New neighbors and lots of racing

I’m sitting in a mostly peaceful backyard in Skaha, British Columbia with no training to do and no internet. Both are a little strange. But I’ve been excessively delinquent in the blogosphere, so I’m going to attempt to recap my last 6 races before the inevitable IM Canada race report. I worry that it will be a novelette of sorts, but I’m going to colo(u)r (I’m in Canada, after all) each race report so as the facilitate the jumping in between races of interest. The legend is as follows:

Red = Vancouver International ½ IM – July 12
Blue = Xterra Bozeman Wild Horse Creek – July 26
Green = Troika ½ Ironman – August 2
Purple = Coeur d’Alene Scenic Challenge (Olympic) – August 8
Orange = Hulaman ½ IM – August 16

I’m going to start on a tangent (is that possible?) by mentioning that a few weeks ago, when I was up before dawn getting ready for a race, I noticed two juvenile skunks playing in the backyard. They were so feisty and cute that I nearly let my oatmeal boil over while watching them. Oatmeal lovers will understand the potential for disaster here. I forgot about the skunklets until that evening, when Aaron saw them running around again and then darting under the shed – their apparent home.

I know that certain neighbors would immediately call any number of exterminators whose numbers they likely have on hand, but I really like skunks (especially little ones) and I don’t even think they smell too badly. My only experience to the contrary was the time that my mom and I accidentally captured a skunk in a Sherman trap while trying to instead catch a feral cat that had left me with numerous stitches in my lower lip. A humane society official told us that spraying the skunk with a hose would make its tail so heavy that it wouldn’t be able to raise it to spray. Let my official record state that spraying a skunk with a hose does not, in fact, incapacitate it. Instead, it makes the skunk really eager to spray. That particular skunk musk was a little intense. Nonetheless, these little guys are welcome. I certainly have no use for the underside of our shed, and I’m glad they’ve found one.

At this point it may appear as though I’ve been spending way too much time staring at the backyard and not enough time doing blog-worthy things, i.e. training and racing. Such an assertion wouldn’t be too far off. I really do spend an inordinate amount of time watering my plants and making sure every last weed is plucked from my meager veggie garden. But there has been racing aplenty and below I will attempt to summarize it in as unboring a fashion as possible.

July 12: Vancouver International ½ Ironman.

I had wanted to do this race for a while. The course gets rave reviews, there was a purse at stake, and it was to be the precursor for Lifesport pro camp in Victoria – a not-to-be-missed training extravaganza. Sure, it was only 3 weeks after IM Coeur d’Alene, but I felt lively and I seriously wanted something to break up the post-IM feeling of sloth and chubbiness. Silly, I know, but Ironmans can have that effect on a person. This person remedies those feelings by doing more races, though a psychiatrist might be a more fitting solution.

One of the nicer aspects of the Vancouver race experience was being put up by Lifesport coach Mark Shorter and his wife Cara in beautiful North Vancouver. My “roomie” was teammate Magali Tisseyre, who, it turns out, is good for a load of laughs. It also turns out that she is very good at triathlons. A swell combination indeed.

I just have to briefly explain (because it’s one of the few pictures that I actually took while away) that we accosted and seized the keys of an outstandingly drunk driver while previewing the bike course the day before the race. I actually had very little to do with the whole ordeal except to shout things like “holy cow!” while Mark was on the phone with the cops and we were following said driver as he swerved into medians, losing bits of his car along the way. Now you know the rest of the story, but really I just think it’s funny that Magali actually looks like a bit of a heroin addict in trouble with the authorities in this photo. And Mark may well be pretending not to know her.

ANYWAY, the race itself was a bit of a disaster. The swim was decent because it was a mass start and I found myself in a solid group of swimmers. For the first time ever, I was kicked in the face, but it wasn’t as bad as everyone makes is out to be. Thanks Sam J My biking legs weren’t as trashed from Ironman as I feared they might be, and I did enjoy segments of the course, but the run was a WHOLE different story. The first 5km were okay, and then I descended into survival mode. I struggled to stay below my full ironman run pace for the entire 2nd half of the run. In the end, I finished 4th and discouraged. It was the perfect way to start training camp.

Lifesport training camp – 13-20 July:

I am proud to report that, after getting off to a slow start, I put all of my bad-ass triathlete teammates to shame . . . in croquet. Beyond that one opportunity for total sporting domination, I didn’t have a whole lot to give. Camp was a challenge, both physically and mentally. I was dealing with a level of fatigue and burnout that was actually quite novel to me, but camp did prove what camps always tend to prove – every time I think I can’t climb one more hill or complete one more interval, I can. Ultimately, I am so thankful for my coach and my teammates, and my awesome homestays Dewain (pictured below – don’t ask), and Judy. Heather lakeside on our solo ride after we got dropped by the group before we even started. It was fun to catch up though.

After camp I headed back to Spokane for a week of solo training before another “just for fun” race. The drive was a little scenic.

Xterra Bozeman Wild Horse Creek – 26 July:

I’m not exactly sure what compelled me to climb aboard a mountain bike again after the Righteous Richland debacle, but I was eager to take a road trip, and where better to go than Bozeman, MT. After all, my sister lives there, as do good friends of Aaron. The race venue was gorgeous. Hyalite canyon is a must visit location for anyone fond of mountain scenery. I hadn’t taken the altitude into account, however (~7000 ft), and the first few strokes of my swim warm-up proved to be a preview of the gasping that would ensue for the rest of the day.

The race officials said that the water temperature was 55 degrees, and it did seem chilly, but not that bad. Surprisingly, the swim went just fine. I had a crummy start, and ended up having to swim around a lot of people after the first buoy. Nonetheless, once I found clean water and committed myself to breathing every two strokes, it was super-easy. I was the first woman out of the water. Miraculous.

The problem with being the first woman out of the water in an Xterra race, is that it meant that I spent the next 30 minutes pulling off to the side of the very technical single track to let people pass. I didn’t want to be “that person” who holds everyone up, and since I didn’t have a whole lot invested in the event, I was happy to let some outstanding mountain bikers pass me by. The first 4-5 miles were ridiculously difficult for me – roots, rocks, mud, and steep pitches. I’m a road biker, that’s my excuse. I remember thinking that there was no way I could do 16 miles of that. Then, there was a 1 mile section of dirt road followed by a long climb up a fire road, and I passed nearly everyone back. I couldn’t believe how casually people were rolling along the “easy” parts.

I felt like I had a pretty good lead over the other women at the top of the climb, and I would only have to just down the other side. But it wasn’t that easy. The climb hadn’t been technical, but the descent was. Not only was it very steep, but it was rocky and the lightweight wheels on my borrowed mountain bike were getting tossed around by the uneven terrain. It was very disconcerting, and I really didn’t want to get hurt and thereby sabotage the rest of my triathlon season. So I did a lot of pulling over and letting people pass again. The woman who eventually won was going absolutely gangbusters down that descent. She was one gutsy gal!

Even with my granny-like timidity (now I’m just waiting to be sent a youtube video of some kick-ass granny mountain biker), I ended up sliding out around a corner on the descent. I wasn’t going very fast, but I fell hard on some sharp rocks and it hurt! My hip throbbed the most, but I knew that my shoulder and knee were probably the most damaged. My foot was still clipped in when my knee hit the rocks and there was a scary twist in addition to the impact that made me want to cry. I felt it start to swell and I took a few moments to indulge my “what am I doing here?” self pity. But I still had to get down the mountain, so I got back on the bike for loop number two.

Loop two unfolded in essentially the same way. I rode past everyone on the non-technical climb and got annihilated on the descent. Just as I was about to reach the corner where I had fallen on the first loop, I found Aaron on the side of the trail walking his bike. He had flatted and hadn’t brought any spares and was in a pretty foul mood. I tossed him my spares bag and carried on. It’s pretty cool to be able to genuinely assist another competitor during a race, but it’s especially rewarding when he’s your fiancé.

My knee had swollen a bit more by the time I got to the run, and the impact of running was uncomfortable. But running on trails is WAY more fun than biking on trails. I was so much happier to have my legs in contact with the ground. It was a two loop run, and I happily ran along with no expectations over the relentlessly hilly course. At the turnaround for the 2nd loop my sister told me that I could “catch her.” I assumed that she was referring to crazy brave mountain biker woman, but my lungs could only take in so much oxygen on the climbs, so my overall effort in the chase was limited. In the end, I lost by 1 minute. I got a little frustrated thinking about all the time I spent dinking around on the mountain bike course, but had to remind myself that it was a “for fun” race and that was the mentality that I adhered to during the race.

Despite feeling rather banged up and having a worrisome shoulder condition (sprained biceps tendon, it turned out), it was a really fun trip. I love when Aaron and I get to race together, and we got to spend the rest of a beautiful Bozeman afternoon hanging out with the Kalinowskis. It basically involved a lot of swinging, watermelon, and chickens. Then I got to grab lunch with my sister, her boyfriend, and her new kitten Spike. Spike is SO cute; the photos just don’t do him justice. Ultimately, we were treated to a classic Montanan thunderstorm – a perfect weekend.

The next few days of training were pretty rough, as swimming was compromised by my shoulder, and running was compromised by my knee. I could tell that both were improving though, so I tried not to get too anxious about it. Then I got hit by a car while riding home from work. It was my first such incident, and the driver was very apologetic. It made me not hate her, even though she is a VERY lousy driver. I’m tempted to put her name on the blog, since she never actually returned my phone calls after the incident (I wasn’t clever enough to get insurance information or call the police at the time of impact), but I don’t really believe in vigilante justice.

I’m actually really, really lucky because I had a split second to react, which lessened the impact. Also, because I was riding home from work, I was wearing a backpack and that cushioned me when I endoed. I considered calling the cops after the fact, but like the shoulder and knee, I could tell that my injuries were going to heal sufficiently with a bit of time. The sore neck and coccyx were to be expected, and they got better within a week. The most lingering malady was curious – my xiphoid process. I have no idea how one injures a xiphoid process by getting hit by a car, but it was 2 full weeks before I could do any core work again.

The xiphoid couldn’t keep me from doing my very favorite race the following weekend though – our local half ironman, the Troika. Troika was my first ever half ironman, and I learned a thing or two about running 13.1 miles on exposed asphalt in 97 degrees. It’s never very fun, and Troika invariably delivers in this regard. Actually, last year was the exception – it was only about 82, if I remember correctly. This year, the forecast was a nice even 100 degrees. My training was going miserably, and I didn’t know if I was just exhausted or if the incessant July heat was undermining my run sessions. I was surprised to be dreading the race. Even the day before, when everyone stopped into work to pick up their race packets, I regretted signing up. Packet pick-up is usually the peak of pre-race excitement, and I was flagging. I think it was the number 100 that loomed and the knowledge of how horribly exposed and miserable that run course can be.

But I went. Buddy Rick picked me up for the whatever consecutive week of racing at way too early an hour. I wasn’t as organized as I should probably have been, and I was probably way too social in transition before the race (someone had to stay busy informing all of her friends that wetsuits were a ridiculous idea on such a hot day). In the end, I didn’t convince anyone to join me in the wetsuitless brigade (flotilla?), but I personally enjoyed the single half hour of the entire day that I did not spend sweating profusely. My swim time (32:07) was a bit demoralizing and I entered T1 feeling unmotivated and distracted. That may be why I lost track of my race number. I ran out of the transition area, realized it was missing, laid my bike on the ground, took off my timing chip, and ran back into transition to look for it. I couldn’t find it, so I pleaded with the officials to not disqualify me. What I hadn’t considered was that in laying my bike on its side, I had allowed all of the water to spill out of my aero bottle, leaving me with a few sips until the aid station at mile 26. Brilliant.

The motivation didn’t really come. I saw Manny cheering on the side of the road around mile 20 and it occurred to me. “I am having the laziest race of my life,” I proclaimed to him. I do love the Troika bike course, so tooling along well below ordinary race effort was kind of nice. It had the added benefit of keeping my legs feeling fresh and light. The short, steep hills in the last few miles of the course that were historically tough for me felt like nothing.

I had two goals for the race. The first was to not completely melt on the run, and the second was to beat my T2 time from last year – 17 seconds. Unfortunately, my numberless status led to some confusion in the volunteers procuring the proper gear bag, so I didn’t meet my goal. In fact, it took me nearly twice as long to get through T2 this year. I did meet my run goal though. The second I started running, I felt fantastic. It was hot, but perhaps after 4 weeks of dealing with July, I was finally acclimated. One hundred degrees is nothing that a cupful of ice in the sports bra can’t combat. I saw loads of friends heading the opposite way on the out-and-back run (local races rock) and pretty much just had a jolly time. It was my 3rd Troika win, but truly, my best ever Troika because I managed a negative split on the run for the first time.

Afterwards, I got to hang out in the medical tent with the awesome B&B crew and Aaron, who I coerced into spending the day volunteering there. It was actually pretty fun, especially given that they had ample amount of ice and fans.

Coach Dan and I made an agreement when I was in Victoria. He didn’t want me to race six consecutive weekends in a row, but I did. So I conceded and we removed the Coeur d’Alene Scenic Challenge from the race schedule. He loaded me up with training all week after Troika, and it would seem logical that 60-odd miles of running would take the edge off of my desire to race. Unfortunately, it didn’t, so two days before the Coeur d’Alene race, I pleaded with my poor coach, who ultimately conceded.

Dan even let me race knowing that I looked like this. Not the result of a mountain bike crash nor a bike/car collision. Rather, it was a paper wasp who had my number. Running is very strange with one eye shut.

Much better by day 3 . . .

I love the Coeur d’Alene Scenic Challenge. The bike leg is really challenging, as it consists primarily of a sustained climb with an awesomely fun, fast descent. After my experience of seriously under biking in Troika, and thus feeling good on the run, I decided to take a similar approach to the bike in Cd’A. Especially on the climb, I really backed of, but I don’t truthfully know how much more I had in me, given the week’s training. The real hilarity of this race is that it was super cold and windy. Six days after racing a half ironman 30 miles away in 100 degrees, I was on my bike and shivering with numb feet. My bike computer went flying off at bottom of the long descent, so I didn’t know how my time was stacking up to previous years, but I was a little disappointed to see after the fact that it was 2 minutes slower than the year before. Sure, I had trained harder in the previous week, conditions were a bit tougher with the wind, and last year I spent most of the bike chasing Annie and Ali Fitch, but I retrospectively don’t think that my under biking strategy was appropriate for an Olympic distance race. Race and learn, race and learn.

The run was a non-event really. My legs felt a tad dissociated from my body and 6.35 miles felt ridiculously short after the half 6 days prior. But I wanted to have a good time and that I did. Like Troika, the course is an out and back so I pretty much got to see the entire Inland Northwest triathlon crowd racing and there were smiles all around. It was a good training day, and I made a point of thanking Coach for letting me do it.

I think that Dan perhaps didn’t want me to race every weekend because races increase the chance of injury. Indeed, when Annie, her mom, and I went huckleberry picking the next day, my calves were feeling ominously tight when we scrambled up hillsides. It was strange because I hadn’t even run very fast. My attempt at a fartlek run the following day was a non-event, and I started to get worried and coerced my co-worker into giving me a calf massage in exchange for GUs. A race much more important than my prior 3 was on tap for the next weekend, and I was worried.

Nonetheless, I packed up the Subaru the next weekend and headed down the Columbia River gorge to Portland, trusting that a fully compressed day in the car would set my calves straight. If nothing else, I figured that the weekend would make for a fun reunion with my Midd friend Kitt, who I shared an apartment with in Italy during our junior year. Kitt is in naturopathy school in Portland and she suggested heavy doses of magnesium and calcium in addition to some additional herbs that I had to turn down because I had no idea what they were. WADA scares me. After meeting up with some other pro athletes, the race director, and some local Ironhead club athletes for dinner, I navigated through SW Portland to find Kitt. It did turn out to be a fun reunion. We hit the Portland farmers market and scored some awesome fresh produce, we made Tuscan ribollita, went for a beautiful walk up some paths along the river and watched some corny old movies. And I raced the Hulaman half IM the next day.

The Hulaman was a lot of fun for me. The swim in Hagg Lake was gorgeous, but it was impossible to see the buoys on the far end of the course from shore because of the glare on the water. I sat on another athlete’s feet for the first 2/3 of the swim though, so I never actually had to do any of the navigating into the sun. I don’t think that the swim course was particularly short, given that I came out of the water with athletes who usually swim faster than I, and I swam a 28:30. That’s good for me! I got onto my bike in T1 only to realize that my front brake was rubbing even though I had checked it meticulously before the race. I wasn’t able to straighten the calipers out, so I just opened up the brake. Naturally, I forgot that my front brake was so loose on the first lap around Hagg Lake when I had to make a turn at the bottom of a descent. Ooops – good thing it wasn’t the rear brake that I had left open!

I loved biking around Hagg Lake. It’s constantly rolling, and while the hills aren’t particularly grueling, it is always going up or down. We biked around the lake 2.5 times before heading north to Forest Grove. I didn’t love that section as much. The gently rolling, surrounding farmland was scenic, but the chip was rough, the headwind incessant, and it was LONELY. I had no idea whether I was gaining on the girls ahead or whether I was losing time to those behind, so I plugged away at an intensity that was somewhere in between my normal ½ bike pace and my relaxed Troika pace. The pace with the headwind was admittedly demoralizing, but I knew that the other girls were fighting the same elements.

When I came into T2, I found out that I was 7 minutes behind Amy and 4 behind Kelly. That was a little more time than I had planned to lose, so I focused on staying ahead of Sam. I kept the pace on the out and back run fairly conservative, so as to be able to respond to any challenge. I was about a mile behind both Kelly and Amy at the turn and about 3 minutes ahead of Sam. So I decided to stay below 6:30 min/miles. I didn’t think that Sam would have sub 6’s in her so soon after Lake Placid, but this is also the girl who placed 2nd in Clearwater a few weeks after placing 2nd in Kona, so I didn’t rest easy until I crossed the finish line in 3rd.

It was great to see fellow Zooter Kelly Couch race so well and to catch up with former Zoot Ultra teammate Amy Marsh after the race. It was a superbly laid back, relaxed post-race atmosphere, complete with a Luau. I met several solid personalities and left the race in a very good mood. It was a nice confidence booster going into Canada, a beautiful day, and a well run event. A paycheck never hurts either.

And now I’m listening to some horrific music whilst I pilfer internet in the Penticton Safeway with Katya and Mark. I have to say, regardless of how the race goes tomorrow (I know only that it will be HOT), it’s been a fun time hanging out with these two all week.

Righteous Richland

I've been nostalgic for my first season doing triathlons lately. I was home from New Zealand for a month, it was July, and I saw an advertisement for the Tiger Tri in Colville. It was a quarter-ironman and it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. I seriously underestimated how long it would take to drive to Colville, how much air to put in my bike tires (I figured that 40 psi was about right), and how capable I was of swimming the front crawl. I backstroked about 70% of the swim, I hammered away on my over sized cross bike, and I ran WAY off course on the run, but when I crossed the finish line I was completely hooked.

I did 3 more triathlons during the next 3 consecutive weekends - a sprint, an olympic, and then finally a 1/2 ironman. I didn't really know what I was getting into with that last one, but I bluffed my way through it and thought that I had just accomplished one of the most incredible feats known to mankind. I signed up for all 4 of those races on race day or the day before. Now most of them sell out well in advance (and some within hours of registration opening). That summer was exceptionally hot and I met many of my now best friends while sitting in the shade eating post-race feeds and awaiting age-group awards. Remembering it all still gives me the warm fuzzies.

For the last couple of years, the majority of my races have been a lot more organized, official, and ceremonious. Bikes get checked in a day in advance, and pro meetings are mandatory. Security bracelets are worn. Awards happen in a banquet tent, and spectators aren't allowed in the finishing area. It's exciting to be able to participate in such world class events, but sometimes I miss just showing up on race day, having a blowout, and sitting in the shade waiting for awards.

When Robin (boss extraordinaire) mentioned the Righteous Richland mtn bike sprint triathlon happening on the 4th of July, my interest was piqued, and it had nothing to do with my awesome mtn biking skills. I tossed the idea around that afternoon (it was July 2) and wrote a quick e-mail to Coach pleading my case. I was pretty skeptical that he would give me the okay, even though I promised to take it easy. Surprisingly, he not only said it would be fine to do, but also encouraged me to "have fun with it," rather than to take it easy. Yay! Then, it was just a matter of coercing a friend or two into coming, and Manny was easy bait at work the next morning. The exchange went something like this:

"Hey Manny, do you want to do a mtn bike sprint triathlon in Richland tomorrow?"
"Sure, that sounds fun. I just need to find a mtn bike."
"I have one you can use."
"Really? Cool."

And so we proceeded to plot our 2 hour road trip to Richland. The only catch was the wake up time. 3:45 am. The last time I had set my alarm at all was 2 weeks prior, for IM Cd'A, and it was set for the exact same time. I guess some triathlon inconveniences are unavoidable, big race or not. Race day registration was a breeze, and due to the unexpected number of participants, the race started 15 minutes late. I love that. "Hey folks, we had a few more people register than expected, so we'll be starting about 15 minutes late."

The swim was downstream in the Columbia River. There wasn't a noticeable current, but given that I swam 800m in eight-odd minutes, I'm guessing that we were indeed getting a push. I had a blast in the swim and actually led my group. We cut back to shore a little bit sooner than the 1st pack and ended up coming in just behind them. You're not likely to ever hear me say this again, but I do wish that the swim had been a little longer. It was fun.

The mountain bike was a slightly different story. I ride my mountain bike about, oh, once or twice a year. I'm not exactly tuned into it the way I am my tri and road bikes. If my seat on my tri bike is a fraction of a mm too high or low, it drives me nuts. I just guessed my seat height on the mtn bike for the day, and it wasn't exactly comfortable, but hey, it's what I deserved. What was a little more uncomfortable was when the nose of the saddle bent sideways after my wipeout. Yeah, I ate a lot of dirt. Just when I started to think that I should start trusting the bike a little more instead of slowing way down for each turn (there were lots of them) I paid the price. In the end though, it was just a lot of dirt, a few scrapes and bruises, and a touch of embarrassment.

Running. Lets just say that I didn't do a whole lot of it in the two weeks between IM Cd'A and Righeous Richland. My legs felt like two noodles dissociated from my body and my turnover was pretty slow. It felt like I hadn't done any running at that intensity for a long time. The more interesting phenomenon was all of the dust and dirt on my legs and torso turning to mud as I got progressively sweatier. Still, I moved up 5 or 6 places in the field to finish 4th overall and 1st woman. I really wasn't in this race to win, I just wanted to have fun and to push my body again (Coeur d'Alene feels like ages ago).

Afterwards, it was a dip in the Columbia to rinse my wounds (probably not the greatest idea) and to cool down. It hit 100 degrees in Richland that day, and there was nothing better than sitting in the shade, meeting new people and waiting for awards. I felt a little bit like I was crashing a party, with the majority of the 200-something participants being from the tri city area, but there were actually a lot of people there that I knew from other races, and even more new people to meet. The best part is that the awards came from the Ice Harbor Brewery - beer glasses and harvest pale ale! Beer, a well-organized race, and good people - all for the amazing price of $18 (plus $5 late registration fee). Does anyone still put on a triathlon this cheaply anymore?! Except, I suppose, for the San Diego Tri Club's free club races. Huge kudos are in order to race director Eric Greager and the 3 Rivers Road Runners for putting on such an awesome, inexpensive, well run event. It was everything I wanted minus a bit of skin.

Ironman Coeur d'Alene is Cold

I've now raced Ironman Coeur d'Alene in 97 degree heat, 55 degree wind and rain, and just about everything in between. Still, it's my favorite race. I may be partial to the event because it takes place ½ hour from my house and I know about 30% of the total competitors, but it’s also worth mentioning that Coeur d'Alene is one of the most scenic and challenging domestic Ironmans on the circuit and that the town of 42,000 is outstandingly supportive of the event. The final 200 meters down (literally, downhill) Sherman Ave are unrivaled in their boisterousness and enthusiasm. Mostly though, I love that this race is an excuse for my friends and family to reunite.

This year was particularly special because my friend Deb and her partner Mike came all the way from Wellington, New Zealand for the event. Deb and I met back in our days at Otago University where we were both first dipping our toes in the world of bike racing and triathlon. A year later, in 2006, we found ourselves standing alongside 1200 other wetsuit-clad athletes in Taupo, New Zealand, just before being told that the winds were such that Ironman New Zealand would not include a swim that day. Later, we were informed that the bike and run portions of the event would be halved as well. So much for our first “Ironman.”

In a somewhat coincidental twist, the ½ iron duathlon that ensued was started in a time trial format and I remember being passed less than halfway through the bike portion by an American girl cycling at ungodly speeds. Her name was Tyler Stewart, and, as an age-grouper, she ended up placing 2nd overall in the event, just behind Jo Lawn.

Anyway, Deb and I both went on to separately complete numerous “real” Ironmans after the Taupo disaster, but we vowed to do one together someday. She made good on that promise by training through the Wellington winter and traveling across multiple time zones to come compete in IM Coeur d’Alene. It was awesome. My dad was generous enough to let my companions and me converge upon his vacation house on the lake, where all of the important race goings-on were a mere 10 minute boat ride away. The entourage at his house included Mike and Deb, Shelby and Phaedra, Aaron and Lily, my brother, sister, and sister in-law, and my dad and Susan. The night before the race was fantastic – great food, a spectacularly beautiful evening at the Gozzer Ranch golf course, and ideal company. Except for the fact that I was dressed in my Zoot CompressRx recovery tights, it was easy to forget that I had an Ironman to race the next day.

Lily helped me test my equipment.

Race morning in Coeur d’Alene dawned typically chaotic and semi-typically windy. And cold. I hurried through final T1 preparations, and lots of well-wishes to friends, before heading to the swim start in time for an ample warm up. With 20 minutes to the race start, I expected to be one of the last pros down to the water, but Bryan Rhodes was the only other person warming up. I swam out into the chop and after passing a couple of buoys, I had a moment of relaxation floating on my back and looking at the sky. It was so peaceful, barely hearing the music and murmer of thousands of people on the beach and staring as what was then an un-foreboding sky. We had been informed at the pro meeting that it would be a running start from about 10 meters up the beach, because the media wanted more exciting coverage of the race start. Having not done a dolphin dive all year, I was less than enthusiastic at the prospect, but I had no control over the matter, so I literally toed the line and waited for the cannon. The only nerves I felt all week were in those two minutes before the gun went off. I knew that the day would transpire as it would and there was no need to feel anxious about it, but everyone was lined up and ready to go when the 2 minute warning was given, so it just seemed silly to not just let us start right then!

Amazingly, I got off to a great start. I was in a giant pack (relatively speaking) for the first several hundred meters. I could see Kate and Heathers’ swim caps around me and I was astounded that I was actually sitting in the main pack in such crazy choppy water. Eventually, the pack strung out, and I ended up in a smaller group of swimmers more like myself ability-wise, but at least I wasn’t alone, and for the first time EVER, I found myself really enjoying the swim portion of an Ironman. I knew that I wasn’t going to be the fastest girl out of the water, but I really appreciated every stroke, especially after the turn when we got to body surf the waves back in. Unlike last year, I got a really good gap on the mass start and didn’t get completely clobbered after the first lap. A major bonus.

By the 2nd lap fo the swim the wind had shifted a bit and instead of heading directly into the waves, they came at us at an angle. It made the far turn buoys very difficult to navigate and didn’t allow for the same joyous body surfing on the final stretch back to shore. That was a bummer, but land was in sight, and I was keen to do what I (usually) do best – ride my bike.

T1 was a total breeze. My wetsuit strippers rocked, and I was out of there in 2 minutes. I know the Cd’A bike course very well, and I meant to approach the bike leg very tactically. My goal was to take it easy on the hills and to really attack the descents and the more technical sections. I usually over-bike in races, so I focused hard on getting my heart rate under control in the first 10 miles and taking it from there. Unfortunately I was a little too successful, and I spent the entire bike with an abnormally low heart rate, even on the hills. I imagine that the weather played a significant role in this phenomenon, but I have to admit that I was a little scared to see such low numbers. By mile 40 I was feeling strangely dizzy, so I eased off even more, decreasing the HR even further. I felt flat and lethargic and strangely unfocused on the leg that I really thought would be my forte. I seriously considered pulling out of the race at T2, because I couldn’t imagine running a marathon feeling that dizzy and flat, but I slipped on my Zoot shoes and decided to let the day play on.

I don't have any photos of the bike, but Shelby did send me this shot of what the rest of the gang was up to during the bike. I'm not quite sure what that was, but I can see it involved a lot of clothing.

Coming out of T2, I was in 6th place, about 15 seconds behind 5th. I really wanted to run into 5th place because I wanted a bicycle escort. It’s silly because for the 1st 4 miles of the marathon, I was only a few meters behind 5th and the cyclist was another 20 meters ahead of both of us, but until I passed her, he technically wasn’t my escort, and I wanted him. Around mile 5, we caught 4th place, and 7th place caught up to us. So there were four of us running within 10 seconds of each other and I knew it would be a tight race. Then it seemed like everyone else just slowed down. I felt great and was running a very conservative marathon. I don’t think I sped up at all, but suddenly I had the 4th place bike escort and everyone else seemed to drop off. That’s when I started to run a little scared. There was a huge gap to Tyler, Kate and Heather, and a very small gap between me and about 5 other girls. So I resolved to do what I had to do to hang onto 4th. It turns out that I didn’t have to do very much except maintain my pace, but I was uneasy about their proximity until the final mile. Overall, the run was very cold, but really fun.

I’m glad I didn’t pull out at T2 because my favorite section of any IM course is making the left-hand turn onto Sherman Ave for the last 200 meters of IM Coeur d’Alene. The street is super-wide, lined with fans who make you feel like the only athlete in the world, and it’s an easy downhill coast to the finish line. I got to slap lots of hands and wave to friends. I was truthfully hoping to place a little higher in this race, but overall, it was a 17 minute improvement over last year, and that included contending with some pretty brutal weather conditions. I doubted myself a lot on the bike but didn’t pull the plug and ended up feeling great on the run (albeit, very, very cold). Last year my final time of 9:51 would have put me very close to second, but there were a number of top-tier athletes here this year, and I was pleased to be in the mix. Tyler had an absolutely spectacular race, destroying the course record, and my hat goes off to her. Now, I just want this recovery business to go by quickly so I can get racing again. That’s what summer is for, after all!

I want to finish this race report with a HUGE thanks to my supportive family and my sponsors: Zoot, Lifesport (Coach Dan), Zipp, Orbea, Suunto, AlCis, Fuel Belt, Fitness Fanatics, the Spokane Athletic Club, and Runners Soul. To the Spokane/Coeur d’Alene triathlon community: you rock. Thanks so much for the cheers, the splits, and the friendship. To my friends going to Kona (Eve, Sam, and Jeff): many congratulations and I hope you’ll let me train with you this summer. To Adrienne, Deb, Robin, John, Morgan, Manny, Sarah, Laura, Corey, and Rick: I am so impressed with all of your Ironman finishes, and am glad to have shared parts of this journey with y’all. To Phaedra, Shelby, Andy, Cassy, Bri, Dad, and Susan, Lily, and especially Aaron: thanks for putting up with me during endless training days and race week. You’re my people and I love you.

Thanks also to Larry Rosa and Jessi Thompson for photos.

May Days

May is surely the Northern Hemisphere's most perfect month. To begin with, it's a month that starts with Wildflower, one of the Northern Hemisphere's most perfect races. Then, it proceeds to produce cherry, apple, and lilac blossoms, which make even the most dog poop covered streets of Florence smell delicious. It's a month with long days, but without sweltering heat. Around Spokane, it's the most warmth and green that can be experienced simultaneously, and for type A triathletes at the peak of IM Coeur d'Alene preparation, May is when we get to be complete training gluttons. Ahh.

I don't have a lot of photographic evidence of being at Wildflower this year, so I've decided to include some pictures from past years. My sincerest apologies to those involved. This is Conrad making the most of snow peas in 2007.

Our "family portrait" from the same year.


Dan rocking the Speedo. The real reason I love this photo is the guy about to pee his pants laughing in the background.

Rachael being scary. Funny scary.

This year was a lot more mellow. Still, Eve and I had to test out our super cool looking aero helmets and intimidation faces before the race. I think that Eve made it as far as befuddled but not quite all the way to to intimidation. It's rough being so nice.

This is Annie setting up camp the day before the race - proof that we actually did so. We may have wimped out a little when it started to rain, and that may have resulted in our crashing Eve and Laura's hotel room, but we did camp the next night. We had to prove that we were still a little hard core. I mention is just in case you didn't get the "hard core" vibe from the aero helmet shot.

The race itself was great for me for 67.3 miles. My swim was nothing special, but nothing horrendous either, and I've learned to celebrate that. I was a little disappointed to swim alone (AGAIN!), because my last few races I've actually managed to swim with a pack and thought I had finally outgrown the solo swim. Oi vey.

The bike felt fantastic. Climbing Beach Hill was a breeze, and I was surprised by how many women I passed in the first few miles of the bike. Last year I only caught 2 people total on the bike, and that included one woman who I passed coming down Lynch hill in the final mile. I didn't have any HR data, and I'm still not on the power train, so I was going on perceived effort, and it felt pretty easy. When I got to the top of Heart Rate Hill, some people told me that I was 3 minutes off of the leader, which was exciting to hear. By that point I had deduced who the 3 women were ahead of me and I expected that they all would have swum more than 3 minutes faster than I. I admite that got a little excited at the prospect of having the fastest bike split.

Into T2, and all was going well. We northerners were lucky that it wasn't too hot, and I felt pretty good starting out the run. I am ashamed to say that I wasn't expecting to hold 4th place for long. I knew all of the girls that I had passed on the bike, and I had a pretty good idea of how fast they could run. I decided to start conservatively and save myself for the tough bit at the end. That was the plan anyway. By mile 9, no one had passed me and I was feeling great. I actually started to believe that 4th place was mine and that I might actually catch Erica (because everyone kept telling me that she was just ahead). The fueling was going well, there was enough wind to stay cool, and I was shocked at how much better I felt racing than I did in 2008. At mile 10 I experienced the 2nd most instantaneous bonk of my life.

Side note: The most instantaneous bonk of my like occurred at the 7.5 km marker in the ITU age group world champs in Honolulu. That bonk earned me an ambulance ride to Queens hospital and 6 liters of IV fluid. All for bargain price of $8000. It turns out that my health insurance didn't cover "injuries incurred during participation in amateur sporting events." The moral of that story, folks, is to always read the fine print. And don't forget to hydrate.

Anyway. The last 3 miles of the run were pretty ugly. Heather Wurtele and Tyler Stewart passed me at about 11.5 miles and they ended up putting 3 and 5 minutes on me respectively. It was that ugly. But I kept my feet moving in a cadence that resembled running, I enjoyed the day, and I learned a lot. I keep coming back to Wildflower not because it's a race that plays to my strengths (quite the opposite, in fact), but because it absolutely rocks. The vibe, the course, the road trip (17.5 hours each way, baby), and the organization make it a must do event for anyone involved in triathlon. Every time I drove in and out of the park, I was awed by the fact that 10,000 triathletes can be managed so well.

A major perk this year was that Clancy and Charlie rented an RV with a hot shower and parked it right next to transition. Any shower is welcome after a race, but this one definitely beat standing in line to take a tepid shower at the campsites.

This is road trip buddy Laura waiting in line for her turn to shower. The smile is well deserved after finishing her first ever 1/2 ironman.

In other Spokanite news, Eve had a little run-in with the pavement during the bike leg. She waited at an aid station for 30 minutes for medical assistance to arrive and finally decided to just finish the darned thing. She might not have looked terribly hard core in the helmet, but the road rash certainly gives her transition cred. The elbow actually ended up with stitches.

And now I'm just training diligently for Ironman Coeur d'Alene and enjoying most every second. Time for some pictures of May.

The photo below is a juvenile Boreal toad (Bufo boreas boreas) that I found at my dad's house this morning. Most of my friends know that I love frogs and salamanders, but I absolutely adore boreal toads. I haven't seen one since I worked in Yellowstone, and it was such a treat. Spring rocks.

I actually had to get Aaron out of bed to show him Toady. I know I scored a good guy because he was excited too. That or he has learned enough to feign excitement.

These subsequent photos were taken on a day when my front derailleur wasn't cooperating. I had to get off of my bike to fix it every time I shifted, so I figured I might as well snap some photos.

Admiring Latah Creek . . .

Look a little closer . . .

And closer yet . . .

Deer aren't exactly exotic exotic, but a fuzzy antlered young buck standing in a stream is photo worthy.

When I ignore the tractors spraying stinky pesticides all over the Palouse, I can appreciate its pastoral beauty.

Just a random derailleur stop

One of the more delicious feral apple trees, come September. No, I won't tell where it is. I plan to fully exploit it for sauce and cobbler.

Grow little apples, grow!

Remember this picture from February?
Here it is in May. And this?

Viola! 3 months later . . .

I've always loved the last mile on my way home under the Sunset bridge. I especially love it when there is a train (not pictured).

Finally home, spying our little yellow house through the foliage. Vegetation makes everything prettier. Except, perhaps, for Antarctica.

I hope you've all enjoyed the your days of May as much as I have. Thanks for reading.

Warmer Climes

After an extended stay in the more southern reaches of the continent, I returned to Spokane to find just what I had desperately wanted. Fuzzy green grass, budding maple trees, crocuses, daffodils and tulips blooming, and an Ironman Coeur d’Alene bike course open for business. There were a few patches of snow left along the sides of the road, undoubtedly from systems that moved through in December, but the roads were dry, marginally swept, and just as momentum-killing as I remember. It’s good to be back.

My time away began in March, when I flew to San Diego for one too-short day with Shelby and one positively beautiful bike ride with Brian and some other TCSD members. Then it was off to Guatemala for a medical mission trip with Hearts in Motion. I can’t begin to do the experience justice on this triathlon blog, but among other things it reinforced the universality of the human condition, the true capacity of a single person to do an inordinate amount of good in the world, and the relative lack of fortitude of the North American GI system.

Jeremy (the cat) decided to help me pack. That was shortly before he decided to run in front of a car and become a substantially more expensive cat while I was away. Still, his life is better than that of the dogs in the Teculetan dump. . .

. . . and the cows that graze beside flaming pits of garbage.

And sadly, Jeremy's life is probably better than most of the kids who live at the dump. Nonetheless, I love that an impromptu game of soccer is still a lot of fun in such a dire environment.

This kid is a little luckier. He was taken in by nuns at the local nutrition center and is now on track to a much healthier life.

Most of my time in Guatemala was spent with the dental team. We were dispatched to a different remote village every day to do some rudimentary hygiene, oral health instruction, and a lot of extractions. It is sad that that which is a last-ditch procedure in North America is modus operadum in Guatemala, but ultimately the fact that we were there with Lidocane spared a lot of people a lot of pain. These two girls are awaiting extractions. Their names are Imelda and Olga. I love it.

A makeshift dental chair in an old school room (actually the plastic bins in which we transported supplies).

This is a picture of Karen Sheeringa carrying a portable toilet into one of the villages where we did a medical/dental clinic. She is testimony to the fact that one person can make a big change in this world. She single-handedly started Hearts in Motion and is personally responsible for the construction of countless orphanages, nutrition and day-care centers, and playgrounds. For decades, Karen has sent plastic and orthopedic surgeons to developing countries, she has facilitated the treatment of hundreds of kids needing medical treatment in the US, and has often fostered many of them during their stays here. In the midst of all that, she fostered over 300 children, 11 of whom she adopted, and she continues to inspire thousands of volunteers to do more. The woman oozes love and compassion and also has a wicked sense of humor, which makes her that much more approachable and fun.

Adding more richness to the trip was the fact that my dad and sister were there as well, and although we don’t live terribly far apart, it’s rare that we spend extended periods of time in such close proximity. It was 11 years ago that my dad first took me on a medical trip to Buga, Colombia where he was doing cleft lip, cleft palate, and burn surgeries, and he and my sister have subsequently made numerous trips to Zacapa, Guatemala. I only got to spend one full day in surgery with my dad, but it made me incredibly proud of him and the work he does. People tell me all the time what a skilled and compassionate surgeon my dad is, but to see him in action and to see the faces of cleft lip and macrostomia patients instantly transformed made it all much more real to me.

A self portrait of Cassy and me on the roof of the hospital in Zacapa.

driving back from one particularly scenic clinic.

The trip was capped by a visit to Antigua, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. We also manged to find a sports bar there in time to watch the Zags get annihilated by UNC.

But really this is a triathlon blog, right?

Returning to San Diego was a bit surreal after the intense day-to-day experience that was Guatemala, but truthfully, I was looking forward to getting back to training and a land of improved air-quality. Guatemala’s physical landscape was astounding, but the air quality was tarnished by multitudes of older vehicles with no emissions standards, open pits of burning garbage, the dust of the dry season, and particulate entrapping topography. My nose, eyes and lungs got progressively more irritated with every day spent there. It turns out that I am a lot less tough than your average Guatemalan, and so is my digestive tract. I had six days in San Diego before Oceanside 70.3 to get things sorted out, but unfortunately it took more like fourteen before everything was working normally again.

After 10 days of minimal training, I really wanted to hit the training hard, but with an imminent race, the volume wasn’t terribly substantial. It meant that I had a lot of spare time to hang out with Shelby, which rocked. I won’t divulge too much more except to say that we regressed quite a lot and may or may not have choreographed a dance to an entire Silver Platters song. On Thursday before the race, fellow Zoot ULTRA teammate Danielle showed up, which turned out to be a real treat. I knew Dee a little bit from camp and races last year, but hanging out in a more casual format was a blast. Then things got crazy as race day approached. Phaedra and Rachel showed up for the race and Timex camp, and the house became progressively more fun (loud?). Any pre-race anxiety was easily drowned out.

I didn't really take photos, but here's a good one of Shelby and Boomer.

The race was about like it is every year. Over the past 3 years I’ve learned that all pre-race hype regarding water temperature is mostly just that, but that a down jacket in transition pre-race is never regretted. The swim went better than last year, mainly because I didn’t do the whole thing by myself. I should probably also credit the fact that I swam regularly throughout the winter, as opposed to last year when I took 2 months off of swimming because I didn’t really feel like it.

I loved the bike. I would have loved it more if I had gone faster, but it’s still early. If past years are any indication, I will only get faster as the season goes on. It was a beautiful day in Camp Pendelton and my legs felt fresh, as they should after 2 weeks of relative rest. I spent most of the bike leg just being happy that I got to race in such a beautiful place.

I lost it a bit mentally on the run. It wasn’t bad, per se, it just wasn’t good either. I kept a pretty steady pace, slowing a bit towards the end and I just sort of settled in. It was the kind of race that was just fine. Just fine races aren’t nearly as fun as awesome races, but they’re better than dreadful races (Kona ’08 comes to mind . . . ). Hopefully the lack of post-race excitement that I felt will compel me to race a little harder next time. I think I need to stop thinking of races as “B” or “C” races, because that attitude makes me a little complacent when the going gets tougher (as it should towards the end of any race).

The trip didn’t end with the race. After that, it was off to Carlsbad for a couple days of Zoot camp, which got me even more excited about our team partners for 2009 - namely Suunto, GU (the chomps are AMAZING), Orbea and ALCiS (Shelby and I dubbed it the “magic cream”).

I also managed to squeeze in one more good ride with Bill Holland, the guy who built Shelby’s rad little titanium bicycle. The last day of the trip was capped with a San Diego Triathlon Club club race. It was a cold, blustery day on Fiesta Island, which I loved. The swim was okay, the bike awesome, and the run disappointing. Of all the racing highs and lows I’ve experienced in the past 5 years, the one that kept me up for more nights than any other was this one. Jennifer Spieldenner and I ran shoulder to shoulder for the first 2 mile lap, and then I just let her go during the second lap. The legs were a little wobbly from post-Oceanside fatigue, but I really wasn’t feeling particularly taxed when I watched her run away. I just didn’t care, and that made me SO angry with myself. I’m not claiming that I could have beaten Jennifer, I just know that I could have tried a lot harder. Yes, it was just a club race, yes, I was a bit tired from Oceanside, and yes, it was a “C-” race, but it’s time for me to start fighting. That’s my new 2009 resolution.

On a side note, I have to say that I was incredibly impressed with this race. It was well directed, had a good turnout, chip timing, and an amazing post-race feed. Thanks San Diego Tri Club!

And now it’s back to Spokane and a full training schedule. I love it. The weather is amazing, and even though we will likely experience more snow, rain, and wind, it’s all doable from here on out. Even the 10 inches of snow that fell last Tuesday melted before the day was over, so I feel comfortable relegating the trainer to the basement (even though my coach would surely like me to use it more often). I expect leaves on the trees in the next two weeks. This is surely my favorite time of year! Mild weather, the promise of breakfast in the sun on the porch, electric green vegetation, and the prospect of a summer of long hot bike rides through the Palouse. Happy Earth Day!

Last shot of me racing before my club race meltdown.