Worst Phoenix Heat - EVER!

I am sure that all of my endurance friends would agree – this week was one of the toughest weeks ever for training in Phoenix.  Temps and humidity levels sky-rocketed and there was no way out of it.  In hindsight, I should have made much better use of my gym membership, this week, as I was miserable on just about every outing.

Monday, naturally, I swam.  I had a great swim in my Masters class the weekend, prior, but I didn’t quite measure up alone on Monday morning.  I guess there really is something to having “Intimidating-Dan” in the lane with me.  That being said, I was still comfortable pulling out 1500 meters and feeling ready for San Diego when done.

Tuesday morning, I hit the streets of my neighborhood for a 6 mile run.  It was hot and it was humid, but it wasn’t so bad that it prevented me from pulling times I can be ok with at this time of the year – Overall Pace = 9:27. 

Wednesday morning, although still very hot and humid, I felt ready for my last hill ride before tapering for the Triathlon.  As soon as I left my house, something wasn’t right.  I was barely pulling 10-12 mph without feeling horribly winded.  So, about 3 minutes into the ride, I clipped out of my pedals to investigate my wheels and brake-pads.  Once, early into a ride, Matt discovered that I was dragging slightly on the brake-pad and therefore struggling to keep a simple pace.  As luck would have it, it was the same this time around, so I knew what to look for -- my front brake had likely adjusted itself the last time I pulled my bike out of my car; so after a moment of tweeking it, I was back on the road pulling numbers I could live with. 

Everything was working nicely – my bike, my lungs, my legs.  However, of course, I found myself stopping at every stopsign and stoplight on this trip – and there are easily a dozen over the 18 mile ride.  I really felt like I could have pulled a personal record (again), but with all the slowing and stopping and starting again, I missed doing so by .1 mph.  Disappointing, but as I always say – I’ll get her next time!

I met Matt for a 5 mile trail run on the Desert Classic, Thursday morning.  It was pretty dark when we started, so we walked to the beginning of the trail before getting our serious-run on.  2.5 miles out, 2.5 miles back.  Its my favorite thing in the world, but it’s so much harder in 86 degrees with 65% humidity.  We struggled.  I could hear Matt’s labored breathing behind me, as we reached the top of each ascent and I knew he could hear mine, as well.  Matt really struggled in those last couple of miles, but I felt pretty strong, despite the heat.  He thanked me in the end for pulling him through the misery.  I could only tell him how much more often the roles were reversed, so I was happy to be the one on the “giving end” this time around.

Friday morning, Matt and I happened to be doing similar rides (since I am not trying to kill myself for this last week or so of training).  So, we headed out Pecos Rd on our Road Bikes for 20 miles – chatting and arguing about work.  I think the real problem when we don’t go out hard is we find time to complain to one another about work – it usually irritates the other enough to get them to push harder and faster.  Friday was no different.  I bitched about one of his key areas of responsibility – and off he went.  Fortunately, he let off around mile 8 and we were able to laugh about it, later.  (Note to self – never blame Matt for the college’s lack of forward progress – he’ll only annihilate me on the bike, later.)

Saturday morning, I headed out for a 10 mile run in quite possibly the worst conditions EVER in Phoenix – at least it felt that way.  80% humidity, 81 degrees – or something like that.  Matt and I met, but we didn’t run together because by mile three I wanted to quit and I was fairly honest about it.  He carried on in front of me and I suffered through the next 7 miles, miserable and wondering if I will ever be able to complete another full marathon.  Serious doubts about my running filled my head.  A ten mile run should be NOTHING for me.  I can do that for breakfast and continue on to something else.  But not Saturday.  Fortunately, Matt told me, when I met him at the end, that he was fairly defeated by mile 6 or 8 and shuffled his way to the finish line, as well.  I would have loved it to have only been 2-3 miles of misery.  There is nothing like being inside the head of someone running 7 miles wishing it was all over.  I did make it to the end, but not without a lot of suffering. 

I was soaked.  My hair was saturated through.  My clothes adhered to my body like a leotard 10 sizes too small.  But I finished.  It was the ugliest finish, ever, but I finished.  May there be no more runs like that one again…in my life.

And, the reason I ran on Saturday instead of Sunday.  I met a couple of my Masters Swim classmates for an Open Water swim: Ashley and Alec.  We left the valley around 6am and were at Bartlett Lake’s swimming area by 7:15am.  The drive is stunning, as the lake is situated between several gorgeous mountain ranges.  Not to mention all the rains in the area had made the mountains lush.

As we got out of the car and made our way down to the beach – something was off.  I remembered a beach and there was none.  I remembered trudging through deep sand for a good 2-300 feet before reaching the water (from the parking area).  There was no beach, no sand. 

I stopped a woman and her son walking out to the end of a pier (a pier I didn’t remember, either) and asked them where the swimming area was.  The young boy said, “I saw some people training out here between the buoys last weekend.”  So, I then asked about the pier, and the woman commented that it was new.  Still puzzled I said, “I clearly remember a beach, though.”  Then I learned that the lake was so high, it covered the entire beach.  Instead, the water met the grass just beyond the parking and picnic area. 

Relieved, the three of us made our way along the water line and set our gear down.  I explained that we swam out to the buoys and then across the lake, passing buoy after buoy.  So we swam. 

Ashley and I are pretty equivalent swimmers.  We were neck and neck in our Masters drills and we were trading off leads this morning, too.  She was super smart to wear a neon green swim cap in the lake – I could spot her the entirety of the swim.  I am sure my dark blue cap did no one any favors. 

But, the water was nice and after several hundred meters all 3 of us were comfortable enough to do our own thing – checking in with each other at each end of the lake.  And after about 50 minutes, we were back at what should have been the beach,a sitting in the water, enjoying the fact that we weren’t running or cycling in the extreme heat of Phoenix.  I think its exactly what we all needed to feel better about our upcoming triathlons. 

Bartett Lake - peaceful

Ashley and Me - pre-swim

Alec finishing up, with Ashley in the foreground. 

All happy and done!

And, so the San Diego Tri Classic is 6 days away.  The next blog will likely detail that adventure.  Were it not for the miserable heat this week, I would joyously say “I feel ready.”  Instead, I will end with, “I am pretty sure I am ready.”