Along the way…

As I just wrote in my last post, I’ve been thinking about the journey as opposed to the finish line. There is no finish line in life, after all. I guess you could say “death” is the finish line in life, but I prefer the kind where you actually get to cross a line, you get a medal, then you go have brunch or beers with your friends and tell stories of your race.

As I think about the journey, I realize the huge accomplishments I’ve had this summer. One of which was completing a Half-Iron distance triathlon in Ocean Shores back in July. Last summer this seemed like a huge, almost impossible undertaking. But along the way to training for a full Ironman, this became just another training day. There wasn’t a lot of hoopla surrounding it. Michelle and Tina came to support me (thank god!) and it was a big deal for me, but it wasn’t THE big deal. So I just sort of went and did it. It just happened along the way to the big race.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy. I was completely freaked! (I sense that no one is surprised here.) So a couple weeks before the race, I decide to look up last year’s times. I pretend I’m not competitive, but I want some confidence that I can beat at least one person. Right? My goal was to finish under 7 hours. But looking at the 2009 results, the slowest finisher – as in the very last person – finished in just over 6 hours. If this trend continued for 2010, I’d not only be last, I’d be last by almost an hour. So I freak out some more and email the race directors. I want to make sure the finish line will still be there when I finally get there. They say they’ll support the race for 7.5 hours, even if I am an hour behind.  Ok, so I have to wrap my head around being last. Logically, I know that this is a training race for me. I know it’s a big deal just to finish. I know that just finishing the SWIM portion will be a big deal. But when you imagine rounding the corner to the finish and the transition area is broken down and there’s one person standing there with a medal and a bottle of water while everyone else is enjoying their brunch or beers already telling their race stories, well, that’s just disheartening. But I decide it’ll be character-building and I’m going to do it. Maybe there will be a good story in it…

The race.

Technically I wasn’t last coming out of the swim. There was a guy behind me doing the backstroke, but I don’t think he finished the race. So I’m last going into the bike. It was flat and boring, but luckily my support team (aka the paparazzi) was there with their cameras and Pringles. I knew I wasn’t making up much time on the bike. Leaving that bike behind and heading out to run turned out to be delightful. Simply delightful running along the ocean.

I do love running. I made up some time and felt good. Actually, I felt amazing! I was on pace to finish just over 6 1/2 hours. I was going to finish! The high school kids volunteering at one of the final water stops asked me if I was the last runner. When I said yes, they jumped up and down and cheered with enthusiasm! Not really for me, but because they got to go home. But still – there was cheering. As I’m running through the neighborhood towards the finish, I’m elated and actually start running faster. Can’t wait to see the finish line! But oh, I suddenly have a dark thought that maybe it’s not there. Maybe the race directors decided they want to go home and tear down. I have a fight with them in my head and have to shake it off and focus on feeling good about my finish. I turn the corner and can actually see the finish line! I’m going to cross it! I’m going to finish! I’m DFL (dead f’ing last) and it feels awesome! There aren’t many people left, but I see Michelle and Tina, another woman I made friends with who finished the race shortly before me and her friend, the race photographer, the race directors, and just a few other people. My only fans. The only witnesses to see me crossing that finish line.

So let me take a second to describe the actual finish line. It’s one of those blow-up balloon-looking thingies (yes, I’m an excellent describer of finish lines) that has an air generator blowing air into it to keep it upright. It’s like an arch with two sides and the top so that you cross under it. Ideally.

Here’s a picture of me post-swim in the transition area with the finish line in the background:

But back to the race. As I’m sprinting around the corner to my big finish, fans cheering, I’m feeling like a superstar…

…the finish line falls over. I’m not even kidding. It loses air and just sort of fizzles to the ground. I stop about 30 feet away and start yelling “Put that freakin thing back up, I’m crossing that finish line!” All my fans (yes I realize most of them don’t know me, but they were still my fans) rush over and try to hold up the finish line so I can run under it. Which I do. In 6:36:05.

There are no fancy pictures of me finishing. Everyone with a camera was busy holding up the finish line. The race director brought me my medal almost as an after-thought as we were collecting my gear from the transition area. It was just a race along the way. But dammit, it was one of the greatest finishes of all time!

And then I got to go have brunch with the paparazzi and tell my race stories! It’s kind of a good one, don’t you think?

Thanks to Michelle and Tina – my race support, paparazzi, provider of Pringles and Gatorade, cheerleaders, my friends, my family, my supporters all along the way on this journey. I don’t know if I could have done it without you!

Introducing My Becca

Meet Rebecca. My sister. My seester. Speedy Gonzales likes my seester… Speedy Gonzales likes eeeverybody’s seester. Rebecca Biakabatuka. Rebecca Lynn. Becca Boo. My Becca. (Her husband also refers to her as ”My Becca”, but I’ve known her longer. <nyah>)

Rebecca is my sister. (You probably already realized that.) My funny, patient, smart, beautiful, wonderful sister. She’s coming to see me next week to join me on my journey. To be a part of it, whatever “it” may turn out to be. 

When I write this blog, I typically think of her as my audience. Our dad says that Rebecca trained me when we were young to entertain her. Seems to be true. I do enjoy being a storyteller, although sometimes it feels weird to share personal thoughts and dreams here for the world to see. There’s a fear of being judged by others. But Becca won’t judge. She’ll laugh at me for sure, but that’s pretty much the point, after all.

I’m thrilled she’s coming out here, but sad that I feel I might let her down. There have been a myriad of injuries, thus very few blog posts. (How do you write about training for an Ironman when you aren’t even training?) Anyway, I mention this to my mother that Rebecca’s coming all the way here and has expectations and you know what she said?  My mom said,

“…when we knew you were going to do the Ironman, Rebecca told me that she had to go to be with you.  That’s what sisters do, they support one another no matter what. You both are so very lucky to have each other.” 

Oh man, that gets me. (tear)

So I’ve been thinking about the journey as opposed to the actual event. The pursuit of becoming an Ironman instead of just the finish line. And I keep thinking that the most significant piece is who has been with me through this. I have had so many fantastic training partners, friends, cheerleaders. Thank you all for listening to me, supporting me, and believing in me – no matter what. And now my Becca is coming all the way from Ohio to be a part of the journey along with some amazing friends from Seattle who have become my family. And I AM so very lucky.

L-I-V-I-N

I wrote this in early June and never published, but I like that it offers kudos to my awesome, mountain-climbing friends who inspire me all the time to train harder and live bigger!

June 7, 2010

I just wanted to share with you a conversation between a man and woman in the elevator on the way into my office this morning:

Man: “Hey did you do anything fun this weekend?”
Woman: “No.” (sheepish laugh followed by a pregnant pause)
Woman: “Well, on Saturday, we went on this walk. We live in Wallingford and we walked all the way to U Village.”
Man: “Wow. That’s a long way.”
Woman: (amazed at her own physical capacity) “I know!! We kept thinking we’d catch a bus, but then we just kept walking!”

In my head, I said to them ”I hiked on Mt Rainier for 9 hours and aided in a rescue attempt. My friend Carna hiked twice this weekend.” I’m being a little bit of a bragger, but maybe just a little amazed, I suppose, that my life is so different than these people in the elevator. Different from the life I used to lead. I’m amazed at people who hike to Moon Rocks (on Mt Rainier) two days in a row (Go, Carna!) and this woman in the elevator is amazed that she walked two miles. Which is great, don’t get me wrong! I wish more people walked to U Village. Or to the grocery store. Or to the coffeeshop. My point being, it’s all relative to the way you live your life. That’s what climbing and big adventures can do to you. You’re just changed in a way that makes walking to U Village seem like, well, a walk in the park. You want something bigger. You think a little bigger. You live a little bigger.

This weekend while we were hiking on the lower mountain there was an avalance on the upper mountain. Fortunately, several climbers were pulled out by some quick-thinking guides from RMI. One has not yet been found. www.komonews.com/news/95695844.html

I think what I’m taking away from this weekend is that you can’t always avoid the avalanche, but what’s the point of playing it safe? That man still missing on that mountain is probably dead and that really, really sucks. But he was a mountain climber – out on the mountain by himself, doing what he loved. What is life if you’re not out there living it? 

While I was training to climb Rainier several years ago, my Dad was a little incredulous. Not something he’d ever wanted to do. Thought it sounded too dangerous. “What if that thing erupts while you’re on the top?”, he asked me. Certainly a frightening thought! But I had laughed and said “Holy crap, what a way to go!” You’re on top of a mountain when it erupts? If  it’s your time to go, where else would you want to be? In the valley? Sitting in your cubicle? I think I’ll want to be doing something bigger; out there having an adventure with amazing friends. Speaking of which, where are we climbing, hiking, running, biking, swimming, or walking next weekend?

Quote of the day:

“You just gotta keep on livin’, man. L-I-V-I-N.”  – Wooderson (Matthew McConaughey) from Dazed and Confused

November gets on the treadmill

Happy birthday to me! One of the best birthday posts on Facebook today was this little gem from Eric. An old favorite of mine. Truly inspirational.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=peLD2vlxRM0

The song is from the Karate Kid soundtrack, but when I hear it, I don’t think of Ralph Macchio, I think of November, the fluffly little kitty on the treadmill. She falls off again and again only to come back stronger! And with such swagger. The lyrics definitely inspire. I’m gonna reach the final bell for sure.

Title: You’re The Best (Joe Esposito)

Try to be best
‘Cause you’re only a man
And a man’s gotta learn to take it

Try to believe
Though the going gets rough
That you gotta hang tough to make it

History repeats itself
Try and you’ll succeed

Never doubt that you’re the one
And you can have your dreams!

You’re the best!
Around!
Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down
You’re the Best!
Around!
Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down
You’re the Best!
Around!
Nothing’s gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ow-own

Fight ‘til the end
Cause your life will depend
On the strength that you have inside you

Ah you gotta be proud
starin’ out in the cloud
When the odds in the game defy you

Try your best to win them all
and one day time will tell
when you’re the one that’s standing there
you’ll reach the final bell!

Chorus

INSPIRING GUITAR SOLO

Fight ‘til you drop
never stop
can’t give up
Til you reach the top (FIGHT!)
you’re the best in town (FIGHT!)
Listen to that sound
A little bit of all you got
Can never bring you down

You’re the best!
Around!
Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down
You’re the Best!
Around!

repeat to fade, occasional background shouts of “Oh Ye-eah!”

I left my shoes in Enumclaw

Something like I left my heart in San Francisco except I sure as heck didn’t leave my heart in Enumclaw. No love lost over at Mud Mountain down there.

A friend talked me into registering for the Mount Rainier Duathlon back in April. I use the term “friend” loosely. I think she likes it when I suffer. She talked me into the race by emailing me a link to registration. Deceptively simple. She’s tricky, that one. I said “No. No f*&king way.” But sure enough, not even ten seconds later, there I was all registered for this duathlon. (credit to Jim Gaffigan for his bit on blueberry picking. “I’ve got… eight. We can make a muffin!”)

Really the reason I decided to duathlon-it is because the night before I got to stay in a yurt. Ain’t no party like a yurt, yurt party, cause a yurt, yurt party don’t stop! I’ve got some pictures here somewhere. If I weren’t so blog-stupid you’d already have seen them.

So the yurt was really the best part of it all. Actually, now that I think about it, it wasn’t so great. I didn’t sleep much. It’s a more solid structure, but the walls are still like tent walls. Hopefully the scurrying I heard was outside the yurt, but you never know. I figured it was best to sit upright quickly as soon as you hear scurrying, even if you hit your head on the bunk above you. The thumping noise scares away whatever it is that’s scurrying. If you repeat that move several times, the scurrying things don’t come back. Trust me.

Early morning to breakfast at Charlie’s. Yum. But then we had to go to the race. Blah. Me and my concussion were not super excited about biking up Mud Mountain. Twice. Each loop was 14.4 miles for a total bike course of 28.8. The mileage sounded doable, the hill looked un-doable.

The duathlon was run, bike, run, so we started off with a 5.1 mile run. I felt strong, but slowed down the last mile to save some energy. Sometimes I’m smart during a race. Not always. I had what might possibly be the longest T1 (transition 1) in duathlon history. I sat on the ground and had a little talk with my bike, Stella. I wasn’t sure we could make it up Mud Mountain, not once, but twice. She insisted we give it a try. After all, we’d come all this way and what’s the worst that could happen? We could come in last? Eh. We could fall down? Eh. We could throw up? Eh. None of it sounded that bad, so we went for it.

Sure enough, first time up the hill, I popped my chain, struggled up that hill, and threw up in my mouth a little at the top. Pretty much my worst-case scenarios, but I was still moving. Then there was a wicked descent – fast and cold. One more loop to go. One more trip up Mud Mountain. I passed the transition area and could have decided to call it a day. Which is more interesting — puking/chain-popping or quitting? At least I’d have a better story.

Second loop I was faster on the flats which made me feel pretty good. Although I didn’t see a single soul in front or behind me which didn’t feel so good. Was I last? Probably. Oh well. The second trip up Mud Mountain, I was pedaling my butt off (I’ve since managed to get my butt back), when I realized I was going about 1 MPH. I was basically stopped, but still trying to pedal. Slowly, the realization hit me that I wasn’t actually moving anymore. I couldn’t unclip from my pedals fast enough and TIMBER…. Luckily, I was deliriously tired so I laughed as I lay underneath my bike. After a short rest, I picked myself up and kept biking.

Back at T2, I was elated that I got to rack the bike and run again! Funny how much more I love running now that I’m forced to bike and swim too. Many of you know the feeling of trying to run after a hard bike ride. Your legs feel like lead. You feel wobbly, slow, and heavy. It usually takes me about 30 minutes to loosen the legs up and get a rhythm. Unfortunately, this particular run was only 3.8 miles. It took me 32 minutes. So basically I felt normal for about two minutes. Most of the run felt super duper slow, but it turned out to be a great pace. I even passed two people on this last leg. So I didn’t end up last. I came in 105th out of 111. Nice! There were some additional DNF’s (Did Not Finish), so I was happy to have finished. And I wasn’t last! Almost, but not quite.

Puking, falling, and almost finishing last does make for a funny little story.

A week or so later I was finally ready to get on my bike again. Where were my bike shoes? Dealing with post-race exhaustion and all our gear as we left the race site, I figured I’d left my bike shoes somewhere in Enumclaw. I had almost written them off and even bought a new pair when I decided to email the race director. She had them! Someone found them in the parking lot and turned them in! Awesome! And she lives in Auburn so I didn’t have to go back to Enumclaw and get them. Cause I don’t think I need to go to Enumclaw again for a long time. Mud Mountain lurks down there. And if Christine sends me the link again next year… who am I kidding, yeah, I’d probably do it again.

I’m kind of a big deal in West Seattle

I ran the West Seattle 5K on Sunday — twas a great race! Congratulations to my wonderful friend, Jo, the race director for this 5K, who put a whole lot of heart and soul into it. Turned out to be a great event, raising money for West Seattle High School. Loved the run along Alki Beach!

For me, this 5K was almost a personal record (PR), but missed it by two seconds. I both blame and give credit to my fast friend David (fast as in speed, not the other way) who kept me moving along at a great pace, but then also kept asking me questions about my Ironman training. I was completely winded by mile 2! I’m not much of a conversationalist at a 7:25 pace. But I never would have ran that fast by myself, so thanks, David!

If you’ve never run a race, there’s typically an event photographer that’s out there taking pictures of everyone. They post the pics on their website according to race number, and you get to view them to see if you want to buy them. One such service even offers to put your desired photo on a mug, in a frame, or on labels for a 6-pack of Jones Soda.  The West Seattle race used FotoJack.com for the race photos. You go to their site, search for the race – lo and behold – check out the photo they decided to feature on the main page for the West Seattle 5K:

Too bad you can’t read the Outdoor Fitness Company logo on my shirt better. I’m thrilled that it actually looks like I’m running. And I’m not pointing.

I’m kind of a big deal in West Seattle.

(My vanity made me really want to post this picture on my blog so I finally learned how to upload pictures. There’s no stopping me now!)

Drinking Carbs

For all you dieters on Atkins or some other form of carb-less diet, first of all – what the heck is wrong with you? I mean, think of all the bagels, pizza, pastries, french fries, and cheeseburger buns that you should be enjoying!

But I really think you need to be informed that I am now drinking carbs. That’s right, when I wake up in the morning before a race or long training run or ride, I scoop out some Carbo-Pro into my glass of water and drink it down. I’m drinking a nice tall glass of carbs. Ahhhh… refreshing.

This whole Ironman thing is nutty! Whose idea was this anyway?

Tulip Pedal Race Report

I owe ya’all a couple of race reports. Here’s one I’ve been sitting on for way too long for no good reason. It’s the start of my biking season for 2010 - The Tulip Pedal….

I biked 41 miles back on April 17th at the Tulip Pedal in La Connor, WA. My race report in 10 words or less:

Wind. Wet. Dirt. No tulips. Whole lotta pedal.

In just one word: sucky.

But I’m glad I did it. Or at least I’m glad it’s over. The first 15 miles or so were pretty fun – a little roller, not a lot of wind, biking with good friends. But then we got into the flat nothing and the wind was awful! All I did for about 10 miles was watch the rooster tail in front of me spray mud into my face while I tried to draft. I was completely polka-dotted from head to toe with tiny little dirt splatters. Pretty funny. The picture I took on my phone didn’t do it justice. I was filthy! I wanted to take pictures of the tulips, but there just weren’t any. Or rather, there were about 15. We counted.

The race website advertised support at the rest stops which was supposed to include “food”. There was no food, just cookies and some fruit. So by mile 30-something I was absolutely starving. I pulled over to an espresso stand on the side of the road, but Pops (my draftee) didn’t really want to stop. We decided to cut it short and head back which would give us about 40 miles. Perfect! I had no desire to finish 60. It just wasn’t fun for me and I think he was tired of pulling me along. So we headed back and went to Mt Vernon for cheeseburgers and beers! Yay! That was definitely the best part.

Any race that ends in cheeseburgers and beers make it a success!

Mt Si Relay – behind the scenes

I published my write-up on the Mt Si Relay (and cursing that thirsty, thirsty bird), but I feel like I need to add on a big “thank you” to the Barnharts, the behind the scenes support staff that enabled our team to have a super successful day. One of our runners lived in North Bend so his wife, daughters, and dog traveled from hand off to hand off along with us, carrying camping chairs, buying subs, and just offering general support to us runners. These ladies gave up part of their day to follow us on our run. At the end of the race, they invited us into their home, bought us pizza, offered their shower, and then let us crash their hot tub. Their hospitality really made the whole day complete! I’d never met them prior to that morning, yet they welcomed all of us into their home as if we were their best friends. It was truly a wonderful day from start to finish! Thanks to my team who showed up to run hard and have fun, and also to our fantastic support staff behind the scenes!

Curse the Thirsty Bird

Our team of five, “Beauties and the Beasts”, finished the Mt Si Relay, 59 miles, in 8:07 on Sunday, April 11th. Not too shabby. The hardest part, I think, was meeting two team members at 6:15 a.m. to carpool out to North Bend. But I made it with minutes to spare! My first victory of the day! And I had my coffee (thank goodness for Starbucks VIA) so all was right with the world.

I ended up running the hilliest legs since our team captain injured her neck the day before the race and was instructed by her physical therapist not to run.  Apparently, she doesn’t listen to her physical therapist much because she did run, of course, but felt like the uphill might be too much for her. So we switched our running order and I took on the 2nd and 7th legs of the 10. My first leg was 6.2 miles. Sounds easy enough, but the first mile was uphill. I didn’t do a good job warming up before I started, and it was a struggle to get moving in the cool morning air. Once it leveled out a little, I got in the groove and knocked it out in just over 48 minutes. I laughed to myself after about 40 minutes because I felt like I was finally warmed up as I realized I was almost done. Typical.

Then I had several hours to wait until my next leg. I tried to eat, drank a lot of Gatorade, and cheered for my teammates. They all rocked! Everyone put in a great effort, which I really appreciate. I don’t care how fast you are, just run hard and have fun. One of the guys on the team asked me how to run the 2nd leg – how to pace yourself and how it feels – because I’d run a couple other relays before. All I could say was “It’s your last leg and you’re done so you just have to go balls out.” We all laughed. But what else can you do? You’ve gotta leave it all out there, right?

So my next leg was 7.1 miles and the hilliest leg. Wait, let me clarify – not hills. No. Just uphill. The whole time. The sun had come out so it was such a beautiful run through the trees with the sun peeking through to warm me up. I got a little too warm, but I had decided to run with my water bottle which turned out to be the right decision.  I enjoyed waving to other runners passing the opposite way. This is where I saw my ultra friends who were running the 50-miler. One guy finished 50 miles in under 8 hours. Holy moly! It was really inspiring to see him, head down, determined, grinding it out. Wow. Then I saw my friend Stephanie and told her she looked awesome and strong! She slowed long enough to throw out a few choice swear words to indicate how she was feeling, but she really did look strong. Turns out she was the 3rd female finisher. Again – wow! Her boyfriend was not far behind, running steady. Really inspirational! So I pushed myself a little harder knowing I was almost done with 7 miles and they were almost done with 50. All I can say is wow. When a passing runner told me I was just over a mile from the next handoff and my finish, I was elated and somehow got a second wind. I kept thinking how I’d told my teammate to run “balls out” and figured I better walk the talk. Or run the talk, as the case may be. Looking back I have to giggle at myself because I threw down my water bottle with authority, determined to go balls out. I reset my posture and gave it all I had. I have no idea how fast I was running, but it felt like a sprint to the finish. It felt so good! Finished in about 64 minutes, so just about a 9 minute mile pace. I felt good about that. And I felt so strong at the end, I could’ve kept running.  But I was done and now my only job was to recover and cheer for my team. They were awesome – supportive, funny, easy going, and they ran hard. So great!

I would be remiss if I didn’t take the opportunity to curse the “Thirsty Bird” here. My second leg was hard. Harder than it should’ve been. Yes, it was uphill and yes, it was 7.1 miles. But neither of those should’ve been so difficult. The problem was that on Saturday morning at our outdoor workout group, I taught everyone this great exercise called the thirsty bird. As I showed everyone how you stand on one leg, arms up overhead, dip forward slowly (like that toy bird that leans forward to drink water, then tips back up. Apparently also known as “Happy Dippy Drinking Bird Toy“. But we just call the darn bird “Thirsty”.), I warned to take it very slowly because it takes its toll on your hamstrings. It’s not a difficult exercise, but I always feel it the next day. Instead of heeding my own warning, I did the thirsty bird along with everyone else. The following day – race day – as I was running up that gradual uphill on my 2nd leg, I cursed a lot of things, but mostly that stupid, thirsty bird. Why so thirsty little bird? Why? My hamstrings were so tight, there was no warming them up. They wouldn’t let me stride out so I was forced to work on short, quick steps. I tried and tried to pick up the speed but  finally realized there was no point injuring myself and decided I was running as fast as I could and my team would understand. I settled in to my stride and ran my best.

I learned a lot at this relay. I met some great people. I saw some really inspirational ultra runners. I gained a little more confidence in my own running. And the moral of my story is if you’ve got a long run on Sunday, don’t do the thirsty bird on Saturday because his thirstiness tries to prevent you from really going balls out. Lessons learned.