Reality check weekend

I'll admit I underestimated this weekend's workout schedule.
We all spent the weekend at Indian Lake, where Mom and Dad were hosting a family reunion for Mom's side of the family.

Saturday I had a one-hour ride. I forgot to look up the purpose of this ride, so I headed out with my brother (see photo) and we rode it mostly easy with a few sections really pushing it. Then the party started, and I proceeded to eat a lot of stuff I don't normally eat. I'm talking about filling up a plate at the dessert table, and then going back for seconds -- of dessert.

Sunday was scheduled to be a big day, and luckily for me I didn't add up the total hours of straight exercise before it began. It ended up being almost eight hours in motion, counting the transitions and a water stop.
I decided in advance that I would move the whole three-sport workout block a bit later in the day, so that I could put myself through some heat, and also experience beginning my run in the late afternoon, as I will on race day. Normally my bikes and runs start at 6:30 a.m., so I haven't really gotten a lot of practice being out in the heat of the day, all day.

So I woke up Sunday, went to church with Mom and Dad, came home and ate breakfast. Before I actually sat down to eat, I went to pump up my tires and broke off part of the valve stem. That meant I needed to change the tube before starting my workout day. And it meant riding from Indian Lake to Columbus with no spare tube. I decided to eat breakfast first, then do a timed tire change to see how fast I am (while digesting my breakfast) and then head out for the swim.

It took me 12 minutes to change the tube, and that is with my easy wheels and my easy tires. Should I get a flat with my race wheels, it will take longer. But I'm not going to get a flat. No I am not. If I do, I will change it quickly and efficiently and get back on the road.

My brother was nice enough to offer to be my kayak escort for my 90-minute swim. Because it was a little later in the morning, and the air was warming up quickly compared to the water, we had some wind and a bit of chop.
Just what I was hoping for.

I haven't had many open water swims this year where I really had to battle waves, and I want to be ready for Lake Erie. (The photo on the right is from the morning before, when the water was much calmer.)

I did one lap around Tecumseh Island and Minnewauken Island together, and that put us at 50 minutes. One more lap around Tecumseh alone got me to 88 minutes and some seconds. Good enough for me. One family out in their lawn chairs did notice that Jim and I had come around twice and were asking Jim some questions. When I was breathing to his side, I saw him motioning and talking and popped up, in case he was talking to me. That's when I realized he was talking to the family, and they asked what I was training for. I told them and they wished me luck, which was cool.
Google Maps shows the distance I swam to be about 2.5 miles. So that's nice, but I was hoping for a better time. I did swim it with no wetsuit, so I'll be faster than that on race day, if conditions are similar. (My wetsuit is in San Francisco! Training buddy Nicole swam from Alcatraz wearing it!)

I climbed out of the water and went around the front of the house to my bike. I stopped inside the back door for my bottles of drink, my jersey, my heartrate monitor, and other odds and ends. My Clif bars, directions and notes written on index cards for all the major turns were already packed on the bike.

I said goodbye to everyone and set off. It was cool at first, since I was wet from the swim.

That didn't last long.

After an hour, all my cold drinks were warm, if not hot. But I was making good progress and having no problems with the navigation. No wrong turns. I stopped at the 35-mile mark in Raymond, Ohio, at the gas station and IGA that I passed up when I did the ride going the other direction several weeks ago. (See the first post on my training, back in June, entitled "UGH," which refers to that ride as my "worst ride ever.") I bought three 20-bottles of cold water, mixed up two fresh bottles of sports drink, poured my warm bottle of water on my head, and replaced it with cold.

One hour later, one bottle of sports drink was consumed and the other was disgustingly hot. Hot like a bottle of water you left in the car on a summer day, and reached for and took a sip before being unpleasantly reminded of just how hot it was in the car before you turned on the AC. The bottle of plain water was in my back center jersey pocket, and kind of a pain to remove and replace. Even though hot water sounded better than hot sports drink, I didn't bother to get it out. I kept trying to force myself to drink the hot sports drink, knowing I had a long run coming up. I made it through Marysville, and told myself I HAD to finish my second Clif bar before turning off Industrial Parkway to head into Dublin. I did manage that, but it was tough.

Once in Dublin, I really quit drinking anything. I still had an hour of riding, but it was in heavy traffic. That's really just an excuse, though. Actually I just couldn't bring myself to drink stuff that tasted hotter than my mouth and stomach. I took a salt tablet to make myself thirsty, and it did make me thirsty but I could still hardly choke anything down.

I did a good job of staying mentally alert, because the riding was difficult in the last hour. In the city, you have to watch for turning cars, people coming up beside you, broken glass in the road, debris, potholes, traffic lights, etc. It really makes you appreciate the cows and the cornfields!

I found a bit of a back route home, since my house is essentially off a freeway, and it really isn't safe to ride the last mile or so on the road that is most obvious. I ended up on the bike path for the last mile, and saw a nice family out for a ride with their daughter. I headed up the hill to the house, and as I was turning onto the court, David and the kids were heading out on a bike ride. (They had driven home from the lake in the car, of course.) They turned around and helped me get ready to run. I finished the bike in four hours and 23 minutes, about 45 minutes faster than the last time I did that ride in June. I am not counting in there the time I spent during the June ride lying in the grass near tears because of how terrible it was going. (My bike speedometer automatically stops the timer when the bike isn't moving.)

It was a pretty quick transition. I ran into the house to use the bathroom, but I was pretty speedy switching shoes, grabbing my Camelbak filled with water, and emptying my pockets of maps and water bottles. David said I stank. He usually doesn't comment, so I must have been pretty smelly. Later I figured out that I had some lake scum stuck in my top all day long from the swim. Nice.

When I started down the street, I felt like I was really plodding along. I didn't feel nice and quick like I felt off the bike last weekend after 120 miles. Today I had only done 71 miles, but it was about 10-15 degrees hotter. It seems like that makes all the difference. Still, when I looked at my watch, I was running my normal 9:30/mile pace. So that was comforting. I went down to the path and really had to battle some mental demons to avoid a walk break. I still felt very, very hot. I decided once I passed a certain landmark after a couple miles, I would give myself a reward. The bike path runs along a large creek (or small river). So I let myself go down to the edge and get some cool water on my skin. I washed it over my arms and legs, and that felt pretty good, but I was still hot. I scooped up water from the creek and threw it onto my shorts and shirt, and dipped my hat in it, too. That made a big difference. When I climbed back onto the path and started running again, I finally felt cool.

Until everything dried, about 15 minutes later.

The family I had seen when I was biking passed by again, going north.

I was still running the same pace, but feeling terrible. I had gone about 3.5 miles, and I felt like I was at mile 17 of the marathon. Not good. I told myself I could run as slow as I wanted, as long as I didn't walk. I was able to slow it down to about 10:15/mile, and that helped bring my heart rate down, as well. (Last week, I finally managed to get to the battery store and replace the battery in my heart rate monitor, which has been dead for two months.)

For a 90-minute run, the normal obvious time to turn around is 45 minutes. But this was a mental battle as well. I ran the first two or three miles at a faster pace, and I figured I wasn't going to suddenly speed up. So maybe I should turn around at 40 minutes. No, no. Then I would just be setting myself up to walk. I better turn around at 45 minutes, and if I'm not home after 90 minutes, that's my punishment for slowing down. Yes, but it's really hot and I feel terrible. OK, how about turning around at 44 minutes? I don't know. 42 seems like a good number. (Cue Eye of the Tiger lyrics in my head.)

This back-and-forth went on for a couple minutes. Sadly, I didn't recognize it and get it under control. But I did settle on 43 minutes. At 43 minutes, I gave myself another "creek bath" and turned around. The way back was not great, but at least I was heading home. I saw the same family AGAIN and stopped for a second to talk. They were out exploring, and they commented on my Camelbak. I complimented them on riding for such a long time, and went on my way. I looked at the mileage and imagined where I would be on the Ironman course. That was cool, until I realized I would only be in downtown Sandusky the FIRST TIME, and would still have to run the Causeway, see the finish, turn around, and go out again. Then it started to hit me how incredible hard this thing is going to be. It's going to take everything I have.

I reached my court at 88 minutes. I did not turn in. I ran another minute and a half down the street, bypassing my court. I turned around late to make sure I would have 90 minutes in before I reached home.

I did it.

I felt really terrible afterward, but my recovery (overall) from this workout has not been bad at all. Sunday night I couldn't eat a whole lot, and once I showered I just wanted to lie down. We had family dinner and I got the kids ready for bed and tucked in, and that was about all I had in me. I declared Monday a rest day from working out.

I expected to feel awful at work Monday, but in fact I felt pretty good. I would say this is the best my knee has felt since the crash. Walking down the stairs was very difficult Sunday night, but hardly noticeable Monday morning.

I guess that means I have a little more in me than that.

A return to the scene of the crash

Please forgive me for not having the presence of mind to take a photo of the spot where it happened.

My riding buddy Nicole and I did a very conservative ride today. She has a race Sunday and I am ... well, let's face it, I've been scared to get back on that bike trail. Sure, I had some meetings and conflicts, but mostly I was scared.

The weather and road conditions were perfect today, and we started later -- at 6:30 a.m. -- when the sun was really and truly [almost] up. There was another group going out at 6:15 to do the whole trail, but we stuck to our guns and decided to just make it a twosome.

The plan was to ride for 30 minutes and turn around and go back. Nicole needed to be at work at a certain time, and wanted time to get to the club and shower first. Right at 30 minutes we stopped, and I mentioned that I had been hoping to make it to the spot where I crashed. Nicole said, "Well then let's do it! Keep going!"

As it turned out, the crash scene was just around the next bend. We went past it, turned around, and came back through in the same direction I was going when it happened.

Being there helped me see what I did wrong.

Most of the bike trail is visually very skinny. The trees close in on the sides of the path, with just a few clearings. At this point in the trail, though, there is 30 or 40 feet of mowed grass on each side, and you can see all the way through the turn, even though it is a sharp one. That visual openness caused me to think the turn was not as sharp as it really was. It made me mentally take a break from paying attention to my cornering.

So ...
Another demon has been dispatched.
Vanquished.
Conquered.

Time to move on.

The End Is Near

I feel like I can see the crazy old man standing on the street corner with the sign.
Especially this morning, when I had to get up at 4:30 a.m., and despite that, still didn't get my complete workouts in.

I feel like everything is apocalyptic and of paramount importance; while simultaneously feeling like my training is really done now, and it probably wouldn't hurt anything to eat junk food and have a beer. It's a very strange place to be, mentally. I'm starting to lose my resolve with diet and workouts, but then I sit around going over my list of things to pack for my race for the 18th time.

Here is an even more insane example: Although I do not seem to have time to mow the lawn, I have made it a priority to memorize all the lyrics to Eye of the Tiger, so that I don't end up with the same two lines running through my head for 14 hours during the race.

Really, people. Maybe I am the crazy old coot on the corner with the sign.

OK, so here was my morning:
4:30 a.m. [alarm]
4:50 a.m. leave the house. Turn on Eye of the Tiger in the truck. Make sure I am anticipating all the lyrics. (Go ahead, laugh.)
5:10 a.m. Arrive at office to pick up my Road ID and my Garmin 305, which I want to have for my run, but carelessly left at work yesterday.
5:25 a.m. Arrive at Ward YMCA, east of downtown. Park. Stretch.
5:30 a.m. Run for one hour, mostly in Bexley. Manage to avoid getting lost.
6:30 a.m. Arrive back at the Ward YMCA with plans to swim for 75 minutes.
6:31 a.m. Notice the sign on the door stating the pool is closed this week for maintenance.
DAMMIT!
6:45 a.m. Arrive at downtown YMCA
6:46 a.m. Pay $6 to park (!?*&%$*?!)
6:50 a.m. Change into swimsuit and shower
7 a.m. Begin swimming in pool that is only 20 yards long instead of 25 yards long.
7:20 a.m. Check the clock. Hmm. Not done yet.
7:25 a.m. Check the clock again. Dang.
7:30 a.m. Get out and get a kick board and get back in.
7:40 a.m. Give up on annoying short pool and get in whirlpool for 5 minutes
7:45 a.m. Shower and get ready for work.

So I only really swam 40 minutes instead of 75. Partly I had to finish up early because of all the time wasted driving and parking. Partly I lost my resolve.

I think I am starting to miss working out with other people.

Knee update: I shouldn't have sat around all day Monday. It really stiffened up without a workout that day, even though it was an intentional day off. Tuesday's bike ride was OK. Today's run was not great. I had a lot of pain and stiffness, but this was my longest run since the crash, and the first time I tried running first thing in the morning, instead of after a swim or bike session.

One bike. One rider. 120 miles.

I purposely didn't make a big effort to invite folks to ride with me today. I was worried I would have a repeat of last weekend, when I had to bail after 40 miles.

So at 6:30 a.m., I set out alone, my back jersey pockets stuffed with energy bars, an extra water bottle, my phone, a map, and sports drink mix. I don't think I've done a single long ride alone this year, unless you count the big section of the Rev3 course where I was by myself last month.

It was overcast and cool. Perfect riding weather.

The first 25 miles were a little rough. My pace was fine, but the wind was in my face and my mind was filled with doubt.

Somewhere near Johnstown, I decided I felt fine and I was going to do this whole thing, and do it myself. No cheating. No shortcuts. Two rest stops.

The rest of the ride was pretty unremarkable. I was able to keep my effort consistent. In fact, I picked up the pace the last 30 miles. The roads were wet in places, and it sprinkled a few times, but that was no big deal. I trust my bike again, and I trust myself.

The only problem I had was when I stopped at a stop sign, and didn't have any wind to dry the sweat off my forehead, and the salt started stinging my eyes. But that was really the worst of it. I was still attacking hills at mile 90 and mile 100.
I was singing and smiling at mile 112.

I pulled onto the court and performed my signature flying dismount without any problems. My knee was a NONFACTOR today.

David encouraged me to go back out for a short 15-minute transition run to get the feel of having my legs under me after such a long ride. That went really well, too, although my run pace (as usual) was too fast off the bike and I couldn't bring it down. Oh well.

FYI, the first photo was taken 40 miles into the ride. The beach was totally deserted.
Fast forward a few hours to mile 100. The place was packed!

Best pickup line ever

Alright, in order to relate this story, I have to cover a bike geek vocabulary word.

Sag wagon = [noun] A car or truck that provides mechanical and other support to cyclists during a group ride.
Sag = [verb] To provide support to cyclists on an organized ride

I was riding along alone on S. Old State Road, heading north. This is the busiest traffic section of the ride, and I was staying dutifully on the white line wherever possible. Cars were passing without incident. Then I heard a car coming up really slowly, and it slowed to my pace right beside me, in my lane. I thought maybe I was going to get harassed, but I could see a decal on the car out of the corner of my eye, and thought maybe it was the state park police or something. I didn't want to turn my head to read it, because the car was REALLY close.

Passenger says, "How is your ride going?"

I say, "Great. I'm 42 miles in."

Passenger says, "Great! Would you like a Clif bar?

I glance over and the guy is holding a Clif bar out the window to me.

I grinned and said, "Wow, this is the best thing ever! Yeah, thanks!"
I stuck my hand out and he carefully placed the bar in my hand.

I finally was able to read the car, and it said, "Sunday Morning Sag" and had pictures of bicycles on it.

Me: "Hey, who are you sagging for?"
Guy: "You."
(wink)
[Vroom]
They drove off.

How amazing is that???

I don't know who these guys are, but if I were single, that would have been an awesome pickup line!

Stats

BIKE:

6h 52m 19s

120.02 miles

17.47 Mi/hr

Avg HR: 122
Max HR: 170

RUN:

16m 26s

1.86 miles

08m 50s/Mi

Avg HR: 160
Max HR: 172

Back to my roots

All this injury recovery has me working out alone, which is what I always did before this year. It's good to get back to it.

I ran for the first time today since the accident. That is, if you don't count the 1-minute run I attempted on Thursday. I did an hour walk, and at 45 minutes, I tried to start running. It did not go well. Lots of pain and stiffness, and no power from that leg.

Talk about demoralizing. A week and a half ago, I ran for three hours. Then Thursday I struggled to run for one minute.

That's what made it so awesome when I ran for 30 minutes Saturday. It felt so good! I ran fast and smooth and it felt almost like nothing was wrong.

I had forgotten how much running is part of who I am. Swimming and cycling both came about later, when I decided to try triathlons. But running has always been with me. Even in elementary school, when I was terrible at most of the sports offered (ball sports) I always could run. In high school, I tried to do basketball, but the only part I was good at was the conditioning before the season started. (The running and weightlifting.)

I finally wised up and figured out the running was my thing, and joined the track team.

In college and as an adult, I didn't always run consistently, but there was never a time when I couldn't just head out the door and finish a three-mile run. Well, maybe when I was nine months pregnant I couldn't. But other than that, I've always been able to run, even after a long break from it.

I don't think I realized how much my identity was wrapped up in it until I couldn't do it for a week. I can't imagine how people cope who are told they can't ever run again after an injury.

Anyway, the great thing about that week off was discovering the sheer joy of running again: that amazing and unlikely ability we humans have to get two legs under our big selves and somehow propel ourselves forward smoothly without falling over.

It really is something.

I feel like me again.

Oh yeah, I also swam

I swam Alum Creek for 1.5 hours this morning. E. coli warnings be darned. It's one of the few options left. The pool is way too boring for me to do laps for 90 minutes, and I was looking to practice in a little bit of chop. The quarry is covered in scum, and some college kids were cliff diving Friday and one didn't come back up. The police/fire dive team pulled his body out around sunrise Friday. It shouldn't effect me swimming there, but it does a little bit, mentally at least.

Anyway, here's Alum Creek Beach when I arrived:









And here's another photo after the sun came up:

Well, that's just about enough feeling sorry for myself

OK, well that was a nice few days of moping around.

That's over now.

I need to do more stretching and moving my knee during the day. It's worst when I am just sitting around for a long time. It stiffens up, even with ice on it regularly. I saw Doc at swimming today and he said to suck it up and bend it, even if it's uncomfortable. I didn't damage it from overuse or pulling a tendon/ligament. It was a blow, just like if I hit my arm on something. I'm not helping myself trying to limit mobility.

So here's my plan:

Hourly: Get up, stretch, bend it as far as I can. Do a few SLOW squats. Go up and down the stairs 2-3 times. Then ice.
Every four hours: Ibuprofen and some gentle massage of knee area.

I figured out what I hit my knee on. When the front wheel and handlebars flipped over as I was skidding, my knee connected with the flat metal piece that the elbow pad is mounted on. See the curved elbow pads in the picture? There's a metal piece underneath the padding that anchors them and follows the same contour - that's what I hit, I'm pretty sure. I think I was skidding and my knee was coming up toward my chest right when the front wheel caught the grass and the whole front end flipped. That must have been when my knee connected with the metal. I have a horizontal mark on my knee, with almost no abrasion, so the shiny metal fits the bill for a suspect.

Nancy Kerrigan had the best performance of her life seven weeks after suffering a severe striking blow to the knee from a metal baton.

I can do it in 3.5 weeks.

Watch me.

Words of encouragement

I remain angry and sullen, so much so that it is coming through in my emails to the training group.

I sent out the following last night:

Subject: RE: anyone for 3 Creeks tomorrow?

So sorry.
As it turns out, I am going to be wallowing in self-pity right at 6:15 a.m. tomorrow, so I can't make it.

In return, I received these kind gems:

its ok...shit happens.....you'll be better and stronger for it in the long run and your training won't get too f'd up in fact it might even do you some good...you've been hitting it pretty hard lately right!?!

And:

Good luck Alice, we'll be around, keep us posted on what you may need.

And:

It wasn't built in a couple weeks and you won't lose it in a couple weeks. You will benefit from the rest, and possibly lose a little speed, but should be able to get it back quickly. Hang tough! It's in you.

And:

No wallowing. Just find the means to get better and stick to it. You will be fine. This is just a sign you needed a little break for your race. Hang tough...eye o the tiger!!!

It's good to have friends.

I did 1:15 on the trainer this morning followed by a 30-minute WALK. Ugh, walking on purpose sucks. I have to do an hour walk later in the week before I'm allowed to try a 20-minute run.

It was very humbling after having a terrific 3-hour run just a little more than a week ago.

It's hard to not feel like it's slipping away.

But I have to turn this around mentally, too. Sulking does not produce healing hormones in the bloodstream.

Meet the new plan

David was kind enough to sit down with me tonight and tear apart the remaining four weeks of my training plan and figure out something that will work.

I have a new plan for this week, which will replace all my usual group workouts that will certainly tempt me to do things I shouldn't do yet with my knee still hurting.

Tuesday: Bike an hour and 15 minutes on the trainer. Walk 30 minutes fast.
Wednesday: Swim an hour and 30 minutes.
Thursday: Bike an hour and 30 minutes on the trainer. Walk one hour fast. (This is going to stink because I need to be at work at 7:45 a.m. this day.)
Friday: Bike two hours on the trainer.
Saturday: Swim an hour and 30 minutes. Attempt to run 20 minutes if my walk experiences have been good.
Sunday: If everything was good so far, bike 6 hours.

This means I am NOT going up to Cedar Point Saturday. Good thing I already went twice.

Adrift

I hate to compare a little bike crash to a major life loss, but since late last week I've been running through the stages of grief.

Thursday I was in denial, telling people I'd be back at it the next day. That was a pipe dream.

Once I realized I wasn't going to be back to normal right away, I was mad. Mad at myself for making such a stupid, preventable mistake right during the most crucial time when I can't afford to do something like that.

I skipped the bargaining stage in favor of drinking at a wedding. Wow, my knee felt great! :-)

Yesterday I was sad. Just plain sad. I was feeling adrift without being able to follow my training plan. My wounds seemed too raw to swim. I rode for an hour Saturday to test things out and felt OK trying for 120 miles on Sunday. But I bailed out at mile 40. My knee was swelling up and my arm was too uncomfortable on the aero bars. I had bandages on and a sock over it, but after a couple hours I realized I was actually not weighting that arm evenly, and it was causing me issues on my right side, too. Mostly it was knee pain, though. I was blessed that four out of five people I was expecting for the bike ride backed out at the last minute. The ride was leaving from my house on my route with me leading, and it would have been harder to end it early with five people counting on me. Instead I just disappointed one person. Well, two if you include me. I've never come back from a ride needing to put away uneaten Clif bars; needing to pour out full water bottles. It was highly unsatisfying.

Today, after hearing from a couple people that I really didn't need to worry too much about my arm getting infected from swimming, I headed to the quarry. There were just three of us, and the swim felt good. I finally felt like I could still make some forward progress, at least in one of the three disciplines.

I'm not going to run until I can walk pain-free. It might be a few more days. I'm going to keep the cycling to 1.5 hours or less. I might do it more frequently to make up for missed running and long rides.

Hopefully I'll be back to 100 percent by the Cedar Point training day this Saturday.

If my knee isn't feeling better by tomorrow, I might cut back on the short cycling, too, and just try total rest for my legs. Saturday will be a key workout that I don't want to miss.

In other news, our best friends were married Saturday! Jeremy and Judith tied the knot under a big white tent in a rainstorm. After they said, "I do," this gorgeous rainbow appeared in the sky behind them. It was magical. I'm not much of a wedding crier. In fact, I'm not much of a crier at all. But I was pretty much a blubbering mess. I'm so happy for them!

Rest day

David talked some sense into me and I didn't do my 3-sport, 4-hour workout today.
Maybe tomorrow.
However, a friend was supposed to meet me this morning for his first quarry swim, and I forgot to tell him I wasn't showing up. Sigh. Now I am the jerk who stands people up at the quarry.

Update:
Arm = gross and a little painful, but nothing too deep.
Leg = more bruising than I thought. Very light scrapes.
Knee = There's almost a puncture or something. I can't really figure out what happened there. But Doc drained some fluid off the knee yesterday afternoon, which made it feel better and bend more. Between that and putting ice on it, it's coming along.

The blog post I hoped I would not have to write. (Crash)

Well darnit, things were going along perfectly well until my peak training phase and guess what? That's when I got cocky and took a turn too hard on the path.

I was heading into a 90 degree turn on the Three Creeks bike path. Going maybe 15mph. Maybe faster.
It was a dumb mistake.

One minute I was going into the corner. The next I could hear the sound of my bike scraping against the asphalt, and the feeling of my upper arm sliding along. My helmet/head never touched the ground.

My knee must have bounced off the pavement or something, because I don't have a ton of abrasion on my knee/leg, but my knee really hurts and I'm limping when I walk.

So it was a real ego check. I have gotten really confident on that path. Too confident.
It had rained over night, and the pavement was wet in spots.
I took the far outside line on the turn. (Another rider took the inside.)
The back wheel just didn't have enough traction. I may have been leaning too far, instead of leaning the bike and keeping my body more upright. Mostly it was a combination of turning and wet pavement and a little gravel at the edge. I was NOT braking and turning at the same time. I know better than that.

The bike is miraculously unscathed. The horrible, horrible scraping sound I heard was just the outside of the pedal. (As far as I have been able to see so far.) Somehow my legs are skinny enough to fit in the space between the pedal and the frame when everything is on the ground. I have only very light abrasions on my calf and thigh. My arm/shoulder has a lot of "road rash," (code for scraped and bloodied) but it's OK.

I jumped right up, but then reality started to set in, as well as adrenaline and all those other chemicals that start flying around your body when you get hurt. I was lucky enough to have an M.D. along on the ride. But I had another 7-8 miles of riding to get back to the one person's house and get cleaned up and bandaged. I think I looked pretty tough, riding along with blood running down my leg, and blood on my arm and shoulder.

I am concerned about how many key, key ironman workouts I may lose during this peak training phase due to my knee. But I'm also feeling lucky it wasn't worse.

Doc says there's fluid on my knee which I can either let dissipate or he can drain it off for me. I know how that procedure is done, and I get weak and lightheaded just thinking about it. However, it might be a good option. I don't want to have to miss my big training day tomorrow and my bike 120-mile ride Sunday.

From my kids:

Nora: "Mom, why didn't you follow the rule about slowing down before you turn?"

Me: "Well, usually I can turn while I'm going that fast. But the bike path was a little wet from the rain."

Michael: "That's too bad, Mom. You should have waited for the rain to dry up first."

(Sigh.)

My bike ride did not suffer

After Saturday's run, I was concerned about my ability to execute my key bike ride today.

My cycling did not suffer.

110 miles.
18 mph average speed.

So there.

PLUS, I can still walk down the stairs at home.

It's all in my head

Two weeks ago, I had a long run of 2.5 hours. I ran it at a pace of 10 minutes and 23 seconds per mile. Anything slower than 10 minutes per mile is fairly slow for me, but long runs are supposed to be nice and slow. You're not supposed to kill yourself and fry your legs. You're definitely not supposed to go so hard that you can't finish the amount of time you are supposed to run, according to your training plan.

Today, I started out for a 3-hour run.
It was 5:30 a.m. and quite dark.
I thought about starting out at my usual, plodding, long-run pace.
Then I thought, "Hmmm, I wonder what would happen if I didn't do that?"
There's no time like the present to experiment. I really only have a few more really long workouts left this season during which I can experiment and see what happens.

I was also thinking about my running in general. Over short distances, I can keep up a pretty quick pace. When I know I have a long, long run, I tend to go very slowly. It makes sense. But a couple people over the years have asked why my marathon times are so slow. "You are in great shape. You could go faster than that," they would say. And I would think, "Sure, I can go faster. But not over 26 miles! I'd never finish!"

But when have I ever not finished?
Never.
I've never not finished.
I always hold something back.
Always.

Think about Muncie. I didn't even really run on the run. I was just sort of plodding along, making sure nothing bad happened.

I've thought about this before, of course. I even read a recent article about a study where they had athletes exercise to exhaustion. Then immediately after that, they had them do one more minute as hard as they could, and they were able to go even harder during that minute. Which shows they really could have gone longer before "exhaustion." You can do some amazing stuff if you know you only have to do it for one minute. It's thinking about time stretching out before you with no end in sight that really makes you hedge your bets.

But what really brought it home for me was one of my training buddy's performances in his last half-iron race.
We train at the same speed.
I train probably twice as many hours as he does.
My half-iron time was 5:50. His was 5:30. Our swims and bikes were pretty similar.
So what gives?
He isn't afraid to run on the run. That's what.

So I decided today, I would not be afraid. I would not think about mile 17 while I was still running mile 2. I would just think about mile 2.

So that's what I did. I kept my core tight and my footfalls quick. I thought about the present. I did not think about how I might feel two hours from now.

And guess what? I ran pretty darn quickly, and didn't have any problem continuing at that pace for the whole three hours.

At mile 14, which was the farthest I had gone so far this year, I clocked a 9-minute, 10 second mile. That made me grin. In fact, I even shouted, "Yeah, that's right" out loud to myself on the path.

Instead of the 16-17 miles I would have managed in the three hours at my old pace, I finished 19 miles.
19 miles!
You know, if I had kept going for another hour (which I felt like I could have...) that would be a 4-hour marathon! Are you kidding? My best marathon time is 4:30.

To be fair in comparing this to my run of two weeks ago, it was MUCH cooler this morning than during that run. And I had an excellent night's sleep. But still, it was a great day today.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up for a great Ironman run, but on the other hand....
I AM getting my hopes up for a great Ironman run.

An explanation of how I became obsessed with triathlon

I've been doing local triathlons since about 2000. I never contemplated iron distance, or even made the time to do well enough to finish better than average. I finished my sprint distance races in an hour and 40 minutes or so. I would occasionally reach and do an Olympic distance, and was always slower than three hours for that. That was in 2004.

So what happened in the meantime? I guess it has to do with becoming a mom.

I think women with kids experience something when the children are very young that amounts to the subversion of self. It is expected. It is required. It is ultimately natural that a mother provide the food, comfort and care for her babies to survive and thrive. From pregnancy, through childbirth and breastfeeding, she gives her whole body and mind over to it.

Nothing about raising kids is measurable. There are no goals that you reach for each day, other than trying not to raise your voice, and making it another day without them pulling furniture down on their heads. It can be draining over time for a results-oriented person.

Finding something "selfish" that provides self esteem, time to think, a beautiful body, and clear, measurable progress is really like the opposite of caring for children.

Sometimes the pendulum swings hard.

My kids are now 3 and 5. Fortunately my husband is also a triathlete, so we worked out a plan about three years ago. We each wanted to complete an ironman at some point in our lives. It seemed life was only going to get more complex as the kids entered school and began their own activities. If we waited for that period to end, who knows if we would both be in good enough health, or have the time or resources to do it? A lot can happen in 15 years. So last year David made Ironman his goal, and his workouts took priority over mine, and I basically took the kids every weekend while he did long training rides and runs. He went out of a town a few times to practice on the course.

This year is my year.

I mostly train from sunrise until my workday starts, so the kids are asleep and I'm not missing anything at home. Dinner hour and bedtime are sacred and I don't miss them. My long bike ride day is a big deal. I miss the kids and David. They miss me. We attend triathlon races as a family, but on my training days at Cedar Point I lose a whole day with them.

I'm now in my last three weeks of building up before I start to taper my hours and efforts before the race. My mental focus is acute. All I want to think about and talk about is triathlon. I am not mentally balanced right now, for sure, but my performance is really great and I love the way I feel. Love it. Things will settle down after the race. I'm going back to short course because I feel the long weekend training is not fair to the kids. But I really want to accomplish this dream this year.

I think the important thing is that David and I (and the kids, actually) talked all this out ahead of time. And there is light at the end of the tunnel for him and the kids. For me, it will probably be somewhat of a letdown, and I will start being obsessive about something else. Perhaps Nora's birthday cupcakes for her kindergarten class!

Rain canceled the group ride today, so I set up the trainer in the garage.
I hadn't planned out a trainer workout, so I figured I'd just listen to music and ride.

Here's what I came up with:

Billy Joel Interval Workout

Play only Billy Joel on MP3 player.
Adjust pedal cadence to match the beat of each song or variations in each song (i.e. Ballad of Brenda and Eddie within Scenes From an Italian Restaurant).
Shift gears with each cadence change to keep the speed steady.
(Fast song = high cadence, spin fast; Slower song = grind big gear hard)

It passed the time!

I also was able to watch the garbage truck come, and our neighbor rush out and get his garbage can in place in the nick of time. Everyone has their own ways to get their heart rates up!

Riding hard with no air passing over you is definitely hot, though! (See sweat. See sweat drip. Drip, sweat, drip!)

Circumstances you can't control

I have been reading, highlighting, and re-reading a book called "Going Long" about training for an ironman race.
One of the things they talk about for race day is dealing with setbacks. It says you can't control the weather; you can't control whether you get a flat tire; you can't control the people around you. All you can do is assess the situation, come up with possible solutions, choose one, and do it. Then move on.

I tried to keep that in mind today.

Background: I have my next two weeks of training VERY carefully scheduled. Things are getting really busy. Our best friends are getting married in a couple weeks. I have an out-of-town training conference for work. And we have the usual family commitments, in addition to David's college stuff. So I don't really have any wiggle room. If I have a swim scheduled for 6 a.m. and I can't do it at 6 a.m., I am out of luck. Scratching a workout is really not an option at this point, either. Every one is pretty important to my overall success.

So I arrive at the quarry at 5:46 a.m. The guy I had planned to meet does not. (All the regulars were taking the day off after a big race over the weekend.)
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Nothing.
Walked down to the water.
No one.
Contemplated for one second swimming alone.
Thought about my kids.
Walked back up the hill.
Now the sun is up.
Went back to my truck, changed into my running shoes and did my 30 minute run.
Now it's 6:45 and I'm thinking perhaps some people will show up to swim at 7 a.m. (Sometimes there's a later group.)
Nope.
So I drove 15 minutes to the Y, swam 55 minutes, and still made it to work only a couple minutes late.

I owe myself 5 minutes added onto another swim this week, but I should be able to make that up.

Assess the situation, come up with possible solutions, choose one, and do it. Then move on.

And maybe, just maybe, send an email to the absentee person later.