All the Eggs Are in the Basket

As you know, I've selected my target races for the 12-month period over which I intend to:

• Qualify for the Boston Marathon
• Qualify for Kona (Ironman Hawaii)

I officially began training for these things on September 5. Yesterday was the first race I did for the period. Races will calibrate where my actual fitness is, which then is used to plan my training and ensure that I am capable of meeting my goals.

The Naperville Trails 1/2 marathon was well run and took place in the Danada Equestrian Reserve, which is not too far from my house. I met my friend, Matt, there. The race started at 8:30, which was a bit late for our liking, but nothing you can do about it. The race was 100% on crushed limestone except for the last about 1/2 mile, where you run in on the grass horse track! There were some rolling hills, but nothing I would call "hilly."

My last 1/2 marathon was 4/12/2015 in Denver and I went 2:20. Yesterday I went 2:13. Not great for me, but the good thing is that my right foot didn't hurt one iota! In fact, yesterday was the first 1/2 marathon or more where my foot hasn't hurt since 2011! So actually I was ecstatic about my result, especially since I didn't taper and I went in with sore legs from last weekend's biking festival (50 miles fast with the A group of my bike club on Saturday, then 3 hours of Sufferfest videos on Sunday) plus 2 duathlon workouts last week. So to expect my best run would have been foolish. Still, I did visit the hurt locker, but it was nice in that Matt ran most of the way with me as did a 2:15 pacer girl. How great that was! I basically had my own personal pacers! Here are Matt and I before the race:

Now as to the eggs thing, after I raced yesterday (and I was 4/15 F55-59 by USATF age group classification, but if they used USAT age groups, I was first in 60-64 by 17 minutes!), I drove up to Madison, Wisconsin to cheer at the Ironman while spending time with one of my best buds, William. Here we are eating at the Badger Grill in the Doubletree Hotel, where we both have stayed previously and I already reserved for next year:

I think we met in 2003 originally, but William argued with me about that. William is an uber-ultra athlete. He's done a Triple Ironman. I love him and we try and spend time together whenever it's possible. That's really why I went up to Wisconsin, since I don't see him very often.

I wasn't in primo spectating mode, as my legs hurt like mofos from the race, but I did the best I could. I would ask people looking a bit shattered if there was anything they needed. I had brought gels, salt tablets, candy and HTFU. One guy said, "Albuterol." And I said I have it! I really hope that giving that guy a couple of puffs from my inhaler enabled him to feel better and get moving again. I know how awful it can feel when your lungs feel like they just can't work properly.

I stayed overnight with a friend, Emily, that I met 2 years ago at Tyranena Beer Run, another 1/2 marathon where I went 2:10. So I know I can go at least that fast (and maybe faster). I need my 1/2 marathon pace to be about 2:07 to really lock in on that Boston qualification. That's only 2 VDOT points from where I'm at now, and I've been that fast, so I feel confident in achieving the BQ. At Disney? Who knows? But if not there then certainly at Los Angeles marathon.

I have to admit, every day when I wake up, this BQ and KQ stuff is on my mind. Sometimes I say to myself, "Don't do anything stupid." But much of what I do is on autopilot, for example, driving fast in the left lane on a highway. But I've learned to give focus to whatever I'm doing, so when I'm driving, I'm driving, except when I need emergency McDonald's so that I don't starve to death:

OMG that was good. I was so happy to see that the McGriddle is back! But I digress.

Just because I've done so many triathlons and trained so hard for so many years doesn't mean I don't get nervous about races or goals looming on the horizon. I am already visualizing my finish at Ironman Wisconsin 2017. I signed up for it today, and I got the chills doing it:

There has been only one other time when I thought I might be able to get a Kona slot--it was in 2006. I was very well trained for Ironman Brazil. I was in fantastic shape. But then my Mom died a month before the race, and I still went. And I bawled my eyes out in transition before the race started. I felt so lost and alone. And I had caught a sinus infection and I was dizzy standing on the beach before the swim start. And then I got kicked in the face during the swim and didn't know until I was finished that my nose was bloody and my eyes were black and blue. But I finished, and of course, there was no Kona slot that day. The next year my Dad died, and after that I sort of just put the whole Kona thing on the back burner. I did a bunch of NothingMans, enjoyed that, and then I did Ultraman Canada in 2010 and am still very proud of that accomplishment--I was the oldest female finisher!

So it's not like I had given up on stretch goals, but early this summer I decided it was time to reach for the stars once again, and so here I am and it's fucking scary. I yell at my brothers to pay attention to their health--I don't want anything bad to happen to them in the next year. But you never know what life has in store for you!

Does that mean it's folly to put all your eggs in the one big, fucking basket anyway? NO! If you don't dream, you don't achieve. And even if you don't accomplish the dream, it is always worth the journey to have tried. Each time I do a major race, I learn something new about myself and find new satisfaction in doing it. And I absolutely love sharing my own knowledge with others. Over the years, I've mentored people who became faster than me (which is as it should be since they are younger than me!), and am truly happy for them. But I've had helpers along the way, too--people who have pushed me when I needed it--people who have stood by me when I've suffered emotionally, and people who might not be close friends, but they are always there to notice when I've done something good. And that's what this stuff is really all about.

So whether or not I cross the Ironman Wisconsin finish line in first place in my AG, I can say it will have been well worth my time and effort to give it a go. I am so lucky to even think about this! I am so unbelievably happy how all of this has come together for me, and honestly, I get all teary eyed at least once a day lately. Does that mean I'm weak? I don't think so. I think it means I really appreciate my life and fitness.

So when you get a bunch of eggs, PUT THEM ALL IN ONE BIG FUCKING BASKET. Your basket may just be to finish an Ironman or to get a degree or to get in better shape, but at some point you have to go for it. You will not regret it! 

Genesis of The Mind and Body of Iron

If you read my previous post, you know that I was imprinted by a very traumatic event, being raped, that taught me the fine art of depersonalization, or shutting down my emotions and physical sensations and carrying on only in rational thought.

While I was fairly physically fit in my 20's (I rollerskated about 40 miles a week until I got married), and even prior to being raped, I understood how physical activity unlocked a gateway to some degree of mental peace. Even in my teens I would go off and ride my bike just to "not think" and get away from things. But, the bike riding and skating I did back then was not to the point of my legs being sore or me perceiving it as hurting. Although maybe I was already in good enough shape that I was already doing more than most people? I really don't think skating 40 miles a week is a big deal, and I so enjoyed it! I would skate along the Chicago lakefront on the sidewalks. I remember some people being slightly annoyed on Lake Shore Drive that this skater girl was right on their home turf.

When I got married, I wanted my husband to skate with me. I offered to buy him skates, but he wanted no part of it. So I took up skiing, which is how ultimately I lost the ACL in my left knee. But skiing wasn't something we did enough to qualify as exercise, and he also didn't want to go ride bikes with me, so I found myself feeling flabby and out of shape. In my early 20's, I'd taken a bodybuilding class, and the instructor was all excited because he saw I could put on muscle pretty quickly. He said I could compete if I wanted to. Hey--maybe he just thought I was cute! I've always had trouble recognizing when someone was flirting with me. At any rate, I bought a bench and some weights and did that occasionally and really liked it.

In 1991 (I was married from 1986-1994), I had enough of being flabby, so with one of my bonuses, I bought a weight machine. I still have it:

I started using it regularly, and within 3 months, my ex said to me, "Don't you think your arms are big enough?" Holy fuck, I was puzzled by this! I mean, sure my arms got muscular again, but it wasn't like I was turning into some freak.I just quit being skinny. My clothes didn't fit me that much differently, but I felt better and looked better (to ME). Years later, I realized this was a premonition of the end of my marriage--that my ex wanted to keep me in this image that included being weak, quiet and helpless. None of which I was when he met me in the first place! 3 years later, he asked me for a divorce--in 1994.

So in 1994, I'm going through a divorce, and one day I decided to go rollerskating after drinking way too much. I hit something in the street and crashed and broke my right arm. A man scraped me off the road and asked where I lived and I was less than a mile from home and he offered to drive me. My arm hurt a lot, so he had to help me in and out of the car. When I got inside, I thought my arm might be broken. Since I was already a mental mess due to the divorce, I called Mom and Dad who were very understanding (I didn't really have any friends of my own at this time), and they came over and took me to the ER, where it was confirmed I had a broken arm. I remember one of the ER nurses asking me how much I'd had to drink, and I said, "2 or 3." Well that was a fucking lie! They didn't cast my arm for some reason and said I could go to the ortho next day and they would set it. They left my Mom with a sheet of instructions, though, because they thought I might have a concussion.

Dad went home and left Mom to stay with me overnight. I slept for a few hours, but then woke up burning up (it was August). I told my Mom to turn down the A/C. She turned it down to like 65 and I was still hot, but at least I stopped sweating. A few hours later, I was freezing, and asked Mom to turn off the A/C. Sometime around 6AM, Mom gently nudged me (she was told to wake me up every few hours), and told me to come downstairs and have some coffee. I thanked her and made it downstairs and went to sit down on one of my couches, and I blacked out and fell to the floor in a heap. Luckily, I didn't hit my head on a coffee table. I came to right away with Mom's help and drank the coffee and then laid down on the couch. She said I needed to try and stay upright now, and I was feeling better (except for my arm being broken), so I got up to walk to the kitchen to get more coffee, and as soon as I stood up, I blacked out again and collapsed into a heap. Welcome to having a concussion! After that, I was OK, and Dad came by and took me to the doctor to get my arm in a cast.

Mom and Dad took good care of me then. I was a mental and physical mess, pretty much like the time when I was raped, only this time I think they knew how to take care of me and they did. They didn't scold me for having been drunk. They knew how much mental pain I was in, and frankly, the broken arm didn't really even phase me.

The cast on my arm went up over my elbow (the break was close to the elbow on the radius) and over my wrist and onto my hand. I think they didn't want me to be able to rotate the radius/ulna. At any rate, I'm right-handed, so the cast was a pain in the ass. After about 2 weeks, I asked Dad (he was coming to visit me regularly in my divorce anguish) to cut off the piece on my hand so I could use it, and he obliged! Then in about 4 more weeks, I sawed some more of the cast off above my elbow.

Just before I got the green light to get the cast completely off, I got laid off from my job. I was devastated. I was like, "What the fuck else can happen? I'm going through a divorce, I broke my arm and now I've been laid off."  On the plus side, I got 12 weeks of severance and job placement assistance. But my self-confidence was in the dumpster. I felt old (I was 38), out of shape (I wasn't that out of shape), worthless (after being told by the ex that I was intimidating and how could anyone stand to work with me?) and helpless. It was one of those times when I compared how I felt to how bad I felt after I'd been raped. You don't think you can feel any worse than after you've been assaulted, but the brain finds a way to do it. It felt like I had these extremely deep scars that had never gone away and I was getting fresh ones. There were times during the next 4 weeks where I was amazed I didn't kill myself, as I couldn't see any light at the end of the current tunnel.

But I pulled myself together, and within 3 weeks I had 3 job offers. The one I ended up taking, at PeopleSoft, was where they asked me what salary I wanted (!), and I got exactly what I asked for. In retrospect, I should have asked for more, but I was happy. Within an hour of accepting the offer and agreeing to a start date, I called United Travel and booked a one week trip to Kona. I rented a red convertible Mustang for the week, and I had the greatest time there!

Within a few weeks of starting the new job, where I was looked at a little funny for wearing really nice dresses and suits that I'd sewed, while most people dressed casual (I eventually got with the program and switched out my wardrobe but would still out of the blue dress up), a guy I worked with said I should come down to the club with him and do a step class. At first I was reluctant, because I'd need to learn their "routine," but then I went and I took to it like a duck to water. So I did this plus resumed lifting weights at home (with nobody there to tell me I was GETTING TOO BIG), and started enjoying being in some kind of physical shape again.

The trainers at the small club changed regularly, but at some point, I was so good at the step class that when this one girl was sick, they would let me lead the class. Only I never thought the class was hard enough for me, so I would typically kick it up a notch. And I brought my own music that everyone really liked. After the step teacher left, a new guy started leading a circuit-style class, where you did a station for one minute then moved onto the next. It had jump rope, step, jumping jacks and some other stuff. There were 10 stations, and the class lasted 30 minutes. It was fun, but not really long enough for me. The class was M/W/F. So on Tu/Th, I went into the nice room where we did this and brought my own music tape and worked my way up to jumping rope for 30 minutes, and I really enjoyed it. So I was getting in decent shape again.

The summer of 1998, the then trainer, Mike, who really enjoyed talking to me as I was really into it, and I were talking, and I said why don't we take the class outside? So we did! And we added in sprints, running jump rope and some other really fun things. You should have seen the looks we got doing this stuff outside at the end of the parking lot! Mike and I conspired to make the class pretty challenging, and the people who could do it really liked it. We sweated our asses off. There was a crushed limestone track around the building complex, and that was where we'd do the sprints. One Tuesday, I wondered if I could run around the entire thing. So I went outside and ran around the complex once, and thought, "This isn't so bad." So I did it again. And one more time. And it took me around 30 minutes, maybe a bit less. Now, I was never a runner, never wanted to run (my ex ran maybe 2 miles 3 times a week), and here I was "running!" 

When I got back to the office, I asked a runner friend, Denise, how far she thought I had gone. She said it was 2K or so around once, and so I'd done at least a 5K! She told me that if I could do that, I should go and try a race. I was like, WUT PEOPLE ACTUALLY RACE THAT DISTANCE? Why yes they do! And she told me that there were 5K races every weekend and where I could go to find out about them.

So I signed up for my first 5K and did it, and I was like holy fuck! Perfect strangers are cheering for me at the finish line even though I suck! And I was hooked. Denise was doing the Chicago marathon that fall, and at that time, there was also a 5K run before the marathon started. So I signed up for the 5K and stupidly said I'd try and run the last 5 miles with Denise. She was and still is faster than me, and she has qualified for Boston many times.

The week before that race, my brain kicked in and said YOU KNOW YOU HAVEN'T EVER RUN 5 MILES YOU IDIOT MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY THAT BEFORE YOU GO AND TRY RUNNING WITH A "REAL" RUNNER IN A MARATHON. I'd done a 5K race, and so I thought I should go and run 2 more miles right after it. And I did, and it wasn't so bad. So I thought I was good to go, only on race day, my pace was nowhere near what Denise was running, so while I did keep up with her for 1 or 2 miles, I told her to go on ahead. I kept running, and I was IN THE MARATHON! I even crossed the finish line, and they gave me a medal (which I tried to give back but they wouldn't let me). I was still wearing my bib from the 5K so it looked like I was in the marathon. Somewhere I have a picture of us after the race, but I can't find it right now.

The day after that Chicago marathon, I flew to Kona for a vacation (I went there every year for 11 years straight). The day after I arrived, I thought I'd try and run more than 5 miles, so I ran 7. 2 days later I ran 9, and 2 days later I ran 11. I thought to myself, huh, I bet I could run a marathon! So when I got home, there was a signup for Team in Training to train for the Midnight Sun Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska. I signed up for that and also for the 1999 Chicago Marathon.

I went to Kona in April, 1999 on vacation with my BFF, Susan. I was scheduled for an 18-mile run, so I did it in Kona. Every time I would stop for water, someone would ask me if I was training for the Ironman. I felt so bad and like such a loser for saying, "No, just a marathon." But it was while killing time before my flight home (Susan lived in California at the time so we were on separate flights) that I went into a triathlon store, and the guy working there and I were talking, and he ended up saying I should do triathlons. I was like, "Fuck no--it's hard enough training for a marathon and lifting weights!" But we kept talking, and I liked what he was saying, and I did like riding a bike and I sort of knew how to swim, so the wheels started turning. By the end of the conversation, this man said that he knew I would do an Ironman someday. So I made him write it on the back of one of my business cards, that I keep on the small bulletin board in my home office/weight room:

And that summer, I started telling people that I was going to do an Ironman, but I thought it would take me 5 years to get there. Well it didn't. In the year 2000, I again went to Kona on vacation but this time I went for the Ironman, because my then coach was racing. It was painful for me to be there with so many people all over the place! I remember going to one of my favorite beaches where there were (usually men) preening and checking to see who had the bracelet on, and I thought to myself, "I hope I never am that arrogant." I volunteered for the race, and the day before rode my bike with Paula Newby-Fraser! At the time, she was riding a Griffen, and that was why I ended up buying one (and her name is Bitch)! 2 months before the trip, a guy I knew from a LISTSERV (Facebook did not exist!), Steve, had convinced me to sign up for Ironman Lake Placid in 2001. Well, I got so worn out working in T1 and then T2 as a bike catcher that I was like WTF how the fuck am I going to finish one of these things if I'm tired not even racing?

But I finished that first Ironman in 2001, and while I wasn't ecstatic at the finish line, I had already signed up for Ironman #2--the inaugural Wisconsin. In 2004, I got into the Kona lottery, and that was the last time I've been to Kona. 

MUST GET BACK TO KONA

...to be continued

Crazy Train

Above is what my training has been since the beginning of June. The number that's crazy/scary is the average number of hours/week. As of the end of last week, I'm at 16.77. That is, honestly, fucking insane. However, I intentionally did this to myself to see, along the way, if I felt like I was really prepared to do Ironman-level training again, and possibly even Ultraman. I think I can do it!

Starting yesterday, I'm on an actual training plan written by ME, the CEO of Crackhead Enterprises, LLC. This week's training calls for only 13.75 hours, and that is what I will do. So I will actually begin resting, relatively. From yesterday through October 30, I will only be biking twice a week. This makes me sad, as I am just getting into riding with the fast people in my bike club. But, I know I can resume kicking serious ass with them starting in the spring! And I am certain my coach will want me to ride with them at least once a week. That's how I get faster! And while I am in pretty decent cycling shape right now, it can never hurt to be faster, and I really don't think I've achieved my maximum bike fitness yet! Isn't that fucking exciting? At the ripe age of (almost) 60! 

Starting next week (I have a 1/2 marathon this Sunday), I will be doing double long runs on the weekends, and I will be doing hiking after them. The hiking time is not included in my projected training hours, so it will look like I'm not scheduled for much, but then it will come out in the actuals looking like a lot.

If I take my cumulative hours as of the end of last week, and add in my projected hours through the end of the year, not including the hiking time, I will be at 829 hours for 2016, which will result in an average of 15.94 hours per week. That is close to my heaviest years of training ever, in 2009 and 2010. 2010 is when I did Ultraman Canada. So I think I have proven to myself that I can still train at a very high (elite) level. But, I need to train faster in order to meet my goals of Boston and Kona qualification. I am sure my coach will take care of that in good time. He takes the reins beginning November 1, and I am really looking forward to it! I am positive he will bring the pain, but that's how I get faster.

I have a couple of concerns about myself right now:

1. I have not been sleeping enough. I am accustomed to sleeping a bit less when I am in an Ironman build period, but lately I'm sleeping way too little. Since I know my body and know that I sometimes have the opposite reaction to thyroid dysfunction, I have scheduled a thyroid test in a few weeks. It's likely I will need my Synthroid dosage changed. You might think that sleeping less means I've become borderline hyperthyroid, but, I know from the last few years that sometimes when I feel hyper, my thyroid is actually seriously overworked and trying to keep up with my demands on it and failing. So I may need to slightly increase my Synthroid dose. Starting yesterday, I have recommitted to tracking my sleep, because this will help remind me when I'm doing well at it or not which can signal that I need a thyroid function test.
2. It dawned on me a few days ago that I have FIVE marathon+ races scheduled over the course of 12 months! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!!! That can be dangerous territory. But that's why I have a coach. I will need to recover properly from each event so that I don't become injured and can keep training.

Really, that's it. I already know where I stand on my current paces for the 3 sports--swimming I don't expect or need to get much faster; running I am 2 VDOT points from where I need to be for the BQ, and I've been there before and know that is entirely achievable in under 6 months, and biking I need to ride more hills, and it's my intent to train on the Ironman Wisconsin course twice a month from May through August. To get the KQ at Wisconsin, I need to be brutally strong on the hills, so strong that I can run my good marathon afterwards. The Wisconsin course is brutal--both the bike and run--and it's funny that I never thought I would do that race again, yet that is the race where I want to win my AG and get the Kona slot! Hey--I know I'm fucking nuts, but you know what? I'm fucking proud of what I've achieved to date and that I have the chutzpah to openly broadcast my very ambitious goals.

How do I feel right now as I write this blog post?

HOLY FUCKING CRAP WHAT HAVE I DONE???

But I am excited as hell, and now every single day is important--how I eat, how I sleep, how I train, how I feel mentally, that I'm doing all the right self-care things, and that I prioritize those things above all else. All the other things in my life are important, too, especially my friends, because they will support me in this--but how clean my house is, how perfectly maintained my yard is--that bullshit doesn't matter in the least. And while I have time to attempt to run everything perfectly, I'm stating for the record that I'm just not going to even try. Things are going to go wrong, and they will be things I probably can't control so I officially surrender to the unknowns. But I'm looking forward to one fucking Cracktacular ride on the CRAZY TRAIN!

Winner Take All

I'm embarking on a big year of training and racing with some very ambitious goals. I've been going back and forth with my coach and some friends trying to decide on what races to do, in the context of my goals. Everything came together yesterday, and it felt to me like the universe was telling me it's ready for me to begin. 

The series of events were uncanny--I'd decided to reorganize my house and garage to make it easier to sew (in the case of the house) and keep clean (in the case of the garage). My best male friend (is that BMF? Really he's a BAMF!), Brad, called and said he and his wife want to come visit me for the Labor Day weekend. Good thing I got my guest bedroom in order! This weekend is when I'd planned to do the International Day of Suffering (see sidebar of races/events), so now Brad and I will do it together! That is going to be so much fun! 

I found out that a double Iron distance race that I was considering doing solo allows teams, and I started planting the seed with Brad last week that maybe we could do it together. Yesterday Brad tells me he's in for the double team thing, which is great, because he's moving to Portland and the race is like an hour from his new house, so I tell him I need to check with my coach.

Then I had found another marathon, the LA marathon, that was good timing post-Disney for me to get the BQ. Brad said he would do that, too. 

I had studied up the Kona qualification data, and it looked to me that Ironman Wisconsin would be a great place for me to qualify, plus it's in my back yard and I can train up there all summer. I ran this by my coach a few days ago, together with where I'm at, fitness-wise, in running and what time I'd need to do to get the slot at Wisconsin.

All that was left was to gain approval from my coach, Nick, to put these races on the table, and we chatted last night and it's a go! So now you can see on my sidebar what I've got planned for 2017--Disney in January, LA marathon in March (although Nick thinks I might BQ at Disney), Volcano Olympic Triathlon in Lanzarote in April (more of a vacation than anything else), team double Iron in July, and then Ironman Wisconsin in September.

I know I am going to need to buckle in for this ride and be prepared for many ups and downs. Goes with the territory. I'm already lining up people to "stalk" me during the marathon at Ironman Wisconsin. I've done this for other friends of mine where they just see me and I yell motivational things at them like Harden The Fuck Up to keep them motivated. It's time to call in some favors and have it done for me. 

Things are a ways off yet, but I know from past experience that once you sketch out the ATP (Annual Training Plan), you have a good idea of what's about to happen and it ain't going to be easy!

But I am so excited and ready for this. I've been training for all this for years. It's going to be a wild ride--I just hope it's not like this:

Stay tuned, and check the sidebar if you want to learn more about the races I'm doing.

Revolution Number Eight, or Cream City Century Ride Report aka the Ride Where Everything Goes Wrong

Huh. In writing this, I thought I'd done 9 centuries this year, but sadly it's only 8. I'd wanted to title this post "Revolution Number 9" for obvious reasons, but I couldn't. Still, that's 850 (2 of them were 200k rides all or partly on the trainer!) miles of happy biking goodness! My first century this year was on June 5, and since then I've also done 3 triathlons (and won 2 of them!). So that's a lot of happiness packed into 3 months! I don't write up all century rides in such elaborate detail as what follows, but it was my last one of the year, and I really savored the day, and so grab a coffee or beer or 3 and enjoy!

Yesterday was my last century ride for 2016--the Cream City Century out of Waterford, Wisconsin. This ride was recommended to me by Tim of my bike club. In case I haven't said it a million times already, I am SO glad I joined the Downers Grove Bike Club. So many good riders belong and of course, are all wonderful people to know! I love biking and I love people who love biking! It's like I'm in a big love fest every time I ride with them!

The weather for yesterday was predicted to be awesome--low 80's with light winds 5-10mph, and the weather delivered! You can't really get better than that, although mid- to upper 70's is wonderful, too. But this late in August, low 80's don't really feel that bad.

Initially, the plan was to ride with Tim, and have him pace me to my fastest century of the year. However, Tim came down with a cold, and also his primary bike was in the shop. I told him he needs more bikes if he can't ride because ONE is in the shop!

I posted to the bike club Google group in case anyone else was planning on going, but had no takers as of Friday. I didn't mind, because I always find people to ride with when I show up to these things.

I woke up at 3AM yesterday (alarm was set for 3:30) so I'd have plenty of time to eat, down the Ultra Violence (Twinlab Ultra Fuel) and drive the 88 miles to Waterford.

I've been using Ultra Fuel for 16 years, thanks to my first coach, Mike Arenberg (he's in the book Becoming an Ironman, and his first triathlon ever was an Ironman!). It's basically 100% carbohydrates that you mix with water and drink to load up before long events. It was formulated for bodybuilders, but I use it whenever I'm working out 4 or more hours. One of my friends used to sip hers over the course of an hour, but I just down the entire thing (I mix it with about 16 oz. of water), and then proceed to go into an insulin coma.

I ate my usual breakfast, coffee plus a hard boiled egg on a toasted whole wheat English muffin (how English can it be if it's whole wheat?) with a little jam, had one more soft boiled egg, drank 300 calories of Ultra Fuel, and then I drank a Coke on the drive up. I cook 8 eggs at once so I have 7 for a week, and the 8th one is on top of the others and comes out soft-boiled and I eat it immediately! I love eggs, and they are good for me, and my cholesterol is just fine, thank you very much! I also drank about 16 oz. of water after breakfast.

So, I had a bit over 800 calories in the tank before I started riding. I know from all the years I've been doing this endurance stuff (and great coaches) that you want to be loaded up before anything long. One of the effects is that you really don't feel like going fast right away, because you are still working off a significant calorie load. But the main reason to do this is that you will never replace the calories you are burning, and you probably won't be eating lunch during your session, so you can still bonk without sufficient calories in the tank beforehand, even if you are ingesting enough while you are exercising. I've ridden with so many people who fail to fuel up properly beforehand, and then they wonder why I am still so strong at the end of century rides. Sigh...they should listen to me.

In my cooler were (2) 3-hour bottles of Infinit (my super electrolyte/caffeine loaded custom mix called Money Shot delivering 244 calories/hour), 2 bottles of water, a bike bottle of Gatorade for the drive home in case I wanted it, a bike bottle of just water (Skull Kingdom's frame is so small I can only put a 20-oz. bottle into the cage on the down tube, and when I use concentrated Infinit that bottle holds pure water), 1 Bass Ale for post-ride, 2 pieces of string cheese for post-ride, 1 frozen water-filled bottle of Coke (that's my trusty cooler ice!) and a frozen bottle of Endurox R4 for my recovery drink. Freezing the Endurox R4 lets it act as ice for the other cooler contents, and then it comes down to still being cold after a century ride! 

I left my house about 5:00. I had thought I'd leave earlier, but it's funny how things to do expand when I'm getting ready for these things, and besides I wasn't planning on doing anything else for the day!

I pulled out of my driveway and figured I'd start in on the Coke at 5:30. I listened to Diamonds and Pearls by Prince on the way up. Such a good album! I didn't speed too much, and didn't drive in the left lane much except to pass. I decided to stop at the Lake Forest Oasis (that's what we call the over-the-highway things in Illinois) to pee. All that coffee, water, Ultra Fuel and Coke necessitated the stop. I walk in to the building, and who do I see? Dennis, a guy from my bike club, that I'd ridden with 3 weeks ago, only I didn't remember his name. But we hugged (and I got French kisses on both cheeks!), and he introduced Scott, whom I'd met at bike club meetings but didn't remember his name, either. I assumed they were going to the same ride and they were, and I asked if I could ride with them, and they said sure. Scott hadn't ridden a century this year, and thus started the sandbagging. It's a tradition with these things, although I didn't trot out any of my own yesterday. Sure, I'm probably training a whole lot more than either of them, but I have no excuse not to ride a decent pace.

I left the Oasis a couple of minutes before the guys, only because I only had to pee and they were eating breakfast. I pulled out back onto I94, and not too long after, here comes a white SUV hauling ass. I decide to keep pace with it and it turns out it's Dennis with Scott driving! Well they keep going ahead of me, and before you know it we are going 100mph. I've never gone that fast in this car (it's only 2 years old), and I don't make a habit of going much over 85 on the interstates. I catch up to them and make some hand signals while smiling like WTF how fast are we going to drive? Scott dialed it back down to 90-95, and I (wrongly) assumed he had a radar detector and so would pick up any threats along the way. From the Oasis, it was about 34 miles to our exit, 333 (US 20).

Well holy fuck, that was some fun driving! Turns out I like driving my car fast! I didn't realize that we were supposed to race on the way to a century. Everyone knows that any century ride is a race even if you don't say it out loud. We get to Waterford High School, where the ride begins, and we park side by side. We get out and I immediately note that I have a bladder the size of a teacup and so I need to hustle in to pick up my T-shirt and cue sheet (which they spelled QUE at the table with the sheets on it which I thought was funny). I was pre-registered, so it was a snap to get my crap, but Dennis and Scott needed to register. Back at the Oasis, I'd asked why they didn't post to the Google group that they were doing the ride, and Scott said it was because they only decided at 4PM on Saturday!

At the registration table, I was standing next to Dennis, and I looked at his well-muscled legs, and commented, "My legs are bigger than yours!" Judge for yourself:

I'm shorter than Dennis but my legs are bigger. Does that mean I'm fat?

To which the guy manning the table, who by the way, was wearing a fucking awesome Spider Man kit, remarked, "But yours are much nicer to look at!" I probably blushed and thanked him. Then it was off to get our bikes out of the cars and get set to ride. I showed the boys the bottle of beer I had stashed for later. In retrospect, I should have brought more, but how would I know I'd be meeting up with people I know?

We took off, and initially, it was misting. There was a good deal of fog on the drive up, and after we'd turned off I94 it was pretty thick. It reminded me of when I was driving from the Albany airport to Lake Placid in 2007 and I was freaking out because the fog was pea soup and I could barely see the road. Great memories!

The mist felt fine on me, It was so light it didn't make a difference. I was a teeny bit chilly, as the temperature wasn't yet 70 as we started. Still, right off the bat, the 3 of us are passing people with aplomb. As we started to hit some hills, I lagged behind, because my hill skills suck right now--I haven't really ridden much hills since 2012, so it's natural I suck at it currently. But we'll fix that next year. Anyway, about 10 miles in, I'm not far behind the boys and I think my front brake is rubbing, and I stop and I was right. I fix that, and hope I might catch back up, but then I hit what felt like a pothole and shortly after that, I'm on a downhill and things don't feel right and I am thinking, "Please don't be a flat, please don't be a flat!" But I knew it was a flat. Fuck. My first flat this year.

I pull over and begin the process, only it's hard for me to get the tire off the rim because I sliced the tip of my right index finger (I'm right-handed) off Saturday night while slicing celery on the mandoline, and while I had it well-bandaged up, it still hurt to put pressure on it. So a guy stopped and asked if I needed help, and I explained my finger issue, and he started to help.He seemed nervous, though, I think because he'd never worked on a deep-dish wheel. Still, he got the tire off the rim, I inspected the tire and it looked fine, and I figure the pothole did it. Something got in there and jacked the tube. Oh well.

So we have the tube in there and the tire back on the rim and we use the CO2 and presto we're good. Only we're not. Either Craig didn't fully get the tire back on the rim or the CO2 blew it partly off. Now I'm fucked because the valve stem is (at least I thought) too far down the extender to get to to deflate the tube so I can put the tire back on the rim. Nobody, not Craig, not any passing cyclist, not me, has a long enough, thin enough tool to get at it. I'm fucked. I call for SAG and get voicemail. I try not to panic, and I didn't panic, but I really wanted to get in 100 miles! SAG never called me back and finally I unscrew the valve extender and fuck me there's the valve tip! So I deflate the thing and along come Tom and Suzanne, and Tom put the tire back on the rim and he had a regular pump and we got enough air into it to get me to the first rest stop at 25 miles in. What a clusterfuck! Well, lesson learned.

That was the first time I had a flat on the HED wheels.I know that I will continue to pay the extra $ for the tubes with the ultra long stems so that I know I can get to the damn thing without the valve extender!

Crisis averted, I thought it was the nice thing to do to ride with Tom and Suzanne for a bit. Tom was on a road bike and Suzanne on a cruiser, but boy they weren't slow! Turns out they'd ridden a century the day before and were obviously avid cyclists! What nice people! See this is what I love about biking! Suzanne asked where I was from, and she'd known someone who lived quite near to me! She asked what "I do" there, and I said, "What do you mean?" She said, "Job." And I told her I was done. I asked them both the same. Tom still works in IT for a small bank, and Suzanne said she is, "finding herself." She had done economic development work overseas, and said it was hard to get those jobs in safe (i.e., non-war zones) areas now, so she was testing out other options.

I rode with them for maybe 5-6 miles, and then I just needed to go faster, so I just rode off. I knew they wouldn't mind. Friends and other cyclists let friends and other cyclists go fast!

I got to the first rest stop at 25 miles and was relieved to get there, and asked for a pump and we loaded my front tire up. Of course, I got all sorts of comments on Skull Kingdom, and one of the bike club volunteers wanted a picture of me with her, so I obliged, and he took one for me:

His name was Ken, and I told him I wouldn't hate him just because he has the same name as my ex-husband. He even told me how to pose when taking the picture. I'm sporting my brand new POC aero helmet. Another first for this ride. Frankly, I don't think it's faster than my traditional aero helmets, but maybe that's because of how small I am. Still, it's a plenty comfortable helmet, and one of the things I really like about it is that it really keeps the sun out of my eyes.

Shortly before I arrived at 25 miles, I heard something fall off my bike. It was a little baggie of valve extenders and tools. Turns out I'd failed to zip my seat bag back up and it had fallen out. In the process, I lost an EpiPen that was in there, so I hoped I didn't get stung. Oh well, life goes on. 

I left the rest stop and now I had to ride the 25-mile loop that was only for the century, and since I'd lost time with the flat, I was out there all by myself. It was boring and lonely, and the roads sucked. But the scenery was beautiful and the weather was awesome, so I really couldn't complain. About 6 miles before the next aid station at 50 miles (we returned to the first one for a second visit), I see a guy riding up ahead and figure I can catch him. He was wearing a hot pink jersey. I ride up to him and ask if he's on the century ride, and he says no, is there a century today? Yes. Well, obviously I'm faster than him, but as I pass, he speeds up and rides alongside me. So I say, "So you don't like it when a woman passes you?" He lied a little and said, "No, I just like the company." Well I'm thinking obviously you've been slacking if you can ride this pace but you weren't. Turns out he was doing his last long ride before Ironman Wisconsin. I asked him how many Ironmans he's done and this was going to be #3. He never did ask me the same question, but that's fine, I'm not out there to impress anyone but myself. He said he was just finishing an 80-mile ride and then running 6, and I said that's perfect and then you taper! I apologized that I wouldn't be up there this year to cheer, and wished him good luck, and then he turned off and I continued on to the rest stop.

This time at the rest stop, I had a half turkey/cheese sandwich. It was SO FUCKING GOOD! Even though I carry enough calories for normal circumstances, when I ride centuries during heavy training, extra calories are always welcome, and I do enjoy a hit of protein. I adjusted my Infinit bottles and headed out onto the next section.

Somewhere in this stretch, I either launched one of my Infinit bottles or else I left it at the rest stop. Another first. Fuck. Oh well, I still have 3 and can buy another one. I like them because they have lines drawn on them already. I'm not going to do that to any of my precious Ironman bottles!

There were 2 guys that I passed on this stretch, but then I thought maybe I'd like to pee and so I turned off on a little side road just before a big climb. Turns out I didn't need to pee, so 1 mile later, I'm climbing this big hill and there are other riders and I didn't do too badly on the climb, but some dumbasses (including my 2 NOT friends that I'd passed earlier) were riding side by side! Stupid fucking people! Then the road got really curvy and still the dumb shits are riding side by side while cars are trying to get around in a NO PASSING ZONE. Idiots.

Anyway, I caught back up to my 2 NOT friends, as I am faster than them, and I almost cussed them out for riding side by side, but I chose not to because who needs the anger?

We get to the next rest stop and it was just a thing off the side of the road across the street from what appeared to be a combination bike shop/bar. Only in Wisconsin! They had a rack to put our bikes on, and immediately one of the volunteers commented on how fast my bike looks, and said I must ride fast. I said, well I try, and that I won't even ride this bike if I don't feel like I'm fast enough for it. He said that was odd, and then I told him about a friend of mine, Dino, who has a really cool Trek with a flame paint job and that he puts tape around the frame and only starts taking it off as he gets closer to his target fitness/speed!

At this rest stop, I had another first--I ate a dill pickle! It was tasty, and I hoped it wouldn't upset my stomach. I was now out of Infinit, and figured I'd need the salt. I filled a bottle with the Gatorade they had, which was way, way too weak for my liking, but I had no choice. I took off and immediately began having trouble clipping in my left shoe. It had been truculent all day, but now I just couldn't get it in. Tough to ride fast like that. A guy named Dave stopped and clamped the shoe on there for me, and I thanked him and asked if I could ride with him. He said yeah, and we weren't going extremely fast, but a few miles later, we saw a pair of riders up ahead, and I said, "Let's go catch them." And Sandbagger Dave flies ahead like he has another entire gear! I work hard to catch up and I do, and we fly by these youngsters. Dave was hilarious and kept making stupid jokes like he hoped he'd finish the century before sundown! I enjoyed riding with him, and he said his quads were getting twitchy and it worried him because the last leg of the ride had a lot of FUCKING HILLS! Finally someone else throwing F-bombs! I commented that I throw them probably way too much, and then I said, "So they're not just hills--they're FUCKING HILLS?" We both had a good laugh, and then he remarked that the hills were going to wear him out, to which I said, "That's what hills are for!" And then I said, "Don't hate the hill--hate the rider!"

Dave and I made it to the 85 or so mile rest stop, and as soon as I parked Skull Kingdom, one of the volunteers shouted, "YOUR WHEELS ARE ON FIRE!" Of course, I smiled broadly at this, and everyone had a good laugh and a few riders went over to Skull Kingdom to take a look at her. Here's Dave and me:

And here's just me and Skull Kingdom, because as usual, the volunteers wanted a picture of her and I asked them to take one of me:

Guess who was reclining in lawn chairs here? DENNIS AND SCOTT! I was like WTF are you doing here, and it was partly due to Scott not having ridden a century this year. I was glad to see them, told them I'd had a flat, but all in all, I couldn't have been riding too shabby, right? I ate a small handful of Cheetos they had there (YUM!), and said let's go. Dave took off by himself, so now it was me, Dennis and Scott.

Dave had warned of the hills and he wasn't kidding. Now they came one after the next, and my legs were well fried by now, but I had to press on. I went up front, and I always worry that I'm not riding fast enough when I'm with guys, but then I think I'm usually wrong. Anyway, with about 5 miles to go, who should be stopped by the side of the road but Dave? He really was hurting. I waved as I went by and now thought I JUST WANT TO BE FUCKING DONE. And when I hit 100 miles, I was like HOW MANY FUCKING MILES IS THIS RIDE??? Those are typical thoughts during a century, because while they are advertised as 100 miles, YOUR MILEAGE MAY VARY. Plus I know I added at least a mile on my little detour.

One again, my 2 NOT friends were still riding side by side, the assholes, and once again, I passed them soundly. I bit my tongue and this time asked the guy on the Bianchi which race he'd done. Earlier I was sort of an asshole when I saw the number on his helmet and asked, "What race are you doing RIGHT NOW because there's a number on your helmet?" I dislike it when people leave numbers on their helmets or bikes after a race. I know for newbies, it's a badge of honor, and I excuse them (if they are on let's say a hybrid or MTB), but decent cyclists I wonder what's wrong with them. Anyway, Bianchi dude tells me he did a 1/2 Ironman in Door County. Beautiful place. He said the race was really nice. I congratulated him and went on.

I got to my car just a few minutes before Dennis and Scott pulled in. I immediately grabbed a piece of the string cheese to wolf down because I felt an impending bonk coming on. I had already put on my Reef flip flops with the bottle openers in the soles, and I took out my cooler and said, "Watch this!" I took out the bottle of Bass Ale and opened it with my shoe! It foamed over a bit, and Dennis asked if it was warm, and I said, "No. I'm a professional. I know how to keep things cool in the cooler for a century!" I sucked that thing down so fast--it was just what the doctor ordered! I asked if anyone needed dirty clothes bags (the high school had the showers open for us!), and both guys said yes, I loaded bike into car, grabbed my bag of clothes, towel and toiletries, and went in.

I immediately took out my contact lenses, which felt SO GOOD! Then I took the BEST SHOWER EVER! Someone had left a bar of soap in there, but I brought my own shampoo and conditioner. I toweled off and got dressed and was ready for FOOD!

They had lunch (or whatever it was--due to delay of game it was already 3:30) set up in the school cafeteria. A small salad, spaghetti and meatballs, bread slathered with butter and a bottle of water, and I think I shoveled it all in in record time! Dennis and Scott were just a bit behind me, yakking with other people including Tom and Suzanne! Dennis has a business where he makes custom jerseys and shorts and stuff, so if you need that sort of thing, let me know and I'll hook you up.

I sat across from the boys and was probably yammering at high speed which is what happens when you are all endorphined up and had a shit ton of caffeine to boot. Turns out Scott is the chief radiologist at Good Samaritan Hospital in Downers Grove, which is where I have had many radiology things run on me. As I described my physician as "she," Scott knew who she was, and then he made a dry joke (I guess radiologists have a dry sense of humor) that he'd seen me before. Well now I finally understood what his vanity plate meant--BCUN U SOON. Earlier I'd thought it was just a "see you soon" thing, but I was wrong. I really enjoyed talking to Scott. He wasn't aware of just how much I train, and he understood the physiological challenges I encounter being hypothyroid and all. I described a little of my "journey" with that and how I was eminently aware of its impact on carbohydrate metabolism and sodium processing, and that sometimes I've been told I'm crazy, but he knows I'm not. He asked if I told my doctor just how much training I do, and I have, but really, it's hard for some people to understand. He told me to try telling them how many calories I am pumping through my body, and that that would help them understand why it's critical I be regulated on Synthroid properly.

We finished up and I told Scott I wouldn't be driving 100mph on the way home, and that I'd need to stop for gas about 10 miles out. We said our goodbyes, but here's me with Scott, and that's Tom and Suzanne in the background:

and here are Dennis and Scott:

I told them both I planned on winning the dessert competition at the annual bike club picnic in 3 weeks. I'm making individual Margarita Pies and chocolate chip bacon cookies.

I gassed up (cheap gas in Wisconsin!) and proceeded to drive home, mostly in the left lane, but no more than 85mph. Everyone was going fast, so I wasn't standing out. I drank the Endurox R4 (still cold!) on the drive back. When I got home, I drank another beer, wolfed down a small deli container of seafood salad, and then later I had a huge bowl of the sausage/tomato pasta I'd made on Saturday. I was well and truly shelled! That was a 21-hour training week last week, including one brick workout, one duathlon workout, one century ride, 33.5 miles of running, 175 miles of biking, 11,000 yards of swimming, 1.5 hours of strength training and lots of food! I lamented the fact that I am still without candy! My friend Brad will come through, though, soon enough, and all will be well.

I had such a wonderful day yesterday, despite things going wrong and riding slower than I'd wanted to. All in all, it was 104.6 miles in 6:18, which is slow for me, but it reminded me of all the hill riding I will need to do next year, especially since Ironman Wisconsin will be on the table, and that is where I will earn my Kona slot!

Hope you enjoyed this little novella--I enjoy writing it down!