5daystoglory

Well here we are! Five days to glory. I've been hashtagging the snot out of all of my stuff. and this one seems to have stuck (counting down from about 12). I'm feeling SO super excited right now. I've practiced changing tires, grabbing water on the go, nutrition, and transitions. I've made my packing list and compared it to my training runs and my transition practices. My friends and family have their poster boards and their cowbells and their directions on when to stand where and all of that good stuff. I'm obsessively checking the weather and the water temps, but other than than, I AM READY!

I may wake up tomorrow scared out of my mind, but my self-talk today has been super positive. "It will be choppy, but you have your wetsuit and kayaks and buoys and you.will.be.fine. It will be windy, but you have trained hard in the wind and you know what to expect and you.will.be.fine. It will be hot, but you will have cooling sleeves, cold sponges, ice, and your family is armed with water guns and you.will.be.fine."

Yesterday was a bit of a mess - kids had swim practice 4-5, soccer 6-7, and scouts 6:30-7:30. Somehow, Coach Sheri managed to run out the door with no ball bag and no whistle, but thanks to an enormous mouth and a killer set of lungs God gave me, we made it through. I'm thankful I was able to get my swim in early and focus on being mom (read - being two places at the same thing). Taper week seems to have hit at just the right time. Doug started a new job last week and we're all kind of discombobulated, but at least my training dropped from ~10 hours a week to ~3. I feel everything falling into place and today? I'm not scared. Today I am trusting in my training and in myself.

In other news, I've decided to race in honor of Cameron Clanton. My cousin and her husband lost thier little boy almost exactly 19 years ago. Their family has been on my heart a lot lately and as fate would have it, his birthday is race day. When I get scared or tired or something starts to hurt, I will lift his family up in prayer. I will remember how scared and tired and painful this experience was for our entire family and I will push through - not just for the sake of finishing the race, but for the sake of bringing glory to an otherwise sad day for our family. To bring honor to his memory and to my dedication. My dear friend and training buddy says I should have picked a happier memory to carry with me on race day, but this one is near and dear to me and the timing is right somehow.

So. #5daystoglory. Five days to #HIMTX #IM703TX #brasstacks. Five days until I skip, crawl, stumble across that finish line and embrace the reward that I've trained so hard for over these last 7 months. Five days until my race report.

Expectations

This is part of an email I sent to a family member today to outline what I expect race day to look like. Notice how many times I use the word expect. I see 5 here, not to mention the times I used expect that's from the part of the email I'm not sharing.

My swim wave starts at 7:48 on 4/26. I expect to be in the water for 45-55 minutes. I do not expect anyone to be there that early. That's madness. :)

I'll be out on the bike for 3-3.5 hours (expecting to be back in transition around noon/12:30). Doug and the kids are hoping to catch me out on the road somewhere down towards Pirate's Beach. I'll get him to get in touch with y'all about that as the day approaches. Or even the day of. 

For the run... There's no telling. If all goes well, I'll be headed out no later than 12:45. My typical half marathon time is 2:20-2:40. I have NO idea what to expect that to look like after 57.2 miles of extreme exertion. 

My real goal is to finish before they close the course (which is 4:45). My stretch goal is to finish in 7 hours (which will be around 3ish). 

When I finish, I expect to be in the finisher area for a bit (30 minutes or so) for medals, photos, massage, etc. after that, I intend to eat at least 6 pounds of protein and collapse into a heap. :) I would love for y'all to join us for that celebratory meal.

I have oft compared Ironman to pregnancy, labor, and delivery. Increased levels of discomfort, increased appetite toward the end, counting down the days, obsessing over every item you put in your mouth, obsessing over every tiny detail. This summary of what I expect is kind of like a birth plan. I have it all figured out in my head, but race day will likely bring a million unexpected variables I haven't planned for. I am (just in this moment) considering racing blind. Ditching the watch. Pulling the computer from my bike. Refusing to ask, "What time is it?" I know that's madness, but I have to wonder if it'd be better for my psyche to let go of all the expectations and just enjoy the day. I am confident I can hit all the cutoffs. Keeping up with the time will only serve to frustrate me (or will it...?). 

That's my job over the next 18 days. Finish the training plan strong, let go of expectations, eat clean, stay away from wine, and hydrate like it's the most important thing I've ever done. 

****I can't wait to revisit this after the big day.****

Three weeks out

While I had hoped to keep up with this on a weekly basis, that clearly has not happened. I'll be back logging some of my bigger training accomplishments during taper week (like my first 50+ mile bike ride - whoop whoop!) and some of the mind games I have played with myself over the past several weeks.

Today, I'm less than three weeks out from the big day. The hay? It's in the barn. Peak week was last week and I made it. I did a dumb, dumb thing and tried to push my rest day out 4 days to accommodate Easter Sunday, but that was a huge, miserable mistake that resulted in me falling asleep in the shower. No foolin'. I wound up taking an extra rest day to make up for the punishment I had already put my body through in an effort to avoid resting. Go figure...

Peak week also brought my first flat (and my second) in the span of a mile. Nice. I'm not sure what I ran over, but I was pedaling and pushing and grinding and switching gears and I was still. . . slowing. . . down. . . "Hey Heather?" I hollered over my shoulder. "Is something wrong with my back tire?" I had a problem with my back brakes rubbing a few weeks back and we were able to stop, make a quick adjustment, and get back on the road. "Shit. You got a flat..." Heather has been cycling for 10 years, so she knew what to do. Thank God. After we got the tube switched out, we hopped back on and had to stop less than a minute later. I don't know what we did wrong, but we tried again and this one seemed to do the trick.

Peak week also brought the realization that I am NOT ready for a full anytime soon. Peak week ended with 145 miles and 11.5 hours of training. From what I understand, a full demands nearly that much every week and a lot more as you build. If that causes me to fall asleep standing up? I'm not so sure I'll ever be ready to repeat that on a weekly basis.

It's 80 degrees here in Houston today, so I went out for a nice little jog. I was shooting for 10 and realized around 4ish that I was NOT prepared to handle 10 in this heat with no support and only one water fountain along the way. I hoofed it home and ended with 5 and some change. Another hour of hay in the barn.

That's it for my random ramblings for the day. I'm sure I'll be spewing all of my thoughts on paper the closer we get to race day. 19 days and counting!

Recovery Week

So this is my first recovery week, my first one since. . . April. I'm lost. And found. And trying to make peace with it all.

On one hand, my body is screaming at me to "DO SOMETHING!!!" On the other hand, it's super nice to hang out in my pjs with a second third cup of coffee in my hands while playing Ariel and Flounder with my little girl.

On one hand, it's really nice to get caught up on my laundry and my blogging and on work and on changing burned out light bulbs and on finishing taxes and. . . on the other hand, I'm obsessively checking the weather to see if it will hold for a non-existent long ride/run this weekend.

On one hand, I'm glad to stay at home in my nice, warm house rather than trek out into the 36-degree rain to the pool. On the other hand, I'm counting miles and comparing weeks and wondering "What happened this week???" before I realize that it's re-cov-er-y weeeeeeek. Say it slowly.

One of my favorite people in the whole world wrote this little diddy awhile back. I didn't get it (yet) because I hadn't been doing this long enough to understand where she was coming from. Swim Bike Mom had written this piece about the Sucky Rotation Schedule where something has to fall below the "suck line" in order to keep all the balls in the air. You know the balls. Marriage, kids, work, training, groceries and cooking, laundry, vet visits, visiting old people, cleaning, homework, mowing the grass, sleeping. Those balls. It occurred to me today that Recovery Week is the time that it's OK to let "training" fall below the suck line. All of the other balls that have fallen below the suck line are finally getting some attention this week and that's good. My life is not all about this race I'm working toward. This race is just one of many balls I have in the air.

So on one hand, my body and my brain are all confused about what we're doing. But on the other hand, this is giving me a chance to put the whole rest of my life back together so that each of the balls can take its turn below the suck line in a week or two.

I'm glad we had this chat. Carry on.

Near Miss

Every day I get on my bike, I say to myself, "Today is the day I will fall off of my bike." I've said it since my first ride with #brucethebike. It's just something I started in an effort to remind myself to never get cocky and to always remember to unclip. Every time I say it, I envision a slow-speed tipover at a stop sign. 

This morning, I took this picture of myself. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook and said, "Feeling fancy and legit today. This is the day I will fall off my bike."

This morning we had a 40% chance of showers we were trying to outrun. The roads were a little damp, but not wet enough to keep us inside. My group usually rides 40+. I haven't had a chance to ride with them since I actually broke 30, so this was new territory. We took a different route that I was unfamiliar with. Seeing all the variables here?

Anyway, we were almost back to my car and we were coming up on a green and it was a major intersection. I thought I heard our lead guy say "GOING!" so I cranked it only to hear him yell "STOPPING!" The pavement was wet by now as more showers had come through the area and I fishtailed pretty bad. My front tire was shaking and I was damn near out in the intersection (like, access road to the interstate intersection). The whole 2 seconds, I kept repeating to myself, "Get your foot out... get your foot out..." but I wasn't stable enough to get enough torque to get out. At the LAST second, I pulled out and managed to save myself. That, friends. That was terrifying. I'm glad it happened, though, to give me an idea of what to expect and how I would react. I'm glad it didn't happen on race day and I'm glad it happened with good friends but I never care to repeat that.

That was the last day that I'll ever say something to tempt fate when I'm getting on #brucethebike. Lesson learned.

Rhythm and Blues

This weekend was the Rhythm and Blues Half Marathon. I decided to do this race just a few weeks ago when my favorite local race was canceled. I've been training pretty diligently and figured I had plenty of time to up my mileage before the race. Turns out, I was right!

We went through our usual prerace routine of fettuccine alfredo dinner and were fortunate enough to pass the kids off to my folks for a sleepover. Doug and I headed home, laid out our gear (which is SO TINY after triathlon!), and tucked ourselves in early. This was the first race I wasn't nervous about. I knew I could manage the distance and when all else fails, walk a while. It took me a long time to get to this point (over two years and five half marathons), but now that I've arrived, it makes race day so much more pleasant.

After parking downtown (I'm, again, reminded of why I don't do downtown races), we made our way to the unofficial official starting line of ALL races - the portapotties. We managed to find 5 of our running friends before the start and found our way to the real starting line. I didn't even hear the start, but the mob started moving and so did I. We quickly lost our buddies, but we're all different paces so whatevs. Doug and two friends were doing the 1/4 marathon and the rest of us were tackling the 1/2, so our routes were even slightly different.

I never did see mile marker 1 or 2, so when I came up on 3 at 31:00, I was shocked. That would have been a PR 5K for me, so I was a little nervous. My fastest race to date was 2:34:02. My goal today was 2:30. I quickly did the math in my head and realized that if I maintained this pace, I'd finish in 2:22. THAT'S lofty - a 12-minute PR. I talked myself into trying to maintain and went about my way.

For a February race, it was HOT. Like water on my head at every aid station HOT. I had my hydration belt split half water and half Gatorade with a few Humas on my belt. I allowed myself a ShotBlock or a Huma every 45 minutes. Every aid station was 2 Gatorades and a water on my head. In February! What the heck??

Any-ol'-who, my "dark miles" are usually around 8-10. Once I pass 10, that's "just" a 5k and my brain leaves me alone. Around mile 8, I saw a friend on the opposite side of the course who told me that his fiance was just ahead of me. WHAT? Randi is fast. She's a 2-time Ironman, multiple-time marathoner, and countless-time half marathoner. And she's fast. And I was right behind her?? "Catch her!" he said. So I did. I set out to catch her and finally caught up at 12.5. Guess what? My dark miles were over and I didn't even notice.

Randi was the perfect rabbit. When I finally caught her, she was walking. When I said hey to her, she decided to run with me. Just before mile marker 13, she started picking it up and I lagged behind. "I'm not slowing down," she said. "Go on with your bad self," I retorted. "Nope. You're gonna have to catch me." Well hell's bells. Here we go again. So off I went to catch my rabbit. Even though she finished 10 seconds ahead of me, my chip time was actually a full minute faster than hers. And guess what? It was 2:21:57. I maintained and I finished in my projected time.

I am so very proud of this race. I had fun, I hydrated well, my nutrition was spot-on, and I destroyed my PR. This race was great for my mental game and I feel very ready to tackle Galveston in a short 9 weeks. These "little" milestones along the way are amazing for my training, confidence, and mental game. Not that I wasn't looking forward to Galveston before, but this race has renewed my vigor for the finish line. NINE WEEKS! Nine weeks and I'll be writing the race report I've been dreaming of for months.

Dreadmill Beast

This weekend we're headed to Giddings to see PopPop and Granny (aka, Doug's dad and stepmom). I try *really* hard not to drive other people crazy with my training schedule. For those who "get it," I make no exceptions. For those who don't, I really try hard. I knew that we'd have a big weekend of model rockets, catfish feeding, and country things, so I decided to head to the gym for my last "long" run before the half. I convinced myself to run a 10k on the treadmill. I see these northern folks do it all the time. No sweat, right?

I dropped Lia off at Kids Club, found myself a treadmill, and staked my claim. I laced up my shoes, refilled my water bottle, got my towel all situated and couldn't.find.my.earbuds. At this point, I had no choice but to run. Child at kid care, missed window of opportunity to run elsewhere... I was screwed. Here we go with that mental toughness thing again...

So there I was, Great Day Houston on one TV and Fox and Friends on the TV off to my left. What I really wanted to watch was Fox and Friends and their discussions about the prayer breakfast, but it was at this wonky angle and it was making me off-kilter. Great Day Houston was talking about the Grammys. You know how many craps I give about the Grammys. Less than zero. Less than zero craps about Ed Sheeran or Sam Smith or whoever these dudes were. We listen to Christian music, The Beatles, and The Wheels on the Bus. Popular music is lost on me.

This, my friends. THIS is mental toughness. Paula Abdul on the gym radio (it's the way that you love me.. ooooooooooh, it's the way that you love me), random dudes I care nothing about on the TV, and 6.2 miles on a treadmill. I'm generally trying to drown myself out and telling the voice of doubt to shut up, but today? I would have given ANYTHING to get lost in my own head.

Fortunately, a friend showed up about 20 minutes before I finished. She mercifully left her earbuds in her bag and chatted it up with me while I finished my run. That's what friends are for. Even though the first 40+ minutes were TORTURE, I'm so glad I got this run in before heading out of town for the weekend. Now if I can survive 3 hours in the car in 5:00 Friday afternoon traffic with 2 little people, I'll have earned my mental toughness badge for the day. Carry on, friends!