We (my dad, my daughter, and I) unloaded the car and headed over to the registration area. My dad took my daughter off to the restroom while I got checked in and set up my transition station. let me tell you, this time I was PREPARED.
1) I got there early so was able to choose the exact space I wanted.
2) I brought a yoga mat to lie down on the ground and laid out all my things on it, ready-to-go.
3) I brought an empty storage bin and a gallon jug of water to rinse my feet in after the run outside from the swim to the transition area. (To avoid rocks/dirt/crud in my shoes which would rapidly become uncomfortable during the actual event.)
4) I pinned my number to the shirt I was going to put on for transition, which I bunched up and draped over the handlebars of my bike in a manner that would make it easy to pick up and pull on.
5) I grabbed my bike gloves, sunglasses, goggles, swim cap, and towel, and headed inside to the pool.
We got Dad and my daughter seated, I had my event briefing, and I started!
This event has an indoor swim, which is appreciated for the time of year and our climate. I did not so much appreciate sharing my lane with 3 other people, especially considering that despite having to enter swim times, we weren't in synch with each other. I know my pace really well and am very good at holding it through the swim--with just enough left to push the last length.
The other three blasted out of the start and passed me immediately. Since I wasn't in it to win, I didn't really care, but we were too close for me to do my flip turns (that I'd actually practiced quite a bit). I also learned that my swim pace is a bit slower, but my flip turns help me catch up speed, so losing out on those turns cost me some time.
Then getting stuck behind my lane mates when they got tired from their fast starts was also frustrating.
I was given the signal for last lap (I hadn't been counting; perhaps this was stupid of me) and I was really confused because the one person in the pool that I was SURE had lapped me got out right as I got to the wall behind her.
Not wanting to be disqualified in case I'd misunderstood, I swam an extra lap.
It turns out I swam a 550 instead of a 500. Oh well. Off to the transition.
Like I'd hoped, I was able to get my gloves and sunglasses on, my cap and goggles off, and mostly dried by transition. I slipped into my new bike shoes (which were laced with Yankz! which I LOVE), pulled on my shirt and helmet, and headed out for the bike portion.
It started out on a very slight incline, but enough that I (belatedly) remembered advice that I got from Long Beach Triathlon Club clinic that I went to: check the area just outside of transition for hill angle and adjust your bike gears accordingly PRIOR to setting up your transition station. Oops. Luckily, the bike was in the right gear.
And that is where my luck ran out.
I could NOT get the rear derailleur to move, at ALL. I hopped off the bike to look at it, but had no tools to adjust anything, so gave up and got back on the bike. It was stuck in more of a climbing mode, so I was okay for going up hills, but going downhill or even flat, I couldn't build up enough speed.
Incredibly frustrating. About half the course was downhill and I watched people ZOOM by me as I coasted, unable to pedal fast enough (and unwilling to try to make my legs move fast enough to make it worthwhile in the gear I was stuck in). A 12-mile bike ride on what was essentially a 3-speed bike. Whoopee.
And my feet started hurting in my shoes and my hiney was hurting on my saddle and I still had a run left and was really starting to wonder why I do this to myself.
As I got into the transition area, my dad was standing next to a lamppost, talking on his cell phone. When I got close, my daughter fell head-first into the lamppost and started crying. I wanted to go pick her up and comfort her, but was in the middle of a race, and dad was there...so I walked by, feeling like a horrible mom.
I had to loop around a barrier and come back up to my station--which was right across from my dad. My daughter was still crying, my dad had put his free finger in his ear and was talking into the phone, and I was trying to get ready for the run, which I did NOT feel like doing at that point.
He hung up, I yelled across about my bike problems, and he finally picked up my daughter as I walked off. I crossed the transition barrier and started running.
Okay, for purposes of clarity, when I use the term "run," I don't actually mean RUN, or even probably jog. What I actually mean is more like a not-walk. If you want an idea of my actual pace, which I'm pretty sure I kept up for the whole run, get on a treadmill and set it at about 3.8 MPH or a 16:10 minute mile pace.
I did NOT feel like running at all. The one thing I wanted to do in this race though, was to run the whole 5K. I decided I would just keep up my terribly slow run pace and do at least the first lap (approximately a mile) on a run, and then see how it went.
Now for the good part (in my head, anyway). I RAN the whole 5K. Since my training, like I mentioned yesterday, was not great up to this, the furthest I'd run prior (all connected anyway) was 2 miles. So I ran a whole mile more today--and farther than I've ever run in my life.
As I rounded the second to last corner, one of the race volunteers came up to me. I'm one of those people that with so much as minor exertion, my face turns deep red--and slightly over minor exertion turns it almost purple. Apparently my color (or perhaps my pathetically slow pace) worried the volunteer as she asked, with a VERY concerned look on her face, if I was okay. She looked like she was ready to turn around and call 9-1-1. I assured her I was fine, but she insisted on asking if I needed anything. I told her, "I'm doing fine! I'm almost done!"
Around the corner and the last little stretch before a turn into the finish, my daughter joined me. As she caught up to me on the course, she hollered, "Mommy, mommy, I'm going to BEAT you!"
My response? "Yes, honey, you probably are."
For some reason, the crowd around us found this hysterical.
Okay, yes, it was funny, but upon reflection...I guess I have to laugh or otherwise I'd be insulted. (And I have to remind myself that those standing around laughing were not doing the event.)
Somewhere inside me, I found this extra energy/ability to pick up the pace. It was not enough to catch my daughter (who kept on going, well PAST the finish line), but it was a real run, for the last 20 yards or so.
Results?
I placed dead last. Not just last in my division (by over 33 minutes), but last out of all the women who competed. There was one guy who placed further behind me. Now, if I hadn't swam the extra lap, I would have beat one more person. If I'd been able to take just 10 minutes off of the bike (if I'd been able to pedal the other half of the race), I would have beat five more people. So, that's the "ugh" of the results.
Comparing to Catalina?
I took just over 4 minutes off of my transition times.
I took over 6 minutes off of my run time.
If I calculated it out, I took 4 minutes off of my bike time--with a dysfunctional bike.
Which means I am 14 minutes into my goal of taking an hour off of my Catalina time, assuming I could apply it directly.
Once the race was over, my husband (who had arrived during the run) took my dad, my daughter, and my bike home. We got caught in a downpour and then hailstorm as we were waiting for the car. We loaded everything up, I headed back to my car, and after saying goodbye, went back to pick up the rest of my transition area.
By time I got there, all forms of precipitation had stopped, but my gear bag was sitting there, with a puddle of water on top of it.
I learned today that my gear bag is waterproof. Which meant my clean clothes were still dry inside. I went and showered, grabbed a snack of a piece of muffin, and headed back to my car.
Noticing that the parking lot was blockaded for reserved parking (officials only) for an event at the coliseum (that I was going to go to and why I wanted to park there in the first place), I decided NOT to leave and go get food. Instead, I leaned back in the driver's seat to rest.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
The Drive There or My Dad and His GPS
Hoping for a good night's sleep was apparently too much to ask. My daughter woke up at 3:30 in the morning to go to the bathroom and I never fell asleep again. Alarm went off at 5:00.
Dad made us breakfast while I showered and got dressed and then woke up my little one (who of course had fallen right back to sleep after the middle of the night bathroom visit).
I got everything repacked, into the car, and just as Dad was about to get into the car, he asked, "Do you think I should bring the GPS?"
Me, internal voice: Oh, please no, not the GPS.
Me, out loud voice: I don't think we need it, but I know that if I tell you NOT to bring it, you'll spend the whole drive talking about how you wish you'd brought your GPS, so go ahead and get it.
Dad had the grace to laugh. But he got the GPS anyway.
Apparently it doesn't matter if we have the GPS or not; the conversation of the entire drive with the GPS is about the GPS. I don't think I ever posted much about the drive that he and I took to California for my last event, but he also insisted on the GPS for that trip, which is nearly 1000 miles on I-5. I got a little tired of the "continue 127 miles on I-5 south, then keep left to stay on I-5 south" and finally demanded that at least while I was driving, it be shut OFF. Especially since we both knew the way to my sister's house by heart.
But he loves his toy, and he put up with me when I was a teenager, so I suppose this is some kind of mild karmic revenge (very mild, considering what a brat I was at times).
In any case, today's trip was not much different.
Here is a rundown of our conversation/locations:
(Bottom of his driveway)
Dad: Do you have the address?
Me: No, but I know where we're going.
Dad: I need an address to put in my GPS.
Me: Actually, I tried to find one online and had problems getting a specific address.
(1 mile away)
Dad: Maybe I could enter the name of the coliseum.
Me: (pretending to focus on road)
Dad: Do you spell coliseum with one "L" or two?
Me: one, but now that you said it, I'm questioning it and I don't know any more.
(2 miles away)
Dad: Well, it can't find it with 1. It must be 2 "Ls." (pause with beeps of button pushing on the GPS) DOGGONE it, now I've got to start all over.
(3 miles away)
Dad: Turn left here.
Me: Are you sure? We've always gone right here before.
Dad: Yes, this is shorter.
Me: Okay, but you're going to have to tell me where to turn.
Dad: Don't worry, the GPS will tell us.
Me: Oh, so you got it entered?
Dad: No, but it will figure it out.
(5ish miles away)
Dad: Huh, it can't find it with two Ls either. I'm not sure what to look for.
Me: Try the stadium instead.
Dad: How do you spell the name of the stadium?
Me: H-E-R-E-N*.
Dad: Are you sure there isn't an "I" in there?
Me: Yes, I'm sure.
Dad: I really think there's an I in there.
Me: I hope you know this road, because I'm going to be really annoyed if I miss my race because you can't find directions on your GPS to a place that I knew how to get to if I went my own way.
Dad (clearly not listening to me): Maybe if I just type in the name of the city...
*This and other location-specific names have been changed. You know, in case someone I don't already know in real life reads this blog.
(10ish miles away)
Dad: OKAY! We've got it now.
GPS: In point one miles, turn right onto Dallas Road.
Dad: Up here, you need to turn right onto Dallas Road.
Me: We're already ON Dallas Road.
Dad: Oh. Hmm. That's weird.
(as I pass an intersection)
GPS: Immediately turn left to stay on Dallas Road.
Dad: Okay, I think the GPS has it now.
Me: I know it's dark, but if I hadn't turned left, I would have gone into a field. So far, not thinking this GPS is being very helpful.
(15ish miles away, and at least 10 additional instructions from the GPS to turn left/right to stay on Dallas Road where my only other option was to turn into a field or barn)
Me: This road may be shorter in mileage, but I think I prefer the other route because it is straight and you can go 55-60 the whole way. Slowing down to 15-20 miles per hour for a corner every quarter mile is not faster.
(20ish miles away)
GPS: Turn left to stay on Dallas Road and then turn left onto Highway 100.
Me: Okay, the road turns right, so I'm ignoring the GPS. I don't see any place to turn left.
Dad: That's okay, Highway 100 is right there.
Me: Good. At least I can find where we're going from here.
(Entering the north end of town)
Dad: Okay, now let's see if I can find the university.
Me: I thought you found it in the GPS.
Dad: No, I had to just enter the city. Hmmm...oh, it found the university bookstore, I'll enter that!
Me: The triathlon is not starting at the bookstore.
Dad: Well, but it could get us close to where you need to be.
Me: I already know where I'm going to park and how to get there, so you don't need to worry about the GPS any more.
Dad: I've got the bookstore entered!
(about a quarter mile into town)
GPS: At the next signal, turn left on Main street. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Me: That's not helpful.
Dad: Huh, I thought the bookstore was on campus. I wonder if they moved it.
(passing Main street without turning)
GPS: Recalculating. At the next signal, turn left on Center street. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Me: Again, not so helpful.
Dad: I wonder why it's doing that. Let me see if I can fix it.
(passing Center street without turning)
GPS: Recalculating. At the next signal, turn left on Washington. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Dad: I think I'm going to shut this off.
Me: That's the best thing I've heard since we left your house.
I managed to go directly to the place I wanted to park, got some helpful parking instructions from my dad (You'll get towed here!) (No, I won't, it's only regulated on weekdays, look, it's written on the sign!) and only had to walk half a block to get to the registration tent.
I am my own GPS.
And Dad? If you read this, thank you very much for letting me stay at your house, for getting up at 5:00am to support me, the perfect breakfast, and watching my daughter for the whole race. I couldn't have made it without you. But I'm buying headphones for your GPS.
Dad made us breakfast while I showered and got dressed and then woke up my little one (who of course had fallen right back to sleep after the middle of the night bathroom visit).
I got everything repacked, into the car, and just as Dad was about to get into the car, he asked, "Do you think I should bring the GPS?"
Me, internal voice: Oh, please no, not the GPS.
Me, out loud voice: I don't think we need it, but I know that if I tell you NOT to bring it, you'll spend the whole drive talking about how you wish you'd brought your GPS, so go ahead and get it.
Dad had the grace to laugh. But he got the GPS anyway.
Apparently it doesn't matter if we have the GPS or not; the conversation of the entire drive with the GPS is about the GPS. I don't think I ever posted much about the drive that he and I took to California for my last event, but he also insisted on the GPS for that trip, which is nearly 1000 miles on I-5. I got a little tired of the "continue 127 miles on I-5 south, then keep left to stay on I-5 south" and finally demanded that at least while I was driving, it be shut OFF. Especially since we both knew the way to my sister's house by heart.
But he loves his toy, and he put up with me when I was a teenager, so I suppose this is some kind of mild karmic revenge (very mild, considering what a brat I was at times).
In any case, today's trip was not much different.
Here is a rundown of our conversation/locations:
(Bottom of his driveway)
Dad: Do you have the address?
Me: No, but I know where we're going.
Dad: I need an address to put in my GPS.
Me: Actually, I tried to find one online and had problems getting a specific address.
(1 mile away)
Dad: Maybe I could enter the name of the coliseum.
Me: (pretending to focus on road)
Dad: Do you spell coliseum with one "L" or two?
Me: one, but now that you said it, I'm questioning it and I don't know any more.
(2 miles away)
Dad: Well, it can't find it with 1. It must be 2 "Ls." (pause with beeps of button pushing on the GPS) DOGGONE it, now I've got to start all over.
(3 miles away)
Dad: Turn left here.
Me: Are you sure? We've always gone right here before.
Dad: Yes, this is shorter.
Me: Okay, but you're going to have to tell me where to turn.
Dad: Don't worry, the GPS will tell us.
Me: Oh, so you got it entered?
Dad: No, but it will figure it out.
(5ish miles away)
Dad: Huh, it can't find it with two Ls either. I'm not sure what to look for.
Me: Try the stadium instead.
Dad: How do you spell the name of the stadium?
Me: H-E-R-E-N*.
Dad: Are you sure there isn't an "I" in there?
Me: Yes, I'm sure.
Dad: I really think there's an I in there.
Me: I hope you know this road, because I'm going to be really annoyed if I miss my race because you can't find directions on your GPS to a place that I knew how to get to if I went my own way.
Dad (clearly not listening to me): Maybe if I just type in the name of the city...
*This and other location-specific names have been changed. You know, in case someone I don't already know in real life reads this blog.
(10ish miles away)
Dad: OKAY! We've got it now.
GPS: In point one miles, turn right onto Dallas Road.
Dad: Up here, you need to turn right onto Dallas Road.
Me: We're already ON Dallas Road.
Dad: Oh. Hmm. That's weird.
(as I pass an intersection)
GPS: Immediately turn left to stay on Dallas Road.
Dad: Okay, I think the GPS has it now.
Me: I know it's dark, but if I hadn't turned left, I would have gone into a field. So far, not thinking this GPS is being very helpful.
(15ish miles away, and at least 10 additional instructions from the GPS to turn left/right to stay on Dallas Road where my only other option was to turn into a field or barn)
Me: This road may be shorter in mileage, but I think I prefer the other route because it is straight and you can go 55-60 the whole way. Slowing down to 15-20 miles per hour for a corner every quarter mile is not faster.
(20ish miles away)
GPS: Turn left to stay on Dallas Road and then turn left onto Highway 100.
Me: Okay, the road turns right, so I'm ignoring the GPS. I don't see any place to turn left.
Dad: That's okay, Highway 100 is right there.
Me: Good. At least I can find where we're going from here.
(Entering the north end of town)
Dad: Okay, now let's see if I can find the university.
Me: I thought you found it in the GPS.
Dad: No, I had to just enter the city. Hmmm...oh, it found the university bookstore, I'll enter that!
Me: The triathlon is not starting at the bookstore.
Dad: Well, but it could get us close to where you need to be.
Me: I already know where I'm going to park and how to get there, so you don't need to worry about the GPS any more.
Dad: I've got the bookstore entered!
(about a quarter mile into town)
GPS: At the next signal, turn left on Main street. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Me: That's not helpful.
Dad: Huh, I thought the bookstore was on campus. I wonder if they moved it.
(passing Main street without turning)
GPS: Recalculating. At the next signal, turn left on Center street. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Me: Again, not so helpful.
Dad: I wonder why it's doing that. Let me see if I can fix it.
(passing Center street without turning)
GPS: Recalculating. At the next signal, turn left on Washington. Then turn left on Highway 100 North.
Dad: I think I'm going to shut this off.
Me: That's the best thing I've heard since we left your house.
I managed to go directly to the place I wanted to park, got some helpful parking instructions from my dad (You'll get towed here!) (No, I won't, it's only regulated on weekdays, look, it's written on the sign!) and only had to walk half a block to get to the registration tent.
I am my own GPS.
And Dad? If you read this, thank you very much for letting me stay at your house, for getting up at 5:00am to support me, the perfect breakfast, and watching my daughter for the whole race. I couldn't have made it without you. But I'm buying headphones for your GPS.
Friday, April 1, 2011
April Fool
So not only have I not posted here much lately, but I haven't been able to train much. Sometimes I've had a valid reason (for not training), sometimes not so much.
I'm feeling wholly unprepared for tomorrow and in some ways am more scared about my ability to finish than I was five months ago for Catalina. Okay, since then, my back went out completely and I spent three months coughing. So in a way, I've had less time and am coming from a worse place than I did getting ready for that event.
This line of thought is not encouraging me.
Today I ran around taking care of all kinds of errands: depositing checks at my new bank account that is 10 miles further from my home than my old one, registering my daughter for summer ballet classes (still not sure why I'm doing that), getting the required apparel for said ballet classes, picking up glasses, getting a fuel belt and replacement water bottle for tomorrow's event, and probably more stuff that I don't even remember now.
Spent a couple of hours madly packing, checking my list (thank you again, Long Beach Triathlon Club for the laminated card) to make sure I have all my gear, rechecking to make sure the stuff actually made it into the car (unlike my helmet last time), have stuff for spending the night at my dad's for me and my daughter, and that I have my judging gear for tomorrow evening.
Rechecked everything again.
Husband home, woke up daughter from nap, drove down to Dad's, had dinner, chatted for a bit and now time for bed. Tomorrow is an early wake up call and my second triathlon.
And if I can do anything right for tomorrow, a good night's rest is about all I can hope for at this point.
I'm feeling wholly unprepared for tomorrow and in some ways am more scared about my ability to finish than I was five months ago for Catalina. Okay, since then, my back went out completely and I spent three months coughing. So in a way, I've had less time and am coming from a worse place than I did getting ready for that event.
This line of thought is not encouraging me.
Today I ran around taking care of all kinds of errands: depositing checks at my new bank account that is 10 miles further from my home than my old one, registering my daughter for summer ballet classes (still not sure why I'm doing that), getting the required apparel for said ballet classes, picking up glasses, getting a fuel belt and replacement water bottle for tomorrow's event, and probably more stuff that I don't even remember now.
Spent a couple of hours madly packing, checking my list (thank you again, Long Beach Triathlon Club for the laminated card) to make sure I have all my gear, rechecking to make sure the stuff actually made it into the car (unlike my helmet last time), have stuff for spending the night at my dad's for me and my daughter, and that I have my judging gear for tomorrow evening.
Rechecked everything again.
Husband home, woke up daughter from nap, drove down to Dad's, had dinner, chatted for a bit and now time for bed. Tomorrow is an early wake up call and my second triathlon.
And if I can do anything right for tomorrow, a good night's rest is about all I can hope for at this point.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
New Traditions
Nothing out of the ordinary today, but I thought I'd share a little conversation between my husband and I that occurred this evening.
Me: What's up with all these Leprechaun traps I keep hearing about? We never had this when I was a kid and everyone was talking about them today.
Him: Seriously? We even had them in Morocco. There were stories about Leprechauns that would come and steal Muslim kids and convert them to Christianity.
Me: That's awful.
Him: No, what's awful is you believed that.
Me: What's up with all these Leprechaun traps I keep hearing about? We never had this when I was a kid and everyone was talking about them today.
Him: Seriously? We even had them in Morocco. There were stories about Leprechauns that would come and steal Muslim kids and convert them to Christianity.
Me: That's awful.
Him: No, what's awful is you believed that.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Permanent Dork Squad Member, Right Here
I didn't mention yesterday that this meet I'm judging is a "themed" invitational...meaning that everyone who attends (athletes, coaches, judges, parents, helpers) are requested to dress up to match the theme.
The theme was pajamas.
I read this on the meet announcement when I was pulling information together about where we were staying and going and the other judge carpooling with me even called to confirm it. We were the only two judges coming from out-of-state.
Ironically, the state we are in is a relatively "relaxed" state. I'm not saying we don't behave professionally, but in terms of uniform (which can be close to $400), they don't require it, and approach the whole coach/judge relationship with a slightly more "educational" and "benefit the athlete" approach as opposed to following the letter of the "no interaction" rule. The state we were visiting...is known for being more strict about these things, so I was told in no uncertain terms that my black pants would NOT work (must be navy blue).
I went out and bought new navy blue pants (still hate shopping, but being able to shop in a normal store and find something that fits a slight improvement).
Then I found out I was supposed to wear pajamas.
Since it was a two-day meet, I packed two sets of "judging clothes." Yesterday I wore my snowflake-print fleece pajama bottoms with a matching solid color fleece top and today I wore some normal capris and a T-shirt, but with a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.
I must say, I've never been so comfy judging.
Did I mention that I put my hair into buns (Mickey Mouse style) on top of my head?
We (the other judge and I) were feeling a bit silly since we were the ONLY ones dressed up yesterday--we even opted for a Starbucks drive through so we wouldn't have to be "seen" in public as much. This morning--and she was in blue rocketship footie pajamas--we felt even more ridiculous pumping gas and the looks on the coffee drive through didn't help.
On top of feeling like total geeks, there were some hiccups with the meet planning, so we ended up being gone for nearly 48 hours, being at the meet for part of two days, and only actually judging (and getting paid) for about 9 hours. I'm hoping the meet made money, because with two nights of hotels for us, 350 miles of mileage, and per diem on top of our judging fees, we were pretty expensive.
The extra bummer was that we could have judged closer to home and made close to double at a more local meet.
So in trying to help out, the two of us gave up a weekend, gave up half a paycheck, and looked like goobers being the only ones in pajamas.
I think it upset (or annoyed) the other judge more than me. While I missed my family (and was bummed I couldn't do the race today), I did enjoy the alone time and getting to do whatever I wanted without having to worry about a three-year-old tagging along. It was especially nice in stores yesterday not having to remind anyone about the "one finger touch" rule.
The theme was pajamas.
I read this on the meet announcement when I was pulling information together about where we were staying and going and the other judge carpooling with me even called to confirm it. We were the only two judges coming from out-of-state.
Ironically, the state we are in is a relatively "relaxed" state. I'm not saying we don't behave professionally, but in terms of uniform (which can be close to $400), they don't require it, and approach the whole coach/judge relationship with a slightly more "educational" and "benefit the athlete" approach as opposed to following the letter of the "no interaction" rule. The state we were visiting...is known for being more strict about these things, so I was told in no uncertain terms that my black pants would NOT work (must be navy blue).
I went out and bought new navy blue pants (still hate shopping, but being able to shop in a normal store and find something that fits a slight improvement).
Then I found out I was supposed to wear pajamas.
Since it was a two-day meet, I packed two sets of "judging clothes." Yesterday I wore my snowflake-print fleece pajama bottoms with a matching solid color fleece top and today I wore some normal capris and a T-shirt, but with a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers.
I must say, I've never been so comfy judging.
Did I mention that I put my hair into buns (Mickey Mouse style) on top of my head?
We (the other judge and I) were feeling a bit silly since we were the ONLY ones dressed up yesterday--we even opted for a Starbucks drive through so we wouldn't have to be "seen" in public as much. This morning--and she was in blue rocketship footie pajamas--we felt even more ridiculous pumping gas and the looks on the coffee drive through didn't help.
On top of feeling like total geeks, there were some hiccups with the meet planning, so we ended up being gone for nearly 48 hours, being at the meet for part of two days, and only actually judging (and getting paid) for about 9 hours. I'm hoping the meet made money, because with two nights of hotels for us, 350 miles of mileage, and per diem on top of our judging fees, we were pretty expensive.
The extra bummer was that we could have judged closer to home and made close to double at a more local meet.
So in trying to help out, the two of us gave up a weekend, gave up half a paycheck, and looked like goobers being the only ones in pajamas.
I think it upset (or annoyed) the other judge more than me. While I missed my family (and was bummed I couldn't do the race today), I did enjoy the alone time and getting to do whatever I wanted without having to worry about a three-year-old tagging along. It was especially nice in stores yesterday not having to remind anyone about the "one finger touch" rule.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Dedication? That's Totally Me.
Todays title? Falls under the "Delusional" category of this blog.
I haven't been to yoga in nearly a month. I haven't been running, I haven't been swimming, I haven't been walking or biking or weightlifting or even doing much housecleaning in the past couple of weeks.
But I'm finally almost not coughing any more, either.
My next triathlon is three weeks from today. If anything, I might actually be further from my goals than when I last posted. (And the gap in posts is a reflection of computer angst, not laziness, just so you know.)
P. A. N. I. C.
So tomorrow I'm supposed to be running in a race, but instead I'm out of state, at a hotel, by myself, assigned to judge a meet. I'm not complaining; it's income. Plus I love judging. This is not the first time I've been to this hotel and I knew they had a pool, so I packed my swimsuit. I honestly wasn't truly expecting a chance (or motivation) to use it since normally when I stay at a hotel for a meet, there are usually about 200 athletes in the same hotel and ALL of them AND their siblings are busy playing Marco Polo in the swimming pool.
And MARCO! trying POLO! to MARCO! swim POLO! laps MARCO! in POLO! that MARCO! is POLO! about MARCO! as POLO! much MARCO! fun POLO! as MARCO! trying POLO! to MARCO! read POLO! this MARCO! sentence POLO!
Except more annoying.
Weirdly, the pool area was EMPTY when I went to check on it. I ran back upstairs, changed, ran back down (fine, fine, I took the elevator both times), and . . . it was still empty.
I lost count of the number of laps I swam it was so many.
Yes, yes, the pool was probably equivalent to the length of my hotel room, so it was more about practicing my flip turns than anything. But I worked on that, my stroke technique, kicking, maximizing my breath, that kind of thing, for about 25 minutes. And then the hot tub (which oddly I didn't soak in forever.
Oh yeah, and this afternoon I spent about two hours walking.
So I'm a little bit dedicated. Or possibly bored because I'm not used to being able to do anything without my daughter tagging along and it's kind of weird to be off on my own.
More judging tomorrow, while I miss her race, and then back home.
I haven't been to yoga in nearly a month. I haven't been running, I haven't been swimming, I haven't been walking or biking or weightlifting or even doing much housecleaning in the past couple of weeks.
But I'm finally almost not coughing any more, either.
My next triathlon is three weeks from today. If anything, I might actually be further from my goals than when I last posted. (And the gap in posts is a reflection of computer angst, not laziness, just so you know.)
P. A. N. I. C.
So tomorrow I'm supposed to be running in a race, but instead I'm out of state, at a hotel, by myself, assigned to judge a meet. I'm not complaining; it's income. Plus I love judging. This is not the first time I've been to this hotel and I knew they had a pool, so I packed my swimsuit. I honestly wasn't truly expecting a chance (or motivation) to use it since normally when I stay at a hotel for a meet, there are usually about 200 athletes in the same hotel and ALL of them AND their siblings are busy playing Marco Polo in the swimming pool.
And MARCO! trying POLO! to MARCO! swim POLO! laps MARCO! in POLO! that MARCO! is POLO! about MARCO! as POLO! much MARCO! fun POLO! as MARCO! trying POLO! to MARCO! read POLO! this MARCO! sentence POLO!
Except more annoying.
Weirdly, the pool area was EMPTY when I went to check on it. I ran back upstairs, changed, ran back down (fine, fine, I took the elevator both times), and . . . it was still empty.
I lost count of the number of laps I swam it was so many.
Yes, yes, the pool was probably equivalent to the length of my hotel room, so it was more about practicing my flip turns than anything. But I worked on that, my stroke technique, kicking, maximizing my breath, that kind of thing, for about 25 minutes. And then the hot tub (which oddly I didn't soak in forever.
Oh yeah, and this afternoon I spent about two hours walking.
So I'm a little bit dedicated. Or possibly bored because I'm not used to being able to do anything without my daughter tagging along and it's kind of weird to be off on my own.
More judging tomorrow, while I miss her race, and then back home.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Backsliding and Panic
Since I still can't exercise without inducing coughing fits and making myself worse, I'm not only frustrated, but not progressing.
I woke up this morning and realized that my next triathlon is less than a month away.
Holy bad words, I've got to get my butt in gear.
I'm not doing this next triathlon with any delusions of winning or placing. Not finishing last would be nice, since I now feel like I'm past the "doing it to see if I could finish it" phase, but from what I gather about this particular event, the people who tend to sign up are SERIOUS, so finishing not last might not be an option for me.
So in just under one month, I need to do the following:
Get my 500 yard swim down to 11 minutes (I'm at 11:28 as of my last timed effort).
Run a full 3.1 miles (I'm at 2 miles, at a 15-minute mile pace).
Recondition my "biker butt" since the saddle on my bike is ridiculously hard and I'm probably not going to get a new saddle before the race.
So I'd better get my unconditioned (in more ways than one) butt off the computer and in gear.
Even if I do end up in a coughing fit.
I had intended to go workout at the gym near my daughter's gymnastics, but we couldn't seem to get moving, and I barely got to her gymnastics lesson on time.
I did actually go and tumble on the tumbletrack (a 40 foot trampoline with a resi-pit at the end) for a little while.
Good news: I was able to jump without much pain. Bad news: If I don't get into better shape, my years at trying to jump back into "playing" on the equipment are extremely limited--and could be months if I'm not careful and injure myself.
I'd been tumbling for only about five minutes and was TOTALLY winded (and high on adrenaline). I glanced at the clock and noticed it was about 20 minutes until the end of my daughter's class. I set a little "goal" for myself of continuing to tumble until the end of her class.
One of the little boys in her class saw me and said, "WOW! I didn't know she could do THAT!"
My daughter immediately piped up, "That's MY mommy!"
Ah, so nice to have her be proud of me. I will have to treasure this because IF I could still do these tricks in 10 years (which would make me hugely proud of myself), I'm sure it will instead highly embarrass her.
I did a few old tricks, including a roundoff back layout. I was really tempted to try a layout full, except that I had visions of recreating the scene from the movie "Stick It" where Jeff Bridges ends up needing 9-1-1 assistance--on that exact skill.
15 minutes into my tumbling (and 10 minutes short of my little mini-goal), I was getting quite tired. In terms of endurance pushing myself, I could have kept going. In terms of safety; this is where I can actually DO moderation and was getting kind of worried trying to figure out how many more passes I could live through uninjured, and what easier skills I would have to start doing to be able to keep going.
Thing is, I was already at a pretty basic level in terms of what I could do on the Tumbletrack.
Then my daughter's class rotated to trampoline.
And probably saved me from hurting myself by kicking me off.
Still, I did the following skills:
Roundoff back tuck
Roundoff back layout
Roundoff back tuck onto 24" elevated surface
Roundoff doubleback timer onto 24" elevated surface
Front tuck
Front handspring front tuck to butt
Front handspring front tuck to feet!
Front tuck to 24" elevated surface
Most of them I did more than once, too.
Before you get too impressed, I also managed to do a front tuck to my feet when I 37 weeks (just over 8 months) pregnant.
In other words, for me, some of these skills I've been able to do for nearly 3 decades, so they are almost as intuitive as riding a bicycle.
Unfortunately, that was my entire workout for today.
I woke up this morning and realized that my next triathlon is less than a month away.
Holy bad words, I've got to get my butt in gear.
I'm not doing this next triathlon with any delusions of winning or placing. Not finishing last would be nice, since I now feel like I'm past the "doing it to see if I could finish it" phase, but from what I gather about this particular event, the people who tend to sign up are SERIOUS, so finishing not last might not be an option for me.
So in just under one month, I need to do the following:
Get my 500 yard swim down to 11 minutes (I'm at 11:28 as of my last timed effort).
Run a full 3.1 miles (I'm at 2 miles, at a 15-minute mile pace).
Recondition my "biker butt" since the saddle on my bike is ridiculously hard and I'm probably not going to get a new saddle before the race.
So I'd better get my unconditioned (in more ways than one) butt off the computer and in gear.
Even if I do end up in a coughing fit.
I had intended to go workout at the gym near my daughter's gymnastics, but we couldn't seem to get moving, and I barely got to her gymnastics lesson on time.
I did actually go and tumble on the tumbletrack (a 40 foot trampoline with a resi-pit at the end) for a little while.
Good news: I was able to jump without much pain. Bad news: If I don't get into better shape, my years at trying to jump back into "playing" on the equipment are extremely limited--and could be months if I'm not careful and injure myself.
I'd been tumbling for only about five minutes and was TOTALLY winded (and high on adrenaline). I glanced at the clock and noticed it was about 20 minutes until the end of my daughter's class. I set a little "goal" for myself of continuing to tumble until the end of her class.
One of the little boys in her class saw me and said, "WOW! I didn't know she could do THAT!"
My daughter immediately piped up, "That's MY mommy!"
Ah, so nice to have her be proud of me. I will have to treasure this because IF I could still do these tricks in 10 years (which would make me hugely proud of myself), I'm sure it will instead highly embarrass her.
I did a few old tricks, including a roundoff back layout. I was really tempted to try a layout full, except that I had visions of recreating the scene from the movie "Stick It" where Jeff Bridges ends up needing 9-1-1 assistance--on that exact skill.
15 minutes into my tumbling (and 10 minutes short of my little mini-goal), I was getting quite tired. In terms of endurance pushing myself, I could have kept going. In terms of safety; this is where I can actually DO moderation and was getting kind of worried trying to figure out how many more passes I could live through uninjured, and what easier skills I would have to start doing to be able to keep going.
Thing is, I was already at a pretty basic level in terms of what I could do on the Tumbletrack.
Then my daughter's class rotated to trampoline.
And probably saved me from hurting myself by kicking me off.
Still, I did the following skills:
Roundoff back tuck
Roundoff back layout
Roundoff back tuck onto 24" elevated surface
Roundoff doubleback timer onto 24" elevated surface
Front tuck
Front handspring front tuck to butt
Front handspring front tuck to feet!
Front tuck to 24" elevated surface
Most of them I did more than once, too.
Before you get too impressed, I also managed to do a front tuck to my feet when I 37 weeks (just over 8 months) pregnant.
In other words, for me, some of these skills I've been able to do for nearly 3 decades, so they are almost as intuitive as riding a bicycle.
Unfortunately, that was my entire workout for today.
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