tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178912232024-03-23T10:51:51.794-07:00Ironman Dreamer<b>Memoirs of a middle-aged, late-blooming, Ironman triathlete. My joys and sorrows, my successes and failures, my trials, tribulations, and training.</b><p>
<p>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-55209625463033010412009-05-22T11:48:00.000-07:002009-05-22T12:10:56.946-07:00I'm Not Tri'ing (duh)...I love the sport, but after my last attempt at Ironman (Canada in '07), I lost ALLLL motivation, fire, and drive. Of course, it might have something to do with my latest job (working for a major aerospace manufacturer) and the shift I'm on (I start work at 2PM). Almost all my energy goes into my job. What's left is devoted to my spouse, home, dogs,and other interests. <br /><br />Hmmmm...I put up hummingbird feeders and took a video this morning. I need a way to view it with others when I'm not at home. I need to see if I can upload it. Never having done it before, it could be interesting. Not sure what type of hummingbird this is, either, except that I suspect it is female (because of the lack of coloring). <br /><br />Here goes...<br /><OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-3c892dfc8c4da0c9 height=266 width=320 contentId="3c892dfc8c4da0c9"></OBJECT><br /><br />Assuming that works, enjoy!PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-45945332355118700532007-06-30T21:47:00.000-07:002007-06-30T21:59:41.811-07:00Training RideOkay, so two weeks from today, I'm supposed to do the Seattle to Portland (STP) bicycle ride in one day. That's 200 miles of riding in one sitting (more or less). I'm not sure I'm ready for that. <br /><br />I did an 80 mile ride today and my quads were killing me. I was trying to figure out why. Maybe my nutrition wasn't spot on? Possible. Then I looked at the bike profile as uploaded to my <a href="http://www.trainingpeaks.com">TrainingPeaks</a>training log. They have a beta viewer they are trying out and it's actually pretty cool. Anyway, this is what my ride profile looked like (the red line is my HR, the green is the elevation). It would seem I did a fair amount of climbing!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovhycTiBzRdnOv2YmVbxppyNjCrXewJozEs3JqKPD6w5gFknarfe5ol2ZshHlT4Zxpy8Uz1y45JChphoGPkXDwKfR0ScgJk5vHYSUYU4GZdjVY9mtifeYj60PMoZPb6Ib6h1pnA/s1600-h/June+30-2007+Elevation+Profile.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovhycTiBzRdnOv2YmVbxppyNjCrXewJozEs3JqKPD6w5gFknarfe5ol2ZshHlT4Zxpy8Uz1y45JChphoGPkXDwKfR0ScgJk5vHYSUYU4GZdjVY9mtifeYj60PMoZPb6Ib6h1pnA/s320/June+30-2007+Elevation+Profile.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082088131033139714" /></a><br /><br />After the ride, I showered, went to the grocery store for dinner, cooked it, and blogged. Now I'm ready to hit the hay. I think the sun made me tired...or maybe it was just all the fresh air (which is so rural that the air was permeated with the smell of fresh manure!).PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-75902617093046181492007-06-30T20:42:00.000-07:002007-06-30T21:39:16.268-07:00What's An Ironman Swim Look Like?Yeah, yeah, it's been a while. I've been busy. The new puppy has kept us busy, but then I got laid off, had to find new employment and still try to keep up with my training for Ironman Canada 2007. <br /><br />In the meantime, I like volunteering at Ironman Coeur d'Alene, usually because I know so many people doing it. This year, instead of having the heat of the past few years, we had wind. It made the swim portion challenging at best and, and worst, potentially dangerous. In fact, it was so bad, that the race officials offered up the option of doing a duathlon.<br /><br />Anyway, I managed to snap a photo, from afar (if you are familiar with the venue, I was sitting on the steps near the Gatorade bottle) of the 2007 Ironman Coeur d'Alene swim start.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKKLYuAuC6KEJKI5OdX7PDCfMi_kZXjFEOII906KR5k78FWYnFhaMX83gzdG6YpSFRCrLRDtSpGxXjAkyoGrWiBpDcJMp72tTy_v7EceMR7c4ivLJV3Tbu-7a9I-iVHTyiYSXKg/s1600-h/IMCdA2007SwimStart.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKKLYuAuC6KEJKI5OdX7PDCfMi_kZXjFEOII906KR5k78FWYnFhaMX83gzdG6YpSFRCrLRDtSpGxXjAkyoGrWiBpDcJMp72tTy_v7EceMR7c4ivLJV3Tbu-7a9I-iVHTyiYSXKg/s400/IMCdA2007SwimStart.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082074511691844034" /></a>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-67911712271675024042007-06-30T18:22:00.000-07:002007-06-30T21:46:04.401-07:00New Puppy PicsJust because I've had people bugging me for them. :-)<br /><br />Here's one that shows how much bigger than the cat she has gotten.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GXFA-70co8ey6nGxgC-tjCHKUoZTlgkh7896askO7yhNzEDbA5I5ohfVfhns9YHXGLTgavTie6LGsLQpAo2t6qdiLQyEsesj7v7OlFEHpGUEJDNRYq1LVX5UTRKb6Od2nAWDUg/s1600-h/Bigger+Than+The+Cat+Now.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GXFA-70co8ey6nGxgC-tjCHKUoZTlgkh7896askO7yhNzEDbA5I5ohfVfhns9YHXGLTgavTie6LGsLQpAo2t6qdiLQyEsesj7v7OlFEHpGUEJDNRYq1LVX5UTRKb6Od2nAWDUg/s400/Bigger+Than+The+Cat+Now.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082082380071930322" /></a><br /><br />I caught this pose of her chillin' out on the steps leading upstairs.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJrXcLJcrZRgI9CWkH8ScsBYFbFe3a6uP3lMEHzo6GWP5tRsD_A49l7WgNN3Hl1b6lEnkkmRqxAW6Egfdmzs0OftJvsHFHtRjp6pWG-xLgjOrcaCMVDuZczVliP23zCy6OJce4A/s1600-h/Chillin+Out.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJrXcLJcrZRgI9CWkH8ScsBYFbFe3a6uP3lMEHzo6GWP5tRsD_A49l7WgNN3Hl1b6lEnkkmRqxAW6Egfdmzs0OftJvsHFHtRjp6pWG-xLgjOrcaCMVDuZczVliP23zCy6OJce4A/s400/Chillin+Out.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082082392956832226" /></a><br /><br />Oh, and her name is Smudge (or Smudgers), for the smudge of white on her nose:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5N46rdX14GAFCaYd37zCYbjByMfdh9hObH84BDtb4_a8eAXnSAO7UkbdrM8BlAY6w9D8Or2DLtVR3tSKO_we5GOR9vxQagtQl3M-wKECJ6PAs1RulLz11Bs_-JffgPvwQbz8Hvg/s1600-h/IMG_1276.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5N46rdX14GAFCaYd37zCYbjByMfdh9hObH84BDtb4_a8eAXnSAO7UkbdrM8BlAY6w9D8Or2DLtVR3tSKO_we5GOR9vxQagtQl3M-wKECJ6PAs1RulLz11Bs_-JffgPvwQbz8Hvg/s320/IMG_1276.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082083947734993394" /></a>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1165464165390088512006-12-06T19:56:00.000-08:002006-12-06T20:02:45.446-08:00Our Little Angel Is HereAnd she is beyond being cute. She is so soft and so little, but thinks she's a *BIG* dog. Our cat, named Puppy, of all things (different story), isn't terribly impressed. And in true puppy fashion, our little Angel (which is what we are thinking we will name her), is busy chewing on whatever she can, sleeping, or peeing and pooping where ever she pleases. Oh, yeah. I'm looking foward to squishy toe stuff in the mornings (NOT!).<br /><br />Since I can't resist, here are a couple more shots of our newest little darling and her proud surrogate papa.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/CanWeBeFriends.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/CanWeBeFriends.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/DaddysLap.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/DaddysLap.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1165373825887210072006-12-05T18:33:00.000-08:002006-12-06T05:59:36.700-08:00Good-bye Empty Nest!Well, that level of freedom lasted all of a month. Pat just couldn't stand it anymore. The house was simply too quiet for his tastes. So, we will soon be getting THIS little doll. Isn't she just tooooo cute? We pick her up tomorrow and we can hardly wait.<br /><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/NewBoxerBaby.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/NewBoxerBaby.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />And don't you just want to smooch on that face (yes, the one looking at the camera? Well, okay, maybe YOU don't want to, but I can assure you, she is irresistable to us.<br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/BabyBoxerFace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/BabyBoxerFace.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />She doesn't have a name yet, but she is a fawn boxer, born on 10/24, and currently weighs in at a whopping 6 pounds. She is not expected to get any bigger than 45-50 pounds which, by boxer standards, is relatively small, even for a female. We didn't care. We loved her as soon as we saw her picture (found her through a newspaper ad, but she lives 2 hours away). I don't mind saying we feel just like expectant parents.<br /><br />This means the search for a motorhome is on once again.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1162932656142032012006-11-07T12:49:00.000-08:002006-12-05T21:33:03.713-08:00Fall Flood 2006Here are some of the photos I took during the recent flood. Of course, there is a story to go along with the photos, but they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so maybe you can figure it out. Let me just say, it was a sleepless night as we watched the river rise.<br /><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/Jan2005Flooding.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/Jan2005Flooding.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Here is a picture of my neighbor's picnic shelter when the river is running high, but not cresting the banks (taken in 2005).<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/WaterCreep.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/WaterCreep.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>This is the same picnic shelter as the water began to overflow its banks.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/FloodFishing.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/FloodFishing.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Before completely evacuating, the neighbor's son (?) took time to do a little "fishing." Just by dipping his net into the murky water, he managed to snag two salmon!<br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookingSouth2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookingSouth2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>To add a little perspective, before it started to rain, this is what the river looked like (take from a bridge just a mile from my home and looking south). <br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookingSouthFlood1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookingSouthFlood1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Compare and contrast that with this picture, taken from almost the same viewpoint. The difference between the two is only 5 days and a whole lot of rain! Even at that, the river had not yet jumped its banks. <br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookAtThat.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookAtThat.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>When it finally did, THIS is what it looked like.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br />Now, same bridge, same sequence, but looking north instead.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/f2014422.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/f2014422.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> Note the depth from the top of the levee to the river in this picture is about 10-12 feet.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookingNorthFlooding.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LookingNorthFlooding.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>A few days later, the distance between the top of the levee and the river had been reduced to no more than a couple feet.<br /><p><br /><p><br />Sometime during the late evening hours, the levee had been breeched and began to flood the fields. <br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/NoLeveeHereLookingNorth.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/NoLeveeHereLookingNorth.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>This is what it looked like the next day.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br />Meanwhile, back at my house, the water continued to rise all night. <a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/Floodzone2006.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/FloodZone2006.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>When morning finally dawned, this is what the back part of my property looked like. The picnic shelter is in back of that blue house in the distance. (Dang, this pic isn't cooperating. I'll put up a different one.)<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/JoesFloodedBarn.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/JoesFloodedBarn.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>This is half of the picture above and shows part of my property and my next door neighbor's flooded barn.<br /><p><br /><p><br />Taking a walk that day and this is some of what we saw.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/MailAnyone.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/MailAnyone.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><p>Clearly, this is now the road to nowhere and mail delivery is NOT going to happen.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LuckyLogCabin.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/LuckyLogCabin.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Just a few inches are what kept this house from being completely flooded.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/HouseInundated.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/HouseInundated.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>This house is next door to the log cabin, but sits ever so slightly lower in elevation. The end result is evident.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/SubmergedMobileHomePark.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/SubmergedMobileHomePark.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I believe this mobile home park made national news. It is only a mile from my home.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br />Back in my yard...<br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/FloodDebris.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/FloodDebris.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Here is a photo taken somewhat from ground level and looking towards where the river should be. Note all the debris in the water. <br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/Debris2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/Debris2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>What a difference just a few hours can make. Same view, but taken after the rain had stopped. The waters have obviously begun to recede. Again, note all the debris; that's someone's siding in my yard.<br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><br /><a href="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/SunsetRefelctions.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o240/PuddyRat/SunsetRefelctions.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>And in the midst of all the chaos is beauty, found in a sunset reflection.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1162753784109797482006-11-05T08:59:00.000-08:002006-12-04T23:53:28.356-08:00Good-bye Precious, Hello Empty NestWell, I've finally figured out why I never got the "empty-nest" syndrome when my kids moved out. I always had a house full of pets! When the kids left (well, they left, came back, left again, and with 5 of them, that's a lot of coming and going), I still had 4 cats, a dog, and a bird to take care of. My house was never really empty. <br /><br />Shortly before moving into this house, though, we gave the bird (a Nanday Conure named Echo, who would always start squawking when you got on the phone) to someone better able to take care of him. Then, I lost my first cat (a gray long-hair domestic named Spanky) shortly after I moved into this house six years ago. He either ran away or was caught by a coyote (we didn't find him in the streets or anything). <br /><br />This year has been one of the toughest, though. I lost PuddyRat, my most favorite and cherished cat, earlier in the year (followed on the heels of my mother's death). I'd had him for close to 15 years and he was most definitely MY cat. <br /><br />Then, a few weeks ago, we made the decision to let our very vocal tuxedo cat go after a bite he got became infected. He was a good cat, but not terribly cuddly, so no one was really close to him. Still, it was another in a long line of recent losses.<br /><br />Yesterday, however, we had to make the decision to let our dog, Precious, go. Precious was our Boxer Baby, and about as sweet a dog as one could ask for. She was always good around my grandchildren from the time they were infants, through toddler stage, to young children. She was a wonderful guard dog, always letting us know when someone was approaching the house or at the door. She was even more alert, barking constantly, when either of us was in the house alone and taking a shower, or if we were both home, but otherwise, um, engaged. <br /><br />When she was still well, she used to like to zip around the yard as fast as she could. We'd stand in the center and clap our hands and she'd run around in circles around us. She had floppy ears and when she wanted to play, she'd get down on her "elbows" with her butt up in the air and that little docked tail wig-wig-wigging back and forth. She couldn't wag her tail as there simply wasn't enough there, so we called it wigging. <br /><br />This month, Precious would have turned 10, which is moderately old for a Boxer, but not so old for a dog. As she got older, she became only a little less rambunctious. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. While she was no longer consumed with puppy-itis (that lasted about four years), she was still able to chase the squirelly squirrels and dig holes with exuberence. <br /><br />However, while we realized she was getting on (she could no longer travel long distances in the car), we didn't realize how bad until we took her with us to a race. Pat was running a half marathon and I was standing on the sidelines. We parked our car and walked to the race start. It was only then that we realized she'd been dragging one of her back paws as the "knuckle" was raw and bleeding. This was the beginning of what I consider to be a fairly rapid decline in our dog's health. I mean, we knew she was getting worse, but I don't think either of us realized (much less admitted), just how bad she was.<br /><br />In the last few weeks, she's gotten to the point where the nerve damage in her back was so bad that she was walking on her knuckles without even realizing it. She walked sideways because she had no control in where her back legs were going. We had throw rugs spread out in all the areas of the house with bare floor because she couldn't get any traction and her legs would splay out behind her. When her back legs weren't going opposite directions, she would trip over them and fall down. We would carry her up and down the stairs, but carrying 60 pounds of solid dog up and down stairs was a little much for even our aging backs. We got to the point where we would help her up the stairs by wrapping our arms around her middle (she didn't like the strap we had), and crawling up on all fours ourselves.<br /><br />It was excruciating to watch her decline, but she was Pat's dog and I had to let him make the decision to put her out of her misery. My heart ached whenever I'd watch her walk or get up or down out of a chair. When it became evident that her front legs were also starting to exhibit some of the same symptoms, he finally decided it was time to say good-bye.<br /><br />So, Saturday morning, she got to eat a whole steak all by herself. Pat cooked it for her. I lay on the floor with her for an hour just holding and cuddling her, and kissing her soft ears. Just before we left for the vet, I let her lick a large spoon with peanutbutter on it as I ate my toast. She sure did like peanutbutter!<br /><br />When we arrived at the vet's, they took her weight, then took her into the lab (without us) to insert the catheter. Meanwhile, we were escorted into a small waiting room. The room comes complete with a stuffed couch and chair. Mats are placed on the floor along with blankets. I lay on the floor with her once again and held her. She was very excited as she was unclear about what was going on. She couldn't understand what we were so upset about and who was this man holding something in his palm. As we said our good-byes, the vet surreptitiously inserted the needle into the catheter. Seconds later, she was gone. <br /><br />Pat and I both sobbed. Precious had been such a large part of our lives for the last 10 years. She was one of our surrogate children and one of the most favored. We didn't do anything without considering the ramifications to the her. We hesitated to go anywhere unless someone we trusted was able to watch her. Pat stayed home with her this last August while I did Ironman Canada because she was doing so poorly. I don't regret that decision. After a short time with her now lifeless, but still warm body, we left. We opted for a private cremation, so now we wait for their call saying her ashes are ready to be picked up.<br /><br />When we came home, I immediately started clearing her things out. It was something I felt like I needed to do while I was still slightly numb. I also did it in the hopes it would help my husband, so he wouldn't have to deal with it. He is more devastated by her departure than even I. In the same way that PuddyRat was MY cat, Precious was HIS dog. We refered to her as "Daddy's Girl." She was his buddy, his pal, his best friend. She was always there for hime, always glad to see him, she never complained (even when she wasn't feeling well), and she never criticized. <br /><br />I emptied her food bowl and cleaned it, then gave it and the left over bag to my step-son for his dog. I picked up some of the extra throw rugs and threw them into the laundry room for washing later (some I threw out). I collected her medicines and treats and removed them from the cupboard. As she became increasingly crippled, Pat had built stairs for her so she could still climb up onto our bed (yes, she ocassionally slept with us). I moved those out of the way. I picked up her basket and moved it outside.<br /><br />Now I wonder if I was mistaken to do all that so quickly. Suddenly, my house feels so damned empty. I only have one cat now (called "Puppy" of all things, but that is a different story). I guess I've finally come face to face with that "empty nest" syndrome I've heard people talk about, but never really understood. I didn't understand because my house, my home was never really empty. I always had stuff going on. If one child wasn't living with me, another one was. When I finally didn't have any children living with me, I had parents living with or near me. <br /><br />Always, I had a house FULL of activity. Now, I have next to nothing and I don't quite know what to do about it. We've chosen, for the time being, not to get another dog. While we are devastated by the loss of our pets, there is also a certain sense of freedom and relief that comes with it (along with a small dose of guilt for feeling free and relieved). Now if we want to take off to Vegas or Phoenix or San Diego or Mexico for a weekend, the only thing holding us back is money and time off from work. We don't need to worry about who will watch over all the animals. After all, cat's are pretty self-sufficient for about a week so long as they have food, water, and a litter box, so that is not a worry.<br /><br />I suppose once Monday comes around and we get back into our regular routine of going to work and the general vagaries of life, we will feel the losses a little less acutely. For now, though, the pain is sharp and I suspect we will have at least a dull ache for some time to come. The fact that it's winter and the weather is quite dull, gray, wet, and dreary probably doesn't help us much, either. Stupid to blame the weather, but I can't help but think if we had sunshine it might somehow be easier. Then, again, maybe not. I don't and won't really know, now will I. What I do know is that it hurts and the silence is overwhelming.<br /><br />And wow...if you read all that depressing drivel, I'm impressed. I wrote all this down for me and no one else. I've been so negligent about my blog, I find it unlikely anyone still pays any attention to it. I guess I really should finish my race report. At the very least, my coach will be expecting it.<br /><br />Anyway, I expect I'll be back to my usual cheerful and chipper self soon enough. Rock on.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1159413079193562122006-09-27T19:56:00.000-07:002006-09-28T06:49:48.996-07:00IMC 2006 -- The SwimThe alarm went off around 4:00, not that I needed an alarm. I had slept fitfully most of the night. First off, I was afraid I’d miss the alarm and second, it wasn’t my bed. Nerves weren’t as big an issue this year as they were last year. Last year, I couldn’t eat for several days prior to the event and I darn sure didn’t sleep. This year, eating and sleeping weren’t really a problem.<br /><br />After making some coffee and eating some toast, I realized I’d forgotten my Boost Plus at home. That was something I was going to ingest 30 minutes or so before race start. I would be starting the race out at a calorie deficit. That wasn’t good, but there was nothing I could do about it now.<br /><br />I quickly ate my breakfast and got dressed, putting my special needs bags into a backpack. I remember all too well what it was like trying to carry the special needs bags by their skinny little plastic handles. They stretch out by the weight of their contents and those skinny little handles bite into your fingers causing pain before they cause numbness. I didn’t want whoever was going to transport my bags this year to experience that.<br /><br />Feeling ready, I headed out the door. I reminded myself to take it easy getting to the race start. I wasn’t racing yet, I wasn’t late, so I didn’t need to hurry the mile or so to the race site.<br /><br />Almost on automatic, I dropped off my special needs, got body marked and headed to the transition area. I checked my bike tires and they seemed to be fully inflated. I added my water bottles to my bike and filled my front aerobar water system. Before I realized it, the time had come to put on my wetsuit and head for the start.<br /><br />On my way, I ran into Kelly Heizenger, an incredibly gifted over-40 athlete, who I am really glad will never catch up to my age group. Finally, after the Canadian national anthem was sung (the refrains of which I would hear in my head THE REST OF THE DAY – and I’m not Canadian!), we moved en masse to the swim start.<br /><br />As I headed out to the beach, I saw <a href="http://www.ironayla.com/">Darcy </a>on the sidelines. She waved excitedly and I smiled back, but in my haste to get in the water, I didn’t stop. I regret that now as she could have taken a picture that may have been only slightly more flattering than the one she did get of my swim exit (I’m astonished she was able to do that much). <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/IMCSwimStart.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/IMCSwimStart.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I entered the lake and prepared to flood my wetsuit with the cool morning water. This first part is always one of the hardest for me. As soon as I get over the shock of the chill, I’m usually okay, but if I don’t do this first, I’m prone to panic in the first part of the swim. After a few strokes, I felt relatively comfortable and I continued to marvel at how calm I felt. Gone were the butterflies that plagued me last year. While some niggling doubt remained regarding my ability to finish the bike, I was feeling mostly confident.<br /><br />Back on the beach waiting for the cannon to go off, I saw <a href="http://seujan.blogspot.com/">Seujan</a>. We hugged and chatted briefly, then moved off to find our respective positions in the water. Seujan is a bit of a fish, so she moved closer to the front. I’m not as confident as that, but more confident than I’ve been in years prior, so while I didn’t move to the front of the line, I did manage to position myself somewhat in the middle of the pack. No longer did I feel the need to position myself way off to the side and in the back. I only hoped I wouldn’t get clobbered by anyone as a result of my decision.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/IMC2005SwimStart.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/IMC2005SwimStart.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Before I knew it, the cannon sounded and everyone surged forwards. It was hard to want to swim right away for three reasons. First, I hadn’t yet reached the official start line (a row of flags hung up over the water, second, I was still only knee deep in water, and last, because no one else started swimming until the water got a little deeper.<br /><br />As I began swimming, I did my best to find the path of least resistance. That meant I did what I could to not run into other athletes. I don’t know anything about drafting and have yet to practice that particular art form. I wasn’t going to start it now. <br /><br />One of the first things I noticed, though, was how loose my timing chip strap seemed to feel. Mind you, I have opted for one of those extremely comfortable neoprene straps. If you've never used one, I highly recommend you get one. They are so comfortable you don't even realize it's there, they don’t cut into your ankle like those damned plastic straps can, and they are just nicer looking than the plain velcro straps. <br /><br />Anyway, during the swim, I was absolutely convinced the damn thing was going to come off and find it’s way to the bottom of the lake, then I’d be on the hook to cough up the dollars for its replacement. As such, I found myself doing very little kicking. Instead, I tried to pretend I had a pull buoy between my knees and I'd lift my hips in an effort to take advantage of the natural buoyancy of the wetsuit. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/IMC2005Swim2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/IMC2005Swim2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I managed to stay relatively contact free during the swim except a few times. This can be extemely difficult to do. Ironman Canada is a mass swim start (as are most Ironmans) and not the more civilized wave start of smaller (and usually shorter) triathlons. There was one time, though, when someone was touching my feet so repeatedly that I resorted to kicking very quickly and strongly just to lose them. Geez, but that was annoying. To be honest, though, I was worried that my chip strap was loose and I was afraid they would inadvertantly grab it and I would end up S.O.L.!<br /><br />I remember NOT looking at my watch. I didn't want to be distracted by how much time had passed, how far I had gone, how much further I had to go, how fast I might or might not be, so through supreme effort on my part, I refrained from looking until I climbed out of the water. When I did, I was both surprised and thrilled. It read 1:33 and change. OMG! When did I get that fast? Of course, the official time was 1:34:44, but that was definitely faster than the 1:42 I did last year. Wooohooo!<br /><br />I did make one mistake during my swim and that was at the swim exit. I learned early on to swim until my hands touched the bottom. I didn't do that this year and I should have. Since I didn't, I ended up losing some time just because I was fighting water that was hip deep when it should have been no deeper than my knees.<br /><br />Well, lesson learned, and I headed in to T1...<strong></strong>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1157552101155396612006-09-06T07:00:00.000-07:002006-09-11T20:04:48.243-07:00IMC 2006 Race Report (continued)Just for Carole (she knows who she is)<br /><br /><strong>Pre-Race</strong><br />I drove up to Penticton on Wednesday. Seems I always feel like I'm in a hurry, even when I'm not. There was plenty of time to get to Penticton, but I felt the need to get there lickety-split which means I was speeding most of my way there. When I finally arrived, I figured I'd averaged about 65 mph the whole way there. Considering some of the roads I was on, that was pretty fast. Darned lead foot.<br /><br />Once I arrived, I checked into my hotel, put some of my things away, and decided to walk down to the Ironman village to see what was up. Not too many athletes had arrived yet, so the hustle and bustle activity was at a minimum. I snooped around the merchandise tents, and bought a polar bottle and some CO2 cartridges.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/The_Peach.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/The_Peach.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Then I walked back to my room, taking a picture of the infamous "peach" along the way. When in Penticton and someone says they'll meet you at the peach, this is what they are talking about. It's right on the beach and you simply cannot miss it.<br /><br />Wednesday evening was spent just relaxing and reading a book. Reading is something I enjoy tremendously, but finding the time to read while working full time and training for an Ironman is next to impossible. However, one of my co-workers had suggested I might enjoy reading Ken Follet's, "Pillars of the Earth," and loaned me his copy. I read the first paragraph while at work and knew I would be completely and totally engaged in the story. I vowed to use my spare time pre- and post-race to read the book and I'm not sorry I did.<br /><br />I spoke to my coach, briefly. We concentrated our conversation on my nutrition (which is something I'm still working on dialing in) and hydration plan for the bike and run. She told me to figure out how many more calories I was going to need for the bike (what I'd told her previously hadn't satisfied her) and we talked about how I could carry that many. So that night I also spent trying to figure out my calorie and electrolyte needs.<br /> <br />Thursday, I got up early and met Lori and Darin "at the peach" for an early morning swim. Lori is both a friend and training partner and has also competed in two Ironman's, but it was her husband, Darin, that would be doing his first Ironman. He had only just learned to swim within the last year, so getting through an Ironman swim was going to be a challenge. I'm very pleased to say he did really well.<br /> <br />After our swim, I headed back to my hotel room where I changed and prepared for a short bike. I went out on the IMC run course for about 8 or 9 miles then turned around and went back. On the way out, I felt good and was encouraged by how fast I was going. I figured since I was lakeside that I must be on a slight, albeit imperceptible, downhill. Then, again, the thought occurred to me that my taper was doing wonders for my bike speed. HA! I should have known better. The answer to my speedy ride was answered when I turned around. I'd failed to notice how choppy the lake was, but I can assure you, I took notice when I turned around as I had a rather brisk wind in my face.<br /><br />Later that day I went back to pick up my packet. I got weighed. That was fun for a change as I weighed considerably less at this race than I did at last year's race. I would love to have seen what the scale said immediately after my race. I'm sure we all drop a lot of weight (mostly water).<br /><br />Friday was a short run day and I did a few strides along the Okanagen River. During the summer, thousands of people float down the Okanagen River (more like a slough) from Okanagen Lake to Skaha Lake. It's not a white water ride or anything. In fact, it's quite leisurely. There is a business at the start of the river that rents out floats. At the other end, is a bus that takes everyone back to the start. One of these days I'm actually going to float that river!<br /><br />Friday night was the carbo dinner. My hotel was close enough to the Penticton Trade and Convention center that I could walk to it. I got in line with thousands of other athletes. I felt a little lonely as there was no one else there that I knew, or if I did, I didn't know where they were. I did my best to strike up a conversation with the other athletes in the line. All night, I found myself explaining that, "<em>no this isn't my first ironman...I DNF'd last year...I came back to take my revenge on the course."</em> By the time the awards banquet came around, I was at least able to say, <em>"no this isn't my first Ironman, but it's the first one I finished</em>" with a very large smile on my face.<br /><br />I'm always touched and inspired by all the athletes at the carbo dinner. I saw a man with pink hair. Funny, I saw the same man at the Super JocknJill Half Marathon two weeks later. That pink hair and wild tights are a little hard to miss. I have no idea who he is. Anyway, at least one of the athletes at the dinner had done over 20 Ironman Canada's. That's impressive.<br /><br />Saturday was a very lazy day for me. I only had a 15 minute swim and a 15 minute bike. After I did my bike ride, I had to check my gear bags and bike into the transition area. Later that day, Darcy met up with me and I nuked my pre-race dinner. We chatted while my dinner cooked and she hung around while I ate. She left early in the evening as she also need to get something to eat and I wanted my quiet time. I was eerily calm this year. Last year, I had been so fraught with nerves I was unable to sleep or eat in the days leading up to the race. I think it's because I knew deep down in my heart of hearts that I wasn't really ready last year. This year was different. I'd done the training. I had put an extra thousand miles on my bike. This year, I was ready. <br /><br />Sure, I still had doubts, but Pat didn't. Neither did my coach. They both tried to reassure me by telling me that I'd put in the training this year. Last year I hadn't done everthing that I needed to do. This year, I had. <br /><br />Finally, it was 9:00 on Saturday night and I'm really enjoying the story I'm reading. Then it dawns on me. Hey, dummy...you have a race in the morning! Like, hello? You need to turn out the lights and get some sleep. Before I do, I go to the door and look out at all the rooms around me (I had a pool view and all the doors opened onto the pool, so I could see them). Not a one of them still had a light shining. They were all dark. Everyone had gone to bed. So did I.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1156974228958942722006-08-30T14:39:00.000-07:002006-08-30T19:11:34.340-07:00Ironman Canada 2006 Race Report<strong>Post Race</strong><br /><br />Just wanted to share a couple pics before I go into the race report. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Sm_IMC_Tattoo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/Sm_IMC_Tattoo.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>People have asked to see a pic of my new tattoo. Mind you, I'm a 50 year old woman believes most tattoos should be reserved for thugs and sailors. But, I simply couldn't resist the allure of the M-dot tattoo. It was something I could take to my grave (or the crematorium) and show off in the nursing home when (if) the time should come. Only those who have completed an Ironman race are entitled to sport the tattoo. <br /><br /><br />Next, I want to share a couple images that greeted me when I arrived home. While I had friends with whom to share the IMC experience, none of my family including my husband were in attendance. All week long I had made a joke about my husband staying home to take care of the dog. This is entirely true. She is not well and I fear we will have to put her down soon. Like <a href="http://stepawayfromthecake.blogspot.com/2006/08/it-is-saturday-right.html">Flo's poor dog, Mz Nals</a>, my Precious is becoming increasingly crippled. Going up and down stairs is a chore and running around the yard is no longer an option. So, Pat stayed home with Precious (yes, that really is my dog's name!). <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/IM_Home_Greeting_smallcrop.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/IM_Home_Greeting_smallcrop.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> In spite of this, we stayed in touch by telephone (oh, the miracle of technology). Unfortunately, on the day I was scheduled to arrive home, Pat had to go to work (he works a swing shift), which meant I would arrive home to a more or less empty (save for the dog and cats) house. As I approached my home, I got very excited. It just felt good to be in familiar territory again. Imagine my surprise, then, when I pulled into the driveway and saw this on my garage door. I was thrilled that my husband had gone to such simple pains to make a big deal out of my accomplishment.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/baloons.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/baloons.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>My wonderful husband is full of surprises, though (life with him has <em>never </em>been dull), and he had one more up his sleeve. I was satisfied and content with the sign on the garage door. It meant the world to me and practically had me in tears. But when I entered my home and went into the living room, there were more streamers, a Supergirl (that's another story) balloon, and a congratulatory card. It was more than I could have asked for.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1156899837103720102006-08-29T17:57:00.000-07:002006-08-29T18:03:57.133-07:00I AM AN IRONMAN!!YEEESSSSS!!!! I DID IT!<br /><br />Late Sunday, I became an <strong>Ironman</strong>. <br /><br />I've only just gotten home, but don't want to worry others any further. I'm home, I'm fine. My swim and bike rocked. The marathon sucked, but I prevailed and scooted in with less than 20 minutes to spare. <br /><br />I'll write more when I have more time. Right now, I need to unpack the car, throw some clothes in the washer, and get more to EAT! <br /><br />Oh, and, yes. I got the tattoo.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1156128281425620382006-08-20T19:33:00.000-07:002006-08-20T21:13:03.693-07:00Time's Up!This is it. It's time. Today makes one week to Ironman Canada. One week from today, I hope to be calling myself an Ironman. Of course, it might be a week from midnight when I do it, but still. My bib number is 2483. Strange. My bib number from last year was 2384. That is just weird.<br /><br />You would think with me being in full taper that I would have had time to add to my blog. No such luck. I don't know how the rest of the blogging world does it. I simply cannot train for an Ironman, work full time, and still find time to blog. I've darn sure had precious little time to read anyone elses blog. My thanks and my apologies to those of you that stop by occasionally to see if there are any updates only to be disappointed. I have several posts started (usually as it relates to my training), but none I've been able to finish. I'm not sure I'll ever get them posted.<br /><br />Oh, yeah. I turned 50 last Wednesday. Funny thing about that. Remember that Tanita scale post? The one that gives us our relative age? Well, while I was busy turning 50 chronologically, the Tanita scale was busy turning back the clock on me and I turned 30...even 29 in there somewhere. Yeah!<br /><br />One other funny thing about it. My mother always told me that life begins at 40 and even at 20 I believed her. Once I turned 40, I agreed with her whole-heartedly. So, for my 50th birthday, Darcy gives me a card that tells me "since life begins at 40, that means you are only 10 YEARS OLDS!" Yeeehaaaaw! I'm only 10. When I mentioned this to someone else, they asked if I would have to go through puberty again. Oh, Lordy. Thanks. I think I'd rather face menopause than go through puberty again. Looks like I'll be staying 50. But, I have to admit, I'm more fit at 50 (even though I still weigh 10 or 20 pounds too much) than I ever was at 40, 30, or even 20.<br /><br />So, I admit that, while I am significantly better prepared this year compared to last, I'm still more than a little anxious about this race. I have some high expectations of myself, like actually finishing the damn thing. However, since I'm one for numbers, let me share a few with you.<br /><br /><table bordercolordark="navy" bordercolorlight="navy" border="2"><br /><tbody><tr><td></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Swim (yds)</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Hours</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Bike (mi)</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Hours</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Run (mi)</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Hours</strong></div></td></tr><br /><tr><td><strong>2006</strong></td><td><div align="center">118700</div></td><td><div align="center">54:46</div></td><td><div align="center">2315.0</div></td><td><div align="center">168:33</div></td><td><div align="center">466.7</div></td><td><div align="center">89:11</div></td></tr><br /><tr><td><strong>2005</strong></td><td><div align="center">141500</div></td><td><div align="center">63:12</div></td><td><div align="center">1253.3</div></td><td><div align="center">95:37</div></td><td><div align="center">403.9</div></td><td><div align="center">80:12</div></td></tr><br /><tr><td><strong>Variance</strong></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:red;">-22800</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:red;">-8:26</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:green;">+1061.7</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:green;">+72:56</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:green;">+62.8</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:green;">+8:59</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />I have quite obviously added traded off some of my swimming time for time on my bike. While I did have fewer yards swimming, I had significantly more miles cycling. Another interesting point. While I didn't have that many extra hours of running this year over last, the time it took to put in the extra miles is significantly less. To help compare and contrast, below is a table of my average times this year compared to last. <br /><table bordercolordark="navy" bordercolorlight="navy" border="2"><br /><tbody><tr><td></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Swim (min/100 yds)</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Bike (mph)</strong></div></td><td><div align="center"><strong>Run (min/mile)</strong></div></td></tr><br /><tr><td><strong>2006 Avg. Pace</strong></td><td><div align="center">2:47</div></td><td><div align="center">13.7</div></td><td><div align="center">11:27</div></td> </tr><br /><tr><td><strong>2005 Avg. Pace</strong></td><td><div align="center">2:40</div></td><td><div align="center">13.1</div></td><td><div align="center">11:47</div></td></tr><br /><tr><td><strong>Variance</strong></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:red;">-0:05</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:green;">+0.6</span></div></td><td><div align="center"><span style="color:green;">-0:27</span></div></td> </tr></tbody></table><br /><br />It must be noted that the above table should be taken with a grain of salt. There are so many variables in the mix. For example, you'll notice I'm 5 seconds per yard slower in the swim this year than last year. However, I spent more time doing kick sets this year than I did last year. On the bike, it shows I'm only a little more than half a mile per hour faster, but it doesn't show what the average terrain was or weather conditions. The only place where the comparison is more indicative of my improved readiness and fitness is on the run. While it's true, I only show a 30 second per mile improvement, over a marathon distance, that adds up to being a full 8 (almost 9) minutes faster. <br /><br />So, all there is left to do is launder my workout clothes and pack my gear. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Time is up. There is no more training to be done. There are some short workouts left, yes, but that's just to keep the proverbial pump primed. Training time has come and gone. Now I must have faith in my coach that my training will carry me through the day (especially through the bike and onto the run course). Wish me luck?PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1152837786864979012006-07-13T17:39:00.000-07:002006-07-14T04:33:16.290-07:00Latest AdditionAnnouncing the arrival of Caitlyn Renee (grandchild #6 for me)! She was born on 7/12 at 12:20 p.m. Pacific time, was 20 inches long and weighed in at 7 pounds 4 ounces.<br /><br /><div align="center">Here is a pic of the new arrival (just minutes old) <br />in her birth day suit...</div><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/IMG_0975.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/IMG_0975.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center">A close up...</div><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Our_Caitlyn1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/Our_Caitlyn1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center">And another with the proud mama and papa (my son).</div><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/MomDad%26Caitlyn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/MomDad%26Caitlyn.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1151382031958762672006-06-26T20:56:00.000-07:002006-06-26T21:42:35.976-07:00Ironman Coeur d'Alene -- A Different PerspectiveI've just returned home from a busy weekend in Coeur d'Alene, cheering on the athletes as both a spectator and volunteer. Congratultions go out to all those athletes that participated, whether they finished or not. To quote John Bingham, yet again, <blockquote><em>The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.</em></blockquote> Yesterday, all those athletes had the courage to start. They attempted something great. Many of them succeeded in finishing. Some of them did not. But the point is they all toed the line on race day. They gave it their best shot and considering the conditions, it was a spectacular achievement.<br /><br />Speaking of conditions, they were brutal. The lake was cold (about 62°F). We heard stories of some people coming out of the water hypothermic. Others had problems with their stomach and were vomiting. Crowding was a constant problem and athletes were getting smacked, kicked, and clubbed; don't let anyone ever tell you triathlon isn't a contact sport...at least during the swim.<br /><br />If the cold of the lake didn't get to them, the heat on the bike did. While many could do the first loop with relatively few problems, by the time they finished the second loop, it was hotter-n-blazes and they were dropping out. If you look at some of the bike splits, you will notice they started out like gangbusters, but dropped that their average bike times dropped by as much as 2 or 3 mph on the second loop. And this was for strong cyclists (or those who may not have completely dialed in their nutrition/hydration needs).<br /><br /><em>Note to self: Keep working on the nutrition thing. You are going to need it at IMC if it gets as hot this year as it did last year (95°F).</em><br /><br />By the time everyone hit the run course, they were feeling a little the worse for wear. By 5:30, a good many of the athletes had been reduced to walking. Almost everyone posted at least slightly, and some significantly, slower run times. I don't yet know what the drop out rate was, but I'm sure it was substantial.<br /><br />I want to give a shout out to another blogger, <a href="http://ironm4n.blogspot.com/">Shelley</a>, for finishing her <strong>FIFTH </strong>Ironman. I kept promising to meet up with her in the women's changing tent during the afternoon, but we did not cross paths even though we were likely within a few feet of each other for at least few minutes when she came in off the bike. However, I did have an opportunity to meet her as I caught her on the run. Here is the picture I managed to snap of her.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/IMCdA_2006_Blogger_Shelley.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/IMCdA_2006_Blogger_Shelley.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />As promised in one of her posts, she was there to have fun and I think this little dance she did for me, not to mention the Canadian flags on her head, exemplifies that. Congratulations, Shelley! Ya done good, girlfriend. I know you will find your reasons, or they will be revealed to you, when the time is right.<br /><br />Many of my non-blogger friends/acquaintances/training buddies participated and deserve recognition: Carole (15:07:55); Mary (15:52:13); Iona (13:52:27); Julie (12:23:38); Patty (14:01:14); Diana (15:41:59). What is most significant about all of these women is they are ALL over 40! CONGRATULATIONS, ladies! You were AWESOME and I am proud of each and every one of you!<br /><br />Okay, I'll update more later, but that's going to be all for now.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1150865509621042272006-06-20T21:18:00.000-07:002006-06-22T07:18:34.253-07:00New Balance Half Ironman Race ReportI'm going to do my best to publish this race report in a timely manner. I tend to get a tad wordy, but if you've been reading my blog, you know that by now. That's my way of saying it might take me two weeks to get the damn thing up. *sigh*<br /><br /><strong>Pre-Race</strong><br />The alarm went off at 4:00. Kathryn, Cheryl, and I were all sharing a room and we had instructions from our coach, Stacia McInnes, to be at the TZ in advance of it opening at 5:30. Thankfully, our hotel was only 15 minutes away, but with three women in the room, we needed the extra time go through our respective morning routines, get our food into us, and get our bikes and gear loaded into the car.<br /><br />We arrived in plenty of time and had primo spots to get into the TZ. When they finally opened it up, I made a bee line for the next available end spot and took that. Kathryn and Cheryl racked their bikes next to mine. Later, I learned and saw for myself that Lori Bowden had racked her bike next to ours. Goodness, but even after a baby that woman is tiny! What amazing power she has packed into that little body.<br /><br />After getting my TZ set up I headed for the porta-potties. It's not that I had to go particularly badly and, if necessary, I could always pee in my wetsuit, but I was hoping to poop. Against my better judgement, I'd had a large meal of spaghetti the day before. That might work for other people, but it doesn't work for me. Carbo loading isn't something that's done the day before a race, it's done in the days (plural) before a race. There is a science to it and just eating a large dinner of carbohydrates the day before a race isn't it.<br /><br />Anyway, unsuccessful at relieving myself, I went back to the transition zone and donned my wetsuit. My suit must be too big for me, though, as I have almost no trouble ever getting in it. While other people struggle and wriggle, mine just slides on. I head for the water. The biggest mistake I can make before a race is not getting in the water a few minutes before the race start. I cannot just jump in and start swimming. I'm not that good. I need to get into the water, allow the water to seep into my suit, put my face in the coolness and generally just get used to being wet. I'm usually good to go after I take a few strokes, but feel the need to warm up first.<br /><br />While I'm doing all of that, the young men's wave (19-39) goes off. As I frolic in the water (which was MUCH calmer than the day before when there were whitecaps dancing about), I watch a small sea of green caps head for the first buoy. Once they were gone, the purple caps (all women, except relay) congregate at the start line. Now, I typically position myself towards the back and off to the side for a swim start. This year, I found myself in the middle, closer to the start, but I was not surrounded by bodies. I stood a good chance of maintaining my distance from everyone else and not getting smacked, punched, or otherwise beat up by the other women in my wave, so I stayed where I was. It was a good move.<br /><br />The gun goes off and we all begin. It doesn't take long and I notice, as I'm sighting on the boathouse half a kilometer away, that some of those women are really fast and are already far beyond me. But I settle into a rhythm, sighting every few strokes, and don't worry about anyone else except myself. On the swim, I simply must focus and remember to stroke, stroke, stroke, roll, and breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, look up, roll, and breathe. The water was calm enough I was actually able to bi-laterally breathe the entire swim. My goal for the swim was to get as far as I could before I was overtaken by the blue caps (men 40 and over) who would start 15 minutes after me. <br /><br />As I'm swimming along, I begin to notice that someone is getting perilously close to my space. There is plenty of open space to swim as I'm towards the back of the pack by now, and wonder why this person is getting so close. A few strokes later, I'm being touched, grabbed, and mauled, at which point, I respond with a push of my own. The mauling swimmer doesn't so much as break stroke and I notice her swimming off at an angle diagonal to me. I continue my 3 stroke count all the while keeping my eye out for her. Fortunately she is faster than me, but her sighting skills are deplorable. She swims a crazy zig-zag pattern along the entire course. She crosses in front of me again, but this time, is sufficiently ahead of me that she doesn't impede my progress. Someone needs to give her sighting lessons. She'd get out of the water a whole lot faster.<br /><br />As I approach the second of the turn buoys, it occurs to me I haven't seen a blue cap yet and I begin to wonder just where the hell they are. If I'm to get run over, it's usually by the men, but even they will make an adjustment if they touch you. They don't typically continue to plow over you like the zig-zag woman did. It dawns on me though, that I'm further into the swim course this year than the previous year. I see that as a good sign and keep on swimming, concentrating now on making sure my hips lift up to take advantage of the buoyancy of the suit and glide along. I notice a kyaker paddling near me and I want to shout out to him, <i>"Please tell me there are more purple caps behind me!"</i> You see, I used to be the last one out of the water and this is still a concern of mine, albeit an unfounded one.<br /><br />Pretty soon, as I approach the swim exit, I see one lonely green cap in the water. I feel pretty good about passing a green cap, but also feel bad for the green cap. It's almost not fair. He is evidently not much of a swimmer and it's hard to feel good about beating someone that swims that poorly. However, I don't know what his issues were; maybe he was just having an off day.<br /><br /><strong>T1</strong><br />I exit the water to the cheers of the crowd and do my best to run into the transition zone with out looking like a drunken sailor. It doesn't take long and I've got my wetsuit off. Kathryn's bike is gone, as is Lori Bowden's of course, but Cheryl is there still preparing to take off. As I'm getting my shoes and socks on, Cheryl leaves and I joke with one of the TZ officials about how comical we must all look hopping around on one leg trying to put dry socks on wet feet. She tells me they've all been there, done that. She's right of course, but not all the spectators have and were I one of them, I'd be laughing my ass off at the folks dancing around in circles on one leg trying to maintain their balance.<br /><br /><strong>Bike</strong><br />Okay, shoes, socks, gloves, race belt with number, and helmet on, I head for the mount line. One cleat on the pedal and off I go, swinging the other leg up over the back. Fortunately, the start of the bike is a slight downhill and as I finish clipping in, I get up to speed quickly.<br /><br />That doesn't last long as I approach the first of the hills. I switch gears quickly and continue to spin as best I can. Spin might be a bit of a misnomer. I continue to pedal, but I can't say I'm spinning. My RPM's are too slow for spinning. This goes on for quite some time. Up, down, up, down, changing gears frequently to take advantage of the downhill sections, or preparing for the up hill ones. This is a hilly course, and I would be changing gears a lot. I was in my aerobars quite a bit, even when going uphill. I just didn't think about my position until a guy passed me and yells at me to get out of my bars. He very nicely continued by saying, <em>"There's no advantage to it. Get out of the bars and open up your lungs."</em> He's right, of course, so I thank him. It isn't until later that I realized I was in my bars because I was comfortable there, not because I expected any kind of aerodynamic advantage. Nonetheless, whenever I approached a hill after that, I made sure to get out of my bars to allow my lungs room to expand with the increased effort.<br /><br />It wasn't too long after I left the transition zone that I passed Cheryl. And a few minutes later, I even pass Kathryn. While I'm pleased I passed them, I'm sure I'll slow down or they'll speed up and I'll see them later in the course. In what seems no time at all, I'm finally at the left turn that signifies the start of the loop section. We cover this same loop 3 times and there are a couple of longer climbs with some shorter steep sections along with some nice downhills, a couple of flat areas, usually with headwinds, and a few sharp right turns at the bottom of a downhill section. It is the hills and turns that make this a technically challenging course.<br /><br />This year, I was gratified to find myself flying along some of the downhill and flat sections easily doing 25 mph or more. Unfortunately, those sections didn't last very long before I was going uphill once again where my speed would drop dramatically. Not once, though, did I get out of the saddle. I've been training to climb hills in my saddle. I was not going to jump out now to power up a hill and burn up my quads. I was going to need them later for my run.<br /><br />One of the biggest problems I have on the bike is remembering to eat. My nutrition on this day consisted of two bottles of orange Gatorade Endurance formula laced with a full serving of Carbo-Pro. That meant about 350-400 calories a bottle. I don't think that's as much as my coach wanted, but it's what I had. Whenever I would see someone take a drink from their bottle, I would reach down and grab mine. I hadn't set my watch for any reminders as on this course, it was almost impossible to do. You had to grab your nutrition when you could because you were changing gears so often. I must have been doing okay in the nutrition/hydration department though as I actually had to stop at the aid station and pee on the first loop. <br /><br />Loop after loop, I reveled in passing people and being passed. I chatted it up when and where I could and just kept pedaling. I thanked the volunteers and officers as I went by or flew through the intersections. At one point, I saw one of the race photographers standing next to a large motorcycle. I suggested he and I trade bikes. He just chuckled. I took that as a no and kept on pedaling. <br /><br />As is common in these races, I would play leapfrog with certain individuals. Sometimes I'd drop them and sometimes they'd drop me. I must have really annoyed one gal as I passed her on a downhill telling her she could catch me on the next uphill. She did and I never saw her again. I kept on pedaling.<br /><br />I have to admit by the time the third loop came around, I'd slowed down some. It was while I was on this last loop that I saw a yellow bike with a woman on it speed by me. I noted the saddle was white. Ah-ha! <em><strong>THAT</strong></em>, my friends, was Lori Bowden. This was confirmed just a minute later as a cyclist came at me from the opposite direction yelling, <i>"That was Lori Bowden that just passed you!"</i> I shouted back, <i>"It was indeed!"</i> I felt no rancor at being passed. In fact, in a weird sort of way, I was even a little happy to be passed by such an icon of the sport.<br /><br />Thirty minutes or so later, I was thrilled when I came to the end of my third loop as this signified I was almost done with the bike part of the race. It was only a few minutes later and I was braking to approach the dismount line. As I got off my trusty steed one of the volunteers asked me if I could stand. I thought that odd, but realized there were probably many people that weren't used to riding that distance and would be unsteady. I smiled my assent and ran my bike into T2.<br /><br /><strong>T2</strong><br />I racked the bike, removed my bike shoes, slid on my running shoes, shucked the gloves off my hands, traded helmet for hat, snatched my Garmin off my bike, grabbed my running pouch, which was holding my run nutrition, and headed towards the run. As I did, Bill King (IMC announcer), made note of my progress. He announced to the crowd that I was heading out for the run, that I had previously done a half ironman in 7:39 and 7:37 last year, and that I looked to be on course for a personal best. I can't begin to tell you how exciting it was to hear those words as he was absolutely right and I knew it. I didn't know how fast I'd gone on the bike, but I knew I was faster than the previous year.<br /><br /><strong>Run</strong><br />The run started well and I was tryng to figure out how long I could hold out before I absolutely HAD to find a bush or if I could wait until I got to the washroom. Stacia said it was only 5 or 6 minutes down the trail, but her 5 or 6 minute jogs cover more distance than mine. I opted to wait as there were lots of folks still on the trail and I didn't wish to be too conspicuous heading off into the bushes in spite of seeing some man doing what I could not, basically, stand up and whiz away without getting his legs wet.<br /><br />While I was contemplating my need to pee, I also tried to figure out what I was going to do about nutrition on the run. Stacia had told me she would be taking in 5 gels during the run. This told me I needed about 500 calories during the run. I had several bags of Sharkies (140 calories per bag) and I'd dumped them all into my pouch before starting the race that morning. It seemed to me if I could just remember to keep feeding myself Sharkies, I would be okay. When I came upon the first red kilometer mark, I decided that would be a good time to take a few. From then on, at every kilometer, I would pop two or three into my mouth. When I would come upon an aid station, I would walk just long enough to grab a couple ounces of Gatorade and then I would start running again.<br /><br />Now the run course on this race is billed as flat, but that's not entirely true. While it may not have any long climbs, it is far from flat. There are several places where continuing to run at your regular pace is almost impossible due to the steepness of the terrain. However, all the hills are blessedly short, usually no more than a few steps. But when you are tired, each incline can <em>feel </em>mountainous. <br /><br />In addition to the varied terrain, the run is all on hard-packed trail around the lake which means you are running on a slightly softer surface than asphalt, but also dodging rocks, roots, and stumps. In spite of this, I managed to run the first 10 kilometers in about 1:10. Since my 10k PR on flat ground is around 60 minutes, I knew this boded well for me. So long as I could keep up the pace, I knew I could finish the run in about 2:20-2:25. I was thrilled with this idea as it would put me close to my super secret goal of coming in under 7 hours. Of course, that goal was super secret because I considered it to be a real stretch of my abilities and I didn't think I would come anywhere near it. But now that it almost seemed attainable, I was fired up and determined to keep running.<br /><br />I was doing well and maintaining my pace, though with all the trees, my Garmin faded in and out frequently and I wasn't sure exactly what my pace was. Sometimes it told me I was running a 10 minute pace while other times it told me I was running a 14 minute pace. All in all, I just tried to keep it steady and was doing so until I hit got to kilometer 15. That's when things started to fall apart for me on the run. I began to feel the need to go #2. <br /><br />Folks, during the middle of a race, when I'm about to set a truly awesome PR is not the time when I wanted to have to finally relieve myself of the previous nights dinner. I mean, why couldn't I have done it earlier in the day? Never mind that by now, several additional hours have passed and I've asked my body to carry me through some pretty strenuous activity, but couldn't this please wait a bit? I only had 3 miles to go!<br /><br />I slowed to a walk in the hopes my bowels would settle down. Every now and then I tried to run a bit, but I would once again be reduced to walking. The longer I walked, the harder it got to get running again. Pain started to manifest itself in my hips, buttocks, and thighs. I began to become fatigued. I was also getting pissed! I was watching one person after another pass me. These were people that I should have been ahead of and I knew it. I was faster than they were, but they were ahead of me on the trail.<br /><br />Eventually, I came to a section of the path and there was no one in front of me or behind me. The highway was on my right with a field of high grasses between me and it and dense bushes on my left. Unfortunately, I remembered seeing a sign that read something to the effect of, "Caution: field and forest contain ditches." A couple of steps confirmed that there was a fairly nasty ditch on either side of the trail. Obviously, I was not meant to tresspass. Doing so, would be at my own peril. So, I just looked longingly at the secluded spots and wished I had the nerve to just pull down my drawers and go right there in front of God and everyone else.<br /><br />I continued to walk for the next three kilometers. At every red kilometer sign, I continued to take in sharkies. I figured I still needed the calories. I would try to run for a bit, but it was getting more and more difficult. I finally came upon the last aid station on the loop and they asked if I wanted Gatorade or water. I shook my head no and said one word, <em>"Washroom."</em> They looked at me piteously and told me where to go. I was very glad to enter the stall.<br /><br />When I emerged from the washroom, my business done and greatly relieved, I noted the trail appeared to me more crowded with athletes. Now how and when did that happen? When I entered the washroom, there was no one in front of me or behind me and suddenly, there were half a dozen. I took my place on the trail and tried to run again, but the left over soreness from my previous forced walk reared it's ugly head and I once, again, went back to walking. I ruefully considered what this would mean to me at Ironman Canada. Would I end up walking 16 miles of the marathon? God, I hoped not.<br /><br />With only a kilometer left to go, I was passed by a woman with a "G" on her left calf. A "G" meant she was in the 50-54 age group. Hey! That's MY age group. Oh, no you don't! I am NOT going to let you pass me without a fight and I began running again. I did my absolute best to catch her and while I did gain ground, the finish line was upon us before I could and there I was, finishing strong, slightly out of breath, with Bill King announcing my name. Son of a gun. I finished another half ironman. That makes #3. (And no, as my friend <a href="http://www.slowfattriathlete.com">Jayne Williams </a>would say, two halfs do not make a full.)<br /><br /><strong>Post Race Analysis</strong><br />The numbers. It always comes down to the numbers. So here is a comparison of my performance for 2006 and 2005 for the same race, same course.<Table Border=2 BORDERCOLORLIGHT=navy BORDERCOLORDARK=navy><br /><TR><TD> </TD><TD><div align="center"><strong>Swim</strong></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><strong>T1</strong></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><strong>Bike</strong></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><strong>T2</strong></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><strong>Run</strong></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><strong>Overall</strong></div></TD></tr><br /><TR><TD><strong>2006</strong></TD><TD><div align="center">48:44</div></TD><TD><div align="center">3:12</div></TD><TD><div align="center">3:39:35</div></TD><TD><div align="center">2:34</div></TD><TD><div align="center">2:34:13</div></TD><TD><div align="center">7:08:16</div></TD></tr><br /><TR><TD><strong>2005</strong></TD><TD><div align="center"> 52:40</div></TD><TD><div align="center">3:07</div></TD><TD><div align="center">3:57:10</div></TD><TD><div align="center">4:13</div></TD><TD><div align="center">2:40:50</div></TD><TD><div align="center">7:37:59</div></TD></tr><br /><TR><TD><strong>Variance</strong></TD><TD><div align="center"><font color=green>-3:56</font></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><font color=red>+0:05</font></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><font color=green>-17:45</font></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><font color=green>-1:39</font></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><font color=green>-6:34</font></div></TD><TD><div align="center"><font color=green>-29:43</font></div></TD></tr><br /></table><br />So, there you have it. A PR is on the books for me. I improved my time over the previous year by almost a whopping 30 minutes! But now I'm greedy. I want to go back next year and take off another 30 minutes. I think with continuted consistent training over the winter, I can do that. Of course, I think losing another 20 pounds will help with that as well.<br /><br />So, any lessons learned? A couple. First, I believe my hydration was on track considering I had to pee once during the bike and twice while I was on the run (and I don't mean when I stopped for #2). Second, my nutrition during the bike/run was good, but I need to make sure I stick to MY eating schedule and not allow myself to be swayed by other people. I need to find just the right combination of foods and eating that will allow me to relieve myself BEFORE the race and not during it. Lastly, what I'm doing with my coach is working for me and I need to keep doing it.<br /><br />I'm now looking forward to IMC. Last year, I dreaded it. It's still not going to be easy, but I no longer fear it the way I did last year. This year, I know I'll be ready. <em><strong>Bring it on!</strong></em>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1150172969333216502006-06-12T20:23:00.000-07:002006-06-15T06:08:51.886-07:00More Cycling AdventuresOh, geez. I don't know how people work full time jobs, go to school, train for ironmans and ultras, and still have time to blog. I have a hard time keeping up with me, much less blogging and other bloggers. So, dear bloggers. It's not that I'm not thinking about you. I'm obviously just not as adept at managing my time and my other responsibilities as the rest of you seem to be.<br /><br />But that's really not the point of this post.<br /><br />I'm currently five days, and counting, away from my first "A" race of the season. To be honest, I've only got two triathlons on my calendar this year and both of them are "A" races: the New Balance Half Ironman and Ironman Canada. Of course, I add other races in as my schedule and training allows, but they are all done as training and not really as races (unless my coach tells me to go for it).<br /><br />Two weeks ago, I had my longest ride of the year, so far. I began by riding my usual <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Home2SouthPrairie.0.jpg">"flat" 15 miles</a>. Along the way, I finally realized, though I'd known it all along but forgot, that this day was the day of the <a href="http://www.rainiertoruston.com">Rainier to Ruston </a>relay. I had done this relay last year with my Y team members and I knew that they were doing it again this year. I was excited that I might get to see some of them and continued to make my way to South Prairie.<br /><br />Once I arrived, I chatted it up with several of the people standing around waiting for the first ultra-marathoners. They had started earlier than the rest and the first ones were expected around 9:37. Since I had arrived shortly before that, I hung around for a bit. However, by 9:45, they hadn't arrived yet, so I decided to hit the exchange point closer to the start and hope I didn't miss my friends. Unfortunately, I did miss <a href="http://runningfurther.blogspot.com/2006/06/rainier-to-ruston-509-mile-race-report.html">Rob</a>.<br /><br />To leave South Prairie and get to my next destination, I chose to climb the infamous Dog Hill. This time, I managed to climb it without getting into my granniest gear. In fact, I still had two gears left. I felt really good about that. Of course, my cadence was quite slow, but my legs weren't toast when I was done, so I saw that as a good sign.<br /><br />Speaking of signs, after I crested the hill and went over a few easy (when did they become easy?) rollers, I began seeing signs that said, "ROAD CLOSED AHEAD." I wasn't sure if that meant there was construction, water over the roadway, or something else going on. I kept pedaling, though, as I didn't see any detour signs, just the ominous "Road Closed" warning.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/slide1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/roadclosed.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Evenutally, the meaning and the reason became clear. With all the rain we had been having that week, there was a sizeable mudslide, complete with trees, rocks, mud, and debris completing covering both sides of the road. It wasn't impassable, so I dismounted my bike and walked it across the mud. There was too much debris in the way to ride it. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/slide1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/slide1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>In retrospect, I should have carried the bike, rather than roll it through the mud. Not only did ooey gooey mud get all over the tires, I then had issues with small stones getting wedged in the brakes and making themselves known on my tire rims. The sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Not pleasant. Not having any plain water, I resorted to using my Raspberry Crystal Light water to rinse my rims (sticky stuff). In addition, I have speedplay cleats and they do NOT take kindly to being walked through the mud. Getting clipped in for the rest of the day became a chore!<br /><br />Eventually I arrived in Wilkeson where Michelle's husband, Eric, was waiting for one of his teammates to come through the exchange point. We chatted for a bit and since none of the relay members had arrived yet, I hoped I might yet get to see <a href="http://www.ironayla.com">Darcy </a>and <a href="http://backofpack.blogspot.com/">Michelle</a>. (I later learned that Darcy had to withdraw due to a bad back.) After a few minutes, I decided it was best if I kept riding since that was my goal for the day. <br /><br />I hopped back on my bike and started riding towards the next exchange point. Along the way, I kept hoping that my friends weren't in one of the cars coming down the hill and that I would miss them. I also wondered who was running that leg. As I traveled, I offered up encouragement to all the runners I saw along the way. Many of them offered it back as they were obviously running downhill while I climbed uphill.<br /><br />It wasn't long and I was in Carbonado. I only got to spend a few minutes with them, but it was long enough to snap some pictures and hand out some hugs. I had to laugh as Sonya gave me a hug in greeting and stepped back commenting, <i>"Oooh! You're all sweaty!"</i> I'm quite certain she was all sweaty by the end of the day as well. Here is a pic of a few of the "Bustin' for Ruston" team gals. That's Michelle in the center with Sonya on (our) the left and Jenny on the right.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/bustin4rustongals.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/bustin4rustongals.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />When I detailed my plans for riding up to Greenwater and beyond, Darcy told me the pass had been opened, which meant there would be more traffic. As an alternative, i could keep going along the road I was on. It would continue to climb, but it wasn't an unbearable climb. It was simply steady grinding away. To avoid the traffic, I opted to keep going. It wasn't long before Margaret came down the path and was relieved by Jenny. Then the team was busy collecting their gear and themselves to head off to the next exchange point. I bid them good luck and farewell and continued up into the hills.<br /><br />The next stop was the bridge at Fairfax. This is what it looks like looking DOWN at the trees. I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure the trees are a good 150 feet below the bridge. All I can say for certain is, it's a <em>looooong </em>way down and makes my heart skip a beat!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/fallsfrombridge.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/fallsfrombridge.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Only wanting to stop long enough to collect pictures for the blog I can't seem to keep updated, I continued my climb into the foothills. It was a great day for riding. It wasn't raining, the sun wasn't too hot, and there wasn't a lot of traffic. There was one asshole along the way, however, that was annoyed because he had to wait about 10 seconds in order to pass me. I kid you not, this jerk made sure when he did pass that he got as close to me as he could without actually hitting me! Well, I don't take those kinds of things lightly and I let him know I thought he was number one in my book. Grrrrr....redneck dumb @%#$#@!!!<br /><br />Okay, so I got over my ire and kept pedaling. Before too long I came to the part of the river where I could snap the following shot.<br /> <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/mountain-stream.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/mountain-stream.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Not much past this point was the Carbon River Ranger Station. I stopped at the gate and asked if bicycles had to pay the $5 entry fee. Yup. I further inquired if they took debit cards. Nope. Alrighty then, this is where I turn around. At that point, one of the rangers informed me there was a slide a mile or so up the road that I wouldn't be able to get past, so it really wasn't worth my effort or my money. I thanked them and left.<br /><br />The trip DOWN the hills was a major blast. I got to go fast. VERY fast. The road was totally straight, but the curves weren't too dangerous so I could let go. For one of my miles, I actually averaged over 30 mph! WOOOOOHOOOOO!<br /><br />Well, all good things must come to an end and eventually, I found myself back in familar territory. By this time, I only had 5 hours of riding under my belt and my coach wanted me doing 8, so I decided to go tackle Mud Mountain Dam Road. Remember, this is a hill that climbs 500 feet in 2 miles with an average grade of five percent. Climbing that kind of hill when you've already been in the saddle for several hours is...well, tough. But I did it and I was darned proud of myself for doing it!<br /><br />After that, it was back down Mud Mountain. Still needing to add time to my ride, I rode into Enumclaw, then back to South Prairie by way of Buckley. I stopped briefly to use the facilities and headed back towards Orting and home. Except when I got to Orting, I still didn't have enough time in, so I went back to South Prairie. <br /><br />Now the route between Orting and South Prairie is one I travel frequently. One of the common sights along this part of the trail is the cow pasture you see below. There is really nothing quite like the smell of fresh manure on a early morning ride. Honest. It doesn't smell like "shit." It smells, well, like manure. It's different. Sure, sometimes it can be overpowering, but the other times it just smells like animals. Okay, I give up trying to explain. By now you already think I'm weird.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/typical-cow-pasture.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/typical-cow-pasture.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />A not so common sight, but not an unusual one along this portion of the trail, are the buffalo, who share a pasture with the birds below. That's right, the buffalo share space with emus. Now, that's odd.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/emu.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/emu.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Well, after my trip back to South Prairie, I knew all I needed to do now was head towards home. As I got closer and closer, I realized I had some serious miles under my belt. All I needed to do was go to the end of the trail and then head home and I'd have completed the full ironman bike distance in that day. Funny thing is that when I hit the turn off for my home, my bike went on automatic pilot and there I was. Home. Nine hours and 108.9 miles later. I missed the Ironman distance by a measly 3.1 miles. Ah, well, I have several more weeks of training in front of me. I'm pretty sure I'll be covering the distance soon enough.<br /><br />Of course, my day didn't end there. I had to do my transition run, too. Of course, I only had to do 15 minutes, but once I hit the point where I could turn round at 7-1/2 minutes, I felt good enough, that I kept running for another minute and a half. At 9 minutes I turned around and walked for 60 seconds. I figured it would take me longer to get back than it did to go out. Not today, it didn't. The entire round trip took me 18 minutes. I actually got faster on the way back in. <br /><br />Wow. Something in my training is working. Some of you think it is focus. Maybe it is. I think it's just focusing on being consistent and following through even on some days when I really don't want to. It appears to be paying off. We'll see, though as I have my first race in a few days. More on that later (and I'm hoping not a LOT later).PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1148996193394781522006-05-30T06:30:00.000-07:002006-06-12T20:22:52.010-07:00Capital City Half MarathonThis race is held in the capitol of our state, so I've never figured out why they spelled capital with an "A."<br /><br />No matter. <br /><br />This race followed my <a href="http://puddyrat.blogspot.com/2006/05/first-century-of-year.html">first century ride </a>of the year. Mind you, I didn't finish the ride, and subsequent transition run, until after 8:00 p.m. the night before. The half marathon started at 7:45 a.m. the next day. That's less than 12 hours of recovery between events. However, considering I'll have just a few minutes between events at Ironman Canada, this was probably not a bad thing.<br /><br />Okay, I'm going to post this now because if I don't I'll never get it up. Suffice it to say, this was a new course, with a fairly challenging hill between mile 9 and 10, which I walked and had no shame in doing so. The run downhill to the finish was great. During most the race, I'd occasionally trade places with these two young gals that were obviously friends. One had not had much training and the race was taking a lot out of her. By mile 10, I hooked up with her and encouraged her along. Doing so, helped me keep going. <br /><br />When we hit mile 12 and there was only a mile left to go, which was all downhill, I told her we were going to pick up the pace. We did so and flew the last mile, passing a couple of people that had passed us back at mile 11. It was a rather victorious feeling to cross the finish line in just under 2:30. Considering that my PR for a half marathon (Seattle) is 2:22 and change, doing this one in under 2:30 while preceding it the previous day by doing a century is fairly monumental. I have to wonder how I would have done had I been fresh and tapered? Maybe I can find out some other time.<br /><br />For that day, I was pleased. My cycling was progressing and so was my running. My endurance overall was getting better. All I have to do is keep it up until August.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1148742005502033352006-05-27T07:59:00.000-07:002006-05-28T21:59:25.946-07:00First Century of the YearMy first century of the year, coming a couple/three weeks later than I would have liked (interrupted by the <a href="http://puddyrat.blogspot.com/2006/04/whump-whump-whump.html">whump, whump</a>), was followed the next day by a half marathon.<br /><br />First, the century (yes, it's a long report, but so was the ride).<br /><br />My boss (James) is a great guy—he’s an avid cyclist, so he understands my compulsion and need to train. He does what he can to accommodate me without disrupting the group (I’m the receptionist at a smallish manufacturer, thus, when I’m gone my absence is sorely felt). Thus far, however, we had never ridden together. Typically, James rides with another of the employees (Ed) in our company. While James is a big guy, easily topping out at 6’4” (or more), Ed is several inches shorter and a good 50 pounds (or more) lighter. This means Ed climbs hills easily (having less mass to get up them) often dropping James along the way. James is a good-natured fellow, though, and takes it all in stride.<br /><br />Ed (who works as a forklift driver in our shipping department) often stops in to see James and they will iron out their plans for their weekend of riding. Normally, my schedule and theirs are at odds with each other and I’m not usually in a position where I can ask to ride with them. This last week was different though. They were riding on Saturday and would be starting later in the day. Their plan was to go up to Greenwater (small town in the mountains) and back. Given that I’m the receptionist, female, and slower, I wasn’t sure if James (and/or Ed) would be all that crazy about riding with me, but I asked if I could tag along anyway. In the end, we decided I would be the “rabbit.” I would start out ahead of them and they would “catch up.”<br /><br />I left my home around 10:45 a.m., which is a late start when you are going to be riding for 7 hours (coach wanted me doing 7:20 or more). Just as I started out, I saw a running buddy, Sonya, walking the trail. I barely said, “Hi, Sonya!” as I went flying past, but I was on a timetable and didn’t have time to stop. I felt bad that I couldn’t, but knew Sonya would understand later when I explained.<br /><br />Fifteen miles (or so) into the ride, I arrived at my first hill. I’d already climbed a couple hundred feet, but when it is spread out over 15 miles, it’s not like you really notice it except your speeds are a little slower than regular flat ground. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Home2SouthPrairie.0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/Home2SouthPrairie.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-size:80%;color:#083194;"><div align="center">First "Flat" Fifteen Miles</div></span><br />However, the Tubbs Road hill is more than just a slight incline. It has an average 5% grade for about a mile. James has nicknamed this hill, Dog Hill, because of the dogs that come chasing you just as you are preparing to crest the top and going at your slowest. Fortunately, today there were no dogs.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/TubbsHill.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/TubbsHill.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-size:80%;color:#083194;"><div align="center">Dog Hill</div></span><br />I encountered a few more rolling hills but nothing like Dog Hill. Soon, I found myself in the town of Buckley and I was close to being on my schedule. Mud Mountain Dam Road intersects with Highway 410 in two places, upper and lower. I would start at the lower end and go to the upper end. It was my hope to reach the upper end by 1:00, but that wasn’t going to happen. No matter, as I called James and let him know where I was. He quickly confirmed that Ed would be at his place shortly and the “hunt” would be on. With that knowledge, I wasted no time in getting moving again. After all, they weren’t going to be far behind me and they were stronger, faster cyclists.<br /><br />A few minutes later, I found myself on the lower end of Mud Mountain Dam Road. The first part of the road is relatively easy as it meanders through lovely farm land and horse pastures. The tough grade doesn’t come until later, and when it does, it can be gruesome. The hill on Mud Mountain Dam Road is a favorite of cyclists as it normally has little traffic, especially at this time of year, and is a steep climb, great for hill training. There are even a couple of stair steps which provide some respite from the climb. Once done, you have easily climbed 500 feet in the space of just under 2 miles. <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/MudMountain.2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/MudMountain.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-size:80%;color:#083194;"><div align="center">Mud Mountain Dam Road</div></span><br />I was pleased once I’d reached the top and didn’t feel too wiped out. I was slow by most standards, but I kept plugging along. In fact, as I approached the hill, another woman cyclist passed me; she climbed the hill with relative ease. I remember being a little envious of her ability, but reminded myself I was also probably 15-20 years older than she was and came into this game rather late in life. Given those conditions, I thought I was doing remarkably well to climb this hill without walking (or tipping over) at an average speed of about 4-5 MPH. As I climbed, I concentrated on trying to keep the pedal stroke even and the cadence as high as possible. I have a triple crank set up front with a 12/27 cassette on the back and I think my average cadence was somewhere around 65-70. Ah, well. Practice, practice, practice, yes? I will say one thing in my favor. I never got out of the saddle. Climbing out of the saddle requires power and power means energy. I was still very early into my ride with a long way to go. The last thing I wanted to do was waste energy trying to climb the hill faster if it meant I would tank later in the ride.<br /><br />At the top of Mud Mountain is a flat stretch of road before the hit the major highway. But, like the ride from my home to South Prairie, it is deceptive in that it isn’t really flat at all; it is ever so slightly uphill for the next mile. It’s just that after climbing Mud Mountain it seems very flat and is a welcome relief. <br /><br /><i><b>Addendum #1</b><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/mudmtdamtree.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/mudmtdamtree.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I found this great picture on <a href="http://www.google.com">Google </a>when I did a search for Mud Mountain Dam and wanted to share. It is an example of some of the trees that can be found in the park at Mud Mountain Dam. </i><br /><br />When I arrived at the upper end of Mud Mountain Dam Road and the highway, I figured it was a good time to take a break. I called my husband to let him know where I was and that I was in one piece and waiting on my cohorts. Eventually, I saw two riders headed my way. (Oh, and the gal that passed me on the way UP Mud Mountain? Never saw her again. She got WAY in front of me. Maybe one of these days that can be me.) As the riders approached, I hurried to finish what I use as a power bar. When they got close enough, it was evident it was NOT James and Ed. They turned west to go down the hill (fun ride!) towards Enumclaw while I would be turning east towards Greenwater. Not wishing to wait any longer, I started pedaling once again.<br /><br />Somewhere along the way, I had taken off my cycling jacket and stuffed it in it’s own pocket. But a couple miles into the ride on the highway, the skies got slightly darker, the wind seemed to pick up, and it got chillier. I pulled over, put it back on, and continued on my way.<br /><br />The views were spectacular along this piece of road. The only detraction was the clear-cutting that blighted the hillsides. Such is the price of progress, I guess. I work in an industry that relies heavily on paper. Without it, I wouldn’t have a job. I suppose I shouldn’t bemoan the destruction of forest land. After all, it is a renewable resource. It’s just that it ruins the scenery. <br /><br />The highway I was on ran parallel to the river that was formed as a result of mountain glacier and created the natural pass through the mountains. Given all the mild weather we’d had the previous week, the snows were melting rapidly leading to the swollen conditions of many of our rivers. This one, was no exception and it ran fast and furious down the mountainside, the water a slightly milky color from picking up dirt and debris as it tumbled along. <br /><br />Since this is a highway, there were cars speeding by me doing 50 or 60 mph. I had often used this pass to come home from eastern Washington, frequently preferring it to the more common Snoqualmie pass for both it’s scenic beauty and because it is a less traveled road. The views of Mt. Rainier on the other side of the pass are stunning. And while traffic on this day was light, I still needed to use caution. On my left side were the cars. On my right the ravine that led to the river. In between was the shoulder I was riding on that was littered with debris. As you might imagine, logging trucks come barreling down this stretch of road with their heavy loads and pieces of tree (primarily the bark) flies off. These pieces find their way onto the shoulder where I was riding and can make it hazardous. It isn’t bad, but I had to pay attention to as not to end up in either the road or the ravine. That’s my way of saying I didn’t try to take a picture of the countryside or the river to share with everyone. Besides, I was still trying to stay ahead of James and Ed. I thought it would be fun to hit Greenwater and be there waiting for them when they got there. Well, THAT didn’t happen.<br /><br /><i><b>Addendum #2</b><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/WhiteRiverbyMudMountain.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/WhiteRiverbyMudMountain.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />While I didn't take any pictures, some kind soul out cyberspace did and this is a fine example of the White River just above Mud Mountain Dam and the river to which the highway ran parallel.</i><br /><br />I was probably 5 or 6 miles out of Greenwater when I hear something/someone coming up behind me. Eventually, I see a rider to my left and there is James grinning from ear to ear. They had caught the rabbit. We exchanged hellos and he got in front of me. Ed came up along side me next and we did the same thing. By now James was no longer pulling me, but quite a ways in front. Ed took the lead and it didn’t take long before he joined James. At some point, they must have taken pity on me as they slowed down some while I tried to catch up, and we rode the rest of the way into Greenwater.<br /><br />Once we arrived, our first and only stop was the local store. James informed me their restroom was one of the nicest and cleanest around. I didn’t feel any need to use the facilities, so I simply went into the store for a bottle of Gatorade. I also bought some beef jerky. Sounds weird, I know, but I was craving the salt. I was feeling crusty from my exertion and I didn’t have any salt tablets with me (I couldn’t find them before I left home). I figured the salt in the beef jerky, in addition to the Gatorade would work for me. <br /><br />I’d also been experimenting, rather successfully so far, with a new (for me)carbohydrate replacement. I’m using a product called <a href="http://www.nvo.com/sportquestdir/products/skudetail.nhtml?uid=1000">Carbo-Pro</a>, which is a tasteless, colorless carbohydrate supplement. Two scoops of this stuff added to you favorite drink and you have an additional 244 calories and 56 grams of carbohydrate. Nothing else. No electrolytes, no protein, no vitamins. Pure carbohydrate. You can add it to any liquid, without changing the consistency of the original liquid, and I put a full serving (two scoops) into my Gatorade. I’d already added half a serving each to my two bottles of Propel (melon-flavored, my favorite). I also took the beef jerky out of it’s bag and put it into my jacket pocket for easy access. Then we were off again and on our way back the way we came.<br /><br />Now, just for a little perspective, you might note the total elevation change from where I started to where we turned around. I started my ride, some 44 miles earlier, at an elevation of less than 100 feet. I was now at over 1700 feet. That’s 1600 feet of climbing. Granted, that’s only an average two percent grade, but a two percent grade for 44 miles is one very long damn hill! No, it isn’t all uphill, there are downhills in between, but is always going uphill. The first big uphill you see is Dog Hill. The second is Mud Mountain.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Home2Greenwater.2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/Home2Greenwater.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-size:80%;color:#083194;"><div align="center">Beginning to Turn Around</div></span> <br />So, the trip back down promised to be faster than the one up. Initially, I was not disappointed. James started out by taking the lead. I fell in behind James and Ed followed me. We were soon whipping along at better than 20 mph. YEEEEHAAAAW!!! In spite of what seems to be my propensity for flatting and the inherent danger it proposes, I love going downhill fast. <br /><br />Pretty soon, Ed took over for James and James fell in behind me. Ed upped the intensity a little and we were flying along. Ed kept looking to make sure he hadn’t lost me, but I urged him on to go even faster. When I reviewed my files later on, we covered one of those miles at an average of 24.5 mph. I wish I had the power to go that fast on the flats for a sustained period of time, but for now it eludes me.<br /><br />After 4 or 5 miles of traveling at these increased speeds, we came to some small inclines. These very same inclines had been downhills for us on our way up the mountain, but were now uphills on our return trip. I was unable to maintain the pace set by Ed. As James was being polite, he was behind me. I told him to go on ahead and I would catch up on the next downhill. I’ll be darned, I never did. While it’s true we were headed downhill, there was enough uphill on the return trip that, when coupled with the headwind I was experiencing, prevented me from traveling any faster. There were times when I think I slowed to 10 or 12 mph. Rats.<br /><br />James and Ed got far enough in front of me that I could no longer see them. As I approached the cutoff for Mud Mountain I wondered if they had continued on down the main highway or if they turned off onto Mud Mountain. I decided if they weren’t waiting for me at the turn off that I would simply head on into the town of Enumclaw and make my way home from there. I knew the way and it was no big deal, but I had enjoyed the company while it lasted. No sooner had I made this decision than I saw them waiting for me where I had originally waited for them.<br /><br />I checked behind me for cars and seeing none coming, I moved into the lane of traffic. None were coming at me, either, which left me free to make the left hand turn onto Mud Mountain Dam Road. I kept pedaling and left James and Ed to catch up to me which they did with relative ease. This part was fun as we were able to easily ride three abreast and chat without worrying about traffic. A couple of times, Ed had to shout “CAR BACK” and we would all move over, otherwise it was fine.<br /><br />As we approached the major downhill section, I asked for advice. On my way up this hill, I’d noticed a few places where the road didn’t look like it was in the best of shape for a fast descent. James noted there were a couple of divots to look out for and there was a gravelly patch or two, but otherwise it was okay.<br /><br />I allowed James to get in front of me. I thought to follow his lead going down the hill. Mind you, this hill twists and turns. It is not a straight shot. For two miles, it turns first one way, then the other. Some of the corners can be rather blind. <br /><br />As James started careening down the hill, I took a quick glance at my cyclometer and noticed we were doing over 30 mph. I tried to follow James line down the hill which meant when he moved to the left to follow the apex of the curve, that’s what I did. I still found myself braking down the hill and I absolutely LOVE going downhill fast. But this hill scared me. Maybe in part because it isn’t a straight shot, maybe because I did notice some of the bad parts, and maybe just because I’m gun shy. Or in this case blow-out-flat-shy. When all was said and done, I topped out at almost 40 mph going down the hill. I believe the speed limit for the cars is around 25 mph. So much for obeying the speed limit.<br /><br />Eventually, we all finally arrived back in Buckley. As we started heading for the road that would take James and Ed back to James’ home, we came upon another cyclist. He had just stopped to possibly attend to some mechanical issue and had hopped back on his bike about the time we all showed up. James was still in the lead, so this other cyclist fell in behind James and I came next with Ed bringing up the rear. What was interesting about out last minute addition, though, was his size and relative age. To my knowledge, none of us yet know his name. We are guessing at his age. We have all seen him on the trail now and again and he usually has a friend with him, another riding buddy. We are guessing he is 12 or 13. Now, it isn’t unusual to see a 12 or 13 year old boy out riding his bike, but it is a bit unusual to see him riding a road bike and wearing spandex like the grown ups. Not only that, but he looks as though he is wearing team colors. And, he is scrawny enough that James said the rubber gripper in his shorts don’t cinch up properly around his thigh. While we laugh about this, we also admire him greatly as he is evidently a dream in the making. For all we know, this young boy is another Lance Armstrong in the making. Maybe one day, when we are older and grayer we can say, “We knew him when…”<br /><br />The rest of my ride was fairly uneventful. By the time I got to Dog Hill, I was alone and I flew down it anyway. Okay, I admit I hit the brakes around a couple of the curves, but this road has a good deal more traffic on it and I can’t just take up the whole road if I want to.<br /><br />It was a great ride and I proved to myself I could get up both Dog Hill and Mud Mountain in the same ride. I proved I could go 100 miles, early in the riding season. My nutrition plan seemed to be working. I wasn’t wiped out as I’d been on earlier rides. The introduction of the beef jerky didn’t upset my stomach. <br /><br />Once I arrived home, I quickly changed shoes and headed out for the 15 minute transition run my coach wanted me to do. I wasn’t thrilled with this idea, but I also know it is a crucial part of the training. If you don’t get used to making that transition during training, doing it while you are racing could be ones undoing.<br /><br />Finally, I was done and I felt good. What remained to be seen was how good would I feel the next morning when I got up and had to run a half marathon. But for now, I was content to take a shower, eat dinner, and head to bed!. Lights out!PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1147932921206034512006-05-17T22:56:00.000-07:002006-05-17T23:33:05.533-07:00INVASION!Well, it felt like an invasion. <br /><br />Wednesdays and Fridays are my swim/bike days. Usually, I do my swimming in the morning at the Y (where they have a wonderful 25 yard saline pool) and will ride in the afternoon. This morning, though, while I got up in time, I was simply not motivated to move quickly enough to get myself to the pool. Instead, I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather we have been having and ride my bike to work. <br /><br />I had a wonderful ride in. During lunch, I rode into town, grabbed my lunch from the Safeway, and rode back to work. After work, I rode home, after a little detour to add a couple miles to my ride.<br /><br />That meant I had to swim in the afternoon. I don't like swimming when the pool is crowded with children, so I decided to wait until 9:00 p.m. when I knew all the kids would be clearing out and only the adults were left. When I arrived, there were still a few children/families playing, but there was an open lane, which I took. Within a few minutres, all the kids and parents had left the area. The only people left were a few high school kids and a couple of serious swimmers (me and one other person). This is what I live for. A quiet pool with a lane to myself.<br /><br />A few minutes later, my solitude was soundly intruded upon. As I approached the end of the lane, I could tell there was someone on deck. I ignored them, did my flip turn and finished the lap. When I returned and got my feet solidly under me and my head out of the water, I saw several oriental men making their way to the kiddie pool. The kiddie pool? Well, whatever, so long as they stay out of my lane. <br /><br />Not 5 minutes later, a bunch of women showed up! At this point, they all proceeded to congregate in the main pool and they had no compunction about barging into lanes without so much as a by your leave. My Y pool had been invaded by a chinese tour group! And they were really annoying. I mean, one gal had on a swim suit that had sequins on it with a flouncy skirt. C'mon! SEQUINS??? On a bathing suit?<br /><br />Okay, so I reminded myself to take this as an opportunity to practice mental toughness and focusing skills. I managed the mental toughness in that I did my best to ignore them when they moved into my lane. I tried very hard not to be distracted by them sitting on the bottom of the pool and all the other antics that were going on. Eventually, I lost my concentration. I had no idea where I was in my workout. I no longer knew what set I was on, or even what repetition. I finally gave up and focused everything I had on doing a solid 500. <br /><br />When I was done, I was supposed to do 6x50 of kicking easy, but I'll be damned. One of them stole my board! I gave up. I got out of the water and approached the lifeguard. I asked her if they had changed the adult lap swim times. She said they had not, that the tour group was just as big a surprise to her. In fact, she went on, normally it was pretty quiet in the pool after 9 p.m.<br /><br />Well, maybe next time I won't skip out on mymorning swim. Lesson learned.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1147650845749248582006-05-14T16:46:00.000-07:002006-05-14T17:27:38.580-07:00Bike Riding ProgressSaturday (yesterday), I had the opportunity to actually do a bike ride with my coach. I wasn't alone. This was a group ride. There were about 20 of us of varying levels of fitness and experience. Some riders were faster than others, so they went on ahead. Those of us that were slower stayed closer together. Since Kathryn, Cheryl, my coach, and I were all going to be doing the New Balance Half Ironman together, my coach choose to spend most of her ride time with us. With all of us there, we would be making a day of it. A single loop was 55 miles, a double loop was 110. <br /><br />To say the loop is hilly is an understatement. After all, it IS an island and islands in the Pacific Northwest aren't known for their flatness. Below is the elevation profile for this particlar ride.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/WhidbeyIslandRide.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/WhidbeyIslandRide.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />What is significant about this ride, at least for me, was I didn't walk a single hill including the one they referred to as a "knee-popper." Knee popper. Terrific. One of my knees is already bad, and I don't (k)need (okay, bad, bad, pun) to make it worse. Even now, as I sit here and contemplate the 2-1/2 hour run I must still do today, said knee is not terribly happy (it's the one which had surgery a few months ago and also the one that slammed into the pavement during my little mishap a few weeks ago). Ah, well. It is what it is.<br /><br />All in all, I felt like my ride was a tremendous success. My coach indicated I had made some real progress in my cycling skills since she tested me last December. That was good news to hear. After all, I didn't walk any of the hills. Granted, I went up a few of them at a whopping 4.0 mph, but that was usually only at the steepest part. Some of the downhills were a real rush. I think I maxed at just over 40 mph on one of them. Going down another, I was hitting about 30 mph when a gusty crosswind caught me by surprise and almost blew me over. I'm glad I wasn't aero at that point as I had more control. <br /><br />There was another time when my coach and I were speeding down a road doing more than 30 mph and we slowed just enough to make a wide left turn. My coach was in front of me and I watched her back tire slide sideways on her. She recovered without falling, but seconds later, I was behind her. I'm happy to say, I had just enough time to slow my momentum down even further, but I still slid a bit, but not so much that I wasn't able to recover. So, twice, in the same day, I had more near catastrophes. I admit I'm just a wee bit skittish these days, but that doesn't seem to stop me from speeding down a hill at over 35 mph. More evidence, of course, as if doing an Ironman wasn't enough, that I should have my head examined.<br /><br />I'll try to post more pictures later so you can get a sense of the scenery I had to put up with on my ride, but for now, I've got to go do a long run.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1147017508603394212006-05-07T08:55:00.000-07:002006-05-07T09:52:55.530-07:00Arduous AprilWell, it was supposed to be arduous, but after my bike crash, it turned out a little less so. I had hoped to finish the equivalent of a quadruple ironman in April, but that little <a href="http://puddyrat.blogspot.com/2006/04/whump-whump-whump.html">flat tire </a>I had put a bit of a damper on things. I didn't even meet the goals for a triple (though I came close). Ending numbers look a little like this:<br /><Table Border=2 BORDERCOLORLIGHT=DARKBLUE BORDERCOLORDARK=DARKBLUE><TR><TD> </TD><TH><div align="center">Goals for April</div></TH><TH><div align="center">Total to date</div></TH><TH><div align="center">Total Hours</div></TH></TR><br /><TR><TH>Swim</TH><TD><div align="center">16800 y</div></TD><TD><div align="center">12100 y</div></td><TD><div align="center">5:40</div></td><br /><TR><TH>Bike</TH><TD><div align="center">448 m</div></TD><TD><div align="center">362.3 m</div></td><br /><TD><div align="center">25:17</div></td><TR><TH>Run</TH><TD><div align="center">104.8 m</div></TD><TD><div align="center">68.4 m</div></td><TD><div align="center">13:08</div></td></table><br />Basically, after I went down, I was down for the count for the rest of the week. I did manage to get on my bike for a whopping 3 mile ride two days later, but that was just to "get back in the saddle" as it were and to make sure the bike was okay.<br /><br />Funny story goes with that, though. Pat and I have the same brand and model of bike (<a href="http://www.kestrel-usa.com/index.php">Kestrel Talon</a>). Because I didn't have any spare tires around (I didn't just blow a tube, the whole tire blew out!), and since he isn't riding his bike, I, um, "borrowed" the front tire off his bike. Well, of course, his tires were flat, so I had to pump it up. After getting the inflator valve on the tire and pumping it up, I went to take it off and the damn thing sprang back and bit me on the hand giving me a blood blister. Damn! That was just adding insult to injury. So BOTH hands had owies on them. But I rode the bike anyway.<br /><br />A couple days later, I managed to ride the 4.5 miles in to work, then rode to town and back during lunch for another 6 miles (round trip), then rode 4.5 miles home. I got a total of 15 miles in that day and it felt good to do that, but the hip objected slightly.<br /><br />Speaking of hip, this is what it looked like a week after it slammed into the pavement (taken as a reflection in my bathroom mirror).<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Nasty_Bruise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/Nasty_Bruise.jpg" border="0" alt=""/></a><br />That is a full 6 inches in diameter. Honestly, though, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as what it looks like it should. There is still a lump, even as of this writing, that hasn't gone away. I've seen a doctor, though, and he says I'm doing okay, considering. <br /><br />However, for the last week in April, I admit to babying myself. Short jogs at work between the copy room and the phone would hurt, so running was out of the question. The abrasions on my hand and knee kept me out of the pool. Cycling was possible, but I was working some long hours (we are doing a software conversion at work), and between sitting on my bum (and on the bruise), for hours at a time, by the time <br />I would get home, I would be just too exhausted to think about doing anything else.<br /><br />Had I been able to get in the pool, I would easily have made my quad goal for the swim. Had I been able to finish my ride on Sunday, I would easily have made my quad goal for the bike (especially considering I had another 7 hour ride planned for the following weekend). The run would have been harder to predict, but I had a 3 hour run scheduled for the following weekend (the day after the 7 hour ride), not to mention my regular weekly runs, and believe I would have come in close to a quad on the run. <br /><br />But, given that I took a full week off in April for my injuries, I don't think I did all that badly. May won't have the same volume as April, simply because the way my schedule works out, I'll have two rest weeks in May and fewer weekends, but it will be no less intense as I'm preparing to peak for the <a href="http://www.island-multi-sports.com/Half%20Iron/index.htm">New Balance Half Ironman </a>in Victoria, B.C., in mid-June.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1146201155279949712006-04-27T22:05:00.000-07:002006-04-27T23:28:41.596-07:00National Arbor Day -- April 28Well, a couple weeks ago, while <a href="http://backofpack.blogspot.com/">Michelle </a>was still recovering from her surgery and limiting herself to walking, I had thought to join her. However, I was a little slow on the uptake that day and didn't get to the park before the gang all left. That meant I took off down the trail hoping to catch up to some of them. I had taken my camera with me and along the way, I stopped to take a few shots. Even though I eventually did meet up with the Y group, I continued to take pictures throughout the morning. My focus seemed to be on trees and nature. As April 28 (Friday) is National Arbor Day, I thought it fitting to post some of the shots I took, especially since I'm not currently swimming, cycling, or running after the <a href="http://puddyrat.blogspot.com/2006/04/whump-whump-whump.html">whump, whump, whump </a>beating I took the other day.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/OneMileTrail2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/OneMileTrail2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />First a quick look at the trail we Puyallup Y runners frequently run. This is about 3/4 of a mile from the main parking lot. Eagles or ospreys are sometimes seen on those two scrags in the middle of the picture.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/MossyTrailTree2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/MossyTrailTree2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Next, a little further along the trail, I spotted this tree. I have no idea what kind of tree it is, I was simply taken with the amount of moss on it. They say moss grows on the north side of a tree, but if that were so, then I was on the north pole because every side of this tree was covered in moss. I think all the moss simply indicates there is a lot of moisture in the area. <br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Twisted_Fallen_Tree2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/320/Twisted_Fallen_Tree2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Upon leaving the trail and the Y Runners that day, I headed home, but not before making a couple more stops. A few weeks ago, you'll remember I talked about a <a href="http://puddyrat.blogspot.com/2006/03/wild-and-windy-winter-weather.html">ferocious wind storm </a>that we had. It took out many trees, including, it would seem, this rugged hold out from days gone by. Not only is the tree now fallen, but its trunk was all twisted and gnarled, yet it continued to blossom. <br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/Abandoned_Farmhouse2.0.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/Abandoned_Farmhouse2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> Next up was this old abandonded farmhouse. Does this old house not make you wonder who lived there before and what their lives must have been like? My husband and I would dearly love this piece of property, but only if it came with the adjacent piece of property which is currently sporting a beaver pond. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/BeaverPond2.0.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/BeaverPond2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>The dam is difficult to make out now that the grass is green and growing, but they (the beavers) did a fine job of building it and this pond is bigger than I've seen in 5 years. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/AppleBlossom.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/AppleBlossom.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Of course, the property that Pat and I have isn't all that bad either. We have several fruit trees: italian plum, golden plum, cherry, apple, apricot, peach, and walnut. During the spring, the blossoms are beautiful. The blossoms above are apple and the ones below are cherry. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/SunLitCherryBlossoms2.1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/SunLitCherryBlossoms2.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Of course, no northwest garden would be complete without the requisite rhododendron. This is one of the beautiful early pink varieties. If you look closely, you will even be able to see the bugs infesting my pretty rhoddie!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/RhoddieBlossom.1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/200/RhoddieBlossom.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1145934371808196332006-04-24T19:51:00.000-07:002006-04-24T21:02:23.390-07:00Whump, whump, whump...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/1600/crash.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3553/1736/400/crash.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />...that's the sound your tire makes just before it decides to explode. At least that's what it sounded like to me. <br /><br />I had finished the 50 mile <a href="http://www.twbc.org/daffelevation.htm">Kapowsin </a>loop of the <a href="http://www.twbc.org/The%20Daffodil%20Classic.htm">Daffodil Classic</a> when, after some strawberry shortcake (one of the benefits of this particular ride), I decided I'd had enough of hills and poor, chip-sealed roads. I was tired, but I still wanted to get in my 100 that weekend so, instead of opting to do the 50 mile <a href="http://www.twbc.org/daffelevation.htm">Buckley </a>loop, which would drop me back down by my house, I decided to simply go up and down the trail. I would be closer to home and I wouldn't have to climb Tubbs hill (that first steep spike you see on the elevation profile for the Buckley route).<br /><br />It was on my way headed towards the opposite end of the trail, when I entered the intersection (that, coincidentally, leads to my place of employment), doing about 18 mph, when I heard the dreaded "whump, whump, whump." I hoped to get across before getting off my bike to investigate the sound, but almost before the thought could form entirely, the next thing I heard was <strong><big>POW</big></strong>. I found myself skidding to an abrupt halt with my bike on top of me, in the middle of the intersection. I had gone down. Hard. Very hard. Do you have any idea what it is like to go from 18 mph to zero in no time flat? Let me tell you, it hurts. A lot! And I know people had to have seen me go down, but nobody stopped. Why is that? Did they assume I was okay? <br /><br />Initially, I was stunned. I knew what had happened, but all I could do was lay there for a few seconds to collect myself. Different parts of my body wanted to spasm. I willed them to stop. I didn't have time for cramps just then. I did my best to untangle myself from my bike. The intersection I was in wasn't terribly busy, but I didn't want to take the chance that some yahoo would come careening off the highway at 50 mph and hit me.<br /><br />I gingerly tested my parts. Some woman was talking to me. She was on a bike. Some K-mart special by the looks of it. She had a kid with her. She was asking me if I was okay. I nodded my assent and got off the ground and picked up my bike. I carefully walked to the curb where she was. It was obvious I was shook up, but I had enough wherewithal to use my cell to phone home. Terrific. Answering machine. He says (my husband) that he checks it every hour. Hmmm...it's 4:05 p.m. Did he just check it? Will it be another hour before he checks it again? I'm feeling dizzy and need to sit down before I fall down. I plop myself on the curb. Now, I admit I wasn't really in the mood to keep riding that day, but having a blow out was not how I envisioned ending my ride.<br /><br />The woman, Jennifer (very nice lady), offers to give me a ride home. She only lives a half mile away. I agree and while she rides home, I phone home again to leave another message. Fortunately, hubby answers and I tell him what's happened and ask him to come get me. When Jennifer shows up in her SUV, I thank her profusely for her kindness and generosity, but that my husband will come get me. She smiles her understanding and drives away.<br /><br />Well, while I didn't hit my head (though some, like my husband, may still think I should have it examined), somehow my chin connected with the ground. Fortunately, for me, it would seem my (well padded) left hip took the brunt of the damage, along with my left hand and left knee, the very same knee that required surgery a few months ago. My right hand also took a couple of scrapes. I'd put pictures up, but they'd probably gross everyone out.<br /><br />So, there went my plans for completing the equivalent of four ironmans this month. I've already got three, I think, or at least very close to it. But, with these open wounds, I don't see myself getting in the pool in the next few days. Running may also be difficult because of my hip. In fact, my hip has me especially worried. Besides having a huge goose egg there, it has taken more than 24 hours for the bruise to start manifesting itself and I don't think it is anywhere close to being as dark as it's going to get. After all, what g-forces are in effect when soft tissue and bone hit something as solid as pavement at the speed I was going? <br /><br />Oh, and terrific. Now it seems my left shoulder may have been hurt as well. It's a good thing I've still got four months before my ironman.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17891223.post-1143729184448262372006-03-30T06:15:00.000-08:002006-04-02T09:15:36.886-07:00March Madness & MayhemWell, not really, but it was one of my busier training months, especially compared to previous months. Honestly, though, I'm just putting in all the swimming, cycling, and running demanded of me by my coach so that I may meet my goal of seeing the finish line at Ironman Canada in August. I'm also seriously hoping to meet her goal for me of finishing the <a href="http://www.island-multi-sports.com/Half%20Iron/index.htm">New Balance Half Ironman </a>in 7:15 or under. Last year, I was one of the last finishers with a time of around 7:39 (or so). I can tell you now, I won't be making up any of my time on the swim, but on the bike, as that is where I am spending most of my training time.<br /><br />You may or may not have noticed, I've started posting my monthly goals and progress on my sidebar. I belong to <a href="http://www.weightwatchers.com/index.aspx">WeightWatchers</a> and am part of their on-line community. In particular, I participate in an on-line forum called "Fitness Challenge." It was on this forum, back in 2002, that I found the support and encouragement I needed to pursue my athletic goals. No one laughed at me or thought I was silly for wanting to do a triathlon. In fact, the thread I started on that board, appropriately named "Tri-ers Day-of-the-Week" (as it is re-started every day), has been going on for almost 4 years now. During that time, many dozens of triathletes have come and gone, though there is a core few of us that are still there, <a href="http://www.ironayla.blogspot.com">IronAyla </a>included. Some of us even got together one year and did the <a href="http://www.chicagotriathlon.com/">Accenture Triathlon </a>in Chicago.<br /><br />My point is that one of our number, <a href="http://speedleopard.blogspot.com/">SpeedLeopard</a> (awesome young woman, go read her <a href="http://speedleopard.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_speedleopard_archive.html">story</a>), suggested we start an Ironman Fitness Challenge. Each month, we encourage others to complete the distance of an ironman triathlon. For many, this is a great motivator and gets them out the door and on their bike or in the pool in order to post their totals to the thread. For others, they are using it to add variety and cross-training to their regular routines. For some, doing the ironman distance is too much and they opt, instead, to do a half ironman distance. We aren't too picky on this as long as they are moving their bodies (getting some form of exercise as many were/are former couch potatoes). <br /><br />Well, because of my training, doing an ironman distance in a month doesn't present any particular challenge, so I started doubling and tripling the distances. In March, I chose to triple the distance. By the end of the month, my totals looked like this:<br /><Table Border=3 BORDERCOLORLIGHT=DARKBLUE BORDERCOLORDARK=DARKBLUE><br /><TR> <TD> </TD> <TH><div align="center">Goals for March</div></TH> <TH><div align="center">Total to date</div></TH> <TH><div align="center">Total Hours</div></TH></TR><br /><TR><TH>Swim</TH> <TD><div align="center">12600 y</div></TD> <TD><div align="center">18000 y</div></td> <TD><div align="center">8:41</div></td><br /><TR><TH>Bike</TH> <TD><div align="center">336 m</div></TD> <TD><div align="center">319.1 m</div></td> <TD><div align="center">21:34</div></td><br /><TR><TH>Run</TH> <TD><div align="center">72.6 m</div></TD> <TD><div align="center">62.7 m</div></td> <TD><div align="center">11:33</div></td><br /> </table><br />While I did fall short of my goals, I did so only barely. Now that April is upon us, and their are FIVE whole weekends in the month and, for me, April only holds ONE rest week, I'm opting to quadruple the distances. Even with my long runs, though, I'm thinking I may fall a little short in that department. My coach only has me running 3x a week, and two of those runs are typically very short, only 30-40 minutes each. I may start upping those to an hour as that was what I was used to doing before. She is probably concerned with over-taxing me and wants to make sure I can get my long runs, and especially my long rides, in on the weekends. Now that Daylight Saving (not Saving"s") time is here, I may start doing my long runs in the middle of the week, thus saving most of my energy for my long rides.<br /><br />So, that's it for the month of March. April should prove very interesting.PuddyRathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03453487420827796415noreply@blogger.com7