It's a drizzly, overcast Wednesday morning and I'm just now drying out from my rain-ridden ride this morning. The weather today is eerily similar to how it was in Wichita last Saturday. I'm finding myself reminiscing about the race last weekend as I'm stuck in this under-stimulating compliance training. Grand images of the best race I've had to date fill my head as the voices in the room dull to a faint buzz. I look up occasionally to make eye-contact with the presenter, but my mind is really consumed with that morning just a few days ago.
I rolled into Afton Park at 3 in the morning. It was still pitch-black outside as my headlights pierced into the tents that outlined the shore line of the lake. I slowly rolled into the designated parking lot and parked underneath a tree at the corner of the lot. As the slight rumble from my exhaust desisted, I could hear the faint chirp of the wilderness and the calm rustle of leaves that pronounced a storm was rolling in. I was just in time to sleep for a few more hours before I made final preparations. An hour later, the distinct ting of rain droplets crashing onto metal woke me from my brief slumber. I rolled up my windows and slept for a few more hours as the thunderstorms rolled in. At 6, the parking lot began to fill with athletes and the skies continued to unload waves upon waves of furious rain drops. Angry flashes of lightning streaked through the air, as though trying to prohibit the impending sunrise that was pushing through on the horizon. The parking lot continued to fill as the waves of rain began to settle into a slight drizzle. I opened my car door and stepped into the cool morning air. I slowly unloaded my bike, still dripping from the rainstorm, and made my way to the transition area. As I had become accustomed to during the previous weeks, I meticulously placed my gear on the end spot I had reserved. The sky continued to break into a colorful array of blues, pinks, oranges and yellows. Further off, in the opposite horizon, dark storm clouds still loomed in the distance. The battle between weather conditions struck me as appropriate for this morning and I was pleased that sunlight was winning. I grinned at myself as I finished stretching.
The crack of the starting gun came sooner than I expected, but paled in comparison to the thunder that had recently reverberated through our small corner of the lake. The air was so calm that I could hear the lapping of water caused from the mob of swimmers. I smoothly made my way down the shore line, falling comfortably into the back half of the group. At the turnaround mark, I snuck a peak at my watch: 8:00 minutes. Right on schedule. I felt surprisingly strong on the way back and picked up the pace to salvage as decent of a swim finish as I could. I exited the water at 15:30 and made my way up the long, carpeted path to the transition area. I was still breathing heavily as lake water continued to drip from my nose and brows. I was on my bike in record time for me and starting pushing immediately. I wove through slower bike traffic and was determined to make this bike count. I could feel my uniform continue to dry as I slipped through the air. My legs pumped steadily as I made my way through the field, clipping off stronger swimmers one at a time. The route had long, gradual hills, which accommodated my biking style wonderfully. I finished the bike in 33 minutes, a full minute faster than I had just the week previous. Now the true testament came...the run.
I slipped out of my bike gear and struggled w/ my shoes momentarily, swearing to switch to pull laces for my next race. I made my way onto the course, dripping w/ sweat and concentrated on my stomach...nothing. No waves of nausea, no gut-wrenching cramps. I picked up the pace and could feel small twinges in my left calf and right quad, warning me to not push any harder with the threat of a cramp lying just a step ahead. I continued to pass slower runners, although at a much slower rate. I was pleased that I was just able to keep pace and not lose ground again during the run, the event I used to rule. The overcast sky and cooler temperature, coupled w/ the absence of breakfast must've allowed my mid section to remain loose and I was thrilled about it. I pushed as hard as I could as I was passed for the first and only time during the bike and run. The 25 year-old that I had held off during the bike had finally overtaken me between the first and second mile. An older competitor that we had just past encouraged me to attack and stick just behind the runner. I obliged as long as I could, but watched him slowly slip away. I rounded the corner at the 2.5 mile mark and could see my target lying in the horizon...a large red arch, w/ very distinct white letters that spelled out "finish", faintly visible over the treetops. I picked up the pace, determined to leave everything on the course this time. And that I did. I crossed the finish line in an exasperation and looked down at my watch: 1:12:30.
This was a longer race than the week previous, but I had still managed to cut 4 minutes from my time. I felt incredible...exhausted, but overjoyed. I did the math for each of my splits and paces. The swim was my fastest pace yet, I met my goal of 22 mph for the bike, and was finally able to maintain 7-minute miles for the run. I FINALLY hit my times and was absolutely thrilled! I've graduated from sprint distances this year, as my next race is an olympic distance at the end of August. I am ready though. My confidence is high. This is still just the beginning.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
unexpected results
Here it is, incredibly early Friday morning, and I'm getting ready to go for an easy ride before my next triathlon. That feels good to say...my next triathlon.
I began my comeback tour at SMP last weekend and it went wonderfully. I wasn't quite sure what exactly to expect...after all, it had been half a decade since I formally competed at this level. The last time I participated in an endeavor like this, I was at the peak of my physical performance as a division 1 college athlete. The last time, I had been training for the past 8 years and was in excellent shape. This time, although active, I had only been training specifically for a tri for a matter of months. But, I was very pleasantly surprised by the results.
The morning of came just like any other morning. I surprisingly got a good night's sleep. The temperature was a little brisk for an early July morning. I walked out the door and the hairs on my arms instantly reacted to the slight, chilly breeze. I lifted the recently polished road bike on to the back of my car, grabbed my backpack that I had situated the night before and made my way on the all-so-familiar route to the park. My mind raced and my eyes opened a little wider as I came upon the sea of parked cars. I had forgotten how big of an event this was! I unloaded my bike and coasted the easy downhill route to the transition area. Thankfully, the tire pressure held this time. It was going to be a great morning.
I made my way to section II and found my area marked by the little 985 taped to the bike rack. I hung my bike and very maticulously placed everything in my backpack on a towel in my new 2'x3' home. My mind continued to race as I made my way to get my timing chip and to get marked. A very calm buzz filled the air as athletes of all ages made final preparations and warmed up for their various heats. I made my way back to my area to check out my competition, constantly stealing glances at the back of athletes' calves to see if their marking distinguished them as in my age bracket. I also looked for the absense of leg hair, a tell-tale sign of a more serious and prepared athlete. My legs were bare.
I made my way down to the marina ramp, put on my swim cap and goggles, and swam over to the starting area, exerting only a minimal amount of energy. I needed to be fresh for the swim- that's what I was going to struggle with. A calm, quiet, almost unnerving mob of athletes awaited me on the beach, slightly bobbing up and down in the gentle waves of SM lake. The sun rising on the horizon cast reflections on the lake that loomed in front of me. I had to squint to see the bright orange buoys that marked the course I was about to embark upon...they seemed further out than I remembered. And so the countdown began, but there was only one thing present in my mind: one hour, one hour, one hour, one hour, GO!
The swim started smoother than I expected, calmly making sure I kept a consistent stroke, breath, and path. At the quarter and three quarter mark I crossed paths w/ other swimmers, inadvertly getting kicked or hit, causing me to break stride and find a clearing through the now choppy lake. I peaked at my watch as I struggled down the homestretch of the swim and saw that I was in the 7th minute. I was just about on pace and the math I did internally helped me clear my mind of the pain my arms and legs felt. I exited the water at about 11:30, just a bit off my pace. I knew I needed to make this transition count and that I could also make up time on the bike. Uphills seem worst when they follow such an exhausting swim, but I would soon prove that wrong.
I made it to my bike, threw my cap and goggles on the ground, jumped into my cleats, snapped on my helmet, and ran towards the bike route, just as I had practiced so many times before. I didn't recognize it at the time, but not too many bikes were already gone, an excellent sign of my position. It took a couple minutes to get my legs back underneath me, but I soon found my pace as I wove through the packs of riders. The ride felt amazing, which was soon validated as I cruised through the first lap checkpoint 20 seconds before I expected to. I pushed through the second lap and arrived at the second transition 30 seconds faster than I anticipated. I slipped out of my shoes as I was slowing for the dismount and jumped off my bike to run and grab my flats. The next sight was one of the proudest moments I've had in a while...I turned the corner towards section II and the entire bike rack was empty. I was exhausted, but I couldn't fight the smug grin that grew on my face. I had beat my entire rack through the bike.
A minute later I was on the running trail, back on time, but something didn't feel right. My entire upper body had stiffened throughout the ride and it was a struggle to breath. I relaxed the best I could until I got to the hill at the dam. I hadn't prepared for this- traversing up such a steep incline when my entire body already ached of exhaustion. I struggled my way up the hill, slowly picking one heavy leg up and placing in shortly in front of the other, made it through the first water station and started to feel a little better. I picked up the pace, determined to keep my 7-minute mile pace, but my abdomen told me otherwise. Every time I pushed a little harder, my stomach felt nauseated, and I was forced to slow. I made it through the back trails at SMP and watched the hour mark slip by as I made the last incline just before the finish line.
I finished in 1:00:57, 40th overall and 4th in my age group. Not horrible given that the race included 205 athletes. I missed my ultimate goal by a little over 3 minutes, but just missed the hour mark I was shooting for by :57. Still, not horrible concerning I took 7 minutes off my time from 5 years ago. But, this is just the beginning. This is just the beginning of a very long, yet prosperous comeback tour that awaits me. Lawerence is in two days, and Wichita follows the week after. I am ready. I am confident. I will hit my times this weekend.
I began my comeback tour at SMP last weekend and it went wonderfully. I wasn't quite sure what exactly to expect...after all, it had been half a decade since I formally competed at this level. The last time I participated in an endeavor like this, I was at the peak of my physical performance as a division 1 college athlete. The last time, I had been training for the past 8 years and was in excellent shape. This time, although active, I had only been training specifically for a tri for a matter of months. But, I was very pleasantly surprised by the results.
The morning of came just like any other morning. I surprisingly got a good night's sleep. The temperature was a little brisk for an early July morning. I walked out the door and the hairs on my arms instantly reacted to the slight, chilly breeze. I lifted the recently polished road bike on to the back of my car, grabbed my backpack that I had situated the night before and made my way on the all-so-familiar route to the park. My mind raced and my eyes opened a little wider as I came upon the sea of parked cars. I had forgotten how big of an event this was! I unloaded my bike and coasted the easy downhill route to the transition area. Thankfully, the tire pressure held this time. It was going to be a great morning.
I made my way to section II and found my area marked by the little 985 taped to the bike rack. I hung my bike and very maticulously placed everything in my backpack on a towel in my new 2'x3' home. My mind continued to race as I made my way to get my timing chip and to get marked. A very calm buzz filled the air as athletes of all ages made final preparations and warmed up for their various heats. I made my way back to my area to check out my competition, constantly stealing glances at the back of athletes' calves to see if their marking distinguished them as in my age bracket. I also looked for the absense of leg hair, a tell-tale sign of a more serious and prepared athlete. My legs were bare.
I made my way down to the marina ramp, put on my swim cap and goggles, and swam over to the starting area, exerting only a minimal amount of energy. I needed to be fresh for the swim- that's what I was going to struggle with. A calm, quiet, almost unnerving mob of athletes awaited me on the beach, slightly bobbing up and down in the gentle waves of SM lake. The sun rising on the horizon cast reflections on the lake that loomed in front of me. I had to squint to see the bright orange buoys that marked the course I was about to embark upon...they seemed further out than I remembered. And so the countdown began, but there was only one thing present in my mind: one hour, one hour, one hour, one hour, GO!
The swim started smoother than I expected, calmly making sure I kept a consistent stroke, breath, and path. At the quarter and three quarter mark I crossed paths w/ other swimmers, inadvertly getting kicked or hit, causing me to break stride and find a clearing through the now choppy lake. I peaked at my watch as I struggled down the homestretch of the swim and saw that I was in the 7th minute. I was just about on pace and the math I did internally helped me clear my mind of the pain my arms and legs felt. I exited the water at about 11:30, just a bit off my pace. I knew I needed to make this transition count and that I could also make up time on the bike. Uphills seem worst when they follow such an exhausting swim, but I would soon prove that wrong.
I made it to my bike, threw my cap and goggles on the ground, jumped into my cleats, snapped on my helmet, and ran towards the bike route, just as I had practiced so many times before. I didn't recognize it at the time, but not too many bikes were already gone, an excellent sign of my position. It took a couple minutes to get my legs back underneath me, but I soon found my pace as I wove through the packs of riders. The ride felt amazing, which was soon validated as I cruised through the first lap checkpoint 20 seconds before I expected to. I pushed through the second lap and arrived at the second transition 30 seconds faster than I anticipated. I slipped out of my shoes as I was slowing for the dismount and jumped off my bike to run and grab my flats. The next sight was one of the proudest moments I've had in a while...I turned the corner towards section II and the entire bike rack was empty. I was exhausted, but I couldn't fight the smug grin that grew on my face. I had beat my entire rack through the bike.
A minute later I was on the running trail, back on time, but something didn't feel right. My entire upper body had stiffened throughout the ride and it was a struggle to breath. I relaxed the best I could until I got to the hill at the dam. I hadn't prepared for this- traversing up such a steep incline when my entire body already ached of exhaustion. I struggled my way up the hill, slowly picking one heavy leg up and placing in shortly in front of the other, made it through the first water station and started to feel a little better. I picked up the pace, determined to keep my 7-minute mile pace, but my abdomen told me otherwise. Every time I pushed a little harder, my stomach felt nauseated, and I was forced to slow. I made it through the back trails at SMP and watched the hour mark slip by as I made the last incline just before the finish line.
I finished in 1:00:57, 40th overall and 4th in my age group. Not horrible given that the race included 205 athletes. I missed my ultimate goal by a little over 3 minutes, but just missed the hour mark I was shooting for by :57. Still, not horrible concerning I took 7 minutes off my time from 5 years ago. But, this is just the beginning. This is just the beginning of a very long, yet prosperous comeback tour that awaits me. Lawerence is in two days, and Wichita follows the week after. I am ready. I am confident. I will hit my times this weekend.
Friday, July 11, 2008
rekindled excitement
Shawnee Mission Triathlon is in less than two days. Five years after my last true competition, I am finally making a comeback tour. And a full tour it is. Three sprint tris in three consecutive weeks, plus two olympic tris and a half marathon in the next three months respectively. I was at lunch yesterday and realized I need to pick up my pre-race packet today. That's when it hit me…it was a not so subtle rush that washed through my body. Tingles of excitement surged through my veins, my vision became slightly blurred and the corners of my mouth curled up oh-so-slightly. It was a feeling that I hadn't known for years. It was a feeling of excitement that completely overwhelmed any pre-race jitters. I am ready.
Being the planner I am, I stayed up late the other night researching times and placement for the SMP tri in years past. My name is last listed in 2003…along w/ my 81st place finish. My swim was nearly 12 minutes, my bike was over 33 minutes, and my run was just over 18 minutes. My transition times were almost humorous. Oh, how far I've come since then…and that was while I was just concluding my career as a division 1 athlete. This year I am going to break an hour. I am going to exit the water before 11 minutes have passed, the bike is going to take just a hair over 27 minutes, and the run is going to be a strong 17 minutes. And the transition times? Cut in half…a minute 30 for the first, 60 seconds for the second. I've practiced the transitions and visualized the race. I am going to finish in the top 20. I am ready.
A few weeks ago I partook in the Tour de Lakes. It is a 61 mile ride around nearly half a dozen lakes in the Lee's Summit area. I finished in just a little over 3 hours. I was able to keep pace with the lead pack for about a third of the race, which did wonders for my confidence. This is my longest ride to date. To top it off, I rode an additional 40 miles the next day for a smooth 100 mile total for the weekend. Throughout the last few months, I've gotten to know SMP very well. My bike and I have traversed the pavement loop around the park more times than I care to count. I know exactly where the hills are and how I'm going to attack the dam both times. I also know that I need to attack mile three because it is a very subtle downhill that can benefit aggressive riders. I've literally rode this course forwards and backwards. I know exactly where the finish line is. I am ready.
Being the planner I am, I stayed up late the other night researching times and placement for the SMP tri in years past. My name is last listed in 2003…along w/ my 81st place finish. My swim was nearly 12 minutes, my bike was over 33 minutes, and my run was just over 18 minutes. My transition times were almost humorous. Oh, how far I've come since then…and that was while I was just concluding my career as a division 1 athlete. This year I am going to break an hour. I am going to exit the water before 11 minutes have passed, the bike is going to take just a hair over 27 minutes, and the run is going to be a strong 17 minutes. And the transition times? Cut in half…a minute 30 for the first, 60 seconds for the second. I've practiced the transitions and visualized the race. I am going to finish in the top 20. I am ready.
A few weeks ago I partook in the Tour de Lakes. It is a 61 mile ride around nearly half a dozen lakes in the Lee's Summit area. I finished in just a little over 3 hours. I was able to keep pace with the lead pack for about a third of the race, which did wonders for my confidence. This is my longest ride to date. To top it off, I rode an additional 40 miles the next day for a smooth 100 mile total for the weekend. Throughout the last few months, I've gotten to know SMP very well. My bike and I have traversed the pavement loop around the park more times than I care to count. I know exactly where the hills are and how I'm going to attack the dam both times. I also know that I need to attack mile three because it is a very subtle downhill that can benefit aggressive riders. I've literally rode this course forwards and backwards. I know exactly where the finish line is. I am ready.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)