembering what I've lost, what I've gained and what I've missed.

And, right now, I'm missing out on the laughter and joy of two children who will, I sincerely hope, never know of the Bliss and Chaos that has been the norm in the month of July for me.  For us. 

I think we're going to play poker, then read on my bed, and have a good lunch together.  I'm ever hopeful that memories like this will start to outnumber those that break my heart in the month of July. 

Today I'm going to put on my big girl pants, allow myself to be sad for a little bit and then ride off into the sunset with my kids and my husband and focus on what's important: the here and now.

I'll never stop missing my Dad, I'll never stop loving him.  I'll never stop wishing I'd called him one last time, to tell him that I loved him.  I could never have said it enough, and I do know that now.

I'll never stop wishing I could rewind time and erase all the cancer stuff from last summer (new rack being the exception, that part I would keep most definitely). 

One thing I refuse to wish is that I'd spent more time enjoying my family.  So, for today, I'm signing off to go tickle the hell out of said children and hope that I don't use every box of kleenex in the house today....

Love always,

Maude

Maude goes to dinner, drinks and (gasp) ice cream with someone famous

Nearly two months ago I was giddy with anticipation because someone that I, Maude, a 40 year old woman, look up to & highly admire, wanted to have drinks with ME and my BRF!  OMG. 

To say she's kind of a big deal in Portland, and in the nationwide (and international as it turns out) mother runner community would be like saying Steve Prefontaine was just another runner.  So, I slapped the date into my calendar and there was nothing, NOTHING, that would stop me from going.

If I had to leave food & water out and barricade the three kids in for the night without a sitter, so be it.  Duct tape would help out here immensely and I've got a lot of it.  They'd be fine. 

What the hell, I mean I've already purchased a lifetime's worth of therapy sessions rather than invest in their college fund (honestly, which will they need more, really?  Therapy, absolutely.  My thoughts exactly.) So what would a couple of hours of abandonment do to them anyway?  Couldn't be much worse....

Last week the hubs (who is a freaking SAINT by the way) let me know that he had some evening work functions all week long, including Thursday night, my night, the girls night, the night that Bonnie & Clyde would meet another local celebrity. 

So I jumped on the phone and texted and called every babysitter I knew.  None, of them and I mean NONE of them were available.   I was crestfallen.  Despondent.  Really considering the duct tape plan.

I contacted friends, friends of friends, thought about an ad on Craigslist, but decided against it because there was no time for a fingerprint/background check/blood test and I'd have to take my chances that any Joe Schmoe willing to watch three children for four or more hours for $10 an hour wouldn't try to sell them on eBay or worse.....

Then my son's baseball game was moved to 7PM, at the same time I should be swilling white wine with the famous & beautiful....  Now I'd have to find a babysitter with a driver's license.  I've learned to trust fate and believe that things will always work out, and thankfully, at least this time, they did. 

I will say here publicly that I sincerely doubt that my sitter will ever step foot in my house again for a paid babysitting gig, or quite frankly for any other reason no matter how lucrative it might be.  I'm fairly certain all three kids tortured her.  There's not enough money in Brady's piggy bank (yes I am THAT mom) to compensate for that...

So the sitter was in place, Brady's ride to the game secure, and it was time to get ready for the evening. 

I own one ONE single summer dress that's appropriate, well marginally so as Bonnie & Clyde are well-featured but maybe not necessarily for a girls night out, but what the hell, like I said I own one summer dress so there you go.

Time for a head to toe assessment, when you're meeting someone you look up to/admire you want to look your best. 

Hair: full of gray, when WAS the last time I colored it?  I can't remember, that's not good.  Too late anyway, I've got 45 minutes until the sitter arrives.  Just slap on some pomade to keep those really wire-y gray hairs flat.  Hopefully.

Eyebrows: out of control, why am I such a chicken shit when it comes to waxing?  Oh yes, here's why: A Story Never Told Guess I better do what I can, which isn't much...hope my eyeshadow covers up the strays.

Teeth: Gotta stop drinking so much coffee, oh well note to self: smile without showing teeth.  Even if you have too much wine, do NOT forget.  (I totally forgot.)

Bonnie & Clyde: Damn this dress and the fact that I have no bra to wear with it and that there's no way to even pad the boob part.  B & C might think it's too cold at any given moment (yes, even if it's 90 degrees), super embarrassing...  Better grab my wrap.

Hands: Oh crap, I re-potted several plants, then made jam, which made my fingernails look like I work in an auto shop.  No time to soak.  Damn.  Maybe I should bring her some jam and then I can explain my dirty fingernails? No, better not, she might think I poisoned it or some crazy stalker thing.  Hope I can wash most of it out.  I could, and I did.  Didn't bring the jam.  Unfortunate too, I have a shit ton of it....

Feet: covered in callouses (so bad that a friend gave me a pumice stone, which told me my feet must look REALLY hideous) that I promise to remove once running season is over.  But, is it ever really over?  Meantime at least she's a runner too, she won't even blink an eye. 

But the toes....damn me and my dark purple polish.  Gave them an emergency coat which close up looks like I was drunk when I painted them, but she's tall too, won't even see them and my BRF would never say anything.  All good.

Oh shit, the mustache.....the Burt Reynolds-worthy 'stache.  Still haven't bleached it....sun hasn't helped.  Hope I'm at the right angle in the sun that it just sparkles like diamonds.....

Slapped in some earrings, grabbed my pretend Chanel purse and waited for the sitter. 

The youngest of the three, our sweet little summer visitor, picked the VERY moment BEFORE the sitter arrived to lose her shit.  I was afraid the sitter would leave.  She didn't, thank GOD.  Note to self: pay EXTRA.  (I did).

My BRF said "get the hell in the car, let's go, don't look back!"  We ran to the car and jumped in like Bo & Luke Duke.  It was like we robbed a bank or something the way we tore out of there....two wheels around the corner in a mini van and everything.

Our evening was totally amazing. I enjoyed talking to another fellow mother runner, (even a FAMOUS one!) who always makes you feel like you've known her FOREVER.  Seriously, the first time I met her at an event for her new book she totally made us all feel like we'd know her for YEARS.  I really like that kind of gal.

I'm sure she was thinking Maude is totally crazy (I tell lots of silly little stories to compensate for being super nervous so I'm sure I seemed like a total tool) but it was so much fun to hang out with her, because she's HILARIOUS.  My kind of lady.

We talked about anything and everything, the three of us mother runners, and it was such a fun night.  It was totally worth the traffic, the crazy babysitter situation, and (almost worth) the fact that my poor son almost didn't get picked up from his baseball game.....oh the shame. 

As the evening came to a close I excused myself to the ladies room as I was trying to stealthily text my husband (who was ordering "espresso" at the time) and the sitter, who already put the youngest to bed to see who could pick him up.  Then his coach called as we were on the Freemont bridge. Oh the SHAME....

The sitter did pick up the boy, as the house guest, in general, refuses sleep when the opportunity initially presents itself, so it wasn't an issue anyway.  Had to swing by the cash machine (epic fail on my part, I only put the credit card in my purse and forgot the cash card) so had to borrow the rest of the babysitting money from my BRF.  Once again, she saves the day....

I do hope that I'll have another opportunity for drinks with Sarah Bowen Shea, she's one helluva Bad Ass Mother Runner and I'm honored that she wanted to hang with me and my bud.  Maude is one happy lady.