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.

July 28 Triathlon, I Will Rock You (or At Least Show Up)

The past few tri seasons just have not been ideal:

2010: Recovering from pneumonia is not a good way to enter a training season. But, I still managed to finish Chicago Triathlon. Despite, the chest cold, asthma attack, and 20-min. stint in the medical tent, I had a better time than healthy people in my wave -- and still came in 17 of 219 for swimming in my age group. 

2011: Thanks to the wedding and my dad's health, there wasn't a lot of time to train. Yet I had my best tri ever at Pleasant Prairie, coming in with a PR on a beautiful day. I needed it. That said, I couldn't get in a second race -- just too busy, and not willing to risk skidding off my bike 1.5 weeks before my wedding.

2012: I can't say that my April ankle sprain completely derailed my training because I was able to spin (mostly), but it did sideline me from running for 2 months. OH, and breaking my arm Memorial Day weekend did not help matters either.

Now that I am just getting back to running, swimming, and cycling (I think -- I was just about to get back on the trail...) I have a head cold. The South Shore Tri is two weeks away. I'll be there, but I just keep thinking: it's not as bad as I came into the race in 2010.

If I've proven anything, it's that I'll still show up. I'll get you, triathlon, just you wait.

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.

I Will Tri This Year -- Maybe

It's been a full year since my triathlon training went haywire because of the Great Sickness of 2010. I could link to it but honestly don't feel like digging up the pneumonia-filled memories that plagued my life and my blog for several months.

Anyway, when I became sick, I had to recover and get my lungs back up to speed. Even after a few months I wasn't a sure thing, and my triathlon last August was pretty miserable: after a great swim my asthma kicked in -- likely because of the chest cold I had fought the week before -- and I ended up walking/trotting the run and promptly getting escorted to the medic tent when I crossed the finish line.

Prior to that, I full out quit a race in the middle of it because I just didn't want to race.

I haven't been excited about triathlons.

So it kinda surprised me and Brian when I signed up for a triathlon I swore I'd never do again, Pleasant Prairie.

I realized I'm already practicing three sports in my workout routine and have accepted, because I"m not really training, my time won't be as good. And that's OK. Admittedly, I also wanted to make sure I kept a part of "me" -- people know me for triathlons now! -- while I did all this wedding stuff. My part time job is the wedding, but I don't want it to completely define me this year.

Part of me signed up because I have a couple friends doing their first tris this year. A big part of me chose that race because it's at the end of June, which still gives me a couple months to heal before the wedding in case anything happens (knock on wood). And ultimately, I just don't want to skip a year of tri. They say you can call yourself a triathlete as long as you do one tri a year. Well, I'm fulfilling that requirement.

I also want the T-shirt.

You might be wondering why I hate the Pleasant Prairie race. My main gripe is the horrible swim conditions. Sure, it's in "beautiful Lake Andrea" which is "warm and spring-fed." But the lanes are poorly marked,  causing swimmers from two directions to collide. You also race into the sun. If you haven't raced into the sun during morning hours, while wearing goggles and while dodging swimmers from the other direction coming at you, you're missing a whole new ballgame. 

I also didn't like the parking situation or the food, but whatever. It's a triathlon that's placed perfectly according to my wedding schedule. I'm in!

(The "maybe" component to my headline is my recognizing that I just might not mentally want to do it. My rule is it has to be fun, and if it's not, screw it.)

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!

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.

90% Decided on the Olympic Distance Tri

It's been a week since I resumed my workout routine, and I'm already sore. I'm also almost done convincing myself to commit to an Olympic-distance triathlon, which is double the distance I usually race.  Considering my bad knees, it would be a huge accomplishment for me.

Here's my reasoning: I've already done an aquabike (Olympic distance swim and bike) and just need to nail down the 6-mile run. That's it! I can do a 5k (3.1 miles) now, but here's the catch: I have great days and really sucky days. Some days I'm flying and feel great afterward; other days, I have to stop 10 min. into it b/c of the pain. And if I do get solid run in, the recovery is iffy, too: sometimes I'm totally fine and can do a heavy lower-body workout again after a day of rest without problems. Other times, I might be able to continue to work out but will have significant knee pain for several days -- or a week -- after.

That's where I'm at after this past weekend. Because of my Olympic distance dreams, I jumped back into working out by incorporating a run into my week, so I can see how it feels to regularly jog (the past two seasons I basically winged it on race days). I've figured out that I'm much more successful and pain-free if I run when my legs are well-warmed up, either after biking or swimming or at the end of the day, so that's what I did on Sunday. (Icing, taking Aleve and massaging/stretching my muscles well is a given.) But lo and behold, pain. I squeaked out 3.2 miles in 32 min., which I'm really appreciative of being able to do, but I was in pain and basically kept going until the adrenaline covered up the pain. That's how I got to where I'm at now, so it's not a practice I want to keep up. (For the concerned friends out there, just know that if the pain doesn't go away, I do stop. It ain't worth ruining my knees entirely).

So that's where I'm at: the test-phase. Perhaps I should see a running or tri coach...

***

By the way, being back at the gym is great. I really like seeing the people I've come to look forward to in the mornings, and it feels good to slowly build up to where I was at the end of August. That said, I'm not breaking any records. I swam much more slowly today, barely getting up to 70 percent of my heart rate, and really tried to focus on my stroke. I did a few laps of the breast stroke and backstroke -- I stick to freestyle normally -- to shake things up and didn't worry about my calories (300 burned during the same time I'd normally do 400). I'll kick it into higher gear in November or maybe the coming weeks, but for now, this is good.

Glimpse into Transition Area

Ever hear a triathlete talk about trying to improve their transition time? Or never heard the word transition in context of a triathlon to begin with? Here's a shot of the transition area -- post race -- of the Chicago Triathlon, which is pretty much the largest you're ever gonna get (9,000 people registered this year; by comparison, popular local races have about 600, 1,000 or 3,000).

"Chicago" was my first triathlon ever. These rows of bikes freaked the shit out of me before the race, and I wasn't particularly fond of them during the race either. I vowed to never do Chicago again (although for more reasons than that). Now it's one of my favorites.

Yours truly navigating Bangs' Lake Multisport Fesitval (I did the aquabike)

Transition is the place where triathletes go in between each leg of the race. It's where you throw your wetsuit after the swim and collect your bike and gear, and it's where you dump your bike gear and pick up your running shoes. No matter how big the race, transition always looks the same: rows and rows of bikes squeezed in like sardines.

Before the race -- usually before the sun rises -- you get to transition, find a place for your bike, and set up your gear around your tires. The entire space is not more than 2 feet wide.

So yes, everyone's gear -- thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars worth of equipment -- is all in one place. Pretty nuts, but the triathlete community is a safe one. Hopefully, it'll stay that way for a long time (some of you might recall my bad experience. I'm the lone example with bad luck, so why tell it and scare everyone off?).

Another Season Down, Almost Injury-Free

I found out today that I have ulnar neuritis. The name sounds a lot worse than it is, but basically the nerve that runs on the outside of my arm from my elbow to wrist has been aggravated, and I need to rest it. It's a common sport injury from tennis, cycling and swimming. I do two of the three.

The good news is that it isn't painful, per se, but it does make the top of my wrist, fingers and forearm tingle and ache. When you're a writer like me or finishing up a triathlon season, like I was when the problem started, it's hard to rest it.

The timing is good, b/c I go easy in September, but it's bad b/c I'd really like to be able to get outside more for fun rather than just quit altogether. I don't have to go cold turkey, but if I want to jump back into a routine in October, I need to lay off. I need exercise to keep me happy, so this'll be a challenge.

Most athletes get injuries of some sort much worse than mine, and I'm amazed that they're able to push as hard as they do until something does pop up. I don't consider myself a die-hard athelete. I do work out regularly and push myself, but I'm not going hard-core distances. I'm above the casual athelete but not much more serious.

I feel like as soon as I get into something and push myself, my body reminds me that it's just not cut out for going hard. When I got into running faster and farther -- up to 5 miles regularly -- that's when my knees freaked out. Even physical therapy and strengthening my muscles didn't cure me enough. I basically can run 3 miles with minimal pain.

When I cycle, I'm cardiovascularly able to go farther than I do. But then my knees kick in and remind it's time to take it easy.

If I swim too much, no matter how much or what variety of stretching I do, I start to get muscle damage.

So I feel stuck in this range, with improvement in going harder but for shorter periods, or going longer but not as hard. Can't do both. I'd love to be able to train for an Olympic Distance triathlon, but considering the small increments I'm able to push myself, it seems like it would be more painful than fun. And it's always supposed to be fun, right?

But I'll try! I'll keep at it. And in the meantime, I'll rest up. Gotta listen to my body to stay injury-free.

Time for a Run

It's been four days since I finished my last triathlon of the season, and I need exercise.

I vowed I'd take a break.

I promised to let my body heal.

I'm going for a run.

The Eating Commences!

Some people worry about gaining weight over the holidays. For me, I fear the pounds of September.

As of today, I'm no longer working out on a set schedule and won't be working out, period, for at least a couple weeks -- it's part of my body's recovery period after my last race of the season (Sunday's Chicago Triathlon -- see post-race party celebratory burger at right). That means I have to get used to eating less because I'll be burning fewer calories, all while wanting to indulge because of several key end-of-summer events: my boyfriend, Brian's, birthday; his brother's birthday; a family Labor Day weekend filled with mayonaise and cream cheese-based dips; my birthday; and a weekend away with friends in Michigan. Did I mention we're all foodies? When we eat, we do it right.

I'm aiming to gain no more than 2 pounds this month. The challenge is on!

Race Season's Over. Now What?

Each race day, I think to myself, Why I am doing this? This isn't fun. I'm not even competitive.

It's usually around 4 a.m. , when I have to wake up to make sure I arrive with enough time to set up my gear in transition. It's cold out, even in the summer. It's dark. I'm tired. And the thought of jumping in a lake, or hopping on a bike, or doing a 5k -- all to a stopwatch! -- is the last thing I want to do. I truly am not a competitive person until the heat-of-the-moment, so each month I spend training I question why I'm devoting so much time to a race in the first place. Heck, even in the heat of the moment I can't say that it's entirely fun.

Yesterday was the last race of my 2009 season, and I actually had fun, which is why I'm bummed it's over and leaves me question, now what? I wasn't as nervous as I normally am, and when I got in the water to find the 63 degree temp felt a helluva lot better than the 58 degree Lake Michigan temps I'm used to, I was able to get into it and even smiled to myself. There was chop, but I crawled and shot past the others (men, actually!) in my wave.

There was a 20 m.p.h. headwind on the bike that I could tell was destroying my hopes of beating my personal best record -- not the makings of "fun"! -- but I had a good view and knew I was doing my best.

I even stopped paying attention to how many people passed me on the run, my weakest leg. Despite excelling at the swim and bike, I get crushed at the run each time, which is a real downer when you pass or even fly by others in the swim and bike. But yesterday, I didn't care I was the slow poke. I was having too much fun.

I work out 5-6 days a week, four of them at 5 a.m. It can be kinda stressful, but once my last race of the season is over (this year, the Chicago Triathlon), I head into the month of September to recover. I'll eat what I want, toodle around on my bike instead of speed, switch to a slower stroke in the pool -- if I go at all -- and maybe do some yoga. But nothing else. And certainly not at 5 a.m.

Which leaves me to wonder: what now? Triathletes are a committed bunch, and I thrive on that goal and routine. I might have a goal -- to recover -- but it's not easy to shake a mindset of 10 1/2 months.

I'll survive, but it'll be weird. We'll see.