the offseason...

Welcome to my offseason.

I have one now!!

And I am addicted to the Olympics...up late, up early to watch...and why would I train, when THIS is on...

I kinda feel like Mrs. Robinson when I see these boys....

Three words for this post: holy, fit, hotties

Habitat for Humanity

Yesteday I built a house.
Seriously.
Actually I worked on the roof of a house. It was super cool and super fun! It was a women's build so the entire house is being built by women...I hammered nails like a pro yesterday...my right arm is friggin sore...and I am sunburnt. I even cut wood, climbed up and down that ladder (with tired legs!), learned some new words, got a recipe for crab apple moonshine.

Three words to describe my day: community, ow!, four (40 ounces of vodka, 4 cups of sugar, 4 weeks...in a pail full of crab apples...hmmm)

the official results...

Last year:
Swim: 29.02
Bike: 2:28.56
Run: 1:28.58
Overall: 4:33

THIS YEAR:
Swim: 23.28 - second in age group...a friggin half a step behind Jenna!!
Bike: 2:15.49 - includes transitions and that second one was tough...super shaky legs, had to sit in the grass to get shoes on, took longer than it probably should have!!
Run: 1:21 - yak
Overall: 4:00.57

Three words to describe this race: hot, tired, PB

Frank Dunn Race Report

Well..there was more good about the day than bad...but still some bad which is crappy.

Stayed with Jenna in the RV, very nice and comfortable! THANK-YOU Jenna! Much appreciated. Up at the crack of dawn and had my bagel and banana and grapefruit. Puttered around the RV getting things organized and that would include Jenna's children. Then it started to pour rain just as we were leaving the RV for the beach. This made me seriously grumpy. But when we arrived at the beach, the rain had stopped and you could see the clear skies coming. Hooray!! Wandered around the transition area and got my timing chip and body marked. We did not have alot of time to spare but it appears I have my systems down for this sport!! Not like last year when I was totally frazzled and panicked and freaking out. So this was good. Went into the water for a warm up swim...everyone else warmed up, I just stood around in waist deep water. Have never been much for warming up for the swim!! Positioned myself way to the left of the group right in front. The horn went off and away we went. The swim course is a T and a tight left turn at the first bouy...I ducked under and swam UNDER the bouy!! Not sure if this was legal but nobody touched me and I had clear water for most of swim!! Caught a pack about halfway and assumed that someone was sighting properly...nope!! I looked up once and OMG we were WAY off course!! RATS!! Rounded the last bouy and swam right up next to Jenna...I was going to pinch her but not sure if she would feel it through the wet suit!

Onto the bike. This is what the day was for me...a really good bike ride. Last year I was scared to death to get on that bike...62km was like an eternity...at the end my back and neck and legs and butt were spent. This year, I had made my mind up I was going to pedal that bike like I was being chased...which is not far from the truth, actually!! I had a really good ride!! I don't know exactly what my time was but I am sure I took a whole chunk off from last year. Felt good and strong the whole way. Still got passed by too many people but I think that is just going to be the reality of my triathlon life. The course went through town about half way and I slowed right down as I knew Jenna was worried about leaving her kids so I wanted to look for them...once a mom, you are also the surrogate mom for all your friend's kids. I did not see them...but one of my tri-buddies passed me right after that and she asked why I had slowed down and to save her the story, I told her I was looking for the cameras!! Ha Ha!!

Anyway, the highway out there was super rough and I saw many, many with flat tires. So the triathlon gods were looking after me today in that respect.

Then came my horrid run. Okay, it wasn't horrid but close. I was pleased with my bike ride, started the run, found my legs at about the 3km mark, started to feel really good. Then about the half way mark, I did not feel like running anymore...I cannot explain it any better than this...I was not sick, nothing really hurt, I was tired but I had just pedalled 62km as hard as I could, my head just turned off. Jenna caught me and we ran together for a bit and then she took off on me and I walked a good chunk of that last half. I was disgusted with this!! And when things aren't going my way, I tend to pout and feel really bad for myself and then my mental state just hits the toilet. But I have analysed this a bit more and I had said the most important thing was the bike ride...I got that done. I did run a pretty solid 6.5km...that must count for something!!?? I have not ran for very long since the half ironman in July...I guess this would be important in hindsight. I wasn't even going to do this race...just not into it but I did something that just one year ago I was terrified to do. It was a gorgeous day, I knocked about 15-20 minutes off my time from last year...overall a pretty good day!! Will post the official times when I get them.

Jenna had a great day...but will let her tell you all about it...her Dad will be super proud!!

For all of you doing IRONMAN

Right now you've all entered the taper.
Perhaps you've been at this a few months, perhaps you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match. You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until next year to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.
You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.
You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.
You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you've already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb to go.
You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lies before you...and it will be a fast one. Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is something your body desperately needs, your mind cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.
It won't be pretty. It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn't know what the body already does.
Your body knows the truth:
You are ready.
Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish - that there is too much that can go wrong. You are ready. Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It's the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, "How will I ever be ready?" to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found the answer.
It is worth it.
Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.
You are ready.
You will walk into the water with 2000 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for so VERY long is finally here.
You will tear up in your goggles.
Everyone does. The helicopters will roar overhead. The splashing will surround you. You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one. The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll watch as the shoreline grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what happening, then you’ll head for the bike. The voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff can't wipe the smile off your face.You'll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman. You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun.
It's warmer now.
Maybe it's hot.
Maybe you're not feeling so good now.
You'll keep riding.
You'll keep drinking.
You'll keep moving.
After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?
You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride for what seems like hours. You reach special needs, fuel up, and head out. By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today. You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there. You'll fight for every inch of road. The crowd will come back to you here. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you - your body will get just that little bit lighter.
Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.
You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come - soon! You'll roll back - you'll see people running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back, with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2. You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike. You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you'll go.
You'll change.
You'll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that counts. You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a summer Sunday. High-five people on the way out.
Smile.
Enjoy it.
This is what you've worked for all year long. That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good. That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic - this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it won't last.
You'll keep moving.
You'll keep drinking.
You'll keep eating.
Maybe you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of schedule, don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it. Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded. How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't waste energy worrying about things - just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down. You'll make it to the halfway point. You'll load up on special needs. Some of what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good, toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back. Run if you can. Walk if you have to. Just keep moving. The miles will drag on. The brilliant sunshine will yawn. You'll be coming up to those aid stations fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup.
TAKE THE SOUP.
Keep moving. You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that you're going to make it. You'll start to imagine how good it's going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be like when someone catches you…and puts a medal over your head... all you have to do is get there. You'll start to hear the people in town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, and when you left on the run, and now when you've come back. You'll enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over. You'll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?" You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible. You'll hit mile 25. Your Ironman will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it. You'll run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but you will run. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter. Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps. Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You'll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the night sun made just for you. They'll say your name. You'll keep running. Nothing will hurt. The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you. You'll break the tape at the finish line, 140.6 miles after starting your journey. The flash will go off. You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly...be capable of nothing more. Someone will catch you. You'll lean into them.
It will suddenly hit you.
YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!
You are ready.
You are ready.