Life as a Bucco Fan

No matter what happens tonight, I'm going to enjoy something I haven't had the pleasure of doing in a long time, watch my Pittsburgh Pirates compete in a playoff game.  This blog will read like so many others you've read the past few months, yinzers thrilled for .500, then a winning season, and now this, playoffs!  While all of us were impacted differently by the unfortunate events of October 14th, 1992, I argue that those of us born in the early 80s took it the hardest.

My friends and I were 11 years old in 1992.  We were old enough to know and love baseball.  We knew the back of our favorite players' baseball cards better than we knew our phone numbers.  We could tell you batting averages, ERAs, and confidently fill out the scorecard that came in our game day program. We knew what pride meant, especially in The City of Champions.  But we were also young.  We weren't yet jaded by speculation of steroid use, or betting on the game.  We didn't know what kind of income pro athletes earned as our parents scrounged together the money to take us to dollar-dog night.  We had no idea that there were issues in the locker room.  These guys were just our baseball heroes.

I was born a Bucco fan.  My earliest photos are of me wearing a Pirate onesie.  I can't remember much being on our television growing up other than baseball.  Though my family is from Pittsburgh, I was technically born outside of Lexington, Kentucky.  Though it killed my mom to be away from home, she always said she could tolerate the tv in that part of the world because we got TBS, so she could see the Bucs when they played the Braves, we were close enough to Cincy to get the feed when they played the Reds, as well as any nationally televised games.

We moved back to Pittsburgh when I was 6 and my mom went to work for a wonderful woman named Maria, who happened to have Pirate season tickets.  Knowing my newly working and single mother didn't have endless fun money laying around, she would give up her seats nearly every Sunday so my mom could take me to the ballgame.  Her seats, by the way, were 9 rows back from first base!  And so my love affair with the Pirates began.  I had started playing baseball when I was 7, but wasn't good enough for the infield and bored out of mind in the outfield.  I complained to my grandfather (the biggest of Bucco fans).  He had a suggestion, do what he had done, become a catcher.  As he said, "You'll get to play every inning and be where the action is."  And so for the next ten years, I played catcher. Spanky LaValliere became my favorite player and 12 became my number.  I've worn number 12 in every sport I've ever played since.  I also started collecting autographs.  We would come to the ballpark early for batting practice and I used my tiny t-ball glove to start collecting signatures.  At present, there is only one notable 1991 & 1992 player missing from that glove...Andy Van Slyke.  The circumstances involving that are a different blog post, however.

My 9th birthday party was held at Three Rivers Stadium during a Pirate game.  That year I had determined that Van Slyke was my new favorite player.  No offense to Spanky, but AVS was slightly better looking.  My mom's friend Maria bought me my first, real sports jersey, #18.  I slept in it that night and so many others.  My mom once accidentally ironed the polyester sleeve, causing a part of it to burn, leading to the biggest fashion meltdown I can remember ever having.  The attachment to that jersey is unreal.

Then came the 1992 playoffs.  I won't rehash what happened, as we all already know.  But as Sid was called safe, I ran upstairs, tore off the Van Slyke jersey and cried myself to sleep.  Again, we were old enough to understand, but far too young to keep our emotions in check.  I believe I also vowed to never watch another Pirate game again.  The next year would bring a disappointing end to what I still contend is the best Penguins roster on record.  And by the time the Steelers lost to the Cowboys in 1995, we understood sports were a series of ebbs and flows.  Sadly, the Bucs never came back up, we just kept on "rebuilding."

I stuck with them though.  I used my job in Student Activities at Point Park University to purchase opening day tickets every year, even when I had to beg students to attend.  My friend Nate and I sat through all 9 innings in 2004 or 2005(?) when it was freezing rain.  I attended 7 straight opening days, praying for the Pirates to just be .500.  I once took verbal abuse from a 8 year-old in old Yankee Stadium while wearing my Sanchez jersey.  As he shouted, "The Pirates are losers!" I had no retort, we were.  We'd been losing for longer than this kid had been alive...twice as long actually.  I joined the Lady Bucs Club, which was an attempt to pair wine tasting with baseball to generate ticket sales.  I proudly sported my "Go Freddy Go" sign in the freezing cold (with many other excited fans) as Freddy Sanchez's run at the batting title brought one of the few bright spots of the past 20 years.

But I never stopped believing that we would someday be rebuilt.

And so here we are, with a playoff game this evening.  Someone asked where I would be watching the game.  I responded, "On my couch, wine in hand, Van Slyke jersey on (yes, it still fits), with a box of Kleenex nearby, for happy tears...and the endless replays of 1992 they are sure to show."

LET'S GO BUCS!  Raise It.

Racing Season Re-Cap

As I do each September, here's the re-cap of how the year went by the numbers.  The below is from my March post which outlined my racing goals for 2013.  More were unmet than met this year, but it's okay because I set the bar pretty high.  I ended on a really high note with a 5th place Age Group finish in the Atlantic City triathlon.  This was also the year that I finished my first Ironman-distance event.  There has also been an addition to this schedule which is the Marine Corps Marathon.  My goal will be to go under 4 hours.  I must say I'm a little tired from this summer and I'm not sure how that race will go but I'm going to give it what I've got!

March:

• 17th, Shamrock Marathon, VA Beach.  Goal: 4 hours - L 4:11

April: 

• 25th-28th, USA Hockey 30+ National Championships, Tampa FL. Goal: National Champions - L 3rd Place, again.

May: 

• 5th, Broad Street Run 10 Miler, Philadelphia PA. Goal: Sub 90 min -  J 1:26
• 12th (my birthday!), Race for the Cure 5k, Pittsburgh PA. Goal: sub 25 min - L 26:09 (PR on this course!) 
• 18th, American Zofingen, New Paltz NY. Goal: Finish Middle-Distance - L DNF again at this distance.  Already registered for 2014. 

June: 

• 23rd, Philadelphia Olympic Triathlon, Philadelphia PA. Goal: 2:50 or Top 30% of AG - L 2:56, 33% of AG

July: 

• 20th, MidNight Loop 8.4 miles, Philadelphia PA. Goal: 1:15 - Cancelled 
• 28th, Pittsburgh Olympic Triathlon, Pittsburgh PA. Goal: 2:45 or Top 30% of AG - (This race was done after an 8 hour training day the day before so it gets a J!) 2:48, 10/19 for AG

August: 

• 18th, IM Mt. Tremblant, Mt. Tremblant, Quebec Canada.  Goal: Sub 14 hour - J 13:53

September: 

• 8th, NJ Gran Fondo, Morristown NJ. Goal: Sub 14 min on each hill - Did not register.
• 15th, Atlantic City International Distance Triathlon, AC NJ. Goal: 2:25 -  J Not the time I wanted, but 2:27, 5/18 in AG

IMMT Race Report: Race Day

After a half-decent night of sleep, I woke up at 4:30am, filled with the notion that it was going to be a great day.  My husband was nice enough to walk to transition with me where my first order of business was to get air in my tires.  After borrowing a pump and doing it myself, I became worried that I hadn't done a good job.  I walked the bike over to the bike mechanics who when I asked if it was okay, said in a thick French-Canadian accent, "Close, but not quite."  So to those guys, thank you.

With the bike racked and ready to go, it was off to walk to the swim start.  The weather was much better than the day before in that there was no fog and the visibility was great.  The atmosphere that IMMT created was everything I wanted it to be and so much more.  The amazing singing of the Canadian Anthem, the fire flares and cannon blast to start the pros, the fact that the female pros got the same treatment as the males (there is nothing more disappointing than fanfare for the male pros only for the women to be sent off with an air horn), the military fly over, all of it, perfect.  I had gotten my wetsuit on with my friend Jill, walked to give my husband a big kiss and then tried desperately to find two people that I needed to before the gun went off.  I found Dianne first, exactly where I knew she would be, near the front, cell phone in hand, recording video of the day.  Dianne is the person that gets up with me (even when neither of us wants to) at 5am to hit the pool.  I was thrilled to ask her to zip up my wetsuit and send me off to my corral.  Cue the second bout of uncontrollable waterworks.  Then it was off to find Sue.  Shortly after meeting Sue playing ice hockey, I happened to finish a marathon right next to her dad, mistakenly thinking she was taking my photo.  I learned shortly thereafter that she was training for IMLP 2010.  I remember tracking her all day on my phone that year and being so impressed that someone could do this.  After that we began riding together and she has been an invaluable source of information for biking, triathlon, hockey and more.  As I was lining up for my wave's swim start, Sue and I found each other.  We shared the biggest hug that you could imagine, waterworks bout #3, and for the first time all morning, I felt ready.

Photo courtesy of Dianne San Luis

Swim: While many people were excited about the wave start for the swim, myself included, I am now no longer a fan.  As a medium to strong swimmer in the 30-34 AG, I was engaged in a 2.4 mile dog fight.  First with my age group, then with the best 35+ women who were swimming through us and then, worst of all, the poor swimmers in the men's division.  In my mind, as a good swimmer, you can seed yourself in a mass start and find like-paced people.  Having to swim through frantic, grasping, gasping, and now tired, large men at the end of a race segment was terrifying.  Normally you can shake that sort of nonsense quickly, but not in the wave start format.  Being mistaken for a buoy, and dragged under with .4 miles to go was not exactly how I wanted my day to start.  Nonetheless, I came out of the water filled with energy, running the entire red carpet to T1.

T1: I grabbed my bag and started to change when I realized how badly I had to use a bathroom.  I was told that there were a "few" port-o-johns in transition, but that I should change clothes first.  After doing so I took off sprinting out of the tent and then waited for 5 minutes...yes 5 minutes...to use one of the two 'johns that were intended for the pros.  Though I still had a ton of energy, it was a big momentum killer.

Bike Loop 1: For a number of reasons, including that I had never biked more than 96 miles in my life, I was a little worried about the 8 hour bike cut-off.  I had done that math that if I could keep my pace above 15 mph I would be okay.  My coach had suggested a slightly more aggressive pace so I figured as long as I stayed between those two, I would make it.  The first bike loop was great, I was keeping a super pace and taking in the beauty.  I kept thinking of what Sue had said the day before, which was to look around, take it all in and then be happy you get to see it one more time.  The Montee Ryan seemed to fly by, the out and back on 117 was challenging but fun, after the turnaround I was able to see my friends Heather, Sue, and Jill.  They all started in the wave behind me.  Admittedly I'm a better swimmer, but they are all better bikers, so I just held on waiting for them to catch me.  The small town of Saint-Jovite brought waterworks #4 as people lined the streets cheering in French and English, "Allez!  You can do it! Bravo!"  The Chemin Duplessis was exactly what I figured it would be...hard.  My goal was to keep it under control for round one and stay safe.  Those who bike with me know that I have walked my bike down far more hills than I have up.  As we started the final descent, some spectators (pretty much the only ones on that section) started screaming to slow-down.  Terrified that there had been a crash, I did as instructed.  As I made the bend, I realized that one of the spectators had a handful of pebbles and was throwing them at the butt of a deer who had managed to get stuck in the middle of the road.  Luckily his plan worked, the deer darted off and from what I could tell, no one lost any time or too much momentum.

Bike Loop 2: I had mentally prepared for the "dark" places in this race.  I had strategies lined up for how to deal with them.  Every so often I would check-in with myself and see if I needed those yet and each time, I realized that I was still in a happy space.  I started off on the second loop of the bike race and realized that while I was still happy, it was getting to be a little uncomfortable.  It was hot, windy (in all directions), and the pack had become spread out.  I was so thankful for the rest areas along the bike course.  I was able to refill my water bottle, get slathered in sunscreen, grab a banana and with volunteers moving at the speed of a NASCAR pit-crew.  One issue though was that the drop zones were too close to the end of the water station and at one point, I ended up with an extra bottle that I didn't need, but couldn't throw out for nearly 10 miles.  I made the turn around on 117 and got past the next aid station.  At that point, on the flats at the top of the hill, I witnessed one of the scariest things you could see.  A female rider just ahead of the biker directly in front of me, inexplicably fell over her back left hip and face-first on to the pavement.  The rider in front of me stopped as did two in the opposite direction.  Realizing that no one had phones, I took off at record-breaking speed to find a volunteer.  By this point I was sobbing at what I had witnessed (she was not moving when I passed).  I flagged down a volunteer and he sprinted to his car.  The rider who had been behind me caught up to me a few feet later, asked if I was okay and confirmed what I had believed to be the case, that this rider had passed out before hitting the ground.

**I have had the good fortune, thanks to social media, to be in touch with this rider.  She is doing okay after three days in the hospital.  This was her 23rd Ironman and she is past retirement age!  We spoke on the phone the day after she was released, not only about the accident and questions she had, but about Ironman.  She is already registered for IMMT 70.3 and will hopefully be given a clean bill of health to continue participating! **

As we made the turn into Saint-Jovite, I started to hurt.  My lungs and mental state were okay, but my left knee was not.  I think all of the climbing had made it really sore in addition to having taken a tumble on a city sidewalk the Monday before the race.  Whatever the case, I started to slow down...big time.  Having had to train mostly alone for this event due to my school/work schedule, I was always able to go at a pace I wanted to, without fear of being dropped.  I think that had I trained at a faster pace over long distances, I could have held it together a little better.  That said, the hills of Montee Ryan and Chemin Duplessis just about did me in.  I was so happy to hand over my bike to the volunteers and get busy running.


T2: Quest for a bathroom continues, luckily I found a few just outside of transition!

Run:  I hadn't yet reached a dark place in the race so I figured it was coming on the run.  I had a goal to run a 10:30 pace.  As the first mile clicked by at 11:45, I was worried that I was in real trouble.  Then at about Mile 2, I took a bee sting to the neck.  I hadn't been stung in 15 years until this earlier this summer, when I was stung twice in one day.  I'm glad it happened so that I didn't have to worry about being allergic in the middle of a race (thankfully I am not).  The volunteers were literally prepared for EVERYTHING.  I came running in towards the aid station saying, "bee sting" and holding my neck.  In less than 30 seconds a volunteer had some cream and a iced cloth on my neck and I barely even slowed down.  There were two aid stations with music blaring, I made sure to run-dance (shout out to my friend Natalie) through all of them.  It was a great chance to smile, shake out the arms and further enjoy the whole experience.  The first loop seemed to come and go quickly.  I had settled into a 10:56 pace.

The out and back format of this run course was wonderful for seeing friends along the way.  Each hug from Vinny, high-five from Heather, Sue, and Matt, and Jill screaming, "You're gonna do it!" made me feel more and more energized and also brought on more waterworks.  I caught up to my friends Dan and Shawn around mile 23 and remembered why I got into this sport, to help people and fight cancer.  Dan, Shawn, Jill and I all met through the American Cancer Society's DetermiNation program and vowed to do an IM together.  Though we didn't get to train together, we had all signed up on the same day a year ago and by that point in the race we knew we were all going to finish!  Amazingly at that point I had still not reached that dark place and never would.

At mile 24.5 I was becoming anxious however and I wanted to be DONE.  Almost right on cue as I came down the final hill before the finish a small young girl with bleach blond curly hair and French-Canadian accent came running along side me.  It was now dark and she asked if she could run with me for a bit.  I replied yes.  She told me I looked really good for doing an Ironman and I was moving quickly.  As we approached the water station she asked if she could get me some water.  I said no, I just wanted to be done.  She took off ahead of me to tell everyone (in French) at the water station that I didn't want water and to just cheer for me (as best I can translate from what I heard.)  She then dropped back to me and as we ran through the aid station, no one offered water, just cheered wildly.  We approached the final hill and she told me to look for the police lights, turn left and then go be an Ironman.  Yep, more waterworks.  If anyone reading this knows that young girl, please pass along my huge thank you, she made the last mile before the finish go by in a flash and was so incredibly sweet.  With that final bit of inspiration, I took off like a mad-woman towards the finish.  I slowed down only to grab a Terrible Towel from my mom to wave as I crossed the line, smiling the whole way.  I was so excited that I'm pretty sure I committed an IM faux-pas as I passed a competitor between the last timing mat and the finish line.  This lead to Mike Reilly having to re-read both  names as her name had been read when I crossed since she had hit the other mat first...oops.  I'm so sorry to that athlete, I was just so excited to be an Ironman.


Finish: Official time: 13:53.  I had hoped for under 14 hours, with 15 being my max.  I had secretly wanted to go 13:30 and I think I could have if I had held the second loop of the bike together and not lost time in T1.  But hell, it's my first one and I'm done my 24 hours of being upset over it.  The two giant servings of poutine at the finish were worth every ounce of soreness I've felt since.  After I gathered my stuff, my family and I sat on our balcony, overlooking the finish and cheered crazily for every competitor that came in, all the way until Eve, the last one.  We would see them pass, then get very quiet so we could hear Mike Reilly announce that they had made it!  A perfect end to a near perfect day.

Afterthoughts:  After getting back on my bike I'm even more hungry for the next race! Not sure I'll do a full IM next year, but plan to do one again for sure.  Huge thank you to my family for being part of this.  And there are not enough thank yous in the world to give my coach Jack Braconnier of Cadence Cycling and Multisport in Manayunk, PA.  It is something special to be coached by someone who not only helps you train physically, but mentally. Being prepared for that dark space, but keeping the experience positive, is not something I could do a few years ago.  Letting go of my defeatist attitude and taking each minute as a positive light not only made this the most enjoyable experience I could ever imagine, but helped get me through the race feeling great.

I cannot recommend this race enough.  For my first IM experience it was everything I'd hoped it would be.  I'm spending the rest of this week recovering and thinking about the next race!  At some point, I'll take off the shirt, bracelets and tatoos...I swear.

IMMT Race Report: Lead Up

As with all race reports, I apologize now for the length of this post, there is just SO much great stuff to share, that I want to make sure it's all here!  I've written in a few parts for those who may read this that are only interested in the race-day experience itself.

We arrived to MT early Friday afternoon and were able to check right into our hotel at La Place St. Bernard - Delauriers. If you do this race next year and have a reservation here, see if you can specifically get room 341 as we had a balcony that overlooked the last half mile leading down to the finish!  After checking in to the hotel, I went through my first IM athlete check-in process. I stood in line with a very nice woman from Ontario who helped calm my nerves about the back half of the bike loop(s).  As I walked from station to station, my anxiety built, finally it was time for my wristband.  As the volunteer grabbed my hand to affix the blue band, she noted how freezing cold my hands were, I told her how nervous I was.  With that, she grasped both of my hands, looked into my eyes and said, "You are going to be great!"  And cue the first of many spontaneous episodes of the waterworks.

After athlete check-in, my husband Mark and I biked the Montee Ryan for about an hour.  The hills were a little challenging, but nothing that couldn't be handled.  I went for a short run afterwards and then it was on to the Athlete Banquet.  I was so lucky that my mother, in-laws, brother-in-law, and husband were able to join me.  We ate with good friends Sue, Jill and Jill's niece Allison.  The dinner ran a little long (happens when you must say things in English and French), but had some great moments.  For instance, the worlds fastest ice carvers...not sure what it was about this, but it just seemed oh-so-Canadian.  The most interesting part was where everyone was from, how many countries were represented, what people do for a living that do these events, made it seem like such a small community, but yet so global.  My mom stayed with me through the Athlete Meeting.  Of all the sports I played growing up and all of the rules she had to learn and gear she had to purchase, triathlon was never one of those sports.  So just like she did when I was little, she sat and intently listened to better understand.  One of the most moving moments for me, was when my mom (who was a swimmer and diver growing up) said to me, "If this was around when I was your age, I'm sure I would have done this." Having not known my mom as anyone more than a seemingly non-athletic mother, this was such a cool thing to think about and that she totally understood the appeal of it.

Saturday my mom and I got up early and she accompanied my friend Heather and I to the practice swim.  The water was cold and it was very foggy out, making visibility difficult.  I was happy I was able to practice in those conditions.  And my mom, just like she did when I swam the 500 in middle school, grabbed a cup of coffee and waited.

After that we dropped our bags off and did a quick drive of the course which allowed me to see for the first time the Chemin Duplessis.  Wow.  Hills.  Steep ones.  I knew I'd have no problem on round 1, but on tired legs (I had never before bike 100 miles), I could see it being a struggle.

Dinner that night was at La Forge (highly recommended!).  I ordered, on recommendation of my friend Vinny's daughter Gabrielle, the filet tips with rigatoni and it didn't disappoint.  As my friend Jill and I sat there, trying to not let our nerves get the best of us, in walked Mike Reilly.  We were so excited and took this as a sign that tomorrow MUST be a great day.  He was nice enough to take a photo with us before enjoying his dinner.  After the application of race-day tattoos, final preparations and a nice glass of wine it was off to sleep.

An attitude of gratitude (as Roy Kardon might say)!

 This is a blog post that I've wanted to write for a while now, but with no time to sit down and commit it to paper…or…my semi-defunct blog.  Now that we are one week out from the Ironman, it needs to be written.  This is a little long, so if you were tagged in or emailed this, just go ahead and Ctrl+F for your name.

This Iron-endeavor has changed me more than I could have imagined it to.  Not in the life-changing, new-age-y sort of way, but in the “I’m a different person now than I was a few years ago and I like it,” kind of way.  Some of those changes are the things that come with age.  For instance, if you knew me in the 4^th grade when Ms. Moran dumped my desk upside down to find a homework assignment, you’d be shocked at the level of micro-organization that now I operate under. 

All of these transformations haven’t come from triathlon of course, but deciding to do an Ironman is a clear culmination of how different things are.  My husband and I jokingly call our early twenties our “lost years” and that couldn't have been more true.  To kick off my 30s, I got my Masters Degree, an amazing husband and a job that I knew would set the path for my career. Then, in 2010, I found the American Cancer Society’s DetermiNation program.  It was a way to honor my grandmother, complete a triathlon, and give my free time some purpose.  That moment started this journey and since I’m as happy as I can ever remember being; I thought it appropriate to thank some people who've helped along the way to IMMT.  

DNation.  If there is a more inspiring group of folks out there, I've never met them.  Despite personal adversity and heartache, you go on, fight for a cure and to make the world better.  Chad – Thanks for riding with me during the heat advisory and backtracking to provide a smile on my 18-mile dehydrated run through Manayunk.  Dan – Thanks for convincing me to do that first 68-point-whatever and for Velobeats…I will never be able to repay you for the discovery of that podcast.  The rest of the DNation Committee – thanks for the smiles on the trail, the joy you bring every meeting and the incredible work you do.

My training friends.  Jill –My friend, confidant, and commiserator.  You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for, most of us wouldn't still be standing, you are going to be great at IMMT!  Denise – Thank you for you always bringing a laugh, a post-it note, and an extra towel.  Your willingness to bring me a piece of tomato pie in the pouring rain is the greatest demonstration of friendship there is.  Anjana, Megan and Jim – Thank you for the weekly ass-kickings in the pool.  Emily – Thank you for the support and laughs, you’ll be great in Tahoe!  Sue- I’m not sure I’d know how to ride my bike if it weren't for you!  You've handled tough rides (in car and on bike), injuries, and all sorts of challenges with strength and a funny, realistic perspective on all of it.  I cannot tell you how excited I am to be doing my first IM with you!  Dianne – Wakey, wakey!  Thanks for being my 5am wake-up call, for the MANY laughs, the infinite bike knowledge, and the inspiration to keep pushing harder.  You are a gem and can you perhaps bring me some Pure Fare on course? Sean, Jared and Ang – I missed riding with you this summer, but thank you for everything you've taught me. Hopefully we’ll reconvene in the woods…with the hippies…and the hummus. Shawn and Dan - I can't believe it's go time! 

My work peeps. Eileen – You are my endless pillar of sanity!  John – Thanks for making my job easier, you deserve far more than you've been given.   And all of you who help out when things are completely nuts, you know who you are…and I appreciate all of you.

 

All of you who gave me books, songs, poems, and quotes for inspiration.  I've read about 75% of what you see above, hoping now that school is done for the summer, I can plow through the rest.  I also started a little book of my own to remind me of how supported I am.  So to all of you that posted on my Facebook wall, sent me a tweet, GChat message, email, or card; you’ll all be travelling to Canada with me.  The book is nearly filled and I cherish all of you.  Mike, Patrick, John, Becky, Rachel, Ellen, Katie, Sarah, Lisa, Bunky, and Alli- Your positivity is all over this thing!  And on the right is a poem I’d forgotten about that I totally love, thanks to Matt DiCarlo!

My coach.  There are people in this world that are meant to be coaches; that have the talent and patience to train, guide, and inspire others, and Jack Braconnier is such a person.  If you knew how totally neurotic some of his athletes are (self included), you’d probably add mental health counselor to this description.  Despite my weekly “stink-eyes,” I've learned more about training, pushing the limits, and the power of positive thinking, than I could have hoped for my self-deprecating, sarcastic, cynical being.  I always assumed that those people smiling during races were those with great natural ability, basking in their own awesomeness.  In reality, that happiness is available to all of us in the form of going further, faster, or just trying harder than the day before.  I started this journey thinking there was no way I could do an Olympic-distance triathlon and that an IM was absolutely impossible.  Now here I am, full of confidence knowing that I’m going to finish and enjoy every minute of it…okay, I know I’m not going to enjoy EVERY minute of it, but I know how to be tough in those times too.  So, thank you Jack!

I would be remiss if I didn't also thank Holden Comeau in this post.  First for making swim practice something to be enjoyed.  After a 14 year hiatus from competitive swimming, it was nice to hop back in the pool and be happy, not discouraged.  Secondly, for not laughing at me and actually helping me carry my 500 pound, vintage Schwinn Sprint up the stairs at Cadence.  Furthermore, for finding a way to fit it on the bike trainer, and mostly, for acting like the entire thing wasn't completely ridiculous.  Moments of kindness like that aren't forgotten.

Thank you both for all you've done and do for DNation.

My mom.  She’s finally learned the difference between the 5k, the half-marathon and a triathlon!  She ran a home for Wayward Triathletes for the Pittsburgh Tri and helped hose the mud off of us after a long ride.  I cannot wait to have her cheering for me at the finish line as she has my whole life.

My husband, Mark.  I cannot say enough about the man who pours me wine and hot baths, takes care of our little zoo, doesn't mind being left behind for hours on end, or eating alone, then cooking me dinner later, who cleans up the house, and even pretends to be interested when I talk about how many watts I hit during a 15 second sprint, or how fast my 100m splits in the pool were.  He can tolerate an incessant number of “Jack says” or “Training Peaks says” knowing that is usually followed by another reason we can’t do something the way we had originally planned it.  He’s tolerated me getting up at 5am in the morning, including at our friends’ wedding in New Hampshire, only to have to get out of bed a few hours later himself to come fetch me after I took a wrong turn.  I am thankful and lucky every day to be married to such a wonderful and loving person.

Finally, to everyone I've been out of touch with.  To all of you whom I owe phone calls, letters, wedding presents, shower gifts and visits. I promise when this is over, we’ll be back in touch.   

This list surely isn't exhaustive, many of you reading this have helped in ways you know and ways you probably don’t.  I hope to revive this blog so be sure to check back for the IMMT race report!  You can track the insanity as well on IronmanLive.com.  I'm number 398.

Shamrock Marathon Race Report

A little late (like everything) on my Shamrock Race Report...but here it is.

Some background:
Last year my friend Jill and I PR'd big at the Shamrock Half-Marathon in Virginia Beach and before the dust had settled, we'd registered for the full 26.2 for 2013.  Additionally, we'd convinced many friends to do the same, including my hockey/triathlete friend Sue.  It seemed like a great idea until January when we started to doubt our decision and began discussing switching to the half distance.  Instead, we forged on with the long runs and suddenly it was March.  Sadly, Sue suffered a hip injury and Jill's sister began to lose her battle with cancer, meaning my closest commiserates weren't going to be there suffering alongside.  Sue was still able to make the trip and thankfully drove us there, or more importantly, was able to drive us back!  Before we left though, I had a conversation with my tri-coach, Jack about the Race Plan.

The Plan:
Jack's Plan for this marathon was to achieve the original goal Jill and I had set for ourselves (in March 2012) of a 4 hour marathon.  Jill and I, in one of our long training runs, had completely abandoned this idea, in favor of a more reasonable 4:30-ish.  We forgot, however, to pass this info along.

The gist of the Plan was to run around a 9:25 for a while and then begin to negative split the back half of the race.  Yes, negative split a marathon.  As I would say to Jill later on that day, "Well...I think Coach Puppies and Rainbows is back on his Unicorn."  (So sorry, Jack!)

As we drove to VA Beach I tried to figure out what my plan was really going to be: 1) Listen to my coach, (who by the way, is a professional that I've willingly signed up for coaching with) and stick to the Plan, 2) Just go out there to "have fun" and "see how it feels" or 3) Decide to change my plan to run 10:10s so that I could get my 4:30, which would be a PR.  (My previous PR for a marathon was 4:42).  I knew a decision had to be made soon so that I could mentally prepare and so shortly before dinner I decided I would go for it.

Race Day:
I woke up on race day ready.  I was really going to do this, I was going to stop setting the bar low and set it high.  As you know from previous blogs, I really love setting expectations below ground level and then being "shocked" at the far better result.  I liken it to Steve Urkle's uber-sarcastic, "Did I do that?"

axiomamnesia.com

Sue and I arrived at the start line and much to my surprise, given the 70 degree temps the day before, it was freezing.  And the wind...the wind!  With winds gusting over 20 mph, the flags along the finish didn't look like they could hold up.  This photo does it little justice, but you get the idea.

interactives.wavy.com 

Regardless of my now slightly damaged mental state over the weather, I got in my corral and the gun went off.  Miles 1- 5 were shielded from the wind and I was running right around my goal pace for the first half, 9:20.  Miles 6-16 brought the winds.  Sue met me on the boardwalk around Mile 10 where the winds were  the worst (I was running the opposite direction of the people in the photo above).  She was nice enough to be ready with kleenex, chapstick, and encouragement, "It should be better once you turn off the boardwalk! Just 200 yards ahead!"  Sadly, as is often the case with Sue and winds, it wasn't much better.  By the time I reached Mile 15, I had slowed to a 9:28 pace.  And then finally, it happened, the wind was gone!  I took off, I felt great, mentally I started to really believe I could do this.  Miles 16-20 were an average of 9:16, Mile 17 a 9:08.  At Mile 20 I made the turn around the horn of Fort Story and the Plan was destroyed.  My euphoria of being out of the wind was taken away...by more wind.  I came to a dead stop (by the way, this is the worst thing you can do in a marathon).  I was so sad, I wanted to sit down and just start crying.  You could hear the other runners moan and groan when that wave of air hit them, many coming to a stop as I did, completely defeated.  

However, when you come to a dead stop in front of a group of Marines cheering YOU on, you don't stop for long.  If these folks could risk life and limb for our country, pretty sure I could jog another 6 miles through  a little breeze.  Mile 20 a 9:38, Mile 21 a 9:43, Mile 22 a 10:03.  Wheels...falling...off.  Mile 23 brought the greatest relief, the tailwind!  Hooray!  Finally!!  Can't say I was flying, but I was moving, I managed to average a 9:39 those last few miles, finishing with a time of 4:11...a 31 minute PR.  

Of course I was disappointed, but who can complain about a 31 minute PR?  Especially in those conditions. In the end, the conditions weren't the issue, just an excuse.  The real problem was that I waited until the day before the race to believe in myself.  Had I believed all along, I probably would have trained at a faster pace, not letting the fear of not finishing dictate my long runs.  I would have pushed just a little faster on the speed-work, believing I wouldn't fly off of the treadmill.  And most importantly, I wouldn't have abandoned my goal when things weren't going perfectly and the conditions weren't right.

In the end, this is the race I'm most proud of, not only the way I ran, but the way I'm slowly working on changing my attitude.  Being the over-under-achiever isn't fun anymore.  I started this sort of self-reflection and development last year mostly through racing triathlon and it's an on-going transition.  Recently my women's ice hockey team went to the Over-30 National Tournament in Tampa, Florida and finished 3rd.  Having the expectation of taking first was a hard adjustment, but it forced me to hold myself to a higher standard.  And of course the disappointment of taking 3rd burned a little, okay, a lot.  I realized however, the challenge of the unknown is fun.  I'm sure there is some inspirational quote splashed all over Facebook about this, but when you set the bar low, you already know the outcome, and really, why bother trying at that point?

Broad Street Run is coming up this weekend and for the first time, when I got my Race Plan from Jack, I didn't write back some sarcastic comment or make up an excuse. I simply wrote "Sounds good."  

2013 Race Schedule

So yet again, I've let this blog slide into oblivion.  More on that in a later post.

As I've written before, I'm a big believer in resolutions, goals, objectives, ambitions, dreams, etc. and particularly in writing them down on paper, by hand, in permanent ink.  I take all opportunities to write and re-write my goals.  For some reason I didn't do this for 2013.  For the first time that I can remember, I didn't finish writing my New Years Resolutions, February 10th came and went with no resolutions for the Chinese New Year, and here it is mid-March...figure out my goals by May 12 (my birthday) or should I just wait until Rosh Hashanah?!?  (Before a debate is spurred over my apparent ignorance of cultural and religious holidays and appropriate celebration, I write resolutions each year on these dates because anything that has New Year associated with it excites me as a new beginning and honestly, re-writing my goals every hour/day/week would be a little tedious.)

So while my life resolutions are still not written, and may not be for 2013, I must at least get in internet print (same as ink, right) my 2013 goals and racing schedule.  One reason I think I haven't done this activity yet is because I have only one athletic goal this year, only one "A" race, and that is Ironman Mt. Tremblant (IMMT).  Of course, many smaller races will lead up to this event and every event needs one of those measurable goals.


And here it is so far:

March:

• 17th, Shamrock Marathon, VA Beach.  Goal: 4 hours

April: 

• 25th-28th, USA Hockey 30+ National Championships, Tampa FL. Goal: National Champions

May: 

• 5th, Broad Street Run 10 Miler, Philadelphia PA. Goal: Sub 90 min
• 12th (my birthday!), Race for the Cure 5k, Pittsburgh PA. Goal: sub 25 min
• 18th, American Zofingen, New Paltz NY. Goal: Finish Middle-Distance

June: 

• 23rd, Philadelphia Olympic Triathlon, Philadelphia PA. Goal: 2:50 or Top 30% of AG

July: 

• 20th, MidNight Loop 8.4 miles, Philadelphia PA. Goal: 1:15
• 28th, Pittsburgh Olympic Triathlon, Pittsburgh PA. Goal: 2:45 or Top 30% of AG

August: 

• 18th, IM Mt. Tremblant, Mt. Tremblant, Quebec Canada.  Goal: Sub 14 hour

September: 

• 8th, NJ Gran Fondo, Morristown NJ. Goal: Sub 14 min on each hill
• 15th, Atlantic City International Distance Triathlon, AC NJ. Goal: 2:25