Yeah, That Tri Sucked It

I promised to let you know how I did on my last tri, and here it is, almost October. Good thing you're not on the edge of your seat.

For the record: my time was only a couple minutes slower than my average. Mentally, I felt like it was 20 min. and falling.

I can't stand doing something poorly -- whatever the reason -- when I know I can do better. The swim was actually fun, despite the fact we swam parallel to the shore in barely deep-enough water, and we had racers washing up onto us. We all basically got the same swim time and were completely exhausted, trudging out of the water slower than I've ever see racers move. I like the rush of being thrown around by waves, which is why I can call the swim fun.

The bike was good -- not amazing, but solid. I can live with that.

The run sucked it. I was winded, zapped, and -- this is my own damn fault -- bonking, meaning I ran out of energy. That has nothing to do with my health or limited training; it was complete idiocy that I forgot to have some sort of a breakfast. So that's what really got me. I was so mad at myself I started crying at times. I tried to imagine someone telling me I'd win $1 million if I went just a little faster yet could not go faster. Knowing this was a sprint triathlon and that I was going so slowly still makes my blood boil.

Am I glad I did it? Now I am. Am I going to do another tri? Of course. I just don't like excuses, and this race forced me to come up with a lot of them.

What's Going On

Here's the latest and greatest, without prose:

* Wedding plans are going swimmingly.
* I decided to do the Pleasant Prairie tri a week before the race and set a personal record of 1 hour, 23 minutes. (The perfect weather helped.)
* My posts for ASBPE on content strategy have led a few association trade pubs to interview me.
* My dad's cancer has turned aggressive. We're hoping that he can still have necessary surgery to remove his bladder now that he's had a mini-stroke -- from which he's recovering magnificently, btw.
* Food is still fun.
* I'm doing my best.

More at some point.

The 'Hot Racing Mess' Who Finished

I present to you my divisional results (Women 30-34)  for the individual legs of the sprint distance Chicago Triathlon, which took place along the lakefront yesterday. Can you guess when I had the asthma attack?

Swim (1/2 mile): 17th of 219

Bike (13.7 miles): 22nd of 219

Run (3.1 miles): 215 of 219

I guess it was a sign I wasn't in tip-top shape when, right before we started the race, a spectator heard me coughing and joked to me that I should have laid off the cigarettes the morning of the race. 

As soon as I got in the water, I could tell I couldn't inhale to full lung capacity. That said, it's really easy for me to control my breathing in swimming, so I just plowed ahead and got on a roll! The water was 72 degrees, and I had fresh arms. It felt like last year: a perfect swim. 

I passed nearly everyone in my wave and started to take on the next; by 14 minutes, 33 seconds, I was out of the water (if you look up my time, it includes the 2? 3? block run to transition area, during which I saw a few people sprint past me -- still came in 17th though). 

After transition, I hopped on my bike and dealt with the same southwest headwind both directions --a pain in the ass on any day. A quarter of the way I could tell my lack of lung strength was starting to take a toll. I was also shivering, despite guzzling water all morning and an already-warm air temperature. 

The last half of the bike race I didn't feel like I was "racing" anymore, just getting through it -- and not because of muscle fatigue, which is typical: just my lungs and that shivering thing. I began to think of quitting, which felt like a brilliant idea -- until I imagined having to tell people I quit the race. Do I listen to my body? Or am I being too sensitive and not strong enough mentally? Will I get pneumonia again if I keep stressing my lungs?

By the time I got off the bike, I felt dizzy and sauntered to my transition spot to get my run gear on, coaching myself on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Three minutes and something-seconds later (a long-ass transition time) I slowly walked to the start line of the run portion, feeling dazed. At this point, I was 98 percent of the way to giving up.

A woman saw me walking (still on the course), stepped in front of me and said, agitated, "Did you finish the race?" The look I gave her answered her question. By the time I saw Brian, maybe about a city block-length, I was taking off my race number.

The first thing I said to him was, "I don't feel good. I don't want to get pneumonia again." Then I started crying. And then I felt like a loser. 

Brian told me I could quit and he wanted me to be healthy, and getting that confirmation made me not want to quit. So, I put on a long-sleeve T-shirt he'd brought along to warm up and began walking the 3.1 miles.

Thing is, Brian wouldn't let me do it alone. He spent the next 3 miles at my side, walking or trotting with me with a backpack on, which isn't easy. He later told me it wasn't just for support but to make sure nothing happened to me, which was good, because the next 47 minutes featured me gasping for air, stopping, breathing in through my nose deeply and out through my mouth, coughing, then trying to run/trot once my breath was regulated, only to have to walk again -- a hot racing mess.

I didn't mention Brian has been fighting a cold too. What a guy... 

I picked up the pace toward the end when I saw the finish and actually had to stop short of the finish line to try to breathe. I crossed the finish line, went into full-blown attack mode, heard my dad call my name, waved to him, then was ushered by triathlon medical staff into the medic tent, where an awesome and very nice crew gave me an Albuterol treatment and oxygen.

I had an easy time -- someone finished the race and began having seizures. You can see the medic team that worked on me working on that person here.

I summarized the race in a Facebook update and got kudos from several friends, one even calling me inspirational. It's really touching, but honestly, I call it stupid more than anything. I'm glad I started the race, even if I wasn't in the greatest shape; I tried. But once the asthma kicked in full-force, I shouldn't have continued. It's not healthy! And if I grew worse, the chaos on the course could have messed up other people, too, or taken resources away from more serious cases. 

In case you're wondering, I didn't bring my inhaler because I didn't even think of it. I use inhalers temporarily when I'm fighting something like bronchitis or pneumonia, and although I should have taken one with me, just in case, I didn't even put two and two together that a chest cold from last week could trigger an asthma attack during a race. Again, stupid.

It's a race I'd rather forget; I finished almost a half hour after I normally do. Brian says he's more proud of me for finishing this race than any other. I'm trying hard to forget the time, even if I still managed to finish ahead of a lot of people who were perfectly healthy. 

There's always next year. :) 

A special shout out to:
* The medic team. So sharp and on the lookout, I have been taking their standby assistance for granted each race.
* Brian. Duh. Not only did he do a 5K with me spur-of-the-moment, but I thanked him by leaving in the medic tent his Oakley sunglasses he lent me. Sheesh. Yes, I probably could have crossed the finish line without him, but I would not have been as strong. He's there for every race I do.
* My parents, who not only came out to the race but had to watch their daughter gasping for air and disappear with doctors. They also waiting a long time while we collected my gear to drive me home.
* The random people who saw me struggling and called out my race number, cheering for me to "stay strong," "keep it up" and "walk through it." Admittedly, I was annoyed when, while coughing and heaving, some of 'em yelled, "You're lookin' good!" but that's my problem: they were trying to be nice and pry didn't even realize the irony of the cheer they chose to yell.  


And to the fellow racer who looked at me and Brian as she passed and said, VERY snarkily, as we walked, "You know you're in the middle of a triathlon, right?": 

I finished, bitch.

Race Day's Around the Corner ...

It's another gorgeous day and another opportunity to work out, but I'm holding back. I haven't worked out in a week because I've been sick. Now, I'm just about well, but considering I have the Chicago Triathlon Sunday, I can't afford a relapse and am trying to play it safe.

You generally taper yourself before a race, shortening your workouts' duration and intensity closer to the event. I'm dying to get a little something in -- I want to move! And it's stunning outside! -- but if I go harder than I should, I don't have enough time to recover before the big day.

At this point, my race -- .5 mile swim, 14 mile bike and 3.1 mile run -- will be my first workout in a week and a half. We'll see how this goes!

Perk: Two of my longest-time friends and recent triathlete converts will be racing too. I gotta show up!

I Quit A Race. Am I Un-American?

This morning was the Bangs Lake Multisport Festival, where I registered to do an aquabike --  a 1.5k swim and a 38k bike. I call it Sara's God's Gift to Racing because I don't train on the run well.

As I wrote yesterday, I was totally unprepared for the race but decided to go anyway. I even thought deeply about it, writing that I do races because of motivating factors such as my mother's health problems.

Well, that's deep 'n' shit, but I found out the real reason this morning: they're fun. I could get my health kicks doing myriad physical activities, but you don't get up at 4 a.m. and hit the water before 7 without some enjoyment in the competition and accomplishment.

Lest you get the impression I skipped through the race with a smile on my face and determination this morning, the truth is I chose to only do the swim and ... not finish the race.

GASP! I feel so un-American. Who quits a race? I should be writing about how visions of my mother in pain inspired me to grit through my own mental block and how I knew that I'd feel shitty with a big ol' DNF (did not finish) next to my name in the race results. I should tell you that the pep talks talking to my fellow-athlete friends this week worked.

To a degree they did -- after all, I did show up after weeks of doubt.

I think the decision was technically made for me before I went to Italy, when I realized how far off my training goals were and knew I'd never catch up. When I chose to order three courses at dinner for two weeks and walk around sampling gelato three times a day in lieu of swimming, biking and running (and no, my bike tour through Tuscan countryside -- a clever way of sampling wine and olive oil -- didn't count), I knew I wasn't setting myself up for success this season.

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I thought was, I don't want to do this -- not in a dreadful way, but in a I-don't-care kinda way. The only dreadful thing I could think of was trudging through a race I knew I was capable of doing better.

So why did I even show up? And why did I confirm my registration this week -- already in full-on doubt mode -- after a snafu showed I hadn't yet been charged for the race?

It's because I'm an optimist and have it engrained in me that you should never, ever quit unless it's absolutely necessary. Broken appendages. Malaria. A death in the family the day before. I can't say all the athletes I hang around are hard-core, but they fall into the give-it-your-all group. Heck, even when I say I do races for fun, part of that fun is knowing I've done what I can to put in a good showing, even if only for myself.

People who don't quit are celebrated. People who do quit? I'm guessing they generally don't talk about it unless they have one of aforementioned good excuses.

I'm actually proud of decision because I know this one race doesn't make or break me, just like this off-season of sorts doesn't ruin my chances at future success. But am I afraid a potential client or employer or athletic compadre will read this and think of me as a quitter, someone who can't get over a mental hurdle? Absolutely, even if I have a thousand reasons to defend my decision and character ("I was exhibiting signs of malaria." J/k).

On the shuttle bus to the race start, a cheerful woman sat next to me and asked, "So, are you ready?"

"Actually, no!" I replied. "I haven't really trained, so we'll see how this goes."

"Me too!" she said. "But after all, you do it for fun, right?"

Absolutely. And that's why I will NOT be hopping on that bike, I thought.

I had fun giving it my all at the end of the swim because I knew I didn't have to conserve energy or breath for the bike. I had fun looking down at my watch to see I shaved two and a half minutes off my time. And I had fun packing up my transition area knowing I didn't have to do that hilly ride!

See?  A good time was had by all.

Triathlons: Not Just Because I Want the Finisher's Medal

(No time to fix formatting ... but you can still read text below).


I'm signed up for this year's Chicago Triathlon and tomorrow's Bangs Lake Aquabike, and given this training season has gone to shit thanks to pneumonia, a crazy work schedule and yes (by my choosing), a jaunt to Europe, it's been hard to talk myself into showing up to the starting line for either.


This week's Chicago Triathlon e-newsletter update though forced me to spell out my answer. Event organizers asked for triathletes' special reasons for doing the race. Here's what I sent in:


It's easy to say I do them because they're fun or that I hold a special place in my heart for the post-race food tent (who doesn't love PB&J on white bread?). 

But what keeps me signing up and gets me to the start line -- especially during a year like this one, when I'm less than prepared -- is the thought of not having the ability to do one. 

My mom's disabled, and she couldn't do one if she wanted. There are people who don't have the money to sink into the registration or the gear, and they couldn't do one. 

I figure as long as I have the means and the basic health, I should make the most of it. After all, one day I might not have the ability, and how would I feel knowing I didn't take advantage of the opportunity when I could? 

So, contrary to the reasons I thought I was going to tough it out -- the feeling you get from crossing the finish line, knowing that I at least tried, not wasting the $$$ registration fee, the free swag, the finisher's medal (true to my Gen Y generation!) -- triathlons do have a deeper meaning for me. 

***

As for tomorrow's race, I'm going. The temperature will be in the low 90s (even in the morning), and I haven't been cycling with the necessary intensity to put in a good fight. But, this same race last year was my toughest yet most successful ever (I came in 15th of 60 overall) despite equally high temps, wind and hills I didn't expect. 

I figure if I don't finish I'll know I tried -- and hopefully, they'll let me have a PB&J sandwich too.

The Week in Bullet Points

I know I've been incommunicado; it's been a busy week. I could write a lot but will update using bullet points:

• Five hours in delays and 1 canceled flight later I'm back from Christmas in Memphis, where Santa still found me; I was welcomed with warm, open arms; and the topic of conversation among Brian's family members rotated between babies and football (it is the South). 
• We ate a lot of cheese. No vegetables or fruit -- just meat 'n' cheese grits, cheese dip, cheesey eggs and more. My healthy diet is now back on track.
  
• I finished reading both "Twilight" and "New Moon" and am going straight after work tomorrow to see "New Moon" in the theater. I am totally obsessed but feel better about reading the books because, as my friend Laura reminded me last night, the subject matter is for adults.
  
• I have a sinus infection. 
• I've heard from my Aussie friends this week and have one visiting this weekend, so I'm thrilled. He's a foodie, so we're doing Gino's East pizza on Friday, Blackbird on Saturday and Mixteco Grill on Sunday.
  
• I am officially committed to an international/Olympic distance triathlon -- registered this week. 
• I'm really looking forward to New Year's. Brian's cooking dinner for a small group of friends, and that's it. Love it. 

Here's wishing you a very happy holidays and happy new year. Let's make 2010 a good one, shall we?

The Big Olympic Distance Tri Debate

Guess what:
1) I can now do flip turns in the pool!
2) I'm now running twice a week, albeit briefly (up to a mile and a half after a swim).
3) If I want to shave about $40 off the price of the Chicago Triathlon, I have until Dec. 31 to do so -- and thus decide on Olympic distance racing versus another sprint.

The flip turns just came to me one day. I'd technially learned how to do them in college but could never get my breathing down well enough that I felt comfortable turning my body entirely upside down and breathing out. Then this weekend  -- a good 8 years after I'd been taught flip turns -- I said to myself, Sara, you're going to do a flip turn. And I practiced, and it came easily, and I kept practicing. And then I got into a rhytym where I kept 'em up. If I botched one, I'd swim back and try it again. I'm still not as efficient as my pseudo turn I'd adapted over the years, but I'll get there.

The running thing is a big step for me. I figure if I ran twice a week and added a half mile every two weeks I can def. work my way up to six miles. And if I don't have time for all that in the morning -- it would eat into my core training time -- I could do a short run during the week and a longer run on a weekend. This is all a big hope, but we'll see.

And as for the Olympic distance event, I'm nearly there and ready to commit. It's scary. There's a big jump from sprints to Olympic, and I could be finishing the race in a lot of pain. But I just keep the Bangs Lake Aquabike in my head: I did the Olympic distance swim followed by a hilly-and-windy-as-fuck 25-mile bike and felt I could still run. So throw in some training and BOOM, I'm there.

The plan: a sprint in June or July; the Aquabike in July or August (whenver it is); and the Olympic distance at Chicago.

Now I just have to hit register and we're all good.

A 5k Should Be Easier Without the Swim and Bike, Right?

Before the heat of the moment passes, I wanted to tell you about this Sunday's Run for Chocolate, which is by far one of the best races I've done in a while because of the location, organization, route, and perfect amount of chocolate. It was my first 5k since October 2006 because of the strain running has put on my knees and having to essentially ditch running. I stopped signing up for 5ks to instead "conserve" my knees for the 5ks in triathlons.

So I wasn't sure what to expect from Sunday's run. I went in realizing I didn't care about time. As we lined up, I loved not having the pressure to gut it out. I was calm and relaxed.

Of course, I spoke too soon. Brian and I took off, and I felt my adrenaline and the energy from the crowd of 12,000 people all moving down the same path propel me. I decided to push myself and not hold back -- I always have to hold back b/c of my knees, and did I really know how far I could take it? Besides, I figured, wouldn't it be a helluva lot easier to push the limits not having swam and biked first?

The good news is that I have a new personal best time for myself, 3.1 miles in 27:27, which is I think an 8:51 pace. I really pushed it toward the end, too! And it felt great. Bonus: amazing hot chocolate and the perfect portion of chocolate fondue (pictured) post-race. [Update: Not everyone had it so lucky -- especially if you ran the 15k. Read Flour Girl's account here.]

The bad news is my right knee is killing me. It's two days later, and in the pool this morning -- the three laps I did -- my knee hurt while I was swimming. It's as if all I built up -- being able to run sporadically -- has crumbled and my workout routines now affected, all because of my stupid knees. I think I do better at triathlon 5ks because my joints and muscles are completely warmed up by the time I get to the run and, at that point, I don't have it in me to go all-out, which is bad for me knees. I do the light jogs my joints will allow, and it seems to work well.

I need to rest and lay off the workout for another day, which does NOT make me happy but at least allows me the opportunity to work on all the other stuff (resume, homework, my own Web site, getting enough sleep, etc.) I need to accomplish. But it sucks to do so well and then get taken right back to injury.

I did schedule that appointment with Coach Leach I mentioned earlier, btw, and meet with him in two weeks. I wonder where I'll be then?

Marathon Spirit

The Chicago Marathon's a beautiful thing, especially when it's not 85 degrees a la 2007. I watched my first one in 2006 near the finish line and was blown away at how uplifting it was. This year, Brian and I trekked nearby to try to get a glimpse of our neighbor Marty en route to complete his first. We never saw him, but when you're watching thousands of runners fly by -- they were still flying at mile 7.5 -- spanning a wide street (Addison), it's difficult. We didn't plan as we should have either; telling him where we'd be and finding out what he'd wear would've helped.

That said, I got psyched. I'm gonna sign up for an Olympic distance triathlon for end of season -- likely the Chicago Triathlon instead of an earlier race to give me plenty of time to get my milelage up. Congrats to the marathoners out there. I have no desire to run that far, but that doesn't mean I have the ultimate respect for the accomplishment.

Pilates a Go Go

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually like pilates.

I'm surprised because I do not do well in yoga -- two totally opposite yet equally terrible yoga experiences and I swore never to go back to a class -- and pilates certainly has elements of it. But although you get the stretching and some of the poses as in yoga, there's no Sanskrit 'n' shit in pilates. There's no kum bah yah, and no talking in a soft voice, and no bowing. And thus, I'll likely be back.

My month off of working out is almost over, so I did the pilates thing and I signed up for my first run-only race -- a mere 5k -- since 2006 (it was actually three years ago this weekend at the Bucktown 5k that I met my boyfriend, Brian, and the last run-only race I've done because of my knees. But I digress!). The run also involves hot chocolate, which may or may not have anything to do with it, but basically, I'm pumped and ready to get moving again. One month off -- save for a couple runs and one 30-mile bike ride --and I feel "squishy." I'm stiff! I'm not toned! And I don't want to lose any more of my base.

This month has taught me that you can take a month off and should take a month for your body to heal and without fear of losing everything. But it's also a reminder of how quickly stiff joints and a lazy attitude can set in -- it took me about two weeks.

I'm ready to go!

***
Speaking of being ready to go, I'm toying around with the idea of doing an Olympic distance triathlon this coming season -- that's double what I'm used to. It's terrifying considering I can't train well on the run. But, I've got the stamina to do the bike and the swim (what I did in the aquabike this year), and I figure I can suck up the run. We shall see.