Courtney Goes for a Run

There is nothing like the thrill of finishing your first road race.  I remember almost exactly a year and a half ago I finished my first 5K.  I had been training for 9 weeks and participated in a tiny little race somewhere out in Virginia.  I thought I was going to pass out the entire time.  It pretty much sucked.  But I did it!  And after that I knew I was going to keep this up for along time to come.  I love crossing the line to the cheering of crowds both small and large, grabbing a water bottle and feeling the relief in my legs as I slow to a jog and then a walk after the sprint to the finish.  Over Thanksgiving I participated in my first 5K race since then, and I finished seven minutes faster!  And even though I have run 10Ks and a 1/2 marathon and a triathlon, I still felt so satisfied for running hard those 3.1 miles and finishing in the middle of the pack.

Today I was so excited because I got to share that experience with Courtney.  This morning Courtney ran her first 5K ever.  She beat my first time without training at all, and pretty much kicked ass all the way through, despite the number of short but super steep hills on the course.

So why this sudden surge in running for my girl?  This season, Courtney will be participating with me in Team in Training. She'll be completing her first half marathon and raising funds.  I'm so excited to go through all the milestones of becoming a runner with her (the pain and fear of the first training run, the first 5-miler, the first 10-miler, the first ice bath...) as I train for my own first marathon.  Yay for goals!

Mission Accomplished

Swim: 0.93 miles, 56:26 (I blame the ocean for adding 15 minutes...), Bike: 25.5 miles, 1:46:49, Run: 6.2 miles, 1:17:28.

Total: 32.63 miles, 4:09:47

Wow.  What an adventure.  Yesterday I completed my first Olympic distance triathlon, two weeks later than planned, 129 miles away from home.  The training season was filled with adrenaline induced highs and terribly unexpected lows.  As a closeout to this training log, I'll share some of them below.

Low: The Great Butt Injury of 2011

You read about it before, so I won't rehash.  After riding off the slide and landing, ass-first, on a slab of concrete, my training took a major dip.  I took a week off and never really got back on the program.  Losing steam so quickly did a number not only on my race preparation, but on my mood as well.  I've struggled with depression for quite a while, and this triggered a decrease in my mood that I wasn't expecting.  To go from working out 9 times a week to 0 that quickly is not a good plan, I discovered.  I eventually recovered (I still have a little pain), but no more slides for me.

High: Open Water Swim Practice

Testing out the wet suits with my training buddies, as well as swimming in a crystal clear rock quarry in rural Virginia made for a beautiful Sunday in August. 

Low: The ACTUAL Open Water Swim

When the Nation's swim was cancelled, I immediately looked for a make-up race.  I found one that coincided with our bye-weekend from rugby, and signed up immediately.  I came home and told my girlfriend Courtney that I would be racing in Delaware.  The conversation went something like this:

Courtney: In the OCEAN?
Kate: Yeah.
Courtney: So...when are we going to go and get you some practice swimming in the ocean?
Kate: Huh?  It's in two weeks!  We don't have time to practice.
Courtney: You remember last weekend, right?

You see, over Labor Day Weekend, Courtney, bike tutor Megan, and I went to the very same Delaware coast off which I'd be swimming.  And I couldn't get in the water.  The waves were terrifying.  I don't know where this sudden phobia of the surf came from, but as I was trying to overcome it, I stood knee deep in the water, crying.  With enough coaching and encouragement, Courtney was able to teach me to go under the waves and time my swim just right.  But I held her hand the entire way.  Without thinking about it, I had signed up to do the same thing, hand-holding free.  Gulp.

Well, we didn't get a chance to practice, and yesterday morning I faced my fears head-on, with no one holding my hand.  And it sucked.  Badly.

There were seasoned triathletes shouting curse words at the breakers, and the race director welcomed us to the North Shore of Oahu.  Hilarious.  So I closed my eyes, pictured my lily pad waiting for me on the other side of the waves, and dove in.  Miraculously, I made it past the breakers unscathed.  The swimming part was worse than I imagined, with huge swells distorting my course and turning my smooth freestyle into a panicked breast stroke/dog paddle.  When I finally reached the last red buoy indicating the turn into shore, I knew I was home free.  I was so excited that I forgot it was just as hard to swim IN with waves as to wade OUT through waves and didn't time myself right.  I got smashed to the bottom twice, got sand in places we won't discuss, and emerged from the ocean shaken and shaking.  After the race, Courtney told me there were people who had to be fished out of the surf by the life guards, so by those accounts it could have been worse.  I guess it's all about perspective.

High: The Cheering Section

There is nothing quite like being cheered across a finish line.  My mom came to town for the Duathlon, and she, roommate Jake, and Courtney were there at the transition area every section of the race.  They cheered me off on my bike, high-fived me through the run, and screamed my name across the finish line.  Courtney then came all the way to Delaware with me and woke up at 6:30 on her one day a week to sleep in.  She helped me get organized, took embarrassing pictures of me getting into my wet suit, and vigilantly watched me come out of the ocean, ready to jump in there and save me herself if she needed to!  She then carried all my crap after the race, drove all the way home while I slept, and took me to a Melissa Ferrick concert at the end of the day.  What a girl!

Low: Losing Coach John

Without a doubt, losing Coach John during the Nation's TriDuathlon was the most difficult moment of the season.  John was my coach during the spring Team In Training season when I prepared for my first half marathon, and his support and guidance (and special hot drink) got me through a number of freezing cold, long, long runs.  He died of a heart attack while participating in the Nation's race.  He helped motivate so many Team In Training athletes to push themselves to new personal bests while raising funds for a mission in which he so deeply believed.  We'll miss him this spring, and every season after.

High: Racing in memory of John and Erica, and in honor of Toby

John's passing had a special impact on my race two weeks later.  I wore a ribbon (made by coach Kristin) to remember him as I was running.  At several points during the race, I looked up to the sky and talked out loud to John, thanking him for his support and asking him to get me through this one final race.  I pictured him up there, right next to Erica, cheering me to the finish line.  I was lucky to have John and Erica in my life while I did, and I am so blessed for the moments I have had and will have with Toby.  I will continue to push myself to meet new challenges in their names.

Tri Training Week 13: Go Team!

Weekly Mileage: 66.39 (11.6 Running, 1.56 Swimming, 51.85 Biking)


It's hard to express what Team in Training means to me.  This program is without a doubt the best way to train for an endurance event.  Sure, the fundraising is hard and I feel awkward about asking people for money, but the stories I hear from people about how TNT paid for medication or care during their battles with blood cancer makes it worth it. 


Just as important are the support and friendship that come along with the training.  Without my training buddy Dania, I'm not sure I'd be able to get up at 5:45 on Saturday mornings.  Without the friendly advice from the coaches and mentors, I don't know that I'd be able to complete the long swims, and the longer rides and runs. 


Today I was running on the national mall, and I was about half way through the 4-mile route and ready to give up.  I've been quite exhausted lately, and my running has taken the biggest hit.  As I paused at a red light in the shadow of the Washington Monument, I heard, "Go team!"  I turned around and there was a lady who had seen my TNT shirt and wanted to give me some encouragement.


"Did you do Team In Training?" I asked.
"Yeah, for six seasons.  Now I'm a coach.  What event are you training for?"
"The Nations Tri."
"I am so proud of you.  You're going to do a great job.  You're amazing.  Go team!"


This woman had no clue who I was, and I didn't know her either, but a simple look at the logo on my shirt let her know I was someone she was proud of.  That interaction, which took place before the red hand changed to a little walking man, got me through the rest of my run. 


That's what this organization means to me.  We're working so hard for something we can be proud of.  We're working to improve the lives of others, and we're improving our own lives as well.


Go team!



I also wanted to update you all on my training progress.  So far this triathlon season I have worked out 85 times, swam 19.89 miles, ran 110.6 miles, and biked a staggering 359.25 miles (more than the distance from my hometown Urbana, IL to Chicago and back)!  This has by far been the most challenging athletic accomplishment I have set out to complete, and it has been surprisingly even harder on my mental state.  This last month I have faced a number of angry little voices in the back of my head yelling, “GO BACK TO BED!” or “Quit now and you’ll feel better!”  Well I haven’t listened to them (for the most part), and I’m looking forward to completing The Nations Triathlon 4 weeks from today!  I know Erica and Toby will be with me every step of the way!
If you're still considering donating, time is running out!  I’m hoping you’ll be able to donate some time before August 27^th.  Just click on the link to the right and it will take you straight to my fundraising page.  Thanks so much for all your support!

Tri Training Weeks 11 and 12: Bust Your Ass

Bi-weekly mileage: 55.9 (44.3 Biking, 8.8 running, 2.8 swimming)

Training was going really well.  I had figured out how to work out on my vacations all summer long.  I had missed a few workouts here and there, but was really sticking to the schedule.  I felt my endurance increasing, and could tell I was getting stronger.  I got compliments on my leg muscles.  And then...

 It's all fun and games until someone flies down a concrete slide at top speed (having significant mass affected by the pull of gravity) and lands, ass first, on a concrete slab.  Don't let that sand fool out...it's just a light dusting at the bottom of the slide.  There's video of the event, but I'll spare you.  Anyway, a hike through Golden Gate Park, and a 6-hour flight did not make the situation any better, and I went to the doctor the next day to find out that it was not broken, and that it would still be painful for a month.  F.

So.  I took five days off of training.  Monday I laid in bed with ice on my butt taking massive amounts of ibuprofen and worrying about a stomach ulcer.  Tuesday was much of the same, with a half a day of work thrown in.  Wednesday I was able to put in a full day of work sitting on the donut pillow, with frequent breaks to waddle around the office like a pregnant senior citizen (paradox!).

Finally on Thursday I was able to make it into the pool thanks to the encouragement of my big sister, and Saturday I hit the bike.  Oh man that hurt.  I only made it 60 of the 100-minute workout before I wussed out and laid in the grass in the fetal position while waiting for my carpool buddy to finish.  I still haven't tried running since the incident, but I've got no choice but to buck up and give it a shot tomorrow.

But today was the highlight of the training so far.  I squeezed into my wetsuit and completed my first open water swim!  This was the first time I have worn a wetsuit since the glory days of SCUBA diving in college, and it was not a pretty sight.  But once I got into the water, it was beautiful!  The buoyancy of the wetsuit made the swim quite easy, and the clarity of the water coupled with the total flat calm made for a perfect workout.  We swam a mile in 40 minutes, and practiced staying in a straight line with no black line at the bottom of the pool to follow!

Though conditions in the Potomac will be extra disgusting, especially when compared with today's location, I feel more confident that I will be able to finish the swim and hop on my bike with energy to spare.  I guess it's time to get back to running...

Tri Training Week 10: The Heat Is On

Weekly Mileage: 61.34 (8.24 Running, 2.6 Swimming, 49.5 Biking)

I have a confession to make.  I HATE not being in charge.  I really like deciding things on my own terms.  I WILL teach this lesson on DNA today.  I WILL run 6 miles.  I WILL watch an entire season of 30 Rock on netflix streaming.  Because I can do what I want.

Well, it became painfully clear this week that I am not in charge of anything that really matters, at least as far as training is concerned.  Because I am not in charge of the weather, and the weather screwed me over.  Big time.

This week the entire country was in the grip of an insane heat wave, and I was lucky enough to spend most of the it in Indianapolis!  Heat wave central, let me tell you.  I "ran" five miles in 110 heat index weather.  I use the word run loosely.  After 40 minutes my body shut down, I was out of water, and my internal systems were staging a revolt.  After a brief stop at a bait shop (no joke, the only place on the trail with bathrooms), I finished the "run" by "walking."

It only got worse when I came back to DC.  Code red air quality warnings.  Not orange.  Red.  Normally they just warn old people and babies to stay inside, but not this week.  This week they told us ALL to stay in air conditioning and avoid vigorous exercise.

So I TRIED to go work out at the gym.  But I hate working out at the gym.  Ten minutes on the treadmill and I was bored out of my mind.  Because I'm not the boss of the treadmill either.

This morning, though, I went on a 27.5 mile ride outside early enough that the heat wasn't a problem.  It was a gorgeous ride through the shade of Rock Creek Park, and it helped me get back into the swing of things.  Thankfully the weather is breaking, and tomorrow highs are only in the upper 80's.  I can't wait to get back on the road!

Tri Training Week 9: Herd of Turtles

Weekly Mileage: 50.9 (9 Running, 2 swimming, 39.9 Biking)

Whenever we took family road trips when I was little, my mom would wait until we were all buckled in, back slowly out of the driveway and say, "Aaaaand we're off, like a herd of turtles!"  Well, let me tell you, driving a car (even a woodchuck mini van full of kids) is NOT like a herd of turtles.  Going for a run after you've ridden a bike almost 25 miles, THAT is like a herd of turtles.  But I did it.  I survived my first brick workout.  But not without a struggle.

Let me back up.  Most of working out is a mind game.  I play tricks on myself to make the workouts seem shorter. 

- I have three turns before I'm done running.  (Who cares that between each turn is a mile?)
- As soon as I finish this 400m swim, I'm almost done. (Who cares that I still have to swim a 300, a 200, and a 100?)
- I'm halfway done with half my time, which basically means I'm almost done. (Who cares that I've still got an hour left to ride?)

It's all in my head, and I've gotten really good at getting myself through long bike rides, and long swims, and long, hot, awful runs.  My token sayings still work well.  My routes are familiar, and I know what I need to do to get the job done.

That all changed on Saturday when I did my first brick workout (one sport followed directly with no rest by another) back home in Illinois.  It was to be my longest bike ride ever (90 minutes), followed by a brief 10-minute run.  Before the ride I pumped myself up.  I put a Gatorade in the water cage, strapped on my mom's Camel Back (what?!?!?  I'm thirsty!), borrowed her husband's bike and shoes, and went on my way.  It was wonderful to be on the country roads with no cars and corn high above my head.  As the first five miles flew by, I was feeling great.  But it WAS 95 degrees out.  And I WAS riding a bike that was a bit too big for me.  The discomfort started to take a toll.

"Self," I said, "You're over half way to half way there."

And, for the first time ever, I replied.  And I was kind of a bitch.

"Yeah.  Uh huh.  And then you have to GO FOR A RUN WHEN YOU'RE DONE!"

My mind knew what was coming, and it wasn't going to fall for any of my cheap tricks.  I knew this was going to be the hardest workout I'd probably ever done (well, except for that whole half marathon thing...), and my brain was going to make sure that it savored every painful moment of it.

Eventually I did finish the bike, enjoying the hot breeze and making it 24.5 miles in 94 minutes.  And then I "ran."

I got off the bike, took a quick bathroom break, put on my running shoes, and took off.

Oh.  My.  God.

 I felt like I was running through wet concrete.  And that concrete seemed to by drying up pretty quickly.  Yet I kept going.  For a whole ten minutes.  And I tell you what, I was the last damn turtle in that herd for every second of that run.  But I finished.  Now what the hell am I going to tell my brain next weekend when I try this nonsense again?

Tri Training Week 8: Over It

Weekly Mileage: 40.95 (12.65 Running, .9 Swimming, 31.4 Biking)

The honeymoon is SOOOO over.  Here is a list of things I'd rather be doing than an hour or two of exercise each day:

- Sleeping
- Spending time with my girlfriend
- Having dinner parties
- Cleaning my bathroom (for real)
- Playing with my cat
- Reading Bossypants
- Eating
- Buying new workout clothes

After my 60-minute 100 degree ride this evening, I was thinking in the shower (a very productive place to think) about whether or not I'm still enjoying this process.  The bottom line is, of course.  I love that I've set a goal and I'm trying to reach it.  I love that I'm getting exercise, feeling tough, and raising money in honor of two really incredible people.  But I'm exhausted!  I feel like the minute I'm done working out, all I have time to do is eat, pack my bag for the next day, and go to sleep.  And this was a rest and recovery week!

It's time for me to refocus on the lily pads.  I'm not ready for this triathlon right now.  I've got two months of preparation left for a reason.  I need to remember that I can meet this goal by taking it one workout at a time.  That's all.  It just kind of sucks that I've got TWO lily pads tomorrow...

As for the fundraising, I made $150 at my bake sale on Saturday (tough crowd wouldn't buy my damn cupcakes), and $60 at a happy hour hosted by Team In Training.  Coupled with a check I'll put in the mail tomorrow, I'm nearly half way to my goal!  But seriously...what was wrong with my cupcakes?

Tri Training Week 7: Happy Accidents

Weekly Mileage: 42.57 (11.05 Running, 1.92 Swimming, 28.5 Biking)

No, no, no, not THAT kind of accident.  I discovered that I DO like biking, as long as I do it with a friend, or on a really nice trail!

Monday I biked with Megan, my bike tutor.  We did laps at Hains Point down by the Potomac and the monuments.  She's quite the little triathlete, so I pushed myself to keep up with her and was able to bike at a stead 16-17 miles per hour for over an hour!  We did 19.5 miles on a Monday night!  Quite proud of myself, and I had a friend to chit chat with the whole way.

Wednesday I went back to Hains Point on my own, only to find out that it was closed!  I was so psyched to get a ride in at my new favorite place, and I was incredibly disappointed.  Luckily for me, I decided to ride on the roads that WERE open, and I saw a bunch of bikers taking this hidden sidewalk.  What could this be??? I thought to myself.  Where are these people headed?!?!?!  Much to my surprise and enjoyment, I discovered a top secret bike trail known as the Mount Vernon trail.  Now, I know you're laughing because the Mount Vernon trail is probably the LEAST secret bike trail around, and mostly the tourists take it.  ANYWAY.  It was beautiful, and I think I will get on it as much as I can from now on.

As for the running and swimming, things did not go as well this week.  I found myself completely exhausted which, when coupled with the heat and humidity, left me frustrated on the runs.  I only swam once, which I guess means I took my rest and recovery week a little early...

I think I remember being exhausted and in pain about two months into the half marathon training.  Perhaps this is when the magic wears off and you realize the complete insanity of what you're trying to accomplish.

Tri Training Week 6: Sportscation

Weekly Mileage: 43.62 (8.85 Running, 3.77 Swimming, 31 Biking)

Well, what an improvement a week makes!  It helped that this week I was training in Portland and Bar Harbor, Maine.  It's hard not to want to go outside and play when you're in Maine with great weather! 

Oh, did I say something about great weather?  I forgot that on my first vacation day I was minding my business, enjoying a 40-minute run around Back Cove in Portland when I heard the slightest rumbling of thunder.  I turned from the blue skies to glance across the cove, and there stood a giant gray thunderhead, coming straight at me.

Now those of you who know me (I bet you know me if you're reading this...) know that I'm a pokey little puppy.  Always close to the end of the finisher pool in any "race," my goal is just to finish a little faster than the time before.  Let's just say I hope there's a giant thunderhead 40 minutes out from the end of this triathlon, because I frigging booked it!  I almost beat the storm around the lake, but with about a quarter mile left, it let loose and I was soaked.  Best friend (and donor!) Amanda picked me up a few minutes later, and she found me drenched and shivering beneath a big tree.  I had completed 3.6 miles, and finished a 5K in 35 minutes for the first time ever!

The weather the rest of the week was far better, with sunny skies, friendly old ladies at the local YMCAs, and beautiful scenery to keep me motivated.

Once we arrived in Bar Harbor, I convinced my girlfriend that we should rent bikes and she should come with me on my training ride.  The first half was glorious.  We coasted down a hill to find a beautiful lake, surrounded by trees and rocks and sky.  The sun was shining, kids were playing in the water, and all was right with the world.  Because we had biked quickly and up a few hills, we were plenty hot and sweaty and jumped right in the chilly lake.  We were only pretty sure we saw a sea monster once.  Which was weird.  Because it was a lake.

ANYWAY.  After a long swim, we hopped back on our bikes and set out for the carriage roads.  We accidentally ended up on the Park Loop Road, which is incredibly hilly, quite busy, and seemingly without a speed limit.  Courtney now refers to it as "The Death Trap," and we were quite thrilled we made it safely back to the bike shop.

The rest of the trip included hikes (totally counted as running workouts), a few more swims (both at the Y and in the lake), and a LOT of ice cream (lest you think this exercise nonsense is making me waste away...).   Our final adventure ended on top of a mountain(ish), where we watched the fog roll in from above the clouds.  A perfect end to a perfect week of relaxation and training.  I think we'd all get a lot more exercise if we were permanently on vacation...

Tri Training Week 5:

Weekly Mileage: 17.57 (4 biking, 11.62 run, 1.95 swim)

You'll notice that my mileage was really low during week five.  I only biked half my first workout, and then missed my second bike workout on Thursday.  I am having trouble navigating the training schedule, trying to fit in 8 workouts per week.  I've got a job, I just moved into a new house, I'm in a new relationship, and it's really hard to go biking for an hour or more with all of that going on. 

It's interesting because I never miss a swim or a run, which probably highlights my secret fear of the biking section of this race.  But perhaps it also highlights my not-so-secret fear of the bike trails in DC.  I'm not saying high school kids taser and rob people on the trails ALL the time...I'm just saying maybe it happened once or twice. 

The bottom line is, I need to figure out a way to ensure that I'm not slacking off, or unintentionally sabotaging the bike leg of my triathlon by missing tons of bike workouts.  I'm actually writing this from Maine, and I'll have missed another bike workout by week's end.  I must focus on the bike once I return home from vacation, which will be supported by the Team In Training group rides that kick off next week.

The best part of this week was my long run on Monday on that National Mall.  The temperature was in the 70s for the first time in weeks, the sun was shining, and the sporty citizens of DC were out in force.  I ran 4.9 miles at an 11:37 pace, which for me is phenomenal.  It felt good to feel success on that part of training, considering how hard it had been to run in the heat the previous week.

Also, my fundraising is going ok so far.  It's more challenging this time, but I'm looking forward to throwing a bake sale and a happy hour and seeing what I can't accomplish that way.

I owe it to the people who inspire me to run (my honored teammates Toby and Erica) and to everyone who has donated so far.  It's surprising just how much this affects me and keeps me going.

Tri Training Week Four: Rest and Recovery

Total Mileage: 24.78 (9.2 running, 1.58 swimming, 14 biking)

Got my new bike, moved across the town, found a new bike trail (upon which folks get tasered by high school kids who have now been caught), about to go for a run on the national mall, heat finally broke.

Claim to fame: 13 miles of total activity in 100.4 degree weather.  I'm badass.

Tri Training Week Three: Ugh

Total Mileage: I don't want to talk about it

Sick, overtrained, no rest day for too long, slacked off.

I Feel Very Happy of Myself

Tri Training Week Two: Sweaty in Seattle

Weekly Mileage: 29.3 (9.2 Running, 1.5 Swimming, 18.6 biking)

Wow.  I just checked my sweet google doc training tracker (sounds more impressive than it really is at a whopping 4 columns in excel) and I have trained 10 days in a row.  In those 10 days I have worked out 12 times!  But here's the really cool part: the last 4 workouts were while I was ON VACATION.  Yep, I'm that person.  I work out every day of my vacation.  And until yesterday I really didn't even resent it.  In fact, I looked forward to it.

This positive attitude was probably the result of location and company.  From what I could tell over the weekend, there are few places more beautiful and conducive to outdoor exercise than Seattle.  Upon landing I went for a run around Greenlake with Non-red Kate, a former rugby teammate.  The air was crisp, the sky was sunny and blue (I’m beginning to think they lie about Seattle weather just to keep us away), and the three mile loop around the little lake was a perfect welcome to Seattle.

Another thing about summer in Seattle is the sheer amount of daylight.   The sun came up at six and didn’t really set until around 9:30 or 10:00.  As a result, I got in a full day of fun and adventure (sleeping in, shopping with my high school history teacher Henry, pedicures and dinner with my Mississippi roommate Gwyn) and still was able to squeeze my run in at 8:30pm!  It was after a delicate rain shower, and newly wet pavement is one of my favorite smells.  Heaven.

Saturday morning I borrowed Henry's wife Catherine’s pimped out Specialized road bike and took it for a spin along the Burke Gilman trail.  I rode through the University of Washington, along a canal, and through the Fremont neighborhood.  I finished back at the Kamerlings atop a massive hill.  When I got into the house, their six-year-old daughter said, “You’re sweaty.”  Yep.  Sure was.

The final workout of the vacation was a quick run to the beach at Golden Gardens, the site of the wedding that brought me to Seattle in the first place.  The run to and from the beach was  no big deal: 3.5 miles of gentle ups and downs, with a view of the mountains in the distance on the way there.  However, as I approached the park, I reached a set of stairs heading down.  I skipped down the steps knowing that beautiful views awaited me upon my arrival.  But about half way down I realized I’d have to go back up.  The final count was 253 stairs, plus a few straightaways in the middle.  Having just run almost two miles, I was none too pleased to be climbing.  Upon reaching the bottom of the final set of stairs with just 25 more to climb, an 80-year-old man looked at me, smiled and said, “You’re movin’ awfully slow.”  Yep.  Sure was.

So maybe I'm sweaty.  And maybe I'm slow.  But the bottom line is, I'm having fun training for this triathlon!

Tri Training Week One: Firsts

Weekly Mileage: 24.8 (8.2 running, 1.3 swimming, 15.3 biking)

I came to work on Tuesday after my first morning swim and would tell anyone who would listen, "I did three sports in three days!  I did three sports in three days!" I never thought I would exercise six days of the week, even on the weekends.  I never thought I'd do more than one sport per season.  And I never thought I'd work out more than once per day.  Welcome to the week of firsts!

This week I took my first steps to truly becoming a triathlete.  I worked out 7 times in six days.  One day I even did two sports!  And I found out this is going to be harder than I thought.

Swimming:
Yeah.  So I hate morning.  You can ask anyone I've ever woken up with (from sleepover buddies to camping friends to my own mother), I hate waking up.  It is, without a doubt, my least favorite sport.  But something about swimming makes me think I have to do it before work.  And when you're spending three hours a night hunting for (and losing out on) apartments, you DO have to do it before work.  So on Tuesday I woke up at 5:00 am to go swimming.  And I actually enjoyed myself.  Our swim workouts this week were only 30 minutes long, so though I was having flashbacks to the Crystal Lake Nadiators, the practice was not nearly as hard as those.  I learned a lot about pool etiquette (when there are only two simmers, you split the lane rather than swimming in a circle), damn near crashed into a dude with a Lance Armstrong bracelet on (before I learned about pool etiquette),  and realized that swimming is a really good workout.  Halfway through the swim I noticed my arms were getting really tired and sore.  "Gosh" I thought.  "I am really out of swimming shape."  Then I remembered that you can kick while you're swimming.  When I stopped dragging my limp lower body through the pool with only my arms, things got a lot more pleasant.  And my second swim of the week happened in the evening, so all was well.

Running:
I had three really nice, quick runs this week, with excellent weather, excellent company.  Monday Jake and I took a house hunting break to run through the new neighborhood and check it out.  Wednesday was a running club day and because it was only a 30-minute run, we got to skip the hills!  Matt of course kept running because he likes pain.  Saturday was our first official Team In Training workout of the season.  Though I am going to switch teams since I'm moving into the city, it was wonderful to meet half of the people I'll be running the race with, and to get some triathlon basics from our expert coaches.  This is going to be such a different experience from the winter season, with a larger group and a diverse set of activities.  But I am so excited.  We ended the morning's triathlon clinic with a quick 25 minute run through Fairfax, VA.  I'm right in the middle of the pack for speed and endurance, which is a nice place to be.

Biking:
It is abundantly clear that this will be the hard part of this program for me.  Bikes are scary.  Riding in a city is scary.  Biking up hills is hard.  But I finished my biking on Friday faster and farther than Sunday, and tackled a pretty horrible hill in the process.  I'm still getting used to the weirdness of my triathlon bike, having to move handles to shift or break, unclipping from the pedals to stop, and leaning down while riding.  But it makes me feel super badass, so we'll go with it.

Next week I'm nervous that I'll be in Seattle for a wedding (yay Seattle!) so I'm trying to plan out my workouts and see if I can't get most or all of them in.  Megan the bike tutor (who is also a triathlon tutor) says "when in doubt, go for a run."  So if you see me running up and down the hilly streets of Seattle, invite me over to your pool!  Because I don't like running THAT much!

Uphill Battle

Weekly mileage: 9.8 (3 running, 6.8 cycling)

On your mark.  Get set.  Go!  Kick-off for Team In Training's summer season was yesterday, and what an event it was.  I continue to be impressed and inspired by the organization.  Not only are we working together on an important mission (raising money to fight blood cancers), but the organization is incredibly well run, encouraging, and exciting to be a part of!

I ran into several friends from last season's half marathon training who greeted me with big hugs and a bit of terror in their eyes.  Afterall, we had signed up to do an Olympic distance triathlon!  We met our mentors, received our training schedules, and heard from coaches and cancer survivors, all attesting to the challenges and victories we will encounter on this four month journey.

There are three triathlon training schedules, depending on your level of fitness.  Well.  I am incredibly proud to say that because of the half marathon and running club, I am going to start out at the highest level and see if I can stay there for the duration of training!

My first workout of the season was today: a 40-minute bike ride. Because my bike tutor is out of town, this was my first unsupervised ride.  I had a lot of nerves going into it.  I packed my under-seat bike pouch with my phone, license, debit card, and health insurance card.  You know, just in case.  I filled up my REI water bottle and stuck it in my REI water cages (I'm keeping those people in business!), clicked on my cycling shoes, and headed out the door.  I had to walk through the lobby of my building in spandex and what amount to really overpriced tap dancing shoes, and I made plenty of noise and drew much attention.  But then I was off! 

The first bit of the ride was no big deal, my biggest concern being getting my feet out of the cleats in time to stop at the stoplights.  Let me tell you...I'm a pro!  I only almost fell down once!  But then, because I'm not familiar with my neighborhood beyond my grocery store, I found out it's dirty little secret.  HILLS.

My first workout was a hill workout.  Totally by accident.  After the one thing they told us yesterday was to start slowly.  Oops.  By the time I got halfway up the fifth hill my legs were shaking, sweat was pouring down my face...well...it was pouring down my everything, and I wanted to stop.  But I kept pedaling, standing up as I made it the last few yards up that hill.  I was really proud of myself!  Then I remembered, there were three more to go before home.  So I took a rest, hydrated (that's what it's called...drinking water is for sissies!), and went on my way.  All in all I did 6.8 miles in 40 minutes, or about 10 miles per hour.  I have no idea if this is fast or slow for me, but it gives me a good baseline from which to measure and grow. 

I'm so excited for this adventure, but I can tell already it's going to be the most physically challenging thing I've ever done.  And what did I learn so far?  Biking up hills makes the hiking up hills we did last seem like a walk in the woods.  Oh.  Wait...

From the Sidelines

Ruggerfest 2011 was the most painful rugby has ever been.  As I've said many times before (because it makes me strangely proud of myself), at my last tournament in college I broke my ankle and had to have it repaired with steel screws and plates.  Then there was the broken nose this season in Virginia Beach.  I've sustained a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and more bruises and knocks to the skull than I can remember (not that the two are related).  So what could possibly have happened during Ruggerfest to make things so unimaginably painful?

I had to watch.

Watching games as a bench warmer is one thing.  You know that barring an incredibly close game, you'll get at least a little bit of playing time when the coach is confident the game is either won or lost.  There are the butterflies bouncing in your stomach as you stare longingly at the coach as she looks up and down the bench as she decides who she'll play next.  There is the excitement that at any moment Lis may suffer a catastrophic injury and though you've been the last to go in all season long, Merf might finally realize the star that you are and put you in as the sixth man.  Oh wait.  This was supposed to be hypothetical.  ANYWAY.

This last weekend was so much different, and so much harder than I imagined it would be.  I got a sense of this at practice the week before, which I attended to participate in the non-contact drills and learn from watching my teammates and their mad skillz.  Two other players were sidelined at the Virginia Beach tournament (see picture) and we all were frustrated at our lack of participation in the fun (read: tacking and scrumming) part of rugby.

After practice I thought I was emotionally prepared for the weekend.  But then we started winning.  Our first game we was the closest, and then we proceeded to school the other teams, three in one day.  I was suddenly a rugby girlfriend instead of a rugby player (yeah, I'm dating someone on my team...what are you going to do about it?!?!), and I didn't know what to do with myself.  So, I started being helpful.  I ran to get ice, I carried tape and extra jerseys, and brought water onto the field, I cracked jokes on the sidelines.  It passed the time, but I was sad. 

But I guess that's what it means to really be part of a team.  Even when you can't play, you go to cheer them on.  Even when you're not a part of the action, you do everything you can to support those who are.  So though I wasn't emotionally prepared for an early end to the season, I am proud of my teammates for going out with a bang.  And I kind of like being a rugby girlfriend too.  Now time to start training for the triathlon!

Springtime Ride

Spring is here in full effect!  It is azalea and dogwood season, and DC couldn't be prettier.  After the forecast for the apocalypse proved to bring nothing more than a drizzle (sorry, St. Louis), we had two gorgeous days for outdoor activities this weekend.  Turns out you can still get plenty of exercise with a broken nose, just not of the rugby variety.

Yesterday's run was a last-minute decision, since I was waiting all day for the thunderstorms that never came.  Late in the afternoon, I decided that the bright blue sky and golden sun was a signal that there would not be tornadoes, and it was probably safe to venture outside.  You must understand, however, that I did not eat like I was going for a run yesterday.  I ate like I was going to spend the rest of the day inside comfortably digesting while reading a book.  Needless to say, the run was not super fast or super long, it was just super obvious that I had a burrito baby the whole time.

Anyway, today's long awaited first bike ride (outside the parking lot) couldn't have gone better.  After a flurry of rescheduling, Megan the bike tutor (not to be confused with EMT Megan or Hooker Megan...) met me at the corner of East-West Highway (no joke...it runs east and west) and Beach Drive, a gorgeous road that is closed to cars on the weekends and reserved for outdoor activities.  We rode for about an hour and 20 minutes, did about 17 miles (estimate), I didn't fall off, we conquered some hills, and enjoyed the lovely weather. 

And what did I learn?  Well...

1. Though it feels like you're wearing a diaper in the store, and in the elevator, and in front of everyone, you are SO GLAD you bought those shorts with padding in the butt.

2. The guy at REI who tried to scare you about your fancy bike was just jealous.  It's not hard to ride, in fact it's quite fun with its "Barca Lounger handlebars (Barinholtz, 2011)."

3. Bike riding uses different muscles from running, though your awesome calves that you developed running still look awesome when you're riding your bike.  In fact, "The only reason I do any of this is to have awesome calves (O'Rourke, 2011)."

4. You should REALLY make sure you have water-bottle cages BEFORE your first bike ride with your crazy bike-riding friend.  Because you will be thirsty.

5. Even though you used to make fun of shirts with pockets in the back (I mean seriously...POCKETS??? In the back???  Of a SHIRT???), you will probably go out this afternoon and buy a shirt with pockets in the back.  Because where else are you supposed to put all the crap?  Answer: Megan's shirt with pockets in the back.

So now I've conquered two of the three sports in my triathlon.  Up next: Bathing suit shopping.  I think I'll go this one alone...

Season. Over.

I had grand hopes for the weekend.  It was my first rugby tournament in nearly 10 years.  At the 2001 Scrum by the Sea tournament in San Diego, I finally realized that if you don't stop running when someone tries to tackle you, you can sometimes keep going!  This is what I was trying to do when my cleat got stuck in the mud and my ankle kept moving, resulting in a dislocation.  The aforementioned tacklers then fell on the leg, fracturing my fibula in the process. 

All through warm-ups at the Virginia Beach tournament this weekend I kept thinking, "I'm back!  I'm in great shape!  I've been playing so well lately!  This is going to be an awesome welcome back to the land of rugby tournaments after a 10-year hiatus.  Don't F this up!"  And for a while, it seemed I would be successful.

Our first match of the day left much to be desired.  Our scrums were inexplicably crap, after our first try we went scoreless, and the opposing team's fly half walked all over us.  I had my favorite run of the season, in which I bowled over one girl and kept running (flashbacks to SD!!!), but to no avail.  We still left with a loss.

The second match was against Norfolk, a Mid Atlantic RFU powerhouse.  Their scrum was supposed to be beastly, and their backs fast and strong.  Somehow we fixed the challenges from the first match and bowled them over in nearly every scrum.  We played a much better game, but still lost.  They had a psychotic lock who took a swing at our kindest, most dignified player who, quite literally, turned the other cheek.  Did the girl get ejected?  No.  She didn't even get a red card.  Perhaps home cooking on the part of the ref lost us the match.  But you didn't hear that from me.

My tackles that game were beastly, and I took real pleasure in chucking girls to the ground.  I was incredibly pumped for the final match of the tournament against Chesapeake, a team we had beaten just a week before.  I was focused on my goal for the tournament: to tackle like Nicole, our 90-pound wing who thinks she's 300 pounds.  The girl is fearless, and I figured if her tiny ass could hit the big girls, then I could too.

About five minutes into the first half, I was focusing on sprinting off the line the moment the scrumhalf took the ball from the ruck.  I had visions of leveling their flyhalf with a textbook tackle.  Unfortunately, my teammate Q (who has hit me hard a number of times in practice and left me with ringing in my ears) had the same vision.  At the same time.  For the same girl.  In to the tackle we both went.  Let's just say the girl from Chesapeake was the only one who left the exchange unscathed. 

I heard a deafening crunch/pop/knock as Q's forehead (a hard one at that) went straight into the bridge of my nose.  Down I went.  My thoughts, in the following order:

1. Get up.  You always come out for lame ass reasons.  Get up.
2. Ow.
3. Shit.  I think it's broken.  Get ready for the blood.
4. Get up, there's no blood.

So I stood up.  Well, I got to my knees, got one foot up, and collapsed back into the fetal position.

5.  Shit.  I think it's broken.

Megan and Megan, our hooker, and a trained EMT/rugby girlfriend came rushing out on the field once play had stopped, helped me up off the ground, and walked me to the sidelines.  On the way, EMT Megan said "It's br..."  Apparently at his point I smacked her repeatedly and said "Stop talking!  Just stop talking."  Though I knew she was right, I didn't want to hear it.  Luckily, the tournament medic was out of arms reach since his first words were "Well, it's sure broke and bruisin' up real nice!"  Jerk.

Three x-rays later, their suspicions were confirmed, and I was left with an ice pack, a prescription for percocet, and the knowledge that not only was my season likely over, but I would not be participating in the post-tourney debauchery for which rugby players are known.  But, at least they won the game after I left.

Am I disappointed in the way the season ended?  Yes.  But I'm pleased with the rest of the tournament, I had an incredibly fun weekend, percocet apparently leads to plenty of debauchery, and the black eyes totally got me street cred at my detention center job.  All in all, I'd say it was a good weekend.  And based on my track record, it's probably a good thing I can't go to another tournament next weekend...

Just Like Riding a Bike

After three weeks of waiting patiently, I finally got on my new bike!  The long road to the joy of a triathlon bike began when my old high school basketball coach sent an e-mail asking me if I'd like to buy her bike, as she was upgrading to a super sweet carbon fiber model.  Knowing nothing about bikes except that I needed one for the triathlon, and that we are about the same height, I went for it.

Mom picked the bike up from Courtney and drove it out here like the fabulous drop everything and do favors for her kids woman she is.  In an effort to prevent the evil suburban Pennsylvania thieves from stealing it from the hotel, however, she took it out of the car and lost a piece.  Hence the bike spent a week at REI waiting for a new bearing and getting a nice tune-up.

When we dropped it off at the store, it became abundantly clear that this was going to be a bit too much bike for me.  The sweet old man at the bike shop looked me up and down and asked "Have you ever ridden a bike like THAT?" 

Shit.

Luckily my bike tutor/friend Megan was returning from a trip to Africa the next weekend and promised to take me accessory shopping and give me a bike lesson.  When she saw that bike she said "Wow.  Ok.  We'll make this work.  Those are the hard pedals."

Shit.

But we bought shoes, attached the cleats, got a helmet, and made a date for bike lesson number one.  She joined me in the parking lot this afternoon, and step by step taught me how to put on my shoes.  I'm not joking.  There's steps to putting ON the shoes.  But because she's such a good teacher, I was able to clip into the pedals and ride without falling down!  I rode around the whole apartment complex (comparable to a city block or two), and even leaned down onto the fancy "areo-bars" and went SUPOR fast (for me) until I got scared and pumped the breaks.

Then I decided it was time to take pictures.  Guess what.  I fell down.

Well, at least I got that out of the way.  And I landed on my rugby bruise, so no harm done.  Next week we leave the parking lot!

Dedication

Two-thirds of the way through last night's rugby practice, I realized I was freezing and that it had begun to rain.  I have no idea how long it had been raining, or how cold it really was.  We were standing in a circle, coach Pam's head surrounded by a halo of Thursday night lights perfectly highlighting each individual raindrop, steam rising off our heads and bodies.  And it occurred to me.  This was ridiculous.  There I was with a group of about 20 women, most of whom are flirting with middle age.  We were throwing each other into the mud and tearing up the field at 9:00 on a frigid Thursday night.  We all had to go to work the next day and pretend like our muscles weren't aching, our joints weren't creaking, and our eyelids weren't drooping with exhaustion.  (This doesn't even take into account the "Maryland Fun Club" some folks attended following practice.)  I was struck by the absurdity of our audacity to play this most violent of sports, but I was also moved by the dedication each of us have to our team.

This highlights a lesson I learned this week.  I was also shocked to realize the depth of the importance I place on improving my mental and physical state through exercise and being a part of a team.

During last weekend's match I tweaked my back and the pain had been getting steadily worse throughout the week.  I was terrified because the pain was similar to the summer of 2009 in which I was diagnosed with a bulging disk and told by a super-comforting doctor that I would probably always be in pain.  He was wrong -- the pain dissipated as I lost weight.  Yet here, at my life's fittest, it came rushing back.  During running club on Monday I made it 3/4 of a mile before I walked.  I was trying to "listen to my body," a skill that for me needs work.  At practice the following night I bowed out of several drills due to the pain.  Wednesday I ran a mile and a half before breaking down, physically and mentally.

Running buddy Matt was up ahead with running buddy Chelsea.  She took off faster to make an appointment, and Matt turned around to join me.  At this moment the pain in my lower back was intensifying with each pounding step, and all I could think was that either rugby or running was going to have to go.  There I was, half way through our 3-mile loop around the spooky old detention center and through a beautiful field, and I was beginning to think this injury would prevent me from reaching my rugby and triathlon goals.  While poor Matt looked on I began to walk, and to cry.  We talked about options, giving up one sport or the other temporarily, or pushing through the pain to risk further injury but to keep playing with the team.  He asked, "What hurts worst?  Your body, your head, or your heart."

In that split second I came to the conclusion that I was less worried about the pain and injury that I was about losing this new athlete identity.  My life has become increasingly positive as a result of athletics, and I would be heartbroken if I couldn't continue.

Luckily, Matt convinced me to try to find a physical therapist before I threw in the towel.  So I called around and got a good referral from a friend.  I swear to you, this woman she recommended works miracles.  She laughed at how misaligned my body was, from my feet up through my neck.  Then she got to work.  Two sessions (and a boat load of cash) later, my back pain is almost gone, my joints are looser, and my surgically repaired ankle has massively improved range of motion.  I'll be back next Tuesday...

Most importantly, I feel whole again, knowing I can keep pushing towards my goals.  Afterall, SATURDAY'S A RUGBY DAY!!!

Try

Part of my job is observing classes.  When I get the privilege of observing art class, I often participate.  This is what happened this week...

Saturday's a Rugby Day!

Yesterday marked a number of firsts for my rugby career:
1. The first time I started a game playing lock.
2. The first time a scrum collapsed directly onto my brain.
3. The first time my mother, my sister, or my Jake watched any rugby game, let alone MY rugby game.
4. The first time Molly, who recruited me to rugby (and stuff) saw me play.
5. The first time I haven't had to fix my hair at every stoppage of play.

Mom and Molly.

Sister Kelly.

All through college I played prop, and our team's strategy was "Forwards Ruck."  Because the coaches seemed convinced that our forward brains could handle little more than this level of processing, there was much about the game that I didn't understand when I joined the Maryland Stingers last fall.  Apparently, forwards don't just ruck -- they maul, pass, punch, post, and score.  And they do these things on purpose!

What I love about playing for the Stingers is that I've learned more in my 3 cumulative months of practice and matches than I did in college.  I think a large part of this is my brief stint "coaching" a middle school team in LA a few years ago, but another significant reason is that the Stingers are great teachers.

Fun, despite the cold and the score...

Coach Pam makes certain that each of us understands the techniques, the reasons for the techniques, and how they fit into the bigger rugby picture.  The captains and more experienced players pull each of us aside when we make mistakes or are less than stellar, and explain to us what we did wrong and how we can improve.  And we DO improve, immediately, and in the long term.

Sadly, this level of commitment to improvement has not led us to victory yet this season (we've played only two matches).  It has led to some incredible efforts (Lynn diving face first into the mud to stop a try, Ta being pushed over the try line by her feisty forward support, Heimel kicking and sprinting past the other team (and her own team) to catch the kick)! 

Forwards DO ruck!

As Pam said at the end of yesterday's match, our performance was light years better than the weekend before.  And if we can improve to the same degree each week, we'll not get beaten much longer.  And by improve, what I really mean is hopefully some day we can teach Kate that standing there confused about which play we're running *sometimes* counts as obstruction, and that *sometimes* counts as a penalty, and that means we lose the ball.

Baby steps, people.  One lily pad at a time...

Battle Scars

My ankle, part metal since 2001.

Whenever I tell people I play rugby their first reaction is disbelief.  "Tough sport," they say.  "Why would you play RUGBY?"  And the answer is simple.  I play rugby because I can.  I play rugby because women aren't supposed to hit, to slam each other to the ground, to run fast, to throw elbows or stiff arms.  But in rugby, I can do all these things.  I must do all these things.  And I play rugby because it's fun.

A Maryland Stinger's bruise from last weekend's match.

Sometimes, though, rugby equals pain.  But in rugby we see breaks, bruises, and blood as proof of our strength, courage, and dedication.  Our battle scars become status symbols.  Hell, sometimes I think we wear clothing cut just so others can evaluate the color palette of our bruises or the length and depth of our scars.  Those marks mean we have struggled, we have taken a hit, and we have survived to score another try, to support another scrum, and to win another match. That's why I play rugby.  

And maybe a tiny part of me plays rugby just to piss off my mom...

In the Beginning

In high school I wanted nothing more than to be good at sports.  Lucky for me I went to a high school to which entry was granted based on academic performance.  As such, the athletic talent didn't run so deep.  But with my genes I quickly sunk to the bottom of the shallow barrel.

A tri-sport athlete every year, I was slightly better at volleyball and soccer, but loved nothing more than basketball.  Each season I joined the team thanks to the no-cut policy, and each year I warmed the bench.  I  began on the sub-freshman basketball team (I was the sixth man on a six woman team), and slowly worked my way closer to the front of the 20-girl JV bench.  By the end of junior year,  I was captain of the JV team, and sitting contentedly on the very end of the varsity bench.  Senior year the coach took pity on me and dressed me as varsity (#45) for every game, but I rarely saw more than two or three minutes playing time that season.

Despite the disappointment, the lack of playing time, and the skill deficit, I never quit.  Almost every year I was voted most dedicated or most improved by my team.  Every year I was desperate to get better.  I ran my hardest during conditioning, listened to and loved my coaches, and eagerly hoped for the day I would prove to everyone just what kind of athlete was hiding at the end of the bench.

I graduated from high school nearly twelve years ago, and after a long hiatus, that determination and desire to succeed has come rushing back.  I could conjecture (and do most Tuesdays) about what buried that drive and dedication so deeply for so long.  I quit exercising, quit writing, quit jobs, quit relationships, quit cities, nearly quit everything.  But what I know is this.  I'm back.

Since March 2010, I have been tirelessly pursuing athletic and personal goals for no other reason than to prove to myself I can achieve them.  It began with a simple goal: run a 5K.  From there I progressed to a 10K, and then to a half-marathon.  I've set my sights now on a successful rugby season and completing The Nation's Triathlon, seeking to raise $2,150 along the way for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society through Team In Training.

I hope you'll join me (and support me if you can) on my journey toward this and other goals.