Tuesday morning, after work, I rushed downtown to go to my follow appointment regarding my f-o-o-t, which yes, has become a four-letter-F-word. I was so tired and a teensy bit cranky after a long shift-- a perfect way to walk into an appointment with my FAVORITE orthopaedic doctor. (I'm hoping you pick up on the sarcasm).
To keep it brief:
I was 20 minutes late (I called to let them know.. still disrespectful to be late, I know I know).
MD stumbled in and said "I'm waiting for the nurse to get my notes from last time.."
...he got impatient and then said "What'd we do with you...?"
me: "You booted me"
MD: "Ah boot." (looks for the boot on my leg, which wasn't there as I was instructed to remove it by the nurse). "No more boot then?"
me: "Noo I've been wearing it, it's here."
MD: "Oh you're still in the boot." (enter nurse w/ note which MD reads out loud.)
Heavy sigh "Well, let's re-xray." (Exit MD).
An x-ray tech came, we x-rayed, returned to the exam room. Another 20 minutes. Then MD is walking by and glances in the exam room I'm in (they keep the doors open there-- my theory is that they don't want to rooms to be STUNK UP by the exposed feet.) As he sees I'm there he pokes his head in and says "Your foot is fine," and continued walking. I went to retrieve him from the hallway. That's not a good enough answer for me. So he came into the exam room and explained that there's a small bony callous so I'm healed, re-start activity gradually blah blah blah.
Despite his lack of bed-side manner, I was elated. I would have booked it to the gym right then and there to board the treadmill, but the fact of the matter was I was exhausted and fighting to stay awake! So I put on TWO shoes (I'd brought the other one with me in anticipation of booting the boot) and went home and collapsed. Just before I fell asleep I remembered I had a war to fight with Blue Cross Blue Shield regarding their coverage of my narcolepsy drugs, so I couldn't go to sleep quite yet, but knowing that I was again bi-pedal gave me the energy I needed to fight and win that war. WooHoo.
So today I ventured down to my overcrowded gym. Last week I went at 2am because my sleep schedule is SO messed up and it was awesome. There were maybe 20 people there total, it was essentially deserted. If I had a car, I'd definitely go at the wee hours of the morning more often. But walking to the El at 2am makes me nervous. Maybe now that the Damen stop will be open it won't be so bad. Anyways-- I ran a mile today! Woohoo!. Seven minutes and twenty seconds of bliss. My foot felt fine. Honestly it was numb because of the cold trek from the El... but no pain. Maybe a whisper of a twinge, but I would be a fool to think it'd be a cake walk. I was definitely winded and I could feel the past three weeks in my legs, but any anguish brought by that was balanced with the excitement that I'm doing what I like to do again. I could have gone more than a mile, but I am proud to say that I said "NO," and allowed myself to be content with that. I did a 5 minute walk to warm up, and a 7 minute walk to cool down. I went over to the elliptical and at ten minutes... my vision went black and it sounded like I was underwater and I felt my trachea closing!!! Holy toledo if I am fainting after maybe 20 minutes of cardio, my work is more cut out for me than I anticipated! Geesh! That was weird. I think I'll chalk it up to dehydration, Lord knows I'm nourished enough to withstand 20 minutes of cardio! But I could increase my water intake... and decrease my coffee intake. Whoopsie.
All in all exciting and encouraging. I'm trying to decide if I should do a mile tomorrow or take tomorrow off. I don't think I have the fitness to complete a spinning class right now (how pathetic am I?!?!?!), so that's kinda outta the question. We'll see. I'll probably end up not since I'm working tomorrow night. I miss cardio so much it's ridiculous.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
INSOMNIA
between working the night shift and living a very sedentary life, i have developed insomnia. yes-- that is right, from narcolepsy to insomnia, even when off my drugs.
and while it blows not being able to sleep... I've gotten some stuff done. there are finally pictures on the walls of my bedroom.. and i wrote two cards... and okay well that's it, but still at least i did something. it's 5:04am... i woke up 21 hours ago and have only had one cup of coffee. I did, however zonk out for a good three hours after church. I was in a good rhythm with my sleep cycle before this whole night shift thing came up. Shoot.
I need a new planner.
I found an 8k in Washington on January 11th. 8k by January 11th is a very practical and attainable goal, and something that will help me keep my focus as I come off this whole foot thing. It'd be a 3ish hour drive from home. I think it'd be the perfect birthday weekend-- go up and stay there (I found a super cheap townhouse on Craigslist that ISN'T some creepy person renting out a room-- it's a company that does temporary housing...) I could do my run and my family and I could hit up Seattle and peruse. Seeing as how I've been saying for the past 4+ years that if I ever end up settling down, I'll settle in Seattle I think it's only prudent that I actually visit first. We'll see, convincing the potential travel buddies is always the hardest part.
and while it blows not being able to sleep... I've gotten some stuff done. there are finally pictures on the walls of my bedroom.. and i wrote two cards... and okay well that's it, but still at least i did something. it's 5:04am... i woke up 21 hours ago and have only had one cup of coffee. I did, however zonk out for a good three hours after church. I was in a good rhythm with my sleep cycle before this whole night shift thing came up. Shoot.
I need a new planner.
I found an 8k in Washington on January 11th. 8k by January 11th is a very practical and attainable goal, and something that will help me keep my focus as I come off this whole foot thing. It'd be a 3ish hour drive from home. I think it'd be the perfect birthday weekend-- go up and stay there (I found a super cheap townhouse on Craigslist that ISN'T some creepy person renting out a room-- it's a company that does temporary housing...) I could do my run and my family and I could hit up Seattle and peruse. Seeing as how I've been saying for the past 4+ years that if I ever end up settling down, I'll settle in Seattle I think it's only prudent that I actually visit first. We'll see, convincing the potential travel buddies is always the hardest part.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
...maybe..
Maybe... it's a good thing that success in running will require me to start super slow for super short distances, because the truth of the matter is, I don't have the fitness to do anything but that. As much as I WANT to go run miles upon miles until the sun goes down, I will feel victorious if I can hit the 1 mile mark without walking. I walked (hoofed) home from the grocery store (I rode the bus THERE, but couldn't bring myself to drop a full $4 for the TRANSPORTATION to/from the venue where I'd just spend more money... along the trek back I realized I should have walked there when my bag was empty as opposed to when it was filled with heavy produce..), and the mile and a half WALK left me winded and sweaty. Humbling. Upsetting. Frustrating. Yet-- oddly comforting. If I felt I had the cardio fitness to run far and fast, I would have an extra hard time sticking to a slow and steady buildup. Somehow it is good to know that no matter how badly I want to run like I used to, I can't... so in other words, I can't screw this up with my neurotic need to go faster for longer.
That, my friends, is how I have to look at it in order to have any good feelings about anything in life.
Tuesday morning (immediately after a night shift...) I venture down to Dr. Does-Nothing-But-Ruin-Lives and pray that he says 'boot-be-gone.' Heaven knows I said it a while ago. suckaaaaaaa. Then I will start to climb Everest. All in a day.
That, my friends, is how I have to look at it in order to have any good feelings about anything in life.
Tuesday morning (immediately after a night shift...) I venture down to Dr. Does-Nothing-But-Ruin-Lives and pray that he says 'boot-be-gone.' Heaven knows I said it a while ago. suckaaaaaaa. Then I will start to climb Everest. All in a day.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Mountain Climbing???
Whenever I come back to this site, I see that picture of the run leg in Accenture and think 'I cannot wait until I can look like that again.'
This injury has highlighted my vain side.
Today was the first time in a while that I felt eager to start running again. That may sound shocking, as I always preach that I looove to run blah blah blah-- so of course I'd be eager, right? Wrong. I love running when I'm in shape. I love running when I don't feel like I'm going to throw up and then faint. Now that it has been almost three whole weeks since I set (broken) foot on a treadmill, I am the most out of shape I have been...ever. A very daunting mountain is standing strongly before me, daring me to try and climb it. Having run out of my narco drugs over a week ago, my energy levels are so far down that I see the mountain and say '...maybe later.' But for some reason, today is different. I know I have to be uber cautious when I am cleared to run again and that I have to start super short and slow and very gradually work up to it. But today I felt ready to start that ascent. I guess it's a step in the right direction.. or something? We'll see if the same enthusiasm is present when I can actually do something about it.
A friend of mine texted me today saying she wants to do an Ironman (she is a former soccer freak (more than yours truly) that recently had knee surgery and was told soccer days are over.. something about the side to side motion and cartilige.. but she can still run). I said 'real smart ten days after surgery' in reply to which she said 'well not tomorrow. can I convince you do to it with me?' Duh. Of course. I still want to do a half ironman next year. I'm starting to think that TNT is my best choice. There's no way in the world I could prepare myself for something like that without the help of a program or coach. TNT is the only one that will just cost me my pride as opposed to my $$$ (or lack thereof). Asking people for money is something I'm still not interested in, but I was thinking since I have all this spare time, maybe I can get more creative in fundraising and try doing an event or something. Who knows what I'll decide, but I've gotta figure something out- sooner than later. And I need a new bike.
This injury has highlighted my vain side.
Today was the first time in a while that I felt eager to start running again. That may sound shocking, as I always preach that I looove to run blah blah blah-- so of course I'd be eager, right? Wrong. I love running when I'm in shape. I love running when I don't feel like I'm going to throw up and then faint. Now that it has been almost three whole weeks since I set (broken) foot on a treadmill, I am the most out of shape I have been...ever. A very daunting mountain is standing strongly before me, daring me to try and climb it. Having run out of my narco drugs over a week ago, my energy levels are so far down that I see the mountain and say '...maybe later.' But for some reason, today is different. I know I have to be uber cautious when I am cleared to run again and that I have to start super short and slow and very gradually work up to it. But today I felt ready to start that ascent. I guess it's a step in the right direction.. or something? We'll see if the same enthusiasm is present when I can actually do something about it.
A friend of mine texted me today saying she wants to do an Ironman (she is a former soccer freak (more than yours truly) that recently had knee surgery and was told soccer days are over.. something about the side to side motion and cartilige.. but she can still run). I said 'real smart ten days after surgery' in reply to which she said 'well not tomorrow. can I convince you do to it with me?' Duh. Of course. I still want to do a half ironman next year. I'm starting to think that TNT is my best choice. There's no way in the world I could prepare myself for something like that without the help of a program or coach. TNT is the only one that will just cost me my pride as opposed to my $$$ (or lack thereof). Asking people for money is something I'm still not interested in, but I was thinking since I have all this spare time, maybe I can get more creative in fundraising and try doing an event or something. Who knows what I'll decide, but I've gotta figure something out- sooner than later. And I need a new bike.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Firsts
These past couple of weeks have presented a lot of firsts:
*First time that I have neglected exercise for more than 2 days. Try two weeks.
*First time my patient/their family requested I not be their nurse.
*First time I 100% all around regretted my decision to stay in this city.
*First time I haven't been motivated to get up and DO anything.
*First time I've been excited to go to work-- because it's the only activity in my life.
*First time I've made online TV viewing a regular activity in my day to day life.
Post-academia isn't turning out to be what I imagined it. I rested my excitement for this stage in my life on the thought that I'd be able to work and workout-- that was all I really cared about. Now that I can't workout the way I want, I have all too much time to just sit here and realize the many other aspects of life that my plan neglected, and that I have failed to develop the life skills necessary to fulfill said aspects.
I signed up to work all of the holidays in order to avoid the inevitable lonely cloud that would hang over me if I were sitting in my freezing apartment. But not even running around the hospital trying to pretend like I know what's going on has been able to distract me from the fact that my 'situation' isn't what I want it to be/thought it would be. I know I'm the only one who has any ability/authority/power to change it, but I don't know how-- and even worse, I cannot say with confidence that even if I did know how, that I'd have the gall and desire to do it.
I am grateful for my job. Genuinely I am very grateful.
I am grateful for the (expensive) roof over my head, and even though it's an ungodly low temperature, it's warmer than outside.
I am grateful for the fact that I have room in my budget for food-- even if I can't make myself go get it from the store.
I am grateful that I have clothes to wear-- even if I put off washing them until my only other option is nakedness.
I am a very very fortunate person.
*First time that I have neglected exercise for more than 2 days. Try two weeks.
*First time my patient/their family requested I not be their nurse.
*First time I 100% all around regretted my decision to stay in this city.
*First time I haven't been motivated to get up and DO anything.
*First time I've been excited to go to work-- because it's the only activity in my life.
*First time I've made online TV viewing a regular activity in my day to day life.
Post-academia isn't turning out to be what I imagined it. I rested my excitement for this stage in my life on the thought that I'd be able to work and workout-- that was all I really cared about. Now that I can't workout the way I want, I have all too much time to just sit here and realize the many other aspects of life that my plan neglected, and that I have failed to develop the life skills necessary to fulfill said aspects.
I signed up to work all of the holidays in order to avoid the inevitable lonely cloud that would hang over me if I were sitting in my freezing apartment. But not even running around the hospital trying to pretend like I know what's going on has been able to distract me from the fact that my 'situation' isn't what I want it to be/thought it would be. I know I'm the only one who has any ability/authority/power to change it, but I don't know how-- and even worse, I cannot say with confidence that even if I did know how, that I'd have the gall and desire to do it.
I am grateful for my job. Genuinely I am very grateful.
I am grateful for the (expensive) roof over my head, and even though it's an ungodly low temperature, it's warmer than outside.
I am grateful for the fact that I have room in my budget for food-- even if I can't make myself go get it from the store.
I am grateful that I have clothes to wear-- even if I put off washing them until my only other option is nakedness.
I am a very very fortunate person.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
%)(*#$@_!
I am VERY upset.
I ventured downtown yesterday to see what is up with my foot. It has been a month since it started hurting and usually it's resolved by now. Truthfully, the day and a half before (late Sunday and Monday), it felt a lot better. I considered cancelling the appointment but didn't get around to it and there's the ridiculous 24 hour cancellation policy blah blah blah. So I went. I don't like doctors. This clown was arrogant and didn't let me tell him about my foot at all. He only wanted to most brittle skeleton of what the problem was. He was more interested in the fact that I have narcolepsy. HELLO YOU'RE AN ORTHOPAEDIC DOCTOR, FIGURE IT OUT. After the x-ray he said stress fracture (which I am still INCREDIBLY SKEPTICAL ABOUT) and said we have two options: we can boot you or cast you. I wanted to say 'screw you' and leave, but instead I sat there with my eyes bugging out and my jaw on the floor. Any voice I once had booked it out the door and I just sat there silently, thinking many things: THIS IS A MUSCULAR ISSUE I AM SURE OF IT. All I need is some PT to get it ultrasounded away and slowly re-strengthened back to normal. Honestly-- the history does not support the diagnosis: comparatively to what I have run in years past, my mileage as of late has been FAR LESS. Shamefully less. RIDICULOUSLY less. There has been essentially no 'stress' on my 5th metatarsal. If I were going to get a stress fracture I would have gotten it when I was running 50 miles a week. The thought crossed my mind at one point but I quickly came to my senses and dismissed it like any half-way intelligent individual would and SHOULD. HELLO. At some point during my catatonic state he decided boot over cast (lucky for him, I woulda REALLY snapped if he tried plastering my leg, my WORD). I remember shaking his hand (and the hand of chipper med student that was there without my permission-- whatever, I would have said yes if he asked, but it's the principle) and then they left. A nurse-- a very kind nurse, came in a few minute later as I slowly thought about returning to the land of speaking and showed me the HIDEOUS thing called a boot. Patiently she explained it. I am grateful that she gave me a small insert for my opposite shoe, as this ungodly large hunk of plastic raises me significantly higher than my shoes, so the insert will even it out a little and hopefully save my back. I remember thinking 'I hate being the patient.' The teaching she was doing was incredibly similar to what I do at work: go teach parents how to put a tube down their baby's nose so it can be fed, teach parents how to give antibiotics to their child via a central line, teach parents how to give injections to their kids... The patient (or parents) have just been dealt a life-altering diagnosis (big or small) and are trying to deal with it, get around it, change it, deny it in any way possible. It's so hard to absorb anything that is being said to you. Even if it is 'how to use the velcro on your boot.' I couldn't absorb it at all. Fortunately for me it is a rather simple contraption. Anyways. For three weeks I'm stuck with this absolutely unnecessary thing. It was supposed to be four but I lied to the rescheduling lady and said three (only when I was walking out did I regain some of my fight).
I don't know what this means. Can I take it off to ride my bike? Can I still swim? Can I spin? How am I supposed to do the leg press with this thing? 6 Pack attack with a sumo-leg? Can I take it off then? I went to work for four awful hours yesterday-- that was a treat. Try being quiet around a sleeping baby with what essentially is a club foot. I was so grumpy at work and then I got the CRAPPIEST assignment ever and of course was up for first admission which happened two minutes and thirty seconds after getting report on my other kids. Then of course the new admission needs an IV started right away and labs sent. Another nurse was kindly in there to try to help speed things along and filled the tubes with the blood and lo and be hold not long after they were sent the lab calls and says "there was not enough sample to run the test, please redraw." YOU go in there and STICK THE BABY, clown! UGH IT WAS THE WORST NIGHT EVER. AND when I got there the manager says 'hey can you stay until 11?' I said 'sure' because the only plans I had were to go home and mope. So mentally I was there for 8 hours instead of 4, then at 6 she comes up to me and says 'Nevermind you can go home at 7.' WT
F. Fine, I won't beg to stay at work, but when you have 8 hours you plan your evening very differently than if you have 4. So I was running around like a crazy lady trying to get everything done, meds given, charting completed, bags hung, rooms clean and organized then all of the sudden two of the night shift nurses were waiting for me. I HATE THAT. Usually I get everything ready, check the chart to make sure everything was signed and accomplished, update the kardex, get everything super organized and ready because it is the worst to start your shift amidst chaos. And chaos is what I handed two of my friendly co-workers. Ugh. I could go on, but I will refrain as I am sure this has gone on for far too long.
I am so angry and there is nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.
I ventured downtown yesterday to see what is up with my foot. It has been a month since it started hurting and usually it's resolved by now. Truthfully, the day and a half before (late Sunday and Monday), it felt a lot better. I considered cancelling the appointment but didn't get around to it and there's the ridiculous 24 hour cancellation policy blah blah blah. So I went. I don't like doctors. This clown was arrogant and didn't let me tell him about my foot at all. He only wanted to most brittle skeleton of what the problem was. He was more interested in the fact that I have narcolepsy. HELLO YOU'RE AN ORTHOPAEDIC DOCTOR, FIGURE IT OUT. After the x-ray he said stress fracture (which I am still INCREDIBLY SKEPTICAL ABOUT) and said we have two options: we can boot you or cast you. I wanted to say 'screw you' and leave, but instead I sat there with my eyes bugging out and my jaw on the floor. Any voice I once had booked it out the door and I just sat there silently, thinking many things: THIS IS A MUSCULAR ISSUE I AM SURE OF IT. All I need is some PT to get it ultrasounded away and slowly re-strengthened back to normal. Honestly-- the history does not support the diagnosis: comparatively to what I have run in years past, my mileage as of late has been FAR LESS. Shamefully less. RIDICULOUSLY less. There has been essentially no 'stress' on my 5th metatarsal. If I were going to get a stress fracture I would have gotten it when I was running 50 miles a week. The thought crossed my mind at one point but I quickly came to my senses and dismissed it like any half-way intelligent individual would and SHOULD. HELLO. At some point during my catatonic state he decided boot over cast (lucky for him, I woulda REALLY snapped if he tried plastering my leg, my WORD). I remember shaking his hand (and the hand of chipper med student that was there without my permission-- whatever, I would have said yes if he asked, but it's the principle) and then they left. A nurse-- a very kind nurse, came in a few minute later as I slowly thought about returning to the land of speaking and showed me the HIDEOUS thing called a boot. Patiently she explained it. I am grateful that she gave me a small insert for my opposite shoe, as this ungodly large hunk of plastic raises me significantly higher than my shoes, so the insert will even it out a little and hopefully save my back. I remember thinking 'I hate being the patient.' The teaching she was doing was incredibly similar to what I do at work: go teach parents how to put a tube down their baby's nose so it can be fed, teach parents how to give antibiotics to their child via a central line, teach parents how to give injections to their kids... The patient (or parents) have just been dealt a life-altering diagnosis (big or small) and are trying to deal with it, get around it, change it, deny it in any way possible. It's so hard to absorb anything that is being said to you. Even if it is 'how to use the velcro on your boot.' I couldn't absorb it at all. Fortunately for me it is a rather simple contraption. Anyways. For three weeks I'm stuck with this absolutely unnecessary thing. It was supposed to be four but I lied to the rescheduling lady and said three (only when I was walking out did I regain some of my fight).
I don't know what this means. Can I take it off to ride my bike? Can I still swim? Can I spin? How am I supposed to do the leg press with this thing? 6 Pack attack with a sumo-leg? Can I take it off then? I went to work for four awful hours yesterday-- that was a treat. Try being quiet around a sleeping baby with what essentially is a club foot. I was so grumpy at work and then I got the CRAPPIEST assignment ever and of course was up for first admission which happened two minutes and thirty seconds after getting report on my other kids. Then of course the new admission needs an IV started right away and labs sent. Another nurse was kindly in there to try to help speed things along and filled the tubes with the blood and lo and be hold not long after they were sent the lab calls and says "there was not enough sample to run the test, please redraw." YOU go in there and STICK THE BABY, clown! UGH IT WAS THE WORST NIGHT EVER. AND when I got there the manager says 'hey can you stay until 11?' I said 'sure' because the only plans I had were to go home and mope. So mentally I was there for 8 hours instead of 4, then at 6 she comes up to me and says 'Nevermind you can go home at 7.' WT
F. Fine, I won't beg to stay at work, but when you have 8 hours you plan your evening very differently than if you have 4. So I was running around like a crazy lady trying to get everything done, meds given, charting completed, bags hung, rooms clean and organized then all of the sudden two of the night shift nurses were waiting for me. I HATE THAT. Usually I get everything ready, check the chart to make sure everything was signed and accomplished, update the kardex, get everything super organized and ready because it is the worst to start your shift amidst chaos. And chaos is what I handed two of my friendly co-workers. Ugh. I could go on, but I will refrain as I am sure this has gone on for far too long.I am so angry and there is nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A new foot for Thanksgiving, please.
There are three runs I've seen on calendars that I want to participate in:
1) Turkey Trot in Lincoln Park on Thanksgiving
2) Jingle Bell something or other
3) Cascade Half Marathon in Oregon on January 11th.
If my right foot weren't so useless I'd register right now for all three. However, it is a sad excuse for a foot and isn't serving me properly.
On Tuesday, after my appointment with some doctor to figure out my foot, I'll decide about the Turkey Trot. I'm determined to do the Jingle one and as long as my foot isn't anything serious, the half marathon, too.
I ran that race last year on my birthday, and despite the fact that I died at mile 11.5 and experienced extreme disorientation due to low blood sugar, it was good. Honestly the best way I've spent my birthday ever since an awesome rainbow icecream cake when I was like six. That's a lie, I had some awesome birthdays in high school-- surprise party for 16th, surprise gathering for my 18th and an Arthur cake-- perfection. I don't think I'm a big birthday person. I liked running that race on my birthday because I like running.
I figure if I'm really going to do a half ironman next year I need to get more comfortable with running 13 miles. The only reason I was able to putz through the 6 miles at the end of Accenture is because running six miles wasn't a big deal before hand. Had I just started running with training for the triathlon, or if six had been a big deal, the run leg would have been more dismal than it actually was. I need my stupid foot to figure it's life out so I can start slowly but surely building my mileage and make 13 miles a regular thing in my life. Maybe once or twice a week? I don't know. This is why I need a personal trainer or a training program for a half ironman. A legit one that won't just get me to the finish line but one that will get me to the finish line in a decent time, one that will challenge me to do my absolute best.
So, we'll see. Pray for my foot. It kills.
1) Turkey Trot in Lincoln Park on Thanksgiving
2) Jingle Bell something or other
3) Cascade Half Marathon in Oregon on January 11th.
If my right foot weren't so useless I'd register right now for all three. However, it is a sad excuse for a foot and isn't serving me properly.
On Tuesday, after my appointment with some doctor to figure out my foot, I'll decide about the Turkey Trot. I'm determined to do the Jingle one and as long as my foot isn't anything serious, the half marathon, too.
I ran that race last year on my birthday, and despite the fact that I died at mile 11.5 and experienced extreme disorientation due to low blood sugar, it was good. Honestly the best way I've spent my birthday ever since an awesome rainbow icecream cake when I was like six. That's a lie, I had some awesome birthdays in high school-- surprise party for 16th, surprise gathering for my 18th and an Arthur cake-- perfection. I don't think I'm a big birthday person. I liked running that race on my birthday because I like running.
I figure if I'm really going to do a half ironman next year I need to get more comfortable with running 13 miles. The only reason I was able to putz through the 6 miles at the end of Accenture is because running six miles wasn't a big deal before hand. Had I just started running with training for the triathlon, or if six had been a big deal, the run leg would have been more dismal than it actually was. I need my stupid foot to figure it's life out so I can start slowly but surely building my mileage and make 13 miles a regular thing in my life. Maybe once or twice a week? I don't know. This is why I need a personal trainer or a training program for a half ironman. A legit one that won't just get me to the finish line but one that will get me to the finish line in a decent time, one that will challenge me to do my absolute best.
So, we'll see. Pray for my foot. It kills.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sure, that'd be great.
Today for work we had a class-- PALS (Pediatric Advanced Life Support) which I was sure would get me fired, as when I studied I learned that I'd need to be able to insert an ET tube, IO catheter and other heinously crazy things that are so far beyond my scope of practice I couldn't even think about pretending to fake my way through them. So the whole week I'd conjured up a peptic ulcer as I obsessed over the fact that I would be 'that girl' who obviously shouldn't be a nurse and somehow slipped through every crack possible from day one in nursing school to being hired at the esteemed institution of which I am an employee.
My alarm went off this morning, but lo and behold I didn't hear it. Anticipating this event (as it has happened frequently over the past months), I'd asked a friend to text me to make sure I was up. Why I heard the "beep" followed by a buzz from her text and not the train whistles, crowds applauding, and bells ringing for the entire hour before is beyond me. I figured it was an appropriately awful start to what would be an awful and humiliating day-- first confirmed by the fact that as I biked my heart out down busy rush hour Chicago streets, I realized I'd forgotten my lunch.
However, as the day went on, I was pleasantly surprised.
In my anxiety I studied for this class a lot. More than I studied in nursing school. Well, maybe not, but after so long of not studying it felt brutal. So I actually knew what they were talking about. So refreshing. And apparently I don't have to know how to do crazy things such as ET tubes and IO's... but I still got to practice putting an IO in on a chicken leg-- just to 'know what it feels like and know the process' in case I ever help with one or something. (PS chicken legs are sick and they smell awful). I was still bummed about my lunch, though, and decided to just go with some people to where they were eating (because they said 'Kristin, do you want to come with us?' and in my head I said 'OMG YES. YES I DO. I WOULD LOVE TO GO WITH PEOPLE. ANYONE. ANYWHERE.' but I actually responded with 'Sure, that'd be great'). On our way to some restaurant with the word 'pig' in it, we passed a woman handing out cards on the sidewalk. Usually I try to do an about-face and walk around the block the other way to avoid interactions with solicitors, but our group of four was less than sly like that. She handed us these coupons and said "Do you want a free sandwich?" YES. I mean, sure-- that'd be great. A new Mediterranean restaurant opened right across the street from the hospital and they wanted people to come try their food (there are about 8,000 restaurants within an eighth of a mile of the hospital.. I imagine business is pretty competitive..) So we decided to nix the pig (praise the LORD), and head over to Nesh (the new place). As I read the coupon it said it was good for a free Schwarama (sp?) sandwich. I read what that was-- lamb or chicken on pita. Awesome. So I just asked if I could have a different sandwich with the coupon (vegetarian options are always cheaper than meaty options anyways) and the guy said yes. HOORAY. Free lunch and nice people to eat it with. YES PLEASE.
We went back to the class after our glorious hour of eating (yes a whole hour, compared to two minutes here, five minutes there working on the floor). We went through stations and what not then got out at 3:15-- an hour and 45 minutes earlier than we were supposed to! YES PLEASE.
So I decided to go to the gym and at least lift-- I've been slacking so much in anything regarding exercise, and lifting is one I can't rationalize. And it is painfully obvious that I need to pick that up again. So I went, kind of reluctantly because that's a very busy time for the place typically. However, it was quieter than I anticipated. Wonderful. I lifted and dodged GI Ponytail (who has converted in to GI Bun) SIX TIMES. Seriously this lady stalks me or something. I was done lifting and contemplating running. My foot kills. I can't even get over it. When I have to talk myself into running, there is a problem. I have an appointment to get some medical advice (if they say ice and advil I'll kill 'em) but that's not til the 25th! So that leaves a solid week and a half. I decided to look at the group fitness schedule and lo and behold there was a spinning class coming right up. So I did that. It was the second spinning class I've done at this gym. The first wasn't awesome (hence the lack of follow through) mainly because the instructor was really unenthusiastic and not super great at spinning herself so, for me, that makes it hard to like feel good about it. I don't know. So I was warming up and the same instructor walked in and my heart sank. I decided to stay, though, because I needed to exercise, and this was my only real opportunity if I wanted to save my foot a little bit. It was a lot better than the one before. She's still not awesome (and I still miss the Courthouse more than words can ever articulate-- shoutout Heidi and Audra-- they're PHENOMENAL spinning instructors), but I felt better than I would have if I'd skipped cardio. It felt good to do a challenging workout that didn't make me want to amputate my dominant foot.
So that's that. My foot hurts and it's not getting better. I ran 2 miles yesterday and had to stop because all I could visualize was my fifth metatarsal breaking more and more with each step. I let my imagination get the best of me sometimes, I'll admit it. But it hurts so much and takes any endorphins or good feelings that come with running and kills them. Very sad. Even the fancy new shoes didn't help! =(
All in all, a better day than I'd anticipated. However the test for this class is tomorrow afternoon, so I guess we'll see how that ends up then. Maybe the instructor will say 'no, you don't need to take the exam, you're super smart.' To which I'd think in my head 'HA! you're crazy, but okay sucker!' but I'd actually respond 'Sure, that'd be great.'
My alarm went off this morning, but lo and behold I didn't hear it. Anticipating this event (as it has happened frequently over the past months), I'd asked a friend to text me to make sure I was up. Why I heard the "beep" followed by a buzz from her text and not the train whistles, crowds applauding, and bells ringing for the entire hour before is beyond me. I figured it was an appropriately awful start to what would be an awful and humiliating day-- first confirmed by the fact that as I biked my heart out down busy rush hour Chicago streets, I realized I'd forgotten my lunch.
However, as the day went on, I was pleasantly surprised.
In my anxiety I studied for this class a lot. More than I studied in nursing school. Well, maybe not, but after so long of not studying it felt brutal. So I actually knew what they were talking about. So refreshing. And apparently I don't have to know how to do crazy things such as ET tubes and IO's... but I still got to practice putting an IO in on a chicken leg-- just to 'know what it feels like and know the process' in case I ever help with one or something. (PS chicken legs are sick and they smell awful). I was still bummed about my lunch, though, and decided to just go with some people to where they were eating (because they said 'Kristin, do you want to come with us?' and in my head I said 'OMG YES. YES I DO. I WOULD LOVE TO GO WITH PEOPLE. ANYONE. ANYWHERE.' but I actually responded with 'Sure, that'd be great'). On our way to some restaurant with the word 'pig' in it, we passed a woman handing out cards on the sidewalk. Usually I try to do an about-face and walk around the block the other way to avoid interactions with solicitors, but our group of four was less than sly like that. She handed us these coupons and said "Do you want a free sandwich?" YES. I mean, sure-- that'd be great. A new Mediterranean restaurant opened right across the street from the hospital and they wanted people to come try their food (there are about 8,000 restaurants within an eighth of a mile of the hospital.. I imagine business is pretty competitive..) So we decided to nix the pig (praise the LORD), and head over to Nesh (the new place). As I read the coupon it said it was good for a free Schwarama (sp?) sandwich. I read what that was-- lamb or chicken on pita. Awesome. So I just asked if I could have a different sandwich with the coupon (vegetarian options are always cheaper than meaty options anyways) and the guy said yes. HOORAY. Free lunch and nice people to eat it with. YES PLEASE.
We went back to the class after our glorious hour of eating (yes a whole hour, compared to two minutes here, five minutes there working on the floor). We went through stations and what not then got out at 3:15-- an hour and 45 minutes earlier than we were supposed to! YES PLEASE.
So I decided to go to the gym and at least lift-- I've been slacking so much in anything regarding exercise, and lifting is one I can't rationalize. And it is painfully obvious that I need to pick that up again. So I went, kind of reluctantly because that's a very busy time for the place typically. However, it was quieter than I anticipated. Wonderful. I lifted and dodged GI Ponytail (who has converted in to GI Bun) SIX TIMES. Seriously this lady stalks me or something. I was done lifting and contemplating running. My foot kills. I can't even get over it. When I have to talk myself into running, there is a problem. I have an appointment to get some medical advice (if they say ice and advil I'll kill 'em) but that's not til the 25th! So that leaves a solid week and a half. I decided to look at the group fitness schedule and lo and behold there was a spinning class coming right up. So I did that. It was the second spinning class I've done at this gym. The first wasn't awesome (hence the lack of follow through) mainly because the instructor was really unenthusiastic and not super great at spinning herself so, for me, that makes it hard to like feel good about it. I don't know. So I was warming up and the same instructor walked in and my heart sank. I decided to stay, though, because I needed to exercise, and this was my only real opportunity if I wanted to save my foot a little bit. It was a lot better than the one before. She's still not awesome (and I still miss the Courthouse more than words can ever articulate-- shoutout Heidi and Audra-- they're PHENOMENAL spinning instructors), but I felt better than I would have if I'd skipped cardio. It felt good to do a challenging workout that didn't make me want to amputate my dominant foot.
So that's that. My foot hurts and it's not getting better. I ran 2 miles yesterday and had to stop because all I could visualize was my fifth metatarsal breaking more and more with each step. I let my imagination get the best of me sometimes, I'll admit it. But it hurts so much and takes any endorphins or good feelings that come with running and kills them. Very sad. Even the fancy new shoes didn't help! =(
All in all, a better day than I'd anticipated. However the test for this class is tomorrow afternoon, so I guess we'll see how that ends up then. Maybe the instructor will say 'no, you don't need to take the exam, you're super smart.' To which I'd think in my head 'HA! you're crazy, but okay sucker!' but I'd actually respond 'Sure, that'd be great.'
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Brrrrrr
I surprisingly held up my 'won't run till my new shoes come' statement. I swam and biked a lot over those four days. My new shoes came in their pink and orange glory (these are the color I wanted originally, but the store didn't have when I bought a pair awhile ago for the triathlon). So the next day I ran after work. Then I ran the next morning and my foot still hurts. A lot. WHYYYYY. It seriously irritates me when something hurts bad enough to limit me from what I want to do. After I ran for the first time, it wasn't awful, but after running the next morning it was. So maybe I just need to ease back into it or something..? I hate that. Frustrating.
When I ran Saturday morning, it was with the Fleet Feet Fun Run. A group meets at Fleet Feet- Lincoln Square every Monday and Wednesday evening, and Saturday mornings to go on a run that can be 3,4,5, or 6 miles. I'd like to go with them more often. I popmpously thought 'Oh pacing won't be a big deal, I might be towards the front of the pack,' remembering TNT training. But 8 people showed up to run (a fair turnout considering the freezing weather-- well almost, it was 38, feels like 8). But no one there was slow. I guess people who go on fun runs are usually good runners. Shoot. But I can see it being good motivation to go running as that has been hard to come by lately. And if you go to 10 runs, you get a free shirt. Yes please.
The weather is getting colder. I walked to church this morning (the whole block and a half) and there were snow flurries. I hate it when it gets cold, and the coming of winter has solidified my plan to move away from this city next October. I kinda wish I could leave now.
I chopped my hair off. I'd wanted to do it since June, but didn't want to endure the triathlon with short hair that couldn't be contained, then the same applied for the half marathon a week ago. So now that it's over, I found a salon that would cut it for free if I donated 10 inches to Locks of Love. I'm broke as a joke (not a funny one at that), so I jumped on the opportunity. It's hard to run with short hair. There aren't enough clips in the world to contain my mop. Shoot. It isn't ponytail length despite my very clear and specific instruction to 'maintain ponytial length.' What can ya do, good thing it grows, eh? That has been the latest development in my absolutely THRILLING life.
People keep asking me what big race I'm going to do next and I don't know what to say to them.
There aren't a lot of races happening because it's freezing, and to be honest, my foot hurts. I can't really train for something right now because if I run my foot hurts and that is not conducive to anything good. I'm pretty sure I still want to do a half ironman next year (which one, where, every necessary detail, I dont' know) I think it's what I'd like to do. I'd need a training program, though. TNT does one in Michigan-- Steelhead, but I don't know if I can fundraise again. Fundraising for Accenture taught me a lot and I saw a lot of cool things happen, and I wouldn't change that experience for the world, but I don't know how I feel about hitting up people for money all the time. Even if it doesn't go to me, asking people for money is the last activity I'd choose... ever. So we'll see I guess. I kinda don't like it when people ask me what I'm training for because then I feel like I should be training for something and then when I admit 'nothing' I feel like I'm not doing as much as I could be or something.
I just want to leave Chicago. I want to go to California, and yes for the nice weather. Call me lame and whatever because I am just like every other shallow clown out there, but I seirously cannot handle this cold. And it's still in the 30's which is TROPICAL compared to what it will be soon.
Pray for me.
When I ran Saturday morning, it was with the Fleet Feet Fun Run. A group meets at Fleet Feet- Lincoln Square every Monday and Wednesday evening, and Saturday mornings to go on a run that can be 3,4,5, or 6 miles. I'd like to go with them more often. I popmpously thought 'Oh pacing won't be a big deal, I might be towards the front of the pack,' remembering TNT training. But 8 people showed up to run (a fair turnout considering the freezing weather-- well almost, it was 38, feels like 8). But no one there was slow. I guess people who go on fun runs are usually good runners. Shoot. But I can see it being good motivation to go running as that has been hard to come by lately. And if you go to 10 runs, you get a free shirt. Yes please.
The weather is getting colder. I walked to church this morning (the whole block and a half) and there were snow flurries. I hate it when it gets cold, and the coming of winter has solidified my plan to move away from this city next October. I kinda wish I could leave now.
I chopped my hair off. I'd wanted to do it since June, but didn't want to endure the triathlon with short hair that couldn't be contained, then the same applied for the half marathon a week ago. So now that it's over, I found a salon that would cut it for free if I donated 10 inches to Locks of Love. I'm broke as a joke (not a funny one at that), so I jumped on the opportunity. It's hard to run with short hair. There aren't enough clips in the world to contain my mop. Shoot. It isn't ponytail length despite my very clear and specific instruction to 'maintain ponytial length.' What can ya do, good thing it grows, eh? That has been the latest development in my absolutely THRILLING life.
People keep asking me what big race I'm going to do next and I don't know what to say to them.
There aren't a lot of races happening because it's freezing, and to be honest, my foot hurts. I can't really train for something right now because if I run my foot hurts and that is not conducive to anything good. I'm pretty sure I still want to do a half ironman next year (which one, where, every necessary detail, I dont' know) I think it's what I'd like to do. I'd need a training program, though. TNT does one in Michigan-- Steelhead, but I don't know if I can fundraise again. Fundraising for Accenture taught me a lot and I saw a lot of cool things happen, and I wouldn't change that experience for the world, but I don't know how I feel about hitting up people for money all the time. Even if it doesn't go to me, asking people for money is the last activity I'd choose... ever. So we'll see I guess. I kinda don't like it when people ask me what I'm training for because then I feel like I should be training for something and then when I admit 'nothing' I feel like I'm not doing as much as I could be or something.
I just want to leave Chicago. I want to go to California, and yes for the nice weather. Call me lame and whatever because I am just like every other shallow clown out there, but I seirously cannot handle this cold. And it's still in the 30's which is TROPICAL compared to what it will be soon.
Pray for me.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Lesson Learned.
Well, I'm alive.
I made it to Indianapolis around 11pm on Thursday. I had a great time visiting my friend. Friday we picked up our packets, enjoyed a free Einstein bagel (one of the only cool coupons in the packet!), and then embraced some good ole fashioned Halloween fun. We went to two gatherings that were rather dramatically different. The second one we were to attend required costumes to be allowed in. (Note: I'm really just not a costume person and only agreed to this activity if my host would figure out my costume-- within reason). So I ended up being.... a soccer player. How anti-climactic. I was secretly grateful for the lack luster costume, though, because it was comfortable and essentially what I wear every day... haha. Whatever. Anyways, so our first little party was with my friend's church young-adult group. THIS event, however, was NOT a costume party. So we were definitely the only clowns dressed up at all (she was a cowgirl). We explained that later in the evening we'd be heading out to a costume party, but it's definitely awkward to be a) a new person and b) in costume. Whatever-- the beauty of those situations is that you'll never see those people again. I actually had a great time there and met some guy that wants to start doing triathlons, so I told him he should do Chicago next year and he seemed sold. He was talking to his wife saying things like 'we can cut our food budget $30 a month to get a gym membership, right?' I don't think SHE liked me. But there were a couple of triathlon enthusiastic individuals present and it was really good to have something to talk about instead of being bored to death. To my dismay, it soon got later than we thought and we had to go to our next destination. This party was on the other end of the spectrum from church bonfire with s'mores and fellowship. It was your traditional Halloween party where girls jump at the opportunity to have an excuse to look skanky and boys... well, are just boys. The house we went to, though, was decorated really well. It was done by a guy that my friend works with, and apparently he started getting ready at the beginning of September. I was rather impressed-- it really looked like a haunted house. So mad props there. It was good to meet my friend's friends and co-workers. I couldn't help but think 'holy toledo, we are racing at 7:30 in the morning, in a race that I'm already not ready for!' Someone came up to my friend and said 'aren't you guys running in the morning?' and she nodded, then the person was like 'WHY ARE YOU HERE' to which I mouthed 'THANK YOU,' and we left soon after. We arrived back to her apartment around 12:30am, which was earlier than I thought we'd get back. We immediately went to sleep and all too soon-- at 5am-- my alarm was blaring in my ear. Here.we.go.
I'd laid out all my clothes and what not the night before, anticipating extreme sleepiness upon waking. However, I just couldn't decide WHAT I wanted to wear, so I made a 'definitely' pile, a 'maybe' pile, and an 'after-race' pile. I danced around what the weather would be like, how hot I'd get, what would be most comfortable, threw fashion out of the decision (...a long time ago to be honest), and ended up just putting clothes on and thinking 'I'll just change later.'
Remember those triathlon shoe laces, Yankz? Those caused some stress. When I was parading about parties as a soccer player, I wanted my shoes to be loose, so I unlaced the shoe laces you're not supposed to ever have to unlace, and threaded them through like normal shoe laces so they could be loose and 'cooler'. But, when I went to re-lace them (at 5am) how I was used to them for running purposes, I couldn't remember how it worked. It might have been because it was before dawn, it might have been because they're a silly contraption, but I couldn't get it and I was getting super pissed off! You know when you're super anxious or stressed about something and then completely let out all of that steam on something really small and almost unrelated? That's what happened. As my friend tapped her toe and said "...so are you ready to go?" I just sighed and put lace-less shoes on my feet and resorted to figuring it out later... maybe when I changed my clothes.
Off we drove to the race, which was held in downtown Indianapolis. Despite her residence there, my friend doesn't know where anything is. I was grateful for a third party in the car (a friend of her's), who had a map and some knowledge of where we were going, but lacked a 'pair' and didn't want to say 'turn here' or 'this is where we should go.' So we silent-frantically drove around downtown-- it was kind of tense, understandably. At this point it was 7:04 and we still weren't parked, my shoes were half heartedly laced, and I still wanted to change my clothes, go to the bathroom, hit gear-check, and mentally prepare for the ensuing debaucle all before the 7:30 start horn. Yea right. Magically we found a parking garage (which we later learned only accepted cash payment upon exit), and wound all the way up to the third level which took forever (no duh, all the last minute clowns are trying to parade in here), and finally found a spot. 7:14. I realized gear check wasn't going to be an option and I'd just have to wear what I was wearing then-- shorts and a t-shirt (no under armor, not a long sleeved t-shirt...) and that my shoe laces were of top priority. One can run cold, but they (or at least I) can't run with whacked out shoe laces. I decided I'd just have to treat them like normal shoe laces, even though they're essentially elastic string and laced them up as best as I could, but they were always too tight. It took a couple of tries to get them satisfactory. Luckily the other clowns were dawdling, too. Finally got everything in the trunk, was SHIVERING, and we scurried down and out to the porta-potties, conveniently by the start line. As I hovered, I heard an announcement "Welcome blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah... it is now 7:25am blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah half marathon start time at 8:00am." Whaaaat?! Apparently the stupid thing started at 8:00, not 7:30. I was halfway relieved and half way annoyed. I could have worn my under armor, I could have slept a little longer, I could have breathed a little more when we were finding parking... but I was glad that it was a later start instead of hearing the start horn mid tinkle! Shoot.
So we went back into the stairwell of the parking garage where it was a little warmer and waited.
A while later, we went back out and my pre race panic flourished. I get hyper-verbal when I'm with people I know and at the starting line-- waiting. 'What if...,' 'I wonder....,' 'I forgot.....!' 'Look at......,' it's really ugly. I hadn't really stretched and that fact dawned on me when there were so many clowns packed in a small space around me (which really helped the situation). Despite our sardine like conditions, I decided to try to stretch my quads at least. It's always fun kicking people when they're in your personal space and masking it with the 'Dude I need to stretch' excuse. =) So I was tight and freezing and honestly freaking out. Generally in races they play the national anthem, say a few words about the race, or at least give a 'ready, set..' before the GO. Not at this race, my friends. Before I even had my earphones in my ears, the start horn blew. Luckily, there were like 4,000 people in front of me and it's always a slow start with a lot of people. So I yelped when the horn went off and quickly earphoned, pushed play and I was off.
I really enjoy the first few miles of a race. Dodging people and seeing people cheer along the sides make them go by quickly. I noticed the mile 3 marker, and that is also when my hip flexor decided to make its presence and disapproval of this Saturday morning activity known. I had a moment of mental panic: ARE YOU SERIOUS?! It's THREE miles in and my hip flexor is already acting up?!' Then I decided to scold it--'Don't you dare, you have ten miles to go sucker so figure it out!' It didn't get better, but it didn't get worse. I missed the mile 4 marker, but saw mile 5. A few minutes later there was a SHOOTING pain in my right foot. Excruciating, I even stutter stepped a couple of times. Along the outer edge of my foot it felt like that bone was breaking in half with each step. 'Dammit.' I limped along to mile 7 and the pain stayed there but also spread to the bottom of my foot. I've never had plantar fasciitis, but it felt like how people have described it. Every step was honestly excruciating and I couldn't stop thinking 'my foot is going to fall off, I am going to die.' Given, I may have been exaggerating with the death part, but it honestly hurt that bad. I am a stubborn mule, though, and refuse to quit these things. I know I should have. If someone else had told me they had this experience, I would say to them 'You shouldn't have run that race you moron.' But I paid $60 for it and I wasn't about to let that go to waste no matter how illogical of a decision it was. Whatever. So don't take this as me complaing or fishing for 'poor-you's', simply my recouting of events.
The roads we ran on seemed to be dramatically ...curved. You know how a road is higher in along the center line and then slopes down for each of the side lanes (that's a weird description)? It seemed like these were really slanted and it made my foot hurt more. I was seriously dying and I looked the part of 'that idiot who didn't train but decided to run anyways.' Humbling. I waddled along. I was not running, I was shuffling without grace. I was stiff and tense and swearing under my breath every other step. Each mile marker, I thought, got father and farther apart. As I debated whether or not the race gods were trying to sabotage my life, I crossed mile 12. One more mile, I think I might actually finish this. As I glanced at my watch my stomach did an extra flop-- I was going so incredibly slow. I was already one minute over my time in the last half marathon I did, but I still had a whole 1.1 miles left. I briefly mourned the loss the hope for a decent time (I really deep down knew this wasn't going to be a PR performance, but you can never silence that little voice that says 'just maybe...'). Still mad at everything-- my hip, my FOOT, mySELF, my lack of training and motivation over the past month, my poor showing at this race, my super slow time... I decided that I had 1.1 miles left to try and make something good happen. So I decided to try to go faster. (seriously, you would think I would just like surrender to my shuffle and think 'better luck (planning) next time' but no). My waddle/shuffle/limp intensified when I tried to lengthen my stride and increase my turnover rate. Ugly. The last mile was back in the heart of down town and there were a lot of turns. I thought at each corner 'just around this turn is the finish line-- YES' but then was sorely disappointed to see bare sidewalks and cones, not a roaring crowd and giant clock. THREE times that happened! When I reached the pinnacle of my exhaustion and irritation and pain threshold, I saw it: the beautiful finish line. I 'strode' towards it-- again, ugly in every way, but I went and I crossed it and then stopped immediately and picked my bum foot up and just stood on my left leg. I didn't want to move. I wanted to stay there one legged forever. My right foot was throbbing and it was somewhat mentally reassuring to know that it was safe in the air, away from the ground where inevitably it would have to bear all my weight while 'ole left swung forward. My brief immobility break was all too soon interrupted when I was nudged from behind by other finishers. Jerks. I hobbled to receive my metal and my aluminum-foil-esque blanket. I got water, powerade (which tastes AWFUL by the way, even after sweating my guts out, it's gross), and a half a bagel. I went to stand and wait for my friend and her friend. On one foot. I nibbled at the bagel, but was nauseous after the powerade. I tried to wrap the blanket around me because I got cold really quickly (I have a theory on long distance running... and that after a while of maintaining the same pace, your body settles and isn't really working hard anymore... it's a rough theory... but it would explain why two minutes after I was done I was freezing... whatever). At some point I realized I'd dropped my bagel and that I'd been just staring into oblivion. I moved into a patch of sun and resumed my flamingo stance. Then I realized I should just sit down. Getting down wasn't easy, but I propped my foot up on a flower pot and waited. I reunited with the other two and they dilly dallied while I shivered. Ten minutes later I said "so what's the plan?" and we went back to the car.
One of the least fun races I've ever run solely due to my choice to just go out and run 13 miles instead of slowly building up to it. Lesson learned. Too much too fast isn't a good idea and my puffy and painful right foot is cold hard proof.
After we showered and ate, we went to a mall and I bought new running shoes. I can't help but think that the ones I had were a factor (small, but present) in the whole foot equation. I found my shoes on sale at a store, but of course they didn't have my size. So they are sending them to me. Pray they get here soon, as I've decided to stick to spinning and maybe swimming (if I can find a pool) until they arrive.
All in all a lesson learned. A good weekend no matter what. I like the racing environment and even though I have never won, probably never will win, it's fun and people are generally nice and it's just a good activity. I'm not there to win anyways (not saying I would't be ecstatic with a victory), but I really compete with myself as far as times go. And even though this is my worst time EVER, it just leaves that much more room for improvement.
I'm nervous about my foot, I won't lie-- especially since I work a 12 hour shift tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. But I have faith in the RICE philosophy.
Moral of the story: train appropriately.
I made it to Indianapolis around 11pm on Thursday. I had a great time visiting my friend. Friday we picked up our packets, enjoyed a free Einstein bagel (one of the only cool coupons in the packet!), and then embraced some good ole fashioned Halloween fun. We went to two gatherings that were rather dramatically different. The second one we were to attend required costumes to be allowed in. (Note: I'm really just not a costume person and only agreed to this activity if my host would figure out my costume-- within reason). So I ended up being.... a soccer player. How anti-climactic. I was secretly grateful for the lack luster costume, though, because it was comfortable and essentially what I wear every day... haha. Whatever. Anyways, so our first little party was with my friend's church young-adult group. THIS event, however, was NOT a costume party. So we were definitely the only clowns dressed up at all (she was a cowgirl). We explained that later in the evening we'd be heading out to a costume party, but it's definitely awkward to be a) a new person and b) in costume. Whatever-- the beauty of those situations is that you'll never see those people again. I actually had a great time there and met some guy that wants to start doing triathlons, so I told him he should do Chicago next year and he seemed sold. He was talking to his wife saying things like 'we can cut our food budget $30 a month to get a gym membership, right?' I don't think SHE liked me. But there were a couple of triathlon enthusiastic individuals present and it was really good to have something to talk about instead of being bored to death. To my dismay, it soon got later than we thought and we had to go to our next destination. This party was on the other end of the spectrum from church bonfire with s'mores and fellowship. It was your traditional Halloween party where girls jump at the opportunity to have an excuse to look skanky and boys... well, are just boys. The house we went to, though, was decorated really well. It was done by a guy that my friend works with, and apparently he started getting ready at the beginning of September. I was rather impressed-- it really looked like a haunted house. So mad props there. It was good to meet my friend's friends and co-workers. I couldn't help but think 'holy toledo, we are racing at 7:30 in the morning, in a race that I'm already not ready for!' Someone came up to my friend and said 'aren't you guys running in the morning?' and she nodded, then the person was like 'WHY ARE YOU HERE' to which I mouthed 'THANK YOU,' and we left soon after. We arrived back to her apartment around 12:30am, which was earlier than I thought we'd get back. We immediately went to sleep and all too soon-- at 5am-- my alarm was blaring in my ear. Here.we.go.
I'd laid out all my clothes and what not the night before, anticipating extreme sleepiness upon waking. However, I just couldn't decide WHAT I wanted to wear, so I made a 'definitely' pile, a 'maybe' pile, and an 'after-race' pile. I danced around what the weather would be like, how hot I'd get, what would be most comfortable, threw fashion out of the decision (...a long time ago to be honest), and ended up just putting clothes on and thinking 'I'll just change later.'
Remember those triathlon shoe laces, Yankz? Those caused some stress. When I was parading about parties as a soccer player, I wanted my shoes to be loose, so I unlaced the shoe laces you're not supposed to ever have to unlace, and threaded them through like normal shoe laces so they could be loose and 'cooler'. But, when I went to re-lace them (at 5am) how I was used to them for running purposes, I couldn't remember how it worked. It might have been because it was before dawn, it might have been because they're a silly contraption, but I couldn't get it and I was getting super pissed off! You know when you're super anxious or stressed about something and then completely let out all of that steam on something really small and almost unrelated? That's what happened. As my friend tapped her toe and said "...so are you ready to go?" I just sighed and put lace-less shoes on my feet and resorted to figuring it out later... maybe when I changed my clothes.
Off we drove to the race, which was held in downtown Indianapolis. Despite her residence there, my friend doesn't know where anything is. I was grateful for a third party in the car (a friend of her's), who had a map and some knowledge of where we were going, but lacked a 'pair' and didn't want to say 'turn here' or 'this is where we should go.' So we silent-frantically drove around downtown-- it was kind of tense, understandably. At this point it was 7:04 and we still weren't parked, my shoes were half heartedly laced, and I still wanted to change my clothes, go to the bathroom, hit gear-check, and mentally prepare for the ensuing debaucle all before the 7:30 start horn. Yea right. Magically we found a parking garage (which we later learned only accepted cash payment upon exit), and wound all the way up to the third level which took forever (no duh, all the last minute clowns are trying to parade in here), and finally found a spot. 7:14. I realized gear check wasn't going to be an option and I'd just have to wear what I was wearing then-- shorts and a t-shirt (no under armor, not a long sleeved t-shirt...) and that my shoe laces were of top priority. One can run cold, but they (or at least I) can't run with whacked out shoe laces. I decided I'd just have to treat them like normal shoe laces, even though they're essentially elastic string and laced them up as best as I could, but they were always too tight. It took a couple of tries to get them satisfactory. Luckily the other clowns were dawdling, too. Finally got everything in the trunk, was SHIVERING, and we scurried down and out to the porta-potties, conveniently by the start line. As I hovered, I heard an announcement "Welcome blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah... it is now 7:25am blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah half marathon start time at 8:00am." Whaaaat?! Apparently the stupid thing started at 8:00, not 7:30. I was halfway relieved and half way annoyed. I could have worn my under armor, I could have slept a little longer, I could have breathed a little more when we were finding parking... but I was glad that it was a later start instead of hearing the start horn mid tinkle! Shoot.
So we went back into the stairwell of the parking garage where it was a little warmer and waited.
A while later, we went back out and my pre race panic flourished. I get hyper-verbal when I'm with people I know and at the starting line-- waiting. 'What if...,' 'I wonder....,' 'I forgot.....!' 'Look at......,' it's really ugly. I hadn't really stretched and that fact dawned on me when there were so many clowns packed in a small space around me (which really helped the situation). Despite our sardine like conditions, I decided to try to stretch my quads at least. It's always fun kicking people when they're in your personal space and masking it with the 'Dude I need to stretch' excuse. =) So I was tight and freezing and honestly freaking out. Generally in races they play the national anthem, say a few words about the race, or at least give a 'ready, set..' before the GO. Not at this race, my friends. Before I even had my earphones in my ears, the start horn blew. Luckily, there were like 4,000 people in front of me and it's always a slow start with a lot of people. So I yelped when the horn went off and quickly earphoned, pushed play and I was off.
I really enjoy the first few miles of a race. Dodging people and seeing people cheer along the sides make them go by quickly. I noticed the mile 3 marker, and that is also when my hip flexor decided to make its presence and disapproval of this Saturday morning activity known. I had a moment of mental panic: ARE YOU SERIOUS?! It's THREE miles in and my hip flexor is already acting up?!' Then I decided to scold it--'Don't you dare, you have ten miles to go sucker so figure it out!' It didn't get better, but it didn't get worse. I missed the mile 4 marker, but saw mile 5. A few minutes later there was a SHOOTING pain in my right foot. Excruciating, I even stutter stepped a couple of times. Along the outer edge of my foot it felt like that bone was breaking in half with each step. 'Dammit.' I limped along to mile 7 and the pain stayed there but also spread to the bottom of my foot. I've never had plantar fasciitis, but it felt like how people have described it. Every step was honestly excruciating and I couldn't stop thinking 'my foot is going to fall off, I am going to die.' Given, I may have been exaggerating with the death part, but it honestly hurt that bad. I am a stubborn mule, though, and refuse to quit these things. I know I should have. If someone else had told me they had this experience, I would say to them 'You shouldn't have run that race you moron.' But I paid $60 for it and I wasn't about to let that go to waste no matter how illogical of a decision it was. Whatever. So don't take this as me complaing or fishing for 'poor-you's', simply my recouting of events.
The roads we ran on seemed to be dramatically ...curved. You know how a road is higher in along the center line and then slopes down for each of the side lanes (that's a weird description)? It seemed like these were really slanted and it made my foot hurt more. I was seriously dying and I looked the part of 'that idiot who didn't train but decided to run anyways.' Humbling. I waddled along. I was not running, I was shuffling without grace. I was stiff and tense and swearing under my breath every other step. Each mile marker, I thought, got father and farther apart. As I debated whether or not the race gods were trying to sabotage my life, I crossed mile 12. One more mile, I think I might actually finish this. As I glanced at my watch my stomach did an extra flop-- I was going so incredibly slow. I was already one minute over my time in the last half marathon I did, but I still had a whole 1.1 miles left. I briefly mourned the loss the hope for a decent time (I really deep down knew this wasn't going to be a PR performance, but you can never silence that little voice that says 'just maybe...'). Still mad at everything-- my hip, my FOOT, mySELF, my lack of training and motivation over the past month, my poor showing at this race, my super slow time... I decided that I had 1.1 miles left to try and make something good happen. So I decided to try to go faster. (seriously, you would think I would just like surrender to my shuffle and think 'better luck (planning) next time' but no). My waddle/shuffle/limp intensified when I tried to lengthen my stride and increase my turnover rate. Ugly. The last mile was back in the heart of down town and there were a lot of turns. I thought at each corner 'just around this turn is the finish line-- YES' but then was sorely disappointed to see bare sidewalks and cones, not a roaring crowd and giant clock. THREE times that happened! When I reached the pinnacle of my exhaustion and irritation and pain threshold, I saw it: the beautiful finish line. I 'strode' towards it-- again, ugly in every way, but I went and I crossed it and then stopped immediately and picked my bum foot up and just stood on my left leg. I didn't want to move. I wanted to stay there one legged forever. My right foot was throbbing and it was somewhat mentally reassuring to know that it was safe in the air, away from the ground where inevitably it would have to bear all my weight while 'ole left swung forward. My brief immobility break was all too soon interrupted when I was nudged from behind by other finishers. Jerks. I hobbled to receive my metal and my aluminum-foil-esque blanket. I got water, powerade (which tastes AWFUL by the way, even after sweating my guts out, it's gross), and a half a bagel. I went to stand and wait for my friend and her friend. On one foot. I nibbled at the bagel, but was nauseous after the powerade. I tried to wrap the blanket around me because I got cold really quickly (I have a theory on long distance running... and that after a while of maintaining the same pace, your body settles and isn't really working hard anymore... it's a rough theory... but it would explain why two minutes after I was done I was freezing... whatever). At some point I realized I'd dropped my bagel and that I'd been just staring into oblivion. I moved into a patch of sun and resumed my flamingo stance. Then I realized I should just sit down. Getting down wasn't easy, but I propped my foot up on a flower pot and waited. I reunited with the other two and they dilly dallied while I shivered. Ten minutes later I said "so what's the plan?" and we went back to the car.
One of the least fun races I've ever run solely due to my choice to just go out and run 13 miles instead of slowly building up to it. Lesson learned. Too much too fast isn't a good idea and my puffy and painful right foot is cold hard proof.
After we showered and ate, we went to a mall and I bought new running shoes. I can't help but think that the ones I had were a factor (small, but present) in the whole foot equation. I found my shoes on sale at a store, but of course they didn't have my size. So they are sending them to me. Pray they get here soon, as I've decided to stick to spinning and maybe swimming (if I can find a pool) until they arrive.
All in all a lesson learned. A good weekend no matter what. I like the racing environment and even though I have never won, probably never will win, it's fun and people are generally nice and it's just a good activity. I'm not there to win anyways (not saying I would't be ecstatic with a victory), but I really compete with myself as far as times go. And even though this is my worst time EVER, it just leaves that much more room for improvement.
I'm nervous about my foot, I won't lie-- especially since I work a 12 hour shift tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. But I have faith in the RICE philosophy.
Moral of the story: train appropriately.
Fee fiii fo fum... Indianapolis, here I come.. (gulp)
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30TH, 2008
Double decker busses make me think of England for some reason. It always seems like movies set there have a giant, red, double-decker bus filled of tourists dawning sun visors and cameras. So, I’ll type all of this with a British accent—as I am currently aboard a double decker bus (albeit purple..), on my way to Indianapolis for the Monumental Half Marathon. There is actually a wireless connection on my British vessel, however, I think I just got a virus from it, so I’m choosing to say no thank you to an internet connection for now. (Don’t worry, dad a virus scan is running). Anyways, I’m absolutely mortified about the motivation of this journey. This past week has only allowed my already nauseating anxiety flourish. I went for a 6 miler today in an effort to ‘get loose’ but I just can’t stop flipping out! My mind is not my own, I swear. After last Saturday’s escapade, I’ve been super sore. My hips, knees, and foot have told me that new running shoes are in order. It’s a shame there isn’t enough time (or money, let’s be serious) to obtain them before the rapidly approaching event that will rob me of any confidence, pride, dignity, and mobility. I worked three night shifts in a row in order to have these four days off (Thursday through Sunday). I kind of liked working three in a row—it allowed a sick and twisted sense of routine for those three days, even if the night shift WAS the routine. And now I have several days of no night shift to have a regular person routine, and that is very exciting. I have gotten the ‘we frown up on working three in a row’ vibe from my employer which is upsetting. Yes a person will be tired on the third night, but let’s get serious folks, who won’t be tired at 4 in the morning no matter how many shifts you’ve worked before it. As I create my own schedule I will sign up for 3 shifts at a time until I’m told to stop. If they’re going to make me work at such ungodly hours, they’ve gotta give me SOMETHING. Shoot.
As I’ve been spastic about this race, it has made me think more about my half-ironman aspirations for the spring/summer. Thirteen miles is a long way to run no matter how you look at it. In a half-ironman, the thirteen miles that is about to kill me will be run after a crazy long bike. During Accenture I thought I was going to kick the bucket during a piddly 6.2mile run after a 24.8 mile bike. How can I possibly (more than) double both and feel at all successful? I still don’t know. I’d like to have a personal coach. Someone who can help ME train without sixty some other clowns to worry about. TNT was a fantastic experience and prepared me well for my first triathlon. But now I want more out of a program. I want to know more than the details of race day and what not, I want to know how to be GOOD on race day. I don’t want my goal to be to finish, I want to finish the absolute best I can. It’s a shootin’ shame that coaches, trainers, whatever you want to call them cost money—and cost a lot of money at that. I think I have the desire and discipline enough to be really successful with a coach or trainer, but I don’t have the cash. Honestly, even if I did, I’d have a hard time forking it over—it seems stupid to have to pay for that stuff. Then again, where do you find somebody who is legit and will do a good job that will put forth the time and energy for free? Sadly never. Pah.
Originally I’d thought that this race would be my first step in preparing for a half ironman, but oh how that thought has changed. I wanted to get up to a fast and strong 13 miles, then maintain it while incorporating biking and swimming. So much for that plan, eh? I guess I have time still to figure it all out. But I’m disappointed at my lack of diligence. Despite my lack of endurance, I’m excited for the trip as I am staying with a friend from Anderson (where I went for college for one painfully long semester before I transferred). I always enjoy catching up with old friends, and I have been rather hermit-ish lately, so a little socializing might do me some good.
Double decker busses make me think of England for some reason. It always seems like movies set there have a giant, red, double-decker bus filled of tourists dawning sun visors and cameras. So, I’ll type all of this with a British accent—as I am currently aboard a double decker bus (albeit purple..), on my way to Indianapolis for the Monumental Half Marathon. There is actually a wireless connection on my British vessel, however, I think I just got a virus from it, so I’m choosing to say no thank you to an internet connection for now. (Don’t worry, dad a virus scan is running). Anyways, I’m absolutely mortified about the motivation of this journey. This past week has only allowed my already nauseating anxiety flourish. I went for a 6 miler today in an effort to ‘get loose’ but I just can’t stop flipping out! My mind is not my own, I swear. After last Saturday’s escapade, I’ve been super sore. My hips, knees, and foot have told me that new running shoes are in order. It’s a shame there isn’t enough time (or money, let’s be serious) to obtain them before the rapidly approaching event that will rob me of any confidence, pride, dignity, and mobility. I worked three night shifts in a row in order to have these four days off (Thursday through Sunday). I kind of liked working three in a row—it allowed a sick and twisted sense of routine for those three days, even if the night shift WAS the routine. And now I have several days of no night shift to have a regular person routine, and that is very exciting. I have gotten the ‘we frown up on working three in a row’ vibe from my employer which is upsetting. Yes a person will be tired on the third night, but let’s get serious folks, who won’t be tired at 4 in the morning no matter how many shifts you’ve worked before it. As I create my own schedule I will sign up for 3 shifts at a time until I’m told to stop. If they’re going to make me work at such ungodly hours, they’ve gotta give me SOMETHING. Shoot.
As I’ve been spastic about this race, it has made me think more about my half-ironman aspirations for the spring/summer. Thirteen miles is a long way to run no matter how you look at it. In a half-ironman, the thirteen miles that is about to kill me will be run after a crazy long bike. During Accenture I thought I was going to kick the bucket during a piddly 6.2mile run after a 24.8 mile bike. How can I possibly (more than) double both and feel at all successful? I still don’t know. I’d like to have a personal coach. Someone who can help ME train without sixty some other clowns to worry about. TNT was a fantastic experience and prepared me well for my first triathlon. But now I want more out of a program. I want to know more than the details of race day and what not, I want to know how to be GOOD on race day. I don’t want my goal to be to finish, I want to finish the absolute best I can. It’s a shootin’ shame that coaches, trainers, whatever you want to call them cost money—and cost a lot of money at that. I think I have the desire and discipline enough to be really successful with a coach or trainer, but I don’t have the cash. Honestly, even if I did, I’d have a hard time forking it over—it seems stupid to have to pay for that stuff. Then again, where do you find somebody who is legit and will do a good job that will put forth the time and energy for free? Sadly never. Pah.
Originally I’d thought that this race would be my first step in preparing for a half ironman, but oh how that thought has changed. I wanted to get up to a fast and strong 13 miles, then maintain it while incorporating biking and swimming. So much for that plan, eh? I guess I have time still to figure it all out. But I’m disappointed at my lack of diligence. Despite my lack of endurance, I’m excited for the trip as I am staying with a friend from Anderson (where I went for college for one painfully long semester before I transferred). I always enjoy catching up with old friends, and I have been rather hermit-ish lately, so a little socializing might do me some good.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
owie
Ohmygoodness.
In one week from today-- from right now-- I will be done with this half marathon business-- thank goodness! I have ALREADY learned my lesson about not training. The anxiety alone about plodding along for thirteen endless miles is enough to make me swear to never pull this stunt again. However, since I really like to be at least mentally prepared for what I'm about to face, I decided to run 13 miles today. Holy cow. I used MapMyRun.com to map out a route. I ran north just a little bit, then east to the lake, then south along the lake for a long time, then turned around and came back. I think I shouldn't even say "ran" it was a slow and awkward shuffle. Especially on the second leg of the journey-- my legs HURT and when you add a double limp and extreme pigeon toes into an already awkard shuffle... shoot, it's just not pretty. Needless to say I did return and it took me far longer than I will ever be ready to admit. I knew I needed to walk around a little bit afterwards to kind of cool down, but I could barely even walk! As I sort of swayed and tripped along, I thought 'What if I don't even recover from this escapade before next Saturday?!' So we'll see. I am grateful that it didn't rain and that the wind wasn't TOO bad.
More later probably.
In one week from today-- from right now-- I will be done with this half marathon business-- thank goodness! I have ALREADY learned my lesson about not training. The anxiety alone about plodding along for thirteen endless miles is enough to make me swear to never pull this stunt again. However, since I really like to be at least mentally prepared for what I'm about to face, I decided to run 13 miles today. Holy cow. I used MapMyRun.com to map out a route. I ran north just a little bit, then east to the lake, then south along the lake for a long time, then turned around and came back. I think I shouldn't even say "ran" it was a slow and awkward shuffle. Especially on the second leg of the journey-- my legs HURT and when you add a double limp and extreme pigeon toes into an already awkard shuffle... shoot, it's just not pretty. Needless to say I did return and it took me far longer than I will ever be ready to admit. I knew I needed to walk around a little bit afterwards to kind of cool down, but I could barely even walk! As I sort of swayed and tripped along, I thought 'What if I don't even recover from this escapade before next Saturday?!' So we'll see. I am grateful that it didn't rain and that the wind wasn't TOO bad.
More later probably.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
13.1 in 8... (dry heave).
Praise the LORD for the internet and for nice at&t men who climb ladders to get a connection from the telephone wires even though they have RICKETS and obviously don't want to climb.
(for the record i offered MORE THAN ONCE to climb FOR him, to which he replied 'if my supervisor drove by and saw you on a ladder, he'd have my head'...and well, i guess no one likes a head-less at&t man).
So the hand of reality slapped me in the face today-- there are a lousy EIGHT days until I'm registered to run 13.1 miles in a race like manner. I wish I could adequately describe how nauseous this makes me. Many people say 'oh, you'll be fine, you're over exaggerating.' However, I am actually being quite practical. I am not ready for this race. My last half marathon, I was very prepared-- I hit 13 miles in my training two and a half weeks before the race-- and I still almost fainted/vomited/died at the finish line. This time-- I hit 8 miles about two weeks ago... haven't gone past that. Sooo I'm a) mortified, b) terrified, and c) really disappointed in myself. I don't know why I haven't done what I knew I needed to do. I did actually try, but something about the fact that... it was ... hard flipped me out. I don't know. My legs hurt. I had a wicked bout of the flu for a week and am still not really recovered. I started the night shift which throws any sense of normalcy down the drain. There are so many reasons that justify where I'm at in my training, but excuses make me sick and the fact that I'm full of them makes me sicker. The fact that I'm not where I wanted to be and where I should be if I were a serious and legit runner is upsetting beyond belief. When I chuckle as I say I am not ready, I am actually cringing inside and searching for some way to turn back time and re-do these past two months so that I could be ready to dominate this half marathon and beat my time from January. As it is, I am praying that I can finish.
Send me your endurance vibes. They will NOT be wasted.
(for the record i offered MORE THAN ONCE to climb FOR him, to which he replied 'if my supervisor drove by and saw you on a ladder, he'd have my head'...and well, i guess no one likes a head-less at&t man).
So the hand of reality slapped me in the face today-- there are a lousy EIGHT days until I'm registered to run 13.1 miles in a race like manner. I wish I could adequately describe how nauseous this makes me. Many people say 'oh, you'll be fine, you're over exaggerating.' However, I am actually being quite practical. I am not ready for this race. My last half marathon, I was very prepared-- I hit 13 miles in my training two and a half weeks before the race-- and I still almost fainted/vomited/died at the finish line. This time-- I hit 8 miles about two weeks ago... haven't gone past that. Sooo I'm a) mortified, b) terrified, and c) really disappointed in myself. I don't know why I haven't done what I knew I needed to do. I did actually try, but something about the fact that... it was ... hard flipped me out. I don't know. My legs hurt. I had a wicked bout of the flu for a week and am still not really recovered. I started the night shift which throws any sense of normalcy down the drain. There are so many reasons that justify where I'm at in my training, but excuses make me sick and the fact that I'm full of them makes me sicker. The fact that I'm not where I wanted to be and where I should be if I were a serious and legit runner is upsetting beyond belief. When I chuckle as I say I am not ready, I am actually cringing inside and searching for some way to turn back time and re-do these past two months so that I could be ready to dominate this half marathon and beat my time from January. As it is, I am praying that I can finish.
Send me your endurance vibes. They will NOT be wasted.
Monday, September 22, 2008
So I'm training for a half marathon now. It's... interesting.
I'm in a constant battle: treadmill vs. outside running. I prefer treadmill exponentially because I feel like I get a better workout, it doesn't let you slow down. But, come race day, I can't just climb on the beast and press 'go.' There is such a profound difference between the two, it's uncanny. But I like treadmills a lot.. they count everything for you, they pace you, the ones at my new gym even have individual TVs built into each machine (which I'm still getting used to... the screen is almost too close..). I need to figure out a system or a plan that will force me to get outside and run. Now is the best time to do it because the weather is fantastic. All too soon it will be SUB ZERO temps. Boo.
I'm slowly coming back from my prolonged stay in the land of sloth and glutton. Slowly. I'm still trying to figure out a routine or something regular for getting to the gym without making it my only activity in the day. It becomes an event after biking there, working out and biking back.. Ideally, on a day off from work, I'd like to go spin and lift in the morning, and return at night to run. But the commute is still throwing me off. Baby steps. In all honesty I haven't tried the spinning class yet. That might be my goal for this week.
My bike broke again. Riding home from work, I hit a famous Chicago pot-hole and then the ole girl refused to pedal. I got off and pretended to know what I was doing by fiddling with the chain at the back wheel. After five minutes of looking at, pulling the chain onto different... sprockets (?) and getting a thick layer of grease on my hands, I gave up. So for just under a week I was bike-less-- meaning I walked everywhere, including the gym in all it's 3.1 mile away glory. Lordy. However, earlier this year I found a bike guy on CraigsList who goes to where ever the broken bike is! He brings his tool kit and works magic for an insanely affordable price! So I dug up his card and the Iron Horse has risen again! Super embrassing-- when he got here, and tried to pedal it to see what was really wrong (I guess my diagnosis of "...it just won't pedal.." wasn't good enough), it pedaled FINE. He goes 'You're just bored and wanted a reason to hang out with me, I bet.' ...ha! O man, isn't life funny.
I'm moving soon. So my room is bare and it's in that awkward between phase that I'm not fond of. My work schedule exploded and things were... wrong, but I still managed to be scheduled to work Saturday, Sunday and Monday. We'd planned to move Saturday, and the landlord won't let us start moving in until 5pm on Friday, and I'd have to return a UHaul by 7pm on Friday... all that to equal a sucky deal. So, my poor roommates will be moving all their stuff and the big furniture on Saturday, and I'll move my stuff on Tuesday. AWKWARD.
I'm in a constant battle: treadmill vs. outside running. I prefer treadmill exponentially because I feel like I get a better workout, it doesn't let you slow down. But, come race day, I can't just climb on the beast and press 'go.' There is such a profound difference between the two, it's uncanny. But I like treadmills a lot.. they count everything for you, they pace you, the ones at my new gym even have individual TVs built into each machine (which I'm still getting used to... the screen is almost too close..). I need to figure out a system or a plan that will force me to get outside and run. Now is the best time to do it because the weather is fantastic. All too soon it will be SUB ZERO temps. Boo.
I'm slowly coming back from my prolonged stay in the land of sloth and glutton. Slowly. I'm still trying to figure out a routine or something regular for getting to the gym without making it my only activity in the day. It becomes an event after biking there, working out and biking back.. Ideally, on a day off from work, I'd like to go spin and lift in the morning, and return at night to run. But the commute is still throwing me off. Baby steps. In all honesty I haven't tried the spinning class yet. That might be my goal for this week.
My bike broke again. Riding home from work, I hit a famous Chicago pot-hole and then the ole girl refused to pedal. I got off and pretended to know what I was doing by fiddling with the chain at the back wheel. After five minutes of looking at, pulling the chain onto different... sprockets (?) and getting a thick layer of grease on my hands, I gave up. So for just under a week I was bike-less-- meaning I walked everywhere, including the gym in all it's 3.1 mile away glory. Lordy. However, earlier this year I found a bike guy on CraigsList who goes to where ever the broken bike is! He brings his tool kit and works magic for an insanely affordable price! So I dug up his card and the Iron Horse has risen again! Super embrassing-- when he got here, and tried to pedal it to see what was really wrong (I guess my diagnosis of "...it just won't pedal.." wasn't good enough), it pedaled FINE. He goes 'You're just bored and wanted a reason to hang out with me, I bet.' ...ha! O man, isn't life funny.
I'm moving soon. So my room is bare and it's in that awkward between phase that I'm not fond of. My work schedule exploded and things were... wrong, but I still managed to be scheduled to work Saturday, Sunday and Monday. We'd planned to move Saturday, and the landlord won't let us start moving in until 5pm on Friday, and I'd have to return a UHaul by 7pm on Friday... all that to equal a sucky deal. So, my poor roommates will be moving all their stuff and the big furniture on Saturday, and I'll move my stuff on Tuesday. AWKWARD.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
'If only...'
I suppose this post is pretty overdue.. apologies. I'm not thrilled with my time in the triathlon. With my bike functioning, I'd wanted to finish under three hours (my super secret goal was under 02:45:00) but as you'll see I finished in 03:01:38. Most disappointing of all was the run. I can run 6.2 miles so much faster than that! In practicing bricks when we did the 2 hour bike, and 45 minute run-- I did 6 miles in the 45 minutes after a 2 hour bike that ended up being 25 miles-- essentially the bike-run combo of the race. I did better on the bike (another shoutout to Element Multi Sport) than I'd anticipated, but the run was... awful. I remember it being awful and my grandma time proves it. This will be my focus for the next race, whenever it may be. I don't care that I will have swam, then biked-- I can run better than that. I think its especially harsh since I was only two minutes over my goal. That makes me start thinking "if only..." 'if only I went faster in transition'...'if only I were more aggressive in the swim start'...'if only I'd run faster out of the swim to transition'....'if only I picked up the pace just a little in the run'....'if only I didn't stop to use the restroom'... That's a relentless game to play. Bah!
Athlete Details
Athlete: KRISTIN OURADA
Gender: F
Division: F20-24
Athlete Statistics (*note: I tried to make this more aesthetically pleasing in a three column format, however Blogspot doesn't have the column option, and when I manually put it into columns, Blogspot refused to accept the spacing necessary to make it readable. Lo siento.)
Start Swim: 00:00:00
End Swim: 00:30:35
Total Swim: 00:30:35
Transition: 00:03:09
Start of Bike: 00:33:44
End of Bike: 2:00:58
Total Bike: 1:27: 14
Transition: 00:02:57
Start of Run: 02:03:55
End of Run: 03:01:38
Total Run: 00:57:43
Total Time: 03:01:38
Athlete Details
Athlete: KRISTIN OURADA
Gender: F
Division: F20-24
Athlete Statistics (*note: I tried to make this more aesthetically pleasing in a three column format, however Blogspot doesn't have the column option, and when I manually put it into columns, Blogspot refused to accept the spacing necessary to make it readable. Lo siento.)
Start Swim: 00:00:00
End Swim: 00:30:35
Total Swim: 00:30:35
Transition: 00:03:09
Start of Bike: 00:33:44
End of Bike: 2:00:58
Total Bike: 1:27: 14
Transition: 00:02:57
Start of Run: 02:03:55
End of Run: 03:01:38
Total Run: 00:57:43
Total Time: 03:01:38
After a couple of weeks of half hearted workouts that I've forced myself to do after feeling guilty about my consistent sin of sloth, I have a lot of work to do to get back to any sort of 'in-shape.' Daunting, do doubt. This is the part I hate-- getting in shape. I love being in shape and maintaining it. But getting there.. hurts! I swam on Friday and was SORE the next day... swimming is the workout I choose when I'm already sore because it's low impact and kind of lighter than running or spinning. So when I was sore after that I realized that I'm in for it. I joined a gym yesterday (the 24 hour one), and lifted for the first time since August 27th (the gym I was using all summer-- that of my alma mater-- kicked me out because I'm no longer a student and they can't hire former students to work there, and if I don't work there I can't workOUT there--l-l-laaaaame) and this morning I thought that I must have fallen off my loft in the middle of the night because I hurt ALL OVER. Then came the realization-- 'No Kristin, you're just a weakling.' Boo lactic acid. Whenever I'm sore, though, I always think that my muscles must look super defined. If I can FEEL them that much, then surely others can SEE them. However this is untrue. Haha. Man oh man. I'm excited to start working out for real again, minus the pain and agony. I miss the endorphins that come after a long run. And I think it will be a good activity to fill the idle hours I find myself with on my off days. If it would stop RAINING cats and dogs it'd be even better, because I'd bike to the gym! I need rain clothes-- ones that work. I have a rain coat (thanks to my former addiction to buying North Face products for super cheap off E-Bay) but it doesn't work very well... I still get wet when I wear it. So I guess it doesn't work at all. There's always something.
Goals for the week: hydrate, find moving boxes and get them back to my apartment, gym-it-up.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
...hello?
So it's been awhile. I don't have a good explanation for my absence.
The triathlon is over. Incredibly bittersweet. Not having an event to train for has left me lazy and unmotivated-- two traits I despise. I've been looking for a new gym ever since February, but haven't settled on one quite yet. I will be moving apartments at the end of the month, and a lot of my decision depended on where I'd be moving to. Now that we signed a lease, I have to get more serious. The gym I want is 24 hours and close to where I work, however it's 3.1 miles from where I live. "3.1 miles? So what?" You ask. Your scoffing is understandable. 3.1 miles in a car or even on a mild weathered day is a cakewalk, a good warm up! However, it is almost October. Autumn in this city is awesome, but if you blink, you'll miss it. All too soon the harsh Chicago winter will be upon us. To those who are vehicle-less, winters are brutal to a whole new degree. Walking three feet outside your front door is torture, much less venturing an eternal 3.1 miles to the gym. Biking would speed it up, however it is still no walk in the park-- one's hands FREEZE to death, gripping the handle bars, and the already biting wind intensifies when on a bike. Don't forget the ice or grimy snow slush that takes up 5 month residence on the streets, and crazy drivers that refuse to yield to the slickery conditions... it gets ugly. All this leads to my hesitation regarding the 3.1 mile away gym. I've looked at others, and none are impressive. Surprisingly, my ideal place (24 hours, huge, good equipment, spinning classes, etc) is one of the cheaper month-to-month prices. The initiation fee ($249!!!) is where they get ya. Clowns. The one drawback to this awesome place is that the one closest to me doesn't have a pool. There is another that is SEVEN miles away with a pool. I like to swim in the early morning before work.. but if the only place is 7 miles away, I'd have to get up at like 2am (or 2pm when I start on nights... boo) in order to get there, workout, get ready for work, and get to work by 6:53am/pm when I can swipe in. Call me a pansy, but I'm not that hardcore. So I'm just at a standstill! I don't know where to choose. My next choice would be a place that's significantly closer to home, but doesn't have a pool at all... and the hours leave much to be desired. During the week their hours would be acceptable, but on weekends it's open from 8am-7pm. If I'm working from 7am-730pm, I'd be SOL. No thank you. OH DECISIONS! Honestly? I'll probably end up at the 24 hour place. I don't know how I will force myself to go when the temps are subzero and everything, but I can take as long as I want to work up the will power-- it'll be open all day everyday... 24/7/365. That is phenomenal. One other cause of hesitation is that when I went to tour the place, they ripped me apart. I am the first to tell you that I definitely have room to grow in my athleticism, but at the same time I don't think I'm in the depths of despair in this arena, either. The people at my ideal gym, however beg to differ. As we were walking around, Mr. Schmooze goes 'so, you're ready to workout?' I looked at him like a deer in headlights and he goes 'good, stretch out for a couple of SECONDS and I'll get the assessment set up.' Ummm... so I self consciously stretched my quads and calves... I had no idea what was going on. He then ran me through a bunch of circuits. I don't doubt the legitimacy of circuit training and think that theory behind it is awesome. Woo-hoo circuits! However, I haven't ever done circuit training. Ever. So... needless to say it was awful... and his assessment of my physical fitness was 'needs improvement.' There was one thing where he wanted to see how balanced my strength was (which I told him up front, it's unbalanced... don't know why I had to prove it to him, shoot), so I stood on one leg with my arms in front of me, then lowered to a sitting position to sit on a jumping-box. Then I had to stand up only using that one leg, six times each leg. No big deal right? Well, with my right leg it wasn't pretty, but I did it. I switched to my left and I gracefully sat on the box then not so gracefully tried to stand. I couldn't. Brief background: I have screwy knees. They've been screwy for years and they'll be screwy for always. Getting doored earlier this year helped NOTHING, and ever since my left knee has had issues, and I don't doubt it's affected the strength of my left leg. While my motto is 'no excuse is a good excuse' that is my explanation.. haha. Anyways so I failed my assessment miserably. After hell and the tour were done, we went to talk to a personal trainer (why? I don't know-- I never said I wanted personal training services... although I obviously needed them). From there it only got worse. They did all their measuring.. height, weight, body fat percentage, diet assessment, blah blah blah. The personal trainer reminded me of GI Jane except she had a long ponytail. Scared the living day lights out of me. She continued to let me know how much improvement I needed to make in every way possible. Mr. Schmooze was sitting and listening to all this jazz, I should have charged him because it was quite a show. After the lady told me how much weight she wanted me to lose, he goes "Yea, that will help with your knee problems that are probably from the extra weight you're carrying." Imagine if your internal organs all turned to lead and just dropped like dead weight in your body. It was almost like an internal atonic seizure. That was brutal. When I informed them that I cannot afford their $50/session personal training services, they shook their heads with pity and said "well, get started with the membership, and maybe in a bit you'll decide to take advantage of this opportunity to get fit." Man alive, what a humbling day. Honestly, I really don't think I am a prime specimen of super fit-ness-- at all. I am grateful to be able to do activities in my life that I want to do. But I had no idea that I was that 'out of control.' Holy toledo. I want to take into consideration the things they said, as they made some valid points: it doesn't matter if I can run for a long time, there is more to being healthy and fit than endurance, I'm not playing soccer anymore, so my strengthening exercises don't have to mirror soccer strengthening... I need more protein-- boca burgers and almonds won't cut it, etc. At the same time, I need to keep it all in perspective and not let their conclusions get to me. My goals are to be healthy long term and to be physically able to do what I want. Right now I'm there, and I could improve definitely, but strides toward getting better have to be made in the right mindset.
What does this have to do with the triathlon... at all? Not sure-- it's just where my mind has been for the past couple of weeks. I also am training for a half marathon that will be on November 1st in Indianapolis. AND (yes, there's more!) I really want to do a half-ironman next year. Late spring-early summer. I have to find one and figure out how practical it is... I'll need a new bike, do I want to do it with TNT again, if not I need a coach or training buddy who's done it before... etc. If I do something I want to do it right, so I just need to figure out what that looks like. It's undeniable that I've been bitten by the triathlon bug, and if it weren't such an expensive sport, I'd embrace my new found enthusiasm for it with open arms. But all the equipment, traveling costs, and things I never thought about are overwhelming. So we'll see. For now I will focus on the half coming up-- my running skills are honestly back to square one. I'm grateful for four miles at an 8min/mile pace. Last year I did an 8k at just over 7:00/mile, and the half marathon in January was 8min/mi. I'm excited, but nervous. I will be really disappointed in myself if my time sucks. That's why I need to find a gym-- I can't run outside here consistently-- either it's POURING or dark.
Don't know if I'll keep up this blog. Leave a comment.
So it's been awhile. I don't have a good explanation for my absence.
The triathlon is over. Incredibly bittersweet. Not having an event to train for has left me lazy and unmotivated-- two traits I despise. I've been looking for a new gym ever since February, but haven't settled on one quite yet. I will be moving apartments at the end of the month, and a lot of my decision depended on where I'd be moving to. Now that we signed a lease, I have to get more serious. The gym I want is 24 hours and close to where I work, however it's 3.1 miles from where I live. "3.1 miles? So what?" You ask. Your scoffing is understandable. 3.1 miles in a car or even on a mild weathered day is a cakewalk, a good warm up! However, it is almost October. Autumn in this city is awesome, but if you blink, you'll miss it. All too soon the harsh Chicago winter will be upon us. To those who are vehicle-less, winters are brutal to a whole new degree. Walking three feet outside your front door is torture, much less venturing an eternal 3.1 miles to the gym. Biking would speed it up, however it is still no walk in the park-- one's hands FREEZE to death, gripping the handle bars, and the already biting wind intensifies when on a bike. Don't forget the ice or grimy snow slush that takes up 5 month residence on the streets, and crazy drivers that refuse to yield to the slickery conditions... it gets ugly. All this leads to my hesitation regarding the 3.1 mile away gym. I've looked at others, and none are impressive. Surprisingly, my ideal place (24 hours, huge, good equipment, spinning classes, etc) is one of the cheaper month-to-month prices. The initiation fee ($249!!!) is where they get ya. Clowns. The one drawback to this awesome place is that the one closest to me doesn't have a pool. There is another that is SEVEN miles away with a pool. I like to swim in the early morning before work.. but if the only place is 7 miles away, I'd have to get up at like 2am (or 2pm when I start on nights... boo) in order to get there, workout, get ready for work, and get to work by 6:53am/pm when I can swipe in. Call me a pansy, but I'm not that hardcore. So I'm just at a standstill! I don't know where to choose. My next choice would be a place that's significantly closer to home, but doesn't have a pool at all... and the hours leave much to be desired. During the week their hours would be acceptable, but on weekends it's open from 8am-7pm. If I'm working from 7am-730pm, I'd be SOL. No thank you. OH DECISIONS! Honestly? I'll probably end up at the 24 hour place. I don't know how I will force myself to go when the temps are subzero and everything, but I can take as long as I want to work up the will power-- it'll be open all day everyday... 24/7/365. That is phenomenal. One other cause of hesitation is that when I went to tour the place, they ripped me apart. I am the first to tell you that I definitely have room to grow in my athleticism, but at the same time I don't think I'm in the depths of despair in this arena, either. The people at my ideal gym, however beg to differ. As we were walking around, Mr. Schmooze goes 'so, you're ready to workout?' I looked at him like a deer in headlights and he goes 'good, stretch out for a couple of SECONDS and I'll get the assessment set up.' Ummm... so I self consciously stretched my quads and calves... I had no idea what was going on. He then ran me through a bunch of circuits. I don't doubt the legitimacy of circuit training and think that theory behind it is awesome. Woo-hoo circuits! However, I haven't ever done circuit training. Ever. So... needless to say it was awful... and his assessment of my physical fitness was 'needs improvement.' There was one thing where he wanted to see how balanced my strength was (which I told him up front, it's unbalanced... don't know why I had to prove it to him, shoot), so I stood on one leg with my arms in front of me, then lowered to a sitting position to sit on a jumping-box. Then I had to stand up only using that one leg, six times each leg. No big deal right? Well, with my right leg it wasn't pretty, but I did it. I switched to my left and I gracefully sat on the box then not so gracefully tried to stand. I couldn't. Brief background: I have screwy knees. They've been screwy for years and they'll be screwy for always. Getting doored earlier this year helped NOTHING, and ever since my left knee has had issues, and I don't doubt it's affected the strength of my left leg. While my motto is 'no excuse is a good excuse' that is my explanation.. haha. Anyways so I failed my assessment miserably. After hell and the tour were done, we went to talk to a personal trainer (why? I don't know-- I never said I wanted personal training services... although I obviously needed them). From there it only got worse. They did all their measuring.. height, weight, body fat percentage, diet assessment, blah blah blah. The personal trainer reminded me of GI Jane except she had a long ponytail. Scared the living day lights out of me. She continued to let me know how much improvement I needed to make in every way possible. Mr. Schmooze was sitting and listening to all this jazz, I should have charged him because it was quite a show. After the lady told me how much weight she wanted me to lose, he goes "Yea, that will help with your knee problems that are probably from the extra weight you're carrying." Imagine if your internal organs all turned to lead and just dropped like dead weight in your body. It was almost like an internal atonic seizure. That was brutal. When I informed them that I cannot afford their $50/session personal training services, they shook their heads with pity and said "well, get started with the membership, and maybe in a bit you'll decide to take advantage of this opportunity to get fit." Man alive, what a humbling day. Honestly, I really don't think I am a prime specimen of super fit-ness-- at all. I am grateful to be able to do activities in my life that I want to do. But I had no idea that I was that 'out of control.' Holy toledo. I want to take into consideration the things they said, as they made some valid points: it doesn't matter if I can run for a long time, there is more to being healthy and fit than endurance, I'm not playing soccer anymore, so my strengthening exercises don't have to mirror soccer strengthening... I need more protein-- boca burgers and almonds won't cut it, etc. At the same time, I need to keep it all in perspective and not let their conclusions get to me. My goals are to be healthy long term and to be physically able to do what I want. Right now I'm there, and I could improve definitely, but strides toward getting better have to be made in the right mindset.
What does this have to do with the triathlon... at all? Not sure-- it's just where my mind has been for the past couple of weeks. I also am training for a half marathon that will be on November 1st in Indianapolis. AND (yes, there's more!) I really want to do a half-ironman next year. Late spring-early summer. I have to find one and figure out how practical it is... I'll need a new bike, do I want to do it with TNT again, if not I need a coach or training buddy who's done it before... etc. If I do something I want to do it right, so I just need to figure out what that looks like. It's undeniable that I've been bitten by the triathlon bug, and if it weren't such an expensive sport, I'd embrace my new found enthusiasm for it with open arms. But all the equipment, traveling costs, and things I never thought about are overwhelming. So we'll see. For now I will focus on the half coming up-- my running skills are honestly back to square one. I'm grateful for four miles at an 8min/mile pace. Last year I did an 8k at just over 7:00/mile, and the half marathon in January was 8min/mi. I'm excited, but nervous. I will be really disappointed in myself if my time sucks. That's why I need to find a gym-- I can't run outside here consistently-- either it's POURING or dark.
Don't know if I'll keep up this blog. Leave a comment.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
small debrief
Phew.
So the triathlon is over. It is incredibly bittersweet. I no longer have the anxiety devil sitting on my shoulder saying 'are you sure you're ready? you could probably practice open-water swimming some more... you should get used to your bike some more... maybe another brick workout would be a good idea... do you have everything?... what will you do if __________ happens? how will you get down to the race? how will you get back?' on and on and on.
But at the same time... I want something to train for again. I thoroughly enjoy working out and everything, but there is nothing more motivating that having an event to train for. The fact that THIS event was so loaded with its good cause (LLS-- whoop whoop) made it even better.
So, TNT raised over $300,000 for LLS through the Chicago Triathlon. JOB WELL DONE. Each of you who donated can claim part in that $300,000 that will enable LLS to conduct research to cure blood cancers. At the pasta dinner, one of our Teammates spoke about her battle with blood cancer. It blows my mind how de-sensitized I can get to the concept of cancer. The second I hear somebody talk about their own struggle with it, the significance of the illness overwhelms me. When I hear about THEIR hair falling out after chemo, THEIR depression that resulted after the diagnosis and continued because of their lack of support system, THEIR families who were torn apart by this deadly diagnosis that takes every priority one HAD in life, throws it out the window and takes up residence as the first, second and third priority in life. When I hear about THEIR battle I am heartbroken and honestly-- angry. We're supposedly an intelligent nation. Even if not filled with the smartest of people we certainly have some top-notch equipment and resources, right? Why haven't we cured this disease that is plaguing so many people at a nauseatingly rapid rate? Why haven't we done what we actually CAN DO to prevent these people from going bald, falling to depression and losing their families? I get mad at everyone around me who hasn't done what they can, and I get mad at myself. It seems like you can't go a day without seeing "send money for this disaster relief" or "sponsor our charity runner" or "support me as I do missions abroad." Selfishly, I've ignored those dawning the pathetic excuse I'm a student, I can't afford it, or more recently, I just graduated...I don't have a financial cushion yet, I can't donate. So what. To the woman who wakes up with another CLUMP of hair on her pillow, my donation would mean the world. Not only would it be a chip in the stone of finding a cure to the illness that is slowly and greedily killing her, but it would also show her that she has support. People care. People will sacrifice their comfort in life to help her hold on to hers. I get mad that more isn't being done, but then I get frustrated because there are so many opportunities to donate to these things. Like I said, it's a daily bombardment of people seeking support for their genuinely worthy causes. How can I show them that I actually support them and what they're doing without going absolutely bankrupt??? I think that has actually helped me to not be so jaded towards ...the world, haha. Just because someone didn't donate to LLS through my participation in the triathlon with TNT doesn't mean they don't care and doesn't mean they don't support legit things outside of LLS. ANYWAYS-- regardless of my internal turmoil about society and myself... $300,000 is fantastic and I am just so proud of everyone who donated both monetarily and of resources, encouragement, prayers, and good vibes. I could not have done this race and this fundraising without each of you. THANK YOU. With every ounce of my being, thank you so much for the support you have given me and ultimately everyone affected by blood cancers.
Man, I get riled up too easy. More later. I'm currently looking for another triathlon. I have somethings to fix.
So the triathlon is over. It is incredibly bittersweet. I no longer have the anxiety devil sitting on my shoulder saying 'are you sure you're ready? you could probably practice open-water swimming some more... you should get used to your bike some more... maybe another brick workout would be a good idea... do you have everything?... what will you do if __________ happens? how will you get down to the race? how will you get back?' on and on and on.
But at the same time... I want something to train for again. I thoroughly enjoy working out and everything, but there is nothing more motivating that having an event to train for. The fact that THIS event was so loaded with its good cause (LLS-- whoop whoop) made it even better.
So, TNT raised over $300,000 for LLS through the Chicago Triathlon. JOB WELL DONE. Each of you who donated can claim part in that $300,000 that will enable LLS to conduct research to cure blood cancers. At the pasta dinner, one of our Teammates spoke about her battle with blood cancer. It blows my mind how de-sensitized I can get to the concept of cancer. The second I hear somebody talk about their own struggle with it, the significance of the illness overwhelms me. When I hear about THEIR hair falling out after chemo, THEIR depression that resulted after the diagnosis and continued because of their lack of support system, THEIR families who were torn apart by this deadly diagnosis that takes every priority one HAD in life, throws it out the window and takes up residence as the first, second and third priority in life. When I hear about THEIR battle I am heartbroken and honestly-- angry. We're supposedly an intelligent nation. Even if not filled with the smartest of people we certainly have some top-notch equipment and resources, right? Why haven't we cured this disease that is plaguing so many people at a nauseatingly rapid rate? Why haven't we done what we actually CAN DO to prevent these people from going bald, falling to depression and losing their families? I get mad at everyone around me who hasn't done what they can, and I get mad at myself. It seems like you can't go a day without seeing "send money for this disaster relief" or "sponsor our charity runner" or "support me as I do missions abroad." Selfishly, I've ignored those dawning the pathetic excuse I'm a student, I can't afford it, or more recently, I just graduated...I don't have a financial cushion yet, I can't donate. So what. To the woman who wakes up with another CLUMP of hair on her pillow, my donation would mean the world. Not only would it be a chip in the stone of finding a cure to the illness that is slowly and greedily killing her, but it would also show her that she has support. People care. People will sacrifice their comfort in life to help her hold on to hers. I get mad that more isn't being done, but then I get frustrated because there are so many opportunities to donate to these things. Like I said, it's a daily bombardment of people seeking support for their genuinely worthy causes. How can I show them that I actually support them and what they're doing without going absolutely bankrupt??? I think that has actually helped me to not be so jaded towards ...the world, haha. Just because someone didn't donate to LLS through my participation in the triathlon with TNT doesn't mean they don't care and doesn't mean they don't support legit things outside of LLS. ANYWAYS-- regardless of my internal turmoil about society and myself... $300,000 is fantastic and I am just so proud of everyone who donated both monetarily and of resources, encouragement, prayers, and good vibes. I could not have done this race and this fundraising without each of you. THANK YOU. With every ounce of my being, thank you so much for the support you have given me and ultimately everyone affected by blood cancers.
Man, I get riled up too easy. More later. I'm currently looking for another triathlon. I have somethings to fix.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Well, I'm sure if you've read this thing once before, you are aware of my habit of being over-wordy. Since the triathlon was the climax of all previous posts, I will do my best to be concise and not draw it out too much. That being said...
The Triathlon. Oh boy.
It all started Saturday morning with the GIANT expo downtown. I was there for two and a half hours, getting
my packet and swim cap, looking at all the excessive accessories I could indulge in, and listening to the course talk. I finally tore myself away and headed back home. I stopped at Walgreen's on the way and bought 64 ounces of Gatorade, 5 Clif Bars (5 for $5-- I'm a sucker for a sale), waterproof mascara, and gum. So I scurried home with much more baggage than I left with (between the expo and Walgreen's, I was getting an extra lifting session in!). At my apartment I overtook the living room and spread out everything I'd need on race day. That included three swim caps, two swim suits, my race number and belt, wetsuit, two pairs of goggles, helmet, 'triathlon shorts,' TNT top and t-shirt (still hadn't decided which I'd wear..), bike tools, bike pack, hydration pack, shoes, flip flops, towel, three water bottles, Clif Bars, gum, change of clothes, and much more. Crazy! I soon realized it was time to go to th
e TNT Pasta Dinner that started at 6pm downtown. There, we ate buttery pasta and white bread while learning about our fundraising totals, the future goals of TNT, and heard one of our Teammate's personal battle with blood cancer. It was nice to have that time to be motivated by the fundraising numbers (over $300,000 by the Chicago team-- PHENOMENAL!!!) and to mentally prepare for the ensuing race. Admittedly, my mind was wandering-- I was trying to figure out how quickly I could get to bed! I left the pasta party around 8pm, got home by 9:15. There was still some l
ast minute preparing to do which included putting everything that was spread out on the floor in my bag and 
trying on all the spandex one last time to make sure it wasn't TOO appalling. I was SUPER nervous... but forced myself to believe that I was READY.
So, I set my alarm for 2:00am (!!!) and prayed that I wouldn't oversleep. I woke up at 12:30 and was deliriously convinced it was 3:30am. OH NO! I AM SO LATE! I JUMPED out of bed (dangerous-- I have
a loft!) and started to get my things together. As I scurried to get my water bottles out of the freezer, I saw the time on the oven 12:34. You've got to be kidding me. I shuffled back to my bedroom both relieved and irritated. I did end up oversleeping, but only by 30 minutes. I'd prepared for this as I didn't really have to get up until 2:30. I nervously got ready then headed out. I'd originally planned to take the El downtown because I wanted to save my legs for the race. This made me nervous, though, because the El is under construction which screws everything up no matter how diligently one plans. I even asked the CTA worker on my way home from the pasta party what I could do to get downtown by 4am the following morning. He looked at me like I was nuts and then called someone and said I could take the Red Line. Doable. However, I just didn't trust it. So as I rode the Iron Horse to the nearest Red Line stop, I hesitated and ended up riding past it, halfway on purpose. I spontaneously decided to nix that plan and to just ride down to Transition. It was about a 6 mile ride, a perfect warm up. You may recall my whining about the popularity and crowded-ness of the Lake Front trail in the past, but I have found a solution to that: ride at 3:30 in the morning and it is EMPTY. It was one of the best rides I've ever had on that trail! There were a couple of people I noticed along the way who were still enjoying their Saturday night. One couple was even reproducing right there on the side of the trail-- gutsy. The trail is great until you get to Navy Pier, then it gets funny. At this point I saw someone else who looked Triathlon-bound and decided to follow them because I had no idea where to go. I watched as he followed a car that was closing the on ramp to Lake Shore Drive (as this is where the bike leg would be taking place). Since it was closed, the biker went up the on ramp. I decided to follow my fellow idiot in hopes it would get me to Transition in time. Well, just because the on ramp is closed doesn't mean all cars are off the highway! That was an adrenaline rush... if I wasn't quite awake yet, the sound of super speedy cars not far from me sure did the trick! Fortunately my daredevil leader got off at the next opportunity and we were spit out right at transition at 4:15am. Perfect timing. Phew.
I put my number on my bike and helmet, strapped the timing chip on my ankle, and wheeled in to the mini-city also kno
wn as Transition. Holy canoli it was HUGE. To capture its enormity, one would need to be in an airplane. It was pitch black and people were rushing around like morons, convinced they'd win the race and everyone around them was some peon in their way. Psh. I was relieved to find the rack for my wave (46 of 54.. sick), and then to find some of my Teammates that were in my wave. We set our space up and then I walked the Transition area with one of them. We went from the 'Swim In' to our bikes, then to the 'Bike Out,' which was also the bike in. We then went back to our spot, then to the 'Run Out.' That was probably one of the best things I did, because had I not done it, I would have been painfully lost during the race! Walking it allowed me to be oriented 
within Transition and to find landmarks to look for during the race that would help me find my spot faster and be more efficient. We then ventured over to the swim start where we'd WAIT for FIVE HOURS!!! Wave 46 didn't start until 9:21am. PAINFUL. Despite our later start, we still had to arrive at 4:15am because transition closed at 5:45am and with 8,700 participants signed up, I didn't want to be one of the late comers trying to fight my way in amongst the masses at the last minute. The swim start was a good jaunt from Transition, and as we walked along the lake the sun was starting to rise. It was BEAUTIFUL. The sunrise alone would have made it worth it to wake up at 
2:30. 
We continued on like ants in a line. There were so many people there, I started to get uneasy. By the time we actually got to the start, the first wave was lining up. Even though I still had about three and a half hours until my start, I felt like I was late! The race was starting and I was JUST getting there!! I lined up with the spectators to watch them go. I really wanted to see how this 
whole swim start would go down-- I'd heard so many rumors of assault and pure mayhem. I soon s
aw, and would later experience, that they were not rumors, but fair warnings. After scaring myself even more so, I went to find the TNT 'spot' a few hundred yards from the Swim Start. Then I waited... for eternity. Essentially, everyone would have to wait on race day-- either for their wave to start (if you had a late start), or for transition to re-open (if you had an early start). I waited before I raced which would have been my last choice because I psych myself out before things like this. I psych myself out before I go running on my own if I'm given too much time to think about it much less the largest triathlon IN THE WORLD! So for the next three-ish hours I hydrated, ate a Clif Bar and an orange, and wre
stled with butterflies. At one point, herky-jerky hip coach came up to me and said: "For the swim, get in the second row. You're a strong swimmer and belong in the front. Hold your ground. If you stay in back, you'll spend the first couple hundred yards fighting through people." I looked at him quite puzzled... this was the man who told me that I was a pretty pathetic swimmer due to my lack of abdominal muscles (remember: "Do you do any ab work.. at all???"). So I said 'well, okay,' but was really thinking WHAT?! That ruined my whole plan! I was totally content hanging out in the back and letting the crazies beat each other up and disperse, then commence my race! I had zero plan of getting in there and swimming through people AND water! Shoot.
Lets discuss hydrating: it is SO important in these things-- dehydration renders one USELESS and unable to perform, much less perform well. So, I hydrated. However, hydrating makes one have to use the restroom SO MUCH. Even at the expo the day before I had to hit the ladies room FOUR different times! So race morning I was hurting. There were porta-potties near the Swim Start, but the lines for them were astronomical. I broke down and went over there at 7:45am and waited for THIRTY MINUTES! I've never been so eager to get to a porta-potty. After waiting so long, I vowed that I wouldn't go back before I started. So I went back to waiting. About 30 minutes before my race I checked the gear I'd brought with me (flip flops, hoodie, extra cap and goggles, etc) and started to put my wetsuit on. Since returning from the porta potties, I'd been denying the fact I had to go again. By this time though I couldn't deny it any longer, I had to GO! But I refused-- if I did go at this point I would miss my start and that was not an option. So I waddled over to the line up which was right at the edge of the lake. Like cattle we went into our fenced area and moved closer when we were told. I must have looked like a kindergartner, because I was performing the "I GOTTA GO" dance. I was so overwhelmed by my nerves and my about-to-rupture bladder.. I just didn't know what to do with myself. When we were finally the next wave to go, I was near death, but managed to turn around and look at all the people watching. That helped ZERO. I also got a little sad-- so many people were there supporting their friends or family... huge signs and loud cheers for what seemed like EVERYONE. I was sad to not have someone there cheering for me in particular but then I remembered all the emails and text messages I'd received in the previous days/weeks/months offering more encouragement and motivation than I could have ever asked for. Before I knew it it was my turn to jump in the water. As soon as I did, I let loose-- I could not hold it anymore... and it's almost an expected thing for people to relieve themselves once in the water. I hate the excuse 'Well, everyone does it," but this time I have to use it. The last injury I expected to encounter on race day was a burst bladder. Somewhat relieved, I heard the countdown "5..4..3..2..1..BEEP!" Holy toledo. Imagine 150 people treading water. They're crowded in a small space in a vertical position. Now imagine 150 vertical people in a small space all suddenly and simultaneously shifting to a horizontal position and KICKING AND FLAPPING LIKE LUNATICS whilst doing so. I'd been warned, but nothing could have fully prepared me for the absolute MAYHEM that was the beginning of the swim. I'd decided to follow Herky-Jerky Hip Coach's advice and get to the start. I'm all about doing what it takes to get the best time possible. Being at the front meant I was amongst the crazies that think they're going to win the whole thing and will take out anyone who stands (or floats) in their way. I was kicked, slapped, and violated in many ways. I wanted to hop out of the lake, let them go and then start when no one was there. I decided to stick it out and just pray that I didn't take a blow to the face. I may have contributed at one point... I grabbed someone's ankle and pulled myself forward... hehe. For at least 400 yards people swam over me under me, tried to swim up my wetsuit. I have personal space issues to being with-- this really pushed them and me overboard. I was getting panicky and started wheezing. HELL NO. I REFUSE to have an asthma attack this early in the race! If a lifeguard has to assist you and pull you out, your race is over. I didn't work hard all summer to wuss out in the first five minutes. So I wheezed along and finally it thinned out a little. I got into a rhythm and swam the best I could given the conditions. I turned at the buoy, encountering more bodies and attack (as I've told a couple people already-- a whole new meaning to the breast stroke!!!). After the turn it was a straight shot to the swim finish. IT seemed to take forever. Once I got into my rhythm and what not I was passing people and feeling good. I couldn't hear my breathing anymore (always a plus) and I was using my sighting stroke to avoid swimming to Michigan. I was even passing people from the wave before me. I felt good, but I was ready for the swim to be over. Every now and then I'd come up to someone who was flailing about like a mad person and would fall victim to their spastic movements. I finally reached the finish wher
e it got very physical again-- people were determined to get OUT of that water and would not let me get in their way-- I got kicked in the HEAD at the swim finish! Seriously. The water along the swim was deep-- too deep to touch, so at the end they had steps that resembled bleachers to help the swimmers out. There were also volunteers to give us a hand as we regained our land legs. I am very grateful for those that pulled me up and out of the water. It would have been ugly without their steady hands! Out of the water I pulled down my wet suit and yanked off my cap and goggles. It was a quarter mile jog to transition which I was fine with, except it was on pavement and we were barefoot. That jog hurt my feet SO BADLY. I never even expected it to be that awful, but it was terrible and my feet STILL hurt-- I honestly think they're bruised. I looked so goofy limping along! I barely made it back to my bike and immediately socked and shoed my throbbing dogs. I threw on my helmet and hydration pack and was off to the 'Bike Out.' The bike was so much better than I thought it would be and I am so proud of the IRON HORSE! She did so great! (Shout out to ELEMENT MULTI SPORT for getting her ready for the race!) The bike leg took place on Lake Shore Drive. We went from transition (Lake Shore and Randolph) up to Foster Avenue and back-- TWICE. Winds were a bear coming from the north, so that part was AWFUL, but going south was much better. I am eternally grateful for the hydration pack my parents sent in their "Triathlon Survival Kit," as I would have been way too chicken to reach down for my water bottle! The hydration pack allowed me to drink as much as I wanted through an easily accessible straw. I'd filled it with Gatorade which was a good move since I sweat like a sweaty man and needed to replace those electrolytes if I wanted to finish the run leg that was coming up. The pot holes on Lake Shore are PAINFUL. Literally. With IH's new tires, there is much less cushion/tolerance for disturbances in the road's flat-ness. AND the "Drive" is much more hilly than I EVER gave it credit for. Yea, we're in the midwest, but holy cow, ther eare some significant inclines. I finished the bike and felt somewhat good about it-- the new tires on Iron Horse and her new ability to shift (still kinda shotty, but way better) made all the difference and cut 33 minutes off my time from when I'd practiced! It took me longer than I'd hoped to park my bike. I couldn't get it turned around the way it needed to be in order to get it up on the rack. Also, my neatly organized transition area had been torn to pieces by the other clowns who'd flown through. Obnoxiuos. Regardless, I parked IH, de-helmeted, de-hydration packed, clipped on my race belt and took off. Actually I waddled off. My legs were absolutely shot. They wouldn't move. AND I had to got to the bathroom again! No matter how I begged and pleaded with my legs, they were throwing a temper tantrum and compliance was not happening. I settled fo
r one foot in front of the other at a painfully slow pace for the fist half mile. Then I spotted porta-potties. I debated for maybe a milli-second: Should I stop and go? YES. I pulled over and did what I had to do. In hind-sight I'm really glad I did.. it would have been ugly trying to hold it for the next six miles. Even still, my legs were failing me. At mile 2 they came back for a couple of minutes and I thought "phew!" but by mile three there was nothing left within them. They were screaming at me and my kneeds threatened to buckle ANY SECOND. They sta right on the fence of being so painful they were numb-- but not quite yet. I gladly accepted fluids at each available opportunity except the first one. The first Gatorade I grabbed I tried to drink in the middle of running-- bad idea, I ended up with Gatorade everywhere but my mouth-- all over my face, sunglasses, shirt... and I was still thirsty. The next time I briefly paused and took it in like it was a shot, then kept going. At the next fluid table I took water and just dumped it on me which was so refreshing. People were lined up to cheer at the very beginning and thevery end of the run, but between mile 2 and 5 there was nothing, and that is when I needed it most. Those three miles were eerily quiet. I didnt' have my headphones to distract me and all I could hear was the panting and footsteps of my fellow runners. My lungs were fine because I was going SO PAINFULLY S
LOW, but my legs were just not functioning. Everything form my quads down BEGGED me to stop-- even just for a minute; walk, even, just take SOME sort of a break. I promised myself long ago that I would NOT walk any part of the run, so I refused to grant the wishes of my lower extremities. Somehow I ended up at mile 5 and people started cheering again and that raised my spirits a little bit. I could hear the cheers from the finish line, and spectators kept saying "Almost there! Keep going!" "OKAY!" I replied, somewhat delerious... At mile 6 I was so relieved. I was 0.2 miles from being done with my first triathlon. Bittersweet, to be honest. It's been such a journey up to this point, and crossing the finish line meant it'd be over. Don't worry, I didn't hesitate, I may have even sped up a little. A whole swell of emotions came up in that last stretch and I won't ever forget it.
Once across the finish line I was filled with relief. I could speak or even really walk straight. I aproached the Chip Clippers (volunteers who take on the sweaty task of clipping off the timing chips we strapped to our ankles) and had to convince my foot to go up on to the step. I sauntered forward rather aimlessly. My head was super foggy and I wanted to be more alert than I was but I needed some glucose in order to get there. Fortunately, I approached a Gatorade table and with a couple of swallows I started to come back. I then came up to the bagel and banana table and enthusiastically partook. At the end of the finish-line area I saw a man sprawled out on the ground, face up with his arms extended and eyes closed. Oh, Lord, I'm going to have to do CPR. "Sir, are you okay?" I asked. No response. Dangit. I nudged his toe with mine and he opened one eye looked me like I was the devil himself. "Are you okay, Sir???" I asked again. He nodded and so I accepted that, begging for any reason to avoid mouth to mouth, I'd left my face mask at home. I exited transition and continued to follow the masses. Eventually I decided I should have a destination. I decided to make my way back to the swim start so I could get the gear that I'd checked there-- including my phone, camera, and wallet... silly things like that. The bags were lined up along the lake in number order, but there was a two foot step down to get to them. I looked at the step and chuckeld. I was barely able to walk, much less make that jump. Fortunately, there was a nice young man that was there to help sad souls like me. I accepted his strong arm and proceeded to get my belongings, then accepted his strong arm again to get me back up. Small perks of being a triathlete, I guess. =) At transition, I found two of my good friends who had come to watch the festivities! It was SO GREAT to see familiar faces. Yea, I'd had the TNT family there supporting me along the way, but it was extra great to see people outside of the triathlon world there to say 'Congratuatlions.' We all walked to the El where I somehow found the strength to hoist Iron Horse up the 8,000 stairs and into the platform, then on to the El, then back downthe platform once at my stop. I slowly biked home, receiving odd stares along the way. I looked pretty rough at this point, no doubt and wasn't moving all too quickly.
So that is most of the race. I will write more on what has happened since later. I give you much credit and congratulations if you have made it this far.
The Triathlon. Oh boy.
It all started Saturday morning with the GIANT expo downtown. I was there for two and a half hours, getting
my packet and swim cap, looking at all the excessive accessories I could indulge in, and listening to the course talk. I finally tore myself away and headed back home. I stopped at Walgreen's on the way and bought 64 ounces of Gatorade, 5 Clif Bars (5 for $5-- I'm a sucker for a sale), waterproof mascara, and gum. So I scurried home with much more baggage than I left with (between the expo and Walgreen's, I was getting an extra lifting session in!). At my apartment I overtook the living room and spread out everything I'd need on race day. That included three swim caps, two swim suits, my race number and belt, wetsuit, two pairs of goggles, helmet, 'triathlon shorts,' TNT top and t-shirt (still hadn't decided which I'd wear..), bike tools, bike pack, hydration pack, shoes, flip flops, towel, three water bottles, Clif Bars, gum, change of clothes, and much more. Crazy! I soon realized it was time to go to th
e TNT Pasta Dinner that started at 6pm downtown. There, we ate buttery pasta and white bread while learning about our fundraising totals, the future goals of TNT, and heard one of our Teammate's personal battle with blood cancer. It was nice to have that time to be motivated by the fundraising numbers (over $300,000 by the Chicago team-- PHENOMENAL!!!) and to mentally prepare for the ensuing race. Admittedly, my mind was wandering-- I was trying to figure out how quickly I could get to bed! I left the pasta party around 8pm, got home by 9:15. There was still some l
ast minute preparing to do which included putting everything that was spread out on the floor in my bag and 
trying on all the spandex one last time to make sure it wasn't TOO appalling. I was SUPER nervous... but forced myself to believe that I was READY.So, I set my alarm for 2:00am (!!!) and prayed that I wouldn't oversleep. I woke up at 12:30 and was deliriously convinced it was 3:30am. OH NO! I AM SO LATE! I JUMPED out of bed (dangerous-- I have
a loft!) and started to get my things together. As I scurried to get my water bottles out of the freezer, I saw the time on the oven 12:34. You've got to be kidding me. I shuffled back to my bedroom both relieved and irritated. I did end up oversleeping, but only by 30 minutes. I'd prepared for this as I didn't really have to get up until 2:30. I nervously got ready then headed out. I'd originally planned to take the El downtown because I wanted to save my legs for the race. This made me nervous, though, because the El is under construction which screws everything up no matter how diligently one plans. I even asked the CTA worker on my way home from the pasta party what I could do to get downtown by 4am the following morning. He looked at me like I was nuts and then called someone and said I could take the Red Line. Doable. However, I just didn't trust it. So as I rode the Iron Horse to the nearest Red Line stop, I hesitated and ended up riding past it, halfway on purpose. I spontaneously decided to nix that plan and to just ride down to Transition. It was about a 6 mile ride, a perfect warm up. You may recall my whining about the popularity and crowded-ness of the Lake Front trail in the past, but I have found a solution to that: ride at 3:30 in the morning and it is EMPTY. It was one of the best rides I've ever had on that trail! There were a couple of people I noticed along the way who were still enjoying their Saturday night. One couple was even reproducing right there on the side of the trail-- gutsy. The trail is great until you get to Navy Pier, then it gets funny. At this point I saw someone else who looked Triathlon-bound and decided to follow them because I had no idea where to go. I watched as he followed a car that was closing the on ramp to Lake Shore Drive (as this is where the bike leg would be taking place). Since it was closed, the biker went up the on ramp. I decided to follow my fellow idiot in hopes it would get me to Transition in time. Well, just because the on ramp is closed doesn't mean all cars are off the highway! That was an adrenaline rush... if I wasn't quite awake yet, the sound of super speedy cars not far from me sure did the trick! Fortunately my daredevil leader got off at the next opportunity and we were spit out right at transition at 4:15am. Perfect timing. Phew.I put my number on my bike and helmet, strapped the timing chip on my ankle, and wheeled in to the mini-city also kno
wn as Transition. Holy canoli it was HUGE. To capture its enormity, one would need to be in an airplane. It was pitch black and people were rushing around like morons, convinced they'd win the race and everyone around them was some peon in their way. Psh. I was relieved to find the rack for my wave (46 of 54.. sick), and then to find some of my Teammates that were in my wave. We set our space up and then I walked the Transition area with one of them. We went from the 'Swim In' to our bikes, then to the 'Bike Out,' which was also the bike in. We then went back to our spot, then to the 'Run Out.' That was probably one of the best things I did, because had I not done it, I would have been painfully lost during the race! Walking it allowed me to be oriented 
within Transition and to find landmarks to look for during the race that would help me find my spot faster and be more efficient. We then ventured over to the swim start where we'd WAIT for FIVE HOURS!!! Wave 46 didn't start until 9:21am. PAINFUL. Despite our later start, we still had to arrive at 4:15am because transition closed at 5:45am and with 8,700 participants signed up, I didn't want to be one of the late comers trying to fight my way in amongst the masses at the last minute. The swim start was a good jaunt from Transition, and as we walked along the lake the sun was starting to rise. It was BEAUTIFUL. The sunrise alone would have made it worth it to wake up at 
2:30. 
We continued on like ants in a line. There were so many people there, I started to get uneasy. By the time we actually got to the start, the first wave was lining up. Even though I still had about three and a half hours until my start, I felt like I was late! The race was starting and I was JUST getting there!! I lined up with the spectators to watch them go. I really wanted to see how this 
whole swim start would go down-- I'd heard so many rumors of assault and pure mayhem. I soon s
aw, and would later experience, that they were not rumors, but fair warnings. After scaring myself even more so, I went to find the TNT 'spot' a few hundred yards from the Swim Start. Then I waited... for eternity. Essentially, everyone would have to wait on race day-- either for their wave to start (if you had a late start), or for transition to re-open (if you had an early start). I waited before I raced which would have been my last choice because I psych myself out before things like this. I psych myself out before I go running on my own if I'm given too much time to think about it much less the largest triathlon IN THE WORLD! So for the next three-ish hours I hydrated, ate a Clif Bar and an orange, and wre
stled with butterflies. At one point, herky-jerky hip coach came up to me and said: "For the swim, get in the second row. You're a strong swimmer and belong in the front. Hold your ground. If you stay in back, you'll spend the first couple hundred yards fighting through people." I looked at him quite puzzled... this was the man who told me that I was a pretty pathetic swimmer due to my lack of abdominal muscles (remember: "Do you do any ab work.. at all???"). So I said 'well, okay,' but was really thinking WHAT?! That ruined my whole plan! I was totally content hanging out in the back and letting the crazies beat each other up and disperse, then commence my race! I had zero plan of getting in there and swimming through people AND water! Shoot.Lets discuss hydrating: it is SO important in these things-- dehydration renders one USELESS and unable to perform, much less perform well. So, I hydrated. However, hydrating makes one have to use the restroom SO MUCH. Even at the expo the day before I had to hit the ladies room FOUR different times! So race morning I was hurting. There were porta-potties near the Swim Start, but the lines for them were astronomical. I broke down and went over there at 7:45am and waited for THIRTY MINUTES! I've never been so eager to get to a porta-potty. After waiting so long, I vowed that I wouldn't go back before I started. So I went back to waiting. About 30 minutes before my race I checked the gear I'd brought with me (flip flops, hoodie, extra cap and goggles, etc) and started to put my wetsuit on. Since returning from the porta potties, I'd been denying the fact I had to go again. By this time though I couldn't deny it any longer, I had to GO! But I refused-- if I did go at this point I would miss my start and that was not an option. So I waddled over to the line up which was right at the edge of the lake. Like cattle we went into our fenced area and moved closer when we were told. I must have looked like a kindergartner, because I was performing the "I GOTTA GO" dance. I was so overwhelmed by my nerves and my about-to-rupture bladder.. I just didn't know what to do with myself. When we were finally the next wave to go, I was near death, but managed to turn around and look at all the people watching. That helped ZERO. I also got a little sad-- so many people were there supporting their friends or family... huge signs and loud cheers for what seemed like EVERYONE. I was sad to not have someone there cheering for me in particular but then I remembered all the emails and text messages I'd received in the previous days/weeks/months offering more encouragement and motivation than I could have ever asked for. Before I knew it it was my turn to jump in the water. As soon as I did, I let loose-- I could not hold it anymore... and it's almost an expected thing for people to relieve themselves once in the water. I hate the excuse 'Well, everyone does it," but this time I have to use it. The last injury I expected to encounter on race day was a burst bladder. Somewhat relieved, I heard the countdown "5..4..3..2..1..BEEP!" Holy toledo. Imagine 150 people treading water. They're crowded in a small space in a vertical position. Now imagine 150 vertical people in a small space all suddenly and simultaneously shifting to a horizontal position and KICKING AND FLAPPING LIKE LUNATICS whilst doing so. I'd been warned, but nothing could have fully prepared me for the absolute MAYHEM that was the beginning of the swim. I'd decided to follow Herky-Jerky Hip Coach's advice and get to the start. I'm all about doing what it takes to get the best time possible. Being at the front meant I was amongst the crazies that think they're going to win the whole thing and will take out anyone who stands (or floats) in their way. I was kicked, slapped, and violated in many ways. I wanted to hop out of the lake, let them go and then start when no one was there. I decided to stick it out and just pray that I didn't take a blow to the face. I may have contributed at one point... I grabbed someone's ankle and pulled myself forward... hehe. For at least 400 yards people swam over me under me, tried to swim up my wetsuit. I have personal space issues to being with-- this really pushed them and me overboard. I was getting panicky and started wheezing. HELL NO. I REFUSE to have an asthma attack this early in the race! If a lifeguard has to assist you and pull you out, your race is over. I didn't work hard all summer to wuss out in the first five minutes. So I wheezed along and finally it thinned out a little. I got into a rhythm and swam the best I could given the conditions. I turned at the buoy, encountering more bodies and attack (as I've told a couple people already-- a whole new meaning to the breast stroke!!!). After the turn it was a straight shot to the swim finish. IT seemed to take forever. Once I got into my rhythm and what not I was passing people and feeling good. I couldn't hear my breathing anymore (always a plus) and I was using my sighting stroke to avoid swimming to Michigan. I was even passing people from the wave before me. I felt good, but I was ready for the swim to be over. Every now and then I'd come up to someone who was flailing about like a mad person and would fall victim to their spastic movements. I finally reached the finish wher
e it got very physical again-- people were determined to get OUT of that water and would not let me get in their way-- I got kicked in the HEAD at the swim finish! Seriously. The water along the swim was deep-- too deep to touch, so at the end they had steps that resembled bleachers to help the swimmers out. There were also volunteers to give us a hand as we regained our land legs. I am very grateful for those that pulled me up and out of the water. It would have been ugly without their steady hands! Out of the water I pulled down my wet suit and yanked off my cap and goggles. It was a quarter mile jog to transition which I was fine with, except it was on pavement and we were barefoot. That jog hurt my feet SO BADLY. I never even expected it to be that awful, but it was terrible and my feet STILL hurt-- I honestly think they're bruised. I looked so goofy limping along! I barely made it back to my bike and immediately socked and shoed my throbbing dogs. I threw on my helmet and hydration pack and was off to the 'Bike Out.' The bike was so much better than I thought it would be and I am so proud of the IRON HORSE! She did so great! (Shout out to ELEMENT MULTI SPORT for getting her ready for the race!) The bike leg took place on Lake Shore Drive. We went from transition (Lake Shore and Randolph) up to Foster Avenue and back-- TWICE. Winds were a bear coming from the north, so that part was AWFUL, but going south was much better. I am eternally grateful for the hydration pack my parents sent in their "Triathlon Survival Kit," as I would have been way too chicken to reach down for my water bottle! The hydration pack allowed me to drink as much as I wanted through an easily accessible straw. I'd filled it with Gatorade which was a good move since I sweat like a sweaty man and needed to replace those electrolytes if I wanted to finish the run leg that was coming up. The pot holes on Lake Shore are PAINFUL. Literally. With IH's new tires, there is much less cushion/tolerance for disturbances in the road's flat-ness. AND the "Drive" is much more hilly than I EVER gave it credit for. Yea, we're in the midwest, but holy cow, ther eare some significant inclines. I finished the bike and felt somewhat good about it-- the new tires on Iron Horse and her new ability to shift (still kinda shotty, but way better) made all the difference and cut 33 minutes off my time from when I'd practiced! It took me longer than I'd hoped to park my bike. I couldn't get it turned around the way it needed to be in order to get it up on the rack. Also, my neatly organized transition area had been torn to pieces by the other clowns who'd flown through. Obnoxiuos. Regardless, I parked IH, de-helmeted, de-hydration packed, clipped on my race belt and took off. Actually I waddled off. My legs were absolutely shot. They wouldn't move. AND I had to got to the bathroom again! No matter how I begged and pleaded with my legs, they were throwing a temper tantrum and compliance was not happening. I settled fo
r one foot in front of the other at a painfully slow pace for the fist half mile. Then I spotted porta-potties. I debated for maybe a milli-second: Should I stop and go? YES. I pulled over and did what I had to do. In hind-sight I'm really glad I did.. it would have been ugly trying to hold it for the next six miles. Even still, my legs were failing me. At mile 2 they came back for a couple of minutes and I thought "phew!" but by mile three there was nothing left within them. They were screaming at me and my kneeds threatened to buckle ANY SECOND. They sta right on the fence of being so painful they were numb-- but not quite yet. I gladly accepted fluids at each available opportunity except the first one. The first Gatorade I grabbed I tried to drink in the middle of running-- bad idea, I ended up with Gatorade everywhere but my mouth-- all over my face, sunglasses, shirt... and I was still thirsty. The next time I briefly paused and took it in like it was a shot, then kept going. At the next fluid table I took water and just dumped it on me which was so refreshing. People were lined up to cheer at the very beginning and thevery end of the run, but between mile 2 and 5 there was nothing, and that is when I needed it most. Those three miles were eerily quiet. I didnt' have my headphones to distract me and all I could hear was the panting and footsteps of my fellow runners. My lungs were fine because I was going SO PAINFULLY S
LOW, but my legs were just not functioning. Everything form my quads down BEGGED me to stop-- even just for a minute; walk, even, just take SOME sort of a break. I promised myself long ago that I would NOT walk any part of the run, so I refused to grant the wishes of my lower extremities. Somehow I ended up at mile 5 and people started cheering again and that raised my spirits a little bit. I could hear the cheers from the finish line, and spectators kept saying "Almost there! Keep going!" "OKAY!" I replied, somewhat delerious... At mile 6 I was so relieved. I was 0.2 miles from being done with my first triathlon. Bittersweet, to be honest. It's been such a journey up to this point, and crossing the finish line meant it'd be over. Don't worry, I didn't hesitate, I may have even sped up a little. A whole swell of emotions came up in that last stretch and I won't ever forget it.Once across the finish line I was filled with relief. I could speak or even really walk straight. I aproached the Chip Clippers (volunteers who take on the sweaty task of clipping off the timing chips we strapped to our ankles) and had to convince my foot to go up on to the step. I sauntered forward rather aimlessly. My head was super foggy and I wanted to be more alert than I was but I needed some glucose in order to get there. Fortunately, I approached a Gatorade table and with a couple of swallows I started to come back. I then came up to the bagel and banana table and enthusiastically partook. At the end of the finish-line area I saw a man sprawled out on the ground, face up with his arms extended and eyes closed. Oh, Lord, I'm going to have to do CPR. "Sir, are you okay?" I asked. No response. Dangit. I nudged his toe with mine and he opened one eye looked me like I was the devil himself. "Are you okay, Sir???" I asked again. He nodded and so I accepted that, begging for any reason to avoid mouth to mouth, I'd left my face mask at home. I exited transition and continued to follow the masses. Eventually I decided I should have a destination. I decided to make my way back to the swim start so I could get the gear that I'd checked there-- including my phone, camera, and wallet... silly things like that. The bags were lined up along the lake in number order, but there was a two foot step down to get to them. I looked at the step and chuckeld. I was barely able to walk, much less make that jump. Fortunately, there was a nice young man that was there to help sad souls like me. I accepted his strong arm and proceeded to get my belongings, then accepted his strong arm again to get me back up. Small perks of being a triathlete, I guess. =) At transition, I found two of my good friends who had come to watch the festivities! It was SO GREAT to see familiar faces. Yea, I'd had the TNT family there supporting me along the way, but it was extra great to see people outside of the triathlon world there to say 'Congratuatlions.' We all walked to the El where I somehow found the strength to hoist Iron Horse up the 8,000 stairs and into the platform, then on to the El, then back downthe platform once at my stop. I slowly biked home, receiving odd stares along the way. I looked pretty rough at this point, no doubt and wasn't moving all too quickly.
So that is most of the race. I will write more on what has happened since later. I give you much credit and congratulations if you have made it this far.
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