There are moments when you wonder why anybody would do an Ironman race, aside from having been kicked in the head too many times at the shorter distances.
This week, somebody told me the story of the guy who had his jaw broken during the swim and was so far from kayak support that he had to swim to shore directly.
This week, somebody told me about the year so many people had diarrhea in the swim that by two hours into the bike the ER's were full of people who were full of bacteria that came from, well, swimming in a sewer.
This week, I heard about the guy whose intestines lost it 90 miles into the bike because his cytomax was stale.
This follows the story of the woman who blew up during the swim because she'd taken too many enduralytes, the story of the woman who was first crashed into and then run over on the bike (actually the same woman!), the story of the woman who was pushed under and held down while some other big male swimmer swam over her, making it possible for a whole school of other swimmers to swim over her and difficult for her to surface, the story of the woman who landed in an ER 10 days after the event with a bacterial overgrowth in her gut traced to, yep, Lake Monona.
Holy cow.
I am a social scientist. I understand that people talk about the stuff that's salient because it's salient---remarkable, mortifying, unusual. Maybe people tell me these stories as object lessons (e.g., don't take electrolytes before the swim if you don't know what they'll do...).
As of Sunday, I don't want to hear it. I only want to hear stories about people who did the damned thing without landing in an ER, without sustaining injuries, without have fist-to-cuffs with other swimmers or accidents with other bikers. I only want to hear stories of people being kind to each other on the course, inspiring each other on the course, helping each other out on the course.
You got a story like that? Send it my way.
Oh, and: I'm working up a concept for an alternative event. What's that, you say? It's IronFran...an event closer to the roots of the original race than IM as we know it, and one that you can do on your mountain bike in cargo shorts...if you so choose. Are you tough enough to be an IronFran?
Friday, August 15, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Midtown Road
There's a hill on the ironman Wisconsin course with which I have a history. In some ways, it doesn't look like much...it doesn't have the distance of Old Sauk Pass or the steepness of Timber Lane. Nonetheless, Midtown Road kicks my tail.
That is, it used to.
Tonight I dragged my sorry, thyroid-depleted self out to Midtown. I parked the car in the ditch and did hill repeats on Midtown Road. 12 of them. In less than an hour. It was late, because this is when I seem to have the most juju, so I was out there with the deer and the bugs and the dusky-drivers...and with a gorgeous sunset and a beautiful view of what must be Blue Mound off in the distance.
12 hill repeats on Midtown may not be enough at this point. With more synthroid on board, I might have been able to do 15. But I am proud of myself for fighting back a little, for going on when the tank is empty, and for making it up Midtown a dozen times, with no walking involved.
It seems I do better when I can study a hill, get to know it, understand it a little, work with the hill, make it less scary. I told my coach I was going to go make friends with Midtown. "Friends?" he said "Attack the hill." I understand that this might be one way of getting at it, but in my thyroid-depleted malaise, I don't even feel much like attacking dinner, let alone attacking any hill. No, I prefer loving the hill up, literally, trying to befriend it, trying to appreciate the hill as a part of the pathway to a height from which I have a heckuva view.
For those less romantically inclined: I have now staged the hill....it's a short one...only three-tenths of a mile...but it definitely has stages, and each one can be navigated differently. I now have a strategy for each stage, and on my last couple repeats, I was finishing the final stage at a blazing 7 mph. It may not sounds like much to you, gentle reader, but that was faster than the first time up, faster than the times I've walked that hill,
and I was able to breathe and continue at the top, which was the ultimate goal.
The jury, composed of a couple of coaches and docs, is still out on the question of should I do IM WI, but I am continuing the training as though I am. This weekend: Dairyland Dare. Between now and then? Swim and run, swim and run.
That is, it used to.
Tonight I dragged my sorry, thyroid-depleted self out to Midtown. I parked the car in the ditch and did hill repeats on Midtown Road. 12 of them. In less than an hour. It was late, because this is when I seem to have the most juju, so I was out there with the deer and the bugs and the dusky-drivers...and with a gorgeous sunset and a beautiful view of what must be Blue Mound off in the distance.
12 hill repeats on Midtown may not be enough at this point. With more synthroid on board, I might have been able to do 15. But I am proud of myself for fighting back a little, for going on when the tank is empty, and for making it up Midtown a dozen times, with no walking involved.
It seems I do better when I can study a hill, get to know it, understand it a little, work with the hill, make it less scary. I told my coach I was going to go make friends with Midtown. "Friends?" he said "Attack the hill." I understand that this might be one way of getting at it, but in my thyroid-depleted malaise, I don't even feel much like attacking dinner, let alone attacking any hill. No, I prefer loving the hill up, literally, trying to befriend it, trying to appreciate the hill as a part of the pathway to a height from which I have a heckuva view.
For those less romantically inclined: I have now staged the hill....it's a short one...only three-tenths of a mile...but it definitely has stages, and each one can be navigated differently. I now have a strategy for each stage, and on my last couple repeats, I was finishing the final stage at a blazing 7 mph. It may not sounds like much to you, gentle reader, but that was faster than the first time up, faster than the times I've walked that hill,
and I was able to breathe and continue at the top, which was the ultimate goal.
The jury, composed of a couple of coaches and docs, is still out on the question of should I do IM WI, but I am continuing the training as though I am. This weekend: Dairyland Dare. Between now and then? Swim and run, swim and run.
The Body Wins: Tri and Thyroid: The Wisconsin Ironman Thyroid Supplement
I have spent much of my life as a social constructionist. I have believed that "that which we take as real is real in its consequences," that reality is a social product, that how we make sense of even corporeal reality---like race, sex, gender, sexuality--shapes and creates that reality.
My thyroid is teaching me that this is, in some measure, bullfeathers.
The last few weeks have been difficult. I have been trying to do what I am supposed to do, according to my training plan, but my tail has been dragging and my attitude has been poor. Sleep has been difficult and strange when it comes, and my ability to fulfill my ambitions of rising early, getting on the bike or the pool, and starting my day with movement have been all but impossible to fulfill. I have been able to train late in the day, but have been disappointed with my paces, even with hard effort. I have had some good days, but have continued to be concerned that although I now believe I can do these distances, I am not fast enough to do them by the cut-offs. Two weeks ago, after bailing out of HellBrick, I sat in my car and wept with frustration after a friend asked "How did it go?" I hadn't had the juju to finish, I hadn't been able to keep up, and I hadn't been able to get as far up Blue Mound as I had at Horribly Hilly two months ago. And I am not a person who believes that is worth crying over. Honestly. But there I was, inconsolable and asking, "What am I not getting here?'' Is it dropping the weight, eating differently, training differently, different equipment (this I have ruled out, since I own the DIVA!), or just attitude? I have worked on all of these things, and still can't ride the bike like the other kids. What am I not getting?
Thyroid supplement.
I should have known.
It's a little organ, but it seems to run the show. I had a phase like this in the winter, where I would burst into tears on the spin bike or the elliptical after 45 minutes or so, even though the only time I felt good was on the bike or the elliptical. Labs showed that my thyroid was out-of-control. I'd had this corrected and things improved. My last labs, back in June, were where they should be. Yesterday, concerned about my attitude and energy, I asked for a CBC and a thyroid panel, expecting the former to be suspicious and the thyroid actually to be fine. Wrong-O, MaryLou. Out of whack again.
The good news: I have an explanation, and something can be done about it. The bad news: it's going to take four weeks.
The question becomes: what will be the impact of training hard on a half-functioning thyroid when the levels return to normal, when 'training hard" on a half-thyroid is nothing like training hard well?
I used to think that the thyroid was only about having a little slower metabolism and a tendency toward dry skin. I have learned over the years that it gets the credit for a whole host of other things: energy, mood, attitude, memory, libido, sleep, hair, cholesterol, even. Still, IM training has brought my appreciation to a whole new level, and given me a new set of signs and symptoms to watch for. If I see myself having a meltdown after a ride (I love riding, so should not be crying!), I need to say to myself: "Hey, have you had your thyroid checked?"
Beyond this, I have learned two new and interesting things about the thyroid recently:
1) The wild fluctuations in mine could be a result of using generic medication to treat it. It turns out that the generics are made by multiple companies, and that the local pharmacy buys its supplies month to month from the lowest bidder, so that the generic I have this month may be made by a different manufacturer than the one I had in June...and they are all slightly different...and slight differences make a big difference to the thyroid. So--as of today, I will insist on the brand name stuff, as an endocrinologist recently advised me to do.
2) When I am "over supplemented" by medical standards, I feel like what I imagine thyroid-normal people,feel like in their regular lives: energetic, optimistic, happy. Being slightly over-supplemented brings its own risks, however---for example, of bringing on a heart attack. It's a fine line to walk. I was "over supplemented" slightly by medical standards for the first time last fall, and I felt fine, fab, functional. It brings up real quality of life issues. I've always been big on not doing risky things, but in this moment, I'm beginning to lean toward taking the risks associated with running very close to that line, once I get back there, because it allows me to run at all.
It is hard to accept this thing as a disability, but it clearly is one. Having knowledge of it, what I do with it---including defining it as a disability--- is my choice, obviously, but it would appear that the joke in some ways is on me: the body ultimately wins.
Will she try Ironman Wisconsin? Stay tuned.
My thyroid is teaching me that this is, in some measure, bullfeathers.
The last few weeks have been difficult. I have been trying to do what I am supposed to do, according to my training plan, but my tail has been dragging and my attitude has been poor. Sleep has been difficult and strange when it comes, and my ability to fulfill my ambitions of rising early, getting on the bike or the pool, and starting my day with movement have been all but impossible to fulfill. I have been able to train late in the day, but have been disappointed with my paces, even with hard effort. I have had some good days, but have continued to be concerned that although I now believe I can do these distances, I am not fast enough to do them by the cut-offs. Two weeks ago, after bailing out of HellBrick, I sat in my car and wept with frustration after a friend asked "How did it go?" I hadn't had the juju to finish, I hadn't been able to keep up, and I hadn't been able to get as far up Blue Mound as I had at Horribly Hilly two months ago. And I am not a person who believes that is worth crying over. Honestly. But there I was, inconsolable and asking, "What am I not getting here?'' Is it dropping the weight, eating differently, training differently, different equipment (this I have ruled out, since I own the DIVA!), or just attitude? I have worked on all of these things, and still can't ride the bike like the other kids. What am I not getting?
Thyroid supplement.
I should have known.
It's a little organ, but it seems to run the show. I had a phase like this in the winter, where I would burst into tears on the spin bike or the elliptical after 45 minutes or so, even though the only time I felt good was on the bike or the elliptical. Labs showed that my thyroid was out-of-control. I'd had this corrected and things improved. My last labs, back in June, were where they should be. Yesterday, concerned about my attitude and energy, I asked for a CBC and a thyroid panel, expecting the former to be suspicious and the thyroid actually to be fine. Wrong-O, MaryLou. Out of whack again.
The good news: I have an explanation, and something can be done about it. The bad news: it's going to take four weeks.
The question becomes: what will be the impact of training hard on a half-functioning thyroid when the levels return to normal, when 'training hard" on a half-thyroid is nothing like training hard well?
I used to think that the thyroid was only about having a little slower metabolism and a tendency toward dry skin. I have learned over the years that it gets the credit for a whole host of other things: energy, mood, attitude, memory, libido, sleep, hair, cholesterol, even. Still, IM training has brought my appreciation to a whole new level, and given me a new set of signs and symptoms to watch for. If I see myself having a meltdown after a ride (I love riding, so should not be crying!), I need to say to myself: "Hey, have you had your thyroid checked?"
Beyond this, I have learned two new and interesting things about the thyroid recently:
1) The wild fluctuations in mine could be a result of using generic medication to treat it. It turns out that the generics are made by multiple companies, and that the local pharmacy buys its supplies month to month from the lowest bidder, so that the generic I have this month may be made by a different manufacturer than the one I had in June...and they are all slightly different...and slight differences make a big difference to the thyroid. So--as of today, I will insist on the brand name stuff, as an endocrinologist recently advised me to do.
2) When I am "over supplemented" by medical standards, I feel like what I imagine thyroid-normal people,feel like in their regular lives: energetic, optimistic, happy. Being slightly over-supplemented brings its own risks, however---for example, of bringing on a heart attack. It's a fine line to walk. I was "over supplemented" slightly by medical standards for the first time last fall, and I felt fine, fab, functional. It brings up real quality of life issues. I've always been big on not doing risky things, but in this moment, I'm beginning to lean toward taking the risks associated with running very close to that line, once I get back there, because it allows me to run at all.
It is hard to accept this thing as a disability, but it clearly is one. Having knowledge of it, what I do with it---including defining it as a disability--- is my choice, obviously, but it would appear that the joke in some ways is on me: the body ultimately wins.
Will she try Ironman Wisconsin? Stay tuned.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Four Weeks and Counting
Four weeks from now, if all goes well, if I'm lucky, if the weather is good, I'll be somewhere on the Ironcourse, hearing that, with two hours to go, there is time for me to get to the finish.
As we approach this momentous date, I've been reflecting on all of the experiences I would not have had without Ironman training. For example, without IM training, I would not have:
1) Swum for an hour tethered to a starting block at the fitness center pool, going absolutely nowhere fast. Well, in my case, going absolutely nowhere slow.
2) Served as a case manager for a drunken goose next to Lake Monona.
3) Run up the elipse at the Monona Terrace under cover of darkness in only shorts and a sports bra.
4) Listened to more than one person say, "YOU are going to run a marathon? I can't believe that."
5) Eaten ham.
6) Led a bunch of undergraduates on a trail run through the Arb.
7) Swum in Lake Wingra.
8) Bailed out of Hell Brick and hitched a ride for me and my bike home with stranger guys in a Jeep.
9) Eaten Salted Nut Rolls by the case.
10) Demand extra fast service from the wetsuit repair people because, "dude, I have an Ironman in four and a half weeks."
It's true: Ironman training takes you to places you've never dared go before, even if those places are 10 feet out from the diving block for hours at a time.
As we approach this momentous date, I've been reflecting on all of the experiences I would not have had without Ironman training. For example, without IM training, I would not have:
1) Swum for an hour tethered to a starting block at the fitness center pool, going absolutely nowhere fast. Well, in my case, going absolutely nowhere slow.
2) Served as a case manager for a drunken goose next to Lake Monona.
3) Run up the elipse at the Monona Terrace under cover of darkness in only shorts and a sports bra.
4) Listened to more than one person say, "YOU are going to run a marathon? I can't believe that."
5) Eaten ham.
6) Led a bunch of undergraduates on a trail run through the Arb.
7) Swum in Lake Wingra.
8) Bailed out of Hell Brick and hitched a ride for me and my bike home with stranger guys in a Jeep.
9) Eaten Salted Nut Rolls by the case.
10) Demand extra fast service from the wetsuit repair people because, "dude, I have an Ironman in four and a half weeks."
It's true: Ironman training takes you to places you've never dared go before, even if those places are 10 feet out from the diving block for hours at a time.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Drunk...Drunk...Goose
Thank god for recovery days!
I didn't feel today as though I physically needed to recover, but it's an indulgence to spend some time taking care of home basics.
Since last I wrote, I've had one good OWS in the quarry in Verona, and a couple of good pool swims, though I haven't been in the pool now for several days. The swim in the quarry was especially sweet because friends joined me there, and I had a personal swim escort in the daughter of a friend---she's a college swimmer and very easy-going; knows I've been having OWS issues, and just came along as a comforting presence. She swims so gracefully that it was relaxing to swim with her. It took me a long time to warm up and to relax, but once I did, the swim went well. So: I can swim in a wetsuit w/o having a respiratory issue; now the question is whether I can swim in Wingra and/or Monona w/o it, or whether I'm allergic to something there.
I've also been attending to the bureaucratic details of IM preparations...two more bike fittings, more rounds of visits to various docs, experts, consults, etc. If I could put as much time into training as I do into talking about training, I might see some progress.
This weekend, I went on a beautiful 25 miler that was supposed to be followed by a run. Somewhere in the last four miles of the ride, I felt a sudden sharp stabbing pain in my thigh, as though a very sharp thorn had impaled me. Would that it were so. I still don't know the true identity of the little bugger who got me, but when we collided, it wasn't good for either of us. Friend Monica, my ride companion, put up with me neurotically monitoring myself all the way home for signs of anaphylaxis. I did have a local reaction to the poison, but the neurotic panic was definitely greater. In some ways, it may have been a good thing---this kind of incident is on my list of Top 5 Things That Can Turn A good Bike Ride Bad so to have it happen and not result in a fatality is somewhat reassuring. It did bring me, however, to pan my run that evening.
Sunday, I did two loops of the IM course, per special instructions of The Coach after a consult on Friday. Friend Judy met me for this adventure, thank heavens, which made it a lot easier to get it under way. It was a beautiful day for riding. First loop went well; second loop was harder (gee!). We gave ourselves the liberty of several leisurely stops, so it became a long day. My pace is perhaps just enough to get to T2 by the cut-off. I had hoped for better this year, and will remain hopeful that there are still gains to be made. The hills the second time through were more challenging than the first; on Timber Lane, all I could do was put my head down, shift into the easiest gear, and count my breaths until I discovered the grade give way; on Midtown, I was see-sawing my way up to the top. Still, after that, I felt strong and happy, and arrived at Verona again feeling fine.
I was amused by how my diet went out the window on this training ride. I ran into my bike fitter and my running teacher, who are buddies, and who both live to bike, at the Kwik Trip in Mt. Horeb the first time through. They both had chocolate chip cookies in their hands. "Hey, is that your fueling strategy?" I asked. You betcha. Hey, I'm no fool. So, a Kwik Trip cookie it was for me too at each of the little towns on the second pass of the loop. Throughout the course of the day, there was also: a banana, three or four gulps of hammer gel, a scone at the Cross Plains bike store, a salted nut roll, a few gulps of perpetuum (ech.), some peanut butter pretzels, some ham (yes, two decades of vegetarianism are currently out the window!), and a handful of gorp. The Garmin says I burned maybe 5500 calories; I think all of this stuff didn't actually balance the scales, though I wasn't hungry at the end of the ride. Stopped at the local grocery and got a protein smoothie cause that's what you're supposed to do; drink half of it because the whole thing is 450 calories, and that became dinner because of what happened next.
I felt mighty fine after this ride, so decided to do the run I had missed the day before. Came home, did some transition stuff, and headed down to the bike path around Lake Monona for the run. As I was doing a walking warm-up, I came across a goose who appeared to be very sick and/or dying. Thinking that the police could have animal control transport her to the Emergency Clinic for Animals, I called them; they told me I was the third call, and that someone was on their way and would be there in half an hour. As I was finishing this conversation, two women approached---they had already called and were wondering what was happening. They were international visitors here to hear the Dalai Lama---good Buddhists with lots of compassion for our poor friend, who now was coming around a bit and munching hungrily at the grass. Every once in awhile, she wowuld try to move, and would stumble, fall, roll, lurch, and get still again. I wasn't certain whether she was poisoned or injured or otherwise sick. I did notice that she didn't seem to roll just one way or another, so the problem seemed less and less like a foot injury. This observation, conversation, and phone research with the police and three other entities went on for at least an hour, after which the police said that animal control would come in the morning...definitely unacceptable to me and the Buddhists, given that this creature could flop into the path of either a car or a cyclist at any moment. More conversations ensued--including devising a plan by which I would drive Maria, the Columbian, to the emergency vet with the goose wrapped in a blanket---as the goose became more animated and began to stagger around a bit more. She was heading toward the lake and making hard-won progress when a police officer arrived. It's Madison, so the guy has an undergrad degree in aquatic ecology. He studies the goose, taking a tenuous step or two and then falling down on her face, and offers the opinion that the goose is...well...drunk. And somehow this analysis seems to fit---for me, and for the two Buddhists, who have been keeping an eye on the bird for three or four of their precious hours of vacation. As she makes it past the mucky edge of the water, into which she goes face down momentarily, and gets into water deep enough that allows her to swim, the goose appears to do better. By now, the city calls and says they think a volunteer can come and get the goose. I tell them she's water-borne now and likely that's good because she'd have to be cited for under-age drinking if she came back around. We all feel somewhat relieved that the bird is swimming, and by the idea that it's "just" alcohol that's causing the problem. The party breaks up.
It's nine o'clock. I have been playing "drunk, drunk, goose" for an hour and a half...and I have enjoyed it. IM training teaches you ever more who you are, and it was clear to me last night that I am not the kind of person who will ignore a dying duck because I have to get my run in---and I don't want to be. I did do my run, but for only an hour. I felt fine, though I would have liked to say I ran 1.5 hours. I told my coach about this today and he laughed and said, "let's hope there aren't any drunk geese on IM Day." Right: or other cyclists with issues or kittens up trees, or spectators from out-of-town who need directions cause I am just the kind of Type C athlete who will attend to these issues the Type A athletes just ride on by.
I didn't feel today as though I physically needed to recover, but it's an indulgence to spend some time taking care of home basics.
Since last I wrote, I've had one good OWS in the quarry in Verona, and a couple of good pool swims, though I haven't been in the pool now for several days. The swim in the quarry was especially sweet because friends joined me there, and I had a personal swim escort in the daughter of a friend---she's a college swimmer and very easy-going; knows I've been having OWS issues, and just came along as a comforting presence. She swims so gracefully that it was relaxing to swim with her. It took me a long time to warm up and to relax, but once I did, the swim went well. So: I can swim in a wetsuit w/o having a respiratory issue; now the question is whether I can swim in Wingra and/or Monona w/o it, or whether I'm allergic to something there.
I've also been attending to the bureaucratic details of IM preparations...two more bike fittings, more rounds of visits to various docs, experts, consults, etc. If I could put as much time into training as I do into talking about training, I might see some progress.
This weekend, I went on a beautiful 25 miler that was supposed to be followed by a run. Somewhere in the last four miles of the ride, I felt a sudden sharp stabbing pain in my thigh, as though a very sharp thorn had impaled me. Would that it were so. I still don't know the true identity of the little bugger who got me, but when we collided, it wasn't good for either of us. Friend Monica, my ride companion, put up with me neurotically monitoring myself all the way home for signs of anaphylaxis. I did have a local reaction to the poison, but the neurotic panic was definitely greater. In some ways, it may have been a good thing---this kind of incident is on my list of Top 5 Things That Can Turn A good Bike Ride Bad so to have it happen and not result in a fatality is somewhat reassuring. It did bring me, however, to pan my run that evening.
Sunday, I did two loops of the IM course, per special instructions of The Coach after a consult on Friday. Friend Judy met me for this adventure, thank heavens, which made it a lot easier to get it under way. It was a beautiful day for riding. First loop went well; second loop was harder (gee!). We gave ourselves the liberty of several leisurely stops, so it became a long day. My pace is perhaps just enough to get to T2 by the cut-off. I had hoped for better this year, and will remain hopeful that there are still gains to be made. The hills the second time through were more challenging than the first; on Timber Lane, all I could do was put my head down, shift into the easiest gear, and count my breaths until I discovered the grade give way; on Midtown, I was see-sawing my way up to the top. Still, after that, I felt strong and happy, and arrived at Verona again feeling fine.
I was amused by how my diet went out the window on this training ride. I ran into my bike fitter and my running teacher, who are buddies, and who both live to bike, at the Kwik Trip in Mt. Horeb the first time through. They both had chocolate chip cookies in their hands. "Hey, is that your fueling strategy?" I asked. You betcha. Hey, I'm no fool. So, a Kwik Trip cookie it was for me too at each of the little towns on the second pass of the loop. Throughout the course of the day, there was also: a banana, three or four gulps of hammer gel, a scone at the Cross Plains bike store, a salted nut roll, a few gulps of perpetuum (ech.), some peanut butter pretzels, some ham (yes, two decades of vegetarianism are currently out the window!), and a handful of gorp. The Garmin says I burned maybe 5500 calories; I think all of this stuff didn't actually balance the scales, though I wasn't hungry at the end of the ride. Stopped at the local grocery and got a protein smoothie cause that's what you're supposed to do; drink half of it because the whole thing is 450 calories, and that became dinner because of what happened next.
I felt mighty fine after this ride, so decided to do the run I had missed the day before. Came home, did some transition stuff, and headed down to the bike path around Lake Monona for the run. As I was doing a walking warm-up, I came across a goose who appeared to be very sick and/or dying. Thinking that the police could have animal control transport her to the Emergency Clinic for Animals, I called them; they told me I was the third call, and that someone was on their way and would be there in half an hour. As I was finishing this conversation, two women approached---they had already called and were wondering what was happening. They were international visitors here to hear the Dalai Lama---good Buddhists with lots of compassion for our poor friend, who now was coming around a bit and munching hungrily at the grass. Every once in awhile, she wowuld try to move, and would stumble, fall, roll, lurch, and get still again. I wasn't certain whether she was poisoned or injured or otherwise sick. I did notice that she didn't seem to roll just one way or another, so the problem seemed less and less like a foot injury. This observation, conversation, and phone research with the police and three other entities went on for at least an hour, after which the police said that animal control would come in the morning...definitely unacceptable to me and the Buddhists, given that this creature could flop into the path of either a car or a cyclist at any moment. More conversations ensued--including devising a plan by which I would drive Maria, the Columbian, to the emergency vet with the goose wrapped in a blanket---as the goose became more animated and began to stagger around a bit more. She was heading toward the lake and making hard-won progress when a police officer arrived. It's Madison, so the guy has an undergrad degree in aquatic ecology. He studies the goose, taking a tenuous step or two and then falling down on her face, and offers the opinion that the goose is...well...drunk. And somehow this analysis seems to fit---for me, and for the two Buddhists, who have been keeping an eye on the bird for three or four of their precious hours of vacation. As she makes it past the mucky edge of the water, into which she goes face down momentarily, and gets into water deep enough that allows her to swim, the goose appears to do better. By now, the city calls and says they think a volunteer can come and get the goose. I tell them she's water-borne now and likely that's good because she'd have to be cited for under-age drinking if she came back around. We all feel somewhat relieved that the bird is swimming, and by the idea that it's "just" alcohol that's causing the problem. The party breaks up.
It's nine o'clock. I have been playing "drunk, drunk, goose" for an hour and a half...and I have enjoyed it. IM training teaches you ever more who you are, and it was clear to me last night that I am not the kind of person who will ignore a dying duck because I have to get my run in---and I don't want to be. I did do my run, but for only an hour. I felt fine, though I would have liked to say I ran 1.5 hours. I told my coach about this today and he laughed and said, "let's hope there aren't any drunk geese on IM Day." Right: or other cyclists with issues or kittens up trees, or spectators from out-of-town who need directions cause I am just the kind of Type C athlete who will attend to these issues the Type A athletes just ride on by.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Full Moon Run: The Lunatics Are Loose!
Last night, I participated in Movin' Shoes' annual Full Moon 5k. Several kids from my running class showed up, and I enjoyed chatting with a couple of my fellow back-o-the-packers before (and during) the race. My pace was about 11:20 per mile...I'm not quite sure why I'm not getting faster, since my training runs in class allow me to go faster than that...but it's a long way from the 16 minute miles I turned in at my first 10k., and definitely moving in the right direction.
An extremely nice thing happened during the run. I had been chugging along in the dark, listening to the voices of a pair of women behind me...I'd passed them early on, but hadn't gotten very far ahead of them, and had been hearing snippets of conversation f rom them most of the run. I caught something about somebody having a nice pace and steady rhythm the whole way shortly before I took a scheduled walk break and allowed them to pass me. As they came by, one of them said to me "You have a really nice stride." I was quite taken aback, and it made my whole night. Maybe working on my form in running class is paying off. Maybe this is just what kind people say when they pass someone! Either way, I'm holding onto it...the first shiny compliment I've received about my running, and one that balances out the not-so-encouraging words of my college running class instructor 25 years ago...amazing how words can shape one's perceptions--in both directions. That moment was definitely worth the discomfort of a hot and sticky run (though the pint glasses, socks, and blinky lights in the goody bags were pretty damned fine, too). Thanks, stranger.
An extremely nice thing happened during the run. I had been chugging along in the dark, listening to the voices of a pair of women behind me...I'd passed them early on, but hadn't gotten very far ahead of them, and had been hearing snippets of conversation f rom them most of the run. I caught something about somebody having a nice pace and steady rhythm the whole way shortly before I took a scheduled walk break and allowed them to pass me. As they came by, one of them said to me "You have a really nice stride." I was quite taken aback, and it made my whole night. Maybe working on my form in running class is paying off. Maybe this is just what kind people say when they pass someone! Either way, I'm holding onto it...the first shiny compliment I've received about my running, and one that balances out the not-so-encouraging words of my college running class instructor 25 years ago...amazing how words can shape one's perceptions--in both directions. That moment was definitely worth the discomfort of a hot and sticky run (though the pint glasses, socks, and blinky lights in the goody bags were pretty damned fine, too). Thanks, stranger.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Emotional Road to IM is as Hilly as the Bike Course
So, I did not want to swim tonight and I did not want to bike. Repeat. You could not make me, Sam I Am.
But I made myself go.
Since when do I say, "I had to cut my swim short; I only got in 2,000 meters?" Since today, 7/15/08.
I had a good time at the pool, actually. When I arrived, a water aerobics class was still going on, so I needed to wait about 10 minutes. I fooled around warming up in the "open swim" section of the pool, trying out my sculling and rotation drills. I enjoyed listening to the music for the aerobics class, and, at some point, asked the lone kid in the pool if he wanted me to throw rebounds to him from the basketball hoop set up in the shallow end of the pool. That was a blast---and it totally relaxed me for the swim, when it started.
Given all the dramarama around the swim lately, I decided to go back to Swim Coach's last written pool workout for me, instead of a long continuous swim, and instead of my Tri Coach's swim assignments, which I find undoable still. I got through about 2,000 meters of the Swim Coach's drills it before it was time to get on the (stationary) bike so I could get in an hour before the Y closed.
I experimented tonight with a new way of breathing---exhaling only through the nose...which actually seemed to work well. Of course, the evening's festivities were not without their usual dose of humility...I was cruising along, from my perspective, when I was joined in my lane by a woman who did a slow, graceful, breast stroke...and totally lapped me w/my freestyle pull. Just when I was congratulating myself that, for the first time ever, I was not being lapped by the free-stylin' guy in the lane next to me, the universe sends me this effortlessly smokin' breast stroker. Confidence is short-lived, young tri-athlete! Training is this perpetual roller coaster, it seems...not just one long uphill climb. Again and again, I learn to stay in my own race from all of these teachers of mine.
Tomorrow, I'm going to wear my wetsuit in the salt water pool at a local gym to see if the Weird Symptoms come on that way...variable by variable, I'll try to figure out the root cause of that particular form of suffering....and eliminate it.
I only swam 2,000 meters today.
But I made myself go.
Since when do I say, "I had to cut my swim short; I only got in 2,000 meters?" Since today, 7/15/08.
I had a good time at the pool, actually. When I arrived, a water aerobics class was still going on, so I needed to wait about 10 minutes. I fooled around warming up in the "open swim" section of the pool, trying out my sculling and rotation drills. I enjoyed listening to the music for the aerobics class, and, at some point, asked the lone kid in the pool if he wanted me to throw rebounds to him from the basketball hoop set up in the shallow end of the pool. That was a blast---and it totally relaxed me for the swim, when it started.
Given all the dramarama around the swim lately, I decided to go back to Swim Coach's last written pool workout for me, instead of a long continuous swim, and instead of my Tri Coach's swim assignments, which I find undoable still. I got through about 2,000 meters of the Swim Coach's drills it before it was time to get on the (stationary) bike so I could get in an hour before the Y closed.
I experimented tonight with a new way of breathing---exhaling only through the nose...which actually seemed to work well. Of course, the evening's festivities were not without their usual dose of humility...I was cruising along, from my perspective, when I was joined in my lane by a woman who did a slow, graceful, breast stroke...and totally lapped me w/my freestyle pull. Just when I was congratulating myself that, for the first time ever, I was not being lapped by the free-stylin' guy in the lane next to me, the universe sends me this effortlessly smokin' breast stroker. Confidence is short-lived, young tri-athlete! Training is this perpetual roller coaster, it seems...not just one long uphill climb. Again and again, I learn to stay in my own race from all of these teachers of mine.
Tomorrow, I'm going to wear my wetsuit in the salt water pool at a local gym to see if the Weird Symptoms come on that way...variable by variable, I'll try to figure out the root cause of that particular form of suffering....and eliminate it.
I only swam 2,000 meters today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
