.... and saw the water entrance and exit and the bike entrance and exit and the transition areas and practiced running up the really big hill that starts our run (after our swim and our bike) as well as a couple more miles, after breaking one of the cardinal rules of training: don't switch shoes, but I did switch shoes, because my left foot has hurt so much, and in fact I ran both miles (we did them separately) without having to stop, in 9 minutes each, which makes me think the shoes were a good broken rule, and then after all that, I got my guts up to ask one of the coaches what he thought might help for someone (me) who is completely prepared, has gone to almost every practice, is fit (lame, but fit) and yet is dreading the race. He looked a little scared of my question, but he went for it, and he said -- well, you have come this far, and you've done it for charity, for people who need you to be there for them, and so I guess you should just go the rest of the way for those people who need you to be there for them. I found this to be on the one hand, incredibly useful -- because I do in fact know how to go into the mode of shutting down and pushing through and being there for other people, and in fact, that might be what I do next Sunday. On the other hand, I found it to be incredibly sad because I was looking for some other guidance -- something outside of my head-down plough-through bullishness -- something that could open a window to my own enjoyment, pride, and sense of accomplishment. I thanked him, and we kept talking a bit, and then he said something interesting. He told me he loves to train, but he doesn't like to race. He doesn't like the crowds (me either) or the pressure (me either) or the high levels of stress (me either.) So what he does is he finds small races -- mom and pop races -- races where he feels like he's getting to do what he likes to do without all the crowds, pressure, or stress. And for some reason this helped me. I don't think I'm likely to go find those races and continue in the sport, but it gave me a little hope that I can take the parts I like from this experience, and transform it into something meaningful and enjoyable to me.
Showing posts with label Team in Training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Team in Training. Show all posts
Sunday, July 31, 2011
I had my last Team in Training group triathlon practice
Never Done: I had my last Team in Training group triathlon practice
Monday, June 6, 2011
I completed a triathlon
Never Done: I completed a (sprint) triathlon
Back in March when I signed up for the Flat as a Pancake Triathlon, it sounded like a piece of cake, ehem, so to speak. 1/4 mile swim? No problem! 12 mile bike ride on a flat course? I can do that. 5K run? At the time I wasn't already running 5K, but it was within sight. The whole thing seemed completely within my reach. Since then I've trained hard , and my muscles have gotten stronger, and I've learned about triathlon culture and nutrition and gear, and yet somehow the prospect of doing the event got more and more daunting. I guess sometimes ignorance is bliss.
But let me take a step back. I've been training now for 12 weeks, and I have 10 weeks left before the big New York Triathlon. I'm turning down dates with friends so I can get to bed early so I can get up early to go out and ride or run. And while I'm out there training, I'm not really enjoying myself because I have whatever I have (exercise induced asthma?) that's making it so hard for me to breathe right. I don't mean to complain -- this is something I am choosing to do -- but I do want to be honest in my evaluation of what I've chosen. I think that at this point, if I were just doing this as a solo pursuit, I would probably stop. But I'm not really doing it for me. I am doing it as a part of Team in Training (that link is my personal fundraising page) as a fundraiser for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and so I'm motivated by something outside of my own enjoyment. Many of you know that my mom died of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, and also right now the 4-year-old grandson of one of my family's closest friends is going through intense treatment for Burkitt's lymphoma. I think about him and his family a lot while I'm out there on the road, and as off as it might sound (I don't usually go for out-of-context comparisons) I think that he can endure the treatments he's going through, then I can ride harder and longer around the park. But the part that's harder for me to come to terms with is that my friends and family are taking a hit -- a hit they didn't choose. I've not been as available as usual for the past 3 months, and it's not going to be getting better til after August 7, at which point I intend to hibernate on a remote island with a steady supply of fresh juices and leg massages. (I don't actually intend to do that. I intend to fantasize about doing that.)
Speaking of leg massages, as you know, I got one in preparation for the Pancake triathlon, and except for left calf cramping on the final stretch of the run, my legs held out fine. The end of the story is that I did the whole race, and I was neither the slowest person in the triathlon nor in my age group. (Not that it would have mattered if I had been...) My muscles felt toned and strong, and I had all the right equipment, and I felt that I knew how to perform in all three sports. But my breath left me again. It is the strangest thing, because it's not about over-exertion because it starts as soon as I start to exercise. It doesn't wait for me to going hard; it just preemptively keeps me from going hard.
The water temperature was 60 degrees in Raritan Bay, so that probably sent my lungs into protective mode pretty quickly. I wasn't wearing a wetsuit, but I had made an excellent decision in deciding to buy a neoprine rash guard (tight long sleeved shirt made out of insulated floaty stuff) that spared me all the wetsuit freak-out I experienced in the water a week ago. The water didn't feel all that cold to me, and I certainly wasn't exerting myself too hard in 10 minutes of swimming really quite slowly, but I just had a really hard time getting enough air. I mean, is this anxiety instead of exercise-induced asthma? A lung doctor had me run up and down his stairway 6 times last week, and then listened to my lungs and heard a tell-tale wheeze, so he thinks it's the latter. But could it also be the former? Or does EIA feel like anxiety? I did my best to push these thoughts from my mind as I swam 1/4 mile in the ocean, and ran to the transition area to put on my biking gear and go.
Everything about the day was a surprise to me; I did better at biking, which I consider to be my weak sport, than I did at anything else. I rode steadily, I was able to push a little, I was able to focus on spinning my legs faster than usual (you're supposed to spin them as fast as you want to run, so it will feel somewhat normal to get off a bike and start running) and I wasn't too winded. Also, I was in the last wave of athletes to enter the water (women over 40) so that meant that by the time I got to the final lap of biking, I was one of the final people on the road -- so I had plenty of space around me, and plenty of time to notice the place where it smelled lovely like a claredendron tree, and the old man smoking a cigar near the baseball field, to wave at all the cops guarding the closed-off streets. (Since I was frequently the only cyclist going around the lap turn, the photographer got lots of action shots of me that I imagine will be up on their website soon.)
Finally I got off the bike and I got on my own two legs, and that's where my breath just completely failed me, right from the start. I took, literally, a dozen easy steps and I was breathing like I had already run a hard mile. So ducked into the port-o-potty to pee, thinking the minute would help my breath get more steady, and it calmed right down, but as soon as I started to run again, it was the same story. So I ran a really slow 5K -- 36 minutes, which included several stops to bring my breathing down so I could start running again. I was able to push for the last 50 yards, avoiding tripping over a little dog -- and its leash that was stretched across the track to the finish line, with Josh and Kelley and Aleza cheering me on at the end, gulping for breath as I finished. And then as quickly as my breathing had become labored, it came back to normal within a couple minutes of finishing. And then we ate pancakes. (The course is flat as a pancake and then they serve pancakes.)
For those of you who like hard statistical data, here's my results page.
The swimming pace just seems random to me -- I can swim 1/4 mile in a pool in 8 minutes at a moderate pace, but that's just totally different from swimming in cold choppy water with other people swimming up on top of you. I usually ride the hilly 3.6 mile loop around Prospect Park in 15 minutes, so I thought it made some sense that I rode the flat 4 miles loops in something close to that. And I can run 4 hilly miles in 36 minutes, so I should be able to run a flat 5K in closer to 30 minutes -- but I have no idea what would be normal for me after swimming and biking.
It's hard not to get into a game of comparisons -- comparing my performance against my own performance under different circumstances, and against other people in my age group, or even out of my age group. I raced with two friends who are 30. When I got home, I compared my times to theirs (my swim was a minute faster than one and 10 seconds slower than the other; my bike was 2 minutes faster than one and 4 minutes slower than the other; my run was 12 minutes slower than one and 4 minutes slower than the other.) But what does this mean? Maybe I've trained longer or have a faster bike or learned how to swim younger or shouldn't have stopped to pee during the run. Maybe they got less sleep than I did, or entered the race with completely different goals than I did. And yet, I am still fighting off a little bit of gloating (which I think is problematic ethically) that I am 18 years older than them, and performed as well or better than them in most areas. I also think it's ethically problematic when I console myself that my friend did such a great run by reminding myself that she's 18 years younger. Because I think that negates all the hard work she puts into getting in that kind of shape. Just because she's 30 doesn't guarantee that she can run 5K in 28 minutes.
I started out this post writing about enjoyment, and I've come to comparison, and I don't think it's a coincidence. Because really, what kills enjoyment more than comparison? This isn't as fun as I hoped it was going to be. She's not as good in this movie as she was in her last movie. I used to look great in that dress. I thought (puff, puff, puff) this running (puff puff puff) was going to be easier (puff) than this (puff puff.) Ass opposed to perhaps (not that this is a comparison) staying in the present, and noticing that I am still running, and the ocean is beautiful, and an hour ago I was in it, and now I am running alongside it, and people are cheering for me, and I am having a hard time breathing but it's OK if I need to stop and catch my breath, and I'm learning a lot about my abilities and limitations, and that's a cute dog but it shouldn't be in the middle of the course -- better not trip over its leash. Oh wow, I did it! I finished a sprint triathlon in an hour and forty two minutes.
Back in March when I signed up for the Flat as a Pancake Triathlon, it sounded like a piece of cake, ehem, so to speak. 1/4 mile swim? No problem! 12 mile bike ride on a flat course? I can do that. 5K run? At the time I wasn't already running 5K, but it was within sight. The whole thing seemed completely within my reach. Since then I've trained hard , and my muscles have gotten stronger, and I've learned about triathlon culture and nutrition and gear, and yet somehow the prospect of doing the event got more and more daunting. I guess sometimes ignorance is bliss.
But let me take a step back. I've been training now for 12 weeks, and I have 10 weeks left before the big New York Triathlon. I'm turning down dates with friends so I can get to bed early so I can get up early to go out and ride or run. And while I'm out there training, I'm not really enjoying myself because I have whatever I have (exercise induced asthma?) that's making it so hard for me to breathe right. I don't mean to complain -- this is something I am choosing to do -- but I do want to be honest in my evaluation of what I've chosen. I think that at this point, if I were just doing this as a solo pursuit, I would probably stop. But I'm not really doing it for me. I am doing it as a part of Team in Training (that link is my personal fundraising page) as a fundraiser for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and so I'm motivated by something outside of my own enjoyment. Many of you know that my mom died of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, and also right now the 4-year-old grandson of one of my family's closest friends is going through intense treatment for Burkitt's lymphoma. I think about him and his family a lot while I'm out there on the road, and as off as it might sound (I don't usually go for out-of-context comparisons) I think that he can endure the treatments he's going through, then I can ride harder and longer around the park. But the part that's harder for me to come to terms with is that my friends and family are taking a hit -- a hit they didn't choose. I've not been as available as usual for the past 3 months, and it's not going to be getting better til after August 7, at which point I intend to hibernate on a remote island with a steady supply of fresh juices and leg massages. (I don't actually intend to do that. I intend to fantasize about doing that.)
Speaking of leg massages, as you know, I got one in preparation for the Pancake triathlon, and except for left calf cramping on the final stretch of the run, my legs held out fine. The end of the story is that I did the whole race, and I was neither the slowest person in the triathlon nor in my age group. (Not that it would have mattered if I had been...) My muscles felt toned and strong, and I had all the right equipment, and I felt that I knew how to perform in all three sports. But my breath left me again. It is the strangest thing, because it's not about over-exertion because it starts as soon as I start to exercise. It doesn't wait for me to going hard; it just preemptively keeps me from going hard.
The water temperature was 60 degrees in Raritan Bay, so that probably sent my lungs into protective mode pretty quickly. I wasn't wearing a wetsuit, but I had made an excellent decision in deciding to buy a neoprine rash guard (tight long sleeved shirt made out of insulated floaty stuff) that spared me all the wetsuit freak-out I experienced in the water a week ago. The water didn't feel all that cold to me, and I certainly wasn't exerting myself too hard in 10 minutes of swimming really quite slowly, but I just had a really hard time getting enough air. I mean, is this anxiety instead of exercise-induced asthma? A lung doctor had me run up and down his stairway 6 times last week, and then listened to my lungs and heard a tell-tale wheeze, so he thinks it's the latter. But could it also be the former? Or does EIA feel like anxiety? I did my best to push these thoughts from my mind as I swam 1/4 mile in the ocean, and ran to the transition area to put on my biking gear and go.
Everything about the day was a surprise to me; I did better at biking, which I consider to be my weak sport, than I did at anything else. I rode steadily, I was able to push a little, I was able to focus on spinning my legs faster than usual (you're supposed to spin them as fast as you want to run, so it will feel somewhat normal to get off a bike and start running) and I wasn't too winded. Also, I was in the last wave of athletes to enter the water (women over 40) so that meant that by the time I got to the final lap of biking, I was one of the final people on the road -- so I had plenty of space around me, and plenty of time to notice the place where it smelled lovely like a claredendron tree, and the old man smoking a cigar near the baseball field, to wave at all the cops guarding the closed-off streets. (Since I was frequently the only cyclist going around the lap turn, the photographer got lots of action shots of me that I imagine will be up on their website soon.)
Finally I got off the bike and I got on my own two legs, and that's where my breath just completely failed me, right from the start. I took, literally, a dozen easy steps and I was breathing like I had already run a hard mile. So ducked into the port-o-potty to pee, thinking the minute would help my breath get more steady, and it calmed right down, but as soon as I started to run again, it was the same story. So I ran a really slow 5K -- 36 minutes, which included several stops to bring my breathing down so I could start running again. I was able to push for the last 50 yards, avoiding tripping over a little dog -- and its leash that was stretched across the track to the finish line, with Josh and Kelley and Aleza cheering me on at the end, gulping for breath as I finished. And then as quickly as my breathing had become labored, it came back to normal within a couple minutes of finishing. And then we ate pancakes. (The course is flat as a pancake and then they serve pancakes.)
For those of you who like hard statistical data, here's my results page.
The swimming pace just seems random to me -- I can swim 1/4 mile in a pool in 8 minutes at a moderate pace, but that's just totally different from swimming in cold choppy water with other people swimming up on top of you. I usually ride the hilly 3.6 mile loop around Prospect Park in 15 minutes, so I thought it made some sense that I rode the flat 4 miles loops in something close to that. And I can run 4 hilly miles in 36 minutes, so I should be able to run a flat 5K in closer to 30 minutes -- but I have no idea what would be normal for me after swimming and biking.
It's hard not to get into a game of comparisons -- comparing my performance against my own performance under different circumstances, and against other people in my age group, or even out of my age group. I raced with two friends who are 30. When I got home, I compared my times to theirs (my swim was a minute faster than one and 10 seconds slower than the other; my bike was 2 minutes faster than one and 4 minutes slower than the other; my run was 12 minutes slower than one and 4 minutes slower than the other.) But what does this mean? Maybe I've trained longer or have a faster bike or learned how to swim younger or shouldn't have stopped to pee during the run. Maybe they got less sleep than I did, or entered the race with completely different goals than I did. And yet, I am still fighting off a little bit of gloating (which I think is problematic ethically) that I am 18 years older than them, and performed as well or better than them in most areas. I also think it's ethically problematic when I console myself that my friend did such a great run by reminding myself that she's 18 years younger. Because I think that negates all the hard work she puts into getting in that kind of shape. Just because she's 30 doesn't guarantee that she can run 5K in 28 minutes.
I started out this post writing about enjoyment, and I've come to comparison, and I don't think it's a coincidence. Because really, what kills enjoyment more than comparison? This isn't as fun as I hoped it was going to be. She's not as good in this movie as she was in her last movie. I used to look great in that dress. I thought (puff, puff, puff) this running (puff puff puff) was going to be easier (puff) than this (puff puff.) Ass opposed to perhaps (not that this is a comparison) staying in the present, and noticing that I am still running, and the ocean is beautiful, and an hour ago I was in it, and now I am running alongside it, and people are cheering for me, and I am having a hard time breathing but it's OK if I need to stop and catch my breath, and I'm learning a lot about my abilities and limitations, and that's a cute dog but it shouldn't be in the middle of the course -- better not trip over its leash. Oh wow, I did it! I finished a sprint triathlon in an hour and forty two minutes.
Friday, April 1, 2011
I went to swim practice and I learned to draft
Never Done: Went to Team in Training swim practice (and drafted!)
One of the things they tell you in Team in Training informational sessions is that you are going to make a lot of great new friends. Honestly, I cringe every time I hear this, because really, the last thing I need is more great friends. I am already blessed with the best. So I've been going to trainings and focusing more on myself than others. Not unfriendly, just not solicitous. Which is not actually easy for me to do, accustomed as I am to focus outward, take the temperatures of the people around me, assess their needs before my own. But I've been staying pretty close to myself, and I'm enjoying the training.
I love to swim. It's really one of my true joys in life. I love it so much that I am willing to drive to Staten Island to go to swim practice because the Brooklyn practice is on my Mussar night. I especially love to swim at night. When I lived in Portland and had 24-hour access to a wonderful pool, Jensi and I used to swim at 10 or 11 PM, and I found it would do whatever I needed it to do -- if I needed to stay up and work, it would energize me so that I could do that, and if I needed to go to sleep, it would calm me down and relax me.
So I had my first swim practice with Team in Training. It was supposed to go from 8:30-9:30, but when I got there at 8:15, it was already in progress, and the coach (Mark) and I had an awkward little introductory conversation that went something like this.
Me: Hi. Doesn't practice start at 8:30?
Mark: We start at 8.
Me: Oh, my Brooklyn coach said it started at 8:30.
Mark: Yeah, we start at 8.
I am the person who gets there 15 minutes early to stretch, so in a way I think it's good for me to be the person who thought I was getting there 15 minutes early, but was really 15 minutes late. Good in terms of ... you can't be perfect, and life doesn't fall apart. When I hopped in the pool and started to swim, it was clear that I'm on the advanced end of the spectrum of this group of swimmers, and he sent me and another guy off to do my first real workout in 35 years, and then he stayed with the other swimmers, who could literally not swim a length of the pool. I was so impressed with these guys, that they are learning to swim and then are going to swim a triathlon! I mean, at least I know how to ride a bike.
Mark told me to start with three 200's, 30 seconds apart, and try to keep them all at the same pace. I remember when this used to be easy. Back when I was on swim team in 1976. (Tshuve.) (Is that right, Claire? When is the last time I actually on swim team?) But since I spent the last 5 years of my life with Olympic swimmers, and watching swim practice at the highest level, I think I sort of faked myself into thinking I was in better swim shape than I really am.
As soon as we started I got nervous that he had pegged me as a good swimmer and that I would start to fatigue faster than he expected. This might be true, but he tracked how I was doing, and told me my stroke looked great. At some point, I switched it up and did some back stroke, and he told me to try putting my head back more. I loved getting real coaching from someone who had the capacity to watch a bunch of people in the water at the same time, and offer instruction to everyone at their own level. So I did what he said, and I tried putting my head back further. It felt strange. Water went deep into my ears, and over my face, but he was right -- my stroke was smoother.
After that, he had me do five 50's, 15 seconds apart. And then a 10 minute endurance swim, which I was enjoying, just taking it slow and steady, when my foot cramped up. Which was a sure sign that I was doing something different/harder from usual, because I routinely swim a mile and my foot doesn't cramp up. But once again Mark coached me - this time through my cramp. I had gotten out of the pool and was rubbing it, but he told me to walk and drink water. I don't even know if was a better approach, but there are so few occasions in my life when someone mentors me that I just suspended my questioning and did what he said. I think that training for the triathlon will give me much reflection about the mide (middah) Humility: Seek wisdom from everyone, including the ways I crave wise guidance, and also the ways I resist it.
About 5 minutes before practice was over, a woman (Tonya) arrived and hopped in the pool. By then, I was sitting on the deck, having not continued my endurance swim. The rest of the guys were leaving, and Mark said to me and Tonya, "If you stay, we can do some fun training."
So I hopped back in, and he taught us how to draft. Drafting is swimming (or bike riding) so close to the person in front of you that they create a wake that basically pulls you along. I've watched people draft, but never done it myself, because ... well, basically because I like my space. And I have some fears about being too crowded in certain situations, and water is one of them. You're not allowed to draft on bikes in a triathlon, but it turns out that not only are you allowed to draft in the water, you are encouraged to.
So Tonya and I took turns drafting off each other, and it turned out to be a smart thing to practice. She kept actually touching my feet when I was in front, and I didn't kick her in the head, so that was good. And when I was behind, I was able to reach right out and stay super close to her without actually touching her feet, and I definitely felt the water pull me along. Then we practiced a fingertip drag stroke, and sculling, and did a few other things, until Mark wanted to go home. And as Tonya and I showered and dressed and talked about her sister in the Pacific Northwest and her work with children with developmental disabilities, I realized it was happening, the Team in Training experience I didn't think I wanted. I was making a new friend. Just like my coaches said I would.
One of the things they tell you in Team in Training informational sessions is that you are going to make a lot of great new friends. Honestly, I cringe every time I hear this, because really, the last thing I need is more great friends. I am already blessed with the best. So I've been going to trainings and focusing more on myself than others. Not unfriendly, just not solicitous. Which is not actually easy for me to do, accustomed as I am to focus outward, take the temperatures of the people around me, assess their needs before my own. But I've been staying pretty close to myself, and I'm enjoying the training.
I love to swim. It's really one of my true joys in life. I love it so much that I am willing to drive to Staten Island to go to swim practice because the Brooklyn practice is on my Mussar night. I especially love to swim at night. When I lived in Portland and had 24-hour access to a wonderful pool, Jensi and I used to swim at 10 or 11 PM, and I found it would do whatever I needed it to do -- if I needed to stay up and work, it would energize me so that I could do that, and if I needed to go to sleep, it would calm me down and relax me.
So I had my first swim practice with Team in Training. It was supposed to go from 8:30-9:30, but when I got there at 8:15, it was already in progress, and the coach (Mark) and I had an awkward little introductory conversation that went something like this.
Me: Hi. Doesn't practice start at 8:30?
Mark: We start at 8.
Me: Oh, my Brooklyn coach said it started at 8:30.
Mark: Yeah, we start at 8.
I am the person who gets there 15 minutes early to stretch, so in a way I think it's good for me to be the person who thought I was getting there 15 minutes early, but was really 15 minutes late. Good in terms of ... you can't be perfect, and life doesn't fall apart. When I hopped in the pool and started to swim, it was clear that I'm on the advanced end of the spectrum of this group of swimmers, and he sent me and another guy off to do my first real workout in 35 years, and then he stayed with the other swimmers, who could literally not swim a length of the pool. I was so impressed with these guys, that they are learning to swim and then are going to swim a triathlon! I mean, at least I know how to ride a bike.
Mark told me to start with three 200's, 30 seconds apart, and try to keep them all at the same pace. I remember when this used to be easy. Back when I was on swim team in 1976. (Tshuve.) (Is that right, Claire? When is the last time I actually on swim team?) But since I spent the last 5 years of my life with Olympic swimmers, and watching swim practice at the highest level, I think I sort of faked myself into thinking I was in better swim shape than I really am.
As soon as we started I got nervous that he had pegged me as a good swimmer and that I would start to fatigue faster than he expected. This might be true, but he tracked how I was doing, and told me my stroke looked great. At some point, I switched it up and did some back stroke, and he told me to try putting my head back more. I loved getting real coaching from someone who had the capacity to watch a bunch of people in the water at the same time, and offer instruction to everyone at their own level. So I did what he said, and I tried putting my head back further. It felt strange. Water went deep into my ears, and over my face, but he was right -- my stroke was smoother.
After that, he had me do five 50's, 15 seconds apart. And then a 10 minute endurance swim, which I was enjoying, just taking it slow and steady, when my foot cramped up. Which was a sure sign that I was doing something different/harder from usual, because I routinely swim a mile and my foot doesn't cramp up. But once again Mark coached me - this time through my cramp. I had gotten out of the pool and was rubbing it, but he told me to walk and drink water. I don't even know if was a better approach, but there are so few occasions in my life when someone mentors me that I just suspended my questioning and did what he said. I think that training for the triathlon will give me much reflection about the mide (middah) Humility: Seek wisdom from everyone, including the ways I crave wise guidance, and also the ways I resist it.
About 5 minutes before practice was over, a woman (Tonya) arrived and hopped in the pool. By then, I was sitting on the deck, having not continued my endurance swim. The rest of the guys were leaving, and Mark said to me and Tonya, "If you stay, we can do some fun training."
So I hopped back in, and he taught us how to draft. Drafting is swimming (or bike riding) so close to the person in front of you that they create a wake that basically pulls you along. I've watched people draft, but never done it myself, because ... well, basically because I like my space. And I have some fears about being too crowded in certain situations, and water is one of them. You're not allowed to draft on bikes in a triathlon, but it turns out that not only are you allowed to draft in the water, you are encouraged to.
So Tonya and I took turns drafting off each other, and it turned out to be a smart thing to practice. She kept actually touching my feet when I was in front, and I didn't kick her in the head, so that was good. And when I was behind, I was able to reach right out and stay super close to her without actually touching her feet, and I definitely felt the water pull me along. Then we practiced a fingertip drag stroke, and sculling, and did a few other things, until Mark wanted to go home. And as Tonya and I showered and dressed and talked about her sister in the Pacific Northwest and her work with children with developmental disabilities, I realized it was happening, the Team in Training experience I didn't think I wanted. I was making a new friend. Just like my coaches said I would.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
I might do a triathlon
Never Done: Attended a Team in Training orientation
I'm a bit worried I'll be a giant cliché if I do an endurance sport event during my Never Done year, and a bit worried that I'd be missing a giant opportunity if I don't do one. And since the spirit of Never Done is to actually do it if I've never done it, then I guess I have to risk being a cliché.
I think I am going to train for a triathlon.
When Claire ran the Boston Marathon, she trained with Team in Training, and raised money that went directly to research and cure for leukemia and lymphoma. She also got superb training, and finished her very first marathon in just under 4 1/2 hours, and never even got sore afterwards. (OK, so I shouldn't compare myself to Claire. Got it.) I was there to support her, and I wept all day long, watching people reach for, and in most cases achieve this massive physical feat.
Here's what would make this very personal for me. My mom died of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma almost three years ago. She had excellent medical care, and she was in otherwise (aside from the cancer) excellent health, and they still could not cure her. It's not like it's gonna make it all better if I complete a triathlon, but 75% of the money I would raise would go directly to research and cure for blood cancers (and the other 25% goes to the coaching and other race-related expenses I would incur.) At least I'd be doing something, and that might help me feel a little less powerless about her death.
Another thing that would make it personal is that Tonia's mom has a leukemia now; she's always been a pillar of physical health and strength, and is doing surprisingly well, given the amount of chemotherapy she has had recently, but it's also been kicking her ass. (Both the cancer and the chemo) and I would love to do this event with her in my mind. (And believe me, she is a good person to have in your mind when you are engaged in a physically challenging activity.)
Another thing is that I have always wanted to do a triathlon, but I've been hurt for so long that it's just never made sense to me. I tore my ACL, both menisci and a tendon in my knee when I was 15, and have had seven arthroscopic surgeries and one reconstruction done. On top of that, I had a car accident and then a carpentry accident that have left me with two herniated discs. In other words, it wouldn't take running a marathon to make me sore; I am sore when I get out of bed in the morning (and sometimes, you could define "sore" as "paralyzed with pain.") Still, I have always wanted to do this.
When I looked through the options of endurance events, and saw that the marathons and half marathons and century rides and hikes and triathlons, I was immediately drawn to two events: A 3-day hike through Havasupai Falls in the Grand Canyon, and the South Maui triathlon. (Never been to either place!) In my heart though, I knew that the hike wouldn't give me the same overall sense of accomplishment that the triathlon would -- I've done big hikes before, so this would be more of a great opportunity to hike somewhere stunning, but it wouldn't be the big Never Done activity that a triathlon would be. I emailed the contact guy for the New York chapter, and I found out that the New York chapter is not training for Maui, but I could train for (wait for it, wait for it) the New York triathlon in August!
Eww. A triathlon in New York City in August? That does not sound ideal. In fact, it sounds smelly and hot and muggy. A bike ride up and down the West Side Highway vs a bike ride along the Maui coastline. Hmmmm. And yet it has its advantages. I would have a huge support network to cheer me on, and I could try out parts of the course in advance. My fundraising goal would be smaller, because I wouldn't be raising airfare and bike shipping and other destination event-related costs.
The big thing though, aside from destination or olfactory concerns, is really my body's physical limitations. On the one hand, I am a strong, athletic person. A have done a two-mile open water swim before. I wasn't fast, and I had to stop to rest sometimes, but I didn't even train for it. I think that with proper training, I would be just fine to do a 1.5K (.93 mile) swim. I have taken long bike trips before -- traveling 80 miles a day, carrying all my gear. That was 20 years ago. I am no longer a stalwart biker. I walk up hills, and get insanely tired when I don't. A 40K (24.8 mile) bike ride would kick my ass if I did it today, but I don't think the training would hurt my knee or my back too badly. Then there's the 10K (6.2 mile) run. In some ways, this is the most native to me, and the one that would hurt the most. I love to run, and there have been times when I could run for an hour without stopping. These days I run on a track or a treadmill, and I wouldn't actually call it running, but jogging. I jog about a 13 minute mile, which would be 75 minutes if I could keep that pace after swimming and biking in the middle of August in New York.
What, am I insane? Or am I doing what people do when they want to feel expansive and push through real or imagined limitations?
The reason I went to the Team in Training open house was to talk with their trainers. I set up an appointment for when there would be a coach who is also a physical therapist there, to talk honestly about my injuries and abilities. Instead, when I got there, there was just a marathon coach, who was in his 20s, and his expertise was that he has run 5 marathons. He was sweet, he was enthusiastic, and he was even empathetic -- he told me that his girlfriend has a bulging disc in her neck and she becomes paralyzed with pain, and that he himself broke a rib and that it looks to him that she's in worse shape than he is. But he was 28 (I'm guessing) and gung-ho, and kept saying "Oh, the coaches will work with you." But I had gone in specifically to talk with someone with that level of expertise before I sign up to do this, and I know myself well enough to know that I really do need help, expertise, and someone to tell me how it could be possible to train me through my injuries, to know this could really work.
While that doesn't inspire confidence, and it makes me think that Team in Training's excellent training is geared to people who are beginners and not to people with special needs, I don't want to let their limitations become mine. Luckily for me, my cousin Kenny is both a triathlete and a physical therapist, so I will call him up today and ask him if I'm out of my league here, or if it is actually possible that I could complete a triathlon. If I do it, will you come?
I'm a bit worried I'll be a giant cliché if I do an endurance sport event during my Never Done year, and a bit worried that I'd be missing a giant opportunity if I don't do one. And since the spirit of Never Done is to actually do it if I've never done it, then I guess I have to risk being a cliché.
I think I am going to train for a triathlon.
When Claire ran the Boston Marathon, she trained with Team in Training, and raised money that went directly to research and cure for leukemia and lymphoma. She also got superb training, and finished her very first marathon in just under 4 1/2 hours, and never even got sore afterwards. (OK, so I shouldn't compare myself to Claire. Got it.) I was there to support her, and I wept all day long, watching people reach for, and in most cases achieve this massive physical feat.
Here's what would make this very personal for me. My mom died of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma almost three years ago. She had excellent medical care, and she was in otherwise (aside from the cancer) excellent health, and they still could not cure her. It's not like it's gonna make it all better if I complete a triathlon, but 75% of the money I would raise would go directly to research and cure for blood cancers (and the other 25% goes to the coaching and other race-related expenses I would incur.) At least I'd be doing something, and that might help me feel a little less powerless about her death.
Another thing that would make it personal is that Tonia's mom has a leukemia now; she's always been a pillar of physical health and strength, and is doing surprisingly well, given the amount of chemotherapy she has had recently, but it's also been kicking her ass. (Both the cancer and the chemo) and I would love to do this event with her in my mind. (And believe me, she is a good person to have in your mind when you are engaged in a physically challenging activity.)
Another thing is that I have always wanted to do a triathlon, but I've been hurt for so long that it's just never made sense to me. I tore my ACL, both menisci and a tendon in my knee when I was 15, and have had seven arthroscopic surgeries and one reconstruction done. On top of that, I had a car accident and then a carpentry accident that have left me with two herniated discs. In other words, it wouldn't take running a marathon to make me sore; I am sore when I get out of bed in the morning (and sometimes, you could define "sore" as "paralyzed with pain.") Still, I have always wanted to do this.
When I looked through the options of endurance events, and saw that the marathons and half marathons and century rides and hikes and triathlons, I was immediately drawn to two events: A 3-day hike through Havasupai Falls in the Grand Canyon, and the South Maui triathlon. (Never been to either place!) In my heart though, I knew that the hike wouldn't give me the same overall sense of accomplishment that the triathlon would -- I've done big hikes before, so this would be more of a great opportunity to hike somewhere stunning, but it wouldn't be the big Never Done activity that a triathlon would be. I emailed the contact guy for the New York chapter, and I found out that the New York chapter is not training for Maui, but I could train for (wait for it, wait for it) the New York triathlon in August!
Eww. A triathlon in New York City in August? That does not sound ideal. In fact, it sounds smelly and hot and muggy. A bike ride up and down the West Side Highway vs a bike ride along the Maui coastline. Hmmmm. And yet it has its advantages. I would have a huge support network to cheer me on, and I could try out parts of the course in advance. My fundraising goal would be smaller, because I wouldn't be raising airfare and bike shipping and other destination event-related costs.
The big thing though, aside from destination or olfactory concerns, is really my body's physical limitations. On the one hand, I am a strong, athletic person. A have done a two-mile open water swim before. I wasn't fast, and I had to stop to rest sometimes, but I didn't even train for it. I think that with proper training, I would be just fine to do a 1.5K (.93 mile) swim. I have taken long bike trips before -- traveling 80 miles a day, carrying all my gear. That was 20 years ago. I am no longer a stalwart biker. I walk up hills, and get insanely tired when I don't. A 40K (24.8 mile) bike ride would kick my ass if I did it today, but I don't think the training would hurt my knee or my back too badly. Then there's the 10K (6.2 mile) run. In some ways, this is the most native to me, and the one that would hurt the most. I love to run, and there have been times when I could run for an hour without stopping. These days I run on a track or a treadmill, and I wouldn't actually call it running, but jogging. I jog about a 13 minute mile, which would be 75 minutes if I could keep that pace after swimming and biking in the middle of August in New York.
What, am I insane? Or am I doing what people do when they want to feel expansive and push through real or imagined limitations?
The reason I went to the Team in Training open house was to talk with their trainers. I set up an appointment for when there would be a coach who is also a physical therapist there, to talk honestly about my injuries and abilities. Instead, when I got there, there was just a marathon coach, who was in his 20s, and his expertise was that he has run 5 marathons. He was sweet, he was enthusiastic, and he was even empathetic -- he told me that his girlfriend has a bulging disc in her neck and she becomes paralyzed with pain, and that he himself broke a rib and that it looks to him that she's in worse shape than he is. But he was 28 (I'm guessing) and gung-ho, and kept saying "Oh, the coaches will work with you." But I had gone in specifically to talk with someone with that level of expertise before I sign up to do this, and I know myself well enough to know that I really do need help, expertise, and someone to tell me how it could be possible to train me through my injuries, to know this could really work.
While that doesn't inspire confidence, and it makes me think that Team in Training's excellent training is geared to people who are beginners and not to people with special needs, I don't want to let their limitations become mine. Luckily for me, my cousin Kenny is both a triathlete and a physical therapist, so I will call him up today and ask him if I'm out of my league here, or if it is actually possible that I could complete a triathlon. If I do it, will you come?
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