Friday, April 18, 2014

What Happened in NOLA Stays in NOLA

After the back issues I had at the Big Easy Sprint I spent a lot of time working on getting my QL muscles released and also trying to solve the shoulder impingement problem I've been ignoring for even longer than I've been ignoring the lower back pain.  I think I made progress.

Going in to NOLA 70.3 (swim/bike only) I knew it wasn't going to be pretty.  The shoulder pain had taken me out of swimming more than 1000 here and there for the last few weeks and even when did swim it was terrible.  I had no form, my feet were all over the place and I couldn't get the core to engage to give me any rotation.  I also struggled on the bike a lot in the previous 6 weeks due to the back pain.  But I was committed to doing the swim and bike portion so I packed up and headed to NOLA.  Without half of my tri kit.

In my mind the TT start would be completed within 45 minutes.  That's how long it took to get everyone in the water in Louisville.  But this TT start had long periods of down time between 'waves'.  Once again I was in the last wave.  So once again I was dead last.  Only dead last was almost two hours after the pros started.  And I did not have enough food for this.  I ate what I did have and just chilled in the grass.  Finally my wave was called and we all lined up.  They were putting six people in the water at a time and I was the odd one out. I really was last and I started my race with a cannonball.  Everything went down hill from there.

I think the only positive thing about the race was I swam straight.  But that is greatly overshadowed by my 37:xx swim.  Seriously slow.  Somewhat embarrassingly slow for me.  I swam sloppily.  Just like I had been swimming in the pool.  No coordination.  No reach.  The wetsuit pulled on my shoulders a bit which made it worse.  The swim just had no oomph!

Transition was pretty normal.  A little slow because of the wetsuit.  I also had to put a bike jersey on since I didn't have my tri kit top to wear (under the wetsuit). I made it on the bike and started rolling.  My Garmin was completely screwed up.  I wanted to keep a check on my power when I was riding but that field wasn't showing up.  I finally pulled over to fix it.  I wasn't racing, but I wanted some valid data from the ride.

I was finally on my way when I hit a bump and launched my bottle of nutrition.  I wondered if it was the same spot I launched it in 2010.  It wasn't.  I checked.  Once I was back on the bike with that bottle I realized my bottle cage was installed backwards.  The opening (top) was towards the back.   I was going to continue to launch it with every bump (and there are a lot of them on this course).  I decided to down my water and put the nutrition bottle on the down tube.  That was a bit awkward holding onto the extra bottle until an aid station came up.  Because of my bad shoulder I can't reach behind me to my jersey pocket with my right arm.  Because I'm uncoordinated I can't take my left arm off the bars and ride with my right arm controlling the bike. The ride was uneventful.  I didn't see drafting.  Nobody passed me except on guy and we went back and forth twice in 20 miles.  Then I passed him and never saw him again.  My power was low, my back hurt, my crotch was on fire from chafing.  I had no water on my bike and was dehydrated.  I lost all desire to ride my bike and forgot to eat.  It got ugly uglier.  If you've ridden the course you know that the last few miles are on concrete with a lot of bumps between the slabs. Every single bump jarred my back and my crotch.  And then for me the race was over.

The night before I picked up a bottle of something to drink after the race.  I swore it had rum in it.  It didn't.  And it tasted like crap.  I almost cried.  My race sucked and I couldn't even buy alcohol correctly.  It was that bad.  And that's it.  Or all I'm telling anyway.  Tomorrow is The Mullet Man Triathlon.  I can't wait.  Hopefully what happened in NOLA stayed in NOLA and it will be a good race.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

From Last to First...Big Easy Sprint Race Report

I toyed with doing the olympic distance but with the GCI relay coming up and NOLA 70.3 right after that I decided a sprint would be fun.  It is after all my favorite distance.  I decided to drive over the morning of the race which meant I left my house at 3:30 AM.  At 5:00 AM I decided driving two and a half hours for a race just over and hour long is too far to drive even when there is no traffic and you can set cruise control to probably a little too much over the speed limit.

The day before I had gone through my packing list 3-4 times.  I had everything I needed for the race, except for cold weather gear.  I finally realized I could put on my wetsuit and stay warm.  It helped but the sleeves are a little thin and the wind broke right through them.  I double swim capped it and was ready to go.  It was a time trial start and women 40+ were last.  I decided it didn't matter if I was first in my wave or last, I had to swim through people.  So, just like I like to do, I was the rotten egg....last one in. I didn't get to cannonball it like I did at IMLOU, just cross the mat and down the stairs.  I think I added 20 seconds on to my time waiting for the people in front of me to go down the stairs after they crossed the mat.  Lesson learned and in the end it didn't matter.

IM Lou.  I was no where close to landing on that dude.
I was worried about swimming in cold water, swimming in open water, and wearing a wetsuit.  I decided to take it very easy at first.  I just cruised.  I didn't have a panic attack (I don't think I blogged about my overwhelming panic attack at Lavaman 2013...lets just say it wasn't pretty and left me very frustrated because I'm a good swimmer and usually very comfortable in the water and will be worried about panic attacks during the swim for some time now).  My breathing wasn't affected by the cold and I didn't feel constricted in my chest from the wetsuit.  I thought I sucked at open water swimming when I did it a couple times a week.  I suck even more when I haven't really done it in about a year.   I've heard of people losing rings when swimming and I never understood how that was possible.  But now I know.  I spent the second half of the swim swimming with my right hand in a fist not wanting my ring to fall off.  I swam all over the course and passed a lot of people.  I got hung up in the congestion getting out of the water.  My swim was miserably slow.

The bike is looking very clean. And warm with gloves on.
My T1 was also miserably slow (almost 4 minutes I think).  I fell over getting my wetsuit off.  I had to sit down to put socks on (something I wouldn't normally do but because of the cold I did..and I'm glad).  I had to take one sock off and put it back on because it was on very crooked.  I stumbled with my helmet and shoes because of hands that were cold.  I decided to leave one of my swim caps on for the bike and that was the best decision of the race.


On the bike I was a bit slow to get going.  I had gloves to put on, also a great decision, but I probably should have put them on in transition.  Before the swim I stuffed a plastic grocery bag down my top and that helped a lot too.  Except I forgot to zip up my top so the bag was flapping in the wind and my cleavage was catching a lot of air.  Not to mention the swim cap let my helmet slide around a lot and my race braids were flapping in the wind too.  I was anything but aero.  But my bike was fast.  The actual bike, not my bike split.  It was fun passing people like they were standing still.  I realize the sprint was a small race and mostly a beginner crowd, but I was going to push it as much as I could and that means flying by people on road bikes.  And that's fun.

I've been having some back pain lately and it had been getting worse.  I kept telling myself 12 miles on the bike would be fine.  That lasted 4 miles.  I was in pain.  My left side was seizing and spasming with every pedal stroke.  I ended up hitting about 30 watts lower than I should have ridden.  The good thing is that I realized how jacked up my back was and decided I needed to fix the problem.  More on that later.

T2 wasn't much better.  I had to sit down to put my shoes on because of my back.  I had to walk slowly out of transition because of my back.  I had to start the run very easy because of my back.  At least my achilles wasn't bothering me (that problem has finally been fixed..more on that later).

The run was an out and back shaped like a candy cane.  On the way out I didn't see any other women (the olympic distance racers wouldn't be on the course yet, so the only women I'd see were pros and sprint racers).  On the way back I passed two women heading out, I was at least a half mile in front of them.  I picked it up some at that point, but then settled back into a pretty easy for a 5K pace.  I finished and was told I was the first female age grouper across the line.  That means I went from last person in, to first person done and that meant a win.  This was my goal for the race.

I didn't mean to leave the gloves on but I think it makes me look cool.
But then I looked at the results and it showed someone beat me (#1174...which was racked right next to me...and her name was Adam?).  And just like I did at the Cougars Running Wild race, I had to investigate to make sure I got what was rightfully mine.  And I felt just as silly as I did at the Cougars Gone Wild race because it was such a small and low key race that nobody really cared about except probably me.  I eventually went to get my bike out of transition and I met Adam.

He said "I wondered why I got a purple swim cap"
At the awards I let the announcer know that Adam was in fact a male and they gave me the win.  There were no overall awards for the sprint race, but I still know I won overall ;-).  It wasn't a great race for me, but it's a start and a learning experience after not really racing for almost two years.  I qualified for USAT AG Nationals, which was another goal of mine. I have three more sprint races in the next five weeks (one is called Mullet Man Triathlon...I love the race names down here!) and then an olympic distance mid may followed by a super sprint Memorial Day weekend.  This year I really am going to race myself back into shape.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

My Battle with Social Anxiety Disorder

I've been waiting to tell this story for about four months.  I wrote most of it in November and decided to not post just to be sure it was really happening.  And I think it is.

I've had social anxiety disorder for at least 17 years.  I remember the first time it affected me. I can remember a couple other major incidents where I had huge panic attacks from it.  And I can remember the last attack I had.  The last attack helped me finally define what it was and get the help I needed.

The first instance that I remember was right after I graduated from college.  I had quickly changed my career field (from pilot to intelligence) and got orders to move to Texas in about 10 days.  Everything was fine and I rolled out of town happy about my decision to not be a pilot.  I arrived in Texas not really knowing who was at the base but that I was one of the last Air Force Academy grads to arrive for training.   I ran into someone I knew from the Academy, but wasn't really friends with, and they invited me to a birthday party for someone else I knew, but wasn't really friends with.  I said I'd go.  I was looking forward to seeing who was at intel school and meeting new people.  But I didn't go.  I was ready to go out the door and I couldn't.  I went to bed and probably didn't get out of it until Monday morning for class.  I chalked it up as stress from moving, thinking I'd made the wrong decision (like every single person I talked to told me).

From time to time since that day in November of 1995 I've struggled with going out in public.  I don't think I ever used alcohol to cope with it, but going out drinking was what most of my friends did and after I had a drink or two I seemed to feel better about being out in public and meeting/talking to people.  I don't think I had any other major instances until New Years Eve 2003.  There were plenty of times I had problems speaking in public, being on committees with people I didn't know, and even going to work, but for the most part I was able to live a normal life.  I had great friends that I'd known for a while and felt comfortable going out with them.  I don't think I thought anything was wrong.  New Years Eve I went out with my roommate and his girlfriend, and another friend of ours.  We had dinner reservations at a place that would later turn into one of the places to be for New Years Eve.  At some point I found myself alone without anyone to talk to.  Brian was off hitting on someone and the roommate and his girlfriend were off dancing or something.  I was standing at the bar and someone offered to buy me a drink.  I panicked and ran into the bathroom and started crying.  I was crying because I knew my reaction was crazy and I didn't know what to do about that.  I ended up leaving the restaurant soon after that and taking a taxi home.  I think I told my friends I was feeling sick and was going home.  The next day everything was back to normal.

During this time I would frequently go out in large groups and met a lot of people.  I never met anyone without a friend introducing them to me.  I never realized my aversion to talking to people I didn't know.  Time ticked on and everything seemed normal.  I started to dread going out to run errands.  There were times I didn't eat lunch because of anxiety of having to talk to people I didn't know (I didn't realize this was the case for a long time).  I struggled with getting to work on time and I stopped working out unless I knew I wouldn't have to talk to people.  I knew something was wrong and went to see a doctor.  I was diagnosed with depression.  I tried a lot of different things but nothing worked.  Therapy & medications.  This issue is what caused me to leave the AF, I couldn't work to my potential. When I got out of the AF I got a job and eventually left because I knew I wasn't working the way my resume portrayed I would work.  I chalked it up to being a bad fit and not really enjoying the job.  This happened 2-3 more times.

During this time my social anxiety got worse.  I planned my trips out of my house at times when nobody else was out in the neighborhood.  I knew this was strange and convinced myself I was an introvert and/or that I just thought I was better than other people (which really stressed me out because I knew I didn't think that and was angry at myself for acting that way).  I struggled with thinking I was an introvert because deep down I knew that was not the case.  I had a couple good friends and would do things with them, but also bailed on them many times.  I reached out to some friends explaining I had depression and wanted some help from friends dealing with it.  People came through for me, but after a while I started bailing on them and I blamed them for not checking up on me, but the truth was they tried to and I just quit responding.  It's a joke in my family that we all hate talking on the phone.  That was the excuse I used.

At this point it's 2010 or so, and I was trying to train and race and go to school and have a job.  All of which were way outside my comfort level of social interaction.  There were times I forced myself to do things with people, even meet new people (some through the blog) and I did these things, but in the days and weeks after it I was exhausted.  My work suffered, my school work was complete crap and done last minute.  I hated training, but really wanted to because I knew it was something that made me feel better.  I signed up for races.  Many times I got up in the morning planning on going to them, but never did.  I had so many excuses.  Most of these were partially true, but they were things I could have easily overcome if I wasn't panicking about being out of my house.

It was a big downward spiral.  I knew I didn't like going out in public and that made me angry because I knew it wasn't me.  I never used the term anxiety and neither did my therapist and/or the psychiatrist I saw 1-2 times a year.  The therapist suggested weekly meetings, but I just couldn't.  I settled on every other week, and sometimes bailed on those.  The one thing that everyone told me was that it was obvious I had hope that I would figure it all out.  In the last three years I told doctors that nothing was working.  That it would get better for a day or a week, but nothing would really change.  Sometime in the last five years my medical records from when I was in the Air Force showed up in the National Archives.  When I left the Air Force I filed a claim with the VA for my foot problems and depression, but they were never looked at because my records were missing.  By the time the records were found I was miserable.  I was called in to see a doctor so they could review my claims and give the VA information about how bad each was.  The doctor I saw told me to go to the psychiatrist and ask for a different medication.  I did this, and my doctor just doubled the dose.  At this point I pretty much stopped working with therapists and psychiatrist because nothing was working.

The VA pinned me as having PTSD.  I didn't think that was the case, but I was tired of fighting.  With that diagnosis my medical treatment was guaranteed for life at no charge to me.  But I was still getting worse.  I would walk into a store to buy something and see there was a line of people and leave.  I told myself I was just impatient.  If I had to wait somewhere I made sure I looked busy so nobody would want to strike up a conversation.  I tried to actually be busy by reading, but I was so out of my comfort zone I couldn't focus on doing anything.  As soon as I could I went home.  If I ever managed to do 2-3 errands in a row I felt successful.  I realized how absurd this sounded, that I was proud of myself for doing errands, but that's the truth.  And it frustrated and embarrassed me, adding to my issues.  All of which just created more anxiety.

And then I moved.  I really thought change was good for me.  And it helped.  I was around family for the first couple of months and felt like I was social. I went to a couple races and met and stayed with people I didn't know.  But then I'd go home and be so emotionally spent that I was unable to do anything for a few days.

Then I had another panic attack.  I was at the doctor for a walk-in appointment for some fire ant bites.  I knew I had to wait but they couldn't tell me how long.  They refused to give me a guess.  I was in the waiting room and it started to fill up.  I started feeling panicked (which I interpreted as anger from being impatient) and got up and walked around.  When I got back there was only one seat left.  I sat down and within 10 minutes I was having a full blown anxiety/panic attack.  I hadn't had a panic attack since that New Years eve 10 years ago.  I'd always been able to escape before it got bad.  But this time I was having one.  I went to the admin desk and again asked how longer it would be.  The staff told me they had no idea.  I was angry at their incompetence.  One of the ladies was frustrated with me and made a smart comment and told me I could go see the patient advocate.  I did.  He was out of the office for a bit.  I stood in the hallway shaking and crying and finally someone went to find him.  He could see I was having a panic attack and had great anxiety.  I thought it was mostly about not knowing when I'd see a doctor but as soon as I was in his office I was a little better.  I explained to him my issue and said I was just having anxiety having to be in the waiting room full of people.  This was the first time I ever defined my problem/feeling/emotion as anxiety despite years of having my blood pressure go up when I was in social situations. He was able to get me in to see my doctor, who immediately yelled at me and told me I wasn't special just because I had anxiety. This set me off and I told the doctor off and after the appointment I switched doctors.  I happened to have an appointment with a new psychiatrist the next week and she asked why I had requested a change in the General Practitioner. I relayed the story to her and once again used the word anxiety.

It was right then that both she and I realized I wasn't having anxiety because of depression, I was depressed because of the social anxiety I had.  I started thinking of my problems in terms of having anxiety in public and doing my best to shield myself from that through isolation.  Just like that (with the help of Trazadone) I got better.  I guess it wasn't really just like that.  I noticed it slowly, but there were times I'd strike up a conversation with someone in the elevator.  Later in the day I'd think about that and realize how it wasn't the norm for me.  I ran my errands and managed to go to the pool to swim after.  I didn't have a problem leaving my house with my neighbors were in the yard.  Things were just better.  I've generally been much happier.  I have been able to train more.  I did cut back on classes this semester because I really struggled last semester with them and in January I wasn't sure if I really was better or if I'd sink back into it again.  I didn't want to set myself up for failure.

And then on Saturday I ran a race.  I hung out after waiting for the awards.  I approached a bunch of guys I didn't know and invited myself to ride with them.  I spent Sunday wondering if I would have done that six months ago.  I don't know if I would have or not.  I really think I would have been too tired after being in public for three hours to even think about riding and probably would have gone home and hibernated the rest of the weekend.  And that's when I realized I was back to being myself again.  The self that I hadn't really been for a very long time.  So I decided to post this post.  

I'm sure there will still be ups and downs along the way, but for the first time in a long time I'm not just hopeful about the future, but I know it will be better sooner rather than later.


Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Throwback Thursday. #KeepingItReal

I think almost everyone has read Lauren Fleshman's blog Keeping it Real.  And a lot of people have read her recent column in Runners' World about a challenge to post real photos of us not looking our best.  A lot of people have shared the column or written about how awesome that idea is, but not many people (that I know/follow/stalk) have actually posted the photos.  When I read the column I decided I would post mine.  And then I couldn't find them (I don't really keep them hidden in my house, I'm in the process of moving....but that's not to say they are on display).  I came up with a million excuses until Erin blogged about it and did it*.  So here we go.

I wish I always looked like this.
Or even this (yes, I see flaws when I look at that photo)*
Or especially this-my all time favorite photo of me...
sad that it's a picture of my butt that is my favorite ;-)
And I love all those photos.  Sometimes I hang them on the fridge as motivation.  I worked hard to get that fit (and the thin was really a byproduct, but sometimes it was the motivation).  But I don't.  Here is a photo of me when I wasn't as thin or fit.  If you want to see more just go to photos of me on Facebook.  I rarely delete a tag.

IMFL 2006
I realize a lot of people would be happy if they looked like I do in these photos or how I did before I started to training for that IM (I really have no photos when I was at 170-175).  And I was blessed with being naturally thin for the most part.  Even when I was 170ish people wouldn't think I weighed that much.  Everyone has things they are good at, talented at without trying, or some genetic 'gift' that others wish they had.  I could fill a notebook with the things my friends are good without trying that I am not.

Go ahead post your pictures, from way back when, or even now.  It seems like everyone appreciates it when someone else does it, so let other people appreciate your #keepingitreal photos.

*This photo also reminds me that #keepingitreal can apply to race results too.  I have a friend who yelled at me when I told him I was unhappy with my race because of the could have, should have, would have.  He's the one who reminded me how little I've run in the last 11 months.  We all started somewhere and most have us started again somewhere less than we wanted to too.


Sunday, February 16, 2014

Battle for Mobile Bay 5K

Who can resist a race 2 miles from your house? It's been a while since I raced 5Ks on a regular basis....15 years ago I moved to Las Vegas and was on antibiotics for having come in contact tuberculosis. On INH For 9 months I couldn't drink. Which really sucks when you live in Vegas and all your friends (and you) are still in the partying phase. So I threw myself into running. I trained with a local running club and ran 5Ks. My PR from then still stands strong. I honestly don't think I'll ever break that.

But today I set a comeback PR. That's how I'm going to track my PRs this year. No need to be bummed I'm not hitting the times I used to hit a few years ago. I will get there eventually and I will have real PRs then.

The race this morning was flat and had a strong head wind for the first mile and not much of a tail wind for the last mile. The middle mile was protected from the winds and wound around a residential area. I did a nice warmup with a few pick ups. I was reminded how light and thin racing flats are. I can't remember the last time I wore some. We lined up and I put myself a few rows back. The ladies in front of me were hoping to run 27 something. The gun went off and I quickly got out front and sized up the people around me. I ran a steady 7ish minute per mile pace. Not fast but what I thought I could hold. After the turn off of the main road I sort of lost my focus. There was a lot of looking around and thinking 'huh, I didn't know this street existed, there are some cute houses back here'. Oops.  It wasn't until a guy in leather tennis style shoes, wearing cammo pants, a leather belt and a polo shirt tucked in came by me that I realized I wasn't really racing.  Typical male ego picked up the pace when I started to pass him.  I let him lead until he had to stop and tie a shoe. Yep, he did that.


1 mile to go.  Hurting.
The last mile went by fast and I think I averaged 6:30ish There were three women right in front of me and a guy who runs very loud (stomping feet....this drives me crazy) right behind me. I couldn't shake him and wasn't really gaining on the ladies, but I kept pushing it. I caught one of the women with a quarter mile to go and she challenged me in he last 100 but I held her off by running so hard I could puke. And I did right after crossing the finish line.

My final time was 22 something. Not great for me, but significantly faster than the 5K I ran a month ago on Maui. 5th woman overall but 2nd in my AG. I don't do the could have, should have, would have....but well I did briefly today. And then I let it go. I'm coming off of a year of barely running. No speed work other than 2-4 pickups about every 2 weeks. And running about 15-20 miles a week. I thought about that and immediately texted my coach 'When will I start doing speed work?????' He hasn't answered yet. I also asked if I could do a half marathon next weekend. I think he's ignoring me...

They had beer at the finish line! 
After the race I stalked a couple guys who had tri bikes on their car and pretty much invited myself to ride with them. Waiting for awards and realized I was going to ride with people!!!! Any disappointment I had from not being in running shape was gone. I haven't ridden with anyone in almost a year!

The ride was a recovery ride fail. Twice as long and averaging about 80 watts higher than it should have been. But the ride gave me a lot of confidence in my bike fitness. I was able to do pulls at what I thought was my threshold for 7-10 minutes and it wasn't hard. And the guys were nice too. Today will have to be that recovery day.

Monday, February 10, 2014

Ragnar Relay-Team Road Killers


Team RWB Tampa (and me) at the start.  Not the team I ran with.
A few months ago I was invited to race on Team Road Killers for the Miami to Florida Ragnar Relay.  I've done a relay ultra before, but never one 200 miles long.  I had high hopes of being in fantastic shape and having a 100% healed achilles.  Oops. I think my average mileage per week since November was about 15.  Before November it was even less.  Not to mention I have done zero speed work in about a year.

I was really annoyed I had to run with a headlamp when the sun was out.
I was the seventh runner out of 12. My first leg was eight miles.  It was the longest of my three legs.  Ragnar has a rule that you have to wear night running gear if you will be running after 4:30 PM.  It was sunny and hot.  Here I am ready to go.  Sunglasses, visors, headlamp and reflective vest.  It was 86 degrees out.  I started off super conservative.  Or tried to.  My goal was to run about 8:30 pace.  I knew I could run faster, but I didn't want to overdo it and then not be able to run the next two legs.  I couldn't stay at 8:30 pace, but I did force myself not to run faster than 8 minutes/mile.  The first half of the leg had a ton of stoplights.  My team thought there would be water on the course for me.  I saw a lot of other teams pulled over giving their runners water.  At some point the heat and dehydration got to me and I became angry at my team for not stopping to give me water.  I tried to remain positive, but I was shivering and feeling light headed.  It was broad day light and I was wearing a headlamp.  There might have been an emotional breakdown about that.  Finally about mile 6.5 I saw my team with water.  They realized there weren't water stops and knew I'd be unhappy.  I survived the last 1.5 miles in a slightly better place.  No achilles pain and 8 minute miles for 8 miles made me happy. I felt great.  Leg one done.

After my first leg.  See it's still sunny out.  Notice the lack of a headlamp.
I might have thrown it at my team in the middle of a (heat & dehydration induced) tantrum while I was running.
My second leg (10K) started at 4AM.  I iced my achilles twice and did not sleep (not for lack of trying) between my first and second leg.  It was pitch black and a lot cooler.  There was a steady stream of runners in front of me to catch.  Everyone had on flashing blinkers so I could see them (and the rest of the mandatory night gear, which at 4AM seemed so much more useful than 4PM).   The race starts were staggered so the faster teams were at the end, so we had a lot of teams ahead of us to catch.  I counted 28 'kills' in my 6.2 miles.  It kept me motivated and running fast.  My achilles held up and I managed to run about 7:25 pace for the 10K.  Certainly not fast for me, but I was incredibly happy just to be able to run and feel good while doing it.

The medic probably thought I had a crush on him.  I stopped by a few times for the ice wrap.

Ready for the last leg.  
I finally got some sleep.  Maybe 30 minutes in the back of the van.  After a huge plate of eggs and bacon and grits and coffee and Diet Coke I was read for my last leg.  1.8 miles in stupid hot heat and humidity.  I tried to warm up (the legs, not me...I was already plenty warm), but the legs just felt dead.  I decided I'd just go out as fast as I could and try to hold on.  As fast as I could ended up being 7:15 pace.  The legs just wouldn't go any faster and since I didn't even think they would go that fast I just stayed at that pace.  1.8 miles later I was done.  Only minor achilles pain the entire relay.

I look like I'm running fast.  Not really, but it hurt.  
Sunday was a little rough.  My legs were stiff and I was tired.  I think I slept more than I didn't.  Today I'm feeling pretty good, my legs are still a little tight but not too tight to hop on the bike for 4 1/2 hours.  GCI Race is right around the corner.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

It's 5 O'clock Somewhere

I was up at 5 AM to do a trainer workout. Two episodes of Breaking Bad later I was done. 15 minutes of really really hard intervals is a great way to start the day.

And then I hit a kitten backing out of my driveway to go pick up my laundry (have I mentioned how much I love living around the corner from my mom!) I didn't notice until I got home. But I'm pretty sure it was me. The kitten was still soft and warm when I picked it up to dispose if it. I'm sad now.

Tonight at 5 PM I'll be on a flight to Miami for the Miami to Key West Ragnar relay. Out team name is Road Killers. Seriously. It sounded like an awesome name when we came up with it. I don't know how I feel about it now.

*I came up with this blog while I was on the trainer. It wasn't until I typed the name of the relay team that I realized the blog is a terrible and sad pun.