I am about to board a flight to Oregon to spend some time
with my aunt and uncle – as well as indulge in a bit of trail running and craft
beer drinking. But, in order to satisfy
my reading public, I thought I would simply send a quick workout update before
doing so – and to celebrate the fact that my workout buddy has returned from
his long week away. (He gained 6 bs
while gone … therefore he felt compelled not to skip his workouts this week. By Friday, he’d managed to lose all but a
couple of them!)
So, Monday, we met and took it easy on the bike. I’d just completed a fairly tough weekend of workouts
– and while I wasn’t sore, Matt’s always good to remind me that I need the easy
days so that I don’t feel fatigued and overworked.
Tuesday, Matt met me for a 4.5 mile run through my
neighborhood. Nothing exciting to report
– although, I was evidently going pretty slow, so there was some complaining
from the peanut gallery.
Wednesday I got up and headed to the pool. Aaron got me stoked to try some new drills in
the pool. Needless to say, I kicked my
own ass and was exhausted for the rest of the day. I know I have to spend more time doing speed
drills in the pool or I will never get faster.
Well, even with my easy laps in between the tough sprints, I had an avg
100 meter pace of 2:18 – rather than my usual 2:33 (over 1700 meters). My sprints were right around 2:00/100
meters. It probably seems like nothing
to these real swimmers, but 2:18 would be a dream for me.
Thursday, I met Matt at the trailhead and we did 5 miles
(2.5 out and back) on the Desert Classic.
Work has been pretty stressful lately – what with the Affordable Care
Act wreaking havoc on my staffing needs – so, he allowed me to bitch about
fewer staff, less money and higher expectations. By the end of the 5 miles, I thanked him for
always allowing me to unload on our tougher runs. It was a hot morning – so the run was tougher
than usual, too.
This morning (Friday), we met with the anticipation of another Tour
de Ahwatukee – but by mile 5 we both laughed and decided to push out some fast
miles on Pecos Road and out to the reservation, instead. 23+ miles later, Matt was spent and I was
lamenting the fact that I would be away from my beloved bike for 10 days. But – Matt assured me my trip would be worth
the separation pains.
So, my friends – I am
off. More in another week or two!
Gotta say – not really in the mood to spend time writing my
blog, today. I am going to let the
pictures speak for the majority of this, but here’s the run-down.
Monday – I took a much much much needed day off of work
outs. Tuesday – I got up, rode hard for 18+ miles through the
Foothills of Ahwatukee and felt pretty accomplished for the rest of the day.
Wednesday morning, knowing I had to be on the road to a team
retreat (work related team, of course) in Prescott at 6am, I managed a lovely 6
mile run at 4am.
The sun was JUST coming up -- pic looks so odd because of it.
Thursday, in Prescott, my team-mate and fellow Ragnarian, Brian, and I
went on an uber tough 3.5 mile run. I
know, I know – what could possibly have been so tough given all that I have
done. Well, Prescott’s elevation is over
5000 feet -- and then we climbed another
few hundred in the first mile of the run.
And, then we did it again – yep, twice around this beautiful, challenging
trail.
Taken with Brian's iPhone myspace style.
See...look at the starting elevation numbers. My heart was practically begging to come out of my chest.
Matt was back in town on Friday, so he and I went out for an
easy ride on Friday morning.
Saturday, knowing I needed to get in a long run, I headed
out for a 10 miler. The temps are far
warmer, so about 6+ miles into the run I seriously wanted it to be over. I was warm, my water was warm and I was
getting slower. But, as I rounded the
corner at mile 7.5, a Dido song came on my iPod, and I was not going to
surrender (Dido: White Flag). For
whatever reason, its theme carried me for another 2.5 miles. I finished strong and happy.
Trust me, this is the expression of total relief (that its over).
After a solid night’s sleep, I awakened this morning feeling
ready to hit the pool for a solid 1500 meters.
I am, sadly, not getting any faster, so I know I have to get back to my
Masters class when I return from my upcoming vacation.
As soon as I completed my swim, I rushed home, threw my bike
in my car and headed to South Mountain for Silent Sunday. I believe the last time I enjoyed a morning
climb to the summit – it was a dark December morning. My good friend (and fellow triathlete),
Aaron, met me at 6:30am, and we trudged up the mountain together. All was going well until just before the
summit when this poor sap in front of me couldn’t push out the last 2/10ths to
the top and stopped completely, nearly teetering over. This of course meant I lost all momentum and
also nearly fell over. I got off my bike
and walked briskly for about a 1/10 before hitting a spot from which I knew I
could muster energy to climb to the top.
So, it was a rather pathetic last attempt at the top, but I was NOT
going to not make it. That was not an
option, even if it meant I had to walk.
At the very top! I really liked this photo -- we looked like jackasses taking pics. There were like 30 cyclists at the top.
Aaron and I flew down the mountain and, once at the bottom,
raced back to our cars. It was a lot of
fun, albeit super hard. I am glad I did
both, today. I feel rather accomplished!
Not sure when the next blog will be – I am off to Oregon and
wine country this coming Friday. I will
bring my running shoes (both trail and street) – there will be lots of pictures
and tales when its all over. I simply
cannot wait!
(Has any blog of mine ever been this short? Well…truth be known, I need a nap – this is
really all I have in me, today.)
Awkward shot, but Anne and Lyla met me for breakfast this morning.
I completely wrecked myself from workouts, this weekend – so
much so that I am actually impressed with how I was able to convince myself to
continue even when everything inside me told me to quit.
So, Monday, we did a moderate ride out Pecos Road and
back. Matt was still tipsy from having a
few too many beers the evening prior, but he was able to push out the miles at
a moderate speed, so it wound up being a nice 18 or so miles.
Tuesday, we hit the trails for a 5 mile run out the Desert
Classic – just to remind ourselves that we can still muddle through in the
heat.
Clearly tired of my whining due to the rise in temperatures,
I did hill repeats on the bike alone on Wednesday morning. It was hard and hot – but I can tell I am
improving with each climb up the big hills.
(The pay-off came this weekend.
Wait for it…)
Thursday, I evidently didn’t offend Matt and he joined me
for over 6 miles on the Desert Classic trail, again. I wish so much that we’d stopped and taken
pictures of the sun rise. As we crested
the highest point, the sky was filled in the distance with bright, vivid reds –
which faded into pinks and purples. But
there is no picture evidence, so it will live in our memories, instead.
Friday morning I got up, before heading north for a little
wine with my friend Kris, and pushed out a nice 1500 meter swim. Its weird, this time of year, I actually find
myself alone in the pool during peak gym hours.
Its good and bad. Having someone
in the lane with me, or the lane next to me, always pushes me to work a little
harder or go a little longer. Instead, I
listen to my music and often forget it.
It was flag day - of course.
However, Saturday morning I agreed to meet Matt and the
Curbside Cycling group for (what I thought was supposed to be) a 30 mile
ride. I explained to Matt on several
occasions that week that I was not really mentally equipped for another massive
group ride. I hated it the first time,
and have been completely disinterested since.
And, I also explained that as a triathlete, I have no need to learn to
ride in groups well – there’s a no draft policy by the USTA, so it does me
little good to ride with a group of testosterone-riddled men on $5000-$10,000
road-bikes. Matt convinced me it would
be ok and that he wouldn’t lose me, so I agreed to try it again. He also assured me that this particular group
was nothing like the last, horrible group I rode with.
As we headed out of the Parking Lot of Curbside Cycles, I
was already feeling sick with nerves. I
was told we would ride in pairs, so while I started next to Matt, some chick
showed up alone and meandered in front of us – so I had to line up next to her,
instead. I gave Matt the look of death,
after realizing I had no option but to ride next to her. He assured me we’d work it out after the
warm-up.
Well, 8 miles later, we figured it out and I was able to
ride next to Matt for the next 12-15 miles.
Things seemed pretty easy – easier than I thought they’d be, for some
time. Matt even commented that he was
either a lot better rider than he used to be, or this group had changed from
the last time he rode with them. All
this commentary happened until we hit the hills of Ahwatukee and I got
dropped.
I struggled up 17th Ave – trying desperately to
latch on to the group, but they were cranking away at speeds over 16 miles per
hour on some of the steepest sections. I
could see Matt working hard to keep up, and he did a far better job than I at
doing so. He chilled at the top and
allowed me to catch up to him, but I have to say – pushing 22 mph on the flats to
catch him AFTER climbing that hill was NO easy feat.
And then we turned left again – onto the long, drawn out,
backside of the Desert Foothills Parkway.
Last week, it was my claim to fame, as I was able to hold the lead over
Matt for the entirety of the climb.
After giving 17th Ave all he had, I knew I would
have a chance at kicking his ass on this long one. So, the climb started and I rode alongside
Matt. Not much was said, as we were around
a lot of people struggling up the hill, but we passed several. Then, a steep section, and Matt started to
fall behind. I gave him a few words of
encouragement, but got nothing in return.
He kept up with me for a bit, but then I decided it was time to reach
speeds I had never attempted on this climb.
I pushed and pushed and pushed.
At one point, I could not remember whether Matt was in front of me or
behind me – I was focused on the pavement and reaching the top – nothing more. (For the record, he was behind me.)
Just before hitting the very top, I heard someone behind me
(right behind me). “Really impressive
work!” came the unfamiliar voice. I
uttered something back about his work, as well.
I have no idea who was trying to catch me on the climb, but I never saw
him. Later Matt told me that he (and
some other guy) peeled off at the top of the hill.
I met Matt at the bottom of the incredibly fun, 1.5 mile
descent. He complimented me on my rush
to the top and all I could do was smile.
I impressed myself, for sure. We’d
caught the rest of the group at this point, and continued for the rest of the
ride. And, this is evidently where the
boys are separated from the men. Back
out on Pecos Road we were no longer doing 23-25 mph – nope. We were flying at 29-30-31+ mph. I hung as long as I could before getting
passed by a guy who was not impressed with me, and then I lost my mojo. I could not keep up. The guy who held the tail moved in front of
me and said, “I’m not going to drop you.
Latch on!” – so I did. 28-29 mph
on his wheel. It was some of the most
difficult drafting I’d ever done. I was
so grateful to that guy. ‘Cause clearly
Matt didn’t notice I’d fallen slightly behind.
There is nothing like the realization that you’re flying along at 29-30
mph and doing little drafting because the wheel of the guy in front of you is
simply too stinkin’ far away. Those are
proud and sad moments, all at once. I
simply didn’t know I could do it – but I knew I couldn’t do it for very
long. That was for certain.
By the time Matt realized I wasn’t really “with” the group,
he’d practically gotten to the end of the road.
He was on cloud 9 – relishing in his ability to stick with the group at
those incredible speeds. It was really
hard for me to be enthusiastic for him – I was exhausted and overheated.
The Curbside group made another left to climb 17th
Ave for a 2nd time, as Matt said, “I’m going straight. I’m not going back for seconds.” (Or
something like that.) They were the
greatest words EVER! We continued down
Pecos and up 48th Street to the Parking Lot of Curbside Cycles. And then I carried on to my house. My bike clock said “40.7 miles” total. 30
miles, my ass. I want to know who I
complain to?!
This morning, we were back on the trailhead for something I’d
never done before. We headed out the
Desert Classic for nearly 4 miles before making a left on the Corona de Loma
trail – up and over to the north side of the mountain. Holy crap!
I tried to run what I could, but it was over 1000 feet of elevation in
less than a mile. My back hurt and my
butt hurt, but with every switch-back came a view of the valley below. I squealed a couple of times, as the sun rose
over the valley – it was simply stunning.
As my watch beeped the end of the 5th mile, I hit the top of
the mountain and was exhausted. It was a
different kind of exhaustion than I had ever felt. My legs were Jello, for sure.
Matt explained the next section to me, but it seemed harder
than I could imagine. I ran what I
could, again, and hiked what made sense to hike. By the middle of the 7th mile,
Matt and I had a come to jesus
moment. It was getting pretty hot and we
were both getting low on water. So, we
opted to cut the 12 mile route to 10 – and I was, of course, pleased. At this point, I was no longer running – I began
calling it the “Trail Shuffle” – I even sang a little song about it in my head
to amuse myself through the pain at the top of the mountain.
The last couple of miles were downhill, but it was a lot of
technical descending, so I was uber cautious.
My legs were weak and my mental fortitude had waned 3 miles back, but
was descending down the National Trail continually hoping I would see Telegraph
Pass and know I was only a little over a mile from the car.
Naturally, I was so excited when I could see the bench at
the top of Telegraph Pass, that during the last narrow, steep, switchback of
the National Trail, I reached out to place my hand on a rock to shimmy my way
down. Sadly, it was not a rock. Rather it was a darkly shaded, barrel cactus
and within seconds I screamed like a baby and bled profusely as I picked every
goddamned needle out of my right hand.
I was so angry at myself that I cranked my music up higher
and tried to navigate the descent of Telegraph Pass as fast as my little legs
(and the crowded trail) would allow me.
I am sure everyone found me painfully rude as they hiked their way up
and down, but I was focused and, if someone got in the way, they were going to
have a palm of blood on their shirt – that was certain.
I was grateful to see Matt smiling at the base of the
trail. He asked if I was still
Jello-legged as we finished the last 4/10th of a mile. I told him, “No, hell, I feel great!” (eye roll)
When we hit the parking lot, I showed him my punctured right hand. His only comment… “That shit better make it
into the blog,” as he laughed. It true;
I was so delusional on the trail, I actually mistook a barrel cactus for a
rock. I deserved what came to me.
Out of water and happy to be done, I did something I never
thought possible. Just look at that
elevation between mile 4 and 5.
BAM!
Seriously - click on it.
Matching Ragnarians -- totally unplanned!
Oh, and did I mention that I registered for my first ½ Ironman? Yup – Oceanside, California – March 29th,
2014. Watch out!
I know its been a couple weeks, but I have a good excuse –
after last weekend’s race in San Diego, I got home super late and simply did
not have time all week to write this blog.
So, you’ll have a couple of weeks of material to sort through as you read.
Skipping all of the pre-race workouts (and trust me there
were a few runs and rides in there somewhere), Anne, Loretta, Amy and I agree
to meet on Saturday (June 1) at 6:15am at Loretta’s house in Maricopa. For those of you who don’t know the
topography of Arizona – Maricopa is en route to San Diego, so it only made
sense for us to descend on Loretta’s home as our take-off spot.
Anne agree to allow us to take her car (its newer, roomier
and has limited miles). I only agreed to
this if Anne allowed me to drive, though.
See, Anne drives a little like a grandma and, seriously, I just don’t
think any of us wanted to “see” if we could make San Diego by sunset – so we
agreed I would drive.
After leaving Maricopa on schedule, we proceeded to stop
every 90 minutes so Loretta could pee. I
think we all seriously considered removing any liquid beverage on her
possession after the 2nd request for a bathroom break. I actually wondered at one point whether
Loretta was more like my brother than I thought and she simply loved checking
out restrooms as we made our way across Arizona and into California. Turns
out, she actually did have to pee – so that theory was shot. For all future trips we will be bringing 3-year-old-Sean’s
porta-potty with us on the off chance there’s no appropriate rest stop. (I love you, Loretta! – bathroom stops and
all.)
We landed in San Diego in record time and were able to check
into our hotel early. After a filling
lunch, the four of us made our way to the Expo to gather our bibs and race
gear. Well, I guess 1:30pm the day
before the race is a downright awful time to attend an expo because the four of
us were miserable as we made our way through crowded vendor after crowded
vendor. It was disappointing to say the
least. Anne and I picked a fight with
the Snuggbuds sales person, as we detailed our issues with their product. That turned out to be an expo-downer for all
of us. Suffice it to say, Snuggbuds are
the worst headphones for athletes. They
come apart, the sound quality fails after a month of use and the sales team is
obnoxious if you attempt to ask them about their faulty product. They should seriously fire whoever worked the
San Diego Marathon expo – because our prior experiences with sales-guy-Steve
were FAR better.
Outside the Expo: Loretta, Anne, Amy and Me
Snuggbuds aside, the four of us enjoyed each other’s company
and decided to head back to the hotel for some rest before dinner. I won’t
even go into dinner, save to say that it was one of the more interesting steak
places I have ever been to. There was a
trashy bachelorette party taking place at the table next to ours – which made
for another fairly obnoxious outing. But
after a quick table change – we managed to have a delightful experience and
delicious food.
The next morning, the four of us agree to meet at 4:30am in
the hotel lobby. The weather app on my
phone said it was 61 degrees and cloudy.
I stashed a sweatshirt in Loretta’s bag since she intended to check a
bag at the race start – which turned out to be the best decision I had made the
entire trip.
The four of us were anxious.
Anne and Loretta had been pulling great times on their training runs, so
they were really hoping for Personal Records in San Diego. I was merely hoping for another sub-2 and Amy
was really hoping to finish without injury.
We meandered around the start for about an hour before we
all headed to our respective corrals to listen for the National Anthem and the
start of the race.
When the siren sounded, they released us one corral at a
time. I was in corral 5 – so 4 minutes
after the 1st horn blew we were off in anticipation of a strong
finish. You always go into races full of
optimism and enthusiasm – sometimes it works, sometimes it fails, but you get
after it each and every time.
At the 1 mile marker my watch read 8:46. I was on fire. I felt good and was excited for about another
3/10ths of a mile when my right side developed a bit of a side
stitch. Figuring it would go away if I
slowed slightly, I ran through the pain.
By the 2nd mile marker, I had lost my pace substantially and
saw 9:18 across the face of my watch. I
knew I needed to bring things back down to a 9 minute mile to save my sub-2
pace, but by mile 3 the pain had only worsened.
I ran with a side stitch for another 5 miles before finally deciding to
take a mixture of Gatorade and Water to see if it might fix things. Strangely, it did, but the pain had left an
ache I can only liken to arthritis. It
was a throbbing ache – no longer a sharp pain in my side. As if, perhaps, the pain left a bruise from
all of the heavy breathing. So, I simply
took what my body would give me and I finished with a 2:08.
Some of you probably remember last year’s San Diego half
where I had the flu and vomited my way to the finish line in 2:21 – at least
this year there was no vomit. But, I
have yet to feel good about a San Diego running race. I am not going to get mad about a 2:08, but
it leaves me wanting to immediately sign up for next year’s race – seeking vindication,
yet again.
As I made my way through the finisher’s chute, I checked my
phone and could see the Anne had already passed the 10th mile
marker. I was excited. I knew if she kept it up she would finish in
2:24-2:25. Once again, though, while
making my way through the chute, I began to shiver uncontrollably. I asked someone for one of the race’s mylar
blankets, but was told that it was only for runners seeking medical
attention. In AZ when its 80 degrees at
the finish line, they are handed out like candy – in San Diego when its 60
degrees, cloudy and 90% humidity (so we’re all soaked to the bone), they’re
only for the “truly” injured.
So, as my lips turned purple, I waited for everyone to
finish the race. And, they did – one by
one. Loretta finished and found me in
the back of the chute shivering. She was
excited – she finished in 2:20 – a Personal Record for her!
Then we both waited in anticipation for Anne. And, sure enough, about 10 minutes later we
saw her smiling face make its way through the crowd of people – she’d done
it. 2:25 on the race clock! Another Personal Record for Anne. I threatened her by telling her that if she
didn’t hit 2:30, I would omit her from my blog, this week. Looks like she made it.
Now there were 3 of us shivering like mad wishing for a
freakin’ mylar blanket. Loretta scurried
off to get her bag while Anne and I waited, huddled together in an effort to
warm each other up.
The highlight of the finish, though, was the headlining band
– the Psychedelic Furs. Amy sent us a
text letting us know she was dying on the course and would meet us back at the
hotel, while Anne, Loretta and I went to the stadium for the concert. What a blast!
They sang all my favorites and the camera man threw Anne and me up on
the jumbo-tron at one point, as we sang and danced in our seats.
Click on it -- Richard Butler is RIGHT between our heads! And in case you don't remember who they are... see below.
The trip was a HUGE success – albeit cold. Anne and Loretta had amazing times; the Furs
played an awesome post-race show and the 4 of us had a fantastic time. I don’t know that I have laughed that much in
48 hours -- ever.
I didn’t manage to put my blog together for that race
because of our late arrival home, but I had some really nice workouts, this
week, even though my body was in recovery mode.
Tuesday, I had a nice 4.5 mile run through my neighborhood.
Wednesday, I managed to push out some nice numbers on my
bike on my tough hill route before work.
The headband marking is particularly apparent in this shot.
Thursday, we did our painfully hard trail run/hike up
Telegraph Pass, down Kwanis Trail and back – that is NO easy feat. Not to mention, the temps this week in the
Phoenix area hit over 110 several days in a row, so the mornings were far
warmer than they had been.
Then, Friday, Matt had been interested in doing something he
called “Tour de Ahwatukee”. This “Tour”
would take us up and over the 5 hardest hills in the Foothills. I was up for it – I mean, why not?!
Hill #1 – Matt took handedly.
Hill #2 – I was on his tail, but again, Matt won.
Hill #3 – (our least favorite) I left Matt in the dust –
enough so that I felt like he might not make the next two.
BUT….
Hill #4 – I thought I had it. We had passed a group of riders as if they
were standing still in the first section of the hill. And, at one point I even said something
crappy to Matt like “Um, you comin, or what?!”
I lived to regret that, as he caught me near the top of the hill and
maintained to the finish. I was soooo
annoyed. It was mine… sigh.
Hill #5 – is the one we always compete for the most. It’s the longest of all of them. Often we feel/hear the other breathing down
our necks if we take the lead, and that’s precisely what happened on
Friday. I took the lead early and didn’t
want to give it up. About 2/3s of the
way up the hill, I turned back and could see Matt fighting to take over. I cranked harder in the steepest section and
it paid off. I took hill #5 – and we
bumped fists as we descended the long course down.
Naturally, Matt reminded me that he’d taken 3 of 5 hills,
but with a smile, he also admitted that I took the two most difficult. I sang, “We are the champions” en route back
to the Park ‘n Ride and we both felt really good about that ride. I hope he agrees to do it again, one of these
mornings.
Saturday was an easy swim day. I have to maintain the ability to punch out
1500 meters for the Triathlon in September – and so I hit the pool and did
exactly that. I’ll have to start my
Masters Swim classes again, soon – as my times are not what they can and should
be.
But, this morning was another great trail run through Pass
Mountain. My weather app said “85
degrees” when I left the house, so I filled my Camelbak and accepted that my
times would be slower. By 5:15am I was
on the trail and enjoying the beauty of the Superstition Mountains. This particular trail is situated between so
many beautiful mountains and hills. The
sun hits sections in all the right ways – and it is a sight to be seen. I took a shot nearly at the top (about 1/3 of
a mile to go from the summit) because it was simply stunning out. I knew my times would be rough – as I needed
more water breaks than usual and my heart-rate was much higher than when its
only 50 degrees out.
Mile 3.6 of 7.5 -- almost to the top!
7.5 miles later, I hit the trailhead again and was filled
with excitement. There is nothing like a
trail run as the sun crests the mountains.
And at the start/end!
Sorry it was so long – but it is what it is. Hope you managed to enjoy it.
