Braving the Big Water Dish - By Fezzy and Buttercup

There is my leash! There are our leashes, let's go, Buttercup.

Hmmm, OK, But don't jump on me, Fezzy.

There's Mommy, Buttercup! Lounging in the big water dish next door!

I know Fezzy, she spotted me first.

Buttercup, come roll in the grass with me!

Oooh, Fezz, what did you find - that smells delightful!

Why is Daddy yelling at me to put down a dead mouse, Buttercup?

I don't know, but I just got yelled at for eating poop.

Let's get closer and check out the big water dish, Buttercup.

Nah, you go ahead, Fezz, I've got some poop hunting to do.

Wowoweee, who is picking me up? Why is Mommy grabbing me and placing me on some big pillow in the water dish? It is not so easy to stand. OK. I will sit. The big pillow is moving - I am glad Mommy is near. There is Daddy! OK, maybe I will lie down. Hmmm - this is kind of nice. I feel the wind, let me sniff it. Buttercup - do you see what I am doing! Buttercup, stop rolling on the dead mouse before mom and dad yell at you!

Huh, what? Oh, there you are Fezzy. Why are you on the big pillow in the big water dish?

Here, I will come over to the edge of the dish and tell you, Buttercup. Hey, where did Mommy go?

Looks like you lost your pillow, Fezzsster, because Mommy wanted to give me a head rub. Oh no - what is going on? I did not want to be on the big pillow! Uh, uh, I am too old for this. I must lie down. Wait, this really is just like a big pillow, even though it is in a water dish. I love pillows. I can do this!

Buttercup, it is my turn! Grrrr - hey Buttercup - watch this - want some poop?

The Funk Is Lifting?

I think I've been more in a funk than I realized since losing my mojo a few weeks back.

I'm usually a "glass half full" kind of girl (and make it a big one for my vino, please). But, the last few weeks I've been a bit less positive than usual.

Nothing seemed good enough. The 4.4 swim was not what I expected. I didn't love riding the Blue Ridge as much as others did.

Then a few things happened today. I read a few wonderful blogs and caught another version of the Hoyt video posted on the TRIgirl forum. I pushed myself for the first time in weeks during today's run.

And I realized I've been neglecting some key components to training.

Like TRIgirl CD's word - appreciate.

Appreciating I am fortunate enough to complete any 4.4 mile swim - to literally swim across a bay - no matter how hard it was or how long it took. To run - as labored and painful as my running is. To be surrounded by wonderful, fabulous, strong team mates and friends.

And - challenge.

It can't and probably shouldn't always be easy. I think I'd reached a comfort level with a few gains I'd made and forgot the fear, pain and struggle it has taken me to achieve even the smallest improvements.

And - perspective.

Perspective that this first Blue Ridge ride didn't have to be about loving the crazy long hills. When your history includes jumping off the bike at the sight of much smaller inclines than this weekend's challenging climbs, maybe "not hating" the Blue Ridge for my first outing was good enough.

And my own word - believe.

Kind of tied to the challenge word above - letting go of the fears and doubts that can so easily provide the excuses to not try something new or that squelch the opportunity to rise above preconceived ideas about limitations.

And TRIgirl SQ's word - joy.

Triathletes can get so caught up in training - the equipment and the gadgets and the nutrition. Sometimes adjusting a workout - to take advantage of a kayaking or hiking opportunity may do more for the mental spirit than any prescribed training. Or letting a friend's happiness in a bike ride (that still seem unfathomable) or another's progress in overcoming the fear of open water - touch the soul and inspire you to remember...

Why you really do this crazy thing called triathlon.

Riding the Blue Ridge

A little over a year ago, several brave TRIgirls ventured out to ride the Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway.

I did not join them and basically thought they were crazy. I may have even swore I'd never try that route, especially after hearing some of the ride reports.

Never say never.

One of my goals for 2008 is to be less afraid and more confident riding hills. Which has since involved the equipment change - and some attitude adjustments.

The equipment switch-a-roo did not go quite as planned. While greatly enjoying my first kayaking experience with a few team mates along the lovely North Anna River on Friday, the bike store called to share that the new Dura-Ace set-up had not arrived in time. Thankfully and coincidentally, Coach B was at the store WHILE this was all going on and basically told the bike dudes that they needed to figure something out (thank you, Coach B) - there would be no excuses to avoid the Blue Ridge ride. The bike store hooked me up with some temporary store gear, which seemed fine as I checked it out while cruising up and down the street.

Saturday morning, we met at 5:45 to carpool the twoish hours to the Blue Ridge Mountains. Coach B reminded us to enjoy the view once as drove the Blue Ridge Parkway to our starting point - as we'd be enjoying it in a slightly different mode on our bikes. Ironman JW kindly offered to brave the drive with three other TRIgirls and me.

I dozed off for a bit, but was wide awake as we traversed up the Parkway.

We are supposed to ride THAT?

Steep hills that bordered beautiful mountain views, but seemed forever long in the car with some scary looking curves and steep drops.

Gulp.

There was no turning back, though I had visions of being pulled over on the side of the road waiting for the rest of the crew to come and get me.

The first leg was about 13 and half miles to the Blue Ridge's "mile 0" Visitor's Center. The hills were gradual, tough climbs, but the downhills seemed longer. The ride seemed doable. But I can't say I quite enjoyed it. I didn't know what to expect - the downhills seemed very long, which was scary for the first leg, but also a bit perturbing as to what waited ahead as I needed to turn around and hit the same stretch again in the opposite direction.

The temporary gearing was less than perfect. Big clunks and sputters as I shifted from the big to small chain ring - causing lots of adjustments and loss of what little momentum I had gained.

We regrouped at mile 0 and Coach B wondered where my smile was. I told him I was reserving all comments until the end of the ride.

We headed back up - Coach B rode with me for a bit and gave me lots of good advice and encouragement. The first three miles after the turnaround was a continuous uphill of varying grades. Then a welcome downhill break - then another three to fourish uphill climb that seemed the most challenging of the day. I was not very happy during this stretch. Patriot Sangria's temporary gears were extra clunky when they were pushed to the limits - which was frustrating (maybe, ideally, the first ride with the new gearing would have been less strenuous). I started to plan on calling it a day whenever I finally reached the parking lot. Coach B backtracked a bit during this period and told me that one of his team leaders would not quit and would still do the full 35 mile option. I stayed in "we'll see" mode. TRIgirl SL, who'd been sweeper on the first leg, glided by at one point - and I witnessed true climbing ability. Finally the monster hill - dubbed the oxygen deprivation section by TRIgirls KO and LD was over. The rest of the ride seemed easier, though I was a bit disheartened because any ground I made (which wasn't much) on the uphills, was often tossed aside as team mates whizzed by me on the downhills. I tried to brake only when encountering the steeper descends or more curvy sections, but it was obvious that I was weaker, if that was possible, on the downhills, rather than the uphills.

The second 13.5 miles (1 hour 8 minutes) was tougher than the first (53 minutes), but finally, the parking lot was in sight! We pulled over and regrouped. I would have happily called it a day, had it not been for Coach B's words, TRIgirl KO's promise that the next section wasn't as bad and TRIgirls KB and JB's encouragement to just get the ride done. We headed out - and I really did enjoy the last 9ish miles of more gentle (this had become a relative term) climbs and rolls, ending the day's bike on a good note.

Unbeknown to several of us doing the 35 mile option, many folks planned on doing some or all of the follow-up run the following day. So, TRIgirls JB, KB, KB's husband and sweet dog, Gracie, TBro and I headed out on a nearby trail - which was really a pretty decent hike. TRIgirl KB and I quickly decided a good, one hour, steady walking hike was sufficient vs. trying to run the darn thing (TRIgirl JB said she walked most of it - but was quite a bit ahead of us with the boys). Actually, it was a rare opportunity. I couldn't remember the last time I hiked. We weren't dressed for the occasion in our bike gear - but it was nice to be climbing rocks and leafy trails - with Gracie always looking out for us, making sure we were OK. TRIgirl KB (aka Little Miss Sunshine - perfect nickname for my hiking buddy) chatted and enjoyed the cross training opportunity.

When we arrived back at camp, many of the 35-45 milers were waiting with an impressive food and drink buffet. A little while later, a few of my remaining carpool buddies finished up their runs as the feasters were packing-up their cars and heading back to Richmond.

We enjoyed another little spread together, before hitting a local Bar-B-Que dive for some of the best potato salad I'd ever had. And a little post ride celebratory beverages.

We drove back to town, reliving the ride, tormenting Ironman JW with our girly talk and looking at pictures from TRIgirls' Fave and KO's cameras.

A long day over, some progress on the hill phobia addressed. My pace wasn't great, but I finished the 35 mile option feeling okay. Other than the planned regroupings, I didn't have to stop or walk any of the ride.

Though I still can't imagine attempting this type of ride for 112 miles.

Patriot Sangria is Nervous

Or maybe it is me?

Tomorrow she goes in for some new gear - or rather - a switch in gear.

Seems her 56 big chain ring is not really suited for big hills, like this weekend's upcoming Blue Ridge Mountains ride.

So a 53 will be replacing the 56 - at least temporarily.

Coach B tells me I can save the 56 for flat races, like Florida or White Lake.

Ironwoman Canada is telling me to never put it back on again.

I'm thinking investing in a turbojet may have solved the whole hill problem much more easily.

4.4 Mile Great Chesapeake Bay Swim

Before getting into the details. I finished. TRIgirl JH, too. Without a wetsuit I might add!

I am glad I didn't write this race report right after the swim. Reflecting for a bit has helped me gain some insight.

The swim was hard. Much harder than I thought it would be.

Physically tough, yes. But, what I've come to realize, mentally even more so.

I went into the race thinking it would be long, leisurely swim, kind of like what the Cap to Cap was for the bike a few weeks ago.

I'd be able to cruise along since I wouldn't have to worry about sighting - not with such a huge bridge surrounding me.

I thought it would be like swimming two extra loops on the beautiful IMFL course.

I was wrong.

I didn't sleep very well the night before. I was excited and nervous, but not really in a bad way. Though the race didn't start until 10:00, I woke up around 6:30 to eat a PBJ, down some coffee - and then drive over to the finish where shuttle buses waited (well, where we waited and waited for the shuttles) to take us back over the bridge to the start. Many standing in the bus line were sporting swim club or college shirts. There were a few tri tees and ironman tattoos - but you could tell - this was a group of serious swimmers.

Then more waiting. Thankfully, TRIgirl JH and a few other new friends helped the time go by until the pre-race meeting. The race director shared tips about the current (thank goodness I listened). Anyone not able to stay within the span of bridges would be quickly escorted out of the water.

It was hot (The heat index would be 110 degrees - and I thought about TRIgirl SE who was about 30 miles away racing Eagleman). Pulling the wetsuit over my sweaty body was tiring. TRIgirl JH and I dunked ourselves in the water. The bay felt great. It looked calm. Little swells here and there, but no whitecaps or noticeable chop. Then it was time to end the warm-up - for the official mass beach start. I stayed back and let the aggressive swimmers go ahead. For awhile, I kept up with a group of swimmers.

We swam from the beach to where the pylons opened up. Everything was going well. Swimming under the bridge was surreal and awesome - looking up and seeing the huge structure - and then looking ahead and seeing nothing but more bridge and water. I was feeling good and strong until the first mile buoy (the only one I would see for the day). Right around that time I started to notice the current. It seemed to be intensifying, gradually pushing me to the left. I continued swimming. Being a predominately right side breather, I didn't notice how close I was to being off course - until I stopped and turned to the left. Yikes. I swam furiously to be more in the middle again. As TRIgirl JH said - it was like an endless pool - a treadmill of water. The next mile became a battle to not be pushed out again. I would focus on pylon after pylon at a 45 degree angle and sight. Every once in awhile I'd look forward - and could tell just how crablike my body was positioned.

I was pulling - hard - not to go fast - but to just keep moving along. It seemed like forever. Kayakers were everywhere, which was reassuring. Swimmers were nowhere, which was not. I stopped and talked to a kind kayaker who was cruising along next to me. I was worried maybe I wasn't going to make the second mile cut-off. She told me I was fine and well within the cut-off - the second mile was just ahead. Back to swimming, stroke after stroke. Around this time, I saw the first cap from the "fast wave." He was way ahead of the rest of his group - and cut through the water with grace and ease.

The current was supposed to be completely calm in the middle before switching directions. It did ease up a bit, but hung around until almost the third mile (around the time I paused to chat with another kayaker). I didn't perceive much of a break at all. Then the push to the right began.

At least it was easier to keep track as I was breathing to the right. With minor adjustments here and there, I was swimming fairly straight. Finally a few more caps from my wave.

Left arm, right arm, pull, pull, pull. I felt the effects of the current fighting in my arms. Every so oftern, I'd kick harder to give my arms a break. I looked ahead - yay - land - time to leave the span and swim back in, right? I asked a kayaker where the turnout was, he replied, "Not for awhile, you still have another mile left before you head out."

What?

Another mile!

But the shore is RIGHT there?

I went from excited to deflated. And went back to swimming. The current was still annoying, but familiar - and a few larger swells were giving me nice little rides.

Then, the most beautiful big pink and blue buoy - it was time to leave the bridge span.

And about another quarter mile of swimming until the finish line.

I remembered that a swimmer before the race had told me that at this point, you could walk into the beach if needed. I put my feet down and touched the sandy bottom. Standing up for a few minutes felt great. I ran a few steps and went back to swimming. For the first time in hours, the current was gone - just easy swimming. Ahhh, a tiny taste of what I'd been hoping for all morning long.

And finally, I stood up for good and crossed the timing mats. I felt dazed and tired. The clock read 3:15. I'd hoped to finish in under 3 hours. 562/602 swimmers. Back at the bottom of the list!

But the race I'd envisioned was much different than reality. I was grateful to have finished at all.

My head was throbbing, probably from no food or drink. I grabbed some water, found my gym bag and threw on a pair of shorts. Looking for some food - I ran into TRIgirl JH and her family! She had finished a few minutes before me. Her family was so supportive and kind. Her kids, so proud. Her thoughtful mom even bought a 4.4 swim sticker for me (thank you!!!).

We compared notes - and nearby swimmers chimed in. It had been a tough year. One woman said this was her eleventh swim - and though she was in better shape, this was her second slowest time.

If you asked me yesterday - and a few folks did - I would have told you the Great Chesapeake Bay Swim was an amazing accomplishment, but I wouldn't do it again.

But now, a day later, I think I might. Maybe not 2009, but a couple years out.

Next time, I'll know what to expect.

To pack for battle instead of vacation.

That is a Very, Very Long Bridge

Overwhelming at times, exhilirating at times.

Tomorrow, I'll be attempting to swim 4.4 miles in open water.

Tomorrow, I'll be attempting to swim the span of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.

Tomorrow, I'll be attempting to swim across a bay.

How cool could it be?

Big thanks to all you wonderful friends and family who have called, emailed and texted. You guys are the best - and I so appreciate your encouraging thoughts!

Race Report - Route 66 Olympic

brrrring, Brrrring, BRRRRING.

The wake-up call sang out to me Sunday morning around 5:15.

"I really wouldn't mind if it is raining so I can roll right back over" was the first thought in my mind as I looked out the window to see a clear, dark morning mocking me.

So, instead, I stretched out for a few minutes before resigning myself that there was no excuse to skip the day's race.

No nerves, nothing to really do, I dressed, grabbed my gear - and met up with three other co-workers - all guys (and a fabulous sherpa girlfriend).

One coworker and I joked about how easily we could be convinced to find a rich 'ol, fattening, yummy breakfast - until we were split up by the more dedicated and motivated of the bunch to head over, once again, to El Reno Lake.

The drive - and company - helped my mood. I progressed from "I don't want to do this" to "I guess I have to do this" to "I'll do this and think of it as a training day." The open water exposure would be a good warm-up for next weekend - and the rest of the race would help burn off the abundance of conference calories waiting for me. I'd left my Garmin at home by accident - and knew that without a watch there wouldn't be much of a way to really keep track of how I was doing.

We arrived at the race site. It was humid, but overcast and less windy. The water was calm.

The coworkers I raced with were awesome - I think we were more concerned with helping each other than anything else.

"Need some body glide?"

"Want a tray to wash your feet?"

"Do you have an extra towel?"

The race announcer seemed a bit...grumpy from the previous day. He chastised us about the record number of penalties given out at the previous day's Sprint. He warned us that he did not want a repeat of yesterday's swim - and if anyone was even remotely uncomfortable in open water, he'd let them race in the "Land Lovers" category.

We all headed down to the lake as the race was a mass start. After my coworkers and I gave each other last high fives - I headed to the back of the pack. The gun sounded and we were off. The water was very murky - similar to the James River. If there were any fish or debris, I couldn't see it.

I soon realized I probably shouldn't have started quite so far back. Big, oblivious men created a road block as I tried to settle in. One particularly annoying guy would not let me pass as he criss-crossed in front of me while I tried to swim around him. I gave up on keeping a path close to the buoys and veered off to the outskirts of the course. There, I finally started to find my groove.

Exiting the water, one volunteer unzipped my wetsuit, another pulled me up to the race exit - and after a short run, a couple more helped strip off my wetsuit (how cool was THAT at an Olympic distance race???!!!). Going into transition, I checked the clock - 31:10.

And I smiled - a nice 6-7 minute gain from my past Olympic PR swim.

In transition, I started to prepare for the bike. One of my coworkers exited the swim and since we were racked together, we spent some time trading stories.

I breathed a sigh of relief starting the bike. There was wind, but not nearly as bad as the day before. Still, I was only cautiously optimistic. Three days in Oklahoma had taught me that the winds tended to pick up throughout the day.

My luck held out. Just a steady, reasonable crosswind for the entire bike. I passed through the same course as the previous day, then hit the race hills. I'd worried about the race climbs, but they were really just a series of long rollers. Four each way on the out and back of the extra 13ish miles. The worst part of the bike was a valley between two climbs, with a particularly bumpy asphalt pot hole patch, further complicated by the array of abandoned water bottles.

Pulling into transition, I met up with two other coworkers for a couple of minutes as we got ready for the run. Trying to do the math when checking the race clock, my bike time looked decent - about 1:22 for 25 miles. A noticable pacing improvement from the previous day's relay.

I started the run. It was humid, warm - but overcast for the first three miles. The run was a two loop out and back, with about half of each leg on packed dirt. No shade, but nice views of the lake.

I swear the 1.6ish legs seemed way longer. I walked all the water stops as the humidity was getting to me. One coworker, who was competing in the "Land Lover" category, ran by and was quickly out of sight. My other coworkers and I trudged along, giving each other high fives, as the sun started to heat up the course a bit more.

Finally the second loop was ending and the finish was in sight. My fastest Olympic tri run at 1:01:30ish.


Was I reading the clock right - did it say 3 hours and 40 seconds? An overall PR of about 19 minutes and PRs for all three legs - swim, bike and run? TRIgirl CD had predicted it a few days ago, but I hadn't believed her. I was never more happy to be wrong.

And oh, that 40 seconds. Had I known just 40 seconds would stand between me and a sub 3 hour race, my transitions may not have looked like this:



Yes, out of all women, I finished LAST in both T1 and T2.

Overall I was very happy - the day turned out well. Racing with my coworkers was very cool. We cheered each other across the finish line. One lifted me in a big bear hug to celebrate.

We took pictures, ate - and packed up our gear as storm clouds started to come through.






Only later I would learn, after the results were posted online, I placed first in my age group.

Now there were only five people in my age group.

But I can't deny it felt very cool to see my name at the top of the list instead of the bottom!

Race Report - Route 66 Sprint - Saturday's Relay

First, some background.

This weekend's triathlon doubleheader was thanks to my company's incredible CEO. A year or so ago, he was bitten by the tri-bug. Since, then, he has promoted wellness and exercise through company-wide programs, including coordinating tri competitions during this year's annual conference. I am so fortunate and grateful to work for corporate executives who, not only offer outstanding medical benefits, but also promote a healthy and active lifestyle.

Over 50 (of about 470ish employees across the nation) participated in yesterday's Route 66 Sprint Triathlon. Most signed up for a relay leg, but a few were undertaking their first sprint distance race.

A bus was waiting at 5:45 race morning to take our group to El Reno. I can't imagine the thoughts of those who watched our crew (about 20% of the day's participants) disembark the bus and grab bikes from a UHaul.

Knowing a few folks were newbies, I offered help, such as gently telling coworkers that race chips belonged around ankles vs. wrists.

Remembering the shock of open water compared with pool swimming, I encouraged my relay swim partner to test out El Reno lake, a very murky body of water, with a strong current.

We swam a few strokes before I realized she was trying to swim freestyle with her head completely above the water. Then she was panicking. She did not think she could do the swim.

I tried to conjure up every tip I'd ever learned about feeling comfortable in the water. We worked on swimming to and from landmarks closer to shore and where we could always touch the bottom. She was doing better.

Soon, after, the race started. This was my first relay (bike leg) so I watched with a bunch of coworkers from the shore. Right from the gun, the panic was apparent and the kayakers rescued a few racers before they reached the first buoy. The boats brought in about 20 racers - but I did not see my coworker. I breathed a cautious sigh of relief and headed to transition to wait for her.

The first wave racers were pulling in, as well as some relay racers from my company. Suddenly, my coworker was at my side. She asked for assistance at the second buoy - and was pulled in by a rescue boat. Officially DQed, but still excited - she had made her personal goal to swim to the second buoy.

Fumbling for a second about whether we could still continue as a relay team, we switched the chip anklet and I grabbed Patriot Sangria.

Off to ride the 12ish worst miles I'd ever encountered.

There were small rolling hills.

And the strongest wind I've ever encountered. Not just an occasional wicked gust or two - but a constant crosswind that challenged my ability to stay aero - a battle I often lost as Patriot Sangria was being blown across the road. The last, long gradual hill back to transition seemed treacherous as it was smack into the ridiculous headwind.

Twelve and a half miles on the bike took me about 44 minutes.

In transition, I happily handed the chip to our team's runner - who rocked the 5k in about 29 minutes!

I loved watching my fellow employees race - for many this was their first triathlon. Their pride, excitement and joy left me exhilerated. I heard more than once about "next time."

We traded stories about the day.

We watched several teams (somehow even mine) receive awards.

We celebrated.

It was incredible.

Though I can't say I was very excited about the next day's Olympic race - and grappling with 25 miles of Oklahoma wind.