Longmont Triathlon Race Report

I really did not know what to expect at today’s sprint tri. So, you bet I was happy with 3rd place in my division (F40-44)! 3/20 division, 11/139 overall woman. Time: 1:18:14 (525 yd swim, 12 mile bike, 5K run)

I took over two minutes off of last year’s time. My swim and bike (thanks Trek Lexa!) were both faster and my transition times were about half of what they were last year. My run was 23 seconds slower, but who’s counting. I’m still catching up there.

Here’s my transition area, pre-race. I bring my Care Bears lucky towel. That’s how I roll. You know all the dudes with their special TYR and Zoot towels were jealous. Some asked where I got it. These guys should really shop at Wal-Mart more.

I am digging this hoodie bathing suit combo.

The race was smooth sailing. I did not make any messes and I had only two glitches.

1. My f*cking goggles. They kept filling with water. I had to stop three times to fix them. I’m sure I added a good minute there.
2. As I went out on the run I passed a girl with headphones on. Not earbuds, but full blown headphones. Like the kind your wore in the 70s. She didn’t hear me coming and hocked a loogie right on me. It trickled down my leg and I felt like gagging. She was so apologetic, I told her it was fine. But it wasn’t. Gross. Now I am Shut Up and Run with a Loogie (SUARWAL).

The swim felt easy. The bike was tougher for me and I had to push just to get an 18.2 mph average. The run felt really good. I paced well and did the 5K in 25:03.

I wasn’t dying when I crossed the finish line, but was ready to be done.

Ken killed his time, PR’ing by six minutes from last year. Guess all this HIM training is paying off.

I got emotional with the trophy. I know placing in your age group depends on who comes out that day and not necessarily that you are the strongest or fastest. But for me the trophy represents my continued comeback from the nasty injury. It just feels SO mother eff’ing good to be out there again.

I love this picture because I look like I’m having a stroke (eye area) and Ken is chewing.

Now going to stuff my face with Chipotle.

Happy Sunday!

SUAR

Compromising Positions

For all of us girl suckers who just want to be adored and taken care of by our man, Jason’s comment on yesterday’s post will get you all in a tizzy. He said,

“What occurred to me today is that no matter how bad a day I have had, my wife may have had it worse so I need to be on my best behavior when she gets home and make it comfortable for her.”

Is it just me or is this the true definition of love? When we stop focusing on ourselves and take a moment to think what someone else might need. Big time points, Jason. BIG.

So, we all know how supportive the runner-blogging-world is.  Case in point, I got a gift in the mail a couple of days ago from Ms. Emz. Just because. You know how I love those “just because” moments. When someone does something kind for you with no hope of personal gain. We all need to do one “just because” a day and things might be a bit brighter.

The gift was the famous I Want You to Want Tee from Punk Rock Racing:

Only, I’m not going to pretend to look near as good as Emz does in the shirt. Mostly because I don’t have that sweet belt buckle and I don’t have those long gorgeous legs.

I had to add a little something to make the shirt more legit for me:

So, here’s how it went yesterday when I wore the shirt. You knew there had to be a story, didn’t you? I’m nothing but a boring housewife without my stories.

First let me say, I don’t know how I always seem to find myself in compromising positions. It’s been this way my whole life. I go about my days, feeling pretty confident, then *BAM* I get reminded that I was put on this earth to be laughed at (in a good way).

There was the time I overflowed the toilet.

And, the time I fell off the treadmill.

Or, the time I crapped in a tree.

Don’t forget the time I wore the security tag.

And, there have been countless other incidents involving unexpected farts, a spontaneous puke all over my boyfriend’s bed after a night of imbibing (college), my bathing suit top falling off in front of my boyfriend’s family (different boyfriend).

If anything ever happens to Ken I’m going to have a hell of a time finding a date after this post. Unless you’re the type who goes for a woman who pukes on your bed, overflows your toilet then tops it off with a delicate fart.

Yesterday, I went to the gym and actually got on the bike for the first time since the injury. It was only 30 minutes, but it didn’t involve a pool and I was psyched. I got dressed again in my new shirt and headed to Starbucks because this is what I do after workouts as my prize. I was feeling pretty sassy, knowing everyone was checking out my shirt (fantasy world). I ordered my Grande Christmas Blend and headed over to add the cup of half and half that I always put in my coffee. I like to call it half and half with a splash of coffee.

As I stood there, I realized this.

Yeah, that’s right. My fly was open the whole time. Since I left the gym. Zoom in and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Someone should have yelled, “XYZ PDQ!” (examine your zipper, pretty darn quick) like they did in grade school.

It’s always a good lesson in humility to be me.

Funny thing was, later on I went to the groomer (because a one eyed, three legged dog with an erection problem needs to look good too), and the zipper was down again. I don’t seem to learn. I wish I could blame it on the pants, but they’re not those pants that that zipper that always falls down. It’s just me.

Keeping it in my pants,

SUAR

PS: I’m working on a very special water running video for you, so visit back.

My New Friend (Who Needs Enemies?)

Warning: Drama unfolding

Sigh.

We have been separated for about two weeks, running and me. I ache for it everyday. I see it all around me, yet it can’t be a part of me. Not now. I miss its comforting pace while taking me down a tree-lined road on a long run. I yearn for its drill sergeant voice that orders me to do one more Yasso even though I might throw up or crap my pants. I crave the words of wisdom and inspiration that light up my brain when we spend the morning on a trail by a lake looking at the mountains. I miss sharing the frosty winter mornings together when all is calm and barely light.

 Taken from my back deck this morning. Doesn’t suck to live in CO.

I know there are other friends like biking and swimming and yoga. They are good support systems too. They want me to be strong, yet they accept that I only spend time with them so I can go back to my first love - running.

You are right. It is not the end of the world to not be able to run. There are worse things. Much worse things. Children get hurt. Parents pass away. Cancer happens. The list goes on.

The thing about running, though, is it lessens the blow of all the really bad stuff. It accentuates the good.  It takes a mundane day and gives it purpose and insight. It provides a means of coping with the ups and downs of life. It is constant. It is always there. Well, almost always.

I know it will be back. We still have a lot to do together.

Upon its return we will be tentative and careful with one another. Eventually, we will test our relationship as we start training. We might have some ups and downs as we try to figure out how to be together in a new and healthy way that does not involve someone getting hurt. I will set boundaries and that will be painful at times. Most likely we will need to take things slow and understand when to back off.

At the end of the day running has not let me down. It has given me the gift of OMFOTG (One More F*cking Opportunity To Grow). And grow I will.

But, for now my new friend is crutch. He sucks the big one (and makes me look like an old, tired hag).

Trying to be patient,

SUAR

Yo Mama's So Dumb

Man, you guys are BQ'ing all over the place. Congrats to Mindful Living and Denise for showing us how it's done!

I, on the other hand, did not BQ this weekend. I had better things to do like watching Glee on TiVo and getting nearly frostbitten and hypothermic on a Sunday morning bike ride in the Colorado mountains.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Driving to the base of Left Hand Canyon and biking the 8 miles and 1,800 feet up to the small mountain town of Jamestown, CO. It also seemed like a good idea to go by myself, to put on only minimally warm gloves and layers and to not double check that my Garmin was charged. It seemed like a good idea to do these things when I have zero body fat and a history of poor circulation and Raynaud's Syndrome (Condition resulting in a particular series of discolorations of the fingers and/or the toes after exposure to changes in temperature -cold or hot - or emotional events).

Here is part of the road on a nice day in the summer with no snow:

I set out. It is much colder than I thought. There was no sun. Even if the sun was out, there is no sun in the canyon. There was snow on the ground. The river running alongside the road was frozen. I realized my Garmin was dead. I realized my bike computer wasn't working. I had no cell service. I felt chilly, but sure that I would warm up as I started climbing. And warm up I did. I felt phenomenal. No one else was out. The scenery was beautiful. There were wild pheasants walking around. It was still and quiet with just my breathing and the sound of my bike tires on the road.

I saw one guy riding down the canyon in the opposite direction. He had a scarf wrapped around his entire face. I was so warmed up by that time that I thought, "What's up with that guy. It's not that cold. Fool." (Cue foreshadow).

I continued up. The going was steep. I got to points where the road was covered in snow and where there were so many broken pieces of rock on the road that had fallen down the cliffs that I had to dodge around them. Finally, I see the sign for Jamestown: 6,929 ft. I've made it, now time for the payoff; the quick 8 miles downhill back to the warm car.

The minute I turned around and started to head down I started cussin'. The icy wind coming at me was bitterly and insanely cold. My toes and fingers immediately started to go numb (remember the Raynaud's?) but were also incredibly painful at the same time. Typically eight miles downhill on a bike goes by in a flash, but this felt in slow motion as my body was shaking from the cold and my extremities were in so much pain. It sucked. Once I got back to the car I cranked the heat, but when I got home my temp was 95 degrees. It took me at least 45 minutes in the hot shower to stop shaking and for my feet to return to their normal color.

I am just a dumb ass. Feel free to berate me and tell me I deserve what I got. Send me any second hand winter cycling gear you may have. Give me instructions on how to carry a flint with me and start a fire so I could thaw my hands and feet. Remind me that there are things called hand and foot warmers that you can buy for these such occasions. Feel free to call my kids and tell them theses jokes:

Yo mama’s so dumb she stole a free sample

Yo mama’s so dumb she stayed up all night studying for her blood test

You see, I am not bright enough to cycle. That is why I need to heal so I can run again.

The kids and I went to see the movie the Blindside after I thawed. I thought it was a lovely and touching story of giving and compassion. The only thing my son remembers from the movie is when Sandra Bullock yells to the guy behind her at the football game, "Hey crotch mouth!" I'm glad he got so much out of it.

Drinking: Yogi Detox Tea

What I should be doing instead of blogging: Writing a home study report for work