The Nemesis becomes the Savior

Cleveland roads in February

If you've been reading my blog, you know I've spent more time than most contemplating pre-race anxiety, mid-race splits, and post-race fallout inside the blue translucent walls of a porta-john. But on Saturday, during my longest bike ride since Kona, I found an unexpected advantage of what's inside those plastic walls - and it's likely I never would have finished my ride without it. And oddly enough, it had nothing to do with internal distress of any sort.. well, unless you count panic as internal distress.

I scheduled my first outdoor long ride of the year for last Saturday because it was the best weather day of the weekend. By "best," I mean the forecast high was 40 degrees with only a 20% chance of precipitation (in the form of snow). I had an underlying goal to get my first 100-miler in before the end of February. And after several mind-numbing 4- to 5-hour rides on the CompuTrainer, I knew the only way it would happen was if I could get outside. If the temperature hit at least 40, I would grit my teeth and bear it.

There was one major fault in my logic: I didn't consider the wind.

You may ask: how does a person in Cleveland (in winter) NOT consider the wind? I don't know. Seriously. Call it a momentary lapse or just general scatterbrainedness, but I completely disregarded the wind as a factor in my decision to ride on Saturday. I dressed for sub-30 degrees with windstopper mittens and jacket, and I started out with the wind and uphill - it all served to give me a false sense of security. I was already soaked with sweat by the time I headed north/west and into the wind - and I would learn the true meaning of mind over matter while fighting the wind, wet, and cold for the next three hours.

Being a stubborn masochist, I was determined to see this thing through (the usual recipe for disaster). The other option was to turn around early and finish on the trainer. I don't know about you, but getting a taste of outdoor riding then having to go back inside for many hours was even more horrifying to me than suffering in the cold.

So I gutted it out for three hours into the wind - disappointingly slow - while the feeling in my hands and feet came and went with intermittent sun and snow. I continued only with the knowledge of how wonderful it would feel the when I finally turned around to have wind at my back. All the while, I paid close attention to flags just in case the wind direction threatened to change (don't laugh, it HAS happened on more than one occasion).

First major Gu shipment

The only other thing I wanted to focus on was my nutrition. This ride was my first test of Gu's new Roctane Ultra Endurance drink. It wasn't the best day to practice race nutrition, but I did learn some things. Roctane it is the most palatable thing I've ever had on a long ride. The flavor is not too sweet or too strong for the amount of calories you get. And it gets into your system very quickly, saving me on this ride more than once. Suffering and struggling to keep my bike upright in strong wind and cold, the last thing I wanted to do was take my hand off the bars to grab a water bottle. I consumed very little in those first three hours, but thought about it only when I felt lightheaded and fatigued. Roctane brought me back from near oblivion in just a few minutes. It probably also helped that the lemon-lime flavor has caffeine in it. Whatever it was, it worked! I'm looking forward to using it properly on a ride - instead of the "drink-half-the-bottle-once-an-hour-so-you-don't-have-to-risk-losing-control-of-your-bike" method. The one thing I can't comment about yet is whether Roctane tastes as good warm because, for the first time EVER, I still had ice in my bottles when I finished the ride (no, I am NOT making this up).

At long last, after suffering for many miles along the lakeshore while marveling over the whitecaps (waves in Lake Erie?), I was finally heading back and riding with the wind. My expectation to "be going twice as fast once I turn around" was soon dashed to pieces upon realizing my legs and body were toast from the first three-hour ordeal. It was going to be a long day indeed - but the sun came out and I had some moments of warmth.

That is, right up until I got a flat tire. Only ten miles of cruising with the wind at my back and I was sidelined with a flat - just as the sun vanished behind a layer of dark clouds. I was at about the farthest point from home on a miserable cold windy day. There was only one redeeming thing - it happened at Huntington Beach. There might be shelter there. It didn't change the fact that I still had to take my gloves off... or that my hands were already numb. It didn't change the fact that I still had more than 2.5 hours of riding to do AFTER I stopped to change my tire. I walked my bike to the park hoping I could find shelter from the wind next to a building or something - or in the restroom. But the restrooms were boarded up. I called my husband Jim.

Jim's take on this? "By the time I get to you, you'll already be a popsicle [his exact words]. You better at least attempt to change it.... but call me when you're done so I know you're on your way."

I looked up. There was one possibility for shelter from the wind.. in... you guessed it, a porta-john. No, this wasn't just any porta-john. It was one of those huge blue handicapped ones - big enough to have a party in. It was even big enough to... change a tire in. I opened the door and wheeled in my bike. Sure enough, it fit - with room to spare.

Those plastic walls didn't change the fact it was cold outside. They didn't change the fact that I blew out my back tire. And they didn't change the fact that my fingers were numb. But they did keep me out of the wind, and I was able to get the tire changed in about 10-15 minutes. I might even say the cold was a blessing in this case - my nasal passages were so plugged that I was oblivious to any unpleasant odors. My only regret is that I didn't at least take a picture of the whole scene. I just couldn't risk my compromised fingers dropping my iPhone in porta-john nether regions.

I had only 10 miles of hills to go at this point - I still
didn't make it before dark.

But then came the hard part. Shivering and stiff-legged, I still had to get home before going hypothermic. And there was one more thing I hadn't accounted for: the dark. I had begun my ride at midday - and after extremely slow going and now this, getting home before nightfall was no longer a given.

Once I was back on my bike, I rode extra hard to warm up. I even managed to get the feeling back in my fingers for a bit. But, alas, I couldn't outrun the dark. With about 13 miles left, I called Jim to tell him where I was - and ask him to come find me if it got too dark before I made it home. As usual, it did. I don't remember the sun ever going down that fast. But it was winter. In the northern hemisphere. This is what happens. And I was wearing sunglasses.

I took a slight shortcut home to avoid the dark backroads, and when I finally took the turn onto my my street, I stopped one final time to call Jim and let him know I was almost home. He had already left to find me but turned around and managed to get home just as I pulled in the driveway.

I looked down at my odometer. Devastatingly, it read 99 miles. But I was done. Once I saw the garage door opening, neither my body nor my mind could take another spin around the block. I only hope that what I gained in mental toughness (stupidity?) was worth the extra mile.

The Un-balance

Cleveland winters usually keep me training inside
(this was my front yard yesterday)

I've been struggling for weeks to write this blog - mainly because of a lackadaisical attitude towards training for many weeks. I've started my training for Ironman St. George, but I haven't been at all excited about it. Being stuck on the bike trainer for many months was easier - and much more fun - last year than this year, and even though I'm not skipping or skimping on workouts, I just haven't been really enthusiastic during most of them and I've been wracking my brain to figure out why. Here's what I came up with.

January was my month to be wholly unmotivated. I now believe that the reason for this was, simply, my job. I love my new job, and the time I've been putting into it (mentally) has taken me away (mentally) from my other great passion, training.

It's ironic that the reason for my return to racing in 2008 after a four-year hiatus, was also, simply, my job. That job (at the Zoo) had become a source of disappointment when I learned that hard work and dedication was irrelevant to my opportunities for advancement. I was "stuck." Eventually, I came to terms with it - because, fundamentally, I loved the work (and it's true, if you love what you do, it's not really work at all). But as always, I needed an outlet for the energetic and goal-oriented side of my personality and I already knew that racing could satisfy that urge. Recommitting myself to Ironman finally paid off three years later,  when I was able to make good on my nine-year-old promise from 2002 to one day return to Kona.

For the last three years, dedicating myself to training was easy because, like clockwork, something coincidentally disappointing at work would happen in January or February and reignite the passion to be a better athlete. But this year was different. This year there was no need to recommit because of work woes. This year I find myself in a very rewarding position at The Cleveland Museum of Art. I am surrounded by like-minded, energetic, and hard-working cohorts. Some of them are also athletes. And instead of fueling my passion for training and racing, my coworkers and supervisors have fueled my passion for my work. I am once again fully engaged in my job and spending more time at it than necessary - not because I "have" to, but because I "want" to.

And because I'm one of those people who can't do anything half-assed, this has once again become a curse as I desperately try to create balance among all the things I want and have to do. I just can't DO everything with maximum engagement. Upsetting the balance this year has actually created a new level of anxiety and stress that I'm currently having trouble coming to grips with.

Since the beginning of February, I've worked to put motivation back into my training but new stresses are revealing themselves. Now that the motivation is back, the gains do not seem to be coming. Or maybe it's too early to tell. I have always worried about a point at which my age becomes a major factor in the "hard work pays off" ethic, and I'm worried I may be reaching that point. In the past three weeks, I'm not seeing gains in power on the trainer despite working myself to exhaustion. The same is happening in the pool. The only place where my training seems to be paying off is on the treadmill where I've seen gains in speed over time by doing intervals. Based on the other two sports, I reason that my running had become very slow to begin with so it's no big deal that I got faster.

The question I keep asking myself is: how much longer can I keep it up if I don't see more positive results? In contrast to my worried assessment, my husband Jim (usually the voice of reason) keeps telling me I said the same thing last year. All I can say now is, I hope he's right.

It All Starts Here

Scene from "The Goonies"

The title is a quote from one of my favorite scenes in "The Goonies" - it's when the young Sean Astin realizes the only way out for him and his friends is to follow the pirate treasure map. It's not so much a statement of excitement as it is a statement of resignation. Basically, it was the beginning of the adventure and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Today, I feel the same way about my 2012 season. Once again, I find myself registered for Ironman St. George. I have resigned myself to the training necessary for racing an Ironman the first week of May. I did it (and survived) last year, but I can't say I'm looking forward to an adventure. Instead, I'm looking at a long, dark, and cold winter of power-building and epic-long sessions on the CompuTrainer, long runs in well-below-freezing temperatures, wind from the Alberta clippers, ice and snow, treacherous driving to the pool, and wet hair in the cold after swimming. I'm looking at dry, chapped skin from the cold and the chlorine, numb fingers and toes, constant shivering, even more lines on my face, and heaven-knows-how-many new scars from slipping on ice.

My husband Jim has to live through my constant over-analysis of CompuTrainer stats, complaining that I'm always cold and numb and my skin is always dry, and wondering if the next time he sees me I'll be covered with blood - from slipping on the aforementioned ice.

When I cross that finish line on May 5 in Utah, will I (we) be able to say that it was all worth it? (I mean, that's the big question, isn't it? Knowing the hard work paid off?)

As I get older, I am reminded of a former cycling buddy who, on the worst (cold, rainy) days, would ask: "Jeanne, are we having fun?" If we agreed the answer was "No" (not frequently), we would pack it in and go have a beer (or breakfast). Training has to be more than just the sense of accomplishment, but I do  enjoy that daily "high." I also enjoy the hard training as it gives me internal rewards - feeling stronger or tougher for having done it. Racing has never been a need, but it can be the icing on the cake.

Racing Ironman, however, requires a huge commitment. It doesn't just give me a reason to do what I love. It involves a serious financial commitment - currently over $600/race plus travel expenses - well before the training commences. And I don't think I could do Ironman without goals because I can't say I enjoy the training enough to just do it for fun. So here I am, looking at the beginning of my training cycle for Ironman St. George.

There has to be a starting point, so I chose to start with a comparison. As I'm coming from my "off-season," I decided to do my first long-ish ride on the RacerMate St. George Real Course video and compare it to the first one I did in training for IMSG 2011. This year, I rode for 3 hours and covered 49 miles of the course. Last year, my first course ride was in mid-January - I rode for 3.5 hours and covered 54 miles. Thus begins the CompuTrainer over-analysis:

On the IM St. George course, this plot shows that on Saturday (red line)
I reached the same point (49 mi) faster than my first ride in January

I also plotted my power and heart rate vs. miles on the SG course, just to see how that compared:

Power (watts) vs. miles on IM St. George course.
My power on Saturday (red line) was similar to Jan 15, but in some
places was consistently higher (good, right?).

Heartrate (BPM) vs miles on IM St. George course.
My heart rate on Saturday (red line) was of similar shape but was
consistently higher for most of the ride (not good). I hope that the point where it
looks like I died was when I got off the bike to replenish my water bottles.

I'm not exactly sure that the differences are of any significance - I guess my higher heart rate has me a bit concerned that I'm in worse shape, but I am encouraged that it is earlier in the training cycle, and I rode slightly faster and was able to hold that higher heart rate for so long. (It may also have something to do with the fact that I currently have a raging sinus infection.)

Overall, I feel like I'm in decent shape at the start of my Ironman training, but only time will tell if I can stay healthy and motivated through winter of 2012, and come out fighting in May. I hope it's the beginning of a long and rewarding season - oops, I mean "adventure."

Minding the Motor City: an Ode to Detroit

Beware Detroit Tigers - the entrance to the baseball stadium

The city of Detroit conjures up two things for me: the brilliant 14-minute Dire Straits anthem "Telegraph Road" and the movie Robocop. I would describe both as bleak, dingy, hard-edged and yet beautiful odes to the aptly-named Motor City. The last time I spent an overnight in Detroit, it was to run the Detroit Marathon the next morning. The time before that, I did the Motor City Triathlon. But I've been in Detroit many more times than that - I just never wanted to stay there.

I've spent more time in Detroit than any major city in the American Midwest (other than places I've lived). The main reason for so many visits is because Detroit is the closest city to Cleveland (my current home) that manages to get bookings of my favorite UK musicians (despite every musician's deepest desire to shout "Hello Cleveland!" while lost in the maze of hallways beneath a music venue).

Thus, once again, this weekend found my husband Jim and me making our way to yet another gig in Detroit, this time to see David Gray at the Detroit Opera House. When we found out it was a Saturday show, we decided to spend the weekend instead of attempting the three-hour drive home after midnight like we always do. We ate at our two favorite area restaurants: dinner at Pizza Papalis in Greektown (discovered before the triathlon in 2008) and brunch, complete with a Michigan pint, at Foran's Grand Trunk Pub (discovered after the marathon in 2010).

And, once again, because I'm training for an Ironman, I had to do a long run the morning after a gig in another city. And despite all my previous trips, today was the first time it was necessary for me to just "go running" in Detroit. Running - or FINDING someplace to run  - was not something I was looking forward to based on what I've seen of and heard about Detroit.

But to be fair, I usually enjoy long runs in new places and this time, I wasn't working with an absence of information. I scoped out a place I already knew - Belle Isle. Belle Isle is an island smack in the middle of the Detroit River with the U.S.A. (to which it belongs) on the west bank and Canada on the east. It is the site of the Motor City Triathlon and about four miles of the Detroit Marathon.

Obviously, I've run on Belle Isle before. What I haven't done is run there alone on a Sunday morning in the winter. And like the bonehead I am, until I was running along the commercial, barren stretch of Jefferson Avenue that leads to the bridge to the Isle (called the MacArthur Bridge), it never occurred to me that this might be a bad idea.

But here's where I can say this: sometimes, not often, being a bonehead has its payoffs. I set out Sunday morning dressed for 30 degrees F with a 10 mph wind from the south. I headed out to the riverfront and then north. I instantly remembered the familiar path I was on - the Detroit Riverwalk. How could I forget it? During the last three miles of the marathon, while on the Riverwalk, I reveled in chasing down several women and men who had passed me early on the course. Except, this time the view and weather were much different. A dismal and cold gray haze hung in the air and all greenery was blanketed with several inches of snow. My only companions on this run were large islands of ice floating along the river's edge.

These floaters are much colder and less friendly
than the ones I race by in my pool lane.

View south toward Robocop's building (i.e., GM Renaissance Ctr)
on Detroit Riverwalk, Detroit-Windsor bridge in distance.

In retracing my steps from the last six miles of of the marathon, I eventually ended up in both upscale new loft housing neighborhoods and barren areas with old buildings and lots of graffiti. But forged on to Belle Isle. And to my extreme surprise, every single person I ran by or near, whether a runner, dog-walker or street-wanderer, had nothing for me but a smile and a greeting. I am happy to say my run wasn't scary at all, and I'm impressed with the care taken to keep Detroit's riverfront recreational, even during the snowy months.

By the time I was heading back, now against the wind, I should have felt much colder. But my heart had warmed to Detroit, and my appreciation of midwesterners had risen to a new level. And although I will probably always miss my native home of New England - with it's rocky beauty and sandy ocean beachscapes - and continue to complain about my adopted home of Cleveland - with its stark machined concreteness and harsh lake-effect winters - this weekend I have discovered quite a bit of depth and beauty in the tough exterior of a Midwest industrial city, and I'm happy to have it as part of my experience.

Beauty in form (and streetlights): MacArthur Bridge to Belle Isle

The river just north of the bridge was the site
where open water ended and a single ice sheet began.

Concrete as functional art - the Detroit Riverwalk has a giant
stamped map of the Detroit, USA - Windsor, Canada region.

Treadmill Disaster: A Day in the Life

That doesn't look too bad:
when you fall on a treadmill, the
welt resembles the belt pattern.

I've grown to accept my lot as the Disaster Magnet. It's made me a little more careful over the years and even more superstitious than most. Yes, I do avoid walking under ladders, and I take extra precautions on Friday the 13th. But, as I found out yesterday, sometimes, even when I make a concerted effort to avoid disaster, it will find me. It seeks me out. And I must be lacking in proper disasters as of late, because I was obviously due for a big one.

The big one started with the weather. Two weeks ago, I had my yearly reminder of what happens on black ice. Luckily (for my body but not for my neighbor's yard), it happened in the car. I pulled out of my driveway, turned the wheel left but kept going straight... straight into the snowbank in my neighbor's yard. Note to self: ice is dangerous. Especially the ice you can't see.

Every winter, I slip at least once on black ice. I have constant reminders of these incidents: running tights with holes in them and scars on my knees. In 2008, I slipped once while running and once while NOT running. I was on a photography assignment at work when I slipped on ice and fell right smack on my camera lens (of all things) -- and broke a rib. And you question why they call me the Disaster Magnet?

So yesterday, I decided to be smart after finding out the weather forecast was rain/snow and temperatures around freezing. That usually spells I-C-E. And for those judging, I'm not a wimp! If it were dry and 30 degrees, I would definitely run outside. But why tempt disaster? I saved my morning run for an evening workout on the treadmill. I was so proud of myself. I even bragged about my decision on Facebook. Yes, I set up THE perfect recipe for disaster.

I should have known better -- pride usually goes before a fall. And I'm the Disaster Magnet. I walked (well, ran) RIGHT into that pitfall. And it's no coincidence to see the word "fall" twice.

The last time I fell on a treadmill was seven years ago in a hotel in Chicago in January. It was the first time I attempted to run with music, and I foolishly placed my iPod on a rack in front of me with the headphone cable running in front. Almost immediately, I crossed my arms in front of my body, hit the wire and sent the iPod flying. It landed on the side of the treadmill and I stopped to pick it up -- ON THE MOVING BELT. I ended up crumpled against the wall of the workout room (this was not a big place). Even though I was alone, I immediately looked around, more concerned with how silly I looked than if I was hurt.

Here comes the stupid part. I got up, put the iPod right back on the rack in front of me and told myself I would REMEMBER it was there and not cross my arms in front of my body again. But what happened? Just like great comedy, I did the exact same thing. Again. I sent the iPod flying... AND, I stopped to pick it up. AGAIN. ON THE MOVING BELT.

Crumpled against the wall a second time was enough to drive the lesson home. My iPod is now firmly attached to my body when I run on any treadmill. I learned to love the treadmill, with music, and I never had another disaster. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I learned what it's like to fall off a treadmill, not alone in the dark, but in the presence of a gym full of people. And it's not even a GOOD story. I can't say I was ogling some hot guy or challenging myself to run faster. My mind wandered, I stepped off the belt and I never recovered. After a stumble and fall that seemed to last forever, I was ejected off the back of the treadmill and into the elliptical machine behind me.

Ouch. That hurt. The 90-something-year-old guy on the eliptical machine never missed a stride: "are you ok? maybe you should sit down for a minute."

This was NOT happening. I did NOT just get told to take it easy by some ancient dude on an elliptical machine.

I looked at the guy next to him: "Did you see it happen?" His answer: "Oh yeah, I saw the whole thing [insert attempt not to chuckle]." (His expression reminded me of Jerry Seinfeld trying to keep a straight face when "Kramer" did something completely hilarious on their TV show.) I might mention he was ALSO on an elliptical machine.

OUCH. That hurt more than the injuries.

I got right back on my treadmill. The guy - walking - on the treadmill next to me said: "I've heard that people fall off these things, but I never actually saw someone do it!"

OUCH! Once more. I am NOW the idiot in this guy's hilarious story that starts with: "yeah, I saw someone fall off a treadmill once."

They even sent a gym staff member to keep an eye on me while I started back at my workout. He stayed there. For a WHILE. I wasn't giving in. I turned the treadmill up (I was going to continue my mile repeats). It was then I realized... heck, I am in LOT more pain than I thought. But I finished my workout in defiance.

And now my biggest problem is figuring out what part of my body actually NEEDS ICE. The left side or the right side. Or my wrist. Welcome to my world. It's one of irony. And just another typical day in the life of the Disaster Magnet.

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Go Running

Week 29 on my Ironman training schedule is also the first week of January -- in Cleveland, Ohio. Until this week I actually thought we might have a mild winter. But as they say in my business: none such animal!

It's a good thing I'm using my first few weeks of Ironman prep work to increase my number of weekly bike rides because getting out to run in the current weather is extremely frustrating. My workout time is compromised because of the time it takes to drive anywhere in the unrelenting ice and snow this week. And to complicate matters, my husband left town on a business trip, making me responsible for clearing the driveway snow (and it snowed over three inches every day this week).

Then, we've also had unrelenting temperatures in the teens and low 20s which, for me, makes any kind of outdoor exercise -- running, shoveling, making snow angels -- more exhausting. And I worry that it will only get worse with age (extra energy spent keeping warm). But I CAN say that, this year, I've relinquished my membership card to the wimp club by running outside if the temperature is 10 degrees F or above (last year it had to be 20F before I would venture out). And not snowing. Well, it can snow a LITTLE.

But with a nickname like Diaster Magnet, I am well indoctrinated to the hazards of running -- or walking -- on ice and snow. In February 2008, about two weeks after declaring it my triathlon "comeback year," I slipped on ice at work and landed on the lens of my digital SLR. I broke a back rib and sidelined my so-called "comeback" for several months. In the winter of 2009, my neighborhood sidewalks provided a platform for several more falls, complete with bloody gashes (and for the life of me, I still cannot figure out how landing on pavement can cut right through my running tights without any damage to the material). I was limping until spring.

So, why do I insist on running outside when I have a nice indoor track and treadmills at my local recreation center? I don't. But despite outdoor running perils, indoor running can be equally painful. Thus, I present my list of ten things to beware of when winter running, both inside and outside:

1. slipping on ice that isn't there (patches known as "black ice," these can also occur on non-black pavement)
2. dropping your iPod while on the treadmill, stopping to pick it up and getting launched off the back onto your butt or into a wall (in effect, paying the "stupid tax" -- embarrassingly, I did it twice during the same workout)
3. getting pelted by snow -- or ice -- in the eyes (do you know that annoying wet drizzle that you hate to run in? well this is the same thing except it's colder -- and it's in your EYES)
4. having to get up even earlier to run because your work commute time has more than doubled (this usually lasts for the first month of winter in Cleveland, then everyone either re-learns how to drive in it or just doesn't care anymore)
5. (corollary to number 4) having to dive into a snow bank because drivers only look out for SNOW when driving in the snow
6. fighting the gym rules to keep your treadmill for more than a 20-minute workout (for us OCD runners, 20 minutes barely constitutes a warm-up)
7. being reminded there are leg muscles that control side-to-side motion (also known as the "tennis syndrome," runners are rarely aware these muscles exist)
8. wearing out one hip joint while running in circles on a track that's too small for matchbox cars to drive comfortably on (and might I mention that my hips also seem to have gotten more ornery with age)
9. finding protection for your face because wearing those stupid masks makes it impossible to breathe (and, at my age, I can add: learning your skin does NOT bounce back every year)
10. constantly whacking my knuckles and hands on the treadmill console because it's just NOT natural

Happy winter running everyone, and beware the perils. I've not even begun my swimming this year, but I'm not worried -- I'm getting enough upper body training shoveling snow. Accumulation totals should be up to two feet by tomorrow.