Final reflections on Wildflower 2012

Now that I'm finally rehydrated after a few days and can think with more clarity, I've had time to mull over Wildflower and think about what I nailed and what aspects of my race or my training that I could improve upon.  First of all, as I've said before, it was different to go into this race with expectations and goals.  While I stated that my main goal was to enjoy myself, I certainly wanted to improve my time which I actually accomplished by a decent margin, and I need to acknowledge that and give myself props.  The swim, my transitions and the bike were all better than last year's race, and even better, I didn't make any major or minor gaffs, like breaking my good pair of sunglasses (that happened at the Santa Barbara Tri).  I did enjoy both of those legs and pushed myself more on them than last year, giving myself good margin of improvement there.  In addition to focusing on swim and bike performance and improving upon that, I was also psyched about the goggles in which I invested and in the tri top - much better than last year's!

As for the run, which turned out to be my 'bete noire', I've spent plenty of time thinking about that leg and also trying to reframe the experience to some degree.  When I went back and looked at my times, I saw that I was about 2 minutes slower than last year which could hardly be defined as "terrible", especially considering that it was still my strongest leg.  That is according to all of the statistical data that the kind people at TriEvents provide.  However, it frustrated me to no end that I found myself walking as much as I did and that I ended the race without the elated sense of triumph that I experienced last year.  Perhaps that was a one-time deal?  I'm not sure, but I've looked at my 'official' race photos and I look completely beaten at the end.  Yes, I ran in the finish, but with a sense of urgency to be done, no celebratory spirit.  This experience really drove home the fact that I depend on a strong run to feel at all like a competently active and somewhat athletic person and that I always assume that I'm going to have a strong run as the third leg of a tri ("strong"is  within my own framework of the meaning of the word).  So, I ended the race feeling pretty bad physically and that shadowed, to some degree, the other 2 + hours of it during which I felt fine.  Looking back, I can say that my training was solid and I definitely had more bike-run bricks this time around, but I rarely trained in 85+ degrees weather.  Also, I don't think that I ate or drank nearly enough on the bike during the race, which is often an issue for me, but I need to be more aware of that, especially when it's a hot day.

In other ways, Wildflower was a great experience, much like last year.  The distance is great for my body which felt quite good on Monday and even better on Tuesday when I had totally re-hydrated. I love the energy, and I love the way people - even competitors (at my level, at least) - cheer each other on, even if they are strangers.  The shared experience is one of triumph and suffering, elements that touch on so much of the human condition.  I also love how beautiful the course is, how you know that you are almost home free on the run when you see the lake again, and I want to be able to appreciate that aspect every time I participate (which will hopefully be a regular thing).  The level of competition is also something that I don't normally experience at other events in which I participate.  Will I ever be at an event at which Julie Moss and Chris McCormack make an appearance?  Probably not!  Finally, I'm a huge fan of the t-shirt and the finisher's medal, so that's an added bonus, especially as I walk around the house with my medal around my neck...

The "final" final reflection does have me looking forward to my Boulder race which is officially 3 months away.  That gives me time to kick up my training, but this also brings into sharp relief the need for me to focus on this race and to not assume that I can pull off 70.3 without amping up my training in a serious way.  Thinking about the next race and then the next one - I know that I'm not basking in a sense of contentment over Wildflower.  A part of me wishes that I were or that I could, but I'm also at peace with my performance and, I'll say it again, believe that this experience might (or should) make me a smarter and stronger swimmer, biker, runner.

Speaking of runner, I'm off to scamper up some hills in my awesome Wildflower t-shirt!

Respecting the race

Wildflower 2012, the 30th anniversary of the event, is officially over, and I am left with mixed feelings about my performance.  Not about the event which was amazing and inspiring and makes a part of me wish that I still had it in my future rather than my past.  At the same time, there is much about yesterday that I would not want to repeat any time soon - okay, not "much" but about 4 kilometers of horrible running (or walking, really).  I realize that I am beginning at the end, so I'll back up, but I will say that I probably learned more in this race than I have in any over the past 18 months that I've returned to "racing" as a fun little extracurricular interest.

I may have to wait on the deep thoughts post until another day, but I'll share some of the blow-by-blow and entertain people with photos. 

So, to back up to Saturday, Michael and I screeched out of our driveway early Saturday afternoon.  I spent the morning with students reviewing for their AP exam - fun times!  My mind was definitely not focused on them as I kept looking at the clock, anxious to lock up the room and get the hell up to Paso Robles and Lake San Antonio!  We made great time, arriving at the lake around 5:30.  I picked up my packet and tried to soak in some of the energy buzzing around the expo.  Sadly, I did not get a hat this year because they had sold out of the cool colors - major bummer.  But I picked up my packet - for a moment on Friday I panicked that I had not really registered.  I love it when my mind plays tricks on me!

We spent Saturday night in Paso Robles - enjoyed a great meal and crashed pretty hard on the early side.  At some point during the day, I wished that we were camping, but that was a fleeting moment, confirmed on Saturday night when we both fell asleep about as soon as our heads hit the pillos.  Sunday was a more relaxed morning than I've experienced for many races.  I woke up super excited, and it was fun to see all of the cars driving from Paso Robles to the lake with bikes on their rack or in the back.  My wave started very late, but I had to have everything in place at least by 9:00.  My goal was to hit the transition area by 8:30 which we managed easily.  Just like last year, I walked my bike down the f-ing hill.  Actually, I think Michael carried it down and I hauled my backpacking backpack, schlepping all that gear. Once we arrived at the transition area, the excitement really hit me - the "YES, this is IT" moment.  I found my assigned place, and I did enjoy that racking the bike and setting up my transition area did not feel so foreign.  Last year, everything intimidated me, so I appreciated a slight sense of familiarity (no expertise, however).

I then hung out with Michael - we watched the start of the race which was awesome, all those fast young people!  At 10:20, I decided to get ready. Body marked, wetsuit on - it's time!  Well, almost.  

And then wait around before the swim.  And wait around some more.

By the time our wave was called (10:40 - talk about a late start!), I couldn't wait to get in the water!  We could swim out before our official start, and the water felt great.  Couldn't I just keep swimming?!  I got out and then waited those long 2 minutes or so until our wave started.  As we were standing around waiting, they played "Hammertime" by MC Hammer, and the announcer said "You should all remember when this song came out - you were in high school or college!"  Ah, thank you for that memory!  And then we had 10 seconds left and then we started - into the water!  The swim ended up being my favorite leg, to my surprise, probably because I felt fairly strong going into the water and coming out of it. 

T1 was an improvement over last year's terrible transition times, but I did get disoriented because a group of relay people were standing right in front of my bike and I got lost - couldn't see the numbers.  When I realized that I was in the right rack, it kind of pissed me off that they happened to be in my way.  And were then clueless when I tried to get to my stuff.  Grrr!  At any rate, I managed to whittle away about 2 minutes from last year's transition time.  I did not, however, have a graceful mount - it took me forever to clip in!  And then it was up, up, up Lynch Hill.  

I had forgotten what a beast that ride is.  Obviously it's nothing compared to the Long Course, but the hills come at you relentlessly.  While it's great to speed the downhill, the climbs are tough.  However, I was thankful for them since, once again, I could pass people on the ascent.  The bike was a stronger leg than last year, although I looked down at 35 km and knew that I was pretty far off my "dream" time.  Still, I kept pushing and gave Michael a smile (now I look at this photo and I think "Should I be in my drops?").

Finally, the run.  My T2 time was great for me - under 3 minutes, how did that happen?  Oh, laces!  Yes, I actually bought some cheap-o speed laces.  I think these are for children, not athletes, but they worked so I could slide into my running shoes and take off running!  That was what I did for about the first 4 kilometers, I ran.  And then I hit one hill after another, and I walked.  And walked some more. I pushed it occasionally, and then went back to walking.  At a certain point, I realized that there was no way that I would match my 10k pace from last year, but my body did not have the energy to match my mind's determination to get moving.  Nope.  My feet hurt, it was hot, my legs were tired, it was hot, and the run was killing me. Did I mention that it was hot? I was, quite frankly, suffering on the run.  Finally, at around 7 kilometers, the course evened out, and I could jog along.  I saw Michael and maybe gave him a thumb's up?  Maybe a thumb's down?  I'm not even sure, but it lifted my spirits to no end to know that the finish line had to be near and to know that he'd been there cheering me on.  I may have lost a few seconds by getting a smooch from him, but it was a necessary break.

From this point on, the downhill slant pulled me to the finish line.  It helped that spectators were yelling "One more mile to go!".  I am quite confident that the last mile was a sub-8:00 minute pace, although I really couldn't tell you for sure.  What I do know is that my legs managed to find the strength and energy to get down that hill and then cross the finish line running.  

Once I crossed the finish line, I actually started crying - this must be the race at which I cry every year.  Last year, I was so emotional on the final hill, amazed that I was at Wildflower and could finish.  This year, I believe that I shed tears of exhaustion and relief and a final sense of accomplishment when they put that damn finisher's medal around my neck.  I often view finishers' medals with a certain dose of skepticism, but this medal felt so well-deserved after the run.  

I did not achieve my 'ideal' race goal, not in terms of time and performance, but I also feel a sense of satisfaction that I don't often have when I sign up for the casual road race or a race that I don't know and of which I don't have any expectations.  Here, I did have expectations for myself, and they were crushed.  And not in the way that I would have chosen - that I 'crushed' my time and had bragging rights.  No, that did not happen.  However, I know that I improved my performance on the swim and the bike, and I pushed myself on the run as much as I possibly could.  I earned my medal, t-shirt and towel (yes, they gave us a towel that I plan to frame as soon as I can!), and I ended the race with far more respect for every single person who suffers while racing and for this race in particular.

One final thought for now - I certainly plan to make it three years in a row!  Wildflower 2013!

Just a quick meltdown and then I'll be fine

Welcome to what I thought would be a nice taper week, but it's turned into something quite different.
At least that has been the last 48 hours or so - bouncing between a possible meltdown and total confidence.  And, yes, it's less than a week until Wildflower, which definitely contributes to the wonky state of being.  I've hesitated to call this my priority race, but it really is just that.  While I've certainly invested tons of money in other experiences and events, I would say that this is the one that I'd like to go all out -  guts and glory and all that stuff.

Which is why I panicked on Friday morning after an achey-knee-run on Thursday and called my knee doctor so that I could get a cortisone shot before the race.  I've now reconsidered but have yet to cancel the appointment.
But it is also why, when I woke up yesterday morning and could barely walk, I almost had a major freak out. Instead, I peed (the reason that I got up in the first place), and then I looked up every single configuration of "cramp + recovery" or "calf + cramp+ swimming+ treatment" to see if I could find some kernel of enlightenment about my delicate condition.  Instead, I found a lot of crap on the interweb and discovered that I could possibly have a blood clot!  Doubtful, but good to think about these days. To me, the irony of all of this sudden drama is that I've had a healthy training cycle for the past however-many months.  Then this just bit me in the ass!

After a pretty perfect Saturday, Sunday was a day that could have been filled with anxiety and frustration as I sat around and obsessed over my sore calf.  While there moments of that, especially as my mind kept turning to the final Sunday ride that I canceled, I decided to enjoy the fact that I could fully rest (third rest day of the week - luxury!), have a low-key morning and hang out with some friends at dinner, eating Mexican food and drinking a margarita (or two?).  As the day progressed, I realized that the pain in my calf was very localized - it just hurt like a mother when I did certain exercises or movements, like going downstairs or after sitting for a while and then getting up to walk around.
Today has been more of the same - descending with trepidation the many staircases that I encounter at work, but  feeling great while standing, pacing in class and definitely strong enough to go for a four-mile run.  We'll see where this leaves me for the weekend, but I am fairly but please don't jinx me confident that Sunday's race will go well. "Going well" would be finishing at a certain time that I don't want to voice publicly.  However, I would also like to remind myself on Sunday that two years ago, I was still recovering from knee surgery and a 2-mile run was an awesome accomplishment.  Three years ago, I couldn't even run.  So, I would like to not lose sight of the fact that all of "this" (running, swimming, biking, and having fun!) is a gift that I don't want to take for granted.

And I will try to remind myself of that thought regularly between now and Sunday morning.

The bazillion things that I'd rather do than go to a music festival

In some circles of Southern Ca, people identify the month of April with a little 3-syllable word that rhymes with nothing that I can think of: Coachella (when pronouncing, drop the a, and don't think of the double l as a Spanish -ll-; this, by the way, is one of the reasons that I have issues with pronunciation here in Southern CA - some names and words show off their Spanish origin and others are Native American).  So, anyway, Co-che-la!

Before moving to this area, I had no idea that this sex, drug, music, coolness fest in the desert existed. But, from March until the end of April or so, it's one of those buzz words that permeates the Los Angeles 'cultural' scene so I am now all too familiar with the word and the concepts that swirl around the event, despite my complete first-hand ignorance of the festival.  The familiarity that I have unwillingly developed is mainly thanks to local radio stations that plug the groups playing and, unfortunately, due to the fact that there is a mass exodus of my students whose parents call them in "sick", "family visit", "college visit" while I know full-well that they are soaking in the Coachella coolness (and doing who knows whatever else).

While there are some groups that would totally interest me, the idea of a weekend in the desert with thousands of other people holds zero appeal.  So, I'll sacrifice my hipster-ness and embrace the fact that I have LONG since crossed the I'm-too-old-to-go-to-a-music-festival threshold.  Don't get me wrong, if someone gave me free tickets, an awesome place to stay, and assurance that I wouldn't have to deal with any of the crowds, then sure I'd go see the Black Keyes or the Shins or Snoop Dog or Feed Me (yeah, the last one - maybe a DJ?).  Since that is not happening, there is no way that I'm going with a dozen of my closest friends who then invite a dozen of their closest friends.  Then we all stay in a small condo and spend the entire weekend drinking, smoking, hanging out, not showering, and generally being cool.

Sounds awesome, I know!
While I'm not about to list a bazillion things, I will say that I am so happy that I'm able to spend my "Coachella" weekends in other ways.  For instance:
- Eating good Mexican food (last weekend AND tonight) and not scrounging around for food
- Catching up with old friends (and remembering what we all discussed)
- Sweating for a few hours in the am on the bicycle rather than sweating while being packed in a space with a bunch of people
- Sleeping in a comfortable bed and not on the floor
- Sharing a room only with a significant other and two dogs (so, not listening to anyone else snore, except for Gus)
- Not having to decide what my 'wardrobe' will be as I deal with extreme weather (crazy freak winter storm last weekend and heat this weekend; okay, last weekend, I had my own wardrobe crisis for the duathlon, but we worked it out)
- Unwinding from the week with post-run basil gimlet, an easy dinner and a somewhat disappointing movie ("The Descendants" which reminded me a bit of a Lifetime movie; definitely NOT reminiscent of the dark bite of "Election" or "Sideways")
- Afternoon naps in the comfort of my own home because of a long bike ride, not because I'm actually passed out.
- Going to sleep by 9:00 pm or earlier and waking up refreshed!

Obviously I am old, but there are some really wonderful aspects to the "I'm too old to be cool anymore" philosophy, and one is that I don't have to go music festivals anymore.  Not that I was ever an avid music-fest attendee, but I do remember being an anxious 20-something and feeling that I *should* enjoy these sorts of activities, goddamnit!  There are plenty of other activities in which I no longer have to participate or fein interest, now that I'm past any possible age of coolness, but the musical festival might be at the top of the list!

The irony of all of this is that in exactly two weeks I will be heading to Wildflower which is, in a sense, a bit of a crazy festival that mixes music with extreme athleticism (for some people).  Yes, it is the "Woodstock of triathlons".  I will, however, unleash my inner 60-year-old who is not a hippie, enjoying dinner out in Paso Robles on Saturday night, as I go to bed early, sleep in a somewhat comfortable motel bed, and then, if all goes as planned, do this swim, bike, run thing on Sunday.

Definitely more fun than Coachella.

Year of the bike!

Two things before I begin to flesh out this idea.  First of all, I know that 2012 is actually the "Year of the Dragon".  Following the rabbit (2011), it sounds pretty ferocious!  I suppose that powerful would describe it more accurately.  Secondly, I had already framed this year in such a way well before I saw the Specialized bike on Friday night.

Now, I do not by any means consider myself to be a "biker chick".  I bought my lovely Fuji -  lavender with floral details- a few years ago.  At that point, I thought that running would be a taboo activity for the rest of my life, and I wanted to find another activity that would allow me to push myself physically.  Cycling or biking did not, however, immediately WOW me.  In fact, I felt like a nervous wreck every time I went out on the bike, sure that I would fall and be subsequently run over.  And I did fall - a lot.  It took me a very long time to master clipping in and out.  Fortunately, a car never hit me and the only thing that suffered great damage was my ego.  By the end of the summer, I felt a bit more comfortable on the bike, but I couldn't say that I had developed much of a skill set.  The following year, biking 'took' a bit more.  I went to a clinic in San Francisco and learned how to climb and descend correctly, and it also helped my confidence on the bike.  It wasn't until last year, however, that I actually started to log in regular weekly miles and put time into spinning classes to build strength.  Training for Wildflower served as the main impetus to spend time in the saddle, but as I put in more miles and grew accustomed to shifting the gears and my weight, learned when to push and when to hold back, I found that I actually enjoyed the experience.  I never thought I would get to that point, so I was happy to call that success!  Additionally, I managed to mount and dismount properly during the two tris in which I participated and didn't do anything too rookie-ish.  Again, that was success to me!
All this aside, maybe the best part about the bike is for me is that Michael and I can share experiences together. Last year, we started to explore more local routes, and we also headed south and west and tootled along the coast on our bikes, taking in some wonderful scenery on PCH.  We also traveled to Colorado with the bikes strapped to the top.  In Boulder, we were able to appreciate the roads for their bike-friendly nature (huge shoulders!), and from Frisco, CO, we climbed up to Vail pass to enjoy the sweeping views that it afforded us.

Now that I finally feel competent on the bike, I'd like to push myself on it.  Yes, I'll continue to ride just to log in miles and to ride further (I'm a total weenie on the mileage front), but I'd also like to focus on strength and speed this year.  More importantly, I would like to ride with friends or a random group.  I don't mind riding solo or as a couple, but I know that riding with a group would help me improve - I would have to push myself a bit more.  While it might feel like I'm just beginning again and my ego will suffer as I huff and puff and barely keep pace, I know that it would be a great challenge physically and also in a more general sense since I would have to agree to ride with people.  And then talk to them before, after and during the ride.  Ack!

So, that is the focus for the year.  Which is why I am happy to say that I have already been in the saddle a whopping two times this year!  Once last Saturday and once yesterday.  Yes, I'm lame but I'll take that as a successful step.  I think that it was the end of January before I got out on the bike last year!  Last Saturday's ride was a good "get back in the saddle" experience, and yesterday?!  Well, I now regret not going further, but I realized that a Saturday when everyone else is inside watching football is the PERFECT moment to go for a nice, relaxed ride.  The weather was great, there were no cars out, and it was a lovely experience overall.
I'm now hoping to have many more of them this year!

Especially if I get a new bike.
(Thou shalt not covet, thou shalt not covet, thou shalt not covet....)

My First Olympic Tri!

Shew! It's been a busy week - welcome to May! Welcoming in the month with my first triathlon was a momentous way to mark it. By now, of course, the euphoria has worn off, but it did last for a good 36 hours.

Back to race day - Sunday. We woke up pretty early (5:30) and set out around 6:15 or so, without coffee! When we arrived in Paso Robles, around 7:00, we searched for a Starbucks. It wasn't my first preference for a coffee stop, but we decided that it was better than nothing. So, coffee in hand, we pushed on and arrived at Lake San Antonio around 8:00. We were far from being the first people there! Lines of parked cars had already formed, and we joined up. Before dealing with my gear, we (or I) cooked our breakfast - a fail-proof meal of oatmeal. At least we could say that we used some of our camping gear.

Around 8:00 am, I lined up all of my gear and made sure that I had everything to take to the transition area. It was a long-ish walk down the hill - about a mile. Most people were biking it, but since my cycling skills still suck (in my opinion), we walked the bike and all of my other gear down. I had images dancing through my mind of crashing on the way down to the transition area, and I wanted to avoid that situation if at all possible. Once we arrived at the transition area, I was on my own - Michael couldn't enter and help me out in any way, shape or form.

I felt SO intimidated when I walked through the aisles and aisles of bike racks. Once I found my number and reserved spot, I realized that someone had put all of her stuff where mine rightfully belonged. Oh well! I managed as best I could - racked the bike (the wrong way first, and then I corrected it), put my gear out. Then, a volunteer 'marked me' - wrote #7148 all over my arms and legs, in addition to a nice big 39 on my right calf. Am I really that old?! At that point, it was 9:30 and the race had begun! For the more competitive athletes, that was.

I watched some of the race starts with Michael - here is a fun photo of the starting line:

My start wasn't until 10:30, so I had plenty of time to stretch and relax, and I even had my leg taped for free! I felt kind of cool and almost like a bad-ass with the kinesio tape in place! By 10:00, I decided that I needed to head back to the transition area and get serious about gearing up. I put on my wetsuit and headed out to wait for my start. I found Michael before the start, and he gave me some of his sports drink.

I don't look as nervous as I feel here! Actually, I think that I was just ready to start!

Around 10:25, the group ahead of me started (Women, 34-39, Group A - I was in Group B), and we got to dive into the lake to practice a quick swim before our 10:30 start time. I swam out and the water felt cold but good! I stuck my face in the water and swam around 25-50 yards before turning back. I was ready! When they counted us down, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, I didn't make a power move into the lake, but I did not hang back and linger either. Before I knew it, I was in the water, jostling around with other people for about the first 100 yards until we spread out. Although it was a bit of a rough beginning, bodies hitting bodies, no one kicked me in the face, and I soon felt comfortable in the water, breathing pretty easily. I even passed a few people! After 3 right turns, I turned left and headed to land, knowing that 1500 meters was coming up soon. Once my feet hit the surface, I stood up and kind of ran/waddled out of the water and up the hill to the transition area.

After a VERY slow transition, I ran my bike to the "Mount Line" and rather ungracefully hopped on it, ready to begin the long climb up "Lynch Hill", ascending 400 feet or so within the first mile. I was nervous about the hills on the course, and they basically were relentless - one after another. For the first time EVER, I found myself thankful for all of the hills around where I live because they definitely prepared me for the sometimes rolling, sometimes steep hills of the Wildflower course. There were tons of climbs - and descents! Despite the difficulty at times, it was a beautiful area, and once we turned onto the main road, I actually decided that I was going to enjoy the ride. So, it wasn't the fastest ride, but I wasn't the slowest one out there.

It was a straight out-and-back, nice and easy, in terms of the course lay-out. Michael caught me on the final downhill, headed back to the transition zone and I gave him the hand:

Here is a lay-out of the course - see, wicked hills:

Once I dismounted and walked/ran the bike to my area, I racked the bike, changed socks and shoes, put on more sunscreen (I think that took two minutes) and soon I was literally off and running. Again, more hills, almost a constant uphill grade until the final mile. Ironically, because I hadn't run much AT ALL for my training, that was my best leg. I felt fan-fing-tastic for the run, which was a loop through mixed trails and roads, and I hauled on it. In fact, when I hit the 5 mile mark, I decided to push my pace up a notch more, and a spectator cautioned me "Leave some for the finish line!". Not to worry, there was plenty there!

Michael, again, strategically placed himself and managed to take a picture of me with a huge grin. At that point, I was on the downhill and had less than a mile to go - why not smile?!

I was probably half a mile to the finish line, maybe less, when I rounded a bend and had a full view of the lake. I've never had this experience in a race, but I started to cry. Knowing that I had done it, despite all of the frustrations and the really DOWN moments that I experienced in training, it suddenly hit me, and I became so emotional that I couldn't help crying. It totally took me by surprise because I am not an overly emotional person by nature, but I can't even describe how HUGE it felt to me to finish the race.

I had a strong run across the finish line, and I honestly can't remember the last time I was so euphoric. Maybe my wedding?!

I was so excited and, as I said, pretty emotional after the race. Michael supported me in such an amazing way over the past few months and on race day. I do feel like giving an Oscar speech and saying, "I couldn't have done it without you". Same for my friend Katie who gave me gear, packing lists and tons of advice.

Once the race was over, I felt exhausted and deliriously happy, and I was also suddenly sad that it was all over. So strange, I know! I also had a total pang, knowing that even if I sign up for the Wildflower next year, it won't be new to me. I didn't feel a huge sense of loss, but a small one, knowing that the rawness of the experience was/is so fleeting.

Obviously there is no regret - just a twinge of something that isn't sadness but something else. It's hard to describe.

Finally something more concrete, my splits:

Swim - 33:58

Bike - 1:51:29 (super slow, but I did stop and probably lost 2 minutes!)

Run - 54:56 (not too terribly bad for a hilly course after a swim and a bike, in the heat of the day!)

My transition times - TOTALLY sucked! I do blame the fact that I lathered up with sunscreen after the swim and the bike. The bonus to that was that I did not suffer from a sunburn anywhere! I suppose that I can sacrifice a slower transition time for that.

One final note - I really loved the experience of the tri. I am not sure if it was this tri in particular that made it such a magical, wonderful experience - a fun getaway for Michael and me, lots of great energy and major support from friends and even people I didn't know (the spectators were amazing!). I don't want to make triathlons a "hobby" because it is a very, very, very expensive one, but I *have* already signed up for my next race! Santa Barbara, here I come!

Central Coast Highlights

So, before discussing Saturday's excursion, I must add a few pictures from Friday.

Here I am, about to leave our lovely little corner of the world, headed off with the bike strapped in and ready to roll!

We failed to document the pathetic-looking tent, but check out my big grin in the Motel 6, showing off my water bottles! It was so nice to not have to schlep to and from a bathroom or water faucet! Cheers to that! And there's a bed in the room?! Total luxury!

After a restless night's sleep on my end but still better than being cold in a tent, we woke up at a decent hour and headed out for coffee and adventure. We enjoyed our coffee while taking a walk on the beach, and then we returned to the motel where we got ready for the day. I ended up changing into biking gear and gave Michael a "go-bag" for me with clothes into which I could change. Then, I set off for a nice bike ride from San Luis Obispo to the coast. I hadn't been on my bike since my flat tire and a tune-up following that, and it felt great! Shifting was so much easier, and it just seemed to be a cleaner and tighter ride. I did not push myself very hard, but I enjoyed moving around my legs. Plus, the CA Central Coast offers a great landscape for cycling - nice rolling hills, farm land, light traffic. It was great!

After a 40-minute ride or so, I met up with Michael who was waiting for me. At/In the car, I changed out of my cycling clothes, and we were ready for our day's adventure! We first stopped at Morro Bay, just north of where we were. We took a nice walk along the bay, saw some people kayaking and enjoyed the scenery.

That was pretty much the rest of our day too!

Michael likes to taunt and torment seagulls. This one willingly posed for a picture or two:

The major surprise upon which we stumbled was just north of the Hearst Castle at Piedras Blancas Beach. There was a sign posted that read "Elephant Seals". So, we decided - why not stop?! What else do we have to do today? And we thought that it might be cool to see an elephant seal or two. So, we parked and walked to the elephant seal viewing area, and what a surprise! There were TONS of them all along the beach, sunning themselves, napping, getting in and out of the water. Some even talked to each other, seemingly. I felt that I could watch them all day.!

Obviously I was pretty psyched about them.

Someone told us that all of the seals there were juvenile males, weighing up to 2,000 pounds. The bulls - or adult males - generally weigh around 4,000 pounds. The two guys below are practicing their 'battles' to establish dominance. Just like men everywhere...

After a considerable amount of oohing and aahing on our part, we begrudgingly left the area, heading east to Lake San Antonio. The drive took over an hour, but it wasn't a bad jaunt, lots of rolling hills that are still green! When we finally arrived at the park, it was show time! Sort of. I had some business to attend to - pick up my race packet and also attend a pre-race clinic. We didn't take photos of the park, and I fear that my words cannot fully describe how many people there were - coming in, leaving, some cyclists finishing up their leg of the Long Course which was Saturday, tons of people still running their final leg, and plenty of spectators just hanging out and cheering for the athletes.

We parked the car and walked down the hill to the "Exposition" area - that was where all the fun happens: food and drink vendors, lots of outdoor gear, live music, people hanging out after their race, wandering around with medals and gear and family and friends hugging them. I bought a cap/hat (see below!) which I officially love, picked up my race packet with all of my different numbers and bibs and swim cap, and then I attended the pre-race clinic. That was a HUGE help because not only did the guy running it talk about rules and regulations, he also gave us tips for the race, telling us what time to arrive, more or less, and then he walked us through the course, describing each leg.

Some of his information was basic but a good reminder. For instance - the bicycling helmet MUST be strapped on before leaving the transition area. Or, for the swim, put the goggles on first and then the swim cap so that you don't lose the goggles if someone hits you. All good stuff for me to hear.

(Here I am with my new spangled hat; the transition area is behind me - rows and rows of equipment!)

After the clinic, I actually felt really confident that I would be able to finish Sunday's race, despite his comment about first time-tri people who were doing Wildflower as their FIRST ever tri. "Brave souls" he said, which I decided to shrug off and focus on dinner, which we ate back in San Luis Obispo. At that point, it was fairly late, we were tired and ready for bed! Before crashing for the evening, we packed up everything and I also prepped my gear bag for Sunday, checking and double checking socks, shoes, energy stuff (is it food?), water bottles, camel back, and more. Then, I popped a Tylenol PM and managed to get some shut-eye before the big day!

When things fortuitously don't go as planned...

First things first: I finished my first-ever tri!

Race and weekend recap to come.

Second thing: I open up my web browser today and see that Bin Laden is dead. Crazy!

But to pick up where I left off, the whole camping and competing thing. Thanks to a friend who did the Wildflower a few years ago (twice - she's a beast!), I had several packing lists and kept checking them and crossing off items that we had and were ready to go. One significant item, of course, is a tent, and we possess not one, not even two but THREE tents. Mind you, we really only make good use of one, our backpacking/hiking tent.

For this trip, however, we took our car camping tent which is a Coleman, not great but works fine. The last time we used it, I confess, was two summers ago when we road tripped with our dogs and they slept in the tent with us (they were usually drugged on Benadryl while we stuck to beer as our drug of choice).

We left Friday afternoon, as soon as I could possibly walk from school to home, change and finish the final packing stuff. The trip up was easy - except for the many bathroom stops because I was trying to stay really hydrated, so that meant a lot of peeing! We arrived at Lake San Antonio, a state park, around 7:00. It was a ZOO! I have never seen camping like this. As we drove around the camping area, I realized why this was called the "Woodstock of Triathlons". Cars were parked in wherever they could go and then tents were set up all over the place. Michael said that it looked like a triathlete refugee camp. I realize that may be a somewhat offensive comment, but it seemed very apt. It was so crazy!

We finally found a place and started to unpack. First things first: the tent! We got it out and started to set it up, and then scratched our heads' many times. We seemed to be short at least one set of significant poles, maybe even two. We decided "What the hell", we'd just make do with a lopsided structured. And then we looked for the top of the tent, a VERY important component because the temperatures were already dropping and it was chilly. We looked in the car, around the tent stuff, UNDER the tent that we had tried to set up. Nope, nothing.

Apparently, we left the top of the tent, along with the other sets of poles, at home. The first sentiment that hit was embarrassment - I couldn't *believe* that we had made such a ROOKIE error!

We looked at each other, each of us contemplating our options, and then we seemed to both agree - head back into town and look for a motel. Once we arrived in Paso Robles and had cellphone service, I started calling around. I knew that there would be nothing available in Paso, but finally called further south, in San Luis Obispo, and a luxurious Motel 6 had a room for both nights - Friday and Saturday.

We immediately made a reservation, and then we headed to Artisan, the restaurant where we ate with my parents at the end of March. There, we ended up having a glass of wine and sharing a cheese plate before we headed to SLO (as it's known) and crashing for the night.

Even though we were at a dumpy little Motel 6, we both agreed that we were SO happy that we had forgotten half the tent. So much for being hard-core!

Countdown to the big "W"!

So, the BIG DAY is coming up! No, not the royal wedding - I'm already sick of hearing about that!

No, the BIG W would be the 2011 Wildflower Triathlon - also know as the Woodstock of Triathlons. I did not coin the phrase, but it makes me feel like I'll be transported into another time and space.

That feeling seems apt since I'm getting nervous and very excited with the anticipation - kind of like a virgin bride. In keeping with the virginity metaphor, I *am* a triathlon virgin, so this is kind of a big deal for me. In addition to dealing with all of the gear for the triathlon, it's a 'destination' event, so I have to pack for a few days. PLUS, I have to pack for camping which means more shit.

Yes, I mentioned camping.

That is the "Woodstock" quality of this triathlon - it's a big two-day camping and competing fest. So, in addition to the one-page list of athletic gear and provisions, I have to add another page-long list of camping gear and remember things like headlamps, matches and sleeping bags along with camelback, towel, wetsuit and tons of other shit.

I think that I'm ready - I've had several friends give me great pep talks, mainly by talking about how AWESOME the experience is going to be for me. I also had a great confidence booster this weekend. After a so-so trial swim at the end of March, I vowed that I would try another swim before the race. So, I found a local open-water swimming "Meet Up" and joined a random group of people for a swim on Sunday morning at Seal Beach. The weather was less than idea (60 degrees and rainy), but Michael and I went all the way down there (it's a drive), so I felt obligated to participate.

AND... I actually enjoyed the experience. Surprise, surprise!

There was an instructor or leader who talked us through the process and some people who were WAY experienced, but other people were even greener around the ears than I. So, a mixed group. After an internal pep-talk, I was actually in the first wave of people to head out. Initially, I experienced the same breathing issues. But we did a few trial runs of swimming INTO the ocean and then returning to the shore, and I managed to relax and to control my breathing. We also finished with a swim from one lifeguard station to the next (about half a mile round-trip), and while it wasn't easy, I didn't finish the swim feeling totally wiped out and exhausted. Quite the contrary - I was so psyched that I managed the swim in the ocean and that I had enjoyed it. I almost felt reluctant to return to the shore! It hit me that I could possibly enjoy open water swimming. Maybe it will become a habit?

In the meantime, here is the group - and Michael highlighted my head. Yeah, that's me!

Why a Tri?

So, the 2011 Wildflower Triathlon is JUST over a week away. I kind of want to throw up when I think about it, but that's okay, there's nothing like a nice case of nerves to motivate in one way or another. This will be my first and could possibly be my last triathlon. Not to be negative about it before the race even happens, but injuries have plagued my training. I am officially getting old, and my body likes to remind me of that fact!

However, while I have not enjoyed every moment of the training (like the flat tire yesterday afternoon), it has been a cool experience to FEEL myself gain strength, some power, and maybe a bit of confidence in the water and on the bike. As I consider whether I should continue running in the long term, I do hope to continue to swim and bike, even when I am not training for anything.

As for the question of 'WHY'... Since moving to the west coast years ago, I saw many friends and colleagues compete in triathlons. I experienced varying degrees of fascination and also envy when they recounted their exploits, believing that because of a bum knee I would never be capable of the swim/bike/run experience, never part of that exclusive club. Post-knee surgery, I didn't think "Oh, I now want to compete in a triathlon", but the idea slowly formed as one of those bucket-list items, a life experience that would offer a great mental and physical challenge and an opportunity to suffer plenty and learn something about myself. Oh, I could quell the envy that was directed towards other people and maybe win some bragging rights! So, full of hope and gusto, I signed up for the Wildflower Tri - Olympic Distance - waaaaay back in December.

These days, the bragging rights hope rarely comes into play. At this point in the game, or training, I just hope that I don't lose a tooth when a person kicks me in the face in the swim. I would also REALLY REALLY like to finish the swim, to not have a flat on the bike and to survive the wicked hills that everyone talks about it. If I can complete the run, that will be the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the sundae, the bbq sauce on the meat. I find myself frequently wishing that I had trained better, smarter, harder, but this is where I am now. Also, realistically, I am not sure how I would have trained that much better.

Also, I'm quite certain that I would not have wanted to train that much more. So much for being hard-core! While I've increased strength and endurance (I think and hope) and have enjoyed the challenge of training, I've missed more walks with the dogs than I would have liked, have often left a warm bed and another warm bodyon a weekend morning, and we have yet to enjoy our first spring hike of 2011 because of my egotistical training schedule! I'm splitting hairs here, because I do believe that the pay-off will be - and already has been - worth it.

Still, there will be perks when I back off the swim, bike, run schedule. I might, however, miss my wicked metabolism...

Is it all worth it? Yes, at this point, but we'll see how next weekend goes!

As for this weekend, I do have swim, bike, run on the docket, but a massage is thrown in the mix. I can't wait!

All good things come to an end

I have to figure out what to wear tomorrow since Spring Break is officially over and I need my 'game face' to get through the day! Sometimes, it helps me to look slightly fashionable, but I suspect that even that ruse won't help me much. I will, however, try to remember what a great break it was - not only the trip to Paso Robles, CA but also the days following my parents' visit, days which were blissfully unscheduled and perfect for afternoon naps.

I must finish with my Paso Robles trip report, which I left off Monday evening. So, Tuesday morning...

I woke up on the early side, prodded Michael out of bed, scarfed down a banana and yogurt and then we headed to Lake San Antonio. On a friend's recommendation (this a colleague who has twice competed in and completed the Wildflower Tri and is more or less my personal trainer - she also loaned me the wetsuit), I decided to do an open water practice swim - at the place where I will, maybe, be swimming for the ever-more elusive triathlon. I tried to NOT freak out when I saw that the temperature outside the car was FORTY FREAKIN' TWO DEGREES! I think it budged a degree or two during our ride to the lake, but it was pretty chilly when I stripped down and then geared up in the wetsuit. With zero confidence, I headed into the water (I swear my ass looks huge):

I swam out, maybe 100 yards or so, but realized that my breathing was so screwed up that there was no way that I could do anything resembling an open water swim. So, I turned around and paddled back to the banks of the lake and caught my breath. My dad (who accompanied us) and Michael watched me with concerned amusement as I told them, "I'm okay, I just need to focus and do this again". I still wasn't totally calm, but I felt better about the swim and headed back into the murky, dark water. While the swim was not a total failure, I also cannot call it much of a success. I never did get my breathing down or felt comfortable with my head in the water. Both of these issues are more than slightly problematic for the race. On the other hand, I am glad that I KNOW that they could be issues, and I feel that I will be better prepared in May. Or I hope that I will be!

It wasn't a great swim, obviously, but at the end, I was either tired enough or comfortable to at least focus on my strokes. It is also reassuring to know that I can handle the cold water - the wetsuit definitely works! It is so strange swimming in it, but I suppose the entire experience is quite new for me. Finally, at least I ended with something of a smile - of relief, perhaps, but a smile nonetheless:

And, it *is* a beautiful place to be swimming, so I will try to remember that thought even as I'm struggling through the swim on May 1!