I Am a Moron

On the schedule: Wednesday night track workout, with the D.C. Road Runners: 10x400, with 100 recovery, which, with a 1 mile warmup and 1 mile cooldown, would give me a nice 5 miles.

I haven't been on the track in <cough> weeks, so I was a little worried. Ten repeats? Really? Maybe I could shoot for five and see if I'm coughing up a lung.

I met up with my New Triathlon Program mentee, who is two years my senior (yes, you read that right), and runs 7 minute miles. Yes, I'm mentoring her. Don't ask.

She agreed to pace me to hit my target 400 time, 2:16-2:22, based on the handy McMillan running calculator.

Off we go! Whee! I am FEELING GOOD!

First 400: 2:22

Perfect.

2nd 400: 2:03

Damn! But, OK, that was a total fluke. No way did I just run an 8 minute mile.

3rd 400: 1:58

What??! I'm not even out of breath! I must be in way better shape than I thought.

4th 400: 2:01

OK, I am in AWESOME SHAPE. I can do 10 of these standing on my head. I'm barely sweating! I am en fuego.

5th 400: 1:55 I am seriously not even trying. Have I finally conquered running?? I RULE!

And that's when my mentee and I split up, so she could, as she colloquially put it, "Challenge myself a little bit."

No problem.

I'm amazed I managed to carry on a conversation. How is that possible?? In fact, I vaguely recall um, being unbelievably annoyed by peeps chatting on the track. "If you're chatting, you ain't working!"

So, you know where this is going, right?

6th 400: 1:55 God, I'm so consistent!

7th 400: 1:5...wait a minute....how come I'm starting and ending at the exact same place even though I have 100 recovery in between? How is that possible??? [Wheels start slowly turning as brain processes question. And...cue lightbulb.]

ARE YOU ON CRACK? HELLO????

YOU ARE DOING 300s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU DID NOT SUDDENLY START RUNNING 8 MINUTE MILES!!!!

Nevermind 10x400, you need 10xdopeslap!

8th 400: 2:22 Ah, yes, this suddenly feels harder. And familiar.

9th 400: 2:34 Oh HOW THE MIGHTY FALL.

10th 400: 2:23 Le sigh.

In my defense, if I hadn't broken my NO TALKING rule, I would have been paying attention, and I would have realized that if you run 400, with 100 recovery, it's not really possible, mathematically, physically, or on any other plane of existence, to start and end at the same place.

Oh yes, you want ME as your MENTOR.

Sign up here.

Pushing Boundaries

Before I didn't finish the RRCA 10-Mile Challenge, I did finish talking to a roomful (at LEAST 100. Prolly more like 200. Or 2000.) of candidates for D.C. Tri's New Triathlete Program 2009.

I was asked to join the volunteer coordinators at the NTP Orientation last Saturday. and just "talk about your experience."

So we all know that fear of public speaking ranks before fear of death, right?

Right.

Though I was a little nervous beforehand, I felt like I knew my subject—me—pretty well.

So here's an abbreviated version of what I told them, in no particular order.

I told them that the club president, answering my general query about the NTP, talked me into doing the Olympic distance race that the program was training for. How other people believing in you can make YOU believe in YOU.

I told them I got an "F" in gym in high school. That I had run for a few years. That I was 52.

I told them that last year was hands down the best year of my life.

I described my journey to my first triathlon, the Philadelphia Insurance Sprint, and how I almost cried at the start because I thought my life would be ending soon—that's how scared I was.

I told them that I am the shyest person on earth (quite possibly true) and that I forced myself to go to things where I didn't know anyone, and how scary, but crucial, it is to do that.

I told them about the first "bric-nic" I went to, which I had to drag myself to because I didn't know anyone and had a crap bike, but how I went anyway and had So Much Fun It Should Be Illegal.

I told them that it takes guts to finish last.

I described the misery of being the last swimmer out of the water at the New Jersey Tri., racing to the bike racks only to see them empty, riding that long course by myself, running 10k in the 200F weather, and having to run past the finish (at this point my co-presenters started clearing their throats. What, you don't think this is a great sales pitch???).

But I eventually got to the punch line, which was: Coming back down the final leg of the run, down the hill, convinced everyone was gone and I was last, only to see and hear my NTP peeps had all WAITED FOR ME and were rushing the net cheering MY name.

Quite simply one (out of two) of the best days of my life.

I told them some other stuff too. How much help they would get from other triathletes—even Ironmen rode 12 mph with me, helping me out. How they'd be their own best mentors, to show up for stuff, to put themselves out there and take risks.

Kind of like I did standing up in front of a roomful of strangers.

Plus? I think they liked my little talk.

I Finally Won Something!

I was out of town a few weeks ago when D.C. Tri's New Triathlete Program held its graduation and we all turned from NTP'ers into OTP'ers (Old Triathletes). Prizes were bestowed, and although I have yet to get a definitive (or any) list I do know that my friend minime won the award for "Most Enthusiastic Swim Finisher."

(No that's not me. As if.) See? You can't argue with that award.

Naturally, I was mad jealous, although I had heard whispers that I too, had won something, and that it was "most spirit" or something. Which was so thrilling in itself to me that I made it my Facebook status and told everyone at work. I had NO IDEA there was like, an actual PRIZE or anything. I mean, I thought maybe I'd get some free body glide.

So this week when I got a cryptic e-mail from our club president, addressed to me, minime and another person, saying

Hey guys,

You've all won a free entry to Nation's Tri for next year. I don't have the code for you to sign in yet but I'll have it VERY soon. Just wanted to let you know that I haven't forgotten about it.

Hope you're all well,

I was naturally baffled, skeptical, and unbelieving. So at last night's holiday party, I cornered said president and asked him: Say what??

It turns out that I won the "most inspirational" award! And FREE ENTRY into Nation's!! Which I was just the other day moaning about how expensive it is ($165 until January when it jumps to $190).

All I can say is: I am not worthy!!

And hell's bells. I haven't won anything since I won the inaugural "Martha Stewart" award at my company's annual cookie party (the title being slightly ironic).

This is the best present ever.

EVER.

I guess this means I'm definitely in for Nation's!

Thanks, guys. Back atcha times infinity.

My other favorite NTP-er-now-OTP-er Sandy made this FANTASTIC video montage from all of NTPs escapades last spring and summer. This year was the best year of my life, bar none, all because of my D.C. Tri peeps, and I hope this video makes you cry as much as it made me



Late add: Don't forget to watch the Ironman World Championship (Kona) Sat. Dec. 13, from 2-4 p.m., on NBC! Need more inspiration? Check out the trailer.

New Jersey State Triathlon Race Report: The View From the Back

There was a fatality yesterday. A 52-year triathlete, John Hobgood, died during the swim, and his body was not discovered until late Sunday night. It's horrifying and shocking and sad, and reading that news put things into stark perspective fast. My heart goes out to his family. I can't even begin to imagine what they are feeling.

I hope my little story will not sound too mundane in light of this tragedy.

We left our hotel at 5:15 to get to the race site by 5:30. Transition opened at 5:45.

Transition, just like LBTEPA and Jessie taught me.

Then there was some pump drama:
Pump. Drama.

There was also some number drama, when I realized that the volunteer had put my age on me instead of my race number. Thanks to whomever gave me the tip to bring markers. Then there was rack drama, and some drama with women around me not sharing space. I guess they missed the memo. The memo about being nice. Whatever! If triathlon teaches you nothing else, it teaches you to let things go. There's already enough things to worry about, you don't need to add more.

All my D.C. tri peeps were fantastic, walking around taking hundreds of pictures and checking each other's transition areas. It was so much fun, I hardly had time to get nervous.

Carolina, me, Casey, Sandy, Ryan, Bryan, Heather

The Bad News Bears

I had to leave my glasses in transition, so if I wanted to see anything, I had to put my prescription goggles on. Walking around in black spandex and goggles is a look, people, believe me.

There were about 210 D.C. Tri Club members competing, and we all walked down to the swim start to watch each other take off. It was awesome to have so many people you know surrounding you and encouraging you, cheering and trash talking.

I love this photo! L-R: Lindsey, me, Greg, Sandy, Bryan (photo courtesy Sandy C.)

The Swim:
My wave—females 50-59 and male and female first-timers any age— started around 8:45. I had been up and on my feet since 4 a.m. by the time I got in the water. Amazingly, I was not nervous. I knew I could do this. I'd swum 1,500 meters many times without stopping.

The water was nice and warm, and I just told myself this was just like swimming in the pool.

Err, not so much.

Right away I was off course, alone, and last. I tried to speed up, which was dumb, because all that did was leave me breathless. I tried like hell to be in the moment, one of several mantras for the day, but it was tough. Funny how this never happens in the pool! The volunteers in kayaks were so attentive—one even told me to get the water out of my goggles. They were that close. Plus they shouted encouragement. Just. Freaking. Awesome. The only way out was to keep breathing and put one arm in front of the other. With 800 meters left, I finally started swimming smooth and easy.

Swim: 46:42

I was slightly disappointed because I had done this distance—and longer— so many times. But whatcha gonna do??

Unlike Philly, there were no big strong people to help you look elegant getting out of the water. Lucky for me, NOD was there to document everything.

I am too standing up.

This is not your mother's triathlon. Wait! It actually IS your mother's triathlon.

Running uphill to transition.

T1: 4:35 Which was an AWESOME time! But it was mentally rough running into an empty transition area. I tried to just focus on racing my race. From my rack to the bike mount was about 125 yards. I ran as best I could in my cleats over tarmac and grass, uphill (again with the hills!), and finally got to the bike mount, where the kindly volunteer told me, "Don't worry, you have all the space you need to mount!" since there is no one else here!

Thanks!

How does this thing work again?

The Bike:
The bike was one long loop and one short loop that you did twice. I felt confident because I had put in the mileage and knew that I could do this. Many, many, many people blew by me and I started thinking that maybe I wasn't so far behind after all. But they were soon gone, and I was alone, which was just hard.

If only I had remembered!!

If only I had remembered what my friend Sandy told me this morning, as we were debriefing via e-mail:

You were definitely NOT alone out there. Even though you didn't see us until you came around the bend to the finish, we were all running right by your side the whole time....cheering you on in our hearts!!

When I read that? I started crying.

I still had fun on the bike. I tried to remember that I was in a race, despite all evidence to the contrary. Like say, competitors, for instance. It was pretty flat so no downhills to fly down, and conveniently? No uphills! We were sharing the road with traffic, and the cops were fantastic, holding back cars when they saw me. I felt like a rock star. I thanked every single one of them.

I also sang "Woodstock" (Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young) about 10,000 times in my head. I have no idea why.

Bike 39K: 1:32:53 (15 mph) I was pretty happy with my time. Exactly what I expected.

T2 3:45: Everyone was gone, which was all kinds of depressing. And the ladies who shared my rack had taken ALL the spaces, so I wasted time shoving bikes out of the way. So. Annoying. But Number One Daughter and BF were at every stage cheering me on and ringing the cowbell which brought a smile to my face.

T2 is a lonely place for the back o' the pack.

The Run:
Two out and backs. Out 1.5 shady miles and back PAST the finish, where I could hear people cheering finishers (oh the humanity!) and then out another 1.5 sunny and slightly hilly miles, and back. I started out feeling OK, not the usual legs-in-cement feeling. That was soon replaced by the death-march shuffle, though, so it all evened out. I saw a few people I knew on the course, which was nice, and managed to pass a few people. 21st C Mom had wisely suggested that I come up with a run strategy, so I set my watch for run 10 minutes, walk 1 minute. I also planned to walk all the water stops. I stuck to run 10, walk 1 for probably the first 5k.

First 5k. Stick a camera on me and I'll run every time.

NOD and BF were fantastic, cheering and telling me I was right on pace. Which I think I was at that point.

And then? It was all over.

Only it so wasn't all over!!

I was either being passed as I took walk breaks or passing as I started running. I didn't feel bad. Then again, I didn't feel so good! After about ten hours, I saw the 1/2 mile to go sign and I started running again, this time downhill. I could see the finish in the distance.

The Perfect Ending:
You know how time and distance seem to blur in a race? Well, I was dead certain that the finish was not the finish, that there was going to be some crazy-ass run around the park and not a straight shot into the chute. So certain, that I started walking again, figuring I still had a long way to go.

I was wrong. Someone yelled to me that the finish was right around the corner, and I looked up and saw a tidal wave of people rushing to the net calling "Go Jeanne!"

I could NOT believe it.

There were all my friends, cheering like maniacs—for ME!

Let me tell you: It's very hard to maintain the death-march shuffle with that kind of support, so I managed to kick it in to the most beautiful sound in the world. People cheering for ME.



I cried. I kissed Simon (sorry big guy!) I hugged everyone.

Me kissing Ironman Simon. Words I will not likely ever write again.

Run 10K: 1:27:01 (14:02 min miles)

How could ANYONE be disappointed with friends like that?!

To quote from the final scene of "It's a Wonderful Life,"

Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.

Not to wax hyperbolic (as if!), but it was like V-E Day, V-J Day, Christmas, New Year's and the happiest day of my life.

But it took me from the this morning until 11:37 p.m. to realize that.

Final time: 3:54:54

After much hugging and crying and kissing everyone packed up and left. We were all a little sad because this race was the end of the New Triathlete Program—as one person said, "the most fun I've had as a grown up." The masseuses were gone and so was the food, so the kidz and I loaded up the car, I did a little striptease in the parking lot and we headed to WaWa (the "7-11 of Whole Foods"--Lindsey), where I forced myself to eat a soft pretzel and chocolate milk. I had only had oatmeal, three Gus and Gatorade all day long. (And God only knows how I managed it, but I gained 4 lbs from that regimen. Sigh.)

Then I drove five hours through a hurricane back to D.C.

I thought I'd feel like death on a cracker today, but aside from being a little tired, I feel fine!

And I'm pretty sure that I want to try that again!

Ride, Sally, Ride

REGISTRATION IS CLOSED

The New Triathles Program (NTP) 2008 closed in a record 35 minutes! To those that we were unable to register, we apologize and hope that you intend to become active in the general membership of DC Tri. We have countless opportunities to help you get through your first triathlon and hope that you will still plan to register for the NJ State Triathlon and join us as we go for our fourth consecutive USAT Mid-Atlantic Club Championship!

February 1, Friday morning, 8:50 a.m.: I should have been ensconced in a training room deep in the bowels of the Washington Hilton Hotel, learning all the ins-and-outs of Day Two of Project Management. Instead, I sat in my office, fingers hovering over the keyboard, waiting for NTP to open. As the clock ticked toward 9:00 a.m., I loaded and reloaded the page, not wanting to miss my opportunity (which, as you know, only knocks once). The minute I saw the NTP Program on the sign-up page, I pounced, filled out all the info...and MADE IT IN!

(I didn't miss anything at the PM class btw. In fact, I made it there by 9:05. Just in case anyone is wondering.)

But the point is: I'm IN!

So today, Sunday, the day after Saturday, the day of my long run, in which I manage to get increasingly slower week after week (yesterday--10 miles, 1:54), after having eaten three donuts at church, coming home to my disheveled apartment, and trying to decide between cleaning up, buying groceries or doing the laundry, I looked out the window at a beautiful sunny sky with 55F, and instead decided to check out the warm-up plan (that's the plan you follow for the month before you start the actual triathlon plan) and discovered today was 50 minutes on the bike, followed by a 10-minute run.

Pfft! A 10-minute run! You're making me laugh!

So I flung myself and some gear into the car to drive to work, because that's where the bike, and come to think of it, the trail, are.

Twenty minutes later I was riding mustang sally. For 50 minutes. I'm sure I've got every part of that bike set at some weird angle, since my knee hurt and my back was killing me. Anyway, I did 9 miles in 50 minutes, so that's what I like about the bike. When's the last time you heard me say I did NINE MILES IN 50 MINUTES??

I was sailing past all those runners. Ha! Until I had to turn around and realized, for the millionth time, that this trail is DOWNHILL ONE WAY. Which means: UPHILL THE OTHER WAY.

My favorite part was going up the River Road bridge, and flying down the other side, where there were some walkers coming towards me. Ambling. On my side of the trail. One was a kid of about 17, holding a coffee cup, staring straight at me. Since he was staring at me, I made the foolish mistake of thinking that he SAW ME. No movement on his part reflected that any such impression had indeed been made. So I did what anyone would do. I screamed, "Moooooooooove!!!" at the top of my voice.

That worked.

I made it back to work, parked the bike and headed back up to the trail for a 10-minute run.

Holy freakin' hell.

Who invented this?? I'd heard about "wobbly legs" off the bike, etc., but geeeze! Imagine running with giant cement blocks on your feet instead of running shoes. That's what hopping off a bike and trying to run feels like. Kids riding Big Wheels were passing me. Old ladies with walkers and oxygen tanks. You get the picture.

I managed one mile in 10:17, but all I can say is: I'm really gonna give new meaning to the word "SPRINT" on June 21.