A Tale of Two Races - Interlude

Random Training
(or lack thereof)
Up and Down the Eastern Seaboard
(ie, Northern NJ and Massachusetts, I'm not really sure what a seaboard is)

circa September 2010

Between T-Man and the second race in this two race tale, I was supposed to rest for a week and then transition directly into marathon training. When I threw in a come back race I didn't really deviate from that plan.

Thus in the one month between the race in which I almost quit triathlon, and my comeback race I rode my bike 4 times (one of those times was the hybrid bike at the beach and two of those times were "easy spins" on the gym bike).

So that is one bike ride on a road bike between races. And that ride?

Well, I had planned to travel to the race site early one Saturday with a random girl I met on the internet (sort of - the triathlon club message board) and pre-ride the course. We planned and discussed all week and then the Friday before the Saturday ride I left work with a fever.

A smart person would have bailed. Note: I never claimed to be smart.

I took advil, napped, took more advil, ate dinner, took more advil, went back to bed, woke up and took more advil and drove with the random girl out to the race site. I might have taken more advil when we arrived. The night before this advil fueled adventure we realized that there was an organized course preview this day so we also had the opportunity to preview the swim course.

So what I'm saying is that I swam an open water mile and then rode my bike for 25 miles most likely with a fever that was only held at bay by the copious amounts of advil I had consumed in the preceding 18 hours. I survived, but barely.

This race was all uphill. There were tons of steep, 4 mph, ifIgoanyslowerI'lltoppleoverbutIdon'tknowifIcankeepupthispacebutI'malreadygoingtooslow-

toclipoutsoI'mprettymuchscrewedisthereanicepatchofgrasstolandin

slow. And when we weren't dealing with that ... false flats. The course started and ended in the same place so there were obviously also some downhills but they were the white knuckle feather the breaks and try not to die sort of downhills - the sort of downhills on which, if you're me, you can never make up enough speed to make up for the slow, slow, slow uphills!

Honestly, I can't imagine how the people the encountered this for the first time on the day of the race handled it.

Somehow, the day after this adventure, I managed to run 19 miles. I'm still amazed that I survived that weekend. But I did survive and I threw in one extra swim (for a total of 4 bike rides and 2 swims for those keeping track at home) and then headed to the race for real ...

One weekend in August

found this in the drafts ...

My mother has tiny, tiny feet and she claims that they used to be smaller - that while she was pregnant with me, her they grew half a size. Right before I graduated from grad school my feet grew half a size. And I assure you I was not pregnant. This leads me to believe that her feet would have grown that year regardless.

This summer, I feel like I've been nesting. I've done my share of travelling but sometimes, when Friday rolls around, I just want to relax, eat sushi, watch Friday Night Lights and follow that up with a mellow weekend at home enjoying August in the city with half the population at the beach. I can still assure you I'm not pregnant which makes me wonder if sometimes everyone needs to nest, regroup and then emerge back into the craziness.

Anyway, this nesting (or, if you don't buy into my theories above, staying at home and being anti-social) has left me with plenty of weekend time for training which is good because I have a half IM coming up. Two weekends ago I had volunteered to lead our club's less aggressive ride and woke up in plenty of time to pump up my tires and fill up my bottles. Plenty of time until the tire valve broke and I wound up needing to do a quick tire change and, unfortunately for me, "quick tire change" isn't really in my repertoire. I notified the group to head out without me - they offered to come help me, but I was too frazzled and knew that there probably weren't any less aggressive people there waiting to be led - and I took my time tire changing and left about 30 minutes late. This would have been fine but somewhere in the madness I ate like half a granola bar for my entire pre-long ride breakfast. If you've ever wondered if the pre-race/ride meal is really important, I'm here to tell you that it is!

I was rather starving in the middle of my ride (at which point I hate some pretzels) and in the middle of my run (at which point I stopped running and went home and inhaled some eggs and waffles) but I did get in a 4 hour ride 25 minute run all solo and was quite proud of myself. The first long, long solo ride of the year always freaks me out a bit and this year, this was the long, long solo ride. After eating I rested and headed down to the beach to meet some friends (b/c nesting or not you can't be reclusive all the time) and amazed them with the amount of food I ate before I declared myself comfortably full. I then told them about my 60 mile ride/2+ mile run and I think they found that more amazing then the post ride food.

After a fun night out I got up the next day, ate some breakfast (having learned my lesson) and headed out for a run. I told my friends I'd be gone for awhile but didn't let on as to distance. Pretty much as soon as I left it started pouring but it was kind of nice because it scared all of the people away and I had the roads to myself and I ran and ran and ran and jumped through puddles and wrapped my iphone in a garbage bag which kept it dry for 14 miles! And with that marathon training commenced.

Probably as close to the perfect combination of reclusive athleticism and summer fun as I'm going to get ...

2 days. 150 miles.

Given the number of times in the first 12 hours of my epic 150 mile weekend that I thought about not doing the ride, it is rather amazing that I can preface this story with ... this was so.much.fun! And I want to do it again! But, once I tell you about it, you will think I'm insane ...

Sitting at work on Friday, I really couldn't get my head around the fact that I was driving to Boston that night. By myself. I almost forgot to print directions and when I got home after work to collect my bike I sat on my couch and thought about just staying home. I didn't. I packed up the car and 15 miles into the 200 mile trip there was a detour. And traffic. And I almost turned back. But I didn't.

And eventually, 4 hours later I was in Quincy and could not find the hotel. I was so close but I just kept missing the proper turn - at 10 pm on a Friday night though I did not consider turning back. I eventually found the hotel and there were no parking spots. Seriously? Really? I eventually found some staff parking and in an effort to get everything packed up and into the hotel in one trip I spilled a bottle of water in my purse - under normal circumstances this would have been nothing more than an annoyance but it almost ruined my weekend.

An hour later after I was checked in, had made a few phone calls, sent a few texts, checked facebook etc. I went to charge my iphone and realized that the charger was wet and ... would not charge. My battery was LOW so I emailed the Boston people I knew that were doing the race and begging for an extra charger ....

I woke up early the next morning and read one email that said an extra charger had been packed when ... my phone died. Awesome.

I gathered up my stuff and headed out giving myself 45 minutes to travel 6 miles and get breakfast. Unfortunately the last mile of that trip took 1 hour - and that was without a breakfast stop. I parked when the ride should have started. Fortunately, it was delayed. I checked in, grabbed 1/4 of a bagel and a shot of coffee and could not find my team. And I had no phone. I had to put my luggage on the luggage truck but I had a decision to make: keep the luggage and head home or check the luggage and risk not finding anyone I knew until the first night's stop (at best).

I soldiered on and found the group with seconds to spare. Literally. Things were going ok - I knew I wouldn't be able to keep up with the faster group if I had any hope of finishing the second day so at the first rest stop I fell back with the next group which - as is typical of my life - was mostly couples. As we approached the second rest stop I decided I needed a bit of solo time to get my head together so I pressed on and ... got a flat.

I can change a flat. But its slow and I did not want the group to pass me because ... all together now ... I had no phone. So I did what I could in terms of changing the tire without really taking my eyes off the road. I basically jumped into the road to prevent the group from passing me and while I can change a tire slowly I get even slower when under pressure so I delegated what was left to one of the group. I kind of wanted to cry but he did great.

Or so I thought for 5 minutes until it went flat again. The guys in the group wanted to macgyver the tire together with a gel wrapper but I convinced them to let me SAG to the next rest stop (about 10 miles) and get professional help. Interestingly my SAG was a couple dressed in tiger costumes.

Don't ask. I didn't.

I still felt awful for taking up time and attention and wondered why I came on this journey once my friend bailed and I did briefly consider if there were any options that resulted in me going home but there weren't and the professional declared my bike to have a mere pinch flat that was remedied while I scarfed a turkey sandwich and chugged a pepsi that someone brought to me. They were awesome and once I was all set we were on our way and the experience ultimately led us to bond. Or at least led me to think we did because for the rest of the day I was much more at ease. Although I should note that in the latter half of the days there were hills. And I was promised a flat ride. Liars.

We arrived at the first night's stop, which was beautiful. I had a normal roommate who I had spent most of the day with. There were showers and food. Once I was clean I think I ate more then I've ever eaten in one sitting. And then we just sat around looking at the ocean, drinking beer, listening to music and rehashing the day. I was the flat girl - this was not a reference to my lack of boobs - by the time the story had spread up the line I had 5-7 flats.

Lights out was at 9 so we went to bed. And ... I don't think I've ever said this before, and I might not ever say this again, but I should have camped because that night in the top bunk was the hottest, most miserable, restless night sleep I've ever had. Lesson learned.

The next day was more of the same. Except there might have been more hills. And when it ended I decided to forgo the booze cruise and bus back to Boston to begin my 5 hour ride home.

Doesn't really sound fun, right? But for whatever reason it was. So much so, I'd like to do it again. Crazy.

Of course, it took me close to a week to recover and then it was the fourth and now I leave tomorrow for my favorite local but not local to me sprint triathlon!

Happy weekend peeps.