Since becoming a parent one thing I've search high and low for, and always come up empty handed, are other mothers that work full time outside of the home, have small children, and train for races of increasing distances. Sure I find stories from men that discuss balancing work, family and training. That's all fine and dandy, but in most of these stories one thing is clear: the wife is the glue of the family. In many, many families this is true of the role of the mother. Don't get me wrong, I'm so fortunate to have a partner that is an excellent father and supportive of my racing that he is understanding and without hesitation allows me the freedom to train and race in destination locations. Yet, I find stories about people training at 4 or 5am in the morning, which I cannot do. I have to take my daughter to school. I can't go for a swim or do a workout outside the house early in the morning. I can't train until 11pm at night after work. I still have a family after all and the reality is that it's unfair to just disappear from their lives for my own selfish reasons.
Instead, I found an amazing job in which at lunch I can swim (and getting in 4000 to 5000m at lunchtime is insanely difficult, but you bust your hump to make it happen). After work I go back to the gym to do bike intervals followed by speedwork on a treadmill. I have one day a week I take the bike out for Time Trial Intervals followed by run intervals for 45 minutes for a brick workout. I also have just run workouts but I make sure I am home in time to put my daughter to bed. The weekends are for long workouts, which I do by myself and manage to complete by 10am or 11am so I can spend the rest of my day with my family which is so important for me, but also for them.
Training for any long distance race is a selfish process. You train and time with the family is what is sacrificed. At the same time, you have a family and they make sacrifices for you as an athlete so you can succeed. You cross a finish line, but to be honest, while you feel accomplished, the real finishers are the families of athletes. I think they give up so much more than the athlete does. So, while you see athletes so upset with their performance, or not getting enough training in a given week, or whatever else in their training and racing career that didn't go right and internalizing their frustration, you will find me always happy with every single last race, even if I can't finish, because just being able to show up at the starting line was a gift that was given to me by my family. I always have a smile on my face at a race, and usually right after the race I go home and give my medal to my daughter. I may have raced, but she earned that medal. Basically, the one thing I keep are my race numbers that I pin on my wall at work. Those aren't there for just me either. Those numbers are to show students that you can do anything, and remind me through how many races so many people sacrificed so that I could do what I love.
Now I have 5 1/2 weeks until my first full Ironman. This is where my family starts to give up the most through the process. I have to put more time into this journey focusing on the mental and the physical. This is the point in training where it all becomes very real, and trust me, I definitely need to focus on the mental. So, I can't really find someone who have gone through the same journey that I have, therefore I need to rely on myself to know how I structure family and training is right for us and just ignore the outside nose.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Too much negative noise will drive you crazy....and who wants to be crazy?
So, this is something that has actually bothered me for a long time. As triathletes, marathoners and ultra-marathoners we are apart of an extremely small community. So small that less than 1% of the population in the US actually make up our community. So, why is it that there is bullying, resentment and just flat out disrespect between athletes? Healthy competition is a good thing, even great, but animosity and flat out bad behavior is the thing that can tear apart these sports.
Back in December I traveled to San Francisco to participate in my first ultra-marathon. I was so beyond excited. The morning of the race I rode in the bus with my friend Art and his friend Lucas whom are both crazy runners. I have to be perfectly honest, while I am fully aware that my daughter is 4 years old I still have the most amazingly over bearing insecurity about my weight. Before I was pregnant I worked hard training and stayed between a size 6 to size 8 for the most part and hovered around 140lbs at less than 20% body fat. Now I'm a lot heavier than that and over between a size 12 and a larger size 10 on a good day. It's hard for me to see people I haven't seen in years, but I went and picked up coffee and met up with the guys at the bus. It was great to see Art after so many years. It took me forever to finish and I did what my head is just programed to do: walk straight to the shuttle, get on shuttle, go back to car, go home. I do it at every race and rarely go to a race with anyone else. On the shuttle I met the nicest man who ran. We talked about our families, he has 6 children, and running, his wife was running her 1st marathon and hoping to qualify for Boston.
Fast forward to mid-March, and after the Catalina marathon I got my backpack and made a beeline for the boats, changed my ticket to the next boat to the mainland and got inline to board. Low and behold, the person standing in front of me is the same man from the shuttle (his wife qualified for Boston with 16 seconds to spare) as well as another runner from Virginia that I had met at the Malibu Marathon the previous November. The next week I was in San Juan, Puerto Rico for the inaugural San Juan 70.3 half Ironman. At the expo I ran into people I've met and seen at many races, and it dawned on me: We are a small community of less than 1% which means it doesn't matter if you're in Marin County, a small island off the coast of California, or a large island in the Caribbean, or training in your local community.....we are a community nonetheless and we are all in this together.
You don't have to get along, you don't have to love each other, hell there are going to be times when you are frustrated with your training or just life in general and you can't stand anyone, but at the end of the day the people that will always be there to see you to the finish is a community of athletes that do make up less than 1% of the population. So we are all bound to have people we will see in training and racing we don't particularly like, and that's okay. Shit happens. The question is will you allow the noise to negatively effect you, or will you block out that noise and be in a place of yes? I know, totally sounds very Pollyanna of me, but seriously, tell me where in your life you actually have the mentally capacity and time in your life carved out for negative noise? I'm willing to bet you $20 you don't.
It's racing season, but for me it's mostly training season for Vineman Full on July 30th. That insecurity of the extra 30-35lbs is going to go away along with the weight. It's a burden too heavy to carry anymore. Any stress and negativity is no longer permitted in my life. It's too noisy, and I rather enjoy a peaceful existence, and really who doesn't enjoy happiness and a peaceful existence?
Back in December I traveled to San Francisco to participate in my first ultra-marathon. I was so beyond excited. The morning of the race I rode in the bus with my friend Art and his friend Lucas whom are both crazy runners. I have to be perfectly honest, while I am fully aware that my daughter is 4 years old I still have the most amazingly over bearing insecurity about my weight. Before I was pregnant I worked hard training and stayed between a size 6 to size 8 for the most part and hovered around 140lbs at less than 20% body fat. Now I'm a lot heavier than that and over between a size 12 and a larger size 10 on a good day. It's hard for me to see people I haven't seen in years, but I went and picked up coffee and met up with the guys at the bus. It was great to see Art after so many years. It took me forever to finish and I did what my head is just programed to do: walk straight to the shuttle, get on shuttle, go back to car, go home. I do it at every race and rarely go to a race with anyone else. On the shuttle I met the nicest man who ran. We talked about our families, he has 6 children, and running, his wife was running her 1st marathon and hoping to qualify for Boston.
Fast forward to mid-March, and after the Catalina marathon I got my backpack and made a beeline for the boats, changed my ticket to the next boat to the mainland and got inline to board. Low and behold, the person standing in front of me is the same man from the shuttle (his wife qualified for Boston with 16 seconds to spare) as well as another runner from Virginia that I had met at the Malibu Marathon the previous November. The next week I was in San Juan, Puerto Rico for the inaugural San Juan 70.3 half Ironman. At the expo I ran into people I've met and seen at many races, and it dawned on me: We are a small community of less than 1% which means it doesn't matter if you're in Marin County, a small island off the coast of California, or a large island in the Caribbean, or training in your local community.....we are a community nonetheless and we are all in this together.
You don't have to get along, you don't have to love each other, hell there are going to be times when you are frustrated with your training or just life in general and you can't stand anyone, but at the end of the day the people that will always be there to see you to the finish is a community of athletes that do make up less than 1% of the population. So we are all bound to have people we will see in training and racing we don't particularly like, and that's okay. Shit happens. The question is will you allow the noise to negatively effect you, or will you block out that noise and be in a place of yes? I know, totally sounds very Pollyanna of me, but seriously, tell me where in your life you actually have the mentally capacity and time in your life carved out for negative noise? I'm willing to bet you $20 you don't.
It's racing season, but for me it's mostly training season for Vineman Full on July 30th. That insecurity of the extra 30-35lbs is going to go away along with the weight. It's a burden too heavy to carry anymore. Any stress and negativity is no longer permitted in my life. It's too noisy, and I rather enjoy a peaceful existence, and really who doesn't enjoy happiness and a peaceful existence?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
San Juan 70.3
This was an amazing race to experience. There were highs, not too many lows, and things I never thought possible (that I will definitely skip). I got to the host hotel at 4:45am and promptly jumped in line at the Starbucks to get a Green Iced Tea, oatmeal and yogurt. We dropped our bikes off the day before in transition, so I had a bag with my transition items and really didn't need too much time to set up. I sat down and for the first time EVER before a race.....I ate breakfast. For the past day I'd been worried about the fact that I wasn't at all freaked out about the race. No butterflies, no second thoughts, no questioning my ability, nothing but calm and a bit of excitement. The weather was warm, the humidity was thick, and I was ready to go with just one goal: to finish. I made my way to my bike, set up transition, put on sunscreen and at 6am started the 1 mile walk to the race start (YES! ONE MILE BAREFOOT!) Along the way I just met the nicest people, which proved to be the theme of the day. Finally at 6:40 the Promen started. 6:50 the Pro women. 7am the first amateur wave. I was in the 7:15am wave with about 60 others and we all waded into the 79 degree water, chatting it up, and when the starting gun went off there was no made dash to be first. I swear, this was possibly the most excellent example of sportsmanship in a race, or at least it was the best in my 8 years of racing.
The plan of attack was to take this swim one buoy at a time, and that's exactly what I did. The water was warm, and while it was in a "lagoon" the current was strong. I was told to "swim to the right" about 4 times. Everyone just kept drifting. The course was an out and waaaaaay back, under a bridge, back to the hotel. I eventually exited the water to where I started my 1/3 mile....YES! 1/3 mile trot to transition (these very long trots back to transition happen for every single leg and are added to your total time for that leg, NOT for transition). Eventually, I cross the mat thus beginning my transition....but I still have a ways to go to even get to my transition area! LOL! I get to the bike and I decided to take my time. I reapply sunscreen, put on socks to avoid blisters, consume a gel, use my inhaler and put it into my pocket and then I started the trek out of transition. I exit transition and begin the trek to the bike mount (see, a reoccurring theme!) Get on my bike and away I go!
The biggest climb on the bike course was a total of 80 feet. The day before I asked a person at my table for the mandatory meeting where the "climb" was and what it was. He informed me it was simply a freeway overpass and then spent 10 minute outlining the entire course, with the various climbs over the overpasses, and at what time the cross winds, head winds, etc usually acted up. This man was the greatest resource for me in this race (obviously he was from Puerto Rico), and the info he gave me is exactly one of two reasons I had an amazing bike leg (the other is the countless drills my amazing coach had me do on a spin bike!) Let's face it, it's been raining A LOT at home so most of my bike work happened at home on the spin bike, at the gym on a spin bike and in spin class. I was lucky enough to have access to spin bikes that had computers and would tell me what gear I was in. totally took all the guess work out of the workout so I could focus on getting the most out of my intervals. Back on the bike course for the first 30 miles I got the ONLY tail wind I would have for this entire race and I went faster on my bike at times than I've ever gone on my bike. Then I got to mile 37 or 38 at the final turn around and my inhaler popped out of my pocket. If it was a bar or gel I wouldn't have cared, but I care when it's my inhaler. I safely pulled over, went back 10 feet and grabbed it, secured it, and safely started again....and then came the cross winds. DAMN CROSS WINDS! The last 18 miles back I've never seen so many people needed first aide because the cross winds knocked them off their bike. There was one guy who was way ahead of me that was blown off, went on to finish and at the end I saw him in a wheelchair with a neck brace....and a finisher medal. I make it back to the bike dismount and am just glad to be 2/3 done. I thought it was only going to be a couple of hours more, but I was sorely mistaken.
So, I make the final long haul trek to the mats into transition, and then the trek to my bike (which was never ever near an entrance or exit of transition) and my legs actually feel great. A shout out to Eric for giving me so many run off the bike workouts. It made a HUGE difference. My bike to run transition was almost half the time of my T1 time. I grab some Sharkies to munch on and start the hike to exit transition. Now, I knew that run would be the hardest leg, everyone knew it, but yeah, this was beyond anyone's wildest imagination. I got out of transition, started to literally run and I couldn't breathe at all. It was only 11am and I thought I would have until at least noon until the thick of the humidity would set in. WRONG! I just kept walking, smile on my face and all you hear is "Come on lady don't give up" (In English and Spanish) and then some random guy saying "Oh, she must be haivng a hard day. I hope she is able to finish". I won't lie, it totally pissed me off, but the fact was that my body was physically capable of running, but my asthmatic lungs couldn't hold any large capacity of air. I just kept trotting along because damn it! I WAS GOING TO FINISH!
I had the foresight to bring money with me....and it turned out to be an excellent idea. The thought of warm gatorade in 85 degree heat with 80% humidity never sounded appealing. Since the run was 2 loops through old San Juan I knew there would be street vendors with ice cold water. I am almost to the first turn around on the first loop and meet a nice man who is exhausted and sick of the warm water. When we get back into the town from the "Princess Walk" (which is the worst part of the run: No breeze, and sun beating down on you reflecting off the water and the wall of the fortress) there is a vendor and we get 2 bottles of water. We trot and walk a little to the 6 mile turn around and start the second loop. At this point it's 1 pm and almost nobody is running anymore, or if they are it's a run slower then the rest of us walking. By the time I'm back to the "Princess Walk" I could swear they've move the turn around further back (they didn't) and then I just have 3 miles left. The soles of my feet are literally burning from the heat in the cobblestone. It;s black cobblestone that just absorbs every degree of heat possible. So, with 2 miles left I get a diet coke. I was in desperate need of caffeine, but I still felt pretty good. I finally get to what I think is the home stretch and then there it is: THE DAMN BRIDGE! I think "Oh holy hell, I forgot about the bridge" and I wasn't the only person. Everyone around me forgot about it, and one man paused looking at it to muster up the energy to get over it. I get over the bridge and you can hear the finish line, but you cannot see the finish. I looked at a volunteer and in Spanish ask "are you sure there's a finish line at the end?" We laughed, and I started to run and low and behold 15 seconds later I was crossing the finish line. It took 7:58, about 2 hours longer than I would have liked, but in 85 degree heat with 80% humidity finishing was the best reward.
On Monday at the airport I was in the security line with the head official from USAT and he asked me how I enjoyed the race. I told him it was one of the best race experiences I've ever had despite the rather super slow finish time. He then informed me that after every race he has to write a report of the race and his opinion on the course and that the run course in all 10 years of his experience as an official was possibly the most brutal course he's even witnessed between the heat/humidity, no shade AT ALL, and constant elevation change. At that moment, I was just happy to have finished at all.
During the race I had a lot to think about and reflect on, and decisions were made. We arrived home at 2am on Tuesday and in the afternoon all of our mail was delivered. We received the contract for Emily's school in the fall and it finally set in that my need to be limited and I have to focus on the goal race for once. So, my focus is on Vineman on July 31st, and any race that I do will be cleared with the coach and will only be done if it helps me with my training for Vineman. All Active.com emails now go to spam and I'm in "recovery" from my medal addiction! LOL!
Thank you to everyone for your support through this journey, especially my family who makes my racing insanity possible.
The plan of attack was to take this swim one buoy at a time, and that's exactly what I did. The water was warm, and while it was in a "lagoon" the current was strong. I was told to "swim to the right" about 4 times. Everyone just kept drifting. The course was an out and waaaaaay back, under a bridge, back to the hotel. I eventually exited the water to where I started my 1/3 mile....YES! 1/3 mile trot to transition (these very long trots back to transition happen for every single leg and are added to your total time for that leg, NOT for transition). Eventually, I cross the mat thus beginning my transition....but I still have a ways to go to even get to my transition area! LOL! I get to the bike and I decided to take my time. I reapply sunscreen, put on socks to avoid blisters, consume a gel, use my inhaler and put it into my pocket and then I started the trek out of transition. I exit transition and begin the trek to the bike mount (see, a reoccurring theme!) Get on my bike and away I go!
The biggest climb on the bike course was a total of 80 feet. The day before I asked a person at my table for the mandatory meeting where the "climb" was and what it was. He informed me it was simply a freeway overpass and then spent 10 minute outlining the entire course, with the various climbs over the overpasses, and at what time the cross winds, head winds, etc usually acted up. This man was the greatest resource for me in this race (obviously he was from Puerto Rico), and the info he gave me is exactly one of two reasons I had an amazing bike leg (the other is the countless drills my amazing coach had me do on a spin bike!) Let's face it, it's been raining A LOT at home so most of my bike work happened at home on the spin bike, at the gym on a spin bike and in spin class. I was lucky enough to have access to spin bikes that had computers and would tell me what gear I was in. totally took all the guess work out of the workout so I could focus on getting the most out of my intervals. Back on the bike course for the first 30 miles I got the ONLY tail wind I would have for this entire race and I went faster on my bike at times than I've ever gone on my bike. Then I got to mile 37 or 38 at the final turn around and my inhaler popped out of my pocket. If it was a bar or gel I wouldn't have cared, but I care when it's my inhaler. I safely pulled over, went back 10 feet and grabbed it, secured it, and safely started again....and then came the cross winds. DAMN CROSS WINDS! The last 18 miles back I've never seen so many people needed first aide because the cross winds knocked them off their bike. There was one guy who was way ahead of me that was blown off, went on to finish and at the end I saw him in a wheelchair with a neck brace....and a finisher medal. I make it back to the bike dismount and am just glad to be 2/3 done. I thought it was only going to be a couple of hours more, but I was sorely mistaken.
So, I make the final long haul trek to the mats into transition, and then the trek to my bike (which was never ever near an entrance or exit of transition) and my legs actually feel great. A shout out to Eric for giving me so many run off the bike workouts. It made a HUGE difference. My bike to run transition was almost half the time of my T1 time. I grab some Sharkies to munch on and start the hike to exit transition. Now, I knew that run would be the hardest leg, everyone knew it, but yeah, this was beyond anyone's wildest imagination. I got out of transition, started to literally run and I couldn't breathe at all. It was only 11am and I thought I would have until at least noon until the thick of the humidity would set in. WRONG! I just kept walking, smile on my face and all you hear is "Come on lady don't give up" (In English and Spanish) and then some random guy saying "Oh, she must be haivng a hard day. I hope she is able to finish". I won't lie, it totally pissed me off, but the fact was that my body was physically capable of running, but my asthmatic lungs couldn't hold any large capacity of air. I just kept trotting along because damn it! I WAS GOING TO FINISH!
I had the foresight to bring money with me....and it turned out to be an excellent idea. The thought of warm gatorade in 85 degree heat with 80% humidity never sounded appealing. Since the run was 2 loops through old San Juan I knew there would be street vendors with ice cold water. I am almost to the first turn around on the first loop and meet a nice man who is exhausted and sick of the warm water. When we get back into the town from the "Princess Walk" (which is the worst part of the run: No breeze, and sun beating down on you reflecting off the water and the wall of the fortress) there is a vendor and we get 2 bottles of water. We trot and walk a little to the 6 mile turn around and start the second loop. At this point it's 1 pm and almost nobody is running anymore, or if they are it's a run slower then the rest of us walking. By the time I'm back to the "Princess Walk" I could swear they've move the turn around further back (they didn't) and then I just have 3 miles left. The soles of my feet are literally burning from the heat in the cobblestone. It;s black cobblestone that just absorbs every degree of heat possible. So, with 2 miles left I get a diet coke. I was in desperate need of caffeine, but I still felt pretty good. I finally get to what I think is the home stretch and then there it is: THE DAMN BRIDGE! I think "Oh holy hell, I forgot about the bridge" and I wasn't the only person. Everyone around me forgot about it, and one man paused looking at it to muster up the energy to get over it. I get over the bridge and you can hear the finish line, but you cannot see the finish. I looked at a volunteer and in Spanish ask "are you sure there's a finish line at the end?" We laughed, and I started to run and low and behold 15 seconds later I was crossing the finish line. It took 7:58, about 2 hours longer than I would have liked, but in 85 degree heat with 80% humidity finishing was the best reward.
On Monday at the airport I was in the security line with the head official from USAT and he asked me how I enjoyed the race. I told him it was one of the best race experiences I've ever had despite the rather super slow finish time. He then informed me that after every race he has to write a report of the race and his opinion on the course and that the run course in all 10 years of his experience as an official was possibly the most brutal course he's even witnessed between the heat/humidity, no shade AT ALL, and constant elevation change. At that moment, I was just happy to have finished at all.
During the race I had a lot to think about and reflect on, and decisions were made. We arrived home at 2am on Tuesday and in the afternoon all of our mail was delivered. We received the contract for Emily's school in the fall and it finally set in that my need to be limited and I have to focus on the goal race for once. So, my focus is on Vineman on July 31st, and any race that I do will be cleared with the coach and will only be done if it helps me with my training for Vineman. All Active.com emails now go to spam and I'm in "recovery" from my medal addiction! LOL!
Thank you to everyone for your support through this journey, especially my family who makes my racing insanity possible.
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