All I Wanted Was to Be Stroked

Last night Ken and I did the Stroke ‘n Stride. No, this hasn’t become an x-rated blog, although stroking is a good thing.

The Sroke ‘n Stride is really a fancy name for an aqua-thon. It is a casual timed swim/run event where you can choose to swim 750 or 1,500 meters then do a 5K run. It’s at the Boulder Reservoir, same place as the half Ironman. We thought this would be good practice for Sunday’s race as it would give us a chance to be part of a mass start of swimmers.

If you volunteer at one event, you get to do one for free (it’s usually $20). We tried to volunteer, but I sent an email saying could be in a kayak but would not save anyone’s life (joke, joke), but I never heard back and I think it’s because they thought I was callous and rude.

I, personally, was also hoping this mini-race it would calm these freaking nerves. I am about to explode with anticipation and fear of the unknown and I’ve got the shits – a sure sign of anxiety. Or, maybe it was that bean/cheese burrito.

The start was to be at 6:00 p.m. for the long course (1,500 meters). We got there by 5:30 p.m. to set up our transition area and to get our timing chips. On the way in, I saw this:

The reality of what this truck meant (that, yes, my race is only 4 days away) made me both sick and excited. (Breath, Nora, breathe!)

We put on our wetsuits, which is a very hot thing to do when it is 92 degrees. Nut soup, as Ken would say.

We waited, and waited. The weather was looking iffy and they kept moving the swim start until later and later. We went to sit in the shade and that’s when the dude about 2 feet to my right let the hugest fart rip. I mean HUGE. Ken looked at me and asked, “Was that you?,” which is a perfectly acceptable and expected question. But, for once it was not me. And, this dude just sat there letting things fly as if I he was doing nothing at all. I mean, c’mon, at least fan your crotch area or put your thumb on your head or laugh out loud and say, “Good one!”

We waited and waited. Ken remarked, “All these f&cking people are so in shape. This is ridiculous!” I said, “I know. They just need to CALM DOWN and stop working out so much and being so fit.”

That is just how Boulder is. A collection of muscular, svelte, beautiful, gluten/dairy free*, socially conscious, Prius driving folks who can kick ass in any and all races. We who live in Longmont are just a shadow of these beauties. The red-headed step sisters, if you will. I like gluten. A lot. (Yes, I’ve been tested. No, I don’t have an intolerance).

Now, the start had been moved to 6:40 p.m., the wind had picked up big time and there were major white caps on the reservoir. That’s about the time they cancelled the swim but let us know the run would still be happening.

After sitting for almost an hour in my wetsuit I could not wait to rip that sucker off. And it was soaked, just from my lady-like perspiration.

We went to the start line for the run and Ken looked at me and asked, “So, are you racing this thing? Like going fast?” I said, “No. I didn’t plan on kicking ass in a 5K tonight.” Ken said, “I am not going to beat any one of these people. Like not even that little girl over there.”

So much for not racing. I had some nerves I needed to work out. The wind was pretty horrendous going around the lake on the way out. I was huffing and puffing, probably in about zone 20. I looked at my watch and we were only six minutes in. Shit. I kept it up. At the turn around, the wind was at my back. I didn’t have my Garmin, so had no clue how I was pacing. I passed a few people and finished up in 22:58 (7:25 average). A new PR for me and good enough for 2nd in my age group and 20/99 overall for women. Score one for the Longmont step sister!

Afterwards Ken asked me what was hanging down from my bathing suit. I told him it was the tie for my suit.

 

He said, “Good, I knew it was either that or a really huge tampon.” Good to know the white string had made a showing all along. Hello Boulder! I have a huge tampon and it is NOT ORGANIC!

3 days. Oh, my.

SUAR

*PS: I get why people are dairy/gluten free and why the Prius is an awesome car. I also happen to love Boulder and all the Boulderites.  Just poking some fun so don’t get your panties in a wad.

Hope She Didn’t Drown ‘Cause She Was Cool

I so love starting out the day inspired.

Don't get me wrong. It wasn’t like I jumped out of bed feeling that way. In fact, when I got up at 5:30 a.m., pushed “start” on the coffee maker and prepared to hit the road for an open water swim in Boulder, I tiredly tried to count just how many early mornings I have put in since starting my half ironman training. Probably over 80 in the past three months.

Training has been incredible, but for someone like me who loves lazy mornings with the Denver Post and a cinnamon roll as big as my head, this has been a different sort of summer. That said, I’m the type who needs to get it done first thing, or it ain’t gonna happen. Mornings are best for a lot of things (TWSS).

Back to what inspired me. The inspiration I’m talking about came in the form of a 61 year old woman with a Southern accent. As we arrived at the reservoir, she was putting on her wetsuit. She came over and asked for a friendly hand in zipping up the back while I put on my wetsuit, Xenia from Xterra.

I tried to ignore how Xenia grabbed for my Body Glide and spilled a tampon on the ground. So embarrassing in front of my new friend!

Ken commented I should use the tampon just for extra buoyancy.

Finally I stopped the shenanigans by just putting her on:

My 61 year old friend told me she was doing her first half ironman in California this weekend, Barb’s Race, a women’s only HIM put on by Vineman. She said today was her third open water swim and that the first one she did was last week. She had a panic attack and had to be rescued by a kayaker. She said her second time went better and was we entered the water, she said, “And today I’m not scared at all.”

As we prepared to start swimming, I looked her in the eye and straight from my gut and heart I said, “I am so impressed by you.” It’s all I could say. To have the guts to do this race at her age is nothing short of amazing to me. At the age of 61 she believed she could do something that 99% of people her age think is outrageous and out of reach.

As we started swimming I lost my friend (I hope she didn’t drown, I was kind of self focused), but I will think about her for a long time. Especially when the going gets tough in my race. If she can do it, I can do it. If she can do it, we all can do it.

Anything inspire you today?

SUAR

Maybe I Need a Rest Day

Today’s brick is history. Got ‘er done. It was the icing on the cake that got me to 11 hours and 40 minutes of workouts this week. I’m tired and thirsty for beer.

Today in numbers:

54: # of miles on the bike
197: # of minutes it took to ride that far including stops
1: # of dumps I had to take in the weeds before we even headed out. And the band did not sing about it
40: # of ounces of liquid I drank while riding
1,700: # of feet climbed on the bike total
3: # of dead snakes on the road
20: # of minutes I ran after I got off the bike
15: # of times during the workout I questioned If I have it in me to do this race
15:# of times Ken told me I have what it takes
35: # of days until the race I hope I can finish
1: # of times I got stung by an unknown bug
6: # mile at which I was passed by a group of riders and felt slow and thought about stopping
500: # of calories I ate while on the bike
0: # of pictures I took along the way
8: # of days since my last rest day

Training is a weird animal. You have so many ups and downs mentally and physically. Some days you feel on top of the world, stronger than you’ve ever felt. Other days you are tired, irritable, not having fun. You wonder why you’re doing it at all.

If it sounds like I’m whining I kind of am. The workout went well enough, but I’m always surprised by how much it takes mentally to get through 3 hours and 37 minutes of constant and strenuous exercise. And, after a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, I will still need to run a half marathon, so I think that’s what is psyching me out.

Around here you get kind of skewed. Everyone is SO stinking fit and fast and lean and mean. For god’s sake I was passed by a 55 year old woman kicking ass on her aero bars. I’m not fishing for people to tell me that I’m strong and mean (but you can). Some days I just think this half ironman stuff is way harder than I expected. And that makes me feel like a pussy.

Don’t get me wrong. This training has challenging me and strengthened me in so many positive ways. I’m just being real here.

Penis

I guess we’re all different. Some would say that training for and completing a marathon is one of the toughest things you can do. Personally, I find this HIM stuff much more challenging. More time. More disciplines to be good at. More gear. I’m glad I’m doing it, but I’m not convinced I’ll do another.

Or, maybe I just need a rest day.

Shut up and take a rest day and then shut up and keep training, right?

Ever feel that way about your training? Any tips?

SUAR

Believe It Or Not…

Ten miles – CHECK! I’m officially in the double digits. My body does not feel 100%, but it seems to be withstanding the increased mileage okay. Not perfect, but okay. If you are new to the party, I had a hip stress fracture back in October and am now back to running, sort of. I am planning on running the Boston Marathon in April.

I know this blog is called, “Shut Up and Run,” but there are actually few times I need to tell myself that. I have many problems and challenges, but self discipline is not one of them. This morning, however, I had to scream it in the mirror. It was just one of  those days. Not all runs are equal and sometimes we start out on the wrong foot. But, we continue anyway.

Up at 5:45 a.m, I was trying to get in my long run before I had to head to Sam’s baseball tournament started at 8:30am. It was all a go. I had mapped out a run, laid out the required gear and got a good night’s sleep.

Bad thing was when I got up I could hear the wind howling outside. I muttered the eff word under my breath. I was headed to the Boulder Reservoir and I knew if it was windy at my house it would be Wizard of Oz style windy at the Rez (that’s what the cool people call it). I briefly considered a ten mile treadmill run, but not having the mental fortitude of Janae or EMZ, I kept with my plan.

I arrived at my start point and it was still pitch black outside. For some reason I thought the sun rose at 6:30 a.m., but it’s more like 7:00 a.m. I never run alone in the dark. There was a full moon casting some light on my skinny ass, so that made it okay. Okay, don’t get on my case for running in the dark. I know it is stupid and attackers, wild animals and potholes are waiting around every turn. This was a one time thing and only for 20 minutes. And it wasn’t as pitch black as it seems in this picture. Really it wasn’t.

I wasn’t ten feet from my car when I took advantage of the darkness and squatted in the trees. Crap. Yes, already. And I hadn’t even started.

The first five miles I made three, yes three, more pit stops along the trail. The wind was deafening and humbling. I trudged on, not worried about my pace. More concerned with my stomach.

I’d like to act all naïve as to why my insides were revolting, but we spent Saturday evening at a tap table at Rock Bottom Brewery, so you have your answer. I only had two beers, but I never have good luck with beer the night before long runs. Or really beer anytime. It makes me gassy and moves things through too quickly. By the way…a tap table is this incredible thing. You have five beer taps at your table and pour yourself beer as you please. The bar keeps tabs and you pay at the end. Convenient. Dangerous. Heavenly. It is kind of like this, although this is not our actual table:

The sun started to come up and my spirits rose a bit. I was still heading directly west and into the wind, but I kept telling myself the turn around was soon.

 

I encountered a little farm. Yes, I was the only one around for miles. This is advantageous when you have to poop a lot.

I hit mile six and was thrilled to see this, my best friend:

By mile seven the wind had died down and so had my stomach. I cautiously managed to choke down a gel. I saw another runner and she told me I had blood all over my teeth. WTF? Lips chapped from the wind. Another bonus of this run.

I put in my iPod for the last two miles and reached around to pat myself on the back. This was my highest mileage run since September, pre-inury. I did it in wind and darkness and with the shits and bloody teeth. I always think that the most challenging runs we have are the ones that mentally prepare us the best for race day.

Post run, still trying to hold it in:

If it is windy in Boston on April 18 I will hurt someone. Note to self: no beer the night of April 17. Just tequila shots (kidding).

What was your long run this weekend? Any stomach problems?

Ever sat at a tap table?

Time for a nap,

SUAR

PS: Congrats to McRunner who ran a 2:36:54 marathon in LA today. Average pace = 5:56. A PR for him! Regardless of what you think of his 30 experiment, the dude pulled out a killer marathon!

Taking the Plunge (video)

*FYI: I have no clue who big belly tattoo man is

How did you spent your New Year's morning? Hung over in bed? Making a hefty list of resolutions to run more miles and eat fewer Twinkies? Getting your Betty shaped and colored?

This morning I did something I've never done before. Something that involved paying money to be very cold and miserable for a short time. Kind of like how we pay money to run races and find ourselves puking, crapping, crying and in pain. We do these things for the experience. We do it to make memories. We do it because we want to test ourselves in new and different ways. We do it because life just wouldn't be that interesting if we didn't do these things. But, most of all we do these things to have something to blog about.

My adventure this morning was to do the infamous New Year's Day "Polar Bear Plunge" at the Boulder Reservoir. The details are simple.

1. Show up in 25 degree weather.
2. Pay a registration fee (which goes towards the Alzheimer's Society, so I'm down with that).
3. Get in a long line of people wearing bathrobes, bikinis, down coats, flip flops, tutus.
4. Wait for awhile in your Snuggie until you're so stinking cold your daughter is whining her brains out and your feet are so numbed out you are contemplating dumping your Swiss Miss hot chocolate on them just for a few seconds of relief (hell, covering your feet in boiling liquid sounds better at this point than the pain and cold you are feeling)
5. Observe the rescue divers get all outfitted and immersed in the 30 degree water in case someone goes into cardiac arrest. Hope it's not you who will need help.
6. Watch people bounding into the reservoir in groups of 20. Hear them screaming. See them unable to breathe.
7. Inch closer. Question why the eff you are doing this.
8. Take off all clothes but your bathing suit. Hope your 12 year old son who is plunging with you doesn't die.
9. Stand in the cold waiting for your cue to go.... (see me in purple bikini next to my son in the striped shorts)
   
   

Moments after emerging from this hell hole of freezing water (it is hard to explain just how cold it really was), Sam and I got in a luke warm and dirty hot tub. We didn't hang out long because I didn't want to start the new year with an STD. We be lined for our clothes and headed to the car. My feet were in bad shape = reynaud's syndrome and all:

The shivering didn't stop until I ingested one Grande Vanilla Latte and one huge bowl of steaming vegetable soup. All in all, some great mother/son bonding and the perfect way to jump start a new year of heart stopping adventures.