One Step/Stroke/Revolution at a Time

Delinquent. Again.

2011-08-03T09:35:00.003-05:00

Well, it's been ... ahem. A while.

A lot has happened. I hired a coach. The coach fired me. I quit my job. I got a new one. I had two 1/2 iron races. Both were exceptionally hot. I was undertrained for both. I have one more. I'm hoping it won't be so hot... but I'll still be undertrained. And I'm hoping to catch everyone up on a crazy busy (and fun) summer.

Hope yours has been as good as mine.

-belly.

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T15:18:00.002-05:00

From our family to yours...

Delinquent but pretty. And fun.

2011-04-22T08:37:00.000-05:00

In a month and a half, SJV and I have our first race -- Grand Rapids 1/2 Iron Distance. And I'm soooo behind in the swim fitness it's not even funny. I'm horribly, horribly delinquent. *hang my head* Now, trying to look on the bright side of things, I'm doing great in the bike and the run. Honestly, I am. I'm pretty proud of the consistency, and the intensity. Bravo, self! But... when it comes to the swimming part, I have a tough time ... motivating.

I have a good gym, and it's walking distance. I should be there every other day to swim. Granted, it's a 20 yard pool, which means five laps is 100, which is somewhat annoying. But other than that, it's pretty great.

Still... when it comes right down to it, I'll opt for a trainer ride or a run. It's just ... more convenient, I suppose.

So, I shocked myself the other day when I got up the gumption -- after work, no less -- to go to the gym and get in a 1/2 hour of swimming before a 45 minute run. I thought I'd time myself and see the damage. After all, I don't have a whole heck of a lot of time to amp up distance, so speed will prolly suffer, and it's good to get some idea of where I am so that I can ... ahem ... "adjust" expectations (downward).

I slid into the pool, which was a delightful temperature, pushed off from the wall and thought "extend, slice, extend, slice..." (an old trick that keeps my form relatively good). I just continued on, and on, and on, sliding into the meditative long set mentality.

And I remembered that I actually like that.

I focused on my form; on my arm pulling, on my hand grabbing the water; on turning from the hips and pushing my chest down; on breathing properly... trying to glide through the water without forcing it. It was actually really ... pretty. (Thankfully, for me, "pretty" is *relatively* fast.)

Of course, then I realized that the woman next to me was 'lapping' me, and I got a bit competitive for a moment. But I am proud to say that I stopped myself from following her speed.

I actually ended up doing fairly consistent 200s, and they weren't that far off from where I would want to be on June 5. So, I'm kindof glad that I took that time off from the pool and waited to go back until my experience would be positive and a good reminder that it doesn't all have to be HARD and TOUGH and GUTWRENCHING.

Sometimes, it can be pretty. And fun. Whee!

Get out there and have a good time.

-belly.

Lesson learned.

2011-04-10T09:28:00.003-05:00

Well, it may not look like it from this photo, but spring has finally (FINALLY) sprung! SJV and I have a race (Grand Rapids 1/2 Iron Distance) in less than two months. *Gulp* So we've been trying to get in good, quality trainer workouts during the week, but have been anxiously awaiting a forecast that would let us get in some nice long miles outside.

As proof of what a dork I am (and how fantastic SJV is) I was ecstatic when SJV brought home booties for my bike shoes. Fantastic present, Sugar! So, armed with our booties, our footsies would be protected from the wind and we could go on rides in less than perfect weather. Game ON!

Last weekend the weather was supposed to get up to the mid-50s, so we waited to start out to the suburbs, hoping to get out on the road once it was a bit warmer. I had a bowl of cereal before we left, got all my gear together, and we headed out. This was the first ride of the season, so I was a bit out of practice - there's a lot to take, and a lot to remember, so we took our time. I was so excited! Our first outdoor ride of the season, as a married couple, with my new powermeter... I had ants in my pants and was literally jumping around as we got ready.

We got out to our starting point and began putting together nutrition, etc....

About that time, I began to feel ... hungry. Now, normally not a big deal. But I had my heart set on getting out on this ride, like, IMMEDIATELY -- so I dismissed it. I had already had some cereal (about two hours before) so that should be enough, I figured. I also didn't have a whole ton of nutrition with me. I had bottles and scoops of nutrition (EFS, in case anyone's wondering, because Belly *perspires* a lot and needs that extra sodium). But I had nothing solid. Anyhoo, I felt like this:

This, dear readers, is called foreshadowing. (Cue the dark music!)

We started out, and it was indeed cold. It was also amazingly windy. The wind seemed to come from one direction, and then swirl around and come from the other side.

I was glad to have a hood on, and dressed well, but ... my power wasn't even close to feeling *right.* I was also paying too much attention to my new powermeter. And I was Mrs. Cranky-Pants. For real. We planned on doing 30 miles, but about 10 in SJV looked at me and said ..."Maybe we should call it, Sugar." Although inside I was nodding my head, outside I had a bit of a temper tantrum. "No!" I said defiantly. "We can do this! And we said we were going to do 30..." But SJV -- as gently as he could -- suggested that riding in this wind was harder than a normal ride (which was true) and that we were beating ourselves up... and it was early in the season... this wasn't meant to be a "killer" workout...

Finally I relented, internally relieved that we were going back. But when we got back to the car (after 10 more miles of unrelenting wind) I got out my pity-pot and sat right down in it. I looked at my power data from the new powermeter and was totally, 100% dejected. "No!" I said, looking with disbelief. "I am so weak! What have I been doing? Oh my god!" My head started spinning...

SJV just sat, knowing by now what low blood sugar looks like and sounds like from little Belly. He said he wished I wouldn't be so hard on myself, and that we really did have a good ride. I listened in silence. So we went to Chipotle before heading back ot the city. After we had some Chipotle (which I said I "didn't deserve" before scarfing it down so fast I'm surprised I could even breathe between bites) I began to list off all of the good things from the ride. I felt better on the bike, my pedal stroke had improved, the hills felt much easier... I went off with a smile, and determination that this power meter reading couldn't have been a reflection of me at my best. In other words, I went through a TOTAL 180.

When, oh when, will I learn? Seriously. I know better than to go out on a ride hungry. (And yes, I know that knowledge is only part of it, but still. Sheesh!)

Fast forward to yesterday. Warmer day, and less wind. More importantly, I had a peanut butter sandwich before leaving the house. We got out on that ride, and I was Mrs. PermaSmile. I was smiling and waving at cars going by, pointing out cows and horses, laughing up hills, hooting and hollering down them. I was keeping up with SJV (mostly). And, even more tellingly, when we got to the turn where if we go right we do 30 and if we go left we do 40, we looked at each other and turned left. We felt great, and strong, the entire ride. (And, just in case anyone's wondering, 40 would actually have been the mileage for our "plan" and we are totally trained and ready for that distance.)

I got back to the car and stretched well, while laughing with SJV. And then I checked my power, which I thought would be better than last week.

My average was 25 watts higher. On a ride that was 1.5 hours longer. Average speed was just as high as the best ride last year.

Best of all, I had a great time.

Lesson learned.

Parenting

2011-04-09T08:20:00.007-05:00

It's tough being a stepmom.

Being awoken two or three times per night with the cries of little ones... Dealing with the inevitable fights and territorial issues of blended families... Sometimes I feel like I can't even take a shower in peace anymore. With three little ones, we're pulled in three different directions sometimes. Plus, whenever I'm on the trainer I'm afraid one of them will get their tail stuck in my spokes...

Wait, a second, you say. Tails? Yes! Tails!

Idgy the Cat now has two 17-year od siamese brothers. Meet Romeo and Cosmo, the newest additions to our fuzzy version of the Brady Bunch.

We have Cosmo (aka Chocolate Coz, choco-taco, chocolate kitty, coco kitty) a gorgeous chocolate point baby who doesn't like being held but loves attention, and needs subcutaneous fluids three times per week. He has the cry of a newborn child, and doesn't hesitate to use it at about 3:00 a.m. if he's feeling lonely.

Romeo, (aka baby blue, peanut, blue point rome, rome, cricket, snaggle-tooth) is a blue-point baby with crazy flexibility,

only one incisor tooth (he lost the other in a tragic string toy incident), a constant stuffy nose (allergies?) and a perennial bit of breakfast or dinner stuck to his chin. Romeo takes blood pressure medicine and lists his favorite activities as walking underfoot, sneezing on your face, and nuzzling momma and pappa's chins as they sleep. He's what I would call a "starter cat" because he's just ... easy. He's a walking bit of love.

Who could resist that face?

And then we have Idgy the Cat (aka baby-girl, baby-baaaaby-girl, chub-chub, puffin, muffin, puff-n-stuff),

who is now on prozac to help her deal with the boys and the resultant decrease in her "personal space."
Gosh she's a cutie.

It's been hard on the babies.
(Having them all on the couch was such a momentous occasion that we had to document it. Note that Coz and Rome are watching Idgy with some trepidation here.)

Idgy grew up on the Mean Streets of Macon Georgia. She was a 6-month-old stray when I got her. She's got claws and she's not afraid to use them. Coz and Rome, on the other hand, grew up with a silver spoon and a constant supply of food and attention. They have no claws, and no need for them.

It's a clash of cultures. It's an adjustment. It takes time. We're trying to be patient.

But because it's been hard on the babies, it's been hard on us. Every day someone's coughed up a hairball, puked, had an "accident" or doesn't want to take their medicine... someone's fighting, or fussing, or crying. This week Cosmo has had issues sleeping, which means that SJV gets up in the middle of the night to soothe him; his training this week has suffered, as has mine. (Though his much more than mine.) I maintain that three cats should equate to one human newborn. Seriously. I'm left with befuddlement as to how new parents (of humans) can get anything -- let alone training -- done. Every day we have a different assessment of whether we want to have an actual baby of our own. The answer changes. Frequently.

So hats off to the training moms and dads of the world. You SO deserve it. Of course, even though these guys all try our patience daily, we wouldn't have it any other way. They're our babies, after all.

Off we go for a nice long ride... away from the kiddos for just a little bit. Everyone deserves a break, right?

Belly.

Weekend Away...

2011-03-31T06:56:00.006-05:00

Last weekend, SJV and I went to St. Joseph, MI - which is also where we got married, and where we have raced Steelhead, and where we love to train. In general, we *heart* Michigan. We love the commercials, we love the lake, we love the woods... Love! So, because Saturday was our six month wedding anniversary (which falls conveniently close to our three year dating anniversary) we celebrated by going up north and by eating everything we never let ourselves eat. With WILD abandon. And true regret. We had veggie burgers and fries, pizza, ice cream, wine - you name it, we ate it! I, of course, am now paying the price.

But I digress.

We also went out and visited a few wineriesaround St. Joe. In the offseason, we've gotten interested in wine, so it seemed like the perfect little afternoon thing to do. We had a lovely time trying the wines...

And just generally hanging out.

On the way, SJV saw the vineyards and had an idea. "Photo shoot!" He said, already reaching back for the new fancy cam. I have created a monster...

Now, we were very respectful of the vines - I'm from Nebraska, after all. But we had a total blast "posing" like models and making funny faces. Here's me in eagle pose...

And here's SJV posing, very seriously, amongst the vines. What emotion! You can see the pain in those eyes...

And here's me posing per my photographer's suggestion, in the middle of the street. Don't I look tough? ;)

We got back to the hotel, and decided to go down to have pizza at Silver Beach Pizza (which has beer glasses called "Schooners" that are the size of your head). We had one of our rehearsal dinners there, and the Amtrak runs right past it. I was excited that the train was stopped right next to our table...

And SJV was hungry but adorable...

After dinner we went to South Bend Chocolate Company, where a father/daughter band was playing. I had totally forgettable ice cream (we think it might just be the off-season and they don't "circulate" the ice cream as often... We'll see) but we did enjoy the show.

Oddly, I have no photos of us on our 7 mile run along the Steelhead course the next day... But we stopped at the beach where we got married and had a very schmoopy conversation about our luck at finding one another and what we were thinking the last time we were in that same spot.

And then we continued our run, doing what it is that we do. Gosh I'm a lucky girl...

All in all, a fabulous weekend!

Happy Anniversary!

2011-03-29T13:55:00.006-05:00

Three years ago today, SJV and I went to the packet pickup for the Shamrock Shuffle 8k. It was our first "date," although neither of us knew whether to call it a date or not at the time. I remember being nervous, and thinking that was silly - because this guy was just taking me to a packet pickup, right? Well, sortof... it was the longest and most wonderful packet pickup ever. We got our race bibs, then scoured the expo, talking and walking slowly to extend the time. We went to lunch. And ate slowly, and ordered too much to extend the time. And we talked. Then after lunch, we walked around. Slowly. And we talked some more. Then we had ice cream. More talking and moseying around. By then it was time for dinner. Off to a wine bar (the night before a race! UNHEARD OF!) for more talking, some wine-sipping.... All in all, it was 12 hours of first-date-bliss.

And now here we are. Three years later, still running side-by-side (but now also biking and swimming), still eating ice-cream too often, and still stretching out every delicious minute of time together. Happy three-year dating anniversary, Sugar!

Love, Belly.

Extremely Late Spectator's Report - IMAZ 2009

2011-03-29T07:11:00.009-05:00

Yes, that's right. 2009. Eeegads I'm a procrastinator.

Spectating is a bit of a sport (and an art) as I learned while watching Ironman Arizona in 2009. Some thoughts, then a great story and some cool photos. The story is most excellent, if I do say so.

First: Arizona can be COLD in the pre-dawn hours. Really, really cold. Two shirts, two jackets, jeans and knee-high compression socks (I know, I know, I'm a dork), hat and gloves don't do enough to keep you toasty while waiting for your Sugar to start his (or her) race.

Second: Ironman racers are super cool people, full stop. I spent all day yelling and screaming for people that I didn't know -- and all day I heard their messages of thanks (sometimes spoken, other times not -- particularly late in the race). If you haven't gone to spectate and Ironman, you really should -- it was eye-opening for me, and I felt like I could really help people have a better moment by encouraging them.

Third: Ironman AZ is great for spectators on the bike and the run. I lost SJV before the swim (so I never got to see him get in) but I was able to see him go into T1, come out of T1, during each of the three loops on the bike both coming and going (total of 6), during each loop on the run both coming and going (total of 6) and the finish. Not bad! I had good positioning, but the key was to find a good spot and stay put.

And now, the story.

*Ahem.* As I mentioned above, I lost John before the swim. *Sigh* So there I was, all alone, freezing my tail end off, looking around in the dark, trying to figure out what to do with this time before the race. I saw a semi-celebrity (Tara from the Biggest Loser), so I sculked around "celebrity watching" for a bit until I decided that was boring (and a bit silly), and then shuffled off to see if I could get a good spot to watch the swim. Tempe Town Lake has a nice path that you can walk along, and I started walking in the direction the swim would go, thinking I would find a break in the wall of people (great spectating minds think alike, obviously) and stop there to watch. It was packed pretty tight, so even after the gun went off, I kept walking down the shore.

The sun was coming up now, and the crowds were thinning a bit. Right then I saw a floating dock with about 20 people on it. I'm not normally a pushy type. Really, I'm not. But I'm (relatively) small, and there was plenty of room, so I just jumped down there and sortof nosed my way to the edge. Very politely, of course. Only one elbow was used... (I kid! I kid!)

Just then the swarm of swimmers was starting to come up and pass the dock, and a fellow swam to the side of the dock and frantically started pulling off his three swimcaps and neoprene cap (did I say that the water was 61 degrees?). He was obivously overheating and panicking, and there was a flurry of activity on the dock. One guy crouches down next to Unfortunate Panicky And Hot Swimmer and tries to help him put his official swimcap back on, but then doesn't for some reason (I don't truly recognize until later that the crouching guy only has one arm) and asks for help. Another woman comes forward, puts on the swimcap, and Unfortunate Panicky And Hot Swimmer swims off. We all, having witnessed and taken part in said panic, stand together, shaking our heads and saying "oooh - he's panicking. Not good." "Yea. That water's awful cold. Super murky, too. Smell that stench when they swim through? Ugh." "Tough swim, yeah?" And that's when I hear it.

The telltale Aussie accent.

I turned to my right. And. Standing. Right. Next. To. Me. Was. MACCA! OHMYGOD!

"Macca!!" I blurted, hands now covering my mouth, eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Yeah!" Big grin from Macca. I fumbled for my camera and asked for a photo, which he kindly obliged.

I turned to see that none of the other people on the dock seemed to recognize that they were standing feet from an honest to goodness celebrity! (He had not yet made the Wheaties box, but he was still a champion!) Good grief.

As it turns out, I had an audience with not one - but TWO celebrities. The man with one arm goes by One Arm Willie (photo of Willie and I up top) - a paraolympian and amazing triathlete, who has bested Macca at Kona (which he told me in a hushed voice after saying "I should never say this out loud, but..."). He has a great gift for a story, and an infectious sense of fun. Plus, he's tough as nails, which I learned in our HALF HOUR of chatting! That's right! I got to chit chat with two triathlon greats for a good half hour. Amazing.

We talked about races, and places, and swim times, and Rudy, and prosthetic limbs, and challenged athletes, and Ironman and relationships (and how great my Sugar is at balancing the two) and One Arm Willie's wife (who is a doctor and was apparently in a bad mood for most of her residency), and about a med student friend of mine who hates med school, and about all the things you could imagine yourself talking about with a few cool people with similar interests and lifestyles. Soon after we started talking, Macca was recognized as Macca, and so he was pulled away to take photos and exchange pleasantries. But I continued chatting with One Arm Willie. And it was amazing. I wish I could have tape recorded it. Of course, the only thing that topped it was cheering SJV in that night.

Ultimately One Arm Willie and Macca had to leave and take their triathlon spectating somewhere else. So I was left on the floating dock by myself for a spell before heading out to find SJV at T1, basking in the fact that I had just hung out with some really amazing folks. It solidified my belief that the people that participate in this sport - present company entirely included - are pretty cool folks, and are just the kind of folks I want to surround myself with.

Beginning.

2011-03-26T17:57:00.004-05:00

It's easy to forget how hard it was to start being active. As an ... *ahem* ... "adult-onset-athlete" myself, I can relate... but I still forget.

I was reminded of this the other night when I attended a gala for the Chicago Center for Conflict Resolution -- cool mediators getting together and knocking back a few. Anyhoo... I was chatting with a few of the ladies about my "crazy" race schedule (which is decidedly normal for most endurance athletes) when two of them told me in fast-paced-high-pitched-oh-my-god-i-can't-wait-to-tell-you voices that they had just signed up for 8ks and they were getting ever faster -- which they said I had something to do with. See, they had started a running program a few months ago, and were running fairly consistent 12:30 miles. They were dejected, depressed, and totally convinced that they were somehow failing at running. Then I came along, and introduced them to the idea of "beginning" something.

As adults, we forget how to begin.

As kids, we were used to falling down, both literally and figuratively. We'd try stuff and stink at it. All the time. That's what beginners do. There are very few that start something and win right off the bat. Most beginners fall off, fall back, fall down... But at least beginners try.

As adults we kinda forget (or refuse) to try stuff that we think we'll suck at, just because it's painful for your heart and your head to fail at something. But running a 12:30 pace is not failing.

Not getting off the couch is failing.

I remember telling them about beginning, and how they should be patient, and have faith in themselves. That they should just get out there and enjoy, and move, and feel what it's like to let their bodies do what they're supposed to do -- and to feel what it's like to let their bodies (rather than their expectations and mental demands) tell them what is possible from day to day.

I remember that conversation, but was surprised that they remembered it, too. And I'm really flattered that they used that conversation as motivation over the past few months, taking heart in the fact that I, too, was a beginner not so very long ago.

I'm happy to report that these ladies are now running at 10:30 and faster pace. I'm sure they'll continue to get faster if that's what they want. But no matter how fast they end up going, they're winning.

Belly.

It's all in our heads

2011-03-23T15:35:00.003-05:00

So, by this point in the season (in the midwest, at least), we've spent hours planning out our training schedules. There are base periods, builds, peaks and valleys. We've got hours blocked for bricks -- runs with swims, and bikes with runs. Our muscles are strengthened, and stretched, and built and broken down with training over the course of the season. So at this point, we're planning for that, and starting the "training" in earnest.

We've done our research over the long, dark, dreary winter. We've read about nutrition being the "fourth discipline" and have added protein, or more carbs, or more natural foods. We've decreased drag, increased efficiency, added a powermeter to track wattage, and have ditched the running shoes to have lighter feet and a shorter stride. We've got heart rate monitors and footpods, pace calculators and spedometers -- holiday gifts, or gifts to ourselves. Something to look at during icy runs to remind us that yes -- summer will come back and there is a purpose to the training.

But all too often there's something missing from our arsenal. Something essential to any racer's success that's far more important than most would admit, and often overlooked or dismissed.

Our brains.

It's strange to think of, but from what I can tell, most of us spend very little time training mentally for the races that we prepare our bodies so methodically for. I mean, how many of us log into Trainingpeaks to add in a "workout" for "Mental Visualization"? I don't think anyone discounts mental preparation, but it's just not given the same marquis treatment as tempo runs, or swim stroke training. And I think it should, because I think it matters just as much. Maybe more.

So, in a few blog posts, I'm going to advocate that we become better self-coaches (really, self-parents) and start prepping our mind as well as we prep our bodies, and talk about how we can make our minds as tough as our quads.

Belly.

Goodness. And Grape Sorbet.

2011-02-21T11:41:00.008-06:00

SJV and I went to Denver this past weekend to attend the wedding of some truly amazing people. Kirk (one of SJV's best friends from childhood) and Carrie tied the knot on Saturday, and we were psyched to be part of their weekend. And I was psyched to meet many of SJV's childhood friends. They are, without a doubt, a fantastic crew.

Truth be told, I was a little nervous about meeting them.

They played central roles in SJV's stories about his childhood and, frankly, I wanted them to like me as much as I knew I would like them. They're also a very tight group, and I wanted SJV to have his time to catch up with them. I figured they might not want a chick hanging with the guys, and I worried I might not really get to know them. I promised myself that if it looked like they were going to hang back with me there, I would retreat to the sidelines and make sure SJV got his time with his guys.

I guess I shouldn't have worried.

By the end of the weekend my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. My cheeks were sore from smiling so much. And my memory bank was gloriously full. There were so many stories. Houses and health code violations; Adam and Eve bars and odd fungal infections; pick up lines revolving around grape sorbet lip balm (that were strangely successful)...

It was as if I was part of a 48-hour standup routine.

And I loved every minute of it. Every gut-busting, giggle-inducing, guffaw-creating second. But I especially loved those moments (between jokes) when these tough guys would look at one another, or at Kirk, with a softness that made me melt.

During the ceremony, the officiant relayed the answers Kirk and Carrie gave to some questions he had asked them. Responding to one of those questions, Kirk -- a guy who has been to hell and back and lived to tell the tale -- said something that really stuck with me. He said that there is such a thing as goodness in this world, and it should be pursued.

Indeed.

Before we left Denver, we had breakfast with everyone -- a few short hours after we had left them when the bars closed down. And as I looked around the breakfast table, I had to smile. Yes, there is such a thing as goodness. And Kirk pursued it. He found it in his wonderful wife, who's love for him is blinding. And he found it in each of those guys. They have it in spades.

We can't wait to see them again.

The Year of the Half (or why we aren't doing IMOO this year)

2011-02-13T08:55:00.011-06:00

Sweet Johnny V (now "the hubster") and I have decided that this is the Year of the Half. We'll be doing three of them -- two independent races, and one Ironman brand. Why would we do this to ourselves, you ask?

Good question.

The answer? So we can eat more food!

(Well, that's partially true. We've already proven that newlyweds do, indeed, gain weight... particularly in the off-season.)

But the real answer is that we opted out of Ironman Wisconsin - at least for 2011. The plan had always been to have the Racing Year To End All Years in 2011, so that if we do decide to have little people, we (errr... "I") would feel like we were ... ready. Ready to give up training and racing for a little while, and ready to embark on that new adventure. We both figured that if we were going to do Ironman together, 2011 would be the best time. As a DINK couple, we'd have the resources and the time.

So, we signed up to volunteer with some of our friends at Ironman Wisconsin. The plan? Ride the course on Saturday, volunteer on Sunday, and sign up for the race on Monday. We drove up on Friday after work, bikes in tow. Saturday morning it rained quite a bit, and we thought our plans would be thwarted. But by the afternoon the weather broke, and it was a perfect fall day for a ride. We got the bikes ready and headed out to the course. We would do just one loop of two, so "just" a 40 miler. Piece of cake. Right?

Now, normally SJV and I are extremely prepared. We carry i.d.s, money, extra fluids and food. For some reason -- perhaps because we felt particularly "expert" at the end of the season and because we had already taken our Speedfills off of our bikes, we brought two water bottles for each of us and a gel. We thought we were being pretty conservative.

As we got out onto the course, we began to see why Ironman Wisconsin is considered a "hilly" course. There are the mythic "three sisters" hills, and I hadn't mapped out where they were. The first five minutes into the ride, we went up a fairly impressive hill and I thought: "Ahhh. This must be the first of the three sisters!" Ummmm... no. Not by a long shot. That was a bunny hill compared to some of the monsters we encountered. Every few minutes we were going up or coming down a hill.

Screaming descents, grunting uphills -- it's a good thing that I like climbing and I have a good bike setup for it.

It became clear, however, that we had miscalculated our nutrition needs. Massively. By the time we got about 20 miles in (so that we couldn't really turn around) we realized our mistake. But with no cash and no way to get back, we had to push onward. Hard. And at this point, we were trying to beat dusk.

I've never used EVERY gear available on a ride. Now I have. And I've never been so happy to be done with a ride. Considering the fact that we had no nutrition and not much by way of fluids, we didn't do too bad -- I think it took us about 3:30, and we weren't really dawdling. And we were in excellent shape. For us, at least. So rather than giving each other a high-five at the end of the ride and having visions of IMOO dancing in our heads, we spent a good ten minutes silently contemplating whether this was such a good idea. I was more concerned about bike handling skills and descending; John was just less enthused because although the course is gorgeous, it was just a lot more challenging. Would this be fun? We both pondered, and decided to sleep on it.

The next day we volunteered at a water stop that had a "Super Hero" theme.

I waited until the second loop before I unveiled my costume.

That went over pretty well with the tired men-folk, and with the ladies who appreciated a little comedic relief. Nothing like catwoman screaming "Water! Perform!" (They were serving Ironman Perform rather than Gatorade...)

We volunteered all day, and then spent the evening cheering friends in to their finishes, finishing our night as the last racer came in at midnight. And even though we were inspired by the racers we saw finish, we were still left with the conclusion that we just enjoyed ourselves so much training for and racing at the half distance, that maybe an intense year of racing that distance would be more ... Fun.

And isn't that what this is all about anyhow?

So, 2011 will be the Year of the Half. Maybe 2012 with be the Year of the Full. We'll see...

Whatever you do, have fun...

Belly

Back

2011-02-12T15:57:00.004-06:00

I didn't have the heart to replace the post detailing my grand-mama's incredibly strong heart for a very, very long time. So much has happened since that post.

There was Ironman Arizona, where I met the 2010 Ironman World Champion (Macca)

...and "One Arm Willie" - a very accomplished paratriathlete.

(More on that in another post.) There was our trip to Sedona after Ironman.

There was Sweet Johnny V's proposal in February on the beach in St. Joseph.

There was Steelhead.

And there was our wedding in St. Joseph, on the beach where we raced.

But now I'm back.

We'll be training for three 1/2s this year - Grand Rapids (June), Door County (July) and Steelhead redux (August). It's going to be an awesome year.

Belly

A Strong Heart

2009-08-03T07:03:00.005-05:00

Saturday was Steelhead -- the mother of all races for me this year, and the culmination of my year of training. But, on Saturday morning, rather than donning my tri top and wetsuit, compression socks and arm coolers, I readied for the day with a smear of lipstick, a simple black dress, the most delicate black heels I own (grandma loved heels), and a handful of kleenex.

On Thursday, July 23, 2009, my 91 and 3/4 year-old grandmother slipped on some outdoor stairs leading to her nephew's home. She fell backwards -- something any of us could have done -- and landed heavily, hitting her head quite hard. She lost consciousness almost immediately; it was never regained. She was with family from the second of the accident -- her nephew's wife was home when my grandmother stopped by (unexpectedly, I might add) and was there to call the ambulance. Grandma was life-flighted to the nearest hospital that could handle that sort of injury, in Toledo.

Last Thursday, I was under the weather. I had gotten only four hours of sleep the night before, and had had a stressful day of my own. SJV and I were sitting on my couch when I got the call from my mother. We didn't yet know the full story -- so mom gave me the cliff's notes version, and said she would call back with more information, and let me know if I should make the 4.5 hour trip straight away. SJV and I agreed that everyone was overreacting. Grandma was an independent, strong, courageous woman. She lived on her own; she drove herself where she wanted to go (much to our chagrin, and notwithstanding our protests); she conducted herself with grace and class, and valued her privacy. SJV and I thought that she fell, but that the EMS would take her to the hospital, where they would do a quick scan, proclaim her right as rain, and send her home, where she would complain about the fuss that had been caused and the fact that everyone would know that she had been taken to the hospital. (She had never had surgery, had never broken a bone. At nearly 92 years old, grandma was in amazing health.)

The second call that I got was far more grave. Grandma had both an epidural and subdural hematoma, and they hoped that she would hang on until family arrived. There was nothing they could do. Suddenly I was a flurry of activity -- trying to get my bag packed, trying to get someone to care for Idgy the Cat, trying to let work know that I would be taking Friday off. SJV let me borrow his car, and I started out at 9:00 or so -- hit some major traffic (thanks, Obama, for messing up our streets when you come into town) and finally got to The Toledo Hospital at 3:00 a.m. (or so) on Friday morning.

Grandma and I spent a few hours there alone, in the dark morning hours on Friday, a ventilator breathing for her, and all manner and sorts of monitors keeping track of how she was doing. It was quiet; other than my voice as I talked to grandma, there was only the whirr of the ventilator, and the rock of her body as the ventilator worked for her. I told her all of the things I thought she might not know; how amazed I was at her strength, how proud I was of her independence, how glad I was to have her on my side, and how much I respected her.

Katie, my grandmother's nephew's wife, was there as well, although she was sleeping when I arrived. Soon, my mother would arrive after driving all through the night from Missouri; my sister would fly in from her home in Georgia, and my aunt and uncle would arrive from Virginia. We were told that Grandma would not be long for this world without the ventilator. She had a living will; my uncle had that in her papers. We did not have to make any difficult decisions -- she had made them for us. At 4:45 on Friday, they removed the ventilator and all other forms of life support while we waited outside her room in the neuro ICU, shuffling our feet and trying to talk about somethig that wasn't as ... hard ... as what we were doing, and what we were going to do. They called us back in, and we surrounded her bedside -- crying and holding each other, waiting for grandma to take her leave.

An hour passed. Then two. Grandma was obviously stronger than anyone had imagined. Four (or so) hours later, my mother and I had to leave -- we had to go home to Grandma's house and get some sleep. I think we both expected to get a call during the night, but none came. Over the next five days, my mother, my aunt, my sister and I took shifts through the night and the day -- holding Grandma's hand, singing, telling stories, reading from her Bible, watching Lawrence Welk.

As each day came and went, and melded into the next, the doctors would arrive en masse, asking if we had any questions, appearing perplexed that a nearly 92 year old woman would survive day after day without any form of nourishment or breathing assistance. But, for those of us that knew Grandma, it was certainly like her. One doctor looked at us and said: "She has a strong heart, and strong lungs. Pretty amazing." Indeed.

Ultimately, Grandma waited until we were all at her bedside (unexpectedly, actually, as my mother and I felt anxious back at Grandma's house and came back to the hospital before our "shift" began) to pass away. Five days after she was removed from life support, on July 28, 2009, my Grandma passed away surrounded by family that loved her so very much. We sang to her, caressed her hair, held her hands, and told her how much we loved her as she left this earth.

And so, on Saturday, August 1, SJV and I piled into a car devoid of triathlon gear, but packed with heavy emotion. We didn't tune up our bikes, or assemble our race belts. But what we did do required just as much endurance, and just as much strength. Perhaps my training over the summer was in preparation for those moments. Who can say.

I can say, however, that my Grandma was an amazing woman. Spunky and classy, and full of life. I hope that I've inherited my Grandma's heart -- strong and persistent. Determined. Unwilling to take no for an answer. Unwilling to let anyone else control her life, and, ultimately, her death.

Live life to the fullest.
Belly

Meditation, a Black Pearl, and the Art of Open Water Swimming

2009-07-21T06:18:00.005-05:00

Open water swims aren't easy for me. They're not awful - don't get me wrong - but getting used to swimming for a long time in Lake Michigan wasn't the easiest thing for me to do either - especially when it's choppy, or sea-weedy, or murky. I suppose that's normal -- who in their right mind would *love* swimming in a muddy washing machine? Like most folks, SJV and I would often opt out of open water swims when the water looked ... less than optimal. But this year SJV and I are in a class that meets every Thursday night -- regardless of the waves, the visibility, or the presence of dead fish. (Usually there aren't waves, which sortof annoys me, as I'd like to have practice with Monster Waves before encountering any at Steelhead. But murkiness and dead fish are pretty much par for the course.)

I've been swimming since I was a wee kiddo, so I was a little surprised when I'd have slight panicky feelings when the water would get super murky, or super choppy. A few weeks ago, we were headed out to the 1/2 mile marker on a relatively calm day, but the water was pretty murky, and all I could see in front of my face was sediment. I also had a feeling that we were pretty deep at that point, so I had this strange sensation of claustrophobia and acrophobia at the same time. The benefit was that I boogied along pretty well -- nice fast split. But I was surprised at my reaction -- I've never truly freaked out during a swim, even when the chop was significant (maybe 2 foot waves? the photos make it look more calm than it was - folks were getting fished out by the coast guard the whole way) and my goggles fogged up so bad during last year's Michigan City triathlon that I couldn't see a thing. (See below.)

Fast forward a few weeks to my Frigid Swim (also known as The Ice Bath) - when I emerged from the lake with frozen heels and frozen toes. A sanity check revealed that I needed a thicker and fuller wetsuit. So, off I went to contact the guys at TriBug (awesome guys) to purchase the DeSoto Black Pearl that I had tried on at the beginning of the season. Within a day or two I was swimming in my fancy new full-sleeved wetsuit, which makes me feel (and look!) faster and ... well ... warmer. :) Now, armed with my baby Black Pearl, I am a bit more buoyant (always a bonus) and I can cut through the water a bit better. Nice.

That extra padding, and a few more practice swims, and I was starting to feel more calm in the water again. But I also started thinking about my swims in a buddhist/meditative sort of way -- focusing my attention on my stroke, and on my form, and on the feeling of the water on my hand (except when my hand grabbed seaweed, when I focused on speeding up to get out of the seaweed). So, this last weekend when SJV and I volunteered for gear watch down at the beach on Saturday morning, I figured I'd get in a nice long swim. After watching the folks from Swim Across America start from the beach, I hopped in the water -- which was pretty choppy (1 foot waves, or so they said) but relatively clear. Right away, I swallowed water and got hit in the face with a wave, which proceeded to go right up my nose and burn like the dickens. Great practice, but never fun. A wave would come along and move me a bit sideways, then a roller would lift me up and bring me back down. It went sortof like this: slap slap (on the face) roll up, roll down, kerwhack (on the other side of the face), slap slap ... (repeat, ad nauseum). Pretty soon, I got into a rhythm -- I started to expect the slaps and kerwhacks, the rolls up and the rolls down, and to work with them. And right when I got comfortable, I'd get a kerwhack rather than a slap, and the rolls would come from the side rather than the front. I'd get caught off-guard, and would sputter a bit.

It got me thinking. You can't predict what an open water swim will be like -- even from the beach, looking out at the wave-height. You can't even predict what the next wave will be like. It might be a slap, which you're expecting. But it also might be a kerwhack, which you aren't really expecting. The only thing that you do know, and that you can count on for certain, is that it won't always be what you expect, and that you can't predict what the waves will do -- but that you can (with your Black Pearl and your practice) finish the swim.

I won't lie and say that my swim time improved dramatically when I let go of my wave-expectations. It was my attitude about the swim that improved and, I suspect, my energy expenditure. Rather than fighting the waves that I wasn't expecting, I was working with each wave as it came. Each on its own, and on its own time.

I could be really cheesy right now and say that life is the same way -- that you can't predict the waves, and the more you fight each wave that comes in, the more energy you expend (unnecessarily) -- and the more tired you are when you reach the beach. And you'll reach the beach, of course. It's just a matter of when you do, and how you do it, and how you feel about the swim.

But I'll refrain from being super cheesy today, and just say that I'm happy that I made friends with the waves this weekend.

Expect the unexpected,

Belly.

Finally figuring it out. (Hat tip to Jen Harrison!)

2009-07-13T20:57:00.006-05:00

I've always been one of those runners that hates to eat before a run.

In fact, I've always looked forward to the post-run munch fest, and the fun that we have on Saturday mornings at The Bagel Place with fellow runners, eating bagels and hummus, and drinking super-hot coffee (particularly on those February mornings when everyone with any sanity is at home curled up under mountains of blankets). I'm ashamed to say that I've "saved" calories for these post-run-food-extravaganzas -- bargaining with myself over a 10 mile run (do this now, eat this later). I've carried that practice over to races, to a large extent -- fueled with the knowledge that I wasn't "racing to win" and was just "doing it for fun." Who needs to eat some gelatinous gooish substance (aptly named Gu) when you're just out to best yourself? Then I started getting a wee bit faster, and wanting to push myself. Really, really push myself. But, frankly, it's hard to hit top speed when there's no gas in the tank. I got pretty good at running on fumes. Still, I protested that the fact that I wasn't Going Fast had nothing to do with the fuel (or lack thereof) and everything to do with Ability or Training or Conditions.

(Keep in mind that I've done a marathon, here, folks. 26 miles, and only as many calories as went into a water-bottle filled with some glukos. I may have eaten a sandwich before. Before my most recent half marathon, I had two slices of bread and drank only water throughout the race. I'm not kidding.)

And, just to add a bit more flair, I've also always been one of those folks who gets a wee bit ... "cranky" ... when her blood sugar gets a little off. (Just ask SJV. Bless him and his patience.) I've honestly chalked my somewhat surly yet animated post-race-disposition to ... well ... the race. And, in case you don't believe that I could be so ... surly (I am a sunny person by nature, I like to think) -- I give you Exhibit A. From mile 24 of The Marathon. Again - look Mom! No calories!

No, I do not look like a happy camper.

And Exhibit B. This is from the Magellan Half Marathon.

Again -- fantastic time (a PR by 20 minutes). But see that expression? Here's a closeup.

See how I am literally almost elbowing that dude on my left? He's in my way (to get water, I think, but there's also food on that table). SJV took that photo to show me how my ... ahem ... attitude ... changes when I haven't had food and have really pushed it. Again -- this is how I look after 13 miles going all out, with only two slices of bread and water to get me through to a PR by 20 minutes.

Now, fast forward to Bigfoot. SJV's coach, Jen Harrison (here's the hat tip!) had suggested race fueling for him, and had explained how important it was. Now, could I really argue with an expert? Not really. So I decided to try to force a powergel down my throat after the swim, and after the bike. Nothing too fancy here -- just two gels through the race.

I had a pretty fast run. (The wind was most impressive that day, so the bike portion was ... not cool.) So I thought that maybe -- on account of the fast run -- on an upcoming Long Bike I would have some more calories. Just to ... you know ... see the difference. If there was one (I was somewhat dubious).

Two weeks ago, on a long ride in Barrington, I tried out EFS, which seemed like it would work because I sweat like a stuck pig (EFS has some good stuff for folks like me that perspire a bit more than others) and has some calories. And it doesn't taste too horrible. Still bad, but not awful. And it seemed to work -- I didn't feel like strangling anyone at the end of the ride (excellent!) and I felt like I could actually have done even more. The run was a bit off, but otherwise I felt great.

Now, fast forward to yesterday. I had a bagel with peanut butter in the morning. And I brought two bottles for my cages on the back of my bike (one scoop of EFS in each) and 40 ounces of water mixed with 2 scoops of EFS in my speedfill. My strategy was to use all of it by the end of the ride (seriously, guys -- I sweat a lot, so I'm not overdoing it). I was also going to force myself to use a powergel once every hour. Like clockwork, I drank down the first 1/2 of the speedfill by the first 20 miles, refilled with one bottle out of my cages at the first aid station, then drank the entire speedfill, and refilled with the last bottle at the last aid station. I drank the last swig of that as I was pulling into Jean Klock park.

And you know what?? It totally worked. I finished the bike waaaayyyy faster than I had planned (and 20 minutes faster than SJV had planned), and had one of the fastest 5 mile splits I've had in months -- after 55 miles on the bike. And I felt amazing! Who would have thunk it. I was smiling, and laughing, and other cyclists were commenting on how fresh I looked, as I ran by them to go and use the facilities. And I was smiling like Chrissy Wellington herself as I ran down the highway at a nice quick clip, saying hello to the ladies pushing baby carriages and commenting on the beautiful day.

SJV was so proud. And, frankly, so am I. So - a hat tip to Jen Harrison for having such a great influence on my race nutrition, and on the race nutrition for a lot of fellow racers. I can't say that the next time I'm out on a 5 mile easy run with the Clocktower Runners that I'll down a powergel in advance. But I can say that I now know how I should feel. And that's half the battle, isn't it?

Belly.

A Perfect Weekend

2009-07-13T06:57:00.003-05:00

Well, folks, we're back. Back from beautiful St. Joe, with the waitresses that say hello with a smile and a howdy-do-attitude a mere thirty seconds after you sit down at their table (as compared to The City, where SJV and I waited for 15 minutes yesterday -- hungry as can be -- whilst every server in the house passed us by. It might have been because we had gone on a 56 mile bike ride, had driven the two hours home, and had not yet showered. We were a smelly, ugly mess, which is why we requested outdoor seating. We understand you have standards. But even if you can't stand to smell us, at least explain why you're ignoring us, won't you? Rude.); back from beautiful St. Joe with multiple ice cream parlors and two-pound carmel apples; back from beautiful St. Joe with the summer sunlight that lasts until 9:30 at night.... Ahhhh. It's like heaven.

And so, as you can see from above, I did indeed survive the 56 (well, actually 54.7 - more about the loss of the 1.3 miles later) mile bike ride with no incident, and actually fared far better than I could have hoped. SJV has been saying for a few weeks that I'm pretty good on the hills, and that showed yesterday, when I somewhat unintentionally dropped a few ladies I was riding with on the hills -- which is a huge Confidence Boost with Steelhead mere weeks away (how did time speed up like that??). After my ride, which I completed in something around 3:10, I did a fast 5 miles (fast for me) in about 45 minutes. Super time, and I felt ... amazing. My legs didn't feel like rubber, my stomach was fine, head was fine -- I felt fresh as can be. Let's hope that notwithstanding a good dress rehearsal we also have a good show...

I don't have enough time to do the weekend justice - I only have time for a quick post. There are too many funny things, interesting things, and points to ponder. But I did want everyone to know that both SJV and I survived, and had a wonderful, perfect weekend.

Hope you enjoyed yours.
Belly
p.s. - if you're reading me on facebook, you can also read me at www.runnerwithatriaddiction.blogspot.com

And we're off!

2009-07-09T06:53:00.005-05:00

Last year, for my very first triathlon, I chose Danskin. Excellent estrogen-centric race -- there are women called Swim Angels that swim alongside you with noodles (the foam rollers, not the food), and there's much discussion and celebration of Girl Power. Danskin has traditionally been held in Pleasant Prairie Wisconsin, during the second weekend in July. This year, Danskin has been scheduled for the end of September; in its place is the Trek triathlon -- also women centric, and run by the same race organization team that ran Danskin for years (props to Maggie Sullivan and Sally Edwards here).

A few months ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Maggie and Sally at a little event at the Trek store here in Chicago, when they did a little meet and greet to promote their new event. I went with buddy Carrie, (shown here before one of her legs in the MC200 last year) and we had a grand time. In fact, at the end of the event, Carrie decided to make Trek her first triathlon, and I decided to sign up for the race as well.

That means that my first triathlon of the season, Bigfoot (Sprint distance on July 28) would be followed by Trek (another Sprint distance July 12) which would be followed by Steelhead (1/2 Iron on August 1 -- can you feel the butterflies in my stomach from there?).

After Bigfoot, and the BigWind that went with Bigfoot, I had second, and third, thoughts about whether doing two sprints so close to each other -- and so close to Steelhead -- were a good idea. I started to get a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach -- a sort of refrain of self-doubt, that asked (again and again) what would I do at Steelhead if there was Real Wind, like the wind at Bigfoot? Would I be prepared to handle it? Could I tackle the hills and Wind on my spiffy but still-low-mileage (but climbing) powder-blue-bike?

I began to really stress over this question -- particularly because I couldn't do much about it. I was signed up for Trek, after all, and Carrie was as well. I'd paid my money, I'd secured a hotel -- and I had a friend relying upon me to be there with her and for her. Full stop. So, I tried to settle myself, told myself that I had put in the time, I could gut it through a rough swim, a Windy bike, and a hilly run. I'd be fine. Still, gnawing in the tummy. Gnawing, gnawing.

Then, during a run together (Carrie and I run amazingly well together -- it's honestly fantastic; our cadence and our leg strides match exactly, and there's this easy, musical rhythm that's just like ... magic), Carrie reminded me that her friend Hilary was going to do the race with her, too. And then it all started to come into place. Here was Carrie -- an amazing runner, and former high school swimmer, who had gotten a road bike and was already pumping out serious mileage. And she was Just Fine on her own. She would certainly have fun at Trek -- with me, or without me, and didn't need me to babysit her. Now that I knew she would have someone to travel with, and to hang out with before the race, my mind was nearly made up. I know that I'm important to my friends, but let's face it -- Carrie wasn't going to cry if I didn't come because i needed to train for a 1/2 Iron.

And then, I found out that Wellfit's sponsoring a supported ride of the Steelhead bike course this weekend. That basically solidified it. And so, one morning on a run with Carrie, I mentioned it. Without hesitation, she encouraged me to do the supported ride. She's a cool chick, that Carrie. And she's going to mop up the competition tomorrow.

And so, here I am -- the day before Trek, when I'm sure many women feel exactly like I did last year -- nervous, and excited, and ready to test their training. And I feel that way too, a little -- but because I'm going to ride the Steelhead bike course (which I've now realized is less challenging than the course that we do every Sunday). I'll be going with the Slow Group, which I want to rename the Party Crowd, because we'll be going slow enough to chat and generally enjoy ourselves. ;) SJV will, of course, be going with the Fast Group...

So off we go (soon) to St. Joseph. I'll give you all an update of what we did, and the adventures I'm sure we'll have, come Sunday night. Wish me luck!

Happy trails,

Belly

2009-07-08T06:06:00.002-05:00

SJV's stomach bugged him all night. And, unfortunately, he wasn't alone.

A little background: SJV has two gorgeous siamese cats. He inherited them from a couple he had befriended (and perhaps treated -- I can't remember the details) when they were a few years old. So Romeo and Cosmo have been part of the SJV family for over 10 years -- they're 15 now, and in excellent shape (they moisturize). Romeo is a blue-point siamese, and is the kind of cat who loves to be picked up, and when you pick him up, he goes all limp and paws the air with his little feet. Cosmo is a traditional chocolate/tan color, is very tough (for a pure-bred siamese cat who's never lived on the mean streets), and is no-nonsense. He will be held for 30 seconds or less, please, and only on his terms. He's the more robust and muscular of the two, as well. SJV has promised to send me photos to post -- these guys could have been models.

Back to this weekend. While SJV's tummy was bothering him, Cosmo showed signs that he, too, was having some ... issues. He'd jump into the litter box, walk around, then walk back out. A few minutes later, he'd do the same thing. He was walking, walking, walking all over the place. Very un-Cosmo-like. All of this, of course, on the 4th of July (when all babies and pets have Emergency Issues That Must Be Addressed).

And so, off we went to the Kitty E.R. (After assessing whether we needed to put Romeo through the trauma of also going to the Kitty E.R. because, after all, Coz and Rome haven't been separated -- and would Romeo "freak out" at home alone? Ahh - the trials of parenting.)

We get to the E.R., Cozzie in tow (looking very worried, and perplexed, and as though this was Not the way he expected to spend his holiday). I'm happy to see that the E.R. is totally empty -- there's one woman coddling and soothing a very, very tiny pit-bull puppy, who we later learn is 18 days old (and looking even smaller than an 18 day old puppy should look - hence the visit, I imagine). But other than that one woman and infant canine, that's it.

We get into an exam room right away, and it takes some effort to get Coz out of the carrier, and then once he's out of the carrier, it takes some effort to get him weighed and examined. The vet tech, whose arms are covered in very interesting tattoos (I tried not to stare, but it's hard sometimes, you know?) said he didn't think it was a bladder issue because he couldn't even feel little Cozzie's bladder. So, that was a relief. I was beginning to wonder whether we had overreacted.

Then the vet comes in -- a tall, sortof goofy looking guy with a big smile. He says that they're going to need to take an X-ray, and that it seems that Cozzie might be constipated. Like, severely constipated.

This is where I should make an observation, which I first realized about a year and a half ago when two friends of mine had their first child. I went to their house to meet the new addition, and as I was holding the little pumpkin, they had a very interesting exchange about whether the little muffin had had a b.m. -- and they discussed it in the same tone of voice that you would discuss what you had for lunch. "So, what did you have for lunch, honey?" "Great sandwich at PotBellys -- love that place. Oh, and I may have mentioned that at 11:25 when I changed the baby's diaper, she had a b.m., and it was [insert descriptor here]." Apparently they felt perfectly normal talking about the new baby's digestive issues etc. in front of a newcomer (a single newcomer, at the time): me. This may be uncommon (I have never encountered it) but it does bring me to the observation: parents and pet owners really don't have too much of an issue discussing poo and puke, or poo and puke related issues. I suppose we have to get over the "ick" factor pretty quickly, because like it or not, there are poo and puke related issues with both babies and animals, and babies and animals don't really care if you like to talk about it or not.

Back to the E.R. X-rays are taken of the Cozzie-cat, and as it turns out, he's Super Constipated. He's backed up all the way to his small intestine (yikes!). And so, they begin with trying to flush the poor guy out... which takes about 10 hours, once all is said and done. I will spare you the details on this one...

And so, Cozzie cat is now at home, eating a new diet that's fortified with canned pumpkin (who knew that would help!) and enjoying some newfound regularity (we hope). So, over the weekend we had lots of "outs" -- less "ins." But everyone came out okay on the ... ahem ... "other end." (Couldn't help it.)

Off I go to get on the trainer and try to get in a workout. :) See you tomorrow.

Belly

The Ins and Outs (more outs than ins) of the Weekend

2009-07-07T07:06:00.003-05:00

Well, happy 4th of July (belatedly) to everyone! I hope that your weekend was full of sun, and fun, and relaxation. Our weekend was ... interesting. Good, in a "cleansing" sort of way.

SJV and I started our our weekend with promises of fun: a sailboat excursion to watch the fireworks from the harbor by Navy Pier. Rock-star seating, of course, and a chance to catch up with some friends of mine that I haven't seen for some time. (Aside: it's interesting how, once you start up a serious relationship with someone as amazing as SJV, you unintentionally lose touch with folks. I always hated people that fell away/went underground after getting into a relationship -- calling them "whipped," etc., and saying I would never do the same thing. But SJV's like, my best friend. Full stop. So it makes sense. But it doesn't mean I don't miss my other buds.)

So my buddy sent us all a map to his dock, which I scoffed at ("I know where his boat is! I've been there a million times") and SJV and I loaded up two six packs into the transition bag we got at Bigfoot (transition bags double as great Beer Carriers, for those that find a need for such transport) and I grabbed the wine. I had made a mental note of the dock number (actually, letter N), just in case, and we set off walking the mile or so to the harbor.

Two six packs in a transition bag are heavy, so SJV was the total gentleman for taking that on. And take it on he did. We walked the mile or so to the harbor, and then snaked around the docks. I saw that the letters on the dock seemed to be going the wrong way (up, not down, as we walked toward where I just KNEW his boat was) but I dismissed it. (For those of you that live in Chicago, you understand that just because something seems logical doesn't mean that's the way it's done, or set up, or organized. So I figured the docks would start renumbering.) Right as we got all the way around the harbor, I saw that the docks did, indeed, start renumbering. With two letters, rather than one. *shit*

I grab my cell phone, and call my buddy. He starts laughing. He has moved the boat to a new dock, he explains, and it's on the other side of the harbor -- very close, actually, to where we started. I added about a mile (perhaps more) to our little excursion. SJV took it like a trooper, but the six packs (bottles) were digging into his back, and although I tried to take them from him for a minute, he gutted it out.

We finally made it to the boat and hopped on. My buddy A (the owner of the boat) had asked if SJV and another friend, Mike, could help "winch him to the mast" -- the true meaning of that phrase, I still don't know. In any case, pretty soon A was dangling in a harness of sorts (that looked uncomfortable in his ... well ... shorts), holding a weather vane with his teeth perilously close to his eyes and the eyes of SJV and Mike. My friend A is nothing if not hard core. There's lots of discussion, and soon other boat-owners are looking over, half smiling and making jokes that when the guys are finished with A's boat, they can come over and help them, too. Nice to have a peanut gallery when you're going to be hanging 30 feet in the air, with a weather vane that can poke your eyes out (and the eyes of onlookers and helpers) held in your teeth, and your ... "guys" (ahem) ... cinched up in a harness that looks as if it's made for a kindergarten playground.

Soon, I hear a creaking, harsh noise, and see that SJV has drawn the short straw, and will be "winching" A up the mast. But, as soon as they start, they end (maybe 20 "winches" or so into the project). About 10 feet up, A has decided that "This Is Stupid" and the project is over.

Thankfully.

SJV looks relieved, and I am as well. Back to the back of the boat, we're all having a bit of wine or beer, and I'm meeting some new people, which is always fun. After waiting for the rest of our crew, we start off.

SJV had been a little nervous that his stomach wouldn't cooperate for the ride. He's got a sensitive stomach, so I could understand his concern. Sometimes he gets queasy -- like when there are big swells on the lake and we're out on a long swim. But, I had reassured him, and said that swimming and sailing are two totally different things, and that I was certain he'd be fine. Now, I wasn't certain (I had also recommended that we bring dramamine) but I thought that he'd probably be okay, or at least more good than bad.

We start out, and I look over, nervously, at SJV. I am pleased as punch to see that he's standing at the back of the boat, HUGE grin on his face, saying this is awesome -- totally fun, and that it's like being on the boat in Gilligan's Island. Yahoo! We're in the clear, I think. Beers all around -- let's settle in and enjoy the fireworks.

We get to the spot where we're going to drop anchor - perfect location, just close enough to the fireworks, but far enough away, too. A does this every year, and it shows. We're sitting there for a minute, and I'm enjoying the soft rock-rock-rock of the boat. Then I look over to SJV. He's a distinct shade of green. "Sugar" he says (he calls me Sugar), "This isn't good."

Suddenly, I go into "Mama Goose mode". Off we go to the very tip of the boat, to sit and to focus on the horizon, and to think calming thoughts, etc. We're joined by another couple of landlubbers - W, who is from Nebraska, and her boyfriend Eric. We exchange a few words about how seasickness sucks, and then fall silent. SJV is, I imagine, concentrating on not throwing up. He keeps telling me he's sorry, and I keep telling him there's no need. We hear bangs and crashes from the boat-deck, and a muttered "party foul," and realize that everyone else is drunk -- and we're all focused on ensuring that W and SJV don't hurl.

I give SJV a quick kiss, and head to the deck so that I can go below and use the "facilities". There's a trick with peeing on a boat -- very similar to peeing on a plane -- but the actual toilet is tricky, too. There's a valve, and a thingy to plunge, and it's just generally hard to figure out, no matter how many times I've done it. And so, it takes me a good 10 minutes to go down, pee, come back up and ask for directions on how to plunge-flush the toilet, go back down, fiddle with it. Success! And then come back up. I climb back to the tip of the boat, and SJV is White As A Ghost, and W and Eric are cuddled up, their faces pointed away from both SJV and i.

"I'm sorry." SJV continues with the apologies, and I again assure him that everyone understands, that it's no big deal... etc. He then looks at me as though I just don't get it -- then explains that in the last 10 minutes (while I've been below) he's puked over the side at least 8 times - never once getting up from his position on the boat. The Lake Michigan fishes are, he explains, enjoying an evening of exotic Pad Thai.

*sigh*

"Do you feel better?" I ask. "Yep." He says.

Poor thing. We wait an excrutiating 20 minutes before the fireworks begin. They're amazing, as always, and SJV understands then why we go to the trouble and ... well ... pain. Then we're headed back to shore. Once we get to dock, we hop out, say our goodbyes, and start heading home...

The weekend continued with a similar theme. I'll post more on that tomorrow.

Until then, hold on tight!
Belly

The Ice Bath

2009-07-03T07:45:00.003-05:00

So last night SJV and I had our Thursday night swim class. And so, we made the trek down to the lakefront, wetsuits in tow. I was wearing layers and layers of clothes (long sleeved shirt, fleece pullover, tri shorts and top and some warmup pants) so that I could overheat a bit before we got into the lake.

Because the lake is currently 62 degrees.

*Sigh*

Last week, the lake was 70 degrees -- or at least, that's what I heard. Now, the lake has "turned," apparently, and now what was warm is cold. Like a big Ice Bath. So, in preparation for swimming in an Ice Bath, I wanted to warm up a bit so that the water didn't feel so oppressive. (Hence the overheating, as described above.) We got to the lakefront, and there were only about 8 of us in class this week. That's not all that surprising -- with the holiday and everything, you have to figure a lot of folks are out of town. Still, it was a good group, and we got to meet a few people that we otherwise only know through Chicago Tri Club postings. (Hey Juan!) And I was one of only two girls this week (props to Kim), and one of only two with a sleeveless wetsuit (me and Coach Fitz). (*sigh*)

So, after our howdy-do's, we head down to the beach and get our instructions from Fitz. We're going to to another beach start, and we're going to end up doing a full mile this week, plus we'll be checking cadence and wearing little beepers under our swim caps to help us time our strokes. And so, we start off.

I get my toes in the water, and actually think it's not so bad. Knee and thigh deep weren't that bad, either. Then I had to actually "dive" in as part of a drill so the coach could check our initial cadence. So I did -- and HOLY COW. The first five strokes weren't that bad, but ... wow. Wow. I told myself that it's just like an ice bath after you've gone for a long run, and it's good for you. Builds character. Puts hair on your chest.

Wait -- I don't want hair on my chest. Strike that.

So, pretty soon we were headed off to the 1/2 mile marker and back, with little beepers that go in your swim cap so that you can hear a metronome-esque sound in your ear. You're supposed to stroke with the beat. Everyone got a number -- SJV and I got the same number to start with (awww!) -- 100. We headed out to the quarter mile marker, where we were to add five beats to our beepers (which slows the little beeper down). The water was, of course, incredibly cold, and it seemed pretty lonely out there -- we were really the only swim class going on, and nobody else was crazy enough to be out there. So it was pretty serene, and even when it started getting "deep" it was pretty relaxing. And now, with the beeping noise in my ear, I had something to focus on when/if I started "freaking out." That happens every once in a while, you know. (At least, it does to me.)

Once we got to the turnaround point, we were to add another five beats to our little beepers. It was a little hard for me to bilateral breathe with 105 (it's always hard for me to bilateral breathe, actually) so I was wondering what 110 would do. And let me tell you -- I loved it. I finally stretched out (the point of the drill, apparently) and felt like I was really moving without a whole lot of effort. The water was clear, and I could see to the bottom (sometimes good, and sometimes bad in Lake Michigan), which was relaxing, too. Even with the cold water. After class, Fitz told me that my initial cadence (when I first felt that cold water) was 75 -- so this drill was obviously perfect for someone like me (even though I attribute part of my high cadence to the fact that I was swimming in an ICE BATH).

Once we were done, and standing in knee deep water, I started to shiver. Looking around, everyone else (all men this week, except one other woman, and all wearing long-sleeved wetsuits) was hanging out, chatting. SJV took one look at me and my shivering arms, and said we were getting out. So, I hot-bodded it out of the water (I literally ran), onto the beach, to dry off and get my clothes on. That's when I realized that I couldn't really feel the heels of my feet or my toes, and that my fingertips were purple. Oops! Obviously, it's not optimal for race performance to have digits and appendages that have gone numb.

And so, I'm now worried that the Lake will turn for Steelhead (it could happen). So I'm now in the market for a new wetsuit. A few weeks ago, the guys from TriBug (great guys, great website, and great gear) brought DeSoto Black Pearls for us to try on -- I tried one on and swam in it that day, when the water was 59 degrees. And I LOVED it. Wasn't cold at all, actually. But, before buying, I thought I should see how my body does in cold water without one.

I think I now have the answer to that question.

So, looks like I might be getting a new/additional wetsuit, folks. Anyone with reviews, etc., is invited to let me know about your experience in the comments. It would sure be appreciated.

I hope you all have wonderful holiday weekends -- enjoy the Fourth of July!

Stay warm,

Belly

Photos from the weekend...

2009-07-02T07:02:00.006-05:00

Once again, SJV captured a lot of this weekend in some gorgeous photos -- so I thought I'd share with y'all.

Here's the promised photo of the beginning of my awful back spasm. Note the ridiculous hair, which is sortof a boufont. Nice look...

From later on in the day, after I had warmed myself up a bit:

Please note the white bandage creeping out from under my shirt: a Thermacare wrap that I re-tooled to go around my neck. I looked like I was wearing a Miss America sash or something. Funny.

Our room was overlooking the lake -- gorgeous -- and there was a wedding on Saturday at the hotel. The entire bridal party was immediately below our room, so SJV snapped a few photos. The flower girls seemed to get a kick out of us watching the events. Very cute wedding -- well done, b

We don't often get to see full sunsets from the city. So we really appreciated the sunsets from our view in the room:

So here are a few photos that are meant to capture how windy it was. Perhaps you can see it -- a gust of wind was basically throwing the water off to the side of the fountain. Kids were playing in the "sprinkler" effect. It looked like fun (but they ended up getting seriously, and unexpectedly, doused by one significant gust, and got a little water in their eyes, I think).

Here's our congratulatory "Good Job On The Race, Sugar" smooch:

And, at last, my personal favorite, which cracks me up every time I look at it. SJV's expression is ... in a word ... HILARIOUS. I have never seen him with this expression, and we've started calling this photo The Photo Of Dieter. (Doesn't he look like someone who would say "Ve moost daaaahnce now. Come, ve go to daaahnce!) But the photo does show off his eyes, which are, of course, gorgeous.

So there you have it, folks. The photos from the weekend. There are a few more that I'll share later in the week.

Today's the swim class that SJV and I have been part of for a few weeks. My swim time during last weekend's triathlon was a personal best -- and so was SJV's, so we were pretty happy, even though we don't feel like we can "own" our time, as it was just a big walk-fest for part of it. We're pretty sure that we're going to have to explain ourselves during tonight's class, but there really wasn't much you could do about it, save swim off course to go around people, which seems a little crazy.

I'm starting to get a bit jittery for the 1.2 mile swim that's part of Steelhead -- I'm sure that I can do it, but would probably do good with a few more distance swims in lake Michigan. The pool I practice in is TINY, so it's hard to get a real distance workout in without making yourself dizzy from turning so much. So I may lobby SJV to swim with me a bit this weekend if it's not too crazy on the lake, and if there's not too much floating garbage by the beach. (Yuck-o-rama.) Keep your fingers crossed for us...

Enjoy your day!

Belly

Bigfoot Race Report (Theme: The Unimportance of Time)

2009-07-01T12:14:00.004-05:00

For those of you who know me personally, you know that I'm motivated by goals. I like a "finishing line" to sprint to, and without one I'm often less motivated than I would like to admit. *sheepish grin* I'm the same, really, when it comes to races. I like to push myself and set a personal goal -- a benchmark -- a target -- that I can achieve with great effort, and with a little luck. But, life sometimes gets in the way of goals. When that happens, I try to keep a brave face, but I can be pretty ... sad. That's not to say that I don't thank myself for what I can do, or cheer myself on. I do. But when I've gotten soooo close to a goal that I can taste it, and then I see it slipping away... Well. That makes me pretty sad.

And so, I was pretty sad on Saturday morning after my back seized up. After SJV's and my brick workout my back was still sore, and it was becoming clear to me that my goal (a PR) would probably not be in the cards. I still laughed with SJV, and still enjoyed being out in the sun, but I felt betrayed by my own body, and depressed that I wouldn't be able to "give it my all" come Sunday morning.

In other words, I was having a bit of a pity party.

But SJV and I still had a day to tend to. We put the bikes in the hotel room, and -- without changing (we were running late) went to the breakfast at the hotel, and chose some thick bread to toast and some fruit. As we were waiting for the incredibly thorough toaster to finish with our bread, a couple (seemingly in their early 40's) walked up to us and asked whether we were in the triathlon on Sunday. Yes, we said -- and they laughed, and asked why on earth were we working out today!?! They were warm and funny, and really fun to talk to. And so, we spent the next 1/2 hour or so chatting with them, laughing and joking. They were actually 10-15 years older than we thought they were, and they had been doing triathlon for some years. But their perspective was simple and refreshing. They did it for fun, they explained, not to win, and not for a particular time. They took their time in transition, and enjoyed the race. They laughed about their race experiences, and took pride in their placement (while being self-depricating about their age and the fact that there were so few people in their age group).

I honestly couldn't help but smile. I needed some perspective on time, and here I had gotten it -- in the form of two really wonderful people, who were in the pinnacle of health and clearly in love, and who just did triathlon for The Fun Of It. Surely I could do the same.

So, SJV and I left them after breakfast, and went about our day. We ran into them again in the lobby -- this time she seemed nervous about the race (which was silly, she said, because she probably wouldn't win) and we chatted again for a bit. We ran errands, and ate lunch, and generally enjoyed the day.

We went to the packet pickup, where we picked up some amazing SWAG -- worth doing the race just for the gear alone. A transition bag, visor, and a transition towel were included. AMAZING, folks. You must do this race if you can. And then we took naps. Then it was time to go to the free pasta dinner, sponsored by the race and the hotel.

My back was still aching, and after the nap it felt a little worse (curses on that bed/torture device!). My neck ached, and I was sick and tired of feeling so tight, and injured, and sore. And so, by this time, and even though I had internalized the Lesson of Time from earlier, I was back to holding my own pity party.

Lo and behold! We walk into the pasta dinner, and there was the triathlon couple from earlier. Although they had finished eating, they stayed with us and we chatted and laughed, laughed and chatted. My back started to loosen from the giggles. And we started talking about times again. I said that my transitions were too slow, and that I should practice them. They nodded, but disagreed -- saying that they thought it was crazy how fast people would run in and run out. They couldn't imagine going that fast. In fact, they both seemed pretty comfortable with keeping their transition times right where they were. At right around eight minutes.

Eight minutes. (!!)

I'm trying to shave seconds off, and they were taking their time. Again, I couldn't help but smile. Here I was, again holding my own little pity party, thinking of times and goals, etc etc., in serious need of an attitude adjustment, and here were these two folks -- perfectly happy, and just enjoying the race.

I left with SJV, bouyed by the laughter, back feeling better than it had all day. We enjoyed the sunset from the back deck, and got to hold hands and snuggle and enjoy the evening. But (you guessed it) over the course of the next few hours, I got more and more sour. Pity, and anger, and frustration... My back was feeling a little bit better, so I would test it now and again to see if I could turn this way, or that way -- and every time I would get a ZING in response.

I slept fitfully. I awoke to a ZING in my back and shoulders, and I Faced Facts. It was going to be a Hard Day, if there would be any race at all.

SJV looked outside, and said something about wind, and it being a chilly morning. I'm not sure i said anything in response. I was busy in my head, I suppose. SJV and I got ready -- I loosened up my back the best I could, ate, and got some coffee. We coasted down the hill to the race site.

That's when I saw the white caps.

Lake Geneva -- a smallish lake with a reputation for being friendly -- was not so friendly on Sunday morning. Wind speeds between 15-20 miles per hour (gusts of 30-40) were churning the lake and turning it into a washing machine. *sigh*

SJV and I settled in transition. I got my wetsuit, tried to loosen up my back, and chatted with some folks that were watching other people try to warm-up in the chop. I just sighed. Again -- no way was I going to make any goal time today. In fact, I left my stopwatch in my transition bag.

SJV went on a quick run, and I put on my wetsuit and started to get ready for the swim. Before I knew it, SJV was back, and I needed to get into the water to start with my wave. I kissed SJV goodbye, and off I went. The water was warm, and as I walked in, I realized I was in the wrong lane, in a bad position, and that with each wave the water would lift me off the ground and then set me back down. It was eerie, but soothing, and I wasn't even expecting the horn to sound when it did. And then the most amazing thing happened. With each stretch and roll, my back eased. Suddenly I was moving faster in the water, while thinking "why am I going so fast -- this doesn't feel very hard -- I'm not really pushing it..." I was rolling from side to side, not really taking on a whole lot of water, but feeling the rotation of the waves. Suddenly I started thinking "you might be able to meet your goal... oh my god, you might just meet your goal..." ... and then WHAM! I hit a woman who had stood up (you could actually stand -- the water was only about thigh deep) and had started walking. And then I saw the sea of women that were walking ahead of me. Side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

Honestly, I almost laughed. Here I go from injury, to wind, to chop, and now I'm feeling better and making up time -- and my next obstacle is a bunch of ladies that decide to walk the swim after starting out in the front of the wave. *sheesh*

But it also reminded me that Time Didn't Matter (how many reminders did I really need here??), and that I should just have fun. So I did. I porposed around some ladies, and swam, and walked with some, and swam. I hopped out of the water and stripped off my wetsuit. Not a bad transition, really, and my back was now a non-issue. Finally.

On to the bike. Because I was pretty sure that I would not meet any of my personal goals, I started cheering everyone else on. When I passed a woman on the bike with an apparent flat, I'd shout encouragement; same with the folks that passed me like I was standing still. It became part of my race to be the Cheering Section. It was a lot of fun, and I encourage you to try it. :) I will not regale you with the numerous white-knuckle experiences I had, but will note that a gust of wind that comes at you from the side while you're going 22 mph is NOT fun. There were more hills than I anticipated, but I think they felt more difficult because of the conditions - we had an 18 mph headwind, which made the smallest of inclines feel much tougher. I was proud that I finished and didn't fly off my bike. I was also proud that I dismounted and did not fall over. ;)

The transition from bike to run was fine -- but my heart rate was a bit high, and I pulled over at one point in the run to get some food, to hydrate, and to let my heart rate come down. The run was beautiful -- a trail run through the woods. It was the one portion of the race that was unaffected by the wind. And it was right about here that I began to really put together all of the messages that I'd gotten over the weekend about how unimportant time actually is. What was important was the rest of the weekend, and my experience during the race itself. I was trying my hardest, and was having a good race. But the conditions (both natural and physical) were what they were, and I couldn't change that. What I could control, and what I had to learn to control, was my reaction to them. After I made that realization, I clocked my two fastest mile times, cheering everyone who passed me on, and telling them what a wonderful job they had done. I thanked the volunteers for helping, and admired the run course (really nice) and just generally had a great run.

And then, before I knew it, the run was almost over. I gave it a nice kick at the end (was smoked by a 14 year old there at the end, but clocked a 7:15 average pace for the .17 miles that I tried to catch her), and my race was over. SJV and I congratulated each other, and walked around in the sun, smiling and talking about our race.

It was a great Race -- great for stories, great for self-awareness, great for lessons.

And great for time. You guessed it, folks. My swim was a PR (14 minutes and change). The bike was a PR by speed (average of 20.4 mph) [CORRECTION -- NOT 20.4 -- results have changed, and I got 16.9 -- still very good for the day] and the run was nearly a PR because it was a long 5k, so my time's a bit off. In other words, with all my moaning and groaning, and with all of the difficulties and issues, I had a virtual PR (my time was 1:32, and my prior PR on a different, easier course was 1:30, but my speed on all events was significantly faster under harder conditions, so I'm gonna take it)!

And the best part? I didn't know that until the whole thing was over.

Enjoy yourself, have a wonderful day, and know that when you finish is unimportant - it's what you learn during the race that's the key.

Belly.

What a weekend...

2009-06-29T06:45:00.002-05:00

SJV and I finished our first race of the weekend -- Bigfoot -- and had a great time, notwithstanding some less than stellar conditions. I got top 10 in my age group (yay!) and SJV got top 50 overall, and placed 13 in his age group! Rock OUT! We were both really excited about our times -- SJV's is a PR -- under significantly difficult conditions (I almost blew off of my bike three times), and mine is about 3 minutes from a PR on a much more difficult course and after having some ... well ... difficulties the day before.

So I'll give you a snippit of Saturday, with a promise to expand and add photos later. SJV and I stayed at a gorgeous little Inn that's about 1/4 mile from the race. It was SJV's idea, and it was a great one -- we arrived on Friday, had dinner overlooking the lake, and I finally exhaled. I'd had a really stressful week, and was sooooo excited to have the weekend to relax, and play, and just enjoy time out of the city. We retired pretty early (we're early birds) and although I thought the bed was pretty ... soft I didn't think too much of it. I swapped around for some comfy/comfier pillows (drat that I didn't bring mine -- a note for next time), and just nodded off. I woke up throughout the night, sortof tossing and turning, and my back (between my shoulder blades) was sore. I finally got rid of the pillows altogether, and fell asleep.

I woke up at 7:00, unable to move. At all. I mean -- AT ALL. Every breath, my neck, shoulders, all the way down my back was just screaming. I whined (it was a whine - I'm not proud of it, but it was) to SJV, who asked me what was wrong. I told him that it was a back spasm -- a bad one like I used to get when I was really stressed out -- and he went, got a bunch of hot towels, and put those on my back. But not before he took a photo of me in agony (I mean, you have to laugh at what life sends your way, right?). :) I'll post that one when SJV downloads it. It is funny -- I have to admit that.

So, there I was -- immobilized on a gorgeous day, the day before my A Race -- my First Race of My Second Tri Season. Definitely not what I had planned for our fantastic weekend away. Anyhoo -- I womaned up and finally sat up (holy cripes that hurts -- you know what I mean if you've had one of these) and tried to loosen my shoulders and neck, which SJV said felt like a rock. (True.) But we had a plan to do a quick brick, and I knew that would probably get the tension out and settle me down. So I decided to try to do it, and to just do 10/10 rather than 15/15. We went down to the car, and set up a little area for transition, and off I went on the bike. I was really nervous -- my stomach was all knotted up, my back was killing me, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to race at all (I couldn't really move my head all that well, although I did do a test from side to side to ensure that I could check for cars, etc. on the bike, which I could -- safety first, you know?). But I did my 10/10 - almost needing to use the inhaler it was so humid and sunny and gorgeous, and SJV did a fast 15/15, looking super strong the whole way.

Off we went for the rest of our day, during which we got some Thermacare wraps that I used to try to keep my neck and back muscles warmed up. It worked pretty well, actually! That said, by Saturday night I was hopping mad that I had had to deal with this pain all day long. I had hoped (really, really hoped) that it would go away quickly, and that my body would feel good for race day. That wasn't to be the case, though.

There's lots more that I'll update about Saturday once I get SJV's photos -- including a gorgeous sunset on Saturday night, and how much fun we had just bopping around (even though I couldn't really turn my head...), and the fun couple (Janet and Randy) that we met, who challenged my way of looking at triathlon altogether. Of course, I'll post my full race report, and hope that the photos that SJV and I took of the wind later on in the day can show you just how windy it was. Unbelievable.

And I'll also update this week about the things I thought about during the race, and how I'm going to try to use those things (doubts and confidences) in my training before my half iron.

But, for now, I need to go get ready for work, and continue to apply heat to this neck of mine (yes, it still hurts). Just wanted to let you all know that we finished, that we did really well, and that we had a great time.

Race on,
Belly

Bigfoot (the race, not the primate) and Summer Smells

2009-06-26T06:47:00.004-05:00

The racing couple!

So, this weekend (tonight, actually), SJV and I are going to the beautiful Lake Geneva to race in Bigfoot. It's actually the very first race that I ever witnessed -- I watched SJV do it last year, and I was hooked right when I smelled the wetsuit rubber.

You know what I mean, if you swim in a wetsuit. When I first brought mine out this year, I took one whiff and said "Summer's here!" I feel the same way when I go to a chlorinated pool. I chalk that up to endless summers as a wee kiddo at the pool every day, racing my sister for pennies that my mom would throw for us, swimming with mom --who was a synchronized swimmer at one point and who would give us "rides" around the pool on her back if we begged, and eating frozen Snickers during the 15 minutes of "adult swim" when the ladies in ridiculous ruffled one-pieces would fluff around in the pool rinsing off the sweat from sunbathing, taking care not to get their hair/makeup wet. Those 15 minutes lasted, it seemed, for hours. It was a simple life -- wake up in the morning, play, go to the pool, play, come home, rinse out my suit and put it on the rack to "dry" (my suit stayed wet, it seemed, the entire summer), play, eat, play, and sleep. Repeat.

I was a total water baby -- I was even on the swim team for about 1/4 season when I was 5 or 6; my sister was a CRAZY fast swimmer (she always got the pennies my mom threw), and I was my sister's little sister - so I did everything she did (much to her chagrin). When she joined swim team, so did I. (Much to her chagrin, I imagine.) And I did the backstroke, because it was easy for me to float because of my big baby Belly. She quit after 1/4 season because it was cold in the mornings when we went to practice. I quit because she quit. Too bad. I might have been fast...

Back to the race. I'm nervous, but excited. Last night we had an open water swim class, and practiced beach starts -- and I remembered quickly what it feels like to start out too fast. (Not good, if you know what I mean.) I'm going to keep that in mind on Sunday -- not to start out too fast. Slow and steady will bring Belly to the beach much faster...

So, I'm pumped to get up there, to relax under the stars, to breathe fresh air and to sleep uninterrupted (Idgy the Cat loves her momma, and often snuggles up a liiittttleee too close). I will, of course, post some photos of the weekend and the Race when I get a chance. Wish me luck!

Good luck to all racers...

Belly

Magellan Half Marathon Race Report (a/k/a) "Why You Should NEVER Sit on the Bus Stop Benches" (a/k/a) "Sweaty Belly" (a/k/a) "Puke Fest Finish"

2009-06-24T06:15:00.008-05:00

*Updated, with newly cropped photos to give you the real sense of what it must be like to finish a race and puke in your hands.

The Magellan 1/2 Marathon's inaugural race was held last month (May) -- so I'm late with my post, but better late than never, right?

I wasn't planning on doing a 1/2 Marathon this year -- other than during Steelhead, but I actually WON this race entry. So I thought -- why not! It'll give me a leg up in training, and it's been two years since I did a 1/2, and I'd probably PR my time ... by a lot (last 1/2 Marathon was 2:19).

And so, I went about "training" -- but in the winter months, I usually run long, so it wasn't a big deal. Not a whole lot of speedwork, but I did do a few tempos, etc. I was hoping (a super secret special wish) that I could break 2:00. That's fast for me -- my body realllly likes 10:00 miles, so an average in the low 9:00s is asking her to do a lot.

Anyhoo -- the day of the race arrives. I wake up, get myself all psyched up, and get ready. I was sortof fluffing around the house, multiple trips to the 'lou, etc. Finally, I realized that, depending upon the parking situation, I might be running a little late. (I had planned on leaving about an hour and a half before the race -- the race site is only about 15 minutes from my house.) I grabbed my bread, and met SJV down at the car. We left at about T-1:20 from the race.

We got down to where the parking was supposed to be ... and holy confusing. The directions were all discombobulated, and we were left scratching our heads. Minutes were ticking by, and my anxiety level was through the roof. Which is sortof silly, since this was a chip-timed race. But, the mind does what the mind does, right? Luckily, buddy Carrie and I had run the route once before, so I had an idea of where we should go. SJV and I flew down Michigan Ave., where there was a nice-sized traffic jam -- cars that were packed with runners trying to get to the parking garage. SJV and I sat in that traffic jam for what seemed like forever -- me trying to downplay the fact that we were now 1/2 hour from the race time, and that I really, really had to go to the bathroom. Like, really.

*side note, and the rationale behind why I suggest you should NEVER sit on bus stop benches* As we slooooowly moved up the street, I looked over to my right, and saw a man who appeared to be high, or drunk, or a combination of the two (probably a combination of the two) bent over at the bus stop bench, trying to pick something up. Or wait -- he wasn't trying to pick something up at all.... wait a second .... are his pants down? His Pants are Down? What the ...?

There was the man, pants down and derriere exposed, straining with all his might ... to poop!! I kid you not -- the guy was taking a poo ON the bus stop bench. Or at least he was trying to -- in front of at least 100 cars, and racers walking about two feet from him. I gasped, and did a girlie *eek!* - and pointed it out to SJV. SJV's eyes got wide, and his mouth gaped open, and then he started laughing (it was funny, after all) and trying to take a picture (we did not get that photo -- in part because we didn't really want him to focus on us, as we were only about 10 feet from him). SJV also said that it looked like he had a rectal prolapse (sounds painful) so I hope he got some assistance for that. It was certainly an interesting way to start the morning -- for me and for the people who saw him from up close and personal as they walked past. (It was almost entertaining to see the looks on people's faces as they realized what he was doing.)

*end note*

Okay - so SJV and I were now sufficiently past the bus stop guy, but we were also about 20 minutes from race time, and about a 1/2-1/4 mile from the race start, and not even close to the parking garage. We decided that I should just jump out and get to the start so I could hit the port-o-pottie (I'm less interested in using a bus stop for my bathroom needs). I gave him a smooch, and off I went.

Once I hit the race site, I had about 10 minutes 'till the start. I got in a HUGE line for the port-o-pottie, and waited. And waited. There were hundreds of us in line, so I figured they'd wait -- but they didn't. The race gun went off, and we were still waiting in line. (SJV took this photo of the race start -- you might be able to see all the people in the lines by the blue port-o-potties.) *sigh* But, it was a chip-timed race, so I figured that I'd start when I was ready, and knew I'd be in good company -- a lot of people were still parking their cars.

Besides, I got to see SJV -- who I saw walking down from the parking garage. He snapped a few photos of me yelling to him...

See! There I am!

...and of me at the port-o-pottie line. So, after a smooch from my Sugar, I was ready for the start of the race. I had the starting line to myself, and I enjoyed it!

(Notice my start time -- 11:04.) My goal, as I told you, was to break 2:00 - but I wanted to be conservative, and to take it consistently. The race course is on the lakefront, and there can be a lot of traffic on that path, so I was going to Bring My Patience, especially since I was now started BEHIND the back of the packers. I had solid splits -- I was holding steady, and the weather was perfect for a race. Absolutely perfect. I saw SJV at about the three mile mark:

So far, so good!

And I saw him again at the 6 or 8 mile mark, where I gave him my jacket. When I did that, he snapped a photo that shows how sweaty Belly gets. It's pretty gross, actually, and SJV teases me (lovingly, of course, even though he's honestly pretty grossed out by it) about it all the time. I can honestly wring out a shirt after I'm done running or biking (a great parlor trick!), and my hair will get so wet that my ponytail will start to fling sweat drops from one side to another, in time with my cadence. Cyclists that ride too close to me have gotten a sweaty pony-tail lashing from me in the past, which I figure is a Good Punishment for being such a doofus and riding so close. I've grossed out folks at the gym, I've REALLY grossed out people at Bikram Yoga, and I've amazed SJV with it -- he's now adamant about me taking salt tabs because of my Prolific Persperation.

Exhibit A. Note the soaking of the shirt, after only 6-8 miles, and in high 60 degree weather. The hair's not yet soaked, but it's getting there.

Okay, back to the race report. So, other than having to dodge a person or two, and to slow my pace to account for some folks that were enjoying a leisurely jog, I was doing really well. My heart rate was pretty steady, and I was feeling good. I knew that the last three miles I was going to have to pick it up, and I felt like I could. So I did.

And I have never, ever felt like how I did in the last three miles during a race - I pushed myself to a whole new level. Every step of the last mile, or 1/2 mile, my legs were telling me that they wanted to stop, and my head was telling me that it was okay to stop if I wanted to, but my heart said that it was NOT going to allow that, and the rest of me should just be quiet for 5 minutes or so. And so, I put my head down, put one foot in front of the other, and went for broke. The last 1/4 or 1/8 of a mile went through a tunnel-ish thingy, and then up the other side. Wouldn't seem like a "hill" any time other than in the last 1/8 mile of a race, but let me tell you -- that was the hardest thing to see at the end. And I knew I was close -- I might make it, if I really hit it hard. So, the last 1/4 of a mile, I really busted it. I passed this person, and then that person, and then was running down the final stretch... Running hard -- all-out-sprint -- push-push-push!

And then I was done. And sucking air.

I wasn't the only one -- SJV said that there was a veritable puke-fest. He inadvertently caught it on camera:

See the guy on the right, with his hand by his face? Gatorade puke, I think. Here's a close-up to gross you out.

Nice of him to try to catch it, eh? I think this guy should win an award for a seriously hard core finishing photo, don't you? Now, analyzing it a bit, that looks like pure gatorade to me (rather than, say, pasta). Maybe they mixed it too strong that day or something (I bring my own) but SJV said that there was lots of barfing. I'm telling you -- that "hill" was a killer! Bravo, Mr. 1343, for being such a hard core athlete! Rock on, my friend. Next time, bring pepto.

In any event, I looked down at my watch: 2:00:42. Yay and boo at the same time -- I HIT 2:00! But I didn't break 2:00. Still, I'm super happy with my time, and I did the best I could do. Plus, I had almost a 20 minute PR. Not bad. Not bad at all, if I do say so. I'll take it...

So, there's my extremely late Magellan 1/2 Marathon Race Report. Good race, good spectators, lots of people -- so bring your patience. Other than the parking situation, it was a good race. Next year, I'd take a cab. ;)

Race well!

Belly

The Story of Belly

2009-06-23T16:58:00.002-05:00

I've gotten a number of questions, recently, from folks who wonder when and how I started to train. It's a long and circuitous story. I hope you can stick with me until the end. I may need installments.

*Ahem.*

A long time ago (grade school, high school) I was a pretty active kid. I remember putting on shoes and going for a run before running was cool -- and before there were shoes that could support a girl's feet. So, at least in my early days, I associated running with Fun but also with Pain (my knees would actually be purple when I'd finish a run). I was in soccer, and cheerleading, and volleyball -- and wanted to be in cross country; but I was told that I needed to Choose My Sports Wisely, because my knees were Weak (because of said purplish hue).

After high school, I went off to college -- and then to law school -- and I learned how to be sedentary. I became a Certified Smoker. I ate ramen noodles and mac n' cheese, and I loved every minute of it -- the starving student, sustained by caffeine (literally multiple pots of coffee in a day) and nicotine and knowledge.

I was a total idiot, obviously.

I then embarked on a career in the law. I worked. Hard. But I worked at two amazing law firms, where I learned a lot about the law and about myself. More about myself than the law, frankly. I learned, for example, that I was not good at setting my own boundaries. It would not be unheard of for someone to call me at 5:00 on a Friday and ask for my help on a project -- and for me to say yes, and to spend the weekend working. It was also not unheard of for me to be out of town for weeks on end, or for me to be at the office until 12:00, 1:00, even 4:00 in the morning.

That changed, obviously.

Almost three years ago now (can it be that long ago?), a friend/acquaintance of mine joined a Learn to Run program to lose weight. You might be familiar with it -- in the first week you walk for three minutes and run two, then after a week or two walk for 2 minutes and run for 3, and then walk for 1 minute and run for 4, etc. etc. She needed a training partner, and asked (well, really, pressured) me to run with her in the mornings.

I told her that she was crazy: In the course of working so hard, I had amassed a number of stress related ailments. I had a bad back, bad knees, weak ankles, and I hadn’t done any strenuous activity (outside of lugging a suitcase for an overnight deposition) in years. I had frequent back spasms, heart palpitations (I wore a heart monitor at age 27 because of arrhythmia caused, they think, by stress and caffeine) and I had been a smoker for nearly 15 years. But, even with all the protesting, I figured it would be helpful for her to have some company.

And so, one August morning, I went out to the lakefront path that I really had never been on much before, and hoped that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. Much to my amazement, I loved it. I was going at a 12:30 minute per mile pace, sure, but I could still do it. Soon (very soon -- as in, within mere days) my friend tired of the program and dropped out, but I kept on using her training plan – loving the improvement and the new energy. Every month I got faster (not hard to do when you start so slowly) without trying, and went further down the lakefront path. When people asked how fast I went, I would respond that it didn't matter, and I wasn't trying to go faster; who would want to make something so fun end so soon?

And my attitude (about life, about time, about work) changed - dramatically. Soon I was taking hours to run on the lakefront -- hours when I didn't have my blackberry perched on the table next to me, humming away when a new request arrived. Hours when it was me, and my feet, and my heart, and my head. A whole new world opened up for me. I began to appreciate the sunrises again, and the geese that I saw during every run, and the changes of the seasons ... I suppose you could say that I finally found some peace.

And, much to my complete amazement, my back stopped aching; my ankles strengthened; my knees no longer seized up; the heart palpitations ended; and the back spasms ceased altogether. Six months after starting to run, I quit smoking for good. I’ve now done races ranging in distance from a 5k to the Chicago Marathon, and pretty much everything in between. I even led a training group for a 10 mile race -- and that was when I learned that I actually enjoy training other people more than training myself. Motivating one particular runner, and making her race strong, was a wonderful goal. And she rocked the race (as did I, actually).

In December 2007, after having been an official Runner for about a year and a half, I decided to Expand My Horizons and Meet Some People. I signed up with the yahoo meetup running group, and promised to meet them at the lakefront path in front of the totem pole (you may know where that is). At 8:00 a.m., there I stood -- waiting around, asking one runner after another "are you the yahoo meetup group?" and getting the same response: "nope." So, I went to a parking lot behind the totem pole, and saw 6 sinewy tall runners. Again, "are you the yahoo meetup group?" - answer "nope. but you can run with us if you want"... I shuffled away - I couldn't keep up with them, and I knew it. I approached a few others, and was met with disappointment, as I realized that I wasn't going to Meet Any People that day. I was almost embarrassed -- nobody really wanted to run with me.

Then, I saw a group of about 20 runners trotting by in groups of two or three, all smiling and chatting with one another, looking to be the picture of heath and friendship combined -- I yelled "are YOU the yahoo meetup group?" and I heard the response "Who are they?" and "C'mon - run with us!"

I had two seconds - maybe only one - to decide. They look like they're going my pace. Maybe faster. But maybe I can keep up? Can I keep up? Aaaak! I took a deep breath, and hopped in line, running about as fast as I could at the time just to keep up with them. I met one after another of them, as they took turns striding next to me, hearing my story, and bringing me into the fold. They are called the Clocktower Runners, and they continue to be the source of great friendship. Amazing people.

That split second decision - to run with the CRs, also changed my life. A few months after starting to run with the group, I took a new job that I got through the contacts that I made while running. I now work more normal hours -- hours that let me train to my heart's content. And, even more importantly, tThrough that group, I met SJV, my amazing boyfriend and an amazing triathlete. He encouraged me to try a triathlon, and I loved it from the very first race. Our Story is even more special than The Story of Belly, and I will indeed save that one for its own special post.

But hopefully this post helps you to understand why triathlon and running and training in general is so important to me -- why and how it has brought me to this wonderful and peaceful place in my life, and why I want everyone to see what it can do for them. And hopefully you can also see that if you're not happy where you are right now, you can change. I'm living proof, after all. Less than three years ago, I was a smoker/drinker/work-a-holic/stress case.

Today I'm ... well ... Belly.

Enjoy the ride.
Belly

T Minus 5 (and counting)

2009-06-23T10:46:00.002-05:00

My first race of the season, an A-race, is this Sunday. *gulp*

And so, of course, I have butterflies in my stomach, and hopes and dreams of how I might do (how I WILL do - I tell myself) and how much fun SJV and I will have. I've spent the better part of the last few months getting my body trained, and my mind trained (sometimes harder to train than my body), and this weekend will be a fun test of how the new training program is going.

And so, because there's a "test" coming up, I have a wee bit of the nerves jangling around. Perfectly normal -- I always had butterflies before a show, or a performance, or a big oral argument. But I keep reminding myself that nerves are good -- if you didn't have a little nervous energy you would be "flat" and have no real motivation to be your best. So I'll take the butterflies, since I know they'll give me some oompha come Sunday morning.

And, I've got to admit that even if I blow up on the bike, or the run, or even the swim (though I really hope I can last at least until the bike!) I'm still darned proud of my training thus far this year. I've now gotten used to my new pedals (and yes, I have fallen... more funny stories on that later); I'm nearly used to the aerobars (though I'm using a bit of a training-wheel mentality with them); I'm hydrating better on the bike than ever before (thanks to SJV and his amazing Present of the Speedfill -- GREATEST invention of the century); I'm feeling better about my swim-stroke (more funny/inspirational stories on that later); and I'm just generally more ... Confident.

And isn't that really what this is supposed to be all about, anyway? I mean, aren't we really all going out there and stretching ourselves -- reaching beyond what we normally do (frankly, what normal people normally do) and testing our own limits? That's what I see as the fun of it -- walking around with the satisfaction that you were out on your bike for X hours -- that it was you, and your feet, and your heart that got you from point A to point B -- that you achieved that thing, on that day. That's a serious confidence boost -- and it's something that nobody can take away from you.

So, this last weekend I totaled the miles that SJV and I traveled with our own two feet and our hearts on Sunday alone -- 50 miles -- and I was pretty excited about that. There are lots of people that go further, and lots of people that go faster -- but to me, 50 miles is pretty fantastic indeed.

Travel safely,
Belly

Highlights

2009-03-17T07:08:00.004-05:00

So, I got my hair cut the other day (it's spring, and I felt like getting a few inches taken off just to ... well ... lighten things up a bit). I went back to work the next day, and one of my co-workers noticed right away (always nice) -- but then she said "oh! you got highlights, too!"

Ummmm, no.

That is actually gray hair. *sigh* But, I've been going gray since 16 (no lie), and -- as my coworker pointed out -- my gray is actually quite pretty, and can be easily mistaken for highlights.

So I quickly moved on, and then spent some time this weekend shuffling through some photos of me from seven years ago to send to some former co-workers. They wanted some photos from around the time I worked for them, and I was pleasantly surprised when I started sifting through those old photos (well, perhaps it's better said that I was pleasantly surprised with the comparison between me now and me then). I'm certainly in better shape now than I was then (I was fairly unhealthy then -- I certainly didn't eat enough).

So, just for kicks, here's belly in 2001:

Have a bright and sunny day, everyone!

belly

Peek-a-boo!

2009-03-14T07:38:00.005-05:00

Welcome to the weekend, everyone!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Friday, and is gearing up for the gorgeous weekend. The sun is peeking around the corner of the window (get it? Peek-a-boo? Yeah. Dorky. I know. Sorry. *sheepish grin, shuffle*), and it looks to be a fantastical day (minus the St. Patrick's Day revelers, which make things a bit dicey here in Chi-town). I'm going to train later today, after I'm done with some meetings in the morning, but wanted to post and say howdy-do before heading out. Idgy The Cat says hello, as you can see, and hopes that soon mommy gives back the trainer that she "borrowed" (ahem...) from SJV. (It's super quiet, but makes a sufficient amount of noise that she has to move her napping location -- which, for the Idgster, is less than optimal.) SJV is going to his swim class (he's SUPER fast now!) this morning, and I'm going to try to talk him into waiting to run with me later. We'll have to dodge any puke (from the revelers) but I do have some St. Patrick's Day shamrock bobbley-ear-thingys that I can wear to be Festive during our run. Might be cute...

So, I hope all of you get a chance to get out and enjoy the sunshine. It's been a long hibernation, hasn't it? I don't know about you, but this Belly has gotten a bit bigger over the winter season...

Sunnily yours,

Belly

Gimme Some (Much Needed) Socks, Dude!

2009-03-08T10:17:00.003-05:00

So, folks, I have entered Steve in a Speedo's Tales of a Virgin Athlete Contest. I'm hoping to win some new drymax socks -- SJV has been pleading with me to get some new socks (my toes have taken it upon themselves to make the socks a bit more ... breathable. So I have holes in my socks. *sigh*) and this is a way for me to share some great stories and get myself some seriously solid socks. Wish me luck!

Here's the "extended version" of the story that I gave to Steve. The contest rules require 300 words or less, so I slashed and slashed until the story fit. But, for you, I include the Whole Story. Bon Appetit!

It was February 2007, six months after I started running, when I landed in San Juan, Puerto Rico. A busy career dominated my life; I hadn't taken a vacation in three years. So, I was a little surprised when I decided to run in the World's Best 10k, and go to San Juan -- completely alone.

I checked in at the race's sponsored hotel, after a Kenyan and his coach. I spent the weekend wandering the beach, going to the expo and getting autographs from more Kenyans.

We had been warned to arrive on time for the bus that would get us to the race. (Although plentiful, cabs couldn't take you to the race location.) So, on race afternoon, I went down to the pickup location, a busy street frequented by "friendly" locals, right on time. And I waited. And waited. While boys in el-caminos cat-called, and hollered things that I'm probably lucky I didn't understand. Finally, 20 minutes later, I went back up to the hotel, and learned that the buses had come early. So, I was stuck. I had come all the way from Chicago to miss the race because the bus driver came five minutes earlier. I was crushed.

I then saw three people with race shirts on. Fellow stranded racers! I went to them, explained we had missed the bus, and asked if they knew of any other means of transport to the race.

Then the escalade came around the corner of the hotel.

The three "fellow stranded racers" were the CFO of the main sponsor of the race and his top staff, and they had special race "backstage passes". They offered to give me a lift, and I gratefully accepted. Sweet!

The race was fantastic, but the whole time I ran, I wondered how I would get home. It was dark when we finished, and I was worried. I got through the finisher's chute, and saw a tall gringo-looking guy who was speaking english. "Excellent! I'll ask him where to meet the buses." I did, and he said he was waiting for his fellow triathletes to finish (he was part of a triathlete club -- perhaps a prediction of things to come?), but that they would walk me to the buses. He took a photo of me while we waited, and chatted, and soon his friend Luna met with us. We walked to where the buses would pick me up, and just as I was getting ready to fight the crowds for a seat on one of the buses (which were parked in grassy, bushy, scary areas in the dark of an underpass) they suggested something much more fun. Luna's family was having a BBQ, and they lived just up the road. Would I want to come and be their guest? After a minute or two of cajoling, I continued my walk with them -- my finisher's medal around my neck, and two new friends on either side. So, I spent the evening eating authentic Puerto Rican BBQ, singing "feliz cumpleanos" to her neice, and listening to the frogs chip in their backyard.

It was, indeed, the worlds' best 10k. But the world's worst photo (see below).

A New Year!

2009-02-19T06:55:00.004-06:00

Well, folks, I woke up this morning realizing that it had been nearly four months since my last post.

Ooops. *grin*

I've been enjoying the time off from training hard -- had a wonderful Thanksgiving and Christmas with SJV down with my mother in Missouri. In fact, we ran the inaugural Turkey Trot 5k in Mom's little town, which was super fantastic. Of course, there were hills - which threw both SJV and I off a bit. But still, I did pretty well - came in Fourth! *sigh* When, oh when, will I end up on the podium!

Christmas was super as well - although I caught a mighty cold, and was less than excited about that. But what I was excited about: new pedals and shoes for my bike! Yes, SJV got me the Ultimate Gift: speed! (Or, at least, the inability to blame my bike setup for my lack thereof.)

So now, hopefully, I'll be able to whip past at least some people on the bike. (A girl can dream, you know.)

To that end, I've already started on this year's training. For the past few weeks, I've been amping up - so maybe you, too, are gearing up for the coming season. I have to say that it's added a little motivation, and a little hope, to the winter days. It's a great way for me to remind myself that soon -- very soon -- I'll be out on the lakefront path in 80 degree temps. After the winter we've had, that's a welcome thought!

And, with that, I leave you with a few photos from the past few months. Turkey Trot and Christmas have to wait -- still need to transfer those from SJV's camera. But these are from our Halloween celebration - both at home and in Montreal, where we spent a long weekend, and from our trip to Atlanta, where we met up with my sister and fam.

Such a cute family...

Elijah and Jay after our trip to see the fishies...

Our very own Idgy the Cat, who decided that she really liked the pumpkin that SJV carved (such a good job!).

Montreal. Oui oui! SJV's such a great photographer...

Look at that cute couple!

Bad angle for me, but fun photo!

Sorry for the very, very, very late post, and hope all of you are training hard.

Let's get going!

Belly.

Marathon Race Report Posting

2008-11-11T16:05:00.002-06:00

Interestingly, and oddly, my marathon race report posted under the date that I started it (the draft date) rather than today's date. If you want to read it in its massive glory, it's posted down below!

Happy trails!
Belly

Starting Over.

2008-11-04T14:56:00.002-06:00

I went on my first post-marathon run today.

A gorgeous day in the high '60s (when I started out), with trees still holding on to those last fall leaves -- yellow and red and a few green. As you may recall (it's been a while, folks -- I know) I've had some major ITB issues since The Marathon. Well, since the 18 miler in Marathon Training. It's not totally subsided -- and after three weeks of sitting still, I was beginning to spin in my head a little. Actually, I was spinning a lot.

So, about a week and a half ago, I took myself to Athletico to get an injury screening. Alex, who both settled and entertained me (which is not easy at 7:30 a.m.) assured me that it was "only" ITB -- nothing permanent, and that Someday, One Of These Days, I would be able to walk stairs (or just walk) without pain. And she encouraged me to do the exercises that she prescribed, but also to try to get back out on the path as soon as I felt able. (She also cautioned me to Be Smart this time, and stop if something hurts.)

Over the weekend in Montreal (ooh la la! oui! oui!) SJV and I walked... and walked ... and walked... And even though my leg let me hear about it, it didn't complain long into the night. So this morning I thought was the perfect day to try to run again. The last three non-running weeks have been the longest that I've not run since I started two years ago, so it was actually a little emotional when I put on my shoes, my Chicago Marathon hat (seriously earned that one...) and my favorite fall running jacket. I-pod in tow playing a little Iron & Wine... And off I went into the fall colors and robin's-egg-blue-sky that I otherwise could only admire through my window.

I was careful -- very, very careful. And I'm trying a new running form/style (Chi-running, for those that are curious) that seems to help. I ran a smokingly fast time for being out for three weeks and still being injured, and I only ran 1.5 miles. But I ran. I got to feel the ground under my feet, and the breeze on my face, the sun on my skin... it was exactly what I needed.

But it's clear that I'm starting over -- I was more winded than I normally would be, and this new form will take time to get used to. So it's good that it's The Off Season, and that now I can focus on form rather than speed, and the love of the outdoors rather than the PR.

More on Montreal soon, and maybe someday I'll post that Marathon Race Report. It's a hard one to write...

Pace yourself,
B

Marathon Race Report!

2008-10-21T07:13:00.014-05:00

So, finally, after more than a week (or two, or, actually three... well, actually, a MONTH), I'm writing my first ever Marathon Race Report. I think it takes this long, frankly, to come to terms with the distance. There are a lot of miles and experiences to process. Plus -- I'm not shy in saying that my body gave me a bit of a kick back, so I've been working out quite a few kinks. The kinks that started in my leg ended up in my head, and I did quite a bit of spinning (mentally) about this ITB injury.

Perhaps the best way to recap the marathon is with photos -- and SJV provided plenty of gorgeous ones for your review. Bless him for being so patient the entire day -- it was a hot one for runners and for spectators alike, but he and Connie (my amazing buddy) were there around every corner.

And a HUGE thank you to Reed and Vickie -- my amazing friends who happen to be my next-door-neighbors (boy did I ever luck out!). Vik ran about a mile with me, and Reed ran about 15. His company was so wonderful -- particularly since he had to slow wayyyyy wayyyyy down to hang with the likes of an Injured Belly. Still, I was glad that we had multiple hours to chill.

I'll begin from the beginning -- the day before at the Expo. SJV and I headed down to the expo to pick up our numbers and such -- even though SJV wasn't planning on running, he still needed to pick up his goodie bag, etc. Great swag -- and the expo was pretty fantastic. We both got to hold a gold medal! See?

Then, we went over to the pacer area to say howdy to some folks we know who were running the pacer groups. I toyed with signing up for a group -- I decided that it would be cool to have one of those nifty temporary tattoos to help you keep on pace. Now, I had said (many, many times) that I wasn't going to "race" this one -- just run and jog and walk, and generally do whatever my left leg would allow. But my ego was beginning to remind the rest of me that we really could go faster if we wanted... and so we compromised and got a temporary tattoo for 5:00 -- a really slow marathon for what I knew I was capable of. So, that decision made, we started to go through the rest of the pacer line. That's when we saw our friend Lora (super-fantastic runner and the 5:45 pacer) who was chillin' with another pacer.

(Adorable photo, guys!) Lora had a great time at the marathon -- sounds like she did incredibly well, and really enjoyed herself. Fantastic!

We left them, mingled around a bit, and got our stuff.

Then we went home, and I started to set up. I put medical tape on my favorite running shirt, and started to write "Belly" across my chest. (Note the Stick in the photo -- I have not been far from that little piece of equipment for some time, now...)

Here's the completed product...

A note: the tape worked well, but next time I'm going to secure it with some safety pins. It kept rolling up, (at the end, people were yelling for "Kelly" because they couldn't see the top of the "B" anymore) so that I finally had to just rip it off. End note.

So, the night before the marathon, SJV and I had pasta at home -- no way was I going to chance it with a restaurant. That's the nice thing about having a race that's in your backyard! Marathon morning, I got up early (5:30 -- not that early when you consider that for tri's we have to actually be there at 6:00 or earlier) got on my Belly shirt, put on my tatt,

and we made our way to the train to get us downtown. And downtown was pretty packed with people, all going to the marathon.

It was a pretty, pretty morning - although it warm, the sky was beautiful, and the sunrise! Well, it was a really gorgeous sight.

SJV and I got to Grant Park by 7:15 -- perfect. Not so early that I would sit around and hear other people freaking out (because let me tell you -- I was getting SUPER nervous right around this time). And not so late that I would be rushed. I hate being rushed. But ... we didn't quite understand where the tent for my training group was. And there were no (seriously ZERO) signs telling us that we couldn't get there from here... or from there... or from over there... Pretty soon it was 7:30, and I was sweating a bit. Then, 7:45 -- still looking for the tent. Fifteen minutes from the start, and we were still looking for where I could put my gear...

The group had told us that there would be porta-potties for us right by the tent, so I held off using the facilities, knowing that there would be fresh potties and toilet paper... (SJV and I had joked that this was the one and only time when we wouldn't have to worry about bringing our own, actually. For all tri's and for other distance road races, we always carry a spare roll... just in case.)

Finally, around 7:50, and after having walked for the better part of an hour (yes, I was very aggravated, and SJV was mad, too) we found the tent and porta potties -- sans t.p.! I KNOW! I was aggravated. SJV, not daunted by this hiccup, got me some paper towels. And then, we hot-footed it to the starting line. I honestly think we had, like, 10 minutes to get me in line. On the way, a nice photographer took this photo:

Isn't that cute?

Note that I am holding one foot up, sortof. That's because my leg was already hurting from walking so much. More on that later.

We got closer to the start, and I had to kiss SJV goodbye. I was super nervous, and annoyed that I was "late" (even though you can't really be late for a chip-timed race) and wanting to get in my "zone" (if you can have a zone even when you know you aren't really going to "race"). So, I waved him goodbye.

And off I was. There are a lot of folks in this marathon. Exhibit A:

Holy frijoles! Lots of peeps. So, I started off toward them, thinking that I'd go to the 5:00 hour folks and see what that did for me. I was shocked when I had enough time to do that (I was still anxious from thinking I was going to be "late"), and then we just sortof started shuffling forward, really slowly. It was then that, lo and behold! SJV found me! If that's not a testament to us being eerily aware of the other, I don't know what is. I was super happy to see him:

I had given him a very quick kiss goodbye, and missed him immediately after walking away. Now I figured I had a second chance, so I took it! We walked together for a while:

And stood by each other (and by some folks that looked like they had just woken up...)

And then, pretty soon, the line really started to move, and I knew we were going to be off. SJV had said that he was going to meet me at 10 (or so), at 14, 16 and at 22 (or so). Best Bud Connie was going to join him. I knew it was going to be a tough day. I was looking forward to seeing them as often as possible... Next door neighbor and rabbit runner Reed was going to meet me at 10 with SJV, and run with me for a few miles. I was really, really looking forward to that.

So off I went -- by myself, and without my i-pod (which I forgot in my gear bag, which I checked at the tent in the mad dash to get to the starting line). Now, I know that they're not allowed on the course, but c'mon! Anyhoo, all I could hear was the pitter patter of running feet...

Mile one down, and my leg already hurt like a son-of-a-gun. Those first few miles were, for me, more thoughtful and contemplative than the last twenty. I ran by the building where I had both my first and second jobs, the river-boat pier where I boarded a dinner-cruise boat during my first trip to Chicago, the building where I have my current job... all I could think of was what a strange path these past few years have taken, and how much I appreciate all of it.

Of course, that was all punctuated by my leg screaming every now and again. As much as I had promised myself that I would stop and stretch every mile or so, it was so packed that doing so was like taking my life into my own hands. So I wasn't as good at stretching it in the beginning.

We got into River North, and I was running with the BatMan crew -- group of about six folks dressed like Batman, Robin, the Joker -- you get the picture. I took their camera and took a photo of them running together -- very cute photo, and i wish I had a copy! Leg still hurting (that's pretty much a constant through this marathon, unfortunately).

The other constant through this marathon was the heat -- it was starting to get warmer by this time in the race. I was still keeping a great pace -- definitely within a 5:00 hour time frame, and I was still pretty confident that even with the leg I'd make it well under 5:00.

Up to North Avenue, and let me tell you how great it was to hear music. As I neared North Avenue, I could hear U2 on some really great loudspeakers, and felt a huge surge of energy. Amazing, really, what some good music can do.

And in we go, into the park. Lots of water, and the heat's just creeping up. Now we were starting to move toward my 'hood, and I hoped that I'd see some people I knew. The crowds are usually huge in Lakeview, and I was counting on that for some much needed motivation.

Rounding the corner on Addison, there are HUGE crowds of people, including the boystown cheerleaders (yay!) and I was laughing for most of this stretch. My leg was honestly killing me, and I was limping pretty good.

But there were little kids holding out their hands to give you a high five, and everyone was yelling "GO BELLY? Belly? Was that her name...?" It was cracking me up.

But the fact of the matter: I got some cheers. And I needed them...

At the end of my street in Lakeview, I saw Vik -- amazing athlete and great friend (wife of Reed, the rabbit runner). I was SO glad to see her! And she popped out of the crowd and ran with me for about a mile. She was super positive, and I needed that, too. I learned later that I hadn't hidden how bad my leg felt from her (even though I thought I had) and that she was a little worried that I wouldn't finish. Honestly, so was I.

But I did get to tell her that, had it not been for her and Reed, there would be no way that I could have changed my life in the way that I have -- two years ago I was a smoker that didnt' run at all. Now I was completing a marathon, and I owed a good bit of that transformation to her and Reed. It was great to have that time with her, and i was sad to see her have to go. But I was also glad to have some solitary time, and to go through Old Town now.

I ran through some really beautiful areas in Chicago on this stretch -- Lincoln Park and Old Town are really fantastic, and it kept my mind off the leg. I wasn't even paying attention to the miles, to be honest -- I knew that it was going to be a long day...

But, pretty soon, I popped out on North Avenue again, and started looking for SJV and Reed and Connie. I thought that I ran by them, and was getting ready to run backwards to find them, when I saw them just ahead. SJV had a special needs bag for me, and dipped into it for some special cream that does a great job of soothing the leg. Honestly, that worked wonders, and after a kiss and a hug, Reed and I took off for points south.

Right about here is when Reed thought that I wasn't going to make it. I was limping along, my gait had changed, and I probably should have just said enough was enough. But, as I had said before, I had run a 20 mile run, and I would have been damned not to get a medal after all was said and done. I was determined. Sometimes the heart beats the head.

I was super glad to hit the half-way, and then remembered that the race starts at halfway. *Sigh* Oh -- and by this time, I was slipping from my hoped finishing time. And it was getting really hot. Really, really hot on the pavement. I wavered between worrying if I was getting enough to drink and worrying if I was drinking too much.

Reed and I stopped a lot to stretch and drink... and right around the halfway point is when I threw in the towel on my finishing time goal, and lo and behold: my leg magically stopped hurting. So, that was one major positive. The other was having Reed keeping me company. Honestly, an amazing runner and a great guy to keep you company during a long run (or at any time, really.)

At 14 or so, we saw SJV (I was really looking forward to that...)

Frankly, I think these are both from 14, but they may be from 16 -- like I said, I got the miles all jumbled in my head...

And Reed was going to take off and leave me at mile 16. He had already run 5 with a friend of ours, and he hadn't been doing a whole lot of training. So this was quite a bit of running (even though he's Elite Level). We came up on SJV and Connie at mile 16, took a nice chit chat break, and then started off again. Reed then said that he'd run with me until he found a good L station or something to take him home. That would be around chinatown, which we both thought was in two miles.

Um, no. Chinatown was a good 4-5 miles from there. *sigh* Again, totally unaware of my surroundings.

And this was when it started to get blazingly hot. There are reports that signs said it was 92, but in any case, on the pavement in the sun (no shade at this point) it was in the mid-80s, and it was very uncomfortable. So, Reed found some ice, and we put it under our hats on our heads. Very good call, and that kept us going for quite a while. We'd alternate running and walking, and just generally taking it easy.

We made it through little italy, and through Pilsen -- right around there I got a bit light-headed and started to feel a little funny. We slowed and drank some water, and took it even easier from that point. I was convinced that I was going to finish -- my leg didn't hurt so long as I took it easy, and I just wanted that medal. I craved it.

Chinatown was great -- a much needed energy boost, with big crowds and chinese dragons. Very cool. As an added plus, I had watched the marathon for years at that spot, and I had had visions of that portion of the race during my long runs. Now I was doing it -- and I was darned proud.

I figured thta Reed would stop off at that point, but to my surprise and delight, he stayed, saying that SJV was going to meet me at 22-23, and he might as well run that far, too. I had the feeling that he was worried about me -- which was wonderful and horrible at the same time. I was NOT going to be pulled off of this course in a stretcher.

SJV was going to run me in from 22-23, and I was very excited abuot that. In my head, I had planned on how we would run it together, and how special it would be when he was with me for it. We got to mile 22-23, and I saw SJV, and he still had on jeans. I was super disappointed, so I sortof barked at him a bit -- how was he going to run in jeans? I thought he was going to run with me! Best Bud Connie was also there, and SJV said that they hadn't had time to change, and did I really want him to run... there was a bit of discussion, and he said that he would. I was then happy, but wish that I would have noticed that my blood sugar was a little wonky (or I was just honestly tired) which was why I was so cranky at him just then. In any case, I still hadn't hit the wall, and was having a pretty good time. I figured that there were only a few miles left, and that wasnt' any big deal at all.

Of course, it was still unbearably hot. But Reed found some more ice, so I put some in my head to show John how I looked like a cone-head:

And we went along, alternating running and walking, and generally hanging together. John would run ahead and take photos (again, not what I had envisioned in my head) and then run back, and then head off again -- I tried to keep up with him, trying to go faster than I should, and then I'd bonk and start walking. *Sigh* And around 25 was when my blood sugar and attitude got the better of me, and I told John No More Photos. He captured it on camera:

It was pretty funny, really -- he saw the humor in it, and totally understood what I was going through (having done two marathons, he's been there himself). And before I knew it, Reed was waving goodbye at mile 26 (that's right, folks -- he ran 21 miles of the marathon!). Then it was SJV that waved goodbye, and kissed me good luck. Then I was off, to my final goal of running up the hill to the finish line, and to run it in the last .2. SJV captured it:

And I was done.

I saw Paul -- amazing friend and co-worker (well, actually, boss) at the finish. He leads the pacers, and he was the one who gave me my medal and my mylar thingy. And then I had to walk -- AGAIN -- at least a mile to get my food and stuff, and then to get over to the tent. *sigh* SJV caught me before I got there (thank god) and I got a congratulatory hug and a kiss. Then we made our way over to the tent, where I saw good buddy connie:

And, in the tent, running path mayor Bob Horowitz:

And fellow running group member, Melissa:

Both Bob and Melissa had rough days, as well -- in fact, everyone's times were within 45-1:00 of what they had wanted. The heat was a lot, and it was a long day. Anyhoo, we hung out at the tent for a bit, and then we took the train home:

(That photo of me on the train is Exhibit A on why I won't allow photos to be taken of me in mylar.)

SJV and I went out to eat:

But I couldn't really eat. I tried to tell him about all the stuff that happened in the marathon, but there was too much. The one thing I could tell him was what I decided to do to my temporary tattoo after it was clear that trying to finish in 5:00 was going to kill my leg:

And that, my friends, is it. A marathon race report that gives you a taste, and a view, of what it was like for me. ;) My time is unimportant, but it was something like 5:33. I finished, and that's what matters.

Since the marathon, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and to think about what I think about thinking about it. I think the marathon is what it is: a race with a significant distance, that requires a lot of focus and drive, and a lot of luck. Four months of training come down to the conditions (both external and internal) on one day. That's a lot of pressure to put on one day...

I'm off to go for a run, or something -- thanks for listening, and good luck at the races...

One mile at a time...

belly

One With The Couch

2008-10-16T07:01:00.003-05:00

I have become One with my furniture. Specifically, my couch. I've been lounging in it so much over the past three days that it now has a perfect indentation showing where I lay back to watch t.v. -- it's always ready for me to fall back into it and snuggle down, pick up that clicker, tune in, and tune out.

It's a very buddhist feeling thing, really.

I suppose my zen-like-couch-state has been precipitated by my marathon recovery -- as this is my first marathon, I'm not 100% sure what my body is supposed to be doing at any given point. I've peppered dozens of other runners that have attempted the distance with questions over the years, and I've read dozens of articles and books about marathons and recovery, and all things related. But, at the end of the day, This Girl knows This Body better than any of those Experts do. And this body wants Couch. NOT a two mile run (my ITB would scream in protest, I'm sure) or lots of food, or some pool-time (that's for next week, we've decided), or Bikram (I've been dehydrated enough this week, thank you very much...). Couch, it tells me.

And so, Couch it is.

And tomorrow Sweet Johnny V and I take off for points south, to visit my sister and her family while SJV gives a talk/moderates a conference. I'll be in a spot where the weather is perfect for running, but I'll have to satisfy myself with a walk. Maybe a long walk on Saturday, to celebrate the 33rd year of Belly. That's right, folks! Saturday is the National-International Day of Belly. Mark it on your calendars, and make sure you do something fun that day.

Maybe some Couch...

Snoozingly yours,
Belly

The Off Season

2008-10-14T17:35:00.002-05:00

Well, here it is: The Off Season. I've been awaiting its arrival for weeks, now. I've been looking forward to working out for fun, rather than for purpose. And now, it's here.

Two days ago I ran The Chicago Marathon -- I finished, which was a feat for my poor feet, which were ready to have it over with. The day was challenging -- a high of 84 (we thought it was hot) which made for some re-calibrations of expectations. Of course, I've been in re-calibration mode all season -- with nagging injuries and shifting priorities, I went from wanting a 4:00 marathon to wanting to finish.

And I did finish.

My race report will come later, when I have all of the gorgeous photos that Sweet Johnny V took before, during, and after the race. But I wanted to let everyone know that yes, I did finish, and I'm alive and kicking, and generally healthy (although feeling dizzy and strange, which I suppose is par for the course).

My body handled the running better than I thought, but once I stopped, it started to give me some feedback that I didn't appreciate. I couldn't eat well for at least a day, which sent me into major blood sugar problems. And I couldn't sleep at all on Sunday night -- after running 26.2 miles, my body was quite confused as to what it really wanted. So, even though I went to bed pretty early, I didn't actually get to sleep until 5:30 a.m. And then I was up at 7:30. I didn't appreciate that much. I cat-napped yesterday all day, but never really caught up. If I ever attempt the marathon again, I'll have to remember what my body does and when, so that I'm not caught unawares again. And maybe next time I'll take an ambien or unisom the night that I finish...

I'm headed back to my favorite spot on the couch to relax and kick back. More to come on the race and the day...

Belly

The Final Countdown...

2008-10-11T07:28:00.003-05:00

Well, here we are. It's Saturday morning, and I've got my coffee and my pre-marathon jitters. Last night I woke up at 4:00, convinced that I had just missed the Marathon Expo, where I pick up my timing chip and bib... I didn't really go back to sleep. So here I am.

And Tomorrow Is The Marathon. 26.2 miles of running through 29 Chicago neighborhoods, and I'm going to be there. For the whole thing, I hope. For the Elvis impersonsator; for the boystown cheerleaders; for my friends in my 'hood that will hopefully be up and at the end of our street cheering me on; for the Pilsen mariachi band; for the Chinatown dragons; for the "International Mile"; for the countless childrens' outstretched hands and yells of support; and for the final stretch down Michigan Avenue that I know from word of mouth and from spectating experience is one lonely piece of road where it's just you, your feet, and your determination.

I'm hoping to finish -- nagging injuries all season have kept me from my initial goals, so now I'm wavering between signing up with a pace group and just slogging it out on my own. I fear that with a pace group, my natural inclination toward competition and pushing myself too far will take over, and I'll blow up around mile 20. Or mile 25.

And blowing up is just unacceptable. I've vowed that, no matter what, I'll finish this darn race. I've run my long runs, and I've put in the time. At 32, this summer I've gotten my body into the best shape it's ever been in, and I'm just asking it to do this one last thing before it can soften and slow down for the winter. I'm really hoping that it cooperates... But even if I have to Woman Up and walk it for the last 10, I want that medal. I've earned it.

I've got to get ready to pick up SJV and go to the expo. I'll send updates tomorrow, after the race, and in a few days I'll have some photos from Belly's First Marathon...

Wish me luck!
One foot in front of the other...
Belly

To Grandma's house...

2008-10-08T07:19:00.003-05:00

So, it's been a while since I posted, in part because SJV and I went to my grandma's early on Sunday (we started out at 6:30 a.m.) and came back very late that night. It was a grand day -- grandma's 91st birthday! She opened presents:

And then I opened mine (thanks Aunt Pat and Uncle Dave for the most excellent footies, bag and moisturizers!):

And then we went out for lunch and, later, for ice cream at the favorite Johnson's. I swear, their ice cream is de-licious. Mmmmm.

All in all, it was a great weekent, but I started Monday a wee bit tired. :) SJV and I had a great time, though -- got to see my aunt and uncle (first meeting for SJV, which was cool) and hear how things are going in their part of the world. And seeing G-mama is always fantastic. She looks, and acts, pretty great for someone who's 91... Here's to hoping that I have enough of her genetic material to make it that far! Pretty sweet!

Now, this is the second week of Operation Bikram Yoga -- my attempt at limbering myself up enough to finish the Chicago Marathon on Sunday. As you know, it's been a difficult few weeks/months, with my IT band singing and whistling every long (and now, every short) run that I do. Yesterday's run was no exception -- I went on a 2-3 mile run, and it started smarting around mile 1. By "smarting" I mean that aching sensation -- not the jabbing pull that will make you hop for a minute, grimace, and shake your head. It's the kind of thing that you honestly can run through, but you spend the time you otherwise would have spent pondering the yonder pondering how you got yourself into this mess, and why on earth your leg won't cooperate with your otherwise willing body/mind.

And that's the kicker-- everything else feels fine. I'm convinced that, without that leg bugging me, I could have an incredible marathon. I'm also convinced that, if I don't start out and continue conservatively, that leg will keep me from finishing. Seriously. So, rather than keeping to my pre-marathon-training goal of somewhere in the 4:30s (or under -- easily achievable when you look at my past race performances) I'm looking at somewhere under the 5:30s. And, for a first marathon, I should be excited to finish. *sigh*

Adding insult to my injury, the forecast keeps changing -- two days ago it was supposed to be a high of 60. Perfect. Now, it's a high of 76. Not so perfect. Visions of last year are creeping up in my head, and I'm a little scared of what the forecast will say in two more days. Not much I can do about it, and I'm lucky that I run well in the heat (and perhaps a few days of Bikram Yoga will help me with this, now that I think about it). Still, not optimal...

But, in less than a week, I can add "marathoner" to my personal list, and that's pretty darned fantastic. :) I'm getting excited, so if the next few days are full of nervous posts, and some jittery conversations, I apologize in advance.

Start slowly, then taper...
Belly

Eee-Ayy-Eee-Ayy-Ouch/Ommm.

2008-10-02T07:18:00.004-05:00

So, over the weekend, SJV and I enjoyed the Farm In The Zoo -- complete with piglets and baby chicks,

and a great veggie garden (I don't think they really need the tractor) with butternut squash, curly kale etc all growing out where folks that aren't from the country can see how they grow. Our favorites were the piglets -- they were all cuddled up over/under/around each other, and every time one of them moved, it caused a chain reaction of squirming, pushing, and nudging until they all got comfortable again. They were a month old, so they're still in the oh-my-gosh-how-cute-when-can-I-take-one-home stage. See?

Awwww!

Totally relaxing, wonderful day -- the garden that's right outside of the zoo is really gorgeous, and we walked through the conservatory on our way to the zoo to enjoy the flowers.

It was a great day, and when SJV sent me those photos, I just had to share. :)

In other news, I did get to run outside yesterday morning -- gorgeous crisp morning that it was. I was pretty excited -- got up early, got some coffee, threw on the shoes and i-pod, garmin in tow... By the time I was near the lakefront path, I was pumped to get going... I started up, and that darned familiar pull on the knee started right with me (well, maybe about a 1/2 mile behind, but close enough). So, slow and steady won out yesterday, and I logged about the slowest 4 mile run I've done in quite some time. Still, I never felt a ZWING or a serious pain, which I attribute to the stretching during Bikram the other night. So, that was positive, and I'm heading back to Bikram again this evening. And as many times as I can fit it in, to be honest.

Talk about an interesting forum: a bunch of folks with mats and beach towels in a room that's 105 and 50% humidity, sweating like crazy and bending all over the place. I have to say: I loved it. Well, once I really got into it, I loved it. So, this will be my new "hard core" activity for the next few months, to give my body some time to restore itself from the past season of hard-core-ishness. (Whilst allowing me to continue the eating pattern that I love without gaining a second Belly...) And maybe that heat will feel better once the weather cools even more...

"Warmest" regards -- literally,
Belly

Bringing in the Big Guns

2008-09-30T06:56:00.004-05:00

This about sums it up:

I feel like a pufferfish.

SJV and I had our Six Month Anniversary yesterday (wahoo!) and went to a swank little wine bar to celebrate. One and 1/2 glasses later, and I was pretty sleepy -- and pretty hungry -- and my will-power was eroded and pliable. When SJV dropped me off, I came upstairs ... and started what would become a marathon of munching. I don't think I stopped all night.

And so, here I am, The Morning After, all gross feeling and poochy. *sigh* Alas, when I have a tub of choco-cookies and peanut butter in the house, all bets are off... ;)

In any case, the next few weeks will probably be an exercise in restraint as far as food's concerned. I'm now in the midst of taper for the Chicago Marathon, so my routine is pretty easy (well, in comparison to the rest of the summer). Of course, tell that to my ITB, which still screamed at me on Saturday when I tried to log in my 10-12 mile run for marathon training. *sigh* I ran along fine for the first 3/4 mile, and then ZWING! *furrowed brow.* No amount of stretching or massaging or (as a last resort) punching that band whilst saying "Let go, gaddaammit!" would make it go away completely. I finished 5, and decided that it was better that I keep my leg attached to my body than finish out a mid-distance run. I think I made the right call, but now I've decided that rolling and stretching on my own are not cutting it... so I've decided to bring in The Big Guns: Bikram Yoga. That's right, folks, I'm headed to hot yoga tonight to see if that can loosen up these hamstrings, quads, calves, and the ITB that just doesn't want to let go...

And, at the same time, maybe I can work off some of those choco-cookies...

Namaste.

Belly

Post hoc race report...

2008-09-27T08:23:00.013-05:00

Well, the summer's flown by, and although I never gave a race report for the first two triathlons that I completed, I thought that perhaps a little post hoc race report would be a fun and interesting way to spend this morning... So, monster mug/bowl of coffee in hand, Idgy the Cat in lap (where she can lounge around and swipe at the keyboard every now and again) here I go:

Post Hoc Race Report Numero Uno: Chicagoland Danskin, a.k.a. The Estrogen Triathlon.

Some backstory (please feel free to skip this if you're really just interested in a description of the event): I had always found triathlon interesting, and very Hard Core. So, when John and I met, I was intrigued when he self-identified as a triathlete. (Actually, I was more than intrigued...). So Sweet Johnny V and I ran together in a great running group that meets here in Chicago. During the course of our courting, he told me a little about what races he was planning to do this past summer, including Bigfoot Tri, and Steelhead 1/2 Iron (I remember thinking -- Oooh! A half-ironman! How sexy...). Anyhoo, fast forward a few weeks, and we started actively talking about me doing a triathlon... I was a little ... scared. But I knew that there were some female-friendly tri's around Chicago, so I looked them up, and before I knew it, SJV and I were signing me up online. It was to be Chicagoland Danskin, in July, for my very first tri. And, when they asked for a "coach or contact person" in case I biffed it on the bike, I added his name. It was a major moment in our dating relations, let me tell you... ;)

So then came the realization that I had not gone swimming in ... oooohhhh ... maybe around three years. Maybe more. I'm not a beach person, and I didn't have a pool at my gym... So I had this feeling that maybe I should "practice" -- you know -- so the likelihood of drowning was less... likely. Plus, although I had a road bike, I hadn't been on it in at least 9 months, and even before that hadn't ridden more than 7 or 8 miles at a time. When I looked at my odometer, it read 80 miles or so. Total, in the history of that bike. *sigh* I was going to have my work cut out for me -- even for a sprint distance like Danskin. (Danskin is 1/2 mile swim, 12.4 mile bike, and 3.1 mile run.)

So, to the swimming: I started out with the pool, trying a few laps at first... couldn't get more than one out and back lap (in a 25 foot pool, mind you) without resting (this from a long distance runner -- I was very humbled). I switched up my strokes, doing one out and back lap in freestyle, the next backstroke, the next side stroke, etc. Every week or so, I'd get a little better, until I could swim 20 out and back laps in freestyle, and then more, and then ... well ... it turns out I'm not a bad swimmer. :) First open water swim in lake Michigan with a wetsuit that I ordered online after a traumatic day of "fittings" (I'm scarred by that experience). And, honestly, it was fun. Sweet Johnny V was there with me for the whole thing, and kept commenting that I was just fine -- and honestly, I pretty much was.

The biking: SJV gave me a tutorial in June that helped a great deal. I needed to "refresh" (read: learn) some standard essentials. Like stopping. (I'm not kidding.) After that weekend course, I would go out on the lakefront path a few days a week and log some miles, starting out at a 15 mph or so pace, and, to my amazement, I would sometimes get up to 17 or higher.

The running was a given -- no extra training needed, as I was already going on with marathon training.

So... the big day arrives. I had been "training" mainly to be able to finish the event, but had recently been doing so well that I was starting to think I could break 1:30. So, that became the goal. Armed with that and a fully packed bag, SJV and I packed up to go to Wisconsin on that fateful July Saturday...

We drove up to Wisconsin, attended the expo, got me bodymarked (my first bodymarking!) got my event shirt,

and attended the course talk. Now, this was my first course talk, but let me tell you how lady-friendly it was... Lots of "you CAN do this" and cheers for the first timers, and high-fives, and... it was basically a Chick Pep Rally, and it really rocked for that reason. I was pretty confident that I could do this thing, but attending that talk made me even more certain. And I was pretty impressed about the variety and diversity of women that were going to compete. Pretty sweet!

We also took the opportunity to check out the course (I was most interested in this, actually). Here's the lake -- the swim goes directly across, and pops out on the other side by the transition. (Actually, the first photo in this post was taken by the swim exit...)

I was a little freaked out, frankly, by how far the swim looked. It's not far, but it looks it. It really does.

A word about the transition area: it's HUGE. Really quite large. Now, it's a bunch of ladies that are really quite polite, but there's still not much room for gear, and there are plenty of first timers that don't quite know whether to put their gear here, or there, or... well, suffice to say that stuff is everywhere, and since there are 4,000 or so ladies doing the race, logistics are rough.

(Because it's logistics-related, I've included the above photo of a line of people for the port-a-potties. Really, really huge lines for these both in and out of transition.)

So SJV and I check out the bike course next (the run goes around the lake, and appears to be Flat As A Pancake -- which is good, as I train in Chicago, where there is no incline to be found). We're driving along, my little map in hand, and we go to the first two big inclines -- and I'm thinking "Okay, that'll be a good push, but then you get the benefit of the downhill, and since you just learned how to shift you'll know what to do..." -- but there's a hard right at the end of the second of those inclines, so there goes that positive thinking... We keep going, and there's a nice long downhill that I was pretty excited about, and then we turn left... and it goes uphill. For a while. I gulp. SJV says (in his softest and most supportive voice) "There are some hills here, sugar. It's going to be a great, challenging ride for you...".

Indeed. There were hills like that throughout, and I was super nervous. I revised my goal from finishing in under 1:30 to finishing without walking my bike, and from finishing the bike with an average of 17 to finishing the bike (again) without walking my bike. *sigh* It took some pressure off.

Off we go to dinner, to check into the hotel, and to a good night's sleep. SJV let me use his tri mat and transition bag (thanks, sugar!) and I laid them out like I would the next morning.

(Note the supportive card that my co-workers gave me during our staff meeting on the Friday before the race. Such great folks...) I packed and re-packed, and tried not to rub the numbers off of my arms. Before I knew it, it was Belly's First Race Day!

Ate a cliff bar, drank some coffee, and SJV and I drove to the Dairyland parking lot. Again -- logistics. You had a choice: either park 1 mile away at an outlet mall and walk or ride into the race, or go to Dairyland and catch a bus.

The Swim: Here's what the lake looked like the morning of the swim...

Much different from the day before. There were big floating pallets on either side of the alley that the swimmers were (supposed) to swim. There were also kayaks. So, if you got tired, you could just swim over to one of the pallets or to the kayaks and hold on for a minute, and then go on. But there were A LOT of ladies in that lake.

When it was time to go down to the shore, all of us chatty ladies shuffled down to the start. And that's when we got our last pep talk before we started. (See photo of us during said pep talk)

Note, too, the "noodles" that they have on the beach there. Those are for the "swim angels" -- ladies that swim along with you with a noodle that you can hold and rest if you want. It's a very sweet idea that makes the race accessible and less stressful for new swimmers. Great concept, very female friendly. If you wanted an angel, you could ask -- or they would find you if you were crying, or hyperventilating... ;)

Then they counted us down, and off we went. I started out pretty strong, and then, suddenly, I panicked. About 50 feet into the thing, I lost it a little. So I flipped over to rest on my back, and all I could see was what seemed like hundreds of yellow caps coming at me. Whaaaaa! I took a few deep breaths, flipped back over, and started swimming for broke. I couldn't see well - the sun was coming up on the same side that I like to breath, and I didn't have mirrored goggles at the time. So, I just went like crazy -- and I totally zig-zagged. (If you go too far off course, they come and get you... so it wasn't that bad, really...) But once I had hit my groove, I really hit my groove, and I felt good and relaxed. I noticed that I was passing folks in other colored swim-caps, and I thought that was good... there was a bit of a bottleneck at the end, but I fared well, even though the sand at the end was deep, and your feet sunk pretty far down after so many other waves had loosened up the ground:

See dramatic photo of me ripping off my swimcap like a pro (above), and then running through transition (thanks, as always to SJV for being such an amazing photographer and man):

I had finished the swim in 15:13. NOT BAD! I had hardly any problems ripping off my wetsuit, but it was a bit of a mess getting from A to B in that transition. I'm happy with my transition time of 3:04.

On to the bike! I started out feeling pretty good -- getting up those hills wasn't so bad, and I wanted to get done as fast as I could... I knew there would be a wind coming and it would get stronger as the day went on, so I wanted to get going. I blazed down that nice long downhill, and hit 25mph at one point, which got me a little scared. :) It seemed like another woman and I were just trading places -- so we started chatting, and encouraging one another. I was passing ladies left and right, and trying to keep up with my new friend. Once we hit the part of the course that was pretty bad road and some gravel, the wind hit straight on, and everyone got quiet. The wind was probably around 15mph, and when a gust hit, everyone slowed considerably. But the most amazing thing about this race was the support from other competitors -- lots of "you go, chica," and "looking really strong" -- both from folks you passed and from those passing. Finally, I was coming around to the last two inclines back into transition, and let me tell you how hard those were -- the wind coming straight on, and going up those inclines with no real training on hills... Everyone was having a hard time, and I was no exception. I just ground it out...

I was happy to get into transition -- my heart rate was through the roof, so even though I knew I could just run off, I dawdled a little to get it down.

The great news? I averaged 18.3 for the bike! Nice-- total time, 42:31. Transition: 2:03. Also not bad, considering.

Next, the run. This, I figured, was my "easy" event. Ummm... I hadn't ever run that hard after cycling that hard (I'd done a few bricks, but nothing like that...). So, a few minutes after starting, I had to pull over to the side to get my breath again... I was unbelievably thirsty (because I can't drink on the bike well, and hadn't taken my water bottle from transition) and then I got a side-stitch around mile 2.5, and had to walk for a bit. In any event, it's a good run course -- just all the way around the little lake, with a bit extra, and then you come in by the recplex. There's not much shade, and I was annoyed that there was only one water stop, but that's plenty for someone who hydrates well on the bike. Also, there's lots of room for spectators to cheer you on, and it's darn accessible to them.

Back to the run: after my crudilicious performance on the running path, and what I could tell was NOT going to be a PR on the run, I figured I'd miss my goal by a lot. I also couldn't really go any faster than I was going -- my side-stitch was pretty bad, and, well... the hard efforts were catching up. So I was really happy to see the finish line, and to see My Sugar at the finish line, and to get some water at the finish line.

Then, I checked my watch: I had run the run in 28:43.

I then started adding things up, and realized that I had missed by goal by only 1:36. That's right! (And that's using the official time) I had finished my first sprint tri in 1:31:36. I was very happy. Very happy! (Followed, of course, by kicking myself for not running faster... blah blah blah)

Final results: Overall rank: 417/3655, 63/370 (age group); Swim 599/3655; Bike 543/3655; Run 756/3655.

And that's when my favorite photo of SJV and I was taken:

SJV and I hung around for a while, enjoying the day -- it was gorgeous, and then we had to figure out logistics for how to get home. That's really the only down-side to this race. We had to get on a bus, to go get the car, to get the car as close as possible to the race, so that I could ride my bike to the car... Doing all of that took longer than the race itself! Still, it was very well organized -- with that much of a logistical challenge, it would have been far worse if it wasn't well organized.

Sheesh, I'm long winded. :) So there's my first post-hoc race report about Danskin Chicago. I highly recommend it for first-timers, and for other ladies that want an easy-going race. Very supportive, very fun. But it's probably not a place to get a PR -- there are a lot of ladies that don't really understand the rules yet, so sometimes you just can't go that fast. Still, I did pretty well with my time, and I liked the course.

Thanks for listening, and have a great weekend everyone!

Belly

Catching up...

2008-09-26T07:03:00.000-05:00

So, about a week ago, Sweet Johnny V and I decided to play around on Facebook and look for folks from highschool. He saw a friend of his, and wanted to shoot him a message to tease him; I had created a quick profile for searching purposes... Well, creating that profile meant that I got tagged by some folks from highschool, and then more, and then I started looking for folks, and it snowballed... And now, a week later, I've heard from and seen photos of folks that I've not heard from or seen in more than ten years.

Crazy. *head shake, sigh*

It really is -- seeing photos of kids, pets, husbands and wives -- trips and achievements and accomplishments that in some cases don't surprise me -- and definately do in others. And they've been generally surprised about my triathlons (I think) and general path in life (which, as I said in my initial post and which I'll describe at some point, has changed significantly in the last six months...) In any event, it's taken a lot of my time this week -- which, with marathon taper, isn't such a bad thing. (Not that I ever really ran all of the weekly runs that I was supposed to -- but now that I'm not swimming and cycling as much, I have a little more guilt -- and fear -- about that...). I have slightly more time on my hands, but I've certainly filled it. (When don't I?)

So, marathon taper -- let me just tell you how nice that is. Just to know that there's only one more (massively) long run - the 26.2 miler, and that then my Season Has Ended. And, of course, I've already started mapping out next year's tri season, and my winter training schedule... A girl has to be prepared, you know...

I'm signing off to get back on Facebook, to try to respond to messages and such... Hope you all have a most fantastic day!

I didn't need that toenail anyway...

2008-09-23T20:56:00.001-05:00

I'm not being dramatic -- really, I'm not. And I haven't yet lost the toenail. It's a fighter -- still hanging on. I won't gross you out with the gory details. But now I'm all appreciative of what that toenail's done for me -- how many long runs it's been on, how many peep-toed shoes it's seen, how many applications of red toenail polish it's worn... It's been a good nail, and I'll be sorry to see it go, if it goes...

Not to get all nostalgic about a nail... but you can see how it could be a little distressing to realize that the fact that your toenail is actually attached to your toe is no longer a foregone conclusion.

And thus, is the 20 mile run report redux. So, it seems, you can feel the effects of a major run like that days (days!) after you've finished the running. Well, I suppose I didn't really heed the advice of wiser-and-more-sinewy-runners than I, who said to nix the hiking trip on Sunday. (But seriously, could anyone NOT go hiking for a birthday party? I mean, really!) See? How FUN!

Connie (birthday girl!) and I getting ready to head off to Starved Rock

Connie giving a bear a bear-hug...

We went over the river...

And through the woods...

And we had a wonderful time. And so, come Sunday evening, as I was all snuggled up on the couch in Sweet Johnny V's arm, I realized that Maybe I Had Done Too Much, and that the additional pang in my left leg was no longer alone -- having been met by a strain and a twinge and a whang in my right ankle (at least I'm no longer lopsided). And so, I suppose, I have Learned My Lesson. *sigh*

In any event, I'm on the mend, although I most surely will be skipping some of the weekly runs this week. So, here's to Connie's wonderful birthday hiking extravaganza, and to the hope that my toenail will hang on for one last and final long run...

Be well, train smart, and ensure that you have sufficient room in your toe-box.
Belly

You must run in your feet, not on them. -- Dr. Lee (acupuncturist, sports massage therapist, and general jack of all trades).

2008-09-21T07:37:00.000-05:00

Well, I did it. The Longest Run In The History Of Belly (20 miles) was yesterday, and it went about as well as I could expect. I was incredibly nervous. Seriously. Totally nervous. I tried to explain why I was so nervous last night to Johnny V, and the best I could come up with is that I knew it was going to hurt, I just didn't know how much, or how long it (the run and the hurt) would last. So, I imagine the marathon -- or any massively long run -- is like childbirth for that very reason [note that I speculate here, because I don't have kiddlings just yet (Idgy the cat doesn't count for purposes of this discussion)]. So, at 6:35, as I was starting to run, I didn't know if I would finish by 10:00, 10:30, or 12:30. (I was glad that it ended at 10:30.)

And, of course, there was the drama of realizing that the bodyglide was at Johnny V's (which I realized at 6:00 a.m., 1/2 hour before I was supposed to meet the group) and then the scamble to figure out what to slather on myself so that I didn't come back a scraped up raw mess. (And chamois butter works for that, folks, believe it or not. Good to know, eh?) And then there was the realization that I wasn't going to be able to meet the group on time -- but I still saw them coming south as I was going north to meet them, so that was cool... Ran about a mile with Bob and Carrie and the IT Bandits, then turned back north to run my own northern more scenic loops (up to the beach and lighthouse, back down around the peewee soccer fields, along the lakefront, the harbor, and back up). It was hard to break off from Bob et al, but I needed to go slower than they were going, lest my left leg fall off around mile 18... A little forced separation helps me do that. :) But still, it was great to catch up with Carrie for a bit (well, for 9:30 -- one mile...)

(Photo of Carrie saying howdy as she waited to get going on her leg of the Madison-Chicago 200 mile relay, which I have not reported on just yet -- but will someday. Yes, we had a team that ran 200 miles. Yes, it went all night. Yes, it was a little insane...)

And, you know, it went pretty well. The weather was perfect; the lake was a sheet of glass, there were geese all over the place, lots of soccer games and such to pay attention to while running by, and the path was not all that busy for a Saturday. I averaged around a 10:30-10:45 pace while I was running, which isn't bad for someone who's injured (and not trying to run fast), and this morning I feel great -- with the exception of that leg. Zero muscle soreness, zero aches everywhere but that pesky IT Band... And my leg felt generally fine during the run, except that around mile 11 I started to feel a "ping" every once in a while. But it seems like stretching every 1.5 miles or so (more like every mile from mile 15-20) really works for me. Good practice....

And through it all I thought of a quote that a friend of mine shared with me the other day -- she's been going to this amazing massage therapist/acupunturist named Dr. Lee. He actually used to work with the Korean soccer team. I think he knows what he's doing... Anyhoo -- he was telling her that she was walking all funny. So he said "Miss Irene -- you must walk in your feet. Not on them."

I love Dr. Lee...

Such simple advice, but when you think about it while you're running, it honestly changes how you run (for the better, I think). Give it a try...

Then after running, Johnny V and I went to a diner for breakfast (I was soooo hungry...) and then took Miss Idgy for a vet's appointment -- her ears were bugging her, and she's been soooo anxious. So we met with the vet, who literally gave us a glade-plug-in-looking device that diffuses cat pheremones that are supposed to chill her out. So far, it's actually worked (much to our surprise...). Stay tuned for updates on the kitty hormone therapy.

Then we went to help two friends of ours -- Robyn and Stephanie -- both had a tough week emotionally, but Stephanie had a major physical injury this week to boot, and had to have hand surgery. Horrible. So Sweet Johnny changed her bandages on her hands for her, and I got to catch up with Robyn (from street level -- I couldn't tackle stairs at the moment...). They've had a rough one, so hopefully things will quiet for them soon...

And then we went to the grocery store, and then we went to dinner.

I think I did too much! Today's busy, too - a hiking trip organized to celebrate Miss Connie's birthday. I think I'll be enjoying from the car, but I'm going anyway. Can't miss out on it -- too special of an occasion. But in the meantime, I'm icing that leg, and trying not to hobble too much... you can call me hopalong...

Have a great one, folks...

belly

A little more playful drama...

2008-09-18T07:06:00.000-05:00

So, in reviewing the photos from TriAm that I posted here, I was a little ... well ... disappointed with the lack of drama for the swim photos. So, I went back to my stash, and found this one:

Voila! Now I think that captures the day, and the weather, a little better... I do like to feel hardcore...

Speaking of hardcore, as I mentioned in the last post, my Saturday 10 miler was run in the warm rain on the lakefront. Now, my intentions in leaving the house that morning were to turn right and run to the gym. When I walked out of my place, though, the air was warm, the rain was somehow refreshing, and I ended up turning left (which is the direction of the lakefront path). *Sigh, Shrug* I was drenched by the time I got to the path, and was giggling like a little kid. Huge (and I mean HUGE) puddles covered the path and the ground on either side, so every half mile or so I'd have to high step through these big river-lets, and again -- all giggles. BIG smiles. So much fun! I can't even describe why it was fun -- I was soaked head to toe, was getting pelted with raindrops, could barely see out of my glasses, and I was having the time of my life. And I wasn't the only one who was enjoying myself -- I actually saw a guy running in goggles. Hee!

(Side-note: Sweet Johnny V got me some dry-max socks, and I wore those on Saturday. If you have not tried them, you MUST. I had no blisters -- even after running that whole time in the rain. Seriously sweet socks. End side-note.)

Anyway, it was a fun hour (or two) of adult playtime -- something that we adults don't often have (or if we do have it, it ususally involves seriously destructive behavior). It got me thinking about how much more fun I have now that I take time out to run, and swim, and bike -- because it's playing. Maybe not in the same way that I played when I was 7, but it's still playing. I hope that I don't lose sight of that simplicity...

Have fun, folks!

belly

The Icing On The Cake...

2008-09-17T07:05:00.000-05:00

What a great weekend! Sweet Johnny V's birthday was Monday (Happy Birthday sugar!), and all weekend was devoted to celebrating ... and relaxing. Much (MUCH) rain fell here in Chicago, so we didn't get to do all of the things that we wanted to. Still... we were able to make this:

Such a very fun activity! And super tasty -- bottom layer is dark chocolate, and top layer is milk chocolate, and chocolate frosting... choco-goodness. Mmmm. So the weekend was great, and, like I said -- very relaxing. NO schlepping bikes, and shoes, and no crazy long rides for John, or crazy long runs for me. Just snuggles on the couch watching good ole' fashioned t.v. What Bliss! (And, for the record, I think it will be about two more weeks before I start jonesing for a race, and looking around to find something to train for ... that's not a marathon.)

This coming weekend's a different story, with me going off on a 20 mile run (ITB band permitting, of course) and John's thinking of doing a long ride while I'm on said run. I'm (strangely) looking forward to the intensity of the run, and the fact that marathon training is almost over. So, I'll be heading out to meet the group on Saturday morning, and I think I'll start out with them. It'll be good to hang out -- it's been a while since I've been able to hang with them... Although I did run into a group of folks from the group (hey Bob!) on the running path on Saturday, when it was raining cats and dogs... Super fantastic to see them, and to log a few miles while catching up. More on that in the next post (hopefully) when I extoll the virtues of running in warm rain. (I can't extoll ANY virtues of running in cold rain, which I've done before. And which seriously sucks. Warm rain, though, feels like you're out playing. And that's a pretty cool feeling, really.)

So, I'm off to work. Happy trails, and happy training...

Belly

Slowly now...

2008-09-12T07:14:00.001-05:00

Well, I'm injured. It's not surprising (marathon training together with a pretty overbearing, fairly obsessive triathlon training schedule in July and August) -- nor is it new. I've had a "tweak" in my ITB (that pesky band!) since the 16 mile run in marathon training -- which was now about a month ago. I've been rolling and stretching it religiously, but it still tweaks every now and again, just to remind me that it's there.

I've been focusing more on swimming (and biking) since I started feeling the tweak, but now that I'm suddenly very one-dimensional, I have a craving to run more. Plus, during the run at Triamerica, I ran consistent 9:00/9:30s without feeling a single twinge -- so I feel like I'm on the mend. And this week in marathon training I'm doing 10-12 miler for a long run (next week is the Mother Of All Long Runs -- the 20 miler) so I felt like I could be a little less ... cautious. Couple all of that with a really strong desire to work off part of a chocolate bar that I ate after lunch, and I decided to go running last night after I got home.

And what a great run it was... I strapped on the i-pod, listened to some really, really relaxing tunes, and started my 1/2 mile walk to where I start running on the lakefront path. And once I started running, I felt myself get into a nice, very very slow, groove. The lake was gorgeous - slate blue, almost matching the sky, and it was nice and overcast - about 73 degrees. Perfect running weather. Gulls were hanging out everywhere, and there were fewer people to dodge, and it was just generally perfect. Every once in a while, I'd try to pick up the speed -- and that attempt would be answered with a Zwing from my ITB. So that answered that -- no fast running for a while. And by "fast" -- I mean anything under 11:00. Yes. 11:00. So I pondered this as I was running along (running, mind you - not jogging. Jogging implies lack of effort.) and I realized that two years ago, when I started running and being more active, that I would have KILLED for an 11:00 mile. In fact, I would have killed for the ability to run four miles at once (which is what I did last night very easily, once I decided to let my body, rather than my brain and my ridiculous expectations of what I "should" be able to do control my pace). So my run last night turned into a wonderful reverie... looking back at relationships, jobs, friends that have and have not withstood my personal running boom. Looking back at how different my life was only one year ago -- and how my running changed every aspect of my life.

I think of these things often -- in fact, I tell my story to pretty much anyone who will listen (it's a long story, and I'm thinking it may require multiple installments for purposes of this page). But it's different when I go through it in my head. Little snapshots of moments float by me. Remnants of emotions that I felt at the time surface. The longing for a new friend. The annoyance that she wanted me to run with her. The fear that I couldn't excel in something. The disappointment when she didn't show up for our morning run (multiple, multiple times). The wonder at the beauty of the lakefront. The embarassment of how slow I was, and then the slowly emerging pride as I got faster and more comfortable. And the wonderful acceptance of myself, finally, even though I wasn't the fastest. And the pride at my first races... it goes on and on.

Funny that an injury made me go slowly, and that going slowly gave me the time to remember what life was like two years ago, when going that speed without hacking up a lung was a still a dream. I guess being injured isn't all that bad, as long as you keep it in perspective...

Be well, and train smart...
b

Hey -- I'll take it.

2008-09-08T18:54:00.000-05:00

Ta-daaaa! Here I am, accepting my very first (note that I don't say last) age group "trophy" (or, as Sweet Johnny V likes to say, my first "major award") at the Triamerica short course last weekend. Sweet! (I got fourth in my age group. More to follow.)

Not bad -- not bad at all.

And, actually, not all that good (race report to follow)...

So here is my very first Official Race Report, my first Report of the Season, about my Third Triathlon Ever In The History Of Belly, and my First Official Race-Place.

The race weekend portion of our weekend started with a trip to Michigan City, to stay at a little B&B called Tryon Farm. Adorable! We were welcomed with chocolate chip cookies (mmmm!) and iced tea. It was our first experience at a B&B together, and even though we weren't going to be able to enjoy the second "b" in the B&B the next morning, it was a lot of fun to stay somewhere that was so ... homey feeling. So we sat on the porch swing and snuggled. Awwww. :) The proprietor also gave us a bag breakfast for the next morning -- including yogurt, blueberries, orange juice and a little granola bar. Much appreciated, even if we are both lactose intolerant...

So we went out to dinner and I had my pre-race beer, and then we were off to get some shut eye. Bed was comfy, good weather for sleeping, and there were lots of country sounds for these cityfolk to comment on. And then....

BrrRRRRRRWWWWWOOOOOOOO! BrRRWOOO! BrRRWOOO! BrRRWOOOOOOOOOOO!

A train. At, oh, say, 3:00 a.m. And then again around 4:00 a.m.

*sigh* Whatchagonnado.

Still -- got generally great sleep, and woke up on time to brush the sleep out of our eyes and get started for the day. And what a day... I was a ball of nerves when we walked out -- I had awoken during one of the aforementioned train whistles to hear rain -- Sweet Johnny said that he had heard it on and off all night -- so now I was worried that the weather was going to tank. *sigh*

But we get down there, and I set up my stuff in transition, get bodymarked, and head down to the beach, where the swim is going to start. Now, let me explain -- this was a TINY race. Teeny weeny. Less than 200 people signed up TOTAL (for the long and the short course). Wee little race.

I looked out at the lake, and rather than being the picture of serenity that it was the day before, there were some ... um ... waves. And they seemed pretty big... I contemplated (see photo of said contemplation).

So, after looking out there, and seeing that they were taking their sweet time getting the swim underway, I started to wonder whether they were going to cancel the swim. Seemed like they were getting ready to call it... But, quite a bit late, they went ahead and told the first group to get ready to go. There would be three waves -- the first of ALL the long course folks, and the second all boys under 50, and the third all the ladies and the men over 50.

I watched the first wave go off, and they seemed to be going pretty slow -- and getting bashed pretty good by the waves. John and I talked for a minute about how to play it -- maybe go out a little further where the waves weren't breaking... Then I just got quiet and started to wonder if I could swim in that much chop. Swimming is normally a strong suit for me -- but this was a little nuts.

But pretty soon it was my time to go. So, I get ready to go, give John a kiss for good luck, and off I go into the waves...

Right off the bat, I figured this was going to be a rough one. (It could have been the long course men coming off that were shaking their heads saying "ugh - rough - sucked"...) I can normally crank out a strong swim, but every time I went to take a breath, I got a swig of water. Every stroke was off a little because I was in and out of the water. And I couldn't see -- unless you timed a sighting stroke just right, you couldn't see the buoys in front of you. So, I zig-zagged a little (not too bad), but I'm sure that would have been better if I didn't have such a hard time sighting. (It was bad enough that I couldn't even really see the people around me... very interesting feeling.) What was worse about that was the fact that you could only see one buoy at a time -- so I thought at one point that I was done going parallel to shore and was getting ready to turn, when I realized there was a buoy off in the distance (that was on a diagnol from where I was at that point). *sigh* I guess you get the picture that the swim was rough, eh? ;) Later Johnny V told me that they fished some folks out, and I can attest to the coast guard going around and shouting -- asking if folks wanted to get fished out. I didn't take them up on their offer... In any event, I passed quite a few people holding on to the buoys for dear life, and there were plenty of times when I stopped and did a few breaststrokes to try to give myself some time above water. So I was suuuper happy when I finished that last buoy and turned into shore -- very fun bodysurfing to shore! Of course, I was disappointed with my time...

Johnny V took this of me coming out -- I was totally miffed. You can't see my face, but I was totally p*ss*&. My goal had been to finish the swim (.61 miles) in 20 minutes or less -- a goal that was more than do-able based upon my practice swims. I finished more than 10 minutes off that pace... *sigh*

Anyhoo -- I tried to shake that off, but transition was pretty barren and those of us that were there were all talking to one another about how hard the swim was, and about the fact that it felt long (I mean, LOOK at those waves! Of COURSE it felt long!). I still think it was probably a little longer than .61, but that's a darn hard distance to hit ... Anyway, my performance on the swim got me a little blue, and I wish I would have just powered through and not cared... Still, nothing like getting the tar beat out of you for a half hour to revise your personal expectations...

So, off I go onto the bike. The course there was ... well ... "rugged." LOTS of potholes, lots of seams, and cracks, and sand. That said, it was pretty straight for a few portions, and darn pretty. There was also a really brutal hill, at the end of which was a 90degree turn on sand. Nice for a little technical riding, I guess, but I think I took that at -- oohh -- maybe 5 miles an hour. The wind seemed to come from every direction that wasn't helpful, and I never really got my groove. Plus, I got stopped by a train (yes, another train) which again killed my groove a little. Added to that -- I don't have the clipless pedals or aerobars, so I'm about the most un-aerodynamic woman on the race course. Still -- I finished the 18 miles (longest ride ever!) with a 17.3 average speed (not bad!). I came into the parking lot where I was going to stop and saw my sugar...

And then I hopped off my bike, stumbled into transition (when in the heck am I going to start feeling like I can run with grace and ease after a ride? Sheesh...) dropped a gu and grabbed a water bottle for the run. (This was the first time I used glukos in a water bottle for myself on the run -- excellent idea because this was my best run during a tri this season...).

The run was ... well ... AWESOME. I hit a pretty good stride around the 1/2 mile mark, and kept it all the way in. The spectators were great, the race support was great (although I had my own provisions) and the view was pretty cool, too. Plus, I got the feeling that either I was coming in dead last, or there were just not that many of us ladies 30-34. We all had our ages on our calves, and I hadn't seen a woman with my age on her calf in some time. So I figured either I was so far behind that they smoked me (a few did) or I was the only one... ;)

I had a little battle of wills with a woman there near the end -- I passed her, and she caught me, and then we paced each other until we hit a hill and then she dropped off. Then I just put one foot in front of the other until the end...

Then I sprinted to the finish (see dramatic hair flying in the sprint-induced-breeze!).

And then I enjoyed my finisher's medal, a little water, and some R&R.

After a few minutes, I began to realize that I really hadn't done all that bad -- 2:27:15 was my official time, and shucks but that's not bad for a first season chick. Plus, when they started putting up the totals for everyone, it became pretty clear that I was going to be in the top five ladies in my age group... because there were only five listed! (There would ultimately be six, but when I first looked, there were only five). Now, mind you, I don't know how many DNF'd because of the swim, so the field might have been larger than six...

But, since I gave away the punch line above, you all know that I got 4th in my age group overall! Yay me! And congrats to the ladies that whomped me. I'll getcha next year. ;)

Let me say that the SWAG at Triamerica Indiana Dunes was pretty sweet. Two shirts (neither technical, but both relatively stylish and not altogether ill-fitting), a cell phone carrier, a license plate holder (yes, a license plate holder) a pretty sweet medal, and, for most, a plaque for your finishing place (mine was fourth, as I said) -- all in all, pretty great.

Sorry this was so long -- more to follow on this first season in general, and other race reports from races gone by. In the meantime, I'm enjoying a bit of a rest and some relaxation after a fun but rough weekend...

Take care, train well!
Belly

One Week And Counting... So Good To Be Bad

2008-09-05T06:56:00.000-05:00

Whew. Holy, holy, hoooollllyyyy cow. What a summer. An amazing, wonderful, freaking-fantastic summer -- but one that has made me so darned ... tired. Wiped Out. Toast. Fried-fried-fried. Like lots of folks, I've been juggling triathlon training (which I only began in May, so it's pretty darned new, really) and a new relationship (Sweet Johnny V -- see previous post) and a new job (which will be described soon, I hope) and friends, and marathon training -- and I have to say -- it's been rough. So I've been less than great about posting. Which stinks -- I love to share what's going on with me, and this is a great forum for that...

What the heck! What a wonderful problem to have, huh? To have to complain about having too much fun in a summer!?! An embarrasment of riches, I suppose, but it's left me with very little in the tank, and with one more race to go.

That race is the Triamerica short course in Michigan City. I looked online, and apparently TriA has a history of only having a handful of ladies sign up for the short course in whatever city they're in. Coupling that with Ironman Wisconsin this weekend, and the fact that Accenture has come and gone, and I have a feeling that there will be very few of us... For the first time, I'm thinking that I might need to actually look at the bike course map (just in case I'm the only chiquita out there, you know?). It's made me appreciate what it must feel like to think that you may be a leader. Perhaps, someday, that could be me... but for now I'm happy just to do better than my goal time. (That's something I've not yet done -- I keep missing my goal by a stinking minute! Seriously! A stinking minute. *sigh*) Of course, I'm still pretty slow, but maybe if I crank it up a little bit, I'll hit the top ten in my age group... (there may only be 10 of us, but in case there are 11, I should try for that top 10 spot, don't you think?)

Race report to come, but two weeks ago I did the SuperSprint here in Chicago. Fun race, really -- but really short, and the darned bike portion was a straight one-mile line up and down simmonds drive -- with a hairpin turn on either end. (Nothing like having to come to a complete standstill to slow down your overall time.) Still, the swim portion rocked for me -- even though it was darned short, I exited the water in about 3:40 or so, and honestly sprinted the whole time. That's the first real sprint that I've done in the water - so it was great for training. The run suuuuuuccccckkkkkkeeeeedddd. And that's weird, but the same thing that's happened to me in every race -- my strength should be the run, as I'm a runner. But every time, there's just no go-power left in the tank. Zip-o, sister. And so I limp along at a 9:30 or 10:00 (two years ago that would have been a blazingly fast time, by the way) and end up missing my goal time because I can't go any faster...

And now for my personal revelation -- I have not worked out in a week.

A week! And this from a woman that follows her plan (whatever that may be) religiously. One week ago today I took a half day from work and ran my 18 miler for marathon training. I was beat even before I began, and it was hotter than blue-blazes, but I did it. John met me at mile 11, mile 15, mile 17 and 18 -- and my IT band let me know it was not happy with the day or the distance, but I still finished. Then, Saturday, I flew to St Louis, and went to my mom's in small town Missouri to help her paint her queen anne victorian home (it's literally 5 colors, and you have to use a wee little bitty paintbrush to get the detail in), which I did until Tuesday, when I came home, totally wasted by the combination of the week's activity. I thought that Wednesday I would work out, but no -- I was so tired that I could barely stand, and I honestly wasn't making much sense. Thursday came and went with me happily munching my way through the day. Today? No chance -- this morning was too snuggly to wake up, and after work I've got plans with Johnny and some friends. Tomorrow is The Day Before The Race, so maybe I'll have a little tune-up, but nothing serious -- my arms are feeling flabby already...

So I suppose that's it, huh? Maybe at this point, and after the summer of schlepping and running and generally having an amazing time, I need rest more than anything else. Perhaps I'll do the TriA and go faster at this farthest distance I've raced, simply because my body has had time to repair. Perhaps with this sleep that I've had, I will have more fun during the race itself (is that even possible?). But in any case, it feels good and delicious, and I'm surprised with myself that I'm allowing it... Oooh Baby It's good to be bad!

Have to get off to work, now -- soon I'll post stories of all the trials and tribulations, as well as my background, so that you can see why this summer was so much better than all of the summers before...

Best to you!
Belly...

A Whirlwind Whirlpool Weekend...

2008-08-04T18:24:00.003-05:00

Well, nothing like having attended a 1/2 Ironman to motivate/inspire you to do something new, eh? And so, here goes... Belly's first foray into the world of blogging.

Now, mind you -- I've been lurking around (well, perhaps not "lurking" -- that makes it sound like I'm some creepy dude with a raincoat skulking around a public bathroom) reading other folks' training blogs, and I thought that it looked like fun... Actually, it looked like a whole heck of a lot of fun -- and the kind of thing that I basically do when I e-mail my boyfriend (Sweet Johnny V) or family about what I've been up to.

So, reader (whomever you are, if you are) howdy'do, and welcome to my little corner of the world!

Oh -- and just in case you wondered if I actually participated in the 1/2 Ironman that I referenced here... I didn't. Nope. Nada. Not this year. Next year, almost for certain, but this year I went as Team Johnny V -- complete with signage and tons of smiles. He did awesome! (Photos will be posted later, once I figure out how the heck that works...) Not that I did nothing -- I had my own 13 mile training run to get in, so while Johnny was out biking his 56, I went on my own little Michigan adventure. Which was great, because both of us could eat Culver's without feeling any guilt... ;)

So, my next post will be all about how I got started on running, and then how Sweet Johnny V got me hooked on training for triathlons. And along the way, I'll tell you all about the Ten Seconds That Changed My Life (also known as The Day My Life Changed, or The Totem Pole).

In the meantime, I need to take Idgy the Cat (also known as Furry Monster and Idgy-Muffin) to the vet (shhh -- don't tell her -- she doesn't know yet...). Wish me luck.

Take care, talk soon, and train well.
Bell