Expertise

I was recently reading a blogger's musings about expertise in triathlon, and it got me thinking about training and how I can master this swimming fiasco, and avoidance of swimming is not the answer.  A recent article highlights the importance of practice in becoming an expert, for example, "More generally, the accumulated amount of deliberate practice is closely related to the attained level of performance of many types of experts, such as musicians (Ericsson et al., 1993; Sloboda, et al., 1996), chessplayers (Charness, Krampe & Mayr, 1996) and athletes (Starkes et al., 1996)."  Moreover, consistency in practice really matters, as highlighted in this CNN article:  "Consistency is crucial. As Ericsson notes, 'Elite performers in many diverse domains have been found to practice, on the average, roughly the same amount every day, including weekends.'"  Also, there are a number of hours involved, like, 3000-10000 in order to master a skill.  Well, slacker, what are you going to do about this?

Friday Fun

After I had been training for tris for a few months, I saw this post and vowed to myself that I would read it again when I had been training for a while.  Oh, how true much of it rings!  Enjoy!

So you wanna be a Triathlete?

by clarkendurance on August 22, 2011 in General

Tags: triathlete, Bike, run, swim, Clark Endurance, Nick Clark

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Fact: you will not become efficient at swimming, biking or running over night. Sorry to burst your bubble. This is NOT an easy sport.

Check your ego at the door because chances are someone fifty pounds heavier than you will lap you in the pool. Not to mention she will be ten or fifteen years older than you.

You will be passed on the bike many times and you will never be the fastest runner in your town.
You will have early morning workouts. Really early.
You will plan your weekends around your swim, bike and run.
You are up while others are sleeping.
You are training while others are sitting.
You will discover others who also follow this blood, sweat and tears cult.
You will eventually get a flat tire... and have to change it all by yourself.
No matter what you hear, triathlon is NOT an inexpensive sport.
Warning, it is extremely addictive, hence the impulse spending on wetsuits, bikes, running shoes, aero bars, aero helmets, speed suits, power meters, GPS heart-rate monitors and many other ‘gotta have items.’
You will hate swimming more times than you like it for the first year.
You will suffer through road trips with whiny fellow triathletes.
You will suffer set backs.
You may experience an injury.
You will develop a love/hate relationship with a foam roller and ice baths.
You will at some point realize you need a coach.
You will hate swimming for the first year.
You will wear tight clothing.
You will not like how this tight clothing fits or looks.
Your age will take on a whole new meaning.
You will discover a whole new meaning for tan lines.
Food will become an extremely important part of your life.
You will learn new words such as GU, cadence and brick.
You will hate swimming for the first year.
You will spend more time on your bike than on your couch.
You may lose a friend or two because you spend too much time swimming, biking and running, and they could careless about your heart rate training, foam rolling pain or 20 mile bike ride.
You will learn patience.
You will be humbled.
You will start to realize you are paying money to put yourself through pain and suffering, but for some odd reason, you LOVE it.

This sport called Triathlon, becomes a part of you. You start to plan your entire year around sprint, international, half-iron or full-iron distance races. Your vacations become racing, and you start to realize that this sport called triathlon could become a life-long adventure.
Many people settle for things in life. They settle for a crappy job, marriage, friends, food, place to live and overall fitness and health.

Those who desire more or those who want more out of life than a drive-thru window and boring sitcom, will choose triathlon or an activity that makes them happy. An activity that will change their life. Triathlon will change your outlook on life, your career, your marriage, your goals, your friends and many other things you thought you had figured out. It’s not just crossing a finish line or a boring finisher medal. It’s the countless hours that got you to that point. A moment in time that you will NEVER forget. A moment that you will discuss with your family and friends for hours if not days after the event. These discussions will most likely be about how you could have done better. At what point could you have swam faster, biked harder or ran more efficient? This is what will go through your head everyday until you get the opportunity to suffer again.

So you wanna be a Triathlete? Enjoy the ride and train hard!

Two Weeks

Apparently, that is how long it takes me to recover from a simultaneously wonderful and terrible HIM.  Two weeks.  I ran hills in the hood Tuesday, sort of slow, biked hills yesterday, sort of slow, and then took off for a 4-mile tempo run this morning, feeling good!  I ran 4.0 miles in 46:31, average 11:38-minute miles...yay!  Although it was at lower elevation, it was not flat.  And I wore my HIM stuff, which gets stares, like, "Did she really...nah.  I bet she stole it."

So, now I am starting to think seriously about my docket for the summer.  I know I want to do a sprint or two,  an oly, and maybe a half-marathon, but I'm not sure about another HIM this summer...it is a lot of training, and I have to support the hubby on his quest for IM glory.  But it would be good for me to have a lofty goal to keep me honest.  I have a hard time committing to training just for the sake of training, but give me something that scares me, and I am motivated!  Self-discipline has never been a strong suit of mine.  I really do admire it in others, and have even aspired to improve mine, but alas, flying by the seat of my pants is my default.  Left to my own devices, I can be my own worst enemy...procrastinating, skipping, shortcuts.  But if I feel enough anxiety about something, that changes.  Dramatically.  Hence, a scary-ish race.  Decisions, decisions...

Swim, Bike, Rest, Decide

Yesterday, I MADE myself go to the gym after clinic, which ended early (hooray!).  I swam 1000 meters, very slowly (30:40), just not able to swim a 50 in under 1:18.  My breaststroke 50 was 1:30, so you know my freestyle was slow!  I then got on the bike and just spun easily for a while, and after I was warmed up, I decided I could push a little and did some hill climbs, 1 minute standing and 1 minute sitting, with 2 minute recovery.  I felt pretty good, except the top of my knee, just above my kneecap in the center, which hurt a little.  Hmmm.  I rolled my legs out last night, and boy, is my hip sore!!!  I am trying to decide on my next race, feeling a little unsure about what I want to do, exactly.  Maybe Payson?  Probably Mountain Man Sprint.  Likely an Oly in late summer/early fall.  Should I try another half before I commit to IMAZ 2013?  So many decisions.

Post HIM Run

Today marks 11 days since my first HIM, so I decided it was time to go for a run.  I picked a somewhat hilly 2-mile loop.  It kicked my butt.  I felt pretty exhausted toward the end.  I wonder how much time it really takes to recover...

RR Ironman Oceanside 70.3, 03/31/12

The sea was angry that day, my friends…

If you’ve read any of the previous posts, you’re likely familiar with my trepidation going into this race.  I was feeling underprepared related to illness and injury, and just flat-out scared about the swim.  I was ready to go the night before, and amazingly, I had not forgotten ANYTHING!!!  We went to bed early-ish, and thankfully, the Best People in the World (BPW, a.k.a., dear friends B and R) offered to wake and bring the kids so Will could take me to the race early.  I awoke at 1am and had trouble getting back to sleep.  Will said he woke up at 3 am, and I was sleeping, so I guess I did go back to sleep…

 

Kids ready to roll!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The alarm went off at 4-ish, and I started feeling nervous.  I am the type of person who gets sick on the first snowboarding trip of the season, even though I’ve been snowboarding for 15 years, so you can imagine the type of sick this race was eliciting.  Luckily, I had packed Immodium.  Unfortunately, it takes a while to kick in.  Eventually, we packed up and headed out.

This race had two separate transition areas, and we were allowed to drop our running gear at T2 on Friday afternoon, which I opted to do.  After dropping my stuff, we went to IM Village and our kids and the BPW’s kiddo raced in the Ironkids’ 1 mile run.  Very fun!   

Number 1 finishes!

Number 1 finishes, too!

 The suggestion for race morning was to get dropped off at T2 to set up your gear, and then ride with your bike gear plastic bag, wetsuit, and morning clothes plastic bag to T1.  1.25 miles.  At 5am.  I didn’t think this sounded safe; Will and I decided instead that he would get as close as he could to T2 and I would walk my bike and gear to T1.  We were not alone.  SO many triathletes!  Some riding, some walking.  It was crazy.  I learned later some woman had been seriously injured riding from T2 to T1 when her wetsuit got caught in her front wheel and she endoed onto the pavement.

Got to T1 safely and learned that I was on a rack with all the other 40-44 women!  Everyone was very nice, very helpful, zipping, answering questions, etc.  It was a nice distraction, and I was feeling a little better.  Will made it over, and I actually felt like I was ready…for a few minutes.  I did overhear a very large woman say, “I’m expecting to finish the swim in 50 minutes…so embarrassing.”  I felt like I would be excited to finish in 50 minutes, but whatever.

Swim:

Wave start!  Prior to queuing up with our wave, I watched the pros start and saw something black in the water.  I should mention at this point that I saw Jaws when I was 7 years old.  For years, I had troubles with open water, including fresh water, for fear that something would bite me.  So, to see something black in the water I would soon be swimming in was a little unnerving.  It turns out it was a seal!  How cool is that?  I did not see any seals while swimming, but Will said they were there with us!  I lined up just in time to see Andy Potts and the other pros run by us out of the swim.  We made our way to the boat ramp, and I felt the water…58 degrees was chilly!  And I had left my neoprene cap and booties in the hotel room…boo!  They announced our wave and we all got in.  My breath was promptly knocked out of me.  I tried to put my face under, let the cold water into my wetsuit, put my face under again, but I started to feel that same sort of shallow, tight breathing and panicky feeling I had experienced at Lake Powell in October.  I laid on my back, tried to relax.  I was on the outside and toward the back, FREAKING OUT!  How am I going to make 1.2 miles of this?!?!?!  The saltwater was another obstacle…yuck.  Gun goes off, women swimming.  There was some water commotion, but I was at the very back, so it wasn’t too bad.  I just could not get my face under water without difficulties breathing.  I swam breast stroke with my head above water for probably 5-10 minutes.  I know a couple of other age groups passed me.  At one point, I looked behind me and saw a few other women with pink caps struggling too.  Finally, I could put my face under, but try as I might, freestyle wasn’t happening.  Is that water in my goggles?  Am I taking in too much saltwater?  Why can’t I just swim straight?  Why can’t I breathe?  More age groupers passed me while I continued to breaststroke.  Breathing was labored.  A man grabbed my leg.  I kicked someone in the face. I stopped at a paddleboard.  The lifeguard was sooooo nice.  “Grab on, you can hang out as long as you like.”  I hung out about a minute and forced myself to press on.  Another buoy, another buoy.  Stop and rest.  Another buoy, another buoy.  Little by little, I made it to where the breakers ended and the swells began.  Wow.  I thought I would be more scared, but really I was just worried about being taken off course, swept away.  I’m pretty sure the swells were 4-6 feet.  There was a storm surge moving in, expected to crest on Sunday afternoon.  The interesting thing was, the swells came from various directions, as they moved in off of the ocean and hit the breakers all around us.  Rounded the corner marked by red buoys, then on to the orange buoys marking the second half.  My neck and shoulders began to hurt, and once I was out of the swells, I decided to try freestyle again.  It felt pretty relaxed and easy, but I zigzagged a little, so I mixed it up with breaststroke.  

Geek in a sausage suit

Eventually, I heard someone yelling my name and looked up to see my beloved and my beautiful kids.  It was exactly what I needed.  I got out of the water in 1:14, totally disappointed, as I had expected to finish in 55 or so.  20 minutes behind…ugh.  All the bikes on my rack gone.  Ugh.  I am going to be last, again.  Ugh.  Wait a minute, my goal was to finish, right?  And I finished the swim, right?  And I made it with minutes and minutes to spare, right?  Pull your head out of your butt and get moving!!! 

I’d like to take this opportunity to comment on how amazing the volunteers were.  Helping with my wetsuit, fixing my sleeve, packing my stuff up, offering encouragement.  I am so appreciative!

Bike out

Bike:

I got on the bike, encouraged by the cheering of Will and the kids and the BPW, and I’m thinking, “I might actually pull this off.”  A few miles in, I remembered my bike computer and my watch, realizing that at the end of the swim, I had stopped my watch, rather than lapping it.  I fixed the watch and pulled my bike computer out, and it flew out of my hands and into the weeds!  Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to wing it.  Will and the BPW had warned me the roads were slick, and I had brand new tires, so I took it easy on the corners.  I passed some people, and some people passed me, and the first 20 miles were pretty uneventful for me, though not for the other 5 people with flats that I passed.  Before the 30-mile mark, there was this HILL to end all HILLS.  I saw about 15-20 people ahead of me walking their bikes, but I really wanted to ride it, so I tried.  About 1/3 of the way up, I got off and walked, passed by a very large lady still pedaling.  Humbling.  As I got closer to the summit, I started to be able to make out some of what the 2 “cheerleaders” at the top were saying, and it was not exactly positive, but I think it was meant to be encouraging.  I’m pretty sure they were Marine drill sergeants!  The female made some comment about my skirt and how it’s important to look good, and I laughed heartily and got back on…fun downhill, though I have no idea how fast I was going.  There were more hills after that, and I was riding uphill with a 54-year old at mile 39 when we decided that we were probably on the last hill, judging by the elevation map we had studied online.  WRONG!!!  After the first hill, the rest seemed easy, and because I was at sea level, my breathing was good, so I rode them all, even though others didn’t.  1600 feet of elevation gain! And I ate sooooo much hammer gel on that ride, a little bit every 20-30 minutes, which I think paid off on the hills and probably during the run, as well. I started getting tired at about the 50-mile mark, and about 2 miles out, we rode behind a strip mall where I could smell hamburgers cooking, so I started craving a burger.  And it was raining.  

I have never been as happy to see a transition area as I was to see T2.  I had hoped to make the ride in 3:45, but alas, it was a 4:06 ride.  Simultaneously relieved and disappointed, I dismounted and started running into T2.  Again, helpful volunteers pointed me in the right direction, retrieved my bag, and racked my bike, and I was off and running!

Run:

Amazingly, I never felt wobbly coming off of the bike…I had tried to be conservative on the ride, having heard horror stories about people who overdo it on the bike and explode on the run.   And I was so energized by my family and friends being there, cheering me on, that I felt like I was floating for the first few miles.  Best feeling in the world.  By then, Will and the kids and the BPW had been joined by the LA transplants, hooray!  On the ride, I kept thinking about all of them being there, waiting for me.  About setting a good example for my kids.  About being tough as nails, strong as an ox, fast as a…?

Nice venue!

The beginning of the course was flat and lined with spectators.  Most of the onlookers were great!  Little kids yelling, “You can do it!”  “Go Ironwoman!” and adults cheering, “Go 1648!” “You’ve got this!”  Go…[pause while said person looks for my name on my race number]…Heather!”  There were some weirdos out there, too:  “Just remember you CHOSE to be out here.  You SIGNED UP for this!  You PAID for this experience!  ENJOY it!” or “Step it up!  You gotta’ dig deep!  It’s all mental…mind over matter!”  I just tried to smile and cheer and cheer other runners on.  It was both energizing and demoralizing to run a loop course, as I knew a lot of the people I ran by on the first loop were about to finish.  Those who stood out:  2 amputees just ripping it up with their cool cheetah-inspired leg, a 69-year old woman who had calves like rocks, a dude in a wheelchair.  They all SMOKED me, along with MANY others…old people, fat people, walking people.   Very humbling.  I know this is my first year in triathlon, I know I am 43 years old, and I know this was my first 70.3, but I think I expected to be more competitive.  The good news is there is nowhere to go from here but up.  And I am motivated to do better next time.  And I had to remind myself at this point in the race that my goal was to finish under the cutoff time.  So I plodded along.  The second part of the loop was hilly, and I had to walk some hills in order not to trigger my IT band issues too early in the run.  Onlookers saw this as a sign that I was slacking or tiring and tried to motivate me.  But, truth be told, I felt pretty darn good during the entire run.  No blisters, no troubles breathing.  The temperature was cool and cloudy until mile 12.  It was nice.  Will ran with me from miles 6-8, which was very encouraging and took my mind off of the run for a while.  I made the 3:08pm cutoff at mile 8 with many minutes to spare and knew I could finish!  And the woman who was embarrassed by her 50-minute swim did not make the 8-mile cutoff.  She was pulled from the race and had a DNF for the day.  

Me, at the finish, 8:34:37!

My own doubts were triggered again at mile 12, when a very well-meaning volunteer yelled, “You have 15 minutes to make your age-group cutoff…STEP IT UP!!!!”  Crap!  I thought we had until 4:18pm!  It was 3:38pm.  My official 8:30 cutoff time would have been 3:51pm.  I didn’t think I could run 1.2 miles, at the END OF AN HALF-IRONMAN, fast enough to make it to the finish by 3:51pm, but I thought I would try, and I stepped it up.  When I could see the finish line, some man yelled, “Way to step that shit up!  You could pass 3 people before you finish!  Go! Go! Go!”  And pass 3 people before the finish line I did.  And I finished.  And I heard the announcer say, “Here comes Heather from Flagstaff, Arizona.  You did it, Heather!  Way to go!”  I did it.  Finished that race in 8:34:37. I was last to finish in my age group, but not last overall.  I watched the last person cross.  Her name was Heather.  She was escorted across the finish line by 30 cheering volunteers and an arch of balloons.  It was a beautiful sight.