Plugging along

I'm just chugging my way through my 18-week marathon training plan, while practicing my swimming and cycling. It's going by much more quickly than I thought it would, and at the same time, it's dragging. Don't you hate it when that happens? After Saturday, I will have completed 8 weeks of the plan! I'm nearly halfway there!

But, I am extremely nervous about doing a sprint triathlon in the late spring/summer. I thought 9 months would be more than enough time to get ready. However, I've been swimming for over 2 months now, and I can only swim 50 meters comfortably (sometimes 75) without stopping. The shortest swim in a sprint triathlon (that I know of) is 400 meters. That means, by my calculations, that I have about 7 months to add 350 meters to my swim. Unfortunately, instead of working on endurance right now, I'm still working on form and technique. Hopefully I'll have some sort of a breakthrough soon and be able to swim more consistently. My next official lesson is on November 20th. I hope B has good news for me then!

As for biking, I'm embarrassed to even talk about it, because I've been doing so little of it. The longest ride I've done still stands at 14 miles. It's almost time to move Pink Lightning inside for the winter! I bought an Ascent Fluid indoor bike trainer off of Craig's List, and soon enough Pink Lightning will reside in an alcove of my basement. I'm sort of hoping that once she's inside, staring me in the face everyday (our basement is finished and we use it as the family room), I'll be inclined to jump on and ride more often. Before I set up the trainer, I'm going to take Pink Lightning back to the shop and see about getting some clips for the pedals, so I can get used to using them over the winter. I also recently heard that there is a group of local bikers meeting once a week in a central location...hopefully in the spring I will feel confident enough to join them. 

And just for the fun of it, I'll post what my workout schedule was this week:

Monday: 3 mile run

Tuesday: 45 minutes of swimming drills

Wednesday: 6 mile run

Thursday: Rest

Friday: 3 mile run

Saturday: 13 mile run

Sunday: Rest or bike ride

As you can see, lots of running, some swimming, not nearly enough biking. Oy.

What a drag...

I'm talking about the drag of my lower body while I swim. I had another lesson with B on Friday. I've officially been swimming for over 2 months now, and I was hoping that I would be able to impress her with my rapid improvements in form and technique. When I got to the pool at 6:30 on Friday morning, B was finishing up her own workout, so she told me to hop in and do some warm-up laps and she'd be right back. I started swimming in exactly the same fashion I've been practicing - just jump in and start freestyling. When I glanced up after my second lap, B was watching me with her arms folded across her chest.

"OK!" she said. "OK..." she repeated, rubbing her hands together. That's when I knew that she wasn't awed or impressed by my swimming abilities. B told me that the main problem was the drag that my lower body was creating, slowing me down and forcing my arms to do double the work. Basically, I wasn't using my legs, glutes, or core, and was pulling myself through the water using solely my arms, dragging my legs behind me like a paralytic. And, as I should have known, because this is almost always the case, the core is the most important component of all things athletic - the core is the body's powerhouse. 

The other problem - OK one of the other problems, because let's face it, there were many - with my technique was that I was only breathing to one side. I'm just much more comfortable breathing to my right side. But, B explained, if you only breathe to one side every time you swim, the whole time you swim, the muscles on that side become stronger and more developed than on the other side, leading to an overall imbalance. Actually, she said, Michael Phelps only ever breathes to one side, and if you look closely you can tell he isn't balanced - he could actually improve his technique, she said. I understand that she was just giving me an example, but I mean HELLO, Phelps is only like the greatest swimmer ever, so if he can get away with breathing to only one side, why can't I?? Whatever.

The result of all this was that B had me go all the way back to the start, and work on the simplest drills again. How frustrating. I really think that part of what is making this whole thing so hard for me is my lack of coordination. While I'm swimming, I'm constantly mentally checking all the parts of my body to make sure they're doing what they are supposed to. Head down, but not too far down, chin tucked to chest, arms out at slight 'Y', elbows straight, core strong, butt up above water, legs kicking, feet fluttering...so many things to remember! When you add breathing while trying not to swallow water and drown to the mix...there is too much to keep track of!

Eventually, after working on all the basic drills, I got to a point on Friday where I did two lengths, with a double stroke, still only breathing to the right, where B said my form was "excellent." YES! But when I tried to progress to a triple stroke, alternating breathing to each side, the whole thing fell apart. It's the coordination factor, I'm telling you! I was paying so much attention to stroking exactly three times and breathing to the correct side that I got confused, missed a breath, panicked, flailed, etc.

Then B gave me a science lesson using a pool noodle, and a ball. "I always give this lesson to the kids I teach, but maybe I should do it with the adults, too," she said. Ha. Great. Anyway, the ball represented the lungs, and the noodle represented the body. She showed me how, while swimming, the majority of the body should be over and out in front of the lungs, rather than dragging down behind them. Then, she told me that until my next lesson, I should practice double stroking, but breathing to each side. She also said I should work on strengthening my core, my powerhouse, which I thought I was doing sufficiently just by all the exercising I do combined with the strength class I take every Monday...but I guess I'll be doing some extra planks and crunches from now on.

On Saturday, my lower back was very sore, which is exactly how it should NOT feel after swimming. Darn that weak core and my dragging legs. I still have a very long way to go, but I have some hope. After all, Michael Phelps isn't perfect either, according to B...

I don't know though...his body looks perfectly balanced...any comparison between myself and Michael Phelps is a-OK with me!! 

I hope my dreams do not come true

I'm talking about my literal dreams. The ones I have at night, while I'm watching the picture-shows behind my eyelids. Let me preface this by saying that I have always been prone to having anxiety-fueled dreams about "the worst thing that could happen" in an important situation. Actually, "important situation" is a relative phrase, since in high school that meant having dreams that my dress didn't fit, my date didn't show up, and my hair wouldn't hold curls, in the weeks leading up to prom. But you get the idea. In college I'd dream that I forgot to write a paper, couldn't remember what class I was supposed to be in, or overslept and missed a final exam. These days my anxiety dreams tend to be work-related - missing a deadline, forgetting to do an interview, or making some grievous error that leads to being fired. Apparently, large competitions will now qualify as "important situations" in which I fear that the worst will happen. Lovely. 

I'll start with the nightmare I had about an Ironman competition, just because that dream came first, chronologically. I suspect the impetus of the dream was watching the Ironman World Championships, which took place in Kona, and realizing once again how crowded and crazy the swim starts are. In my nightmare, I was not actually taking part in the race, I was just watching from the sidelines. The race started, the swimmers took off, and it was so chaotic that the competitors in the water were hitting and kicking each other in their quest to get out in front. Horrified, I watched from my spot next to the water as a young woman was kicked so hard in the head (accidentally) that it snapped her neck, and she started to drown. It was so early on in the race, and still so crowded, that it was impossible for the officials in kayaks to see what had happened. In fact, it seemed like I was the only one who had seen it. I started running around trying to find someone to alert, but no one paid me the least bit of attention. It was only when the entire competition (all three portions of it!) was over, and officials noticed that one competitor had never finished, that people suspected what had happened. At that point, the officials in kayaks went back out into the water and started to search the bottom of the lake and...well, you can imagine what they found. Now the really odd part (ha as if any part of this dream wasn't odd) was that no one actually seemed to be that concerned. Everyone brushed it off, saying "These things happen all the time, it's a risk the athletes are willing to take." In my dream I thought, "Yeah, right, that's not a risk I'm willing to take. Forget this Ironman shit!" Of course when I woke up, I realized I just have an incredibly anxious/disturbing thought process, but honestly, I hope that type of triathlon dream doesn't recur over the next...oh, three years it could take me to reach my goal.

Before you scream and run away and refuse to read anymore of my morbidity, I'll tell you that the marathon-gone-wrong nightmare was much less dark. I was actually the main character in it, rather than an observer, and it was a more typical representation of my disorganized dreams. It all started on the morning of the marathon, when I arrived at the proper location, and the announcer said the race would be starting an hour early due to an inexplicable heat wave. I panicked because I hadn't had time to warm up, use the bathroom, or fuel properly. In an effort to make the best of what I had, I groped furiously for a gel or some jelly beans, and all I could find was a bright orange Powerbar. (I absolutely can not stand or stomach Powerbars in real life). Since it was all I had, I took a few bites before I gagged. When I looked up, I realized everyone was lined up at the start, about to take off, and so I had to sprint to catch up. Then, instead of a road race, the marathon course was set up like an obstacle course. One of the first things we had to do was climb a ladder that was propped up against a brick building, and then scale across some extremely narrow window ledges, until we reached the other end of the building, at which point we were supposed to climb down a second ladder. I froze because I am scared of heights, and all of the other competitors were yelling at me to get moving. Another of the course obstacles involved running through a corn maze in a giant field. At some point during the race I burst into tears, because I couldn't believe everything was going so badly. There were a few more awful details, like attempting to drink Lemon-Lime Gatorade (my least favorite flavor) while on the run and spilling it all over my shoes, so that they squished and squashed and caused blisters for the rest of the race. Then, instead of a straight finishing chute, the final .2 miles was another maze, made of string, which I had to zig-zag through, while the finish line was in my sight. The time it took me to finish the marathon was so pathetically awful and slow that I cried again. I told my family that I wanted to run another marathon the next weekend to vindicate myself, and I was told that I could only run one marathon per year. And cue the alarm - I woke up at that point.

I am sure some dream analysts could give me a million different meanings behind my dreams. But I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to uncover the real root of the nightmares. I'm freaked out and worried that everything will fall apart and go wrong in my races - the ones I'm already registered for, and the ones I'm only contemplating. 

Now we're back to the title of my post - I really hope my literal dreams do not come true. I also hope they abate somewhat, or else I'm going to be perpetually exhausted for the next three years...

Fall?? Where are you??

It seems that Mother Nature has entirely skipped over the Autumnal season this year. The weather went from 70 degrees and humid, to 40 degrees (as a high for the day!) with a frost on the ground. I do NOT do well with the cold weather. On my run yesterday morning, I had to wear fleece-lined tights and my Sugoi hooded top with built-in mittens. The sign along my route that flashes the temperature periodically (which, oddly, is in front of a strip club) read 34 degrees. My breath hovered in front of me the entire way. Some guy walking his dog called "It's not that cold out here!" to which I haughtily replied "I am really sensitive to the cold." 

And it's true. Some people would have overheated with all the clothes I was wearing. Some people would probably be comfortable wearing a lot less - like the guy working on his car wearing shorts and a t-shirt (wtf!?!?). But I was completely comfortable with all my layers on. I didn't get hot at all.

That got me thinking. How on earth am I going to train through November and December for a marathon in January? If I'm putting on my warmest, thickest clothing mid-October, I'll have to come up with some sort of insulated, personal heater-type suit of armor in order to run outside in the coming months. I have a $25 coupon to Fleet Feet, but I don't think they sell suits of armor there. Maybe I can pick up an extra jacket though.

Now, I know that I was running outside up until January last year, but somehow I still can't fathom doing it this year, especially when it's incredibly hard to force myself out there in the Fall!

But, I will have to carry on. I will be running both an 18-miler and a 20-miler in December, and I'm sure as hell not going to run those on a treadmill. I shudder at the thought of my frozen toes and fingers, my frostbitten nose and ears. Next year, I'm picking a spring marathon.

At least I'll be able to ride my bike inside. I got an indoor trainer for it off of Craig's List! But more on that later...

Double digits!

So I finally, for the first time since January, had a double-digit run. I ran 10 miles yesterday! In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't seem like a "long run", but I think it's an important milestone (pun intended). I had to take a 3-month break from running, starting in January, when I developed a stress fracture in my right foot. The fracture was my own fault, because I stupidly started running further distances and faster paces when I was under-trained. The whole problem began shortly after I jumped into double-digit runs, which is why I was nervous to make that leap this time. Luckily, starting in April, I have built my mileage up very slowly, both in distance and pace, so I was a lot more prepared.

I couldn't convince anyone to go with me on the run - my sister was resting because she ran a half marathon today (more on that later) and darling boyfriend said he would be glad to bike the distance while I ran, only he doesn't have a bike. I didn't want to run on the local bike path alone, since people have been known to get attacked (by people and dogs) while running there, so I headed over to a park that has about 5 miles of paved trails (some may remember this park from my earlier post about the family on the foot bridge). I didn't wear an ipod, because it's against the rules to wear one during races, and I want to get used to running without music now. Suffice it to say that 10 miles of running with no company and no music is a whole lot of time to spend in my own head.

I started off at a really conservative pace, and hit the first mile at about 9:44. I had concocted a plan that would allow me to hit the halfway point (5 miles) back at the parking lot and my car, where I would take a Gu and some water before doing the next 5 miles. Even though I'd be able to stop at my car, I wore my SPIbelt for the first time, just so I could get used to the way it felt. Touted as the "original small personal item belt", the SPIbelt is basically a pocket attached to an elastic band that clips around the waist and isn't supposed to move or bounce while you run. 

That picture is totally me, and those are totally my abs. OK fine, they're not. Anyway. True to its claims, I hardly felt the belt when I ran - in fact I literally forgot I was wearing it. Of course, all I had in it was a bandaid, a Gu, and my car key, but still. It was surprisingly comfortable. But I digress.

I basically held steady at a 9:25 pace after the first mile. I didn't get too bored running along the paths because there were quite a few walkers, joggers, bikers, and really cute dogs to look at. Additionally, there was a really big farmer's market being held at one end of the park, and I kept seeing people walking back to their cars with their arms full of goodies like apples, cider donuts, squash, cheese, and fresh milk. I fantasized about stopping and getting some treats for a good 20 minutes or so.


I got back to my car around 47 minutes into the run, and braced myself for my first experimentation with fuel. I thought I had bought and brought a Clif Shot, but it turned out I had a Gu, which I had heard terrible things about. It was Tri Berry flavor and apparently contained caffeine. It had gotten a little warm from sitting snug against my body in the SPIbelt, but I ripped the package open, squeezed, and hoped for the best. Unfortunately, I got the worst. It was disgusting. The texture alone was abominable. It coated my mouth and felt gooey and sticky, and I chugged half a bottle of water just to get it down my throat. I gagged a little and a man pulling up next to me in the parking lot laughed. I chugged the other half of my water just to get rid of the taste, which seemed very chemically to me. It was all around yucky.


After I recovered a little from the trauma of the Gu, and re-tied my shoes, I took off on the second half of my run. The only benefit of the Gu was that it gave me something to ponder during the next couple of miles. I was trying to come up with a product similar in texture, so I could adequately describe it to someone who'd never tried Gu. After about 2 miles I finally had it - warm Vaseline. That was exactly it. If you can imagine trying to swallow a mouthful of Vaseline that has melted a little bit, you can imagine what it's like trying to take a Gu. I won't say the Gu didn't do its job as far as fueling goes, because I felt fine for the rest of the run. On the other hand, I don't really think I need to fuel on a 10-mile run. The main purpose of experimenting with it yesterday was to get an idea of what will or won't work on marathon day (and in subsequent triathlons). I think I'll try something different on the next long run - hopefully something that won't make me gag, which I admit I do even just thinking about that stupid Gu.


Trying to come up with a proper Gu metaphor got me through 2 miles, and I got through the last 3 by promising myself I would stop at the farmer's market when I was done. Chocolate milk is supposed to be a really good recovery drink (something about the right combination of protein/carbs/fat) and I thought I'd snag a pint. And maybe a baked good while I was at it. The day had turned really windy, and my ears were hurting from the cold, but I sped up during the last portion anyway, as I usually do when I know the end is near and I don't feel like I'm about to die. I went just under 9 minutes per mile for the last 2 miles.


After I finished, I stretched for a good 5 minutes, then got in my car and drove to the other end of the park to hit up the market (yes I had just run 10 miles, and no, I didn't feel like walking the quarter of a mile it would take me to get to the farmer's market. It was cold outside). I grabbed my chocolate milk, and I wanted to spend more time browsing the goodies, but it was really windy and cold, so I skipped straight to the bakery table, where I got two giant black and white cookies and an almond-poppyseed muffin. I chugged the milk as soon as I got back to the car, and saved the muffin to eat with my coffee later.


So, I made it back to my double-digit runs, and (knock on wood) nothing horrible happened to my legs. I'm hardly sore at all today (that chocolate milk must really work!), my feet haven't fallen off, I don't even have so much as a black toenail! And, to top it off, I hit 20 miles for the week! That makes me happy.



* I would be remiss if I didn't take a minute to give a shout-out to my older sister, who ran a half-marathon today, smashing her personal record by 5 minutes, clocking in at 1:35 for the 13.1 miles, and thereby qualifying for the NYC marathon in 2010. She may kill me for saying this, but it's my blog and I can do whatever I want. My sister ran in high school, halfheartedly in college, and then gained a whole lot of weight after college. It was only about 2 years ago that she decided to take it up again, and she has proceeded on with single-minded dedication, shedding the weight and dropping her times. Stay tuned to see how she does in the Philadelphia marathon at the end of November.

Of course, I'd also be remiss if I did not add: Sister, you better watch out, because I am going to KICK YOUR BUTT. Eventually. I guess you could call yourself an inspiration or a motivating factor or something. Just don't let it go to your head.

Updates and anecdotes

I'll start with the anecdotes, and I have one for each activity. 2 involve kids, and one, weirdly, involves an old man. None of them have anything to do with technique or fitness.


Running anecdote: Sometimes if I need to be to work earlier than usual, I drag myself out of bed at an ungodly hour for a run. Last week, I started my circuit around the neighborhood at around 7 am (I have a one mile loop around the block I use for shorter runs). 7 am happens to be the time when all the kids are out on the various corners, waiting to be picked up by the school bus. Down on one corner, a group of boys ranging in ages from about 8-12 were clustered up talking and punching each other and generally acting like little boys do. They stared at me as I ran by on my first loop. They punched each other and stared at me as I rounded the corner for the second time. The third time I made an appearance, one of the boys was pushed out from the group to stand in front of me. "You're really fast!" he said. "You just ran around the whole block in like, 5 minutes!" I laughed and said thank you, continued on my way, and allowed him to think I had really just completed a 5-minute mile. Hardly anyone ever calls me fast, so I wanted to revel a little in the undeserved glory. But I was also left wondering why these kids had been waiting for the bus for 20+ minutes. I'd be really annoyed if I had to stand outside every morning for 20 minutes...

Swimming anecdote: This is the one that involves an old man, and if anyone can make sense of it, please let me know, as I am dying of curiosity. Every Tuesday when I go to the pool, there are 4 or 5 men doing laps during open swim (I'm almost always the only woman, except on the occasions that B is giving me a lesson). One of the men, who must be a regular, wears a Speedo. He is very large. And he is very hairy. Which is all well and good. I noticed some time ago that he kept a pair of white tube socks at the edge of the pool, by the end of his lane. I thought it was a little bit strange, but dismissed it pretty quickly, thinking he probably didn't have sandals, and just wore his socks in the pool area to avoid getting athlete's foot. Until last week. Last Tuesday, he was in the lane to my right, and when I was finishing up a lap, I happened to glance over just in time to see him putting his socks on. In the pool. Under the water. Hm. I kept watching, and he proceeded to do a few laps, while wearing his tube socks, before he took them off and replaced them at the edge of the pool. Baffling. This past Tuesday, sure enough, the big, hairy, Speedo-wearing man was there, as were his socks. The socks were different this time, they were ankle-length Hanes athletic socks, but his process remained the same. He swam some laps without the socks, put them on and swam a few laps, took them off and swam some more. I'm stumped. Is there some sort of benefit to swimming in your socks that a newbie like me should know about? I'm to embarrassed to ask him outright...

Biking anecdote: I went for a 10-mile ride a few days ago, on local neighborhood roads. As I took a left turn and crossed a road, a little boy, probably around 3, started shouting at me. "You're not supposed to ride in the road!" he said. I smiled at him. He turned around to his mom, who was locking the door of the house. "MOM SHE'S RIDING HER BIKE IN THE ROAD!" he told her. The little tattletale! I was gone before I knew what her response was, but it's funny that little kids think the rules their parents give them apply universally. Although I have to give him points for knowing proper safety procedures. And, as my sister pointed out, I'm quite small, and may have looked like a little girl riding a pink bike...

On to the updates.

Running: I managed to screw up the training plan that I printed out for myself for the marathon, which resulted in the initial thought that I had added in an extra week. So I skipped a 3-miler last week, and then realized I hadn't, in fact, added an extra week. Therefore, I was 3 miles behind my target mileage for last week. Oh well. It's the long runs that are important. I have my first double-digit long run (10 miles), since my stress fracture in January, coming up this weekend! I will soon be experimenting with fueling - Gu, Clif Shots, Luna chews, and all that jazz.

Biking: Not too much to report here. I've done a few 10 mile rides, a few 5 mile rides, and my longest ride, 14 miles. I'm not sure if I should count the 14-miler though, because I rode alongside my sister while she ran, which made it a slow ride. Plus, when we came to an intersection, I attempted to follow traffic rules by sticking out my left arm to indicate a left turn, and I fell off my bike. And then walked through the intersection. And all the subsequent intersections. Oops.

Swimming: The good news is I can now swim 75 meters freestyle without stopping to pant and catch my breath!! The bad news is, that's still over 2 miles away from the distance of an Ironman swim. Er...at least my form is getting better. I think. Well. Practice makes perfect.

How do people do this??

Wow, balancing running, biking, and swimming is hard, hence the title of this post. Trying to practice all 3 activities weekly is proving difficult, leaving me to wonder how some of the more hardcore triathletes out there make time for all 3 daily. I'm impressed, to say the least. I also feel decidedly inadequate.

If I haven't mentioned it before, I'm training for my first full marathon, in addition to jump-starting my triathlon training. I'm already registered to run the Disneyworld marathon in January 2010. I'm not even into the higher mileage weeks yet, and already running takes up a significant chunk of my time. To roughly outline what my marathon training plan dictates, I run four times a week (Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday) and cross-train once a week, which leaves two days open for rest. I've been doing my swimming on Tuesdays, and that takes care of the cross-training day. But I feel like I need to do at least one bike ride a week, too, so I've been trying to push myself to do a ride on Thursday or Sunday. 

When you combine that with working 40 hours per week (including some occasional very late deadline nights), trying to sleep at least 8 hours a night, cooking relatively healthy meals, and having a social life...well, something's got to give.

I have come to the conclusion that before I can start full-blown triathlon training, following a strict plan created by a coach, I'm going to have to come up with a different type of plan...a "balance plan" if you will. I'm not sure exactly what it will look like, but the first item on my list is going to deal with cooking and eating. Last week, when I worked past 10 p.m. twice, I ate a sandwich for dinner on two different nights, and a can of soup on another. Not only is that not nearly enough food, it also seems pretty unhealthy. And on the two nights that I ate sandwiches, I came home to find out that my darling boyfriend had eaten Sunchips (the first night) and tortilla chips with cheese dip (the second night). And not for appetizers, either. For meals.*

So, I am going to experiment with "cook ahead and freeze" meals. We grocery shop once a week, so if I make lists of ingredients for 2 or 3 different meals, cook them on the weekend, and then freeze, label, and date them, we will have things to heat-and-eat on the nights I work late, or on nights where I'm just very tired and don't feel like cooking. 

That one change alone could save me...maybe 30 minutes to an hour on any given week day? It's worth a try!

And to all those out there who work full-time, have families, and are triathletes, let alone IRONMEN...I give you this:

(that's applause, by the way).

* Note - My darling boyfriend can, and will cook (and he's good at it, too), it's just that he gets lazy and distracted if I'm not here to remind him to eat dinner.