Nautica Malibu

In his own version of the midlife crisis, my brother decided he wanted to jump on the triathlon bandwagon, and asked me if I had any interest in doing the Nautica Malibu triathlon with him. The idea immersed in May. I said sure and sent him all kinds of tips for training. I spoke with him periodically throughout the summer and the key thing I was trying to drill into his head was how important practicing in the open water would be. But you know what they say about leading a horse to water...you can't make them swim in it.

Despite the fact that I've officially retired from TNT, I managed to train somewhat regularly over the summer. I even did a great swim in Aquatic Park the week before the race with Rebecca and Nate. It was during the 4-day heat wave we had in early September known as "summer" and actually quite nice conditions for Aquatic Park. But I digress.

The Nautica Malibu triathlon now ranks as one of my favorite tri's to date. While each race that I've done has it's positives and negatives, Malibu is really quite approachable, like the Merlot of triathlons. I flew down Thursday night, Andy I went to register on Friday. Pretty good shwag, including female-specific race shirts which in my book, already makes the race a winner. The San Francisco crew, starring Rebecca, Nate, Geoff, Tiffiny and Shaun were all driving down and arriving later on Friday. Most of us didn't meet up until we found each other in the transition area Saturday morning.

Historically, the race has been a celebrity triathlon offering a sprint distance only. The race directors must have looked at their financial spreadsheet and realized how much money they could make if they extended the race and added an olympic distance. Sure enough, they got 1,000 people to sign up for the Oly on Saturday and another 2,000 for the sprint (including J LO, Matthew McConaughey and Andy Baldwin) on Sunday.

The swim was probably the most challenging part of the race; the first leg was through the breakers, totally new for me and not so easy getting pounded by waves during that first stretch in the water. Getting to that first buoy felt like it took forever, but once out there, it was a straight line to the 6th buoy, turn, and then body surfing into the finish. I came out of the water at 30 minutes, but the walk through the sand to the timing chip sensors put me at 31 minutes.

The bike was an out-and-back, all along a gorgeous stretch of the PCH. There were a couple of rollers but mostly flat and the race organizers managed to get one lane of traffic closed to cars. On the way back, we rode past miles of cars backed up waiting for the intersections to open up. I must confess, it brought me some happiness (the fleeting base kind) to see all the fancy Malibu cars and their self-absorbed drivers (with yappy dogs wearing clothing) standing there looking ticked off. I saw Andy on the bike and was happy to see that he had made it through the swim. Time on bike: 1:30

The run was also along the PCH and completely flat. The ocean was in site the whole time and during one stretch, I saw dolphins swimming in the water right offshore. When I saw Andy on the run and told him the end was in sight, he responded "I f'ing hate this" which made me laugh. I don't know of any triathlete who thinks the run is a fun experience. At mile 4, I looked at my watch and realized that if I pushed myself, I was within reach of getting a sub-3-hour overall time. I picked up my speed a bit, but unfortunately, my knees were not on board with the plan and I had to slow down to my standard sluggish triathlon run pace. Still, I finished with my best run time at 1 hour and overall time, 3:09.

My brother rolled in about a half hour later and as we congratulated him, the confession came out: he swam about 1/3 of the swim then come to shore. He then snuck into the transition area and got on his bike, then he did the run. He actually had a better time on the bike than me (by 3.5 minutes), which we later calculated about 1 minute of that could be attributed to the better bike and the rest was just sheer determination to beat his little sis. Still, ya gotta love the father/child finish, which I captured on video as Abby ran out to meet him on the finish chute.

Sunday's celebrity race made headlines all across the rags and it was interesting to see the special treatment the stars got. J Lo had an entourage escort her from the swim to the bike and Matthew had a chair setup for him in the transition area. But the stars did something that the rest of us couldn't; they raised a couple hundred thousand dollars for the Children's Hospital. For that, I will grant them leeway.

Not sure what's next on the triathlon circuit. Marin is coming up in October...

King's Trail

Maui, I've learned, is the elitist faction of TNT, it's where the "it" people go to race. How I've only just discovered this goes to show how not "it" I am. I would put this race in the category of well-kept-secrets. Why it took me so long to sign up is beyond me...

June 8, race day. Still on Cally time, the 4:15am alarm wasn't the abrasive, jolting annoyance that it could have been. I hopped out of bed, greeted my roomate with a big it's-race-day! smile, and took care of a few last-minute logistics. Warm weather triathlons are easy to prepare for. No layers, no wetsuit, I didn't even need a towel. It all fit nicely in my backpack and we headed downstairs (again, not even a jacket needed at 5am) to meet up with the rest of the team. Good spirits abounded, the general mood of the group was: yes, we're doing this thing they call a "triathlon", but really? Must it harsh our Maui mellow?

We rode as a group over to start location at the Maui Prince hotel, about 3.5 miles. Set up the transition area, ate a banana or three, waited in line for a last trip to the loo, and then headed to the beach to check out the swim course. What, during our practice swim the day before, had appeared as a glassy smooth inlet of water, was now choppy with a smallish swell, I'd say around 2 feet to my uneducated oceanic eye. It was then that I got a little case of the jitters. What was I thinking, having such a cavalier attitude about this race? Since I did Big Kahuna, I have this notion that olympic distance races are, well, just a long workout. But throw a little 90 degree heat and a tough course into the mix and I found myself having to make an attitude adjustment.

Before the race started, we received the blessing from the Hawaian Witch Lady, who made us all (375 of us) link arms into this massive spandex group hug, and she led us in a prayer. While I had wax in my ears (a metaphor for how I feel about the Wicca or a preparation for the swim? you decide), I did manage to catch the jist of her message. She told us that when we were in the ocean, we should drink the blood of Mother Earth (which many of us, indeed did), that on the run we should smell the bones of Mother Earth (or was it just the patchouli from the locals), and on the bike we should feel God's touch from the sun. And then we sang the Star Spangled Banner. Go figure. Yes, the Witch Lady was a little esoteric, but I like that kind of stuff. I like being reminded that there's a bigger picture and of how very lucky I am.

At this juncture, the race began and we went off in heats 3 minutes apart. I started at around 7:30 (it's Maui, timekeeping is not a science). The swim was a bit dodgy. I put my breathing-on-both-sides skills to good use, this was the only way to escape getting splashed each time I came up for a breath. Other people were getting mouthfuls of water, which in turn was leading to mass vomiting (which in turn, led to more fish in the water). After I passed the fifth and final buoy, cruising full speed level four to the finish, I happened to notice a shadow looming underneath me in the water. And that was the happy moment of the triathlon, when I saw the turtle. I don't know why, but these creatures are just so clumsy and jovial, they make me laugh.

Swim time: 32 minutes. While certainly not anywhere near my better swim times, given the conditions, I was satisfied.

The King's Trail bike course wins the title of lamest bike courses ever. I felt like I was riding a course that had been designed by a stoner with ADD. It was up, down, up, down, stop, up, down, stop, turn, stop, turn, down, stop. It just made no sense. You couldn't get any speed and I ended up with an embarrassing time of 1:50, inflamed knees, and quads that were totally spent by the time I got on the run.

But run I did. It is now that I would like to give a shout out to my running inspiration, Ben, who sent me a text the night before the race and told me to really go for it and run the whole run. He knows that I have a weakness for stopping to walk, that I am not a runner at heart. His words stuck with me and it really amazed me how much of it was mental. I wanted to stop and walk during this run like I've never wanted to stop before. My knees were killing me, it was hotter than a whore in church, and my legs basically felt like cinder blocks. Fortunately, the water stops had freezing cold sponges which pretty much saved us, I'm guessing the same stoner who planned out the run course was also the mastermind behind this. But in exchange for a little cooling action, we ended up with soaking wet shoes; every step I took went: squish, squash, squish, squash.

Run time: 1:05.

Crossing the finish line was an awesome moment. I fell happily into the arms of my sweaty and repugnant (no offense guys) teammates where we proceeded to re-live every gruesome moment of the race. Just like always. Then I went and grabbed my phone and called my cohorts in San Francisco who had raced Alcatraz to get their race reports. Everyone had a great race; the main difference was that we got to go back to a hotel and lounge by the pool with Pina Coladas for the rest of the day. :)
The most amazing factoid of the race is that I somehow managed to rank 10th in my age group, out of 32. Now, while I do plan to get as much mileage out of this as possible, I really shouldn't let it go to my head. My overall time was not that great: 3:37, and I basically chalk it up to the fact that the race was predominantly TNT people who maybe, like me, were more interested in a Maui vacation than in excelling in a triathlon. Still, a very gratifying experience overall to be a part of the TNT Mai Tai division.

Bare Asses: A Sign That All is Right in the World or Armageddon?

I posted this video on flickr. A day later, I received the following email:
"As per our Community Guidelines, “restricted” video
content is not allowed on Flickr . We’ve removed your
video.

If you continue to upload videos that contain
“restricted” content, we may take further action on
your account.

Regards,

Flickr Customer Care"

The whole time I was at Wildflower, I was pre-occupied with whether the streakers would do their thing. As the sun began to set on Saturday night, I grew worried, unsettled, discontent. No streakers at Wildflower, I just couldn't fathom the possibility. But they came and they were glorious. And now, I'm meant to feel shame for wanting to share the laughter they invoked in me with others. Flickr, I would just like to remind you that there is FAR more offensive content on your photo sharing site than the tushies and boobies of some drunk CalPoly students flapping in the dusk.

The Flame

Ah training weekend. Good times. Lots of laughs. Grubby athletes. Cold showers. Missions accomplished.

I thought my flame for the bike was dying. Turns out, it was just a bit buried. For no other reason other than the fact that it was there, I decided to do the long course bike ride. I honestly wasn't convinced I had any business being out there; it's been awhile since I've stretched myself athletically.

I had contingency plans in my mind that I re-evaluated every 10 miles or so. There was wind on Jolon Rd, which is a narrow highway with no shoulder for bikes. I thought I'd bonk because I typically go into a state of paralysis when riding on roads with fast traffic, white trash in pickups and wind. Call me crazy but I don't like to take my hands off the handlebars and subsequently, don't consume calories or fluids. Jolon goes on for about 13 miles and was by far the hardest and loneliest stretch. Towards the end, I started talking to myself, but promptly stopped after swallowing a bug

The next challenge was the infamous Nasty Grade, which was blazing in the heat of the afternoon. It was nasty. But I got to the top and with wobbly legs, continued onwards with the end in site.

I felt such a great feeling of satisfaction after the ride. I had done something I wasn't sure I could do and I kept a positive attitude the entire time. I knew I had contingency plans, I could stop at any time, but I was really enjoying myself...that's what happens when I focus on things that make me enjoy the experience.

My favorite quote from this weekend was courtesy of my friend Chris who said, "this race is a whole lot more enjoyable when you stop trying to compete with it."

And that's the only way to do Wildflower because there are relentless obstacles...the weather, the course itself, mechanical failures, etc. So just get out there and enjoy the experience for whatever it is in that moment. And so I did. It was such an incredible beautiful ride. Fields and fields of wildflowers in all colors and varieties. Perfect biking weather. And a nice cold Guinness waiting for me at the end. Ok, 2.

Chance of Sun

Today was one of those days where I almost didn't go to the workout...too much going on in life and the idea of hibernating sounded extremely attractive. But I went. And it was fun. And on the ride home, I snapped this shot on the Golden Gate Bridge. My soul was filled with gratitude over living in such a wonderful place. A place where when the forecast calls for a chance of rain, what they're not saying is that there's also a chance of sun.

Flipping

It's kinda nice when we get a Sunday off from training. Today, Mother Nature is to thank, the big storm moved in with high winds rendering us unsafe to bike. Instead, I met up with a few of my teammates* at Koret for a swim at the much more reasonable hour of 9:30. With my grandparents in town this weekend, I've been working more on my endurance eating and drinking, so I was grateful to get in a good night's sleep after a great meal at Bar Bambino. And then grateful to have good friends who motivated me to get to the pool.
*A few teammates

I decided that I was going to learn how to do flip turns this year. With the guidance of a swimming buddy (and the internet), I'm making progress. I can actually do the turn without losing my breath. And while I don't have the objectivity, I think my form is getting better. It's amazing how much faster I am in the pool; I know it won't change anything during a race itself, but I do feel like my swimming is getting stronger overall.

As alluded to earlier, I've had out of town guests the last two weekends which has interfered somewhat in my training (mostly due to increased alcohol consumption). In a weird way, this is actually leading to improved results. My theory is that I'm more relaxed about training this year. I'm not doing any races that I haven't already done and therefor, I don't have the fear of god in me. Subsequently, I train when I can and when I'm there, I'm there 100%. I'm also not sweating it (literally) when something else comes up and I miss a workout. After all, life is short and there's a lot of life to live outside the pool, off the bike, and away from the track. This approach suits me well. Living life outside the pool, bike and track.

IronYman

This is my Timex, "Ironman" watch. It's a couple of years old. It's water resistant to 100 meters. I have never gone below 100 meters during any of the athletic events with which I've worn it.

After Wildflower, there were some beads of perspiration on the inside of the window and the digital numbers were jaded. I waited a few days, then the days turned into weeks. This is my watch, almost two months later. Ironman? Takes a licken' and keeps on ticken'? Well, yes, it is still ticking. I think. It would appear that the seconds are still rolling and the date changes over every 24 hours. Bravo, Timex. You have really done a bang-up job on your performance watches.

I have some suggestions for new names:

ContraryMan: Contrary to popular belief, I don't care what time it is.

If-I-Only-Had-A-Heartrate-Man: Maybe I'm in my target. Maybe not. Only the Gods know for sure. And I'm ok with that. I guess.

EuphamismMan: As in, I'm going to do an ironman, and by ironman, I mean I'm really going to sit on my couch and watch tv. Is it time for Friends yet? Shit, I can't tell.

HopefulMan: As in, I hope the beads go away and I hope I can complete this endurance event. Gosh, it sure would be nice.

IronyMan: Ah, I am accustomed to the bitter taste of doubt, sarcasm and contradiction. And that's exactly what I look for in a triathlon watch.

The Great Escape

3am: wide awake and not the least bit disoriented. Got the coffee going, toast toasting, tea brewing, and whatever other appliances seemed to make me feel like a functional human being in the middle of the night. With everything clicking away in the background, I took 5 minutes to sit and meditate, just a gentle reminder to stay calm and confident.

As he's in the running for Boyfriend of the Year, Brian volunteered to drive me down to the transition area, then he hung out from 4-7am waiting for the race to start. My heart still swells when I think about that. Escaping From Alcatraz is so much more desirable when you have someone to drop you off and give you a good luck kiss.

Anyway, back to the story at hand: the race.

Set up my transition quickly and then found my team gathering by the buses. Everyone was nervous and excited at the same time. We climbed onto the bus, amidst a layer of quiet chatter, most people listening to an ipod or just gazing into space. I was amazed at how long it seemed to take us to get to the pier, maybe because I associate bus rides with extended travel, but it felt like it took forever. But alas, we finally arrived, got bodymarked (by far, the best part of any triathlon) and took one last trip to the port-a-potty. Then we sat around chatting and trying to stay warm as the sun came up and they called us onto the boat.

The San Francisco Belle was a warm and cozy vessel and she took her sweet old time getting out to Alcatraz while us athletes made our last minute adjustments, getting suited up, earplugs in, jumping-jacks and whatever else we needed to do to get our shit together.

Once the race starts, it's pretty much a free for all. There are waves, but no one really pays attention to them. You make your way onto the deck and the officials yell at you, "JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!" until you just jump off. It's such a cool feeling to be one of the penguins, to not think and just do. To know that this is the last I'd be cursed with wondering, "What's this going to be like." I was desperate to just go already. I couldn't wait another second and jumped off the boat about a minute before my assigned start time.

Doing the swim on this particular day; however, was like winning the lottery. It was completely painless. It was a joy. Exhilarating. Before I knew it (37 minutes to be exact), it was over and I was climbing onto the beach to a huge crowd of cheering onlookers. The ease of the swim relative to what I was expecting set the tone for the rest of the race and the bike and run felt almost effortless. Easy to say that now that they're over, but looking back, I don't remember any moments of severe agony. There were so many people cheering, so many of my friends who came out to watch, plus my family who traveled from far and away to check out crazy-Pam-and-her-triathlon, it was basically a huge lovefest.

While the run had the potential to be brutal, it felt like a big party to me. My friends (shout out: Brian, Alana, Sarah, Steve) had formed a roaming clan and were traveling by bike to different parts of the course where they cheered like maniacs every time I showed up. On top of that, there was the lone drummer with his drum set on Chrissy Field, all of the other TNT folks who came out to watch, and the Challenged Athletes to keep me inspired.

Don't get me wrong, Escape From Alcatraz is a tough course. I know this because I could barely walk yesterday. I had some doubts as to whether I was physically ready for it, but I knew somewhere deep inside that no matter what, I'd slog it out. I was always more worried about the mental aspect; would I savor the experience or would I leave feeling beat up and worn down (a.k.a. Wildflower 2007 & 2006).

I walk (hobble) away from Escape feeling that it has made me a much stronger person. I remember several times over the course of the last few months where I seriously thought I'd give up, that it just wasn't worth it. That the fun was gone. While that was true at points along the way, I am deeply grateful for whatever stubbornness (and that's a lot)I have in my make-up that kept me going. Escaping made me remember what I enjoy about triathlon: it's the parallels to the mental challenges faced in everyday life, it's about bringing people together, and it's about not backing down in the face of something that you're not quite sure you can pull off. My motto going forward is: how do you know if you don't try? I mean tri?

Escape

For those tracking my race remotely, my BIB # is 1101. You can sign up to get updates sent to you via text or email.

Some highlights so far:
Water temperature is 57 degrees, this is the warmest it's been so far this season. They are predicting a relatively easy swim with excellent timing for the currents.

Air temperature today is a chilly 52 degrees, the high tomorrow should be a little warmer at 63, but it is quite overcast. Sunrise will be at 5:49am.

My alarm is set to go off at 3:00am.

I saw The Bachelor Andy Baldwin and Tessa down at the athlete's registration/pre-race meeting. I have to say, those are two extremely attractive people. They could not have been more friendly, despite the fact that he was being approached left and right by people asking for pictures.




The youngest person doing the race is 12.

There are 2000 people signed up.

Accenture has never lost a swimmer.

I overheard a woman talking to these two guys, she was from out of town and hadn't stepped foot on one inch of the course. She was D.S.A. (desperately seeking advice) about what to expect on the swim. The guys were like, "Oh, you'll be fine. It's a shock at first, but you'll do great." I was thinking to myself: Now THAT takes a lot of you know whats...I couldn't imagine jumping off the boat with no experience.

And that, my friends, brings us to the end of the pre-Alcatraz portion of my blog. What will she write about next, you all must be wondering. Don't worry, I'll think of something good.

The Last (Half) Mile

Having just completed Pedro's "The Last Mile" swim, I can safely say: Holy Shit, Man! 100 of us pre-Escapees decided that it'd be a good idea to sign up for this clinic, what is actually only 1/2 mile but when you're swimming against the 3 knot current, it feels a lot like a mile or more.
I did it more for the mental prep than the physical, hoping I'd get a few nuggets of inspiration to keep me going until Sunday. I got my $15 bucks worth when one of the
coaches said something that really rang true for me: the time between now and when you jump off the boat is far worse then the actual experience of the race.

The conditions tonight were pretty bad, swimming against the current is not fun and it was cold and gray; the kind of weather where normal people go down to the pub and gather for a beer. I was cruising along swiftly for about 15 minutes, savoring the aromas from the yacht club's kitchen and feeling content. And then, as I approached the big yellow buoy that I was siting off of, which I originally thought marked the completion, only to realize was not the finish, that's when I started to break-down.

I stopped to look around but even a few moments of stillness meant the current was carrying me backwards. I kept going, trying to get a glimpse above the swells of where the end was. I thought I saw it and it looked so close, but every inch forward was like watching an ant crawl across the moon. And that's when I noticed the switch, the positive thoughts turned negative. The black cloud formed over my head, and in a word, everything sucked.

It eventually ended and I made it to shore (I hope that is obvious), but I felt drained and uninspired. Maybe it was bound to happen, I've felt so cool and collected about this race over the past couple of weeks and then last night I turned into the lowest form of triathlete: the whiner. But maybe it's just been a long season and I'm ready to move onto something else. It's summer and I want to get to the mountains, I want to learn to swing dance, I want to drink heavily.

Which brings us to the final details at hand, the actual race! Those who are not in the beautiful city of San Francisco can track my race online, click here to find out how.

Despite the trials and tribulations of this season, I've had a great time, mostly because I train with great people who keep me smiling. Some random photos:

Our last team workout, a run down at Chrissy Field. We had a great time letting all the nervous energy out and feeling the group love. That's me in the green cap.

Practicing in the sand.













Matthes will be a little less hostile when I'm home more in the evenings.

The Lion's Looking Back At You

I can't believe how quickly the days are going by. With each passing day, the excitement builds just a little more. We had our final brick workout yesterday, a 1.5 mile swim followed by a 4 mile run on Treasure Island. It was a typical San Francisco summer day, the Bay covered by a layer of wet fog, but not bad conditions for racing. I'd choose fog over wind any day.

Yesterday's workout was a final chance to test some last-minute supplements for my race.
Test #1: Operation Satellite. The first thing I tried was using Brian's Garmin Forerunner GPS, as I'd really like to go back and look at my exact swim course after the whole thing is over. Since the device won't pick up a signal when under-water, I can't wear it on my wrist. Instead, I wrapped it in a zip-loc bag and put in inside my squid lid. Result: Success. I just have to remember not to let it drop on the beach when I take my squid lid off.

Test #2: Operation core warmer. One of the things I'm a bit worried about is warming up after the swim. While the body does adapt to the cold-water conditions over time, it takes a lot of energy and calories to stay warm. Not only am I physically drained after swimming in the bay, but my fingers and toes are completely numb. It takes a long, hot shower to thaw them out, a luxury I won't be provided on race day, so I'm trying to come up with effective ways to ensure that I can keep my core warm as I transition onto the bike. Adrenaline will play a big role, as will continual movement. But I want to have something that really makes me feel noticeably warm, this is where my Sport's Tea comes into play. Since I haven't owned a thermos since grade school, I went out and bought one; yesterday was it's debut and it performed beautifully. I must say, that hot tea was a wonderful treat after the swim. Not only did it remove the saltwater taste from my mouth, but I could feel it heating up my insides. A shot of whiskey might do the trick as well.

Test #3: Operation Bay Beard. I tried--unsuccessfully--to find a picture of this so you could all see a visual of the phenomena known as "Bay Beard". The Bay is filled with all kinds of micro-organisms, seaweed, and other forms of crud that stick to your skin. When you emerge from the water, it is quite common to have what looks like 5 o'clock shadow, but is really some unspeakable form of refuse from the water. If swimming in the water alone isn't enough to make you want to hurl, Bay Beard can quite possibly be the thing that pushes you over the edge. While I can't control Bay Beard from happening, I can be prepared to remove it quickly. I am bringing a wet wash cloth to wipe my face with at the transition. I experimented with soaking the wash cloth in boiling water and wrapping it in insulating material, but this didn't work, it was cold by the time I used it. I just want, for a few glorious moments, something that make me feel like I've bathed. Even if it adds another minute or two onto my transition time, I'd rather have the salt-water wiped off my skin before I go onto the bike than not. This one little act will make me feel like I am back to being the mammal that I am.

All other systems go as we move onto the final countdown. I'll be tapering this week and just focusing on getting lots of rest, organizing all of my gear, and mentally preparing myself for race day. If I had to choose one word to summarize how I feel, it'd be "amped". There are moments when this takes the form of terror, other times when it's excitement. To say the least, it's going to be a day unlike any I've ever experienced. And the unknown doesn't always turn out to be a bad thing, right? Why the hell are we so scared of it? I'm going to wake up (at 3:30am, ahem) on June 3, look in the mirror, and see the lion. I hope the roar doesn't wake up my neighbors.

Countdown

2 weeks to go, tick-tock, tick-tock. I learned that the transition area opens at 4am. Does the torture of this race never end?

We are at the peek of our workouts and will maintain this level for another week before we start to taper. Yesterday's training included an intense run/bike/run brick in the beautiful Marin Headlands.





To simulate race conditions, we went for a jog on the beach (there's a .5 mile run from the swim to the bike transition), then hopped aboard our stallions to conquer 4 Marin Headlands loops.

This is a tough ride to hate...it reminded me (4 times) of how breathtaking the area in which I live is. By the fourth loop, my legs were getting a little tired, but I started out on the run feeling pretty good.


The Miwok and Bobcat trails were new to me, and I didn't know that it would start to go uphill at mile 1. I also did not know that it would keep going uphill, and that uphill would get steeper and steeper for 2 miles. I asked one of my teammates if they knew where the turn around point was. She replied: do you see those towers off in the distance? Yes, I saw the towers. They were on top of a mountain that was off in the distance. I was pretty sure our coach was trying to kill us.

My run performance was anything but impressive, but I completed the whole thing and knew that it was about the level of difficulty as I'll find on race day. It all adds up to building confidence and I can truly say that I feel very well prepared for Escape.

So what's on the agenda for the next 2 weeks? Consistent training, a couple more open-water swims, lots of rest (I even skipped Bay to Breakers, which I'm a little sad about), and eating right. I was originally flirting with the idea of giving up coffee, but clearly that's not going to happen. Brian is now roasting his own beans, so this is one sacrifice I'm not willing to make for some stupid race. And let's be honest, caffeine or no, I'm not going to win!

Cold Feet

Both literally and figuratively.

At the wee hour of 7am Saturday morning, 12 of us climbed aboard "The Dauntless" and motored out to Alcatraz, led by our half-fish-half-human beloved Coach Pedro. Pedro has a list of credentials that makes me wonder if he's fit to teach, including being one of the only people to live through swimming the Straights of Magellan, over 400 Alcatraz crossings (493 to be exact), The Beagle Channel between Chili and Argentina (water temp is 39 degrees), and he is currently training to swim the Bering Straight. When you complain about how cold or choppy the water is, this man just looks at you as if you are speaking another language. It's like you've insulted his home.

All of us on board are training to do an Alcatraz crossing and we know that every morsel of information will help make our chances of success more likely. I suspected going into the clinic that the swim will probably be the toughest part of the triathlon for me; now, I know that for sure. But it also has the potential to be the most exciting. Either way, I feel lucky to have someone like Pedro to show me the ropes, I can't imagine doing this swim without a dry (no pun intended) run.

After a briefing on swim strategy, which included some mental strategy plus technical tips like what to site off of, breathing on both sides, etc., we jumped off the boat and did a "warm-up" swim off of the East side of the rock, where the water is a bit calmer. I expected the jump to be harder then it was, the water was cold but I was able to adjust quite easily and was swimming normal strokes within a minute. That's about where the pleasant surprises ended.

It was a rough day out there. The wind was howling and the sea was choppy. When we jumped off the boat for our second swim, which was the actual start location of the race, it was like trying to swim around inside of a washing machine. Every time I lifted my head to breathe, I got a mouth full of sea-water. I know sea salt is a culinary delight, but I may never eat it again after this is all over.

On top of that, my goggles were leaking so I pretty much felt like I could barely see and I could barely breathe. That's when the panic set in. I took a good look around me (big mistake) and what I saw in every direction was a lot of nothing. I was bobbing out there in the middle of the bay, nothing to hold onto, and the final destination seemingly beyond reach. If you've never experienced this before, it is a freaky feeling. What you do with that feeling is the choice you face when you take on any challenge that goes outside of your comfort realm. While I know that I'm physically capable of swimming the distance, I am well aware that how I control my mind is what will make or break me.

Speaking with people who have done the swim before offers little reassurance. They usually say, "It's very hard, but you can do it." The coaches during the clinic gave us some mantras, which I plan to use:
~No matter what, I can swim and I can breathe.
~Focus on what's going on inside me, don't obsess over the conditions.
~Just keep swimming.
~And since it's Mother's Day, this one is from my mom: Don't get attached to any of your thoughts. Just observe them.

This final pictures shows some of us standing on the beach that marks the end of the swim (I'm pretty sure I was pee-ing as the photo was being taken). I cannot wait until the next time I stand on this beach! I fully expect this race to be both terrifying and exhilarating. Who's planning to come watch? June 3 is three short weeks away! And a more important question, who will have the champagne ready at the finish line?

Dear Wildflower

Dear Wildflower,
We've had some good times, you and I. I remember how things were in the beginning. You used to make me feel good about myself. You were so much more forgiving, more gentle, more tender.

After our first year, I could look towards the future and see you in it. Then, at year two, we had some rough times, but I thought I was strong enough to overcome the thorny patches. I came back--willingly--for more. But, my little poppy, I cannot come back anymore. When I look at you now, I only see defeat. I see your beauty and respect your power, but while your flowers once smelled like intoxicating nectar, now I only smell the bitter stench of wilting petals.

I came to you this weekend, wanting to give you my all. But you scorned me with 95 degree heat, with choppy water in your otherwise still lake, and with howling winds. I wanted to get inside of you, wildflower, but you wouldn't let me in.

Maybe I'm fickle, just like you. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. But Wildflower, you have stripped me of my pride. I need to walk away before I am barren of all sense of dignity. I'm sure you'll have others...far greater than me...and I hope they are strong enough to live up to your expectations.

Wildflower, I say good bye.

Little Wildflowers

Looks like the weather is going to be knocking on perfect's door, the forecast for Saturday has a high of 72 and Sunday shows a high of 78. Unfortunately, I'm racing on Sunday, but it could be a lot worse.

My wave starts at 10:35am and results should be posted by the end of the day for anyone who is stalking me.

Times from last year (to beat):
Swim: 27:47
Bike: 1:43
Run: 1:05

Here's a picture of the long course bike, the infamous 'nasty grade' strikes at mile 42.


Brian is doing the long course bike on Saturday as a relay, and I fully expect him to kick some nasty grade ass.

As I get my mind in gear for this race, I've decided that my true goal is to have fun and to race every single mile with a smile. This means that I have to smile, even if I'm not meeting my time goals. Even if my legs feel like lead. Even if I get a flat tire. Even if it's scorching hot as I climb out of the pit of despair.

I had a great race last year up until the run, when I completely bonked in the heat. When I crossed the finish line, instead of joining the celebratory throng, I had to take a few minutes to myself to walk off my 'mood'. What is up with that? Did I miss getting my cover page on Triathlete Magazine? Did I get the bronze instead of the gold? I wasn't even injured; the only thing that was hurt was my ego and I didn't really realize that until I looked up and saw a Challenged Athlete crossing the finish line...with a smile on their face. That's when it hit me that, ummmm, I'm so damn full of myself.

I guess it's easy to get caught up in the competitive aspect of triathlon, but really, I am only competing against myself. Everyone else will still love me (or hate me) despite my performance. And so, it would seem that the only way to win that competition is to be happy with doing my best.

Group hug?

We All Ask 'Why?' I Finally Figured It Out

Why? Why? Why? People who call themselves endurance athletes just love to ask themselves, and each other, this question. Why do we sacrifice our weekend mornings when we could be snuggling in bed...when the rest of the world is flipping pancakes, we are huffing up Mt Tam? Why do we think that riding a bicycle in the rain/fog/wind is a step towards spiritual enlightenment? Why do we spend thousands of dollars on gear when we could just give the money directly to charity? Why do we think that swimming in water so cold it hurts your face and numbs your feet is healthy? Why do we wear such dorky outfits in public? Why do we eat food that really belongs on a spacecraft?

Lance Armstrong answers this question. Dean Karnazes answers this question. And everyday individuals like you and me have answered this question. It sounds something like: "I do it because it makes me realize what I'm capable of." or "Because I need to experience discomfort in order to appreciate my comforts." Or some other equally profound concept.

Let's be honest. We are Americans. We are materialistic, self-absorbed a-holes. We want to save the world but only if we can look good while we're doing it. And only if it doesn't inconvenience us toooooo much. Yes, we do a smidge of good here and there, but even Angelina Jolie is getting an awful lot of PR for her acts of humanity. Insert: Oprah; Madonna; Alec Baldwin; Your Name Here Once You Become Famous.

It's a tough pill to swallow, but the real reason, ladies and gentlemen, is quite superficial. The real reason is that we want to look good in spandex. And the reason for that can be summarized in 2 words: The Bachelor. He's doing Wildflower and Lord help us, he might just have 1 rose left.

Andy Baldwin, whom my detective work has led me to believe has gone under the pseudonym Patrick Baldwin in previous Wildflowers, will be racing the long course and if that's not reason enough to get the ladies out there, I'm not sure what is. Last night at the Kezar track workout, there was a buzz amongst the females about Andy's participation. He's doing the long course and, what a coincidence, we'll be down there either watching or doing the long course ourselves.

On a personal note, I can't wait to see what this ultra-hunk really looks like. Will his Navy medals be pinned to his tri-shirt? Will he do the course with a stethescope around his neck? Former Bachelor Andrew Firestone looked good enough on TV (albeit, I thought he was a bit of a pretty-boy), but he's really about 5' tall. And Bob Guiney? Come on. With a name like that, I'm amazed they even let the guy(ny) on the show.

So I'm looking forward to a little extra drama this year...and, to wrap this up, I have one final wish, Dear God if you're listening: Please let Andy be one of the streakers.

Swim Start

While my running and biking have not improved one iota, although one person pointed out to me yesterday that my efforts still may have kept the levels from declining, I advanced my swim time trial by 2 laps, swimming 28 laps in 12 minutes. I felt great the whole time...the swim is really the only part of the triathlon where I actually feel that I can compete. I'm hopeful that I might be able to beat my swim from last year's Wildflower (27:34).

After the time trial, we did a simulation of a triathlon race start. It was good fun, bringing out our latent aggressive tendencies. There was kicking, dunking, and I even got tickled. I'd like to know which triathlon the tickling is going to prepare me for.

Professional Slacker

When I was born, the fixate dial was turned to 'medium'. It doesn't seem to matter what the venue is: work, triathlon, city-living, etc, I thrive on newness the way that dracula thrives on a fleshy, exposed neck. Clinicians call this ADD, I call it having a life.

The last two weeks have proved challenging in terms of keeping up the momentum with training. At first I thought I was slacking off, but upon deeper exploration, I've realized that it's not so much that I don't want to train, but that I want to do OTHER things as well. This further supports my belief that I was born to be a woman of leisure and this whole work gig is a bad fit all around.

I have still managed to get in about 4 trainings/week, but the struggle is there. I get home and the thought of going to Koret to complete the 4000 meter workout is overwhelmingly numbing. When I have a two-hour window, my mind says: get on your bike gear and go ride the Alcatraz course. But my gut says: it's too windy, too cold, too much gear to deal with...stay home and play with your attention-deprived kitty instead. I still feel good once I get going and even better once the workout is over. The eternal and un-original truth is that there just aren't enough hours in the day. In fact, I should be out doing something right now, but instead, I sit here writing this post.

The world does not stop turning just because I'm training for a triathlon. There's so much to absorb, to experience, and to bite off. Last Friday night, my high school friend Paul was in town, so we went out. Several drinks later I stumbled home and when I woke up the next morning to rain, I relished every moment of the self-imposed break from training. At least weekend's Alpine Damn ride, I lingered a bit too long at the rest stop inhaling the assorted snacks, and our coach yelled at me, "Keep moving, this is not a rest, it's just a re-fuel." I hustled onward, but in my head, I was thinking, "Man, sometimes you just need to stop and smell the Cheeze-Its."

So there you have it folks. To the disciplined triathlete, I am a slacker. But in my mind, I'm just trying to walk through life--a few days here and there anyway--in something other bike cleats, running shoes, or flip-flops.

The Slack

Forgive me for being Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde about Escape From Alcatraz, but I am riding a wave elation at the moment over learning that the race day currents are expected to be in the neighborhood of 4 knots, with an Ebb flow. It doesn't get much better than that. While I've been warned that "the tides don't read the tide book", I will take this good news and I will give it a big, wet, juicy kiss on the head.

As a result of this inspiring realization, I went onto have a great swim at Aquatic Park last night. The water was almost glasslike, the sun was setting, the sky a palette of pinks and orange, and I...almost...enj...oy...ed...it...almost. If it wasn't for the un-identifiable, but vile taste in the water (wretched sealions!), I might just call the experience pleasant.

One of the other swimmers turned me onto this tea, which she drinks just to get rid of the lingering water taste. It's good stuff. I think I'm going to have a thermos waiting for me at the transition area.

A couple of degrees warmer actually makes a noticable difference.
Conditions
Water temperature around 54-55 deg F (12.2-12.8 degC).
TIDES:
SLACK: 4:43 p.m.
MAX TIDE:7:51 p.m.- 3.3 knots FLOOD-7:51 p.m

The Sand Ladder

I'd like to take credit for this frighteningly funny (not so much funny ha-ha) write-up about The Baker Beach Sand Ladder, what some call the hardest part of the Escape From Alcatraz triathlon. I did this run on Sunday and can vouch for the pain. The course is eloquently described in the following excerpt from the Golden Gate Tri Club:

When you arrive back at the end of the beach where you entered but a few short minutes before, you are now confronted with the iron test of man and womanhood, the test you have read about and perhaps practiced in the weeks before, the evil and insidious and utterly loathed purveyors of pain....

The Sand Steps. Yes, it's all true what you've heard. They steal small children in the night, they are ugly and deviant and particularly vile. They alone are responsible for the collapse of about 34 dot coms. But you are Strong and Within Your Target Heartrate, and you aren't going to take it anymore. So get up there and climb, like you've never climbed before! Grab a fistful of rope and haul yourself up any way you can! If someone's in your way, push them to the side! I mean encourage them and keep going! Try your best to plant your feet on the solid wooden planks that serve as the foundation for the stairs, and if you can see no wooden planks, step in the footsteps of those who have gone before you, for they have compacted the sand and now you don't have to.

The dreaded sand steps are long and arduous but, despite what your lungs and quads are telling you, you will make it to the top. Once you do, pat yourself on the back, for they are one of the most difficult sections of racing in all of triathlon. Now you are burning for home, the sun is shining, and the pain is nearly over. The uphill continues after the sand steps, but not for long and soon you are coming back down the Coastal Trail the same way you went out. With tired legs and a mental focus bordering on mush, it is particularly important to concentrate on your footing as you descend - you've come too far to let a mental lapse result in a fall or an injury.