Tag Archives: triathlon

Absurdity Over Inspiration

A lot has happened but I’m not going to tell you all at once because lately I’ve felt like I have nothing to write about. So I’m going to string the last couple of weeks out.

Hopefully to a month.

I did the local sprint triathlon for the third time. I believe this race is cursed.

Last year I was improving my first year’s time by 40 minutes when on mile one of the 5k I got a migraine. I was in the middle of a field with no where to go but follow the arrows for two miles. The migraine lasted two days.

This year I have piriformis syndrome. My left leg kills. I stopped running all together. To be honest, I stopped everything but swimming in hopes rest would make everything better. It did not.

The bike ride hurt. I don’t know why but my left leg decided to stop working before the run. It felt like I was peddling in mud. I kept switching gears but I knew it was me.

Then I basically walked the 5k. I walked off the extreme limping I started with to finish with just a slight limp. My kids were yelling “Run Mom” and I was ignoring them.

Everyone said it looked painful. They were right.

I tell you all that to let you know that I know it was an accomplishment to finish. I was in pain and barely moving and yet I kept going even though I knew I would be dead last. Very inspirational.

But I didn’t feel inspiring. I felt last.

I’ve read articles cheering on people who push through etc, but it hurt my pride. Before the injury, I was on track for the best race ever. I was going to beat my husband. It was going to be wonderful.

Then I became injured and part of me just gave up. It was so frustrating. And then I was last. I wanted my story to be of miraculous healing; not endurance through pain and being last.

It was horrid.

And it’s been hard for me to deal with being last. No one wants to be last. Even if they’re injured and inspirational.

It’s last.

I had to figure out a way to be okay with the race. I think I have.

I now believe the aura or spiritual entity of this race hates me. If you are wondering what the race entity looks like, it looks like this:RancorRancor

This idea brings me peace.

I guess I’m just the type of person who enjoys absurdity over inspiration.

Spray Tanning isn’t as Easy as it Sounds

Saturday was a sprint triathlon. Due to injury, I knew it wasn’t going to be a very good race. I was not looking forward to it.
The night before the race one of my friends who was also in it had the 6 participants and their families over for dinner. I jokingly mentioned I wanted to get a spray tan so I looked better in my spandex. My husband has an exchange w a tanning company so off the 6 of us went to get spray tans.
While driving to the salon, Tyler G said, “This happened all so fast, I don’t even remember agreeing.”
We got there half an hour before they closed and one hour before we had to go pick up our race packets. We didn’t have much time.
I’m not sure how many of you have spray tanned, but it’s really not something to be rushed.
You strip naked and then you’re supposed to rub lotion on your hands and feet because they’re so dry and will absorb extra spray.

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And you end up with a weird line on your toes.
After you stand in an odd position and try to hear when the computer lady tells you to turn, you’re supposed to towel off. But we were trying to get out fast so the next person could do it.
Anything that can be sprayed on you is liquid and if liquid isn’t dry, gravity will bring it down to a central location. Like your heel.

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I’m not saying that these looks aren’t totally hot and a huge turn on when wearing spandex and running, biking, and swimming. I’m just posting a public device announcement in case you want to get a spray tan and you think any idiot can do it.

(And I cannot believe how fat my ankle looks in that picture. I thought spray tanning was supposed to make me look sleek. Even if the spray is in a massive pool on my foot.)

I was Working (out) Part Time in a Five-and-Dime

For the last two years, my local YMCA has had a month-long indoor Ironman competition.  You have a month to do an Ironman, but the faster you finish, the better the prize you can choose.

Last year, I did it in 8 days.  I got a purple fleece that says YMCA on it.

My goal this year was to finish it in the second week again and get a green track jacket or fleece.  I wanted to see how many coats I could have that say YMCA on them.  (I actually have one fleece and two shirts from them.  By 2015 I should be have a full week’s worth.)

I road 112 miles in 3 days.  I swam 2 miles in 2 days.  And then I got sick.  And as I was walking 2 miles while blowing my nose and coughing, I realized I didn’t really need another fleece and that what I really needed was to lie down and take a nap.  So I did.  And the second week passed by along with my choice of an incredibly fashionable YMCA fleece.

I finished in three weeks so now I’ll just end up with a hoodie that says YMCA.  I’m unsure if I’ll wear that hoodie with pride or if I’ll be bitter when I look at it and think, “If only I’d gotten the flu shot.”  Hard to tell.

I think, instead, I’m going to turn it into a different goal.  I’m gonna see how much purple YMCA clothing I can collect and whenever I wear it, I’m gonna dedicate my workout to Prince.

I'm taking Rasberry Beret Donations

I’m taking Rasberry Beret Donations

Jogging Partners

Jogging is getting easier.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

While in Utah, I mentioned to my 20-something niece I needed to go jogging and she said she would like to go along the Provo River Trail and I should go with her so we could drop a car off at the bottom and only have to jog one way. I’m all about only jogging one way.

So I put on jogging shorts and a jogging shirt and a compression sleeve because this is Provo after all and fashion counts. I even had my cool triathlon sunglasses on and my Ipod nano with the headphones that are sweat and water proof except the wires are coming out of the protective sleeve so they might not be anything proof and one day electrocute me because I sweat like no other.

And then we went jogging together.

By jogging together, I mean that we were on the same path, except for that parking lot I got lost in, until my niece finished 20 minutes ahead of me and then I was jogging by myself while she walked to her car and had a nice cool drink of ice water.

It was pretty. And it was the farthest I’ve ever gone. But I posted it on Facebook and now my-slightly-older-but-much-more-in-shape cousin who runs-all-the-time said she’d like to run it with me.

I’m going to have to buy a cuter jogging outfit.

NOT Provo worthy

NOT Provo worthy

It’s Not a Coffee Shop, but I Do What I Can

So my goal has been to write but summer is… summer.  I find myself taking my kids all over the place just so I don’t have to hear them say: “I’m bored.”  (And when they do say it I can then rattle off all the places I’ve taken them and then talk about what an amazing mother I am for at least 5 minutes while they have to sit there.)

A few weeks ago I went to Utah to do some school shopping. (A total bust for the boys.  They still only had short sleeve shirts in the stores I visited.  And my 6 year old is still deciding if he’s a size 7 or 8.  I’m hoping he grows the extra half inch, BEFORE I buy pants.)  And we went to Chuckie Cheese and a water park and the new Percy Jackson movie.  I couldn’t do much writing in the movie theater, but I did pretty good at Chuckie Cheese and the water park.

I recommend writing at Chuckie Cheese.  It has unlimited Diet Pepsi.

This would be better proof if the notebook were actually open.

This would be better proof if the notebook were actually open.

 

Cross Chaining

Follow me on a journey where I take a very small lesson in life and twist it to where it applies to life principles found everywhere in the universe.

I recently took my bike in to be fixed because I was pretty certain my husband had messed with it.  I showed the bike store owner (I believe it adds to the story if you know he is about my age, very buff, and very, very knowledgeable about bikes and all things bike related.  Included padded shorts.)  I showed him what was wrong.  He looked at me and told me, “It’s time for some tough love.”  And then he told me I was cross chaining.

(You should google what this is because I’m about to destroy the definition.)

If your chain is on the front large wheel then it should be on the back small wheels.  If your chain is on the front small wheel then it should be on the back large wheel.  If your chain is on the front small wheel and the back small wheels then it is on an angle, or ‘crossing.’  So you shouldn’t ride your bike in every possible gear or you will cross chain and bring your bike into the bike shop thinking it’s broken when you really just don’t know how to ride a bike that has more than 3 gears or wasn’t purchased from JCPenney’s in 1988.

It’s tough love to be told something so basic and yet not exactly obvious knowledge.  If I shouldn’t do something, my bike shouldn’t allow me to do it.  That makes sense to me.  I need my margin for error shrunk to the smallest possible gap.  So that I don’t fall into that gap.

And here is where I enlarge this story to create a metaphor that only works if you read it while squinting.  Learning any basic lesson that you think you should just know is embarrassing.  But we gotta do it.  Because no matter how much we wish we could, we just can’t cross chain through life.

(Ok.  It’s at the very end it kind of comes a part.)

Mine is the one with a first aid kit.

Mine is the one with a first aid kit.

 

The Triathlon that Almost Wasn’t

I finished my second triathlon sprint.  I finished 20 minutes faster than I did last year, but it should’ve been 30 minutes.  After I’d swam 1000 yards, biked 12 miles and ran 1 mile, I got a migraine.
I started with denial.  I figured the aura in my eyes was from the brisk swimming pool water.  (The boiler had broken the night before and the water was only 75 degrees.  You usually swim in 78 degrees.  3 can be a very large number.)
Then I decided maybe my shoes were too tight and I loosened my shoe laces.
Then I started counting my breaths, thinking it would ease any stress in my head if I breathed in 4 counts and breathed out 5.
Then my eyesight really went crazy and I got slightly lost on the the run.  Then I found the path again and had to walk, while concentrating on florescent red markers.
As I walked across the finish line, I completely lost it and broke down as a friend led me to my car.
Now some would read this and think how strong I was to continue, although I didn’t have much of a choice because I was kind of in the middle of nowhere without much sight so the only way to get to Kevin was to follow the path.
But I don’t feel strong.

All I’m focusing on, for some odd reason, is how bummed I was I couldn’t celebrate all I’d accomplished.  I had really been looking forward to that burger and ice cream.  I had the flavor picked out and I was going to eat fries.  All without guilt.
There were tons of people there I knew.  It was going to be awesome.  I’m pretty sure someone would’ve lit fireworks.
Instead, I came home and took meds and closed the blinds and climbed into bed.  I stayed there for the next 24 hours.  I tried getting up Sunday and ended up back in bed.  My husband marveled at how much I slept.
So there ya have it.  I followed my own training advice: I kept going until they told me to stop.  And then I fell down.
LUCKILY, I’m the type to buy myself a reward for almost anything of significance I do and so I already had these babies:

The perfect reward!

The perfect reward!

I’m trying very hard to see what I accomplished and wear my bacon and egg earrings with pride and I honestly do.  But for some reason, without the celebration, it just doesn’t feel complete.  Sometimes things just need an end and this one didn’t have one and I have to learn to be OK with it.

(This does NOT mean I feel the need to do it again.)

I’m a Wanna-Be Outsider.

I am enraged.  Can you tell?

I tell everyone and anyone they should do a race with me.  Mostly I do this so I have someone to hang out with after a race and because I like my friends and I to have matching clothing.  So everyone knows that I did the YMCA triathlon training last year and I was going to do it this year.

My husband is doing it this year and he told a couple people.  5 of his friends are the in the class.  My numbers aren’t that good.  One of my friends who took it last year is taking it again (so I’m not counting her even though she really and truly does count in every way.  Especially if she reads this) and another friend I swim with is taking it.  But that  means that my husband won 5-1.  He’s going to have 5 friends he can wear the same shirt with.  How cool is that?  They’ll be able to re-enact The Outsiders.

I think I need to change my tactics.  Maybe if I tell women we can re-enact The Outsiders they’ll be more willing to go.

Or maybe not.

I Fell. And it hurt.

A month or so ago I said I would consider writing a part time job.  I lied.  Big time.  If it really was a job, I’d been fired about 3 days after I’d written that post.  Instead, I’m exercising.  I think I’ll do just about anything to avoid finishing my manuscript.

Yesterday, I ran around a block 7 times.  We ran up hill as fast as we could then recovered the next 3 lengths of the block, making a square.  My friend Cathy and I were the first ones there.  Sarah, the instructor, told the two of us that if I’d worn shorts, she would have cut the number of drills by one.  I wore capris.  I’m buying shorts tomorrow.

Then, after going home, I worried I wasn’t getting enough combination training in.  So I decided to go on a short bike ride. Then I was going to pack a room and write for an hour.  Because I’m nothing if not unrealistic.

I rode about a mile, turned down a side rode, and decided to turn around.  I hadn’t seen anyone on my ride.  Until I decided to turn around.  There were four people in their yard who watched me turn on gravel.  My bike slid out from under me and I slid across the road.  I’m really glad I was wearing capris.

I got up.  The people asked me if I was ok.  I said I was.  I tried to ride away.  My chain was off.  I put it back on before one of the guys got to me to help.  I was feeling really tough.  Until the air hit my arm which was missing a layer of skin.  Then I felt like calling my husband on my cell and telling him to come get me.  But I made it home.

Kevin wouldn’t clean out my wound.  He told me to shower.  He mentioned something about me being mean when hurt.  I took a shower.  I yelled a little when water hit my arm.  I got out.  Kevin looked at my arm and mentioned I didn’t clean it very well.  I told him to shut up.  (this may be what he’s talking about.)  I asked for morphine.  He said he was plum out.

I put a big bandage on it because it makes me feel better.  Then I wrote a paragraph and went to bed.

I will do anything to get out of writing.

Thi

This is smaller than it looks in real life.  In real life, it’s 2 feet long.

Born to Run. But not really.

I hate running.  I really really really really really hate it.  Words cannot describe how much I do not enjoy lifting my legs faster than a walk.  I used to jog occasionally and then I got a college degree and realized I hate it and stopped.

But I decided to do a triathlon and that’s part of it.  So I’m running.  A lot.

Last Saturday, a few friends drove down to Butte for a 5k.  The three of them are hilarious.  I thought the car ride down and lunch would be a riot.  (it was) I blocked out the fact the reason for the trip was the 5k.  And then we got there and it was cold and windy and hardly anyone ran so I couldn’t blend in with the other pathetic runners.  I was the lone pathetic runner; besides some teenagers who stopped running half way and walked.  I think their parents made them go because it was crappy weather and no one was going to show up.

I made it through the 5k.  I came in second in my age group.  There were two of us.

When I run, I suffer from severe lack of oxygen, which causes massive delusions on my part.  So when I was asked, right after the race, if I would like to go with some other friends and do the Spokane to Sandy Point Relay race in August, I said yes.    At least, that’s what I’m told.  I don’t remember anything that happened after the race.  Due to the delusions I previously mentioned.  (I would include a doctor’s note about these health issues but I’ve yet to find one who will use the correct wording.)

So now I have to train longer distances.  And I will be running three legs of this relay.  Within 24 hours.  So I will sleep in a van.  And shower somewhere to be announced.  And I have to do it SOBER, supposedly.

I really hate midlife crises.  They wreak havoc on the knees.