Still Standing

The first triathalon is over.  I daresay it was kind of fun.  In an oh-my-gosh-my-butt-hurts-and-I-can’t-feel-my-feet kind of way.

All I can say is thank goodness for my sister and her husband, without whom we would have been sunk.  And my husband, without whom I would have had no idea how the *&$@ to get my bike off of the car.

We headed up to Maine the night before the triathalon so we could fret get ourselves ready and not have to rush in the morning.  I can’t speak for my daughter, but I tossed and turned all night just wondering what the next day would be like.  Would I be mortified at the sight of my body in spandex? I mean,  I did practice wearing it around the house but somehow it’s just not quite the same.  Would I get a flat tire?  Would I take a wrong turn and bike 5 miles in the wrong direction?

Mercifully. morning came quickly and it was time to get moving.  Unfortunately, the weather was as miserable as the forecast had called for.  Fifty-five degrees and rain.  Cold, cold, Maine rain.  Oh yeah.

The swim was fine. 12 minutes of all-out sprint followed by me struggling to get out of the pool.  There was a huge lip on the end that you had to climb up over. With tired arms.  And a large bod.  At least it wasn’t like the poor woman who swam in my daughter’s heat.  She had to have someone grab her arm and try and pull her out.  I think I would have died right then and there.

Then it was off to the transition area for my bike.  My lovely, darlin’ granny bike.  Which seemed like a nice, safe, comfy way to do the bike portion.  Turns out, I should have ridden further than 3 miles on the road before this event.  If I had taken my bike somewhere on the car rack, I would have realized that the handlebars and seat can move with bumping.  Like sideways.  So when I hopped on the bike, both the seat and the handlebars were askew.  So the seat was pointed slightly to the right, and the handlebars were also crooked, pointing to the right.  I had to hold the handlebars off center to keep the tire straight.  That was fun.  Not.  I briefly considered getting off and fixing it, but with my luck I would have made it worse.  So I figured, how bad could it be? Riding like this for an hour or so—no big deal, right?

After the first mile or so I was wondering if I was even going in the right direction.  I hadn’t seen or been passed by a single person on a bike.  Just as I was about to consider stopping to look behind me I heard this sound like a huge WHOOSH, and someone looking like they were ready for the Tour De France flew by me.  Well, at least I knew I was going in the right direction.

At what I think was a half-hour in I was really glad I didn’t have a watch on.  It was so freakin’ cold and raining that if I had realized how far I had left to go, I might have thrown in the proverbial towel.  I was being passed every few minutes by people throwing out words of encouragement. “Nice job 217, keep it up”, “You’re doing great 217, almost there”.   It was really, really nice.  Unfortunately it didn’t make me go any faster.  My bike has severe limitations.  

By the time I rounded the last turn and heard those glorious words “You’re almost there” I could barely feel my toes.  It was then I realized I still had to get my tush off the crooked bike seat, unclench my elbows which had been holding the handlebars at an angle for over an hour, and run.

It was more of a wiggly leg run/walk, and it took almost 45 minutes but I did finish.  To the sound of “Go, Mom, go!” 

And then I was done.  Two hours and one minute. 

This is me and my daughter Adrienne at the finish line. She is smiling because now she can go inside and warm up. I am smiling because I am DONE!

Thanks for following along!  And seriously, if I can do it ANYONE can!!  All you have to do is TRI!

Away We Go

Tomorrow I will be here:

Sunday I will be here:

Enjoy your Mother’s Day Weekend!  I know I might will!!

The Granny Bike

So I have this bike.

It’s a cross between this:

 

and this:

Okay, maybe not that totally dorky.  But pretty close.

It has shock absorbers under an enormous padded seat.  And nice grippy, upright handle bars.  A cute little bell.  And a basket.  Which I have removed for the triathalon so I don’t die of embarrassment.

When we first started training for the triathalon, I hadn’t been on said bike since our vacation near the Cape Cod Rail trail 3 years ago.  And even then I only rode it to Ben & Jerry’s and back.

It’s ironic.  I enjoy rides going 400 miles an hour, the more twists and turns the better.  At amusement parks, the only things that get my attention have “Warning” and “Aviso” written on them.  But something about having to be in control of the thing that is going fast just gets me. 

Probably because I’m a clutz on flat land and two feet.

My husband had graciously offered his bike for me to use for this race.  He is not a super-short man but he does have short legs, so we actually could use the same sized frame.

His bike looks more like this:

I rode it around the driveway, nearly crashed into the stone wall because I couldn’t find the brakes, chickened out and decided that my granny bike suits me just fine.

Phew

Ever had one of those dreams that are so vivid, you wake up a in cold sweat, heart pounding...and think to yourself "Thank God that was just a dream"?

I had one of those the other night. Can you venture to guess what it was about?

You got it. The triathalon.

We were at some huge outdoor venue. My parents, my kids, siblings, nieces and newphews. I think I even caught a glance of my 4th grade teacher Mrs. Krick somewhere in the background. I have no idea why, except to say that I got in trouble a lot that year. Something about talking too much and not paying attention. Let's just leave it at that.

There was a lot of running around, the requisite weird dream things like being in a train station one second and then being in an open field in the middle of the country the next.

But what got my heart pumping was when my brother looked up at me and said "Leigh just texted me her swim time. She's doing great." That's when I knew this big outdoor venue was a triathalon event.

Then my daughter looked at me and said "What time do we swim?" I looked down at my watch, saw that it was 4pm and realized that we had missed our swim--and the triathalon--altogether.

I woke up with the heart rate of a bungee jumper, sweating profusely in an all-out panic.

That was honestly close to the best feeling of relief I have had in my entire life.

I cannot wait until this is over.

It's When???

Oh. My. Gawd.

This really snuck up on me. Two weeks from today is the first triathalon. Saturday May 8th at Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, Maine.

I think I just threw up in my mouth.

Not that I feel unprepared. Granted, last July when I agreed to give it a stab, May of 2010 seemed like it was light years away.

Now, of course, not so much.

But the bike is tuned, the outfit has arrived, the sneakers are broken in. I would have liked to have dropped a few more pounds so as not to expose my still-looks-pregnant gut to the viewing public, but alas, I might possibly need the rest of my life to do that.

So, for now, I am as ready as I can be.

Two weeks from today, I will be able to say I have completed my first triathalon. But until then, I will just be moderately panic stricken, counting down the days.

TTFN.

Oh, Now I Get It

Exercise is going terrific, thanks for asking. Still plugging along, feeling moderately prepared for the first event May 8th. Although I still have panic stricken dreams in which I forget to bring my bike, lose my sneakers and am running in nothing but my birthday suit, I am not too worried about it.

Other than cold-sweat inducing nightmares, it's great.

Adrienne and I went spinning last night to burn off some excess energy and stay out of this biblical rain we've been having. I keep waiting for Bill Cosby to start his stand-up routine. Remember the one about Noah? If you grew up in the 70's you might. You can listen to it here.

In any case, we arrived shortly before the class began and found two remaining bikes in the back of the class. I hopped on the one closest to the wall since it seemed like a nice, out-of-the-way bike. In other words the instructor wouldn't be able to see me huffing and puffing and possibly not doing all the insane things she was asking us to do. Yep, that's me. Slacker with a capital "S".

The bike was at an odd angle next to a mirror, and it bothered my occasionally anal sense of order, so I moved it parallel to the bike next to it and hopped on. I wasn't too thrilled being next to the mirror. You can "imagine" you look halfway decent when you are exercising if you are not biking three inches from your life-sized reflection. When you are....well, you get the picture.

The instructor was awesome, and the music was terrific. The girl next to me never stopped texting through the whole ride which was a little distracting. Takes being connected a tiny bit too far, methinks. About 5 minutes in to the warm-up I felt a drip on my arm. I was pretty psyched, thinking I was really working up a sweat. A few minutes after that I felt a drip on my leg. Still, I was thinking that it probably came off my head, and I exercising at quite a pace. A few minutes after that, more drips on my leg, a few on my shoulders. It wasn't until a huge drip hit the top of my head that I realized it wasn't sweat. I looked up at the ceiling.

When I straightened out the bike, I had moved it right back under a large dark water stain, where apparently the roof was leaking into the spin room.

Now I get it.

Notes To Self

Many things have occured to me since I began the quest to exercise to the point of triathalon readiness. Some interesting. Some not so much. I share with you the current list.

1. Double D's don't jog well in Lands End underwire.
2. The wow-you-kinda-look-pregnant roll that looks flattened out in a Speedo is really just pressed around your sides and peeking out the back.
3. Never swim on an empty stomach.
4. Never swim on a full stomach.
5. 3.1 miles sound short until you start running.
6. Swimming with a cold is both inadvisable and gross.
7. Jogging with a stroller is a lot harder than it looks.
8. No wine before spinning.
9. Clipping your feet to your bike is not the best idea if you are a klutz.
10. Teaching my daughter to drive is easier than teaching her to swim.

To Do List

I have a long to-do list, and less than 2 months to get it accomplished. The beginning of it goes like so:

1. Find something halfway presentable to wear swimming to biking to running that shows neither my still-present pregnancy fat roll, nor lets my top-side pair fly free. Wish me luck with that.

2. Outfit my daughter with something she can also wear to swim/bike/run. She will look infinitely cuter in hers than I will in mine.

3. Go to Paul's Bike Shop sale and swap in a few weeks to see if we can trade our mountain bikes for racing bikes for less than a small fortune.

4. Attend a class at REI to learn how to change the tires on said bikes. Adrienne has told me that if she gets a flat tire she will just stop. She has no interest in changing a tire, apparently. But just in case she doesn't want a flat tire to end her triathalon experience, I will haul her grouchy little behind with me to the tire-changing class. Moms can be like that.

5. See my primary care doc about a prescription for Xanax.

I Thought It Was a Booger, But It's Not

I went to the Y today for a midday swim. I do so love having Friday's off.

It was a fairly quiet swim day all things considered. The last lane was empty so I availed myself of the nice quietness and hopped in. There was a swim club two lanes over who were really going to town. I think it was good practice for the triathalon because they were bobbing and swimming, and kicking their hearts out. Made for a lot of waves, which I definitely need to get used to. The first tri we are doing is in a pool, and about 100 people swim at a time. Not in the same lane, naturally, but in the same pool. Could make for a bit of....choppiness.

About halfway through my swim, a guy jumped in to share my lane. On one of my return laps he was hanging onto the wall putting headphones on. How cool! I have been wondering about listening to music while swimming. I asked him how he liked them, if they worked well, etc. We had a nice long chat about his awesome little accouterments.

Then he swam away and I went to wipe some water away from my nose. Turns out it wasn't water after all. You catch my drift.

How he didn't hurl right then and there is beyond me. Maybe his goggles were foggy.

For his sake, I certainly hope so.

Vacay

We were on vacation last week, and went to Florida for the warm, warm sunshine.

Apparently the warm, warm sunshine was also on vacation, but we enjoyed temperatures warmer than the Northeast and did not get rained on so we considered it a success.

One thing that was infinitely more fun in Florida was running. For one thing, the sights are so different. Palm trees, flowers, green grass. As opposed to potholes, barren pine trees and snowbanks. It was really nice.

And flat. Extremely flat. Makes running more fun for those of us who are not inherently fans. Of running that is.

I did stay on the lookout for reptiles of the funky sort. When we were on our honeymoon in Key West umpteen years ago I saw the oddest looking creatures that enjoyed creeping out of the bushes right in front of me while I wasn't looking. Scared the bejeezus out of me. Bright blue and green lizardy looking things. Some of them even crawled up the walls. I pretty much ran with my eyes on the ground to make sure nothing caught me unawares. Mission accomplished. No reptilian heart attacks this vacation.

Now we are back in the snowyish, coldish Northeast. And beginning the countdown to our first triathalon. May 8th. Just over two months away.

Okay then, I am off to hyperventilate. See you all in a few.

Progress Is Being Made

My daughter, sister and I ran in the Polar Bear 5K this weekend in Portland, Maine. Not as cold as it could have been—just a semi-chilly, beautiful sunny winter day.

I started the race with high hopes. My goal being to break a 40 minute pace. It started out promising- downhill. I do so love running downhill. The race wound around onto flat ground and then by the Portland waterfront. Very beautiful to look at.

Not so great to smell.

The race went right by Portland’s sewer treatment plant. ‘Nuf said.

It was still flat for quite a while and I felt like I had a good pace going. Not a whole lot of stopping. A little bit of fast walking. And no swearing .

Until the hill came into view. A winding, hairpin, straight up into the air hill. Oh. My. Gawd. Well, I guess what goes down must go up, right? So up I went along with the rest of the stragglers. You know, that group of runners that finishes so far behind the rest of the pack that people cheer them wildly just for their effort? I am officially in that group. But I embrace the slowness.

But not the Feaster-Five slowness. As the finish line came into view, my sister was standing there pointing at the clock, ticking away 38:29. I was so excited I almost lost my iPod as my arms flew up in the air in a geeky-cheer wave.

Yeah for progress.

This is my daughter, sister and me at the end of the race.

After burning hundreds of calories. And just before we hit IHOP.

I Almost Can't Believe It

Who am I, and what have I done with myself?

I am only asking, because two nights ago I set my alarm for 11:45PM, woke up and registered myself for a triathalon in August. I was dreaming I was in a wheelbarrow race when the alarm went off. I kind of wish that's what it was. At least then I would know what I was doing.

Exercising, running, swimming, ellipticalling, spinning.....all that stuff is great. It's been good losing some weight, getting back in shape, finding some semblance of a waistline.

But the closer we get to May, the more freaked out I am getting. What the heck am I doing?

After I registered for the Tri For A Cure in August, I could barely sleep. I started getting butterflies.

Again, what the heck am I doing?

I had a dream last night that I drove hours and hours from home to go to some 2-day athletic event. Then realized upon unloading the car that I had forgotten to bring my bike. I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart racing.

Oy veh. Subliminal?

Perhaps. I hope it subsides :)

Convenience? Check.

All talk no action. That's what's going on here.

After going on and on about Latitudes---which was quite honestly, awesome--we have decided to stick it out at the Y. Why? Because I'm lazy.

Not in the sit-on-the-couch-eating-chips kinda lazy way. Although I have been known to do that on occasion. It's more lazy in the I'm-driving-all-the-freakin'-time way. If you have ever doubled as a chauffer, you know that of which I speak.

Days when you go from dance lessons to guitar lessons to the grocery store to the post office to the dentist and then back home again? When you wish you had Depends on so you don't have to use some random public bathroom?

Lazy in that way.

Because, truth be told, having a gym 5 minutes away as opposed to 15 minutes away makes a big difference in the course of a week. In 4 round trips to the gym, that's a savings of 40 minutes. Not insignificant in my book.

So we are forgoing the beautiful locker rooms, larger facilities and expanded class schedule for the closeness of the Y.

But we will probably avoid the locker room. At least for a while.

Harder Than It Looks

Still swimming. Still biking. Still running. Just in case you thought I had keeled over from all that exertion.

Just not bloggin' about it. Truth is, it's harder than I thought it would be. The exercise and the blogging.

I have always loved writing. Ever since I was a little kid. Creative writing and I got a long great. Math and I? Not so much.

When I was in high school, I had this amazing English teacher. She really saw how much I loved to write, and encouraged me by having me take extra classes, and do extra writing to keep the creative juices flowing. Which was kind of good since they "advised" me not to take any math above trigonometry when I was a junior. Something about calculus being beyond me. Go figure.

My mom had this friend who did career counseling when we lived on Governors Island. When I graduated from the High School of Music and Art, she gave me a "session" as a gift which was really nice of her. She let me come and take all those aptitude tests that point you in the right direction before you start off on your college career.

There were all kinds of sections. Analogies, math patterns, writing, the works. Most of it was pretty enjoyable. Except for probably the math. When I see lots of words together I see descriptive possibilities, spelling patterns, latin roots. When I see numbers I glaze over like a 5'3" donut. And then I completely tune out.

So it was not suprising when the results came back. When asked to identify number patterns I had scored in the 20th percentile. Ouch.

When asked to freeform write about what my favorite movie was, I wrote 10 pages just because. She told me I should do something creative. And when I saw anything involving math, I should run very fast in the opposite direction.

Which actually did come back to haunt me later on in my working life. I was working for an insurance company (how's that for creativity), and was vying for a job in the marketing department. Standard company policy was to have all applicants take an aptitude test. Which was almost all about numbers. Which I bombed. Mostly because I got totally bored in the middle and started drawing on the back of the packet.

When my boss saw the results I think he was a little shocked. I mean, I don't come across as a moron, but I apparently test as though I might be one. So he told the hiring manager that I had done so badly because I forgot to wear my contacts that day. Which I didn't actually wear. And he hired me. For a job that involved absolutely no numbers. **Loved it**

In any case, the exercise is going decently well and the creative inspiration to bore you with the details of that exercise comes and goes.

I am still holding out hope that I can break the 40 minute 5K next weekend in Portland, Maine. After that, I need to get cracking on the details of the triathalon. Buy a spandex outfit to swim/bike/run in. That ought to be interesting. Take a class on how to change a tire on my bike in case I get a flat. That could prove to be even more interesting than the spandex.

Stay tuned and thanks for reading along :)

Deal Breaker?

Open letter to the person in charge at our (maybe) new gym:

I would like to start by saying that you have a great facility. Fabulous instructors so far, a wonderful class offering, awesome machines and lovely locker rooms. Helpful staff, great babysitting room--I could go on and on.

There is one complaint I would like to lodge. It pertains to your pool.

Usually when people swim they like to see where they are going. You know, a few feet ahead of them and all that? So you don't smack your head on the wall. Or bump into someone else who you can't see until you are on top of them.

You see, we went for a swim tonight. And it was a pretty good thing there was no one else in either of the lanes we swam in. Considering that there was so much chlorine in the pool it looked almost like lemonade. I exaggerate slightly, but you see the point.

Cloudy with a chance of collision. With the wall.

Please mention to the person who is responsible for maintaining the pool that when chlorinating, the idea is not to kill every living germ in any and every body of water within a 30 mile radius. Including the Atlantic Ocean.

Probably not a deal breaker, but it does give one pause when considering switching from a facility whose pool is it's main attraction.

Thank you for your kind consideration.

Signed,
Itchy swimmer with a huge bump on her head.

Shaking It Up

Loving the new gym. Really and truly.

Last Sunday we went to check it out. Ran on the treadmill whilst watching the Patriots have their heads handed to them by the Baltimore Ravens. I had never run on a treadmill before. It wasn't too bad. Except for the part when I was done and I still felt like I was moving. When I hopped off I swear the whole gym started swaying. Kind of like getting off a boat and are still rocking while you are standing on firm ground. Luckily it didn't last too long or I might have fallen over on my face. That would have been a tiny bit embarrassing.

Monday night Adrienne and I checked out a spinning class. Very nice. Fantastic instructor. Tons of sweat. Me likey.

Last night was the best, though. I have not done step aerobics in forever. Adrienne thought it would be fun to try. So off we went.

Now the only complaint I have so far is about Latitudes is the parking lot. Picture a race track. Then visualize it in a parking lot. That's what you have at this gym. Crazy drivers. Packed parking lot. Heart in mouth. Stopping short as someone cuts you off trying to find a spot.

Monday night we arrived at what must be the busiest hour for them-6pm. Nutsoville. I ended up dropping Adrienne off at the front door to get bikes in the spinning class. I circled the parking lot for almost ten solid minutes before finding a spot behind the building, about as far away from the front door as you can get. I considered myself lucky to get a spot that did not involve a fender bender, and grabbed it.

Last night--not so bad. Monday must be the day everyone vows to themselves to work off the chocolate cake they inhaled over the weekend, or something. I guess Wednesday is just not that kind of day.

The music was awesome. Loved getting back into the aerobics groove. My daughter did not love it so much. Five minutes into the class I looked over to find she was doing the syncopated version of step.

That is to say, off the beat. Shortly thereafter she put her step away, told me she was getting on a bike, and snuck out of class under waving arms and between dancing, sweating "old ladies". That's what we were. Apparently step is for boring grownups.

But whatever. It was great exercise, massively sweat inducing, and greatly motivating. And I can only imagaine all that cardio will help out with running in the end. Right??

Definitely.

The Right Equipment

February 5th, 2010 will mark my 3rd attempt to complete a 5K in under 40 minutes. 'Cept one thing. It's gonna be friggin' cold out. The Jolly Jaunt was no picnic, mind you. It had snowed the day before and was windy as all get out.

But an outdoor race. In February. In Maine???

I only registered for the race because registration for that allowed us early registration for the Polar Bear Tri in May. But now that we are registered (my daughter and I) she wants to actually RUN in it. Yikes.

Which means that sometime this week I will be making a trip to REI to check out those items that people who like to run outside in the cold USE when they run outside in the cold.

Like long running pants. I prefer to run in nylon capris. Just because. Pretty sure that is not going to cut it this time.

Maybe some Under Armour? That stuff is awesome except for one thing. It's kinda tight. Which is nice if you want to show off your curves. But when you have rather large......curves.....it doesn't really allow you to feel super comfortable. I prefer to hide my light under a bushel so to speak. My husband bought me what was supposed to be a running shirt for my birthday. A hot pink XL Under Armour short sleeved shirt.

He usually tries to pretend that something looks good on me, even if it doesn't. Twenty years of living with a person will teach you a thing or two about how they will react if you make disparaging comments about their clothing and how it looks on them.

When I came downstairs in this shirt, he didn't even try. That's how I know it was pretty bad.

So I am off to find the appropriate "stuff" to make running outside in the winter manageable. Not enjoyable, just manageable. I am not sure anything could make it enjoyable except maybe a motorized scooter. Or alcohol. Or both.

Considering that I will not run outside again until May, I wonder if I could just rent the stuff?

Frosticles

The holiday season did less damage than I had expected. The net gain? One pound. Not bad considering I subsisted on Chinese food, chocolate chip cookie dough truffles and wine for almost a solid week.

I attribute the lack of weight gain to exercise and luck.

The exercise regime has gotten a tad.....boring. In the interest of expediency, the elliptical has become my main form of sweat. It is in my bedroom, always at the ready and does not involve any driving or extra time. During the craziness of the holidays, school vacation and just plain life, I decided to forgo spending extra time driving to get to the exercise part and just skip to the exercise. At home.

But you can only do the same thing for so long. And now I am bored. Even some new music on my "new" iPod didn't do the trick.

So tonight, after I drop Madeline off at dance class I am off for a swim.

Something about it being 20 degrees out makes the thought of swimming very unappealing. But logically, it shouldn't matter, right? The Y is the same temperature as always. The pool will be the same temperature as always. I'll dry my hair before I leave so as not to catch pneumonia.

Then why does the thought of swimming indoors in January practically form icicles on my earlobes? I can't even think about it without shivering.

You know when you were little, driving in the car and you had to go to the bathroom so bad your eyeballs were turning yellow? And your mom or dad said, "Just think of dry things dear, like the desert"? Perhaps that kind of visualization would work. I'll dream of being on a Caribbean cruise, basking in the sun drinking girlie drinks with cute little straws. Maybe that will help me pretend I'm not about to submerge myself in a frigid pool.

Um, right. I'll let you know how it goes.

Circa 1986

I inherited an iPod shuffle from my daughter. I cannot believe that something so small can sound so good and hold that much music. Remember your first Sony Walkman the size of a small child?

Anyway, I took the opportunity to update my playlist and add some songs I heard on the radio recently. One of them was REM's It's The End of The World. I do love me some REM. And I don't understand the words to that song any more than I did when I saw them at a concert in college.

REM played at a divey indie concert house in downtown Detroit when I was a sophomore at the University of Michigan. And I loved them as much then as I do now. Which is to say lots and lots. Not to mention I had a huge crush on the person who drove me to the concert. I thought we were on a date. Turns out we weren't. Oops.

Which, considering how our first true "date" went, I am not surprised.

Let me explain.

He was a busboy where I worked. He lived in the East Quad which was where all the interesting, artsy, crunchy tree huggers lived. He was wickedly smart. And cute. He caught my eye over a pile of dirty dishes. It was *like* at first sight.

He asked me to go to the movies one Friday night. I was so excited I could hardly sleep for two days. Which was very bad come Friday night. I liked to stay up late then about as much as I do now.

I was in bed at 8:30 last night.

Turns out it was a foreign film festival. The movie was in French with subtitles. I am 99% sure I fell asleep. And 97% sure I snored. Which explains why he never asked me out again.

Until the REM concert. When he told me he had an extra ticket and wondered if I wanted to go. I thought that was code for "date". Turns out he had a date. Named Linda.

And an extra ticket. For me.

Boy did I feel like an idiot.

Hindsight being 20/20, I know now it was all for the best.