Watch out for Snakes!

On Thursday, I had the misfortune of encountering a snake while out on my bike ride over lunch. The problem was that I didn't see it until it was too late and I ended up riding over it. Yes it was alive. And no, I didn't kill it. But it kind of freaked me out for the rest of the afternoon.

It was towards the end of my ride and I was starting to get hot and hungry and guess I wasn't paying too much attention. But it's not like I always stare at the road straight in front of me. One has to look ahead as well. Anyhow, I realized that the stick was moving and was not actually a stick. I started to slam on my brakes, but then my overactive imagination got ahead of me and I thought that I was going fast enough that slamming on my brakes might actually send me over the handlebars, which would put me on top of the snake. It seems like a better idea to try and keep the bike in between us. This was a big ass snake. It was probably about 4 feet long and about twice as thick as a garden hose. It spanned across the entire bike line. So my options once I decided to not slam on the brakes were to go off road into the dirt and grass, possibly where there were many other snakes awaiting to attack. Or I could swerve into the road, and would have to be well into the lane since the snake was heading towards the center of the road. But this would possibly put in front of a car because I didn't have time to check behind me. Plus it would require me to look, which meant taking my eyes off of the snake, which meant that it might be in a different spot when I looked back. And yes, you can think of all of these options in a split second. And so all that was left was to go over. My first thought was to pull up my legs, but then realized (after starting) that I was still clipped in, so standing up and screaming seemed the next best thing. I had slowed down enough from my attempted effort of slamming on the brakes, so by the time I hit it, it hopefully wasn't such a big impact. There was a distinct bump (front wheel) followed by another distinct bump (back wheel) and then it was over. When I finally looked back, it seemed to be continuing on its way to the middle of the road where it would likely be hit by a car.

It was a bit traumatic. I kept my feet off of the floor for the rest of the afternoon.

96 miles, 96 degrees*

* Okay, so it was 95.93 miles and it was over 100 degrees by the time I finished, but it doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

The day began early. Very early. It's really hard to set the alarm for 6:15 on a weekend when it's not a race. But the temperatures were expected to reach over 100 and I had a long ride ahead of me. So it was either suffer early, or suffer late (at which point I'd probably be 30 miles from home). So the alarm went off and I snoozed. Fortunately I had factored that in. I finally dragged myself up, took the dogs out for a quick walk, and was on the rode by 7:10. I am not a great rider to begin with, but riding just out of bed is really not my thing. My legs just didn't feel as they had been, but that's what being tired does to you.

By 9am, I was almost at Carter Lake having just done the Wisconsin Rollers. Again. It does really suck that it's such a short section of road. My phone rang. I thought it was weird because everyone knew I had this really long ride and who the hell would otherwise be calling me so early on a weekend. I pulled over and got out my phone. Missed call from Adam (brother). Missed call from Rachel (sister-in-law). Missed call from Lavonne (stepmom). Shit! That feeling of dread hit my stomach like a brick. What the hell happened? And I'm 30+ miles from home. I listened to the first message from Adam, who sounded like my stomach felt. He didn't give me much information other than my dad needed emergency eye surgery and to call him. I won't say that it wasn't bad, because the whole situation did really suck, but I was imagining much worse. My dad has been dealing with eye issues for the last 5 months. He had just had his second surgery a few days beforehand, but I guess something went wrong. One of the options was to put a gas bubble in his eye (he had oil in it before). The problem with gas is that it has to stay at a certain pressure, which meant that he'd have to stay at the same altitude. The problem with that is that surgery was in Denver, elevation 5280 feet and my dad lives in Nederland, elevation 8000 feet. So of course he could stay with me or Adam, or both, if that was the better option. We got the logistics somewhat squared away, but surgery wasn't going to be until much later and so I was off again. Though not quite with the same oomph I was starting to get to before.

The rest of the ride went like this:
* Quick water stop at the bottom of the lake
* Up to the lake and over/around.
* Headed north towards Loveland into unchartered territories
* Started getting nervous about water supplies and not sure what was up ahead, so turned around a little early and headed back towards Carter.
* Did that awful little jog back to the water hose at the bottom of the lake. This was the second time on this painful stretch of road. At this point it was starting to get damn hot and I felt like I was frying.
* Not so quick refill this time.
* Back across the Wisconsin rollers
* Painful hot stretch towards 75th. I think I may have started hallucinating at this point.
* After what seemed like an eternity, I made it to Hygiene where I refilled and sat under the trees for at least 30 minutes. Only 20 miles to go.
* Stopped again at Tom Watson park, which is only like 8 miles away but I already felt like an almost dead man crawling through the desert. 12 miles to go.
* Slowly made my way over to Baseline.
* Even more slowly made the long climb up Baseline to 95th.
* Crossed the railroad tracks 1 mile from home and lost my water bottles. I wanted to cry and I stopped to go back and get them. I might need them for that last little stretch.
* Home sweet home.

After checking the current temperature (100.2), I promptly laid down on the living room floor directly under the ceiling fan and didn't move for 20 minutes. Forget the run I was supposed to do. Even if I had been able to, it just seemed like a really stupid idea to try and run in 100 degrees after having spent 6 hours frying on my bike. But being that I really couldn't get off of the floor, it wasn't much of an issue.

But I did it. I ran a very slow 13 miles the next morning (another morning setting the alarm before 7). My legs were a bit tired but I think I was way more exhausted from the heat. It just zapped everything from me. I'm not quite sure how I pulled it off, but I ended the weekend feeling a lot more prepared for IMMOO. Worse case scenario come Sept. 12...if it's 95 degrees on race day, I can get through it. It just might not be too pretty.

Boulder Peak Race Report

The last time I raced the Peak was in 2007. I was sick and it was anything but pretty. Getting up Olde Stage is hard enough. Getting up Olde Stage when you're sick and can't breathe is near impossible. On 36 leading up to the turn on Nelson, I ran into Adam, walking his bike because he had a flat and his CO2 cartridge failed. I gave him mine and then desperately hoped for a flat so I could quit with respect. It didn't happen and I staggered on to one of my worst Olympic finishes -  right up there with racing in 40 degrees and rain. I expected this year to be drastically different.

I actually felt pretty rested going into this race. At least more so than L2L. I switched out my gearing the weekend before and my final spin up Olde Stage a few days before was so much easier! Wow! 27s are AMAZING! Well, for Olde Stage that is.

I felt like I got to the Sprint insanely early, so I gave myself a little less time. Stupid mistake. Of course there are way more people at the Peak. I got stuck in the traffic line as soon as I turned off of Jay. And I wouldn't say it was moving quickly. Fortunately I've been really good this year about not panicking and I was surprisingly calm. After all, there are only so many ways to set up ones transition spot. I finally was ushered into a parking spot and made the long walk to transition. My body marker was awesome. After I told her my age, she said "I don't believe that for a minute" and made my day. She also happened to be the wave leader for my wave as we were lined up the beach and got everyone going with cheering.

A quick comment about numbering: why the hell to the men get the low numbers and the women get the high numbers? Let's think about this. Our arms are so much smaller, much less surface area, hence much less writing area. So doesn't it makes sense to give us the 3-digit numbers rather than trying to get 4-digit numbers and have it come down past your elbow. I just don't get it.

Anyhow, I got marked and picked up my timing chip, trying to avoid the Bossy Volunteer from last time, who literally does everything by the book. Fortunately she was yelling at someone else. I made my way through transition only to find the racks full. That's what happens when you're sitting in the traffic jam. I counted 7 bikes on one rack and noticed that people had their stuff spread out like a picnic blanket. Why on earth do people need that much room? Maybe this is why we end up with 4-digit numbers. I asked to squeeze in, which would require moving someone's stuff (unless they were really two people wide), and people actually balked. "Well, we don't really have room" and "I don't know who's stuff that is". I tried to explain that there were only 7 bikes racked and there should be room for 8 and the whole time I was in shock that people were making such a fuss. I always seen people be exceptionally nice at these moments, sometimes offering a spot before even being asked. I mean, it's not like it was the end rack. So I just moved on and found a rack with fewer bikes. And nicer people. At this point I probably had about 5 minutes to set up before they closed transition. When I was heading over to my rack, I ran into Adam who was waiting in line for the bathrooms. Him: "Did you just get here?" Me: "Uh, yeah" Him: "What happened?" Me: "Traffic". Mental note: arrive early for 70.3.

Fortunately I didn't need much time to set up and for once I didn't need to use the bathroom. I'm really not sure how I managed that but I'd like to try and work this into my regular pre-race routine, because the last thing I need is to be gagging after I've struggled so hard to force food into my body.

I headed down to the beach and waited for my start.

I was a little disappointed to learn that it would be the same clockwise swim as the sprint. I can handle the sprint because it's short, but the longer distances, I prefer counter clockwise due to me breathing on my left. Another strike against Ironman. When we entered the water, I went to the front line since no one else was. The problem was that I again chose the outside, which is fine if it's counter clockwise because then I can see where I need to be and can eventually start to cut in. Doesn't work so well the other way. The gun went off and I started swimming wide. I zigged and zagged because I couldn't stay straight, but at least I was making forward progress. All of a sudden I slammed into something. It was a very large man from several waves ahead of me at a near dead stop in the water. He had to be treading water because his body was vertical, hence me slamming into to. But my first thought was that I had swam into a manatee. Brains are weird.

Fortunately Ironman decided to explain the swim course after the race started and we were not to do a 90 degree turn at the far buoy. The swim course was shaped like a house (square with a triangle on top). I got to the top of the triangle and started back to shore. Unfortunately, I somehow ended up heading towards the buoy I had just come from. And even more unfortunately, the kayakers decided to let me almost reach this wrong buoy before stopping me to tell me I was going the wrong way and needed to go waaaayyy over there. Thanks. And no, I was not by myself. There were quite a few of us that made this detour. Well, there goes my swim. I finally made it back to shore and didn't have any run-ins with things sticking into my feet like at the Stroke n'Stride a few days before.

Fortunately someone had pointed out a star-shaped balloon on the rack before mine, so I didn't have too much trouble finding my bike (you'd think having a yellow and orange bike would be sufficient, but it's amazing how it blends in). And off to the ride.

I didn't feel quite as good on the bike as I was hoping to. During the sprint, by the time I got to Jay, I was ready to fly. This time around, by the time I got to Jay, I was ready to turn around. It doesn't help knowing that Olde Stage is looming ahead. I pushed the thought out of mine and just continued forward. At least the hill is at the beginning. The climb felt a lot harder than a few days before, of course, I hadn't been swimming or riding hard going into it. But at least I had my faithful 27. I got to the steep part and saw Mike the Devil, who came running over and proceeded to run with me for a bit. That helped except when he asked how I was feeling and I could barely breathe to respond. I think I told him to ask me again when I got to the top. I wouldn't say the top came before I knew it, but I did eventually reach it and started the long descent. I actually got cold on the ride down but that didn't last long. I played leap frog with a few women on the rollers on 63rd - I catch them on the hills and they catch me on the flats. The one downside of the 27 meant I lost the 11. I felt like I was struggling at times but overall felt like I was doing much better than previous years. I got passed by Adam right before the turn back onto Jay and was pretty psyched that it took him that long to catch up. After that it's just that one last hill and then back into transition.

T2 was equally uneventful thanks to the star balloon. I did a quick shoe swap, grabbed my hat, and was off.

I had a side cramp immediately. I don't even think I made it out of transition before it set in. I told myself to just run through it and it would eventually go away. The cramp thought otherwise. It was so insanely painful - I don't think I've ever had a cramp like this before. It hurt to touch my skin. My run slowed to a shuffle and I tried not to breathe. At one point I actually stopped running to see if the pain would immediately subside. It didn't, so I started running again - I mean if it's going to hurt regardless, might as well run. The most comfortable position I could find involved pushing my stomach out. But it's really hard to run and do that at the same time. The two are sort of opposing forces. The cramp finally subsided shortly after mile 2, at which point I was finally able to run like I wanted to. I had a great run at the Stroke n'Stride a few days before and had been hoping for similar. Unfortunately the cramp put a damper on that for 2 miles, but I was able to really pick up the pace after that. My goal was 2:50. I rounded the corner to the finish and saw the clock at 3:10 and change (I started 20 minutes after the start). I had to smile. It was still in the 2:50 minute, so I'd say it counted. Either way, I still PR'd by 6 minutes even with a swim detour and a cramp. I'll take it.

swim: 29:11
t1: 1:55
bike: 1:25:33 (18.3 mph)
t2: 1:13
run: 52:54 (8:32 pace)
total: 2:50:44

age group: 28/105
females: 114/541
overall: 524/1347

And I have to say that Ironman is starting to get it together a bit more. Of course, I went to packet pickup on Friday and avoided the rush, but there were way more volunteers working and the layout made a lot more sense. And although we got the same hideous race bag, at least the t-shirts were technical this time.

Stroke n' Stride #6

First Stroke n' Stride of the season. I did it more to support a friend and to get in another open water swim before the Peak. And despite some slight mishaps*, it went pretty well. I believe the swim was long, so I believe I am happy with my swim results. My transition was slower than molasses as I was checking in on said friend who was not staying for the run. But I was happy with this as well - it made me feel a lot calmer to be able to chat with friends and took some of the pressure off of myself. I was very happy (and surprised) with my run. It's amazing what rest and an easy week can do...

*slight mishaps:
- Too many jellybeans on the drive over to the Res
- I left my goggles and swimcap in the car and didn't realize it until about 5 minutes before the start of the race.
- Ditto for picking up my timing chip
- During the run over to both the car and the booth, the jellybeans took their revenge. I immediately felt insanely full and about to throw up. This made for a very uncomfortable run between swim laps and an even more uncomfortable run.
- I stepped on a sticker of sorts as I stood up to exit the water. It is a bad idea to try and balance on one leg to examine the opposite foot immediately after swimming a 1500. It is an even worse idea to try and do this while still in the water.
- There is such a thing as too many jelly beans, despite what Ronald Reagan may have said.

swim lap 1: 14:39 (yikes!)
swim lap 2: 16.22 (even more yikes!)
T: 2:06 (I definitely dawdled)
run: 23.58 (7:44 pace)

total: 57:04

age group: 2/7 (kind of funny after my last posting)
females: 13/41
overall: 39/103

Afterthoughts...Appreciation

So after wavering for some time between being okay and being not okay with my L2L results, I started thinking about why I wasn't okay with them. I mean, considering the circumstances, it was a really good race. I should rephrase - considering my circumstances, it was a really good race. Because let's face it. Many people go into races with their own circumstances. And I'm sure some do much better than me and some do much worse. But maybe they're okay with the results.

Last weekend, as I was heading into the final stretch of the run before heading back into the park, a man was pretty much just starting his run. He was pushing a stroller, with whom I'm assuming was his son. It was very much in the spirit of Team Hoyt, who are nothing less than inspiring. Talk about selflessness. These men are doing these races entirely for someone else. Sure, they get something out of it was well I'm sure. But they are giving up speed and winning for something so much bigger. It reminded me of Vineman two years ago. I was way at the back of the pack, sick and feeling sorry for myself. A wheelchair athlete passed us going the other direction (heading towards the finish). As he passed us, he yelled something along the lines of "You guys are my heros!". That sort of killed the feeling sorry for myself - I had absolutely no right to do so.

So why do I keep letting this happen? Not to be pessimistic, but I'm not going to be winning my age group any time soon. It's Boulder after all. And at one point I thought I might have a chance when I'm 70, but then I realized that I'd still be racing against the same people. I think I've accepted this, but where I'm struggling is the happy medium between not winning, but still doing better. My biggest competitor is myself. At what point is being better good enough? If I'm one second faster, that should be sufficient because I'm faster. It's important to have goals, but it's also important to have fun.

So, I should be happy with being 15th (the Sprint), or 10th (L2L) in my age group. And now that I've had some time to think about it, I am. I'm a lot closer to the top than I am to the bottom and that definitely counts for something.