I Did All This, and Saved a Turtle

I am in the middle of a completely bonkers week. In fact, it’s a scheduling trifecta: Uber-busy at school (data! data! must have data!), tons of kid activities (dance, baseball, etc.), and this week I’m at the peak of my training schedule for the triathlon.

Yesterday was the apex of the bonkers week. It started at 6am and didn’t end until 11pm. I woke up, did mom things, went to work, taught first graders stuff, went for a training ride with my teacher friend Rina…

We left directly from school. But where’s the teacher bags??

…got back, snarfed dinner, wiped myself down with a baby wipe, went to The Bot’s dance recital, came home, fell asleep on the couch for an hour, woke up, got my second wind, did 2 loads of laundry, stretched/planked, did some lesson planning (more data!) and fell into bed.

Oh, and I saved a turtle.

Awwwww

It thought I had run over this little guy on the ride. The traffic wasn’t bad so I circled around, breathed a sigh of relief that Marty McFly wasn’t a turtle killer, got off the bike and helped him/her cross the road. I figured with all the things I was doing this day, why not add save a turtle to the list?

I know everyday won’t be this cuckoo, but sometimes I wish a big hand would come pick me up and help me cross the metaphorical road. We all need little help getting to where we’re going. Or at least, shave some time off our journey.

Good night! Zzzzzzzzzzz

It’s a Quads Vs Hammies Smackdown!

Brick. The name of the workout is called “a brick.” It’s a bike ride followed immediately by a run, and is used to simulate a triathlon race day. It’s called a brick because your legs will feel like bricks if you try to run after being on a bike for a while. Bricks are hard.

I thought the brick transition feeling might be a myth, like the 5-second rule, or the injury-free barefoot runner. I thought that maybe, just maybe, it just wouldn’t exist for me, like the way that I never had any wisdom teeth form (srsly, no wisdom teeth). I was so very, very wrong.

Being a runner, it’s my hamstrings (back of the thighs) muscles, or “hammies” that are the main power house muscles. Of course, all the leg muscles work in conjunction, but in running, hammies can either make you go faster or make you miserable. On a bike, it’s the quadriceps (front of the thighs), or “quads” that rule and help you kill the hills. In a brick, it’s hammies vs. quads. One guess as to which one is stronger on me.

There’s a battle brewing in there.

When I go from bike to run on a brick workout, I imagine there’s a conversation going on between my quads and my hammies that goes like this:

Quads: Whew! Those were some hills. I’m on fire!

Hammies: Okay, Quads, we’ll take it from here. Time to run.

Quads: I don’t think so, buddy. We’re still firing.

Hammies: Let it go. We got this. *grunts*

Quads: Sorry, we’ve been in this position for so long I just can’t stop.

Calves: Hey, when’s this workout going to be over?

Quads and Hammies: Shut up, Calves. Go support that weak-ass Achilles Tendon.

Quads: Okay, Hammies, you can take over, but not until she’s done at least a mile. And…

Hammies: Yes?…

Quads: You have to let me be more sore than you tomorrow.

Hammies: Deal. See you on the foam roller.

Quads: What’s a foam roller?

Hammies: Oh, it’s a barrel of fun. You’ll love it! *snickers*

And that, my friends, is what gets me through a Brick. Imagining a smackdown between various body parts. Next week: The imaginary one-act play starring my bladder and my stomach…

Run on, friends!

What’s This Triathlon Thing, Anyway?

I’m doing my first triathlon in 2 weeks. So, what is a triathlon, exactly?

It’s a race in which you swim, then bike, then run. In other words, it’s all sorts of fun and exertion rolled up into one big ball of insanity.  SIGN ME UP.

I’m doing what’s typically the shortest version of a “tri”, called a sprint triathlon, though I there’s usually no sprinting involved, at least not by me. I ain’t no Bolt.  For the sprint distance, I will swim 1/2 mile, then bike about 12 miles, then run 3.1 miles. Notice I am using the future tense here -  I will. I’m psyching myself up while I’m writing this. Mind over matter, people. There are longer races, like an Olympic, Half Ironman, and Ironman distances, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

So, here’s my Triathlon 101 with both what’s supposed to happen, and what I’m afraid will happen to me. I’m getting all my fears out on this post now. If I put ‘em out there, maybe they won’t come true.

Part 1: SWIM

What Should Happen: This race will be in open water at a nearby lake. It will be a beach start, with participants (most donning wetsuits) running into the water, swimming whatever stroke they want (mostly front crawl), going around some buoys, then back up onto the beach. Racers enter in “waves” so that we’re all spread out. We have a timing chip anklet that we wear for the whole race, which records our net time. I think I’m in the last wave (age 40+ women – WOOT for old ladies, folks).

OK, this doesn’t look so scary. OK, yes, it does. (Photo Credit: TriRidgefield)

What I’m Afraid Will Happen: I will swallow water. I will sputter. I will get kicked in the head. My goggles will fog. My wetsuit will chafe in a hideous spot. *sigh* The swim portion is by far the scariest event for me. I’m a decent, if rusty, swimmer, and I paid for a lot of beer textbooks in college by lifeguarding. HOWEVER, swimming in open water with 50+ other swimmers is the biggest mental hurdle of this whole dang race for me. At least I can get it over with early.

Part 2: Transition #1

What Should Happen: I will run out of the water and into the Transition Area, where my bike and other race sundry are parked in a designated spot (no one but racers allowed inside). I will peel off my wetsuit (there’s a “tri kit” – a quick-drying all-purpose outfit underneath), put on socks and shoes, grab my helmet, sunglasses and bike, and jam out into the bike course.

What I’m Afraid Will Happen: I’ll be so thankful the swim is over, I really don’t care how this transition goes. I just can’t forget my helmet, as they won’t let you ride without it.

Part 3: Bike

What Should Happen: I will ride a 12 mile semi-closed course around the northern part of Ridgefield, CT, my hometown. I know the roads well and I’ve been able to train on them. There are some big hills, of course, and one giant curvy downhill. I do love downhills. My husband doesn’t call me “No Brakes Nancy” for nothing.

What I’m Afraid Will Happen: I fear I will further stereotype my gender by being unable to change a flat tire should one happen during the race. I will hit one of the million potholes in the road and fly over the handlebars. I will get my foot stuck in my pedal harness and tip over at a low speed. My zeal for downhills will get me into trouble and I will wipeout. That’s about it. Piece of cake, right?

Part 4: Transition #2

What Should Happen: I will ride back into transition, rack my bike, switch my helmet for my Hard-Work Hat (note how I don’t call it my “lucky” hat), and take off on jelly legs for my favorite portion, the run!

What I’m Afraid Will Happen: This one doesn’t worry me much, as I don’t have bike shoes to change out of  and I can just wear the same ones for the bike and the run. I’m just hoping the jelly-legs that one gets from switching from bike to run will not last long, or make me do a faceplant in front of the spectators.

Part 5: RUN!

What Should Happen: Hopefully, I will run a hilly 5k (3.1 miles) and sail gracefully into the finish line.

What I’m Afraid Will Happen: I’m hoping I don’t run out of steam – at this point I calculate I will have been racing for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, and fueling is tricky (gotta think about that one some more). I don’t want to faceplant, and I’m hoping to keep my eyes open this time for any race photos.

Well, that’s about it. Fears, schmears. I just need to put on some big girls pants and get on with it. It will be amazing, right?

(Update) Volunteering Like a Mother

Last weekend, I ended up in both a police car and on a stranger’s mountain bike at the Run Like a Mother 5k.( Read about it here.) I found a photo of myself at the event courtesy of Karen Rayda Photography – Memories in a Flash:

That’s me doing my best E.T.-bike-rescue-scene impression. I’m also trying not to “ship my pants.”

I’m so happy I have a photo of it for my scrapbook. I can add it to my collection of eyes-shut race photos. Just kidding, momma doesn’t scrapbook. THIS is my scrapbook.

E.T., phone home!

Volunteer Like a Mother or, How to Hang Your Head Out a Moving Police Car Window

Today I had an awesome Mother’s Day: I got to hang out of a window of a moving police car AND I was first in a race! I know that might make your head spin, so lemme ‘splain…

Between the NYC Half, the MORE half, and the upcoming Ridgefield triathlon, I have blown my racing budget for the spring. Not that I really had a budget per se, but those Half-Marathons’ race fees were proportionately larger than most, so I’ve held back with the smaller races this spring. One of my resolutions of 2013 was to volunteer for 2 races. The Run Like a Mother 5k on Mother’s Day seemed like a good fit for my 1st volunteer stint of the year. It was 5 minutes from my house, I had run it last year and was familiar with it, and I had a lot of friends running it that I could cheer on.

I had told the race director, Deb, that I could be there at 6 AM (I know, right?) and assign me to what ever. I was initially assigned to parking, like a parking marshal, telling folks they had to turn around and park elsewhere due to limited parking at the race start area. I guess I have a good sympathetic face because most didn’t seem to mind.

There were 2 races: First a kids’ one mile fun run at 8AM, then the women’s 5k at 8:30AM. At about 7:45, Deb asked me if I knew the course, because the police officer doing the lead car duties (going ahead of the leaders to both show the way and clear the way) needed course guidance. How many times have I thought how fun it would be to sit in one of the lead cars? Like, a zillion! Even though this race was small, I was all over that like a runner in a sneaker shop.

I met Officer Mike, and we climbed into his car. I embarrassed myself by asking him to take a selfie with me.

What a good sport. He’s a runner, too.

He backed into the start chute and we waited for the start. I leaned out the window to take a pic. Look at the those sweet kiddos…

Kids containment courtesy of high school boys.

…them BAM! They started and ZOOM! Off goes Officer Mike. Those kids are fast. It was so fun, watching the race from this rare perspective. Part of the time I’m looking in front of us to make sure we’re headed the right direction, and the other part my head’s hanging out the window looking back to make sure the kids are still behind us (and not catching up to us!). I’m thinking: What strange and wonderful opportunities running has given me ’cause I’m hanging my head out of a moving police vehicle right now. Two kids were neck and neck for most of it, then we crossed the finish line, and they were right behind us.

The women’s run, a 5k, had a crazy amount of loops and turns and crossed through the start area THREE times. Last year when I wanted to do a practice run through the course I wrote the turns on my hand and I ran out of room.

Srsly. This plus HILLS.

My hand was ink-free today, so I was running through the race in my head…then about 10 minutes before the start, Deb ran up to me:

Deb: Can you ride a bike?

Me: Yes.

Deb: And you’re sure you know the course?

Me: Yes. (I start second guessing myself because anytime anyone asks me a question with an Are you sure? attached then of course I start to not be sure.)

Deb: Great! It turns out cars can’t go over the timing mats. Can you lead the race on a bike?

Me: Uh, sure! What bike?

Deb: There’s a bike over by those steps (points). You can use that one.

Me: Okay.

My inner dialogue: Sweet mother of Moses! I’m leading this race?! On a bike! OMG, omg, Oh My God, don’t mess this up, don’t mess this up. Do I really know the course? Whose bike is this? Can I stay ahead of the leaders? Will I get hit by a car? Will I hit a pedestrian? Will I have the energy? Will I look foolish?

And really, folks, isn’t that what many fears are rooted in? Looking foolish? But another biggie on the fear list is disappointing others. That trumps looking foolish. No time to think anymore, the race is starting in a few. I grabbed the bike and helmet and headed over.

The bike was a mountain bike, with the seat about 5 inches too short for me. No time to adjust the seat or check gears but just enough to tuck my shoelaces in and hope my jeans don’t get caught in the chain. National Anthem…sponsor thank yous, the countdown, and GO!

I start pedaling furiously, as I’m in the wrong gear. Oops. I quickly recover and realize that I desperately need a whistle (or a police siren) as there are many folks and spectators in the way leftover from the kids’ race. Busting out The Teacher Voice, I start yelling, “Runners coming through!!” as loud as I could muster. Folks scattered. The leaders and I headed up the first hill and I started thanking the high heavens that I’ve been training on the bike for the past few weeks!

I don’t think adrenaline has coursed through my veins that hard in a long time. I thought my brain was going to explode between scanning ahead for cars, constantly looking backward for runners, communicating on the walkie, remembering the course, yelling at people to move over, and oh, riding a bike…despite the possible brain explosion, IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!

In a calmer moment I managed to snap a photo of the lead runner behind me. I just couldn’t help myself. Don’t try this at home.

We headed up the last big killer hill with one gal solidly in the lead. I am saying my kill the hill mantra BIG TIME as I don’t want the runners to catch me on that hill and turn me into the fool I fear. Turning onto an empty Main Street, with dads and kids waiting anxiously for their runners to come through, was really the kicker (plus it was downhill – phew.) The course turned into Ballard Park and I realized with the roped-off course narrowing that I really didn’t have anywhere to pull off, so I whizzed through the finish line (luckily there was no finish line tape to break – talk about looking foolish) and there you go, I have done my duty. I may not have crossed the finish line running, but I actually giggled to myself in a very juvenile way that hey, I got be first. Hehe.

Another great thing about being “first” was that I got to see many of my friends finish the race. Most of them had thought I was going to be planted on a certain corner as a professional spectator, but of course I wasn’t. Surprise! In the masses I found Mary and her sister, who ran a fabulous race.

One of these things is not like the other…

Later, I found Megan Searfoss, (seriously badass, check her bio here) the founder of the Run Like a Mother races, doing Emcee/Cheering/Organizing duty in the gazebo and she gave me a hug and kind of started apologizing for the last-minute responsibilities…but I was just like, Are you kidding me?…Don’t apologize…

…Just let me do it again next year!

Happy Mother’s Day!

Going Cross Country

Tonight was speed work night for me at the track. I was all ready to go with the agenda in hand, literally:

Yes, that’s FIVE 800 meter repeats. Yeowza.

When I arrived at the track, I discovered that tonight was also a high school boys’ lacrosse game, with my usual entry gate was closed a locked. I figured perhaps they were charging admission to this one. I’m not paying to run unless it’s a race, and I’m certainly not paying to run in front of a bunch of lacrosse dads! I thought to myself.

Doesn’t lacrosse know I need to run??

Then I spotted this sign for the cross-country trail.

The alternative is to bail. I did not shave my legs for nothing.

Lacrosse? Ppfffttt. My sport is your sport’s punishment, ninnies! and off I went down the trail.

The cinders, steep hills, mulch, grass, roots, and errant jaywalking bunnies made for some rebellious achilles tendons. But once I was warmed up, I kind of liked it. I felt a little like Katniss, if Katniss had a mummy tummy. Though if I were really Katniss, the cannon would sound and the hovercraft would be swooping me up by now. Also, I’m out of milk. These are the things that go through my head when I run.

Two loops around the grounds at 1.5 miles each, and dark is setting in. I was ready to call it a night at 3 miles, when I noticed people coming out of the exact fence I was trying to get into. It turns out, there’s a subtle-sneaky (but legit) fence opening around the corner that I’ve never noticed before.

Doi. (Doy?) Doi.

I could’ve run on the track after all. DUH!! It even photo-bombed my picture and I didn’t even notice. Geesh.

The lacrosse game was over, so I ran the last mile on the track, feeling strong but also pretty darn stupid. So much for speed work, folks!

Run Cranky

“Run Happy” is Brooks’ slogan. I’m currently wearing Brooks running shoes (PureFlows, thanks for asking).

I’m not sure it would be a wise business move to change their slogan to “Run Cranky,” but dang if I didn’t have the speediest 5 miler tonight. I had received some news and I was PISSED OFF. Nothing like pure, unadulterated anger to the get the legs pounding faster. I even sought out the steepest, gnarliest hills in my neighborhood and charged up them- I was that riled up.

Cranky pants.

But right on cue, as I finished the run and was walking up my driveway, I felt the release…the whoosh…the fury lifting…and all was (mostly) right with the world.

Have you ever “run cranky?” Did it make you feel better? Worse? Did you injure yourself on that furious run? While I was running I thought perhaps my feet would be irked at me in the morning, but they seemed to have ignored my little tantrum and were just fine.

Running: Cheaper (and more fun) than therapy, I’m tellin’ya.