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

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!

Smiles and Tokens of Appreciation Go a Long Way

Over the years, I've encountered many people in my athletic, personal and work lives who have helped me in some way, and I try and help others whenever I can. I have many tokens of appreciation, some of which merely signify we are happy to know one another. When I look around my house, I see so many little things (I now have a policy against anything larger than about 6" any dimension) that came to me under happy circumstances. I have articles of clothing that were given to me that whenever I wear them remind me of the giver. 

I especially appreciate when someone gives me something that is "me." I have an Incredible Hulk action figure given to me by my good friend, William. I have a hot dog ornament that was given to me by a former coworker, Liz. I once sent Liz a box of candy and fucks, because I knew she would like the candy, and I also knew she was running out of fucks. I wrote FUCK on about 30 Post-It notes! I have a skull given to me by Lori, and when she gave it to me, she told me how she had searched for the perfect skull. It's an anatomical model, that some people wouldn't like, but I love it. I have many things from my BFF, Susan. From skulls to a picture of some wild asses we saw in Hawaii when we were there together when I was training for my very first marathon! Joshua gave me some decorative bottles that have skulls on them and little things inside that I immediately asked, "Are those candy?" Sadly, they are not. My favorite earrings were given to me by Shelley--they are heads in a jar from New Orleans!

Back in 2004 when I was fortunate enough to get into Ironman Hawaii via lottery, I was there with Susan and another friend, Judy. They were my support crew and put up with my moody ass. Here's the 3 of us in a convertible that I rented for our stay and I think we were on the road up to Mauna Kea. This was taken after the race, which explains my winning tan! 

I had such a good time showing Susan and Judy my favorite places on the Big Island after the race. Some time after we all returned to the mainland (sadly), Susan sent me that picture in a beautiful frame. I display the picture always in my living room as it reminds me of good friendship and a wonderful experience. 

On our last day in Kona, we went to Lulu's on Alii Drive. It's now closed. Strung around the railings were banners from the race that merely read Ironman World Championship. There were no sponsor names on it. I asked if I could have a piece of it, and they gave me about 10 feet worth! I took it home and it was precious to me; however, I have given pieces of it away to others--some as they qualified for Kona, and some for inspiration. I don't have any of it left myself, which at times makes me sad, but I hope that the recipients appreciate it.

I try and give people a token of appreciation when they do a favor for me. It's not because I believe in quid pro quo (or as I like to call it, Squid Pro Quo),

but it's just the right thing to do. Sometimes people turn me down, but I'm usually quite insistent on showing them how much I appreciate what they did.Yesterday I decided to go swim at Good Samaritan Wellness Center again. I figured it was worth it for the cool water and hot tub to pay the $15. When I got there (finally, after I'd started on cleaning/organizing my garage, applied a bag of sand to my patio, dropped off a ruined car tire for recycling and checked if I could still get some hanging flower baskets), Jamie was at the front desk, but so was someone else, and she took my information and I paid the $15. Jamie winked at me, and I engaged her in quiet conversation after I paid up, and I told here when my next 3 visits would be, and without saying anything out loud, I know she will let me in for free. Just as I did a few years ago, I am going to give her a bottle of wine for the favor. I remembered that she liked reds, and I did quietly say to her yesterday, "If I remember correctly, you like reds, right?" I didn't even need to say WINE. She remembered, too. So I bought a pretty nice bottle, since after all, I'm still saving money based on her generosity, and I even found a nice wine gift bag at home and thank you card.

Why has this woman been so nice to me over the years? Because I show up smiling! One time it was to go there at oh-dark-thirty to do my very first 10k swim. Many other times it was because my Y was closed on a holiday (now my Y is open almost every holiday) or it was closed for the annual cleaning. We've both aged, but she is much younger than me (I'm guessing 20 years?).  When I went to swim on Sunday, she asked me what was new, and I told her I'd left my job and was starting in on some ambitious athletic goals.

I've had my share of being depressed and/or surly, but my natural state is exuberant and smiley. Some describe it as "bouncing off the walls." Well, yes, sometimes it's like that, too! As long as I'm doing something I enjoy doing, I'm generally going to have a smile on my face and know that my own smile can infect others. I've experienced incredible sadness, too, like in 2006 and 2007 when my parents died back to back. I was a wreck for the better part of 3 years straight, and for months after each parent's passing, I could barely go out in public without crying. But there were many people who were incredibly kind to me and I will never forget that. During that time, I learned how to help others through their own grief process, and unfortunately, have had to utilize those skills regularly. To me, there is no greater gift you can give a person than to be able to help them through that shit. When you know the horrors of deep, crippling grief, you never want to see a friend or loved one go through that, but you do what you can for them.

I'm sure I'm not always as thankful/appreciative for what others do for me, but I am always trying to get better at it. There have been times in the not too distance past when I've been depressed and thought I didn't have many friends. But I am finding that in having the time and energy to reach out to them all now, that I've not lost any of the important friendships, and those people are willing to stand by me and support me in my goals. And that, my friends, is the greatest gift I could ever receive. I hope I can make them all proud not just for what I accomplish, but for who I have become as a person. Because while I love the athletic stuff, none of that is going to be important when I'm dead. What will be important is that I lived my life with joy and integrity and gave as much to others as they have given to me.

For at least 10 years, I've mentored or coached (typically for free) many people because to me, knowledge is useless unless you give it away. No offense to people who charge for that, and I may begin doing that again, but having a passion for something and sharing that passion with others is one of the best things in life. I love gardening and love it when people appreciate my yard as they walk by, and sometimes we chat about plants and stuff. I love training and racing, which is why I like to be well-dressed when I do it so it's obvious the joy I am experiencing, even when it sucks. There is too much good stuff in life to experience for one lifetime! But I am going to give it my best shot!