Just keep swimming!

I think swimming will be, by far, the hardest part of the triathlon for me. I took the usual swim lessons for a kid when I was little, but for the last 12 or so years, the only swimming I did was from the pool steps to a lounge float. 

In Lake Placid, after watching the swim portion of the Ironman, I ducked in to some stores with my sister and tried on one-piece bathing suits. I probably hadn't worn a one-piece suit for about 12 years, either. I didn't know what size I even was, but I discovered that I am a size 32. I'm not going to try and pretend I understand how they size these suits.

I have no idea what good criteria are for these suits, but for the most part, I don't think "cute" is on the list. I liked the way the TYR suits fit, but all the suits they had in stock in my size had patterns that resembled an old person's wallpaper. No thanks.

When I got home from Lake Placid, I went online and found a decent deal on a TYR suit. And BONUS! It's reversible! 

I went to the town pool, which is olympic-sized, and tried out some laps. I was absolutely terrible. I thought I could just get in the water and imitate a free-style stroke. After all, I was in decent shape from running, how hard could it be? I was so, so wrong. Trying to breathe, I was inhaling water, and having no breath made my muscles feel like lead. I couldn't even go 50 meters without having to stop and pant for a while.

I decided to ask F, the triathlon coach my sister put me in touch with, if she knew of any good, local places that taught swim lessons for adults. I'm sure I could have found some sort of class at the YMCA, but I didn't want to take lessons with 5-year-olds that frequently close the pool by pooping in it.

Luckily, F's swim coach, whom I will call "B", is still in the area, and still offers to teach lessons at the school where she is a swim coach. I contacted her and set up a session. The only drawback was that B could only offer lessons between 5:30 and 8:00 in the morning. Yikes! I scheduled for 6:30 am and prayed I didn't oversleep.

I showed up for my first swim lesson with huge butterflies in my stomach. The night before, I had a dream that I got in the pool, and B told me I was so bad that she couldn't even waste her time teaching me. I was hoping that wasn't the case in reality!  

I have to give B points for being honest, and blunt. The first thing she asked me to do was one lap, using what I "thought" was a freestyle stroke. I was gasping for breath by the end of the first length, but I didn't want to embarrass myself, so I forced myself back to the other end of the lane, where B was waiting for me. When I de-fogged my goggles, it seemed like B was trying hard not to laugh. She said something like, "OK. OK, that was...we need to do some work." So it wasn't AS bad as my dream, but close enough.

In fact, I was so bad, that B had me revert to using a pool noodle for my first drill. Before I could learn to do my strokes, I had to learn how to carry my body through the water. I never understood how much coordination goes in to swimming!

After I got my body positioned in relatively the correct way using the noodle (which took a good 20 minutes) B explained the technicalities of breathing to me. The most important thing is to remember not to lift your head when you breathe; you simply turn your head to the side. After a few lengths attempting this technique, I had swallowed approximately half of the pool.

I have to give B more points here, for being patient. She had to keep explaining things and repeating herself, which must have been really frustrating.  For me, it seemed like there was so much to think about! Keep your head down, push the water up and over your hip with your arm, wait for one arm to come back to the front before you stroke with the other...and on and on and on. I was quickly realizing that swimming required something I didn't have a whole lot of...coordination! Who knew?

At the end of the hour-long session, B told me that I had made at least some progress. We both agreed that I definitely needed another lesson...or ten. 

The day after the first lesson, my lower back and butt were so sore I was hobbling. I knew the whole swim part was going to be hard, but I seriously miscalculated how horribly hard it would be. 

I can't even swim 50 meters without feeling like my lungs might burst and I will drown. How am I ever, ever going to swim 2.4 miles!?!? 

On your left!

So I decided to take Pink Lightning for a "long" ride. By long, I mean 10 miles. Yeah, it's not that long, especially compared to the 112 miles that I'm aiming for (eventually) but baby steps are very important here. Being ridiculously afraid of riding where there is traffic, I decided my first long-ish ride would take place at a local park that offers over 5 miles of paved paths. A lot of people ride their bikes there - well, a lot of little kids ride their bikes there while their parents walk beside them. 

Now, I've run on enough bike paths to know that a cyclist is supposed to yell "On your left!" when passing a walker or a runner. I'm pretty shy, and I knew I would feel awkward yelling out to someone when I was behind them. At first, that wasn't a problem because the paths weren't too crowded, and most people were walking far to one side, anyway.

I did have to call "On your left!" a few times, but luckily it wasn't as awkward as I had thought it would be. There was the old couple that couldn't seem to figure out right from left, forcing me to ride on the grass for a few feet, but that all worked out.

But toward the end, I did make the mistake of taking a path that had a small, wooden foot bridge in one section. I feel it's important to note that the bridge is not scenic in any way. It does not go over a river or anything like that; it is so unremarkable that I don't even remember what's underneath it. As I came upon the bridge, I was a little bit nervous, because it was narrow, and I was still wobbly on Pink Lightning. I could see a family of four (at least I assume it was a family) standing on one side of the bridge, looking over the edge and just chatting. At least one of the teenagers looked up and saw me, and by that point, I was riding almost as slowly as I could, to give the family time to move across the bridge.

The kid who saw me coming motioned to his family and they all looked my way. Relieved, I kept right on pedaling. But instead of walking on, all four of them tried to smoosh up against the railing. I only had a few seconds to react. Let me reiterate how small the bridge was. It was maybe wide enough to let two people stand side by side. It did NOT seem big enough to let a person on a bike pedal by four people.

I belatedly, and fruitfully, called out "On your left!" as I started onto the bridge. I really don't know why I bothered, considering that they definitely knew I was coming, but it just seemed like the right protocol. It didn't prompt any reaction from the family. I was terrified that I was going to swerve the tiniest bit and impale one of them on a handlebar. 

I came thisclose to hitting what I assume was the father of the bunch, and so I panicked and swerved to, the left. My front tire was about to smash into the side of the bridge, so I reached out and grabbed the railing with my hand to prevent contact between Pink Lightning's precious parts and the bridge. Unfortunately, contact between my hand and the rough wooden railing, while traveling over 5 miles per hour, did not result in anything pleasant. 

Once I got to the other end of the bridge and back on to the pavement, I was so distracted by the MILLIONS of splinters in my hand that I lost my balance and started to fall over, to the left. I tried to catch myself and make it look like I was just hopping off voluntarily, but that failed when I hit my crotch on the bar. Poor Pink Lightning hit the ground while I tripped and scuffled my way off of her to keep from face-planting.

The family on the bridge? They started laughing. Now, I can see how someone standing behind me would find humor in the scene. However, this little predicament was entirely their fault. For all I know, they plant themselves on that bridge every weekend and get their kicks out of sabotaging unsuspecting bikers. I haven't been back to find out. After I made sure Pink Lightning wasn't damaged, aside from a few small scratches (that in my opinion, give her character and make her look a little bad-@ss), I walked her around the bend to where the family couldn't see me before getting back on and riding to my car.

Next time I see that family of punks though, I am not going to give them the courtesy of calling "On your left!" If they happen to be in my way, too bad for them. I'm just going to keep on riding straight. A little taste of their own medicine might not hurt.     

I used to be afraid of riding in traffic, but now I know there's another hazard out there: Human traffic at a standstill.

Why won't the thingies work?

When I finally had Pink Lightning (my bike) all tuned up and ready to go, I headed out for a cautious test ride around the neighborhood. There is a perfect 1-mile loop on side streets around the block, with minimal traffic. It took me a few minutes to adjust to the riding position. On a road bike, the rider should look somewhat like this (note that is not me in the picture):

That's a bit different than the more upright position I was used to when riding a mountain bike as a kid. When I started out I felt a little off-balance. It seemed like I was supposed to be looking down, only I was terrified to do so, and every little hand or arm movement resulted in a pretty dramatic swerve - luckily, like I said, there was minimal traffic!

After about a half-mile or so, I started to relax my shoulders as I got used to the position. I decided it was time to practice changing gears and using the thumb-shifters. My bike has Shimano 2200 shifters, with brakes and shifting in one lever, according to the description on ebay. Did I know what that meant? Nope! I thought it couldn't be too hard to figure out though - I could easily see that there were little thumb lever thingies on the top brakes ("thingies" should be considered a technical term) and I figured pressing them up and down would change the gears. I was right - sort of.

I pedaled along and used my thumb to press down on the right lever. I heard a click and felt the gear shift. I was feeling quite proud of myself. With a click-click I shifted down two more gears. I was cruising along quite nicely, wondering if the occasional person passing by in a car thought I was a professional cyclist, and fantasizing about crossing the finish line at my first Ironman. I even had a fleeting thought that maybe I'd meet my goal before the end of the 3-year plan! 

Then, as I rounded a corner to go downhill, I thought I'd better shift back up. I pressed the thumb lever up and...nothing. No resistance, no click and change, the thingy just went up and flicked back down. I was a little bit confused, but kept riding and futilely pressing up on the lever with my thumb. At the end of about the third mile I was absolutely convinced that my Shimano shifters were broken. I cursed myself for buying a bike on the internet, ashamed to admit that maybe the snotty guy at the first bike shop was right. When I got back to the house I stuck Pink Lightning in the garage, glared at her for a while, and then kicked the cement stoop. 

The next day, I put the bike in the back of the car and hauled her back to the bike shop that had "built" her. I wheeled her in and a bike dude asked if he could help me. I told him I sure hoped he could help me, because his shop had tuned up my bike and something was wrong with the shifters. Her hoisted her up onto a stationary trainer, spun the pedals, and started shifting. I was hearing a whole lot more clicks than I ever shifted through on my ride. Hm.

I watched more closely. In addition to using the thumb shifter thingies, he was pressing the front brakes toward the inside as he shifted. WTF!?!?!? Ohhhhh...there were more shifting components than just the thumb levers next to the top brakes. Ohhhh...oh wait...wow I felt stupid. 

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong here..." said the bike dude. "Um..." I said. "Sometimes you just have to press at lot harder than you think," bike dude told me. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't pressing hard enough!" I told him. Strictly speaking, that was not a lie. I wasn't pressing hard enough...sure I wasn't pressing those other shifters at all, but I think that still qualifies. I took Pink Lightning and my pride, and left the bike shop a little bit wiser.

Next time, I'll research the shifting components before buying a bike...

Pink Lightning

The first thing I did after deciding I wanted to be an Ironman, was search for a road bike. OK fine, the first thing I did was try to convince my parents to buy me a road bike. A girl can dream, right? They said no. Luckily, my sister, who also runs, had met a triathlon coach at her gym, and she put me in contact with her. I shall call the triathlon coach "F". F had recently moved out of state, but I got her e-mail address and she agreed to give me some pointers. In January, after the Disneyworld marathon, she will start giving me triathlete training plans.

F told me that I didn't need a custom road bike to start off, which is a good thing, since custom bikes can cost several grand. She told me to look on Craigs List or ebay, and then take whatever bike I could find to a local bike shop for adjustments. I suck at using Craigs List, apparently. Every time I found a bike with potential I e-mailed right away, but man, there must be people out there with nothing better to do than lurk on Craigs List all day, because I was beaten to the punch every time. Plus, I'm super short and needed a really small bike, so there weren't a lot of options.

Then I found a seller on ebay that specialized in Dawes Sheila road bikes. She had "XS" frames, or 44 cm. And she had a PINK bike. I'm not very feminine, but I do love pink. I couldn't pass up the deal! My bike took 10 days to arrive and I was so excited when it got here!

My darling boyfriend, who imagines himself to be very handy, ripped the box open and started assembling the bike. Things went relatively smoothly until he couldn't figure out how to put the front brakes on. Brakes are pretty important, and not wanting to die, I decided I'd take the bike to a specialized shop.

The first shop I went to, which actually has a pretty good reputation in town, had employees that treated me like an idiot, and they ultimately lost my business. And the business of all the people I've talked to about bikes since then (take that mean bike shop people!) They basically reprimanded me for buying a bike online, and told me to send the bike back, and then come see them again so they could custom fit me for a bike. Um, yeah, I'll get right on that...

I looked up another shop online, and took the bike over there. They were really nice, and helpful, when I explained that I was a newbie and had gotten my bike online. They took all sorts of measurements with me sitting on the bike, and said they'd do a full "build", inspect everything to make sure it was safe, and cut the seat post down for me - yeah, I am really short.

It took ten more days to get the bike back, but that's totally worth it, because now it has front brakes, so I won't fall off my bike and hurt myself when I take it out for a ride. Rather, at least if I fall off my bike and hurt myself, it won't be because I didn't have brakes...

I think I shall call her Pink Lightning...

 

How it all began

When I started middle school, my parents said I had to pick one sport. I am potentially the most uncoordinated person in the world. Whenever I tried to play a sport that involved a ball, I ended up with a bloody nose or had the wind knocked out of me. I could not connect a foot or a bat with a ball. I was the girl people picked last in gym class. Taking that in to consideration, I (reluctantly) chose running. I was absolutely horrible at first. I came in last in almost every single race I ran for the first year. But for some reason, I fell in love with the sport. I liked being part of a team, but it was a very individual experience, too. Improvement was extremely tangible. By my second year, I was doing surprisingly well, and discovering the camaraderie of the running world, which only proved stronger and stronger as I finished up high school. For some reason, no matter what their other differences may be, runners just seemed to get each other, and become easy friends.

I ran for two years in college, before I decided I needed more time to socialize, aka go out and drink. After graduation, when I started a boring desk job, I found myself missing that part of my life. So I started out by jogging every once in a while. Then, by some twist of fate, I found out the cross-country coach from my high school alma mater was quitting, and I applied for the job. I spent 3 years coaching girls ages 12-18, and I remembered why I loved the sport, and started running more and more.

I started a new job 6 months ago, and the schedule just didn't allow time for coaching. I was sad to let it go, but I decided I'd focus on training for my first full marathon: Disneyworld 2010. And then...

...I went to watch Ironman Lake Placid 2009. It was - well, amazing. That's an understatement, but I can't come up with words to describe it. The entire weekend, the village was full of these awesome athletes, and the camaraderie was glaringly apparent. The tension and excitement level ran high. I had never seen such a palpable level of nerves and emotion as I did at the start of the competition. As an observer, I was giddy. I could only imagine what it felt like to be a participant. These athletes were truly inspirational.

That's when I decided that I would do that someday. I felt like I just had to. I called my parents and told them I wanted to be an Ironman and they laughed. My friends said, "OK, sure." I don't think they believe me, possibly because my "swimming" over the past 15 years has mostly taken the form of floating in a rec pool, and the last bike I owned got run over by my Dad's car 4 or 5 years ago...and I didn't really care.

BUT I am competitive, and once I set my mind to something, I get it done. I have what I am calling a 3 year plan. First year = sprint triathlon. Second year = half Ironman. And third year = full Ironman.

All that while balancing a full-time job and a relationship. Here goes nothing...or should I say, here goes everything?