I hate running.

Yesterday, while out on a run I decided that I just hate running.  When I started triathlon training I thought that the running would grow on me, once I got over the shin splints, once I got into better shape, once I got better sneakers, once I got more used to it.  No, it didn’t happen, and I don’t anticipate it happening any time soon.  I just hate running and I’ve come to terms with that.  

Sometimes training just doesn’t go the way you planned……

Last Saturday I volunteered at the LLS water stop for a Century ride to Montauk.  I knew that it would cut into my training hours, but it was for the team so I decided to help.   I had it all planned out.  I would just move my Saturday training to Sunday and my Sunday training to Monday.  Monday is supposed to be a day off so it would even up in the end. 

Well, on Sunday I had planned to take my grandmother to church at 9:30 and do the workouts after that.  At about 8:30 my grandmother asked to go the noon mass.  I couldn’t say no.  So I figured that I would get a run in before, take a shower, go to church, come home and get a swim in.  After church my grandmother asked me to take her to the supermarket. 

Now I don’t know if you readers have an Italian grandmother, but if you do you will know how important food is.  On Sunday morning, before I took her anywhere, Napoleon’s Army could have showed up on her door step asking to be fed.  I guarantee that she would have had enough food in the house to feed them a seven course meal.  She would have apologized throughout the entire meal because it was so small and puny, and if she only knew that they were coming then she could have made a real supper.  Now, during this seven course meal, if the apocalypse should happen to occur, and the army was forced to bunker down in my grandmother’s house for several weeks, they would continue to be well fed, and would emerge from her home fatter than they arrived.  My grandmother, of course,  was convinced that her cupboards were bare.  How do I refuse a little 93 year old lady a trip to the supermarket?  I knew that it would take several (no I am not kidding) hours, but it meant so much to her.  I could get in a swim when we get home.

Who should we run into at the market?  my uncle and his posse.  They invited us to his house for a late afternoon party.  Well, what’s one missed workout?

I’ll wake up early Monday morning, get a run in, go to the doctor for my blood test, and go to the gym after that.  I’ll just have to miss the swim.  I woke up early all rearing to go and was just about to make a pre-workout breakfast when I realized that I am not supposed to eat before a blood test.  I won’t workout on an empty stomach, so I went back to the bed and waited for my doctor’s appointment.  I got up, got dressed, grabbed my packed gym bag, went to the doctor then straight to the gym.  When I got there I grabbed my workout top, put it on, reached in, grabbed another workout top and realized that I had no workout pants.  I got back into my street clothes and went shopping. 

Hopefully I’ll get back on tract today.  

First fundraiser of the fall season

As part of my fundraising for the fall season I decided to get together with a few of my friends and have a tag sale.  I really didn’t want to send out letters and emails asking people for money again.  You can only do that so many times without being a (insert adjective here).  So my friends Rob and Tracy agreed to host one with me.  We decided that we would each gather stuff and whatever each of us sold would go to our individual fundraising.  Tracy and I both posted “GOT JUNK?” messages on facebook.  I’m not sure if Rob did or not. 

I collected every old picture frame, unused Christmas gift, hardcover book etc. from my house, rampaged my best friend’s house, and left flyers in mailboxes in my Grandmother’s neighborhood.

Rob, Tracy and I all live in apartments so we decided that we would hold the sale at my Grandmother’s house.  She lives in the Hamptons and at the beginning of the season people are always looking for wine glasses, small furniture, etc. to get their house prepared for the summer. 

A couple of my grandmother’s neighbors called me and told me that they had items to donate.  I went to their houses and picked up some beautiful things that ultimately sold.  Another neighbor, Steve, the nicest guy in the world, had a garage sale a few weeks before and promised to bring over the things that didn’t sell.  For weeks I drove out to my grandmother’s house with a car full of tag sale goods and unload them in her garage.  My mother had some things sent there too.  We had to do this sale early in the season, because you couldn’t even move in her garage by the end of May. 

Tracy backed out early, citing a friend coming to town that weekend.  Rob’s mother died just a few days before the sale.  He clearly had more important things to do.  So I was on my own. 

The morning of the sale Steve showed up in a truck filled with boxes.  Behind that truck was a trailer filled to the top with more boxes, all for the sale.  I’ve never seen so much stuff.  I must say, Steve I love you, but there is a reason most of this stuff did not sell the first time.  It was all junk, mismatched coffee mugs, children’s toys that were missing pieces, etc.  I was all by myself and I spent the entire day Saturday just going through the boxes unpacking the items inside and displaying what was presentable for sale. 

Saturday sucked!  It rained off and on.  I kept dragging things into and out of the garage.  Some things never made it out of the garage at all, and I never even got some of the boxes open.  I had a bunch of customers though and made over $250.  Sunday was much nicer.  It was sunny, but I did not make that many sales.  I priced things really low just because I wanted to get them off of my grandmother’s driveway.  I made a little over $100 that day.

The problem was: What do I do with all of the leftover stuff on Sunday afternoon?  There was TONS of stuff.  I had no problem sorting through it and taking the better of it to the Southampton Animal Shelter Thrift Shop.  So by mid afternoon I started packing boxes to bring there.  I took two car loads there and was packing the third carload when my uncle came out of the house wanting to know what I was going to do with all of the leftover items.  He clearly was worried that I was going to put them back in the garage, though I assured him that I wasn’t.  He started asking me what he should pack.  I still wanted to take time to go through things.  He was very anxious and kept on asking and asking so I told him to pack everything. 

Maybe it was good and maybe it was bad.  I think that I would have rescued some of the items, I know one that I would have found a use for since, but would I have rescued too many?  There is something liberating about not going through the items, so when I threw a box away I didn’t have second thoughts.  I had no idea if that particular box had the purse that I liked, or the beautiful wall hanging that I loved but had no place for.  I filled up the car three more times and lugged the three car loads to…(for grounds that I may incriminate myself I will not disclose the exact locations the unwanted items ended up.) . 

Lots of lifting, carrying, sore muscles, and boredom, early mornings and late nights: all for less than $400.  I wonder if I should have enjoyed my weekend and just written The Leukemia Lymphoma Society a check for $400. 

At least my friends and family got to get rid of a bunch of stuff. 

lazy, lazy, lazy

I have become a lazy sloth since my triathlon, always planning to exercise, but rarely getting around to it.  It didn’t help that my iPod stopped working and I refuse to run, walk or bike without it.  (I know, I know!  It’s dangerous to bike with an iPod – but I WONT bike without it and I only use one ear bud.  I put it in my right ear, the one away from traffic.)  I’m convinced that I have another ear infection, so I won’t swim, and we have not gotten the training schedule for the fall triathlon season, so technically I am not in training and don’t have to exercise.  

Here We Go Again

If you had asked me at run mile four of the Knoxville (my first triathlon) if I would ever do this again I would have said "HELL NO!", but barely a week later here I am, signed up to do another one.

Why? You ask. For several reasons:

• I loved the training provided by TNT
• I loved doing training on my own. I know myself. If I wasn't signed up for another event I would just stop working out the day after my last event was over.
• I love the friends that I made as part of the TEAM
• I have become a mentor, to help guide new TEAMmates through their first TNT adventure
• There is still no cure for blood cancers

Please make a donation in support of my efforts with Team In Training and help advance the research for cures.

The Run

The MOMENT I got off of my bicycle I knew that I was in trouble.  My legs were CRAMPED, so cramped and so tight.  This has happened to me in the past (but never nearly this bad).  I was told that cramping is often due to a lack of hydration and/or critical nutrients.  Well, I did my best to prepare for this.  I had, on the bike, a Camel Back hydration system and two water bottles all filled with water PLUS tablets containing electrolytes etc. These tablets are made for endurance athletes and should have done the trick.  I drank it all.  I also had one or two GUs and some Power Bar gummies.  Other athletes will know what I mean by GUs and gummies.  If you don’t, just take my word for it, it’s what you are supposed to have – concentrated nutrition. 

Well, it didn’t do the job.  My legs HURT.  I took off my bike shoes and put the running shoes on.  Then I attempted to run.  I saw a TEAMmate just a few yards away from me and wanted to catch up with her.  I was very optimistic.  There was NO WAY I could run.  Maybe I just had to walk the kinks out.  I figured that I could walk the kinks out and then start running.  I HAD EXCRUCIATING PAIN WITH EACH AND EVERY STEP.  Each step was a brand new torture, but I didn’t consider stopping.  I did, however, consider crawling.  My only consolation was that my TEAMmate was walking in front of me not gaining any headway.  It felt good to know that wasn’t the only one walking.  

When I got to the first aid station I asked the volunteers how far I had gone.  They said a mile.  You would think that it would have felt like more than a mile to me, but for some reason it felt like less.  That gave me great hope.  If I could do this for one mile I could do it for six point two.  It wouldn't be fun, but I could do it.  At the station I had half a banana, Gatorade, a salt tablet and some bags of water.  You read me right.  They had these cool bags of water, about the size and shape of a soda can.  You just bite the corner of them and squeeze the water into your mouth, or over your head.  The cool part about them is that you can take them with you, unlike a paper cup of water.  Well nourished and hydrated, I tried running again, but I was just kidding myself. 

Soon after that we got off the road and onto a greenbelt trail.  I loved it.  It went through a park with fields, streams, and wild flowers.  What a pretty course!  The next aid station was manned by Team In Training.  I was so happy to see the purple.  I had some similar food and nutrition and picked up a purple grass skirt from a volunteer at the booth (I can only assume the relative of a TNT participant).  I wore the skirt and continued on my way. 

Another aid station, this one with an actual bathroom!  (a luxury for endurance athletes) It had running water, toilet paper and everything.  (It takes so little to please me.)  I just had to be careful of my purple skirt while in there.  Don’t worry.  I was.  More salt, more Gatorade and more water and I continued on my way. 

When we hit the three mile mark (or so) we had to turn around and go back the way that we came.  At that point I began to see some of my TEAMmates that were doing the Half Ironman.  We cheered each other on, they commented on my skirt, but we never stopped.  I was walking and they were running.  It was then that I noticed that my legs didn’t hurt as much anymore.  I attempted to run and nothing terrible happened.  I ran for a little bit but then decided that it was hot, I was tired, and my time was shot anyway so I should just walk and enjoy the day.

When I passed the TNT booth I returned my purple skirt, chatted a little with the volunteers and refueled.  Afterwards I felt plain and boring without my purple skirt so I picked a flower, put it in my hair, and continued on my way.   You should have seen the look of defeat of my coach when he asked me where I got the flower and I told him that I picked it.  I guess that he trained me to be a triathlete, but didn’t train me to be competitive. 

At this point my toes were beginning to hurt, not cramping, but blistering from rubbing the against my socks.  I swear I could feel every fiber in the weave of my socks.  This was not fun.  Trust me!  I’ve tried about six different brands of socks during my training and ended up throwing the others out.  These were the only ones that didn’t bunch up on me.  Next time I will coat my toes with Vaseline to avoid the friction. 

If the first mile of the run was short the last one was excruciatingly long.  I passed many, many, many volunteers handing out water and directing traffic.  I would like to thank them.  They cheered me on as if I was the only reason they were there that day.  I was hot and tired and my toes really burned.  Their cheerful attitude was a real pick-me up at that time.  That, and the promise of beer, kept me going.  We passed the transition area and had about a half (though some people said it was a full) mile to the finish line. 

On this stretch I passed other athletes, with their medal and finishers shirt, going in the opposite direction.  They had finished the race and were walking back to pick up their bikes.  They cheered me on as well.  Many of them told me to “finish strong” not knowing that I was not walking out of sheer exhaustion, but that I had been walking the entire way.  I passed my coach, went up to the World’s Fair Park, across the street and into the runway. (Is that what they call that final stretch of a race?) past the TNT booth, there’s Rich cheering me on, and to the finish line.  I heard my name and home town announced over the loud speakers just as crossed.  I stopped, posed for the camera and went to receive my medal!

The guy handing out the medals heard that I was from Northport, NY and had a dozen questions for me.  Was Northport on Long Island?  Do I know where Kew Gardens is?  Am I far from Valley Stream?  I just wanted to grab the medal and knock him down, but I got it eventually. 

I am finished.  Strange I don’t feel any different. 

Just minutes later I was congratulated by a couple of my TEAMmates.  They wanted to know how I felt.  I wanted to know where the beer was.  THERE WAS NO BEER!  I want my money back.

The Bike

T1 (also known as Transition 1)

When I got out of the water my legs hurt.  HURT.  Like the worst shin splints that I ever had, but I don’t think that they were shin splints, more like tight muscles or cramps.  They HURT!  The actual transition area was ¼ (though I seem to distinctly remember somebody saying ½) mile from the dock.  I waddled the whole way.  Other people ran. 

Taking off my swim gear and mounting the bike was relatively uneventful.  I was just really worried that my legs wouldn’t feel better for the bike ride and the run.  How on earth could I complete the triathlon when my legs feel this way?

Well, just a couple of minutes into the run my legs felt fine, great.  I felt great.  I was really looking forward to the ride.  I wasn’t nearly as intimidated by the mountains as before.  I guess because I knew that I wouldn’t be kicked out of the race if I didn’t climb them quickly, and also there was something about seeing them in real life that made them look just beautiful, not scary at all. 

We started the race in the city and I have to give credit to the Rev 3 race coordinators.  Until we got to the countryside they had every road closed, we even rode on a major highway with no other traffic.  Throughout the entire route there was a police vehicle and police officer at every corner. 

Here’s a shout out to the police officers.  They were stuck on a street corner on a very hot day looking at bicyclists pass them one after the other all daylong.  I was among the last of them.  You would think that they would have had it by then but they cheered me on with claps and words of encouragement the entire time.  I have no way of telling them, but it meant a lot to me. 

The only bad part of the bike portion was just before we left the city.  The road narrowed and steeply dipped beneath a railroad trestle.  It was not well paved and was VERY bumpy.  I not only had to navigate the large bumps, at a fast speed, on a narrow decline, but I also had to navigate around many rolling water bottles on that small strip of road.  I presume that the bottles were shaken out of their cages when the bicycles that they belonged to hit the bumps.   The worst hill was that same stretch on the way back to the city: short but steep. 

Once we got out of the city the course was BEAUTIFUL. We rode up and down the hills of the Smokey Mountains, passing farms, fields, flowers and trees.   I could smell honeysuckle the whole time.  I kept reminding myself to ignore the pain and just enjoy the scenery. I am still not a big fan of hills, but this ride made biking hills worth wile. 

At one point I was slowly ascending a steep hill when I noticed a police motorcycle behind me.  It was going pretty slowly for a motorcycle.  Then I noticed another.  They soon overtook me and it was clear that they were escorting a cyclist.  This was at a point in the race where the Olympic Distance course and the Half Ironman Distance course were merged together, the Half Ironman racers having gone much further than me at this point (duh!).  Well, the cyclist that they were escorting, I can only imagine to be the current leader, Cheered me on.  Imagine that.  Soon other cyclists from the longer race began to pass me in numbers.  They cheered me on too.  I wish that I could thank them. I seemed to get a little push each time.  I wish that I could thank them too. 

Into the city, off of the bike and into T2.