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.

Maude VS Maude Part 2: The bike & run

I'm not sure it's been properly noted but I'm calling this Maude VS Maude because A) I'm a head case, and B) so much of what I put myself through was a mental game for me, and likely everyone else.

When we last talked I was headed for the bike mount area of the practice tri.  Before I get to that, I do need to note that as I was racking my bike I saw about 10,000 road bikes, and not one single mountain bike.  Panic set in, as it did when I realized I was also in the minority of the wetsuit or no wetsuit group: no wetsuit.

I had no clips, no little foot cage thingys for my feet, nothing.  It was like I was hopping on my Pee Wee Herman bike for a trip to the store.  I was only missing a bell.  But, I was there, what the hell, I just need to get on that bike and head for those "rolling hills".

I call bullshit, here's a map with the elevation profile:  http://www.dailymile.com/routes/1533138-cycling-route  Rolling hills my ass.  And for a chick who has only been on a road one other time in the last like 40 years, I smoked this all things considered.  Completed it in about 43 minutes and some change. 

But there's a story, as there always is with me.  The lady, who clearly was trying to make me feel better, completely undersold the bike and the trail run. The only thing she was right about was not needing a wetsuit.  The ONLY thing....

I knew enough to put my bike in a low gear to get up the first hill, and then coast down.  I figured that had to be the worst of it.  Oh hell was I ever wrong. 

Every hill climb I slipped into a spin gear (seated hill climb per the spin bike) and I felt like Eliot in ET just peddaling my wheels and floating, but not going anywhere fast.

Every descent was like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, completely out of control, and coasting (had to give the legs a rest you know).

The only, and longest ride to date was 8 miles in Sunriver, and it wasn't this hilly.  I was suddenly disgruntled that my family was there, if they hadn't come I could have wimped out and headed back.  My brain was saying "you're such a dumbass, what were you thinking?!"

So I decided to entertain myself, as long as I'm on a bike for the rest of my life, let's do something fun.  So, I sang.  TOP OF MY LUNGS sang.  I sang Britney Spears "Scream and Shout", Bruno Mars "Runaway Baby", anything and everything.  There was NO ONE NEARBY! (or so I thought anyway)

I passed a couple people, apologizing each time (I passed on the right, but in my defense they were in the road and the rules were STAY RIGHT, and I warned them I was coming, but I still felt bad.....)  Gave a verbal high five to the ONLY other human on a mountain bike.

"Hey! Someone ELSE with a bike like me!" she said.  I replied "Thank GOD! This is my first one of these."  "Me too!" was her reply.  I told her to have a great ride and I never saw her again.  But at least I felt less like a schmuck!

I realized about mile 4 that I forgot TWO THINGS I NEED: Gum in my mouth and lip balm.  When you're flying down hill panting like a hound dog on a sun porch in Georgia on a July afternoon you wish wish wish you had some freaking gum.  I did not.  Totally forgot in my transition rush. 

And, didn't reapply lip balm, another one of my little OCD quirks, so in between singing I downed the Nuun in my water bottle to whet my whistle and vowed to take an extra 30 seconds to find those two things during T2.

But the singing, oh the singing, it continued for quite some time until I hit the dam where I saw some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen on a bike ride.  Remember, I did ride in Sunriver....

The sun was sliding down on the horizon, spilling light onto the lake like a paint can filled with gold tipped over a blue canvas.  To the east were luscious green fields and rolling hills, neatly trimmed and perfect.   I was immediately thankful that for the time being my allergy medicine was working well.

"It's F-ing GORGEOUS!!!" I exclaimed to no one in particular.  Then I hear "Yes it is!  On your left!" so after that I kind of kept my trap shut.  God knows how long he was back there listening to me belt out some very out of tune songs.

As I rounded the last few miles I caught up to some people.  That kind of made me feel good and gave me some motivation even if I thought my legs would fall off.  I chatted up one guy and said "I'd rather be running a half marathon right now" to which he replied, "You seem to be doing fine, you're quite conversational!"  Guess maybe he was the poor guy behind me that I didn't know about....

I passed him a little later and then passed a girl with 29 on her calf.  If you don't know, they write your age on your right calf, why I have no idea, but they do, and they did, and I was feeling like hot shit when I caught up to her.

She was HILARIOUS!  She's dating a triathlete who kind of made her start doing this stuff, I figure it must be true love and they'll eventually get married and breed a clad of Ironman children, after all who would willingly sign up for this for a dude (or a chick) and go through with it if it wasn't for love.  Or good sex. Whatever.  They'll get married, that's all I'm saying.

We were talking about running pace and she asked how fast I planned to run, I said normally 9 minute miles but after this brutal climb I'm not sure my legs will move.  She said she would run 11s and would just see me at the BBQ. 

I asked if there was beer and she said no, but she did chug one before she started the race.  I like this girl, even if she is 29 and has a real bike.  NOTE TO SELF: maybe a quick shot of something might ease my nerves?  Good plan.

She talked me down (actually up) the final hill until we rounded the "dismount" section and I never saw her again.

 

Here I am slowing down to dismount.  I think I might be smiling.  The kids were there ringing their cowbells, God LOVE them.  It was a welcome sight.  The lady behind me at the cone was the liar liar pants on fire who told me about the "rolling hills" and the upcoming "trail run" that was on a wide path with no roots or ruts.....


My transition from bike to run was a snap.  Threw my bike on the rack, removed helmet & glasses, found the gum & lip balm (thank GOD) and took off on the run.

The run part was very much undersold as an easy little trail run, wide, compact dirt, no ruts or roots.  Again, I call bullshit.  Holy crap, 90% was a one runner path. I started singing again, composing a new song titled "What the F-k was I thinking" and I sang it through most of the run, much to the delight of others, who I tend to think were in 100% agreement with my feelings at that moment.

I passed a couple runners here and there and I saw that I was going to finish, possibly, in 1:10 if I put the pedal to the medal.  I started out at a 6:30 pace on the run (OMFG cuz I NEVER run that fast) as apparently you tend to go faster off the bike not because you can (your legs feel like tree trunks) but because you're used to flying at high speed and your brain has to adjust.

I did settle in to a more realistic pace as I hill climbed the trails!  But then I floored it, hoping to see 59:59 on my watch as I finished.  It was 59:45 when I passed through the finish line.  I new it was about 10 minutes on the swim including transition which my husband thankfully clocked for me.  I was right on the money, 1 hour, ten minutes, and it. was. awesome.

 Nothing but smiles!

There I am, Little House on the Prairie braids and skinny little legs powering through the finish at a 7:45 pace no less.  I ran 2 miles in sub 8s after putting my body through all that other stuff.  Can't believe it. 

My fuel plan was great, my hydration plan worked, my training is spot on and even though I'm a mental case, I can't wait to do it again, in the real sprint: 1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike and 5K run on August 3.

One more little side note, I realized this morning that my breast cancer survivor clock started one year ago today.  ONE. YEAR.  And I've learned a lot about myself this past year, and more importantly how much my family means to me. 

Even though this was a practice event, I'm so grateful that they were there, and that they always have been, no matter what torture my body endures: surgery, racing, more surgery, more racing.  The best piece of advice I got for this event was from my husband (and, well Dori in Finding Nemo):  Just keep swimming.  From here on out, that's what I'm going to do.

-Maude