Puking: The Good and The Bad

I think I've stated before that I swam prior to my relatively recent foray into triathlon. For many years growing up I wore a back brace 23 hours a day - if I was in the water, with its reduced gravity, I got an extra hour. A bonus. Any actual swimming time counted as exercise, which didn't even count toward the extra hour. Double bonus.

Until high school I only took advantage of this exercise hour in the summer - swimming on the local pool's swim team. Starting freshman year, I began swimming through most of the fall and winter. I was by no means fast, but I was reliable, generally for a third place finish. Sometimes fourth. I helped fill the lanes and became comfortable in the water. I liked the quiet punctuated with inter-set gossip. And it was a sport that didn't require coordination of the eye hand variety. Triple bonus.

Fast forward to my recent foray into triathlon. I was nervous jumping into the pool having not swam a lap essentially since college when I would occasionally visit the University's pool. My return to the chlorine was far from triumphant - I was horribly out of shape and had no speed, but I knew what I was doing. The mechanics were rusty but there. I'm not sure my triathlon career would have lasted this long if I was picking up swimming from scratch.

And, for the past 2-3 years, as I've continued to practice and read the TI book and drill, drill, drill, the kinks of worked themselves out, and while I'm sure that if I actually saw my stroke I'd be horrified, it at least feels good. Smooth. Fluid. And I still look forward to the quiet of the black line (almost as much as I miss the inter-set gossip, but alas, my town is lacking in non-NCAA caliber master's teams).

In addition to working out the kinks, I've apparently built up some speed.

Liz occasionally has us do "swim tests" which consist of 10 100s with 10 seconds rest between each. You time yourself for the whole set, subtract 90 seconds from that time (for the rest) and dived by 10 to get your base pace (or something like that) per 100.

My first swim test was over a year ago and it was fine - acceptable to me.

My second swim test was this past December - almost exactly one year after the first test and in that year I dropped 30 seconds off of my total time or 3 seconds per 100. To a normal person, 3 seconds is nothing. But, to a swimmer, 3 seconds per 100 is a fair to good improvement to make over the course of a year.

After my second swim test, I did a timed 500. The 500 used to be my second favorite event when I swam in high school (my favorite was the 200) and I REALLY wish I knew what my best time was from back in the day. But, since it was from the dark ages, before everything was electronic, I suspect I'll never know. Anyway, for the timed 500, my average time per 100 was the same as my average time per 100 for the test which was ... good to very good. Because, while the timed 500 is (obviously) only half as long, there is no rest. I was please. Very pleased. And curious.

And then, this month, we re-tested. I saw the test on the schedule in the middle of a week in the middle of our craptastic winter and I was, in a sick, sick way, looking forward to it. I was actually a bit sleepless the night before the test - I had intended to do it in the morning but that plan was foiled by snow that would have made the trip to and from the pool too long for a pre-work workout. I worried that my plan to reschedule in the evening would be foiled by ice, but mother nature cooperated and I started the workout just before 8 pm.

I started the warm-up and almost bailed on the test. My arms were heavy, my legs were tired I worried that I hadn't waited a full hour since eating my banana, I worried that I hadn't eaten enough through out the day ... was I feeling light headed? I decided I was just worried about the degree to which I would be crushed if I hadn't gotten at least a little bit faster in the month since my last test and decided to just do it.

I almost bailed after the first 100 - I thought I was going to puke or wet my pants, but then I realized that I had swam those laps in a time 15 seconds faster than the base pace from my previous test. I chalked it up to that and continued a bit more controlled. The test is sort of a mind game to me - the first 100 always feels good until I stop and want to die. I'm 'fresh' so I go out too fast and then reign it in a bit for #2, which is better. On #3 I focus on the fact that I'll be half way done in 2 more 100s. #4 is all about survival and #5 means I'm half way done - I've made it that far so I can finish. #6 is super exciting because when its over I'm over half way done. #7 is the hardest but #8 isn't too bad to get through, because after that there are only 2 100s left! #9 is the light at the end of the tunnel, its okay to kick a little harder. And then #10 is all out, breathing less, pulling faster and stopping the watch while trying to get in as much air as possible and feeling like I'm going to puke. Its a good almost puking feeling though.

I looked at my time and knew it was faster than the test one month ago, which was good. But subtracting 90 seconds and dividing by 10 is hard with an oxygen deficit. I was unwilling to get too excited about the improvement until I got back to the locker room where my phone has a calculator.

I took a few more breaths and prepared for my cool down. While doing so I noticed the creepy guy. The creepy guy is an overweight, older, hairy man who I see when I swim at night or on the weekends. My pool is in a gym in a condo complex and right off the pool is a sauna and a steam room. The pool deck is kept warm and surrounded by lounge chairs so some people come to the pool just to steam and, well, lounge. I think creepy guy lives in the building and he seems to come to lounge most nights. He showers, but never gets in the pool, he saunas and then sits in a lounge chair and I always think he's watching me. But I convinced myself that he wasn't watching ... he was just watching the pool where I happened to be. Plus, I'm pretty generic looking in cap and goggles - could he really know it was me from one day to the next?

Apparently, yes.

After my cool down I went to grab my towel and he spoke. To me. I was SO OFF GUARD. I asked him to repeat himself and he said ... "I see you here swimming alot. Did you swim in college?"

And for the second time in my 1 hour workout I felt like puking. But this time, not in a good way.

ANYWAY, back in the locker room, I did the math on my phone's calculator AND ... 30 seconds faster. Again. That's 3 more seconds faster per 100. 3 seconds faster in a month. That's very good to great in my book.

So yeah, I'm pleased. To say the least. I wonder when they'll ask me to be on the olympic team? He, he.

Now if only I could feel this way about riding a bike ...

Happy weekend folks. Stay warm ... the sun has to come out eventually, right?

Providence, Rhode Island Half IronMan (Part I)

Or, how I got my hat. If you look at this photo in a mirror, you'll see that is says "Finisher 2008."

So now we know how this story ends.

If you want to know more you can keep reading. I'm not usually a two post race report girl, but I just swam/biked/ran for 70.3 miles. I have a lot to say and I'm tired. Give me a break;)

Two Days Out

Yes, set up for this was a two day affair. Growing up friend, C, had graciously agreed to escort me on this adventure and we started the morning with a yummy local breakfast. We then headed out, sat in traffic and landed at the convention center where I registered seamlessly and bought some salt tabs*, a sports bra to match my awesome racing top and a race tee-shirt (which I was careful to ensure did not say 'finisher'). We checked into our better than the Extended Stay America accommodations, headed out for a quick dinner and were in bed early.

One Day Out

Saturday was the day that the logistics of a point to point race became apparent. I headed out early for the race meeting which reminded me of a grad school class ... lots of questions, many of them inane. After breakfast we headed to T1 to check in the bikes. More traffic. But we got there and I rode around the parking lot a bit to make sure everything was working. Also ran around the parking lot a bit to make sure everything was working. Not the full prescribed pre-race brick but more than enough for me and both the bike and the legs appeared to be in working order. Checked in the bike (got the tires professionally pumped and decided that was more then sufficient than self-pumping on race morning) and checked out the water (looked calm).

Drove the race course back to town and it took FOREVER but looked manageable. I've had some super hilly early races and was not intimidated by any of the hills - the distance maybe, but not any one hill. Back in town we ditched the car with the valet (the VALET) and went to T2 to check in bike gear. Another early dinner and I was home by 7. Decided to shower and was in my pjs contemplating renting a movie when the phone rang and ...

... someone had broken into my car. Yes, the car I had just valet parked. The situation was actually handled very well and it appears that it will all work out ok, BUT, not what I needed to deal with. And thank goodness C was with me. She spent most of race morning getting us a rental car etc. A true lifesaver.

After all that I went to bed for real around 10.

The Big Day

Pre-Race

3 am came early. 3 am is early. But I felt remarkably good. I ate my oatmeal and got ready largely in the bathroom (I had set everything up in there so as not to disturb C) and was out the door in time to get on the bus that would take us to the start.

The line for the bus was long, but moved pretty quickly and at that point, there wasn't much other choice. I was alone and mostly just listened to conversations and observed a few things:

1. Before waiting in line for the bus, you should make sure to put on the t-shirt from the hardest race you've ever done. Seriously, I saw more Boston and IM tee-shirts waiting in line for that bus than ever before in my life. I was wearing a plain tee, thankfully because I might have been openly mocked for my measly olympic distance shirts.

2. If you're not going to abide by rule (1) getting on the bus in ONLY YOUR BATHING SUIT AND FLIP FLOPS is apparently an acceptable alternative (if you're a girl, I thankfully saw no guys doing this). Enough said.

3. Pretty much everyone is talking about whether or not they have pooped. Its ok. Don't be shy.

4. If you find yourself having to take a bus solo to your longest race ever YOU WILL FIND IT INTIMIDATING. Keep telling yourself 'you belong'. It may or not be true and you may or may not believe it, but its the only thing that might, maybe help. It will help more if you say/think this while focusing on the least athletic person you can find (particularly if this person is wearing ... shutter ... street clothes).

The bus safely shuttled us to transition where there wasn't all that much to do since my bike was already there and it was a 'clean' transition - which meant that unless you were physically in transition all of your belongings needed to be on your bike or in a designated bag. I prepared my nutrition, sun-screened up, peed twice and stood around telling myself I belonged. The only familiar face I saw was Liz's husband - I felt kind of like giving him a big hug because I was a bit lonely and full of nervous chatter. But then I realized that while I recognized him (sort of from his blog and from the fact that he already had his race belt on) he has NO IDEA who I am and is super fast and might not want to be seen talking to (much less being hugged by) some random girl with a likely maladjusted road bike and a bright floral racing top. That and I remembered I don't like hugging random people (except, apparently, when I am desperately lonely pre-race).

Eventually I wandered down to the beach and realized that yesterday's calm water had developed waves. Not that big and given the protected nature of the cove they couldn't be that strong, but they would be a small factor. After a quick warm up mostly to make sure that the waves weren't that strong (they were stronger than I thought, but totally not scary) I wandered over to the start (my pre-race consisted of a lot of wandering while trying not to look like I was wandering) and picked out Liz! She really is the cutest and when the gun for her wave went off she danced right into that water and started swimming RIGHT AWAY with this beautifully aggressive swim stroke (I loved watching what I could of the olympic swimming trials because their technique to me is like ballet) and for at least her first few strokes Liz looked awesome. And then she totally got hit by a wave and I got nervous and wandered off (but she ultimately did an awesome job and everyone got hit by that wave, its just that she's little and I have that protective life-guarding instinct ...).

The F 30-35 group was corralled. We watched some guy get 10 feet into the water, freak out by a wave and call it a day. It was sad and odd all at the same time. And then faster than I would have thought, we were off.

The Swim

I dilly-dallied a bit getting into the water because I'd rather swim over/around than be swum over. I should have gotten right in there. But once I did get in there it wasn't that bad. 8 yellow buoys, turn at the orange, turn at the orange, 8 yellow buoys home. I told myself that by the 2nd buoy the water would be calm. That was a lie. But it wasn't rough. It was just up and down, up and down. Made me regret a bit the combos I ate that morning (yeah, don't ask - combos and oatmeal, what can I say?). But I was at all times making progress forward (not stopping to look around and/or freak out) and because the buoys were to the left and I breath left I did not have any issues swimming off course like in previous tris. On the way there I swam around a few people, got clobbered once when the guys in the wave behind us caught us (and then I drafted off of who I thought was the clobberer for what seemed like a bit but was probably 10 seconds and it rocked - might be worth my fear of too much swim contact to find some fast feet to hold onto) and got a face full of seaweed once (terrifying) and at the first buoy almost headed out to sea due to my failure to site (I think this is how I get so off course in multi-turn swims, I need to make sure I have actually TURNED before swimming off). On the way back the waves pushed us and 42 minutes and 45 second later I was done. And it was fine. I feel a bit bad saying that because a bunch of people have mentioned that it was hard ... and sure, it wasn't easy, but it also wasn't 54 degrees and it could have been a lot rougher. A lot. Like my practice swim with the rip tide. I'm just saying. I'm not fast, but I was impressed by my fitness (I could have swam forever) which maybe means I should just go faster and then I would think it was harder, but for now, I keep coming back to "it wasn't that bad."

*Liz introduced me to the idea of salt tabs a few days before the race. Which was fine, I like salt and I could put the tab on my tongue and let it dissolve. Ha! Not sure why I thought you would just let them dissolve on your tongue ... you have to swallow these BIG pills. While on your bike. If you've ever seen me take, say, an advil, you know that it is a process that involves a lot of water and the pill placed carefully in just the right place. This was going to be the end of my race - choking and dying on the bike. But then I was told I could dissolve them in my water bottle and all was well again.

Things I don't want to be when I grow up

1.  A water polo player.

2.  A mermaid.

Okay.  But why come to this realization now, you ask?  

Well, first, last Saturday my swimming workout called for 3,350 yards*, 600 of which were "head up swimming, aka water-polo swimming."  Doesn't sound too bad.  I mean many people out there swim with their heads up regularly and water polo players do it while trying to throw and catch and avoid getting the crap beat out of them.  Well, you want to know something?  These people?  They're on crack.  That stuff is SO hard.  Seriously.  I was huffing and puffing and not going very fast and had to talk myself into just ONE MORE FIFTY every single time.  But I did it and realized that yeah, water polo?  Not in my future.  And, I also realized that there is a little muscle or ligament or something in the back of your head where your head meets your neck, and water polo swimming makes it hurt1

Then, the next Monday (that would be two days after the epic Saturday swim, for those of you keeping track at home), my workout called for 300 yards of cross legged swimming.  This might not sound that hard (it didn't sound that hard to me ... could it really be that different than pulling) WELL let me tell you.  That shit is hard.  My legs were at a 90 degree angle to my body and I really thought I was just going to sink.  Straight down to the bottom of the pool.  It made me feel for those people (ahem, dave) that are prone to sinking.  It makes swimming a lot harder.  And with that I realized, that I'd be a really bad, BAD, mermaid.

*Potentially the furthest I've ever swim, and definitely the furthest I've gone since sometime in HS.  ROCKstar;)