T minus six months

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas with friends and loved ones. I sure did, surrounded by my family.

Not only was yesterday the day after Christmas, and Boxing Day if you're reading this from Canada. Exactly six months from yesterday, June 26, is Ironman Day. And exactly six months from this very minute I will be luxuriating in rest and recovery!

In the meantime, my training plan is coming into focus and I'll share that with you very soon. I'm also getting ready for my first race of the season--a 1/2-marathon in Miami on January 30th. The running mileage is increasing every week--I'm up to 9 miles for my long run--and I'm feeling good. I love an early-season race. It keeps me off the couch in the dead of winter. Unlike many of you east of the Mississippi, we have been blessed with balmy temps and sunny skies this December. It unfortunately didn't make for a white Christmas, but it does make for nice running weather. (If you did get hit with the blizzard this past weekend, I hope you're all safe and warm.)

I met with my triathlon coach this morning to discuss the final details of my overall Ironman training plan. As I sat there staring at the multi-colored spreadsheet packed with numbers and training jargon, I took comfort knowing that even if I don't know what I'm getting myself into, she does. The big picture plan, I can deal with. The details are what send me into hyperventilation. She's there to give me the details, to tell me whether to focus on endurance or speed, and to talk me off the ledge should I need it. On my way out, we laughed that I'm about due for a meltdown. I've been lucky--2010 has seen many ups and few downs. And if I'm being realistic, I should expect a serious challenge to my luck come May. This very long training period is necessary not just for physical preparation--but also, and perhaps more importantly, for mental, psychological, and emotional preparation.

There's not much else to report at this time. I just wanted to poke my head in and say hi and Merry Christmas!

Swimming, biking, and running from my past

There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. ~ Nelson Mandela

For about a half an hour yesterday, I was 17 again. Maybe you've played the game "If you could be a certain age again, what age would you be?" I have. And my chosen age is most definitely not 17. So this trip back in time yesterday was not fun. I had a very sudden and unexpected emotional reaction to being yanked back to 1988. I was fascinated by my reaction and what I learned from it.

Without going into details, I was having dental work done when 17-year-old Jen decided to show up. Dental work that I haven't had done since, well, I was 17. My mini-meltdown during the procedure was clear evidence of how much my self-concept and happiness are tied to my smile. Among other things, I see myself as someone who is happy and cheerful and who wants to see the sunshine in people and things. This part of my self is expressed, naturally, through my smile. So when my smile gets taken apart, I suppose part of my self-concept does, too.

I had a lot of time to think, sitting in the dentist's chair. I thought mostly about how I'm at once the same as and very different from my 17-year-old self. It wasn't until later that night that it hit me. I swim, bike, and run for many reasons: because I love achieving goals, because it helps me manifest my self-concept, and for the sheer enjoyment of it. Yes, all of that I knew. What became clear is that I also am swimming, biking, and running away from who I don't want to be--that shy, easily embarrassed, not-really-good-at-anything 17-year-old. And I'm at peace with that, with carrying forward parts of my old self that still serve my purpose and changing those aspects of me that don't.

Thank you for letting me share.

Happy Holidays everyone!

What (I think) it takes

Many people ask me how one trains for Ironman. "Oh my gosh" they say. "How on earth can you do that?" I often wonder the same thing! I don't know exactly how one trains for Ironman, having never done one before. But I have done enough endurance events to be able to make some educated guesses.

Yes, the training plan is necessary. My plan is currently in the works and it will prepare me for the sport-specific demands of swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles, and running 26.2 miles in under 17 hours. The other ways I'm training for Ironman are more "invisible." Swim/bike/run requisites aside, here is my opinion on what it takes to do Ironman, along with my self-grades in each area.

A belief that the journey is the destination. My goal for Ironman is not just the obvious one of simply finishing. A significant part of my goal is to live the experience of training and preparing for something so big. My veteran Ironman friend Heather told me that training for this monster is a year-long process. From the day I signed up to when I earn my finisher's medal, it will have been a full year. And I intend to fully embrace every single second of this year. (Grade: B+. Even though I have always favored process over task, I can become overly-focused on the end point, on checking the achievement off my list. So I give myself something less than a perfect grade on this one.)

Executing my race plan. I'm a natural born planner. I love a plan...give me a plan for shopping, for work, for social engagements, for anything! I even plan my free time. I'm not kidding. So when everything I read told me that Ironman must have a race plan, I celebrated. (I'll share my race plan with you later, once I've actually figured it out.) I'm also not too shabby with implementing and following through on plans. What I'm not great at is adapting to necessary changes to the plan. I have been known to be spontaneous and to change direction mid-stream, but I need to whine about it first. (Grades: A for planning and for executing the plan; D for adapting to changes.)

A love of a challenge. Eleanor Roosevelt said "Do one thing every day that scares you." Even though I've pushed myself out of my comfort zone many times, I'm far from the most risky person I know. I avoid heights. I take the safest route down the ski hill. I can't look over the edge of the cliff. I can't even look out the window of a tall building without my palms sweating profusely. I once took a drive up Mt. Evans (a death-defying drive along a teeny-tiny crumbling road up to 13000 feet) and my feet sweated. And yet give me an athletic challenge and I'll take it. Okay, not all challenges. I'm sounding tough. If it involves riding a bike, though, it's a no-brainer. So it's a good thing for me that the Ironman bike leg (112 miles) is 80% of the entire 140.6 miles--it especially makes the run more tolerable. (Grade: B)

Tough mental fitness. I have to admit: I sometimes find the anticipation of an athletic challenge more exciting than doing it. The idea of a marathon jazzes me. And yet 18 miles into a training run, I have suffered panic attacks. Ditto for long rides. Crying on a climb really screws up my breathing. I can see an evolution, though, in my mental toughness. Things changed significantly for me when I moved to Colorado and my choices were to either hang with my tough friends or stay home. I chose to hang. Oh yeah, I still have work to do. This work mostly involves my self-talk, which I've written about before. Part of my Ironman race plan includes mantras I can pull out when the going gets tough. I suspect I'll be relying on my mantras a LOT. (Grade: B/B-)

Efficiency of movement. A race is a contest in getting from one point to another in as little time as possible. And in Ironman that means continuous forward motion for many many hours. Veering off course on the swim, or zig-zagging from one side of the road to the other on the bike or run, uses precious energy (see below). If I happen to encounter a roadblock or lose sight of shore on the swim, I need to be able to correct my path as quickly and with as little effort as possible. I'm preparing for this with some fun strength training this winter--exercises designed to improve my balance, lateral movement, and explosive power. (Grade: C. I loooooooove going forward. I don't enjoy so much anything that takes me backward or sideways.)

Using energy economically. Completing endurance events is not unlike Christmas shopping: if I blow my reserves in the first store, I have nothing left for last-minute gift ideas or people I forgot to buy for. Likewise, if I go out too fast or too hard early in the race, I might as well, at best, kiss my time goal goodbye. At worst, I risk a DNF (did not finish). Training is a daily exercise in energy budgeting. It involves not only wise pacing but also eating well before I'm hungry and drinking well before I'm thirsty. That's hard! I've spent the past four decades doing exactly the opposite: eating and drinking only after my body tells me to. If I eat and drink like that during Ironman, it'll be too late. (Grade: C-. I need major improvement on this one. Apparently, I have not learned from my mistakes. Each time I run I'm convinced I can keep up the blistering pace I set at the start when I'm fresh and excited.)

A heightened awareness of my body. Anticipating and preventing hunger and thirst is only part of what I'm aware of when training and racing. I mentally monitor things like my heart rate, breathing, perceived exertion, and internal temperature. And I've learned to tell the difference between what's within my normal range and what's not. I've also become pretty accurate at predicting not only my overall finishing time, but my times for the swim, bike, and run. And yes, I have time goals for Ironman, but I'm not sharing them. :-) At least not just yet. (Grade: A)

With the right training and preparation, my grades will improve. They may suffer temporarily, though, as Steve and I make our way through the 600 dozen Christmas cookies my mom sent. Thanks Mom! The spice cookies are particularly impossible to resist!

I cannot go to school today...

...said little Peggy Ann McKay. I have the measles and the mumps, a gash, a rash, and purple bumps. Remember that poem by Shel Silverstein? It swims in my head this time of year. Yes, little Peggy magically healed once she realized it was Saturday, but her list of ailments sometimes echoes what I hear from others nowadays. 'Tis the season of germ-trading, staying home so as not to infect others, cancelling social engagements because constant sniffling at the dinner table is a real buzz-kill. This was my week. What began as a simple, not-uncommon dry throat on Tuesday evening evolved into a full-blown sore throat and fatigue by Wednesday morning.

No one likes being sick. Everyone complains, wishes it wasn't happening. Many of you, though, handle it much better than I do. I become nearly impossible to live with when the slightest tickle invades my throat: I stomp around the house huffing and puffing about the injustice of it all. I awfulize the situation: I'll never be well again, I moan pathetically. No no, you all have Christmas without me--I don't want to get you sick, too. I might as well cancel Ironman because I can't train like this. Woe is me!

Blessedly, this does not happen very often. In fact, the last time it did was 2005. I remember it distinctly--I literally could not move off the couch for a whole week in Jaunary. This time around, I can move off the couch, and already the evil germs are vacating the residence they've taken up in my body.

Phew. Crisis averted.

The bummer in all of this, like many of you experience, is that life goes on regardless of how we feel. My clients' needs don't go away just because I'm sick. Time doesn't stop and wait for me to get well. Because work could not give this week, something else had to. And that something else was my workout schedule. GASP. When I realized Wednesday morning that my body would absolutely not allow me to hit the gym before work, I sulked. I began to mentally calculate the fitness I would lose if I skipped Wednesday...and Thursday...and, gulp, the weekend, too? This panic lasted for all of about two minutes. Because once I let go of the need to adhere to my training plan despite it being the last thing my body wanted and needed, I fell immediately back to sleep. That extra hour of sleep Wednesday morning did more for me than the strength training session I had planned.

So guess what? I can back off! Lo and behold, things do not fall apart with a missed workout or two. Ironman training is an exercise in long-term thinking and big-picture planning. Sacrificing next week's health for this week's workouts makes zero sense, even this early in my training. I'm convinced that nothing happens without reason, that there are no coincidences. I was exposed to this bug because it was the only way for my body to get what it needed this week: to chill out.

I hope you are staying healthy and strong this germ season. Take care of yourselves, everyone.

Pausing for gratitude

'Tis the season, right? I like to give thanks everyday, not just this time of year. And yet Thanksgiving is such an obvious invitation to outwardly express what I am grateful for, Ironman-training-related and otherwise, so here I go.

I am first and foremost grateful for my supportive and understanding loved ones. They all would say "of course" but I don't want to ever assume that this is a given, to ever take them for granted. Triathlon, especially Ironman training, is a selfish pursuit. And yet Steve and my family know how important it is to me and how happy I am while pursuing it. Thus, they indulge me in what can seem on the outside like an obsession. They ask how it's going. They show interest. They listen to my stories. They are genuinely curious. And they are my biggest fans when I need them most. Steve drives me to races at 5 am and sits by quietly while I carefully and with single-minded compulsion gather and arrange my race gear. And then he maneuvers the race course, battling the other hundreds of spectators for the perfect photo. My other family members brave the rain and sun and the madhouse that is a triathlon race to applaud my efforts and see me as I cross the finish line. And then they all hug me and don't complain about how grimy and stinky I am. They aren't the ones who signed up for the race, and yet, by my request, they sacrifice during race season. Yes, I am clear: the unwavering support of those who have to live with my training schedule day-in and day-out is a crucial ingredient to my success.

I am grateful to have the time to train. This is due in no small part to the nature of my work. I do what I love and I work for a company that values and celebrates its employees' passions. I am able to fit training into my work schedule without anyone looking over my shoulder. Come March and beyond, I will be putting into Ironman training the equivalent of a part-time job. This will require long workouts before and after work. I am grateful that my job allows me to do this.

I am grateful to have the resources to work toward my goals. There are many, so I'll honor them by simply listing them. My massage therapist. The pool. My tri coach. The active-minded community that surrounds me. Books. Websites. The right gear. Lakes and reservoirs. Flexibility. Freedom. My yoga mat. Desire. Discipline. Knowing my limits. Knowing when I'm stopping short of my limits. The ability to break through false barriers. Miles and miles of paths and trails. Never forgetting what's most important.

I am grateful for my wide, strong training network. Having this network helps in so many ways. I spare my friends and loved ones constant talk of nutrition, heart rates, and race gear. I have an endless supply of training partners. I gain valuable advice on all things triathlon. I have people with whom I can commiserate--people who also have suffered whatever it is I'm complaining about. And not only will they empathize--they'll one-up my gripe with their own just to help me feel better. :)

I am grateful for my health. Despite not being superstitious, I always knock on wood when I express appreciation for having been free of serious injury and illness. Some days, I am in disbelief at how my body doesn't revolt against what I put it through. Yes, I take very good care of myself. And yet I have friends who take very good care of themselves and still suffer debilitating injuries. Some things are out of our control. I am conscious of how I treat my body, and I also know that I am lucky.

I am grateful that people care about my "hobby." I am always deeply touched when others inquire about my training, how it's going, what I'm doing now, etc. Of course I am more than happy to oblige their curiosity :) and I make a distinct point to thank them for asking.

I am grateful that you are reading this journal. I have said it here before and it bears repeating: even if you don't write comments, I know you're reading and caring about my journey. That alone is enough. Thank you.

What are you grateful for, at this and any time of year? Please share with us!

Between-season? Pre-season? Ironman season? One sure thing: It's holiday season!

Ironman is 220 days away. Not that I'm counting. Seriously, I'm not, yet. I just put that in there because I couldn't think of a better way to start this post. :) But now that we're on the subject, 220 days seems like a long time, doesn't it? It also means that Ironman training is right around the corner. Starting December 1st, my coach has me swimming, biking, and running at least twice a week each. As well as doing strength training, yoga, etc. Right now, I'm doing about 7 hours a week of activity. This will increase to 10-12 hours in a week or so. Thanksgiving will be my last "non-training" week until July. All hail Thanksgiving!!

So I'm not quite sure where I am now--hence the title of this post. My anxiety about "taking November off" subsided on November 2nd and since then I have officially fallen in love with my gut-driven workout schedule. What my workouts this month have lacked in quantity has been more than made up for in quality. Way back in September, I outlined my plans for this between-season, so I wanted to reflect on how I've managed.

• hit the yoga mat, at least twice a week: thanks in no small part to my dear friend Jen at work who holds classes in the office once a week, this has been easy to do. Her classes, coupled with the great DVDs I have at home, have opened the joints and loosened the muscles a bit.
• start strength training again: I think I've found the cure to my intense aversion toward strength training. It's a class at my gym called "bootcamp" but it really should be called "get-over-your-big-bad-athlete-self-exercise-in-humility." Rather than weights, we use straps, our own body weight, steps and inclines, plyometrics, and anaerobic intervals to recruit the entire body. Not a single muscle is allowed to slack off.
• do the mental and psychological planning for Ironman: Yes! This is what this journal is all about. You all have played a large part in this, as have my books, articles, and online communities. I have connected with several other gals doing Coeur d'Alene and we have plans to train together.
• experiment with race and recovery nutrition: I never thought I'd say this: I love Gu. Gu is that otherwise-disgusting goopy stuff that athletes suck down in races. It's a 100-calorie injection of sugar and energy. That I can tolerate this stuff is good news for Ironman training and the race itself--according to Ironman veterans, I should be prepared for my digestive system to revolt against anything I have to chew.
• keep up my regular massages: Kathy, my massage therapist, probably has been enjoying this break from my hard-core training as much as I have. I still see her every two or three weeks, but rarely does she need to bring out the big guns to steamroll the lumps and knots in my muscles. Massage has been a life-saver for me--the reason I recover so quickly from 100-mile rides and half-marathons is because of Kathy's TLC. We have a pretty simple relationship: I break down my body, she puts it back together. And she does it without complaining about how difficult I make her job--at least out loud. :)
• enjoy not hitting it hard day in and day out: Check, check, and check.
• read relevant articles and books: My Ironman binder already is busting at the seams. If I'm not careful I will obsess. I imagine it's similar to preparing to have children--there are so many books full of what I'm sure is terrific advice on what to do, what not to do, potential problems that may arise, etc, that it's easy to get overwhelmed. To say nothing of the competing information naturally borne from this person and that person having different experiences and opinions on what works. I have found a few trusted sources and I stick with those. And then for final approval I run it all by the most trustworthy source I have: my body.
• read for pleasure: I have rediscovered the joys of reading for no reason other than I love it. Since the 2010 season ended, I have devoured the Millennium trilogy by Stieg Larsson (you've all heard of "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and it's two sequels), "Open" by Andre Agassi, "101 Places Not to See Before You Die" by Catherine Price, and "As Good as Gold" by Kathryn Bertine. All of which I would highly recommend. I'm currently looking for the next great read--any suggestions?

And so now approaches the holiday season. I love everything about this time of year. The shopping, the family visits, the lights, the energy in the air, the time off work, the planned and impromptu get-togethers, the expressions of love. I hope your holiday season is off to a bright, warm start and continues to nurture you in ways you deserve. I'll be in touch throughout the season--I hope you do the same. And please send book recommendations!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

This or that

Earlier this week it turned quite wintry here at home. I went for an early-morning run despite the frosty temps and light snowy-drizzle. I did eventually warm up, but it wasn't pleasant at first. The bitter cold brought to mind a day this past summer when I experienced the opposite problem: a long bike ride in triple-digit temperatures under an unforgiving sun. And then I wondered: if forced to choose between the two, what would I do? So indulge me in some fun meanderings on This or That.

Hot or cold? I'm choosing hot. I know the argument: You can always put on more layers to get warm, but there's only so much you can do to cool off. Fortunately, I have been blessed with an efficient internal cooling system, so extreme heat bothers me less than it probably should. (But only when working out. If I'm sweating, my heart rate had better be above 100.) On the other hand, cold weather is paralyzing. I naturally run cold, so add to that a frigid breeze and it equates to misery. I have too many memories of shivering on the bike after being caught in sudden hailstorms woefully underdressed. And what if I'm caught in the blazing heat? I find I'm never too far from shade and icy-cold beverages.

Up or down? My bike and I have summited many of Colorado's mountain passes. In fact, I've traversed more on two wheels than on four. When I talk about my summertime climbs, most people respond with "Wow--you must love coming down!" Yes, I most certainly do!! But not as much as I love going up. Here's why. Climbing and descending are both exercises in maintaining control--control that prevents me from either falling over or riding off the edge. I feel more in control going up than I do coming down. And what my legs can do for two non-stop hours never ceases to amaze me. Plus, the impressed looks on the faces in passing cars is pretty cool.

Wind or grade? Many of you know I used to live in Kansas. In addition to being the bug belt, Kansas and its fellow plains states are infamous for unrelenting wind. We're not talking gentle breezes. I will never forget riding in a crosswind so strong it literally almost blew me over. I have ridden in headwinds so fierce I have cried. Wind can be scary, especially when coming off of Coal Bank Pass into Durango at 40 mph. All it takes is a gust to grab my front wheel and I'm flat on my back. For all of these reasons and more, give me a 12% grade over a 12 mph headwind anyday.

Not enough food or not enough water? I have run out of both on rides and runs so I know all too well that not having either is a HUGE bummer. And potentially dangerous. So this one's a toughie. Not enough water and I risk dehydration, overheating, and heat stroke. Without enough food and I bonk, an experience I can best describe as out-of-body, even though I'm pretty sure I've never really had one of those. Blood sugar levels plummet so quickly it puts me into some kind of weird dream state. Legs get jello-y, heart starts to race, hands start to shake. It can take a day to fully recover from a serious episode. So, would I rather run out of food or water? I'd rather call home for a ride.

Road or bike path? Road, hands down. The activity on the bike paths is a bit too unpredictable for my tastes. Squirrels darting across the path, dogs chasing after them, kids learning to ride bikes, walkers out for a leisurely stroll. None of them are on the lookout for passing cyclists. And I don't really expect them to be. It's easy enough to leave the paths to them all and take to the roads, where drivers do look out for me, most of the time. And when they don't, it's pretty easy to predict what they will do. There are more rules on the road. I find that if I act like a car while riding, we all get along just fine.

Hot tub or steamroom? We have both at my gym, and a soak or steam is heavenly, especially after a tough workout. If I could have only one on a deserted island, I'd have to pack the steamroom. While I do find relief aiming the hot tub jets on trouble spots, I like even more lying down in the eucalyptus-scented steam and letting all the uck seep from my pores. (Sorry if that's gross.) This is the one exception to my-heart-rate-must-be-above-100 sweating rule.

Wine or beer? I am a wine girl at heart. But when it comes to a post-workout treat, I grab a beer. It's cold, bubbly, and a bit more fruity than wine and, thus, is a more refreshing "recovery" drink. The beer tastes even better if I'm sitting on a sunny patio with my friends and loved ones. And I'm certain that, too, helps me recover more quickly.

What would you choose? Share with us here your choices on the above or add your own!

Things I could do without

A while back, I wrote on the things that delight me about training. Although not an exhaustive list, they are things I reflect on while training, particularly when I'm outdoors on the bike or on a run. Every day I get to engage in my favorite activities, I am grateful for all the things I mentioned and more.

Along with the things that remind me how fortunate I am, I can't help but think of other less pleasant things. These are things I could do without while training. The list is not long, yet I encounter them frequently enough that they're hard to forget. Here we go, in no particular order.

Ego. My own, as well as those of others. Ego shows up in many ways. Sometimes it's obvious. Go to a race expo and you'll hear Ego boasting about its latest athletic achievement, one-upping other Egos within earshot. Often Ego gives advice when none has been requested or is even desired. It typically starts out with "you should..." Ego is tricky, though, and tries to masquerade as what seems on the surface to be normal workout behavior. Ego speeds up that cyclist in front of me just so a girl won't pass him. It launches that swimmer in the lane next to me into a 500-meter sprint warm-up. It showboats as the competitive energy I feel in the weight room. Sadly, ego is everywhere.

Excuses.

If you are what you do, then when you don't, you aren't. ~Wayne Dyer

Several years ago I started paying very close attention to how I talked about my training, both to myself and to others. Along the way, I've become keenly aware of when I'm giving reasons and when I'm giving excuses. You know the difference. Reasons are well-considered, rationale explanations for my choices because I have weighed the consequences. Excuses, on the other hand, exist for one reason only: to protect my ego. They're empty "outs" I have at the ready in case someone asks how my run was--that run I ditched because the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was run. Well. Let me dig deep down...hang on...and see what comes up...Oh yes, here it is. Ahem. It was too cold. (Really. With all the space-age windstopping, water-repelling, snow-squall-destroying material sitting in my dresser waiting to prove itself...it was too cold? Really.) See, "it was too cold" is a reason when I risk frostbite or frozen lung. It's an excuse when I'm unmotivated and just want to lounge on the couch. And if that's the case, I need to own up to it. To do anything else is self-deception. Sure, others may not know what's my reason and what's my excuse. But *I* do. This, for sure, is my homework for the rest of my life.

Things thrown at me. Okay, admittedly this has happened to me only once, on the bike. And although the object was thrown in my direction, it didn't actually hit me. But had it hit me just that once, well, let's not play "what if" games. The reality is, I escaped untouched, probably because of my lightning-quick reflexes. Or luck. Or perhaps a little of both. The object of interest was a half-full beer bottle. I felt the breeze on my face as it whizzed by my ear. And then I saw the pickup from which it was hurled, racing away. I was in such disbelief at what had just happened I didn't have the wherewithal (to say nothing of the leg strength) to chase the truck down for the license plate number. Oh well. I tell myself they weren't aiming at me...they were just committing a random act of littering. And I happened to be there. Delusional? Perhaps. But it's the version of the story that upholds my faith in the basic goodness of people.

Being "buzzed." I'm not talking the kind induced by a nice glass of wine or three. I'm talking the kind caused by a rude driver who either (1) doesn't see me riding my bike on the shoulder, or (2) does in fact see me riding my bike on the shoulder and prioritizes his getting to his destination over the safety of both of us. Some drivers have come so close I can hear their cell phone conversation. Laws in Colorado require drivers to pass cyclists only if they can safely give 3 feet between car and bike. Fortunately, 99% of Colorado drivers obey this law. The other 1% of the time is a huge bummer. And scary.

Flagrant disregard for the rules of the road and/or bike path. I also have a bone to pick with my fellow cyclists. You know who you are. You ride three abreast when there's no shoulder. You don't signal when turning. You expect to have the right of way. C'mon, don't give drivers any more reason to be cranky at bicyclists. Enough drivers operate under the belief that cyclists take up too much precious pavement as it is (see "Being 'buzzed'" above). Don't confirm that by being a jerk. This disregard doesn't happen just on the streets...I've come within inches of colliding with other cyclists on the bike path (of all places), simply because they've failed to tell me they're "on the left." Easy enough to do, so please do it.

Bugs. I used to live in the "bug belt," otherwise known as southeast Kansas. I didn't know it before I moved there, but it quickly became very apparent. So when I moved here to Denver, I was excited not only about the climate, temperature, and abundant sunshine, I was also looking forward to being able to walk through grass in sandals without fearing chiggers. (If you don't know, you don't want to ask.) Ha. Here's a newsflash: We got bugs in Denver. Lots of them. I didn't really notice them until my first bike ride along the Platte River at dusk. I came home with thousands of new "freckles" all over. Except these freckles came off in the shower. YUCK. My new strategy: breathe through the nose and don't wear that sticky lip balm.

Comparison. My wise friend Eric is known here at work for saying "comparison is a form of self-loathing" (or something pretty close). This Thing I Could do Without is a sibling of Ego. I don't do well with competition, even if friendly. I compete with one person: myself. I compete against my race times from last year, with my performance on last week's bike ride, with how many push-ups I did last time. I'm uncomfortable when others compare themselves to me. Some friends will tell me they do better when competing against someone else. Fine. I'd just prefer that someone else to not be me.

Please, feel free to add your own to this list!!

Bye-bye October...

It's Halloween night. Steve and I just spent the evening with my brother James, his wife Heather, and my nephew Dylan, on his (Dylan's) first "real" Halloween, the first one when he went trick-or-treating. Family time is some of the most valuable hours I spend. And as a result, my planned run dropped on the priority list--all the way off the list, actually. It was much more important that I share this experience with my loved ones than it was to fulfill my training plan. This is one of the major benefits of this off-season: I can make choices like this without anything suffering. Instead, I thrive.

Being October 31st, I wanted to reflect on my post from October 1st. I wasn't sure how this month would turn out. A month ago, I was hopeful, and admittedly skeptical, that this October would be different. I pledged that I would shift my mindset, that I would think differently about this autumn than I have about previous autumns, that I would approach this time of rest and rejuvenation as exactly that. And you know what? It worked. I came across another quote just the other day that is very timely.

I don't have any more bad days. I have good days and great days. ~Lance Armstrong

Surviving (and thriving through) cancer most definitely changed Armstrong's outlook on life as well as how he lives it. I can change those things, too. What I like about his words is that he suggests that it's all about language, about what we call things. What we call things determines how we see them. It's a skill called framing. I teach it and practice it daily in my work. Funny how I don't always apply it to my life. But it's there for me, waiting for me to use it. And it is powerful. Is it a tough workout? Maybe. Or it's a workout that will make me stronger. Is it insufferable pain? Maybe. Or it's my body telling me to knock it off, a sign I've done enough, too much even. Is it an impossible climb? Maybe. Or it's a chance to prove something to myself.

So this year I re-framed what October meant to me. Rather than being my time to fall apart, I told myself it is my time to focus on other things, to nurture this amazing body that does so much, to honor all the things I am capable of by doing much less of it. 

This certainly was possible only with your help and support. The response to my October 1st post was overwhelming. On this site, in person, over email, and in spirit, I heard and felt you. Your comments, your commiseration, your optimism, your reflections, your stories--all are invaluable and I will carry them with me through the rest of this "between-season" (what I'm now calling the "off-season"), through Ironman training, on great days, and on bad--I mean good--days. (Thanks, Lance. This will be my new MO--looking at days as good or great, nothing else.)

I am excited for the rest of fall and for winter. Today also marks the last day of my structured training plan until Ironman training begins...as I mentioned in an earlier post, I will stay active in November by relying primarily on intuition and how I feel when I wake up each morning and when I leave work each afternoon. Nothing else will tell me I must get out and swim, bike, or run. Nothing else, that is, except you all. You don't know this, but you all are my "accountability coaches." Yes, I am accountable to myself first and foremost. At the same time, knowing that you are reading, caring, and responding, helps drive me to be and do nothing short of my best.

Thank you.

How are you all doing this fall? What are you happy about? What are you struggling with? Please use this space to share with us all.

My addiction

I have a confession to make. I've had a habit for many years that I can't break. It's a necessary something that gets me through each and every day. Without it, I would bottom out. I find infinite satisfaction in feeding this habit and when others offer me more of it, I consume voraciously. I am a quote-junkie. I collect the wisdom of others like my mom collects those state quarters. I can't get enough. I have them posted everywhere within sight: on my computer, at home, in my car, in my planner, in my office.

I go for short, concise quips that capture the human experience so precisely and with such humility and authenticity. Now is the time I'm beginning to compile quotes to keep me inspired through Ironman training. I will carry some with me while I race. So I wanted to share some with you. And please share your favorite quotes with us all here.

• Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself. ~unknown
• To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did. ~unknown
• The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is today. ~Chinese proverb
• Fall seven times, get up eight. ~Japanese proverb
• The difficulty of success does not relieve one of the obligation to try. ~Bill Clinton
• Don't audit life. ~unknown
• I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing. ~Anais Nin
• The shell must break before the bird can fly. ~Tennyson
• What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
• Leap and the net will appear. ~Zen saying
• Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly. ~proverb
• Knowing others is wisdom. Knowing yourself is enlightenment. ~Lao-Tzu
• Always be a first-rate version of yourself, rather than a second-rate version of somebody else. ~Judy Garland
• Think with the whole body. ~Taisen Deshimaru
• Have you begun today what you wish to be tomorrow? ~unknown
• I was going to change my shirt, but I changed my mind instead. ~Winnie the Pooh
• Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one's courage. ~Anais Nin
• If we do not change direction, we are likely to end up where we are headed. ~Chinese proverb
• I would rather regret the things I have done than the things I have not. ~Lucille Ball
• Act the way you'd like to be and soon you'll be the way you act. ~Leonard Cohen
• Forever is composed of nows. ~Emily Dickinson
• Until never comes. ~Ron Luyet
• Whether you think you can or think you can't, you're right. ~Henry Ford
• I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work. ~Thomas Edison
• We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are. ~Max de Pree
• One of these days is none of these days. ~Henri Tubach
• Storms make trees take deeper roots. ~Claude McDonald
• Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
• The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change. ~Carl Rogers
• It's not who you are that holds you back; it's who you think you're not. ~William James
• Come to the edge, he said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, he said. They came. He pushed them...and they flew. ~Guillaume Apollinaire
• They may be strikeouts to some, but to me, every one of them was nearly a home run. ~Mickey Mantle
• The best way for your dreams to come true is to wake up. ~Paul Valery

Take November off

That's what my tri coach just told me. "Take November off." ACK. I don't do "off" well. I don't know how. Every ounce of my being cries out against it. And yet--SIGH--I know she's right. My desire for order and structure and predictability, my discipline, my tendency to make a checklist for everything, my preference for schedules--all of this will serve me well next year during the height of Ironman training. Now, however, they risk becoming liabilities. If I'm not careful, I will burnout before Ironman training even begins.

Many people would embrace sanctioned downtime, an order to take it easy. We're all so busy I could sell my month off. Me? I found her advice stressful, until I realized she's not telling me to do nothing. Rather, she's saying that I need a month away from the do-exactly-xyz-for-this-long-on-that-day regimen. A month? I can do this, right?

I'm the first to admit that I can become over-reliant on my schedule--whether it's for work, for training, or at home. For me, a schedule creates predictability and that feels safe. It also leaves little room for spontenaeity and last-minute changes. Unexpected rainstorms? A broken chain? Even--gasp--an injury? Forget it--they're not part of the plan. And yet they have to be. Yes, effective training requires adherence to a concrete plan. It also requires the ability to be resilient, to assume there will be unexpected snags and to bounce back from them without taking it to mean the sky is falling. This, precisely, is my work now: to practice not being tied to a piece of paper that has the next 48+ hours spelled out for me.

What is a month, after all? November is 30 days, taken one day at a time. I've learned well that training for and achieving my athletic goals requires one workout at a time, one lap at a time, one stride at a time. Surely I can put aside the training schedule for 30 days and rely instead on intuition and what I feel like doing on a given day. After all, when my daily actions are dictated by my Ironman training plan, I will still need to listen to intuition and what my body tells me it needs.

Done. For now.

Today was the Denver Rock 'n Roll half-marathon. This marks the official end to my 2010 race season. Rather than being sad as I have been in years past, I am quite happy. I am excited for the upcoming period of rest and healing. This is primarily because my body is hurting. But first, the report from the race.

Jacquline and I ran together the whole morning. Before I continue, I want to give a public shout-out to Jac, who set her personal best time for the 13.1 distance. Congratulations my friend! She did it without falter and feeling great. As always, it was a fun race precisely because Jac was with me.

It was a typical race for me: start feeling strong and fast, suffer a dip around mile 9, and finish feeling as strong as I did at the start and at my fastest pace. The route was beautiful, a perfect representation of Denver: after starting in Civic Center Park by the capital building and the City & County building, the first 3 miles took us through the heart of downtown past the Pepsi Center, where the Nuggets and the Avalanche play, and Coors Field, home of the Rockies. We then headed up to City Park, a massive green space in the middle of the city that houses our Zoo, the Museum of Nature & Science, a golf course, and countless trails, paths, and picnic areas. Then we wound our way through some historic neighborhoods to Cheesman Park where you can find the Botanic Gardens. We finished back in Civic Center Park, passing the Denver Art Museum along the way. All of this with bluebird skies overhead and the snowcapped mountains as a backdrop. The route organizers did the city proud and we overhead many out-of-towners commenting on how magnificent the route was.

Being part of the "Rock 'n Roll" series of races, we had 11 live bands entertaining us along the way, accompanied by cheerleaders from the local schools and the best volunteers manning the aid stations. Running with Jacquline through some of my favorite parts of Denver helped me forget temporarily exactly how ready I am for the season to be done. Instead, I had a blast.

And then I got home. Minute by minute I felt my lower body stiffen up, creakiness settling into every nook and cranny. I crept into an Epsom salt bath and enjoyed soaking the aches away as my cat sampled the strange pink-colored water. Then I crept to the shower. During my creeping I had a realization: I am a much better runner when I'm also swimming and biking. During the half-ironman in August, I felt positively as fresh as a daisy when I started my 13.1-mile run after swimming 1.2 miles and biking 56. And the next day? I could have done it again.

The 13.1 miles today were a wholly different story. My training has largely targeted running since late August. My focused cross-training is on hiatus. And I'm paying for it. Cross-training definitely makes me a stronger runner. I don't think it works the other way around--that is, I don't think running helps my swimming and biking. But in training as well as in racing, my body does well with variety. Triathlon recruits my entire body--both the major muscle groups and all those hidden supporting ones. I'm a stronger athlete overall when I'm training for all three events.

I was quite surprised by this insight, that I'd rather run a half-marathon after several hours of swimming and biking than do just the running. This must bode well for Ironman training, right?

On another note, I wanted to give an update on my "October experiment" as I'm calling it. It's October 17th, past the half-way point in the month. And this October is truly different than others. This is due in no small part to YOU all, to all of your comments on this site and to me in person. Thank you for empathizing, for commiserating, for supporting. I know many of you struggle with this time of year, too.

In recent Octobers, my energy was largely spent around trying to prevent or at least delay the inevitable: the end of summer and, thus, the end of the race season. This year I find myself embracing season's end. As much as it hurts to hurt, I am listening this time to the pleas my body is making for rest, for easing up, for recovery.

I must enter Ironman training strong, healthy, and injury-free. And this gives me a whole new appreciation for this dormant period. I'm no longer fighting nature and her tendencies. And that is tremendously liberating.

Things that delight me

Yesterday was a long day at work. It began well before sunrise and ended as dusk was falling, and a lot happened in between. And I still wanted to get in a bike ride. At one time I would have made excuses for why a post-work ride is exactly the thing not to do: It's too late, too dark, too cold. I'm too stressed, too tired, too hungry. False barriers, really. Now I remind myself that I'll actually feel worse if I skip the ride. And it never fails: I always always always feel better after a ride. My bike makes me happy. Yesterday was no exception. The air was crisp--the kind that tickles my lungs on a deep inhale. I did lap after lap at our local park and after an hour, everything was once again right with the world.

During my ride, I got to thinking about the other things about my training routine that delight me, that bring me peace, that provide immeasurable enjoyment. I think it's appropriate for me to reflect on them given that it's October and all. Here they are, in no particular order:

Rest. I just mentioned how movement, physical activity, especially the vigorous kind on the bike, is my medicine. And it is therapeutic precisely because I know when to stop moving. I have learned to appreciate the value of rest. Rest comes in many forms: whole days off, shorter swims, easier bike rides, restorative yoga. Rest feels luxurious right now; come spring, deliberate rest will be a crucial part of Ironman training.

How many people use our paths and parks. I get up early, both during the week and on the weekends. I often finish my weekday morning run before sunup. Despite the early hour, I'm not even the first one up--dozens have beat me to the trails. And they only get more populated as the day wears on. Families, couples, friends, owners and their pets are everywhere on the paths and in the parks at all hours of the day and well into the night. The parks and trails teem with energy and this aliveness is contagious.

Kind drivers. I am a very safe cyclist. I always wear my helmet, I obey traffic laws, and I am vigilant about my surroundings. Still, regardless of how safely I ride, I am keenly aware that at any moment, a car could take me out. And yet I refuse to let this keep me off the roads. This is thanks to the drivers out there who look out for cyclists and also obey traffic laws. Colorado has some of the most bicycle-friendly laws in the country. And I always make a point to clearly thank drivers for following them.

A long climb. I've been fortunate to have ridden some of the most beautiful mountain passes in the US. They're also some of the most relentless and challenging. This past summer, on Ride the Rockies, I did my longest, toughest climb: 24 miles with grades topping out at probably 15%. What I love about a long climb: the rhythmic pedaling, the slowing of time, inching past breathtaking vistas, the sharp focus preventing me from riding off the edge, reaching the top.

A screaming descent. After a long climb comes a long descent. That 24-mile climb? It rewarded us with a nearly equally-long drop into the next town. We were blessed with smooth roads, long straightaways, and little traffic. What took over three hours to go up took little more than 30 minutes to come down. What a rush.

Breathtaking views at 11000 feet. 'Nuff said.

My yoga mat. My mat is peace, nonjudgment, compassion, nurturing. Too many days apart and my muscles start to protest. I find release on the mat that I achieve nowhere else. An hour on the mat is enough to reset the world.

Please share what delights you, whether or not you're training for something!

Taking training on the road

I spent the weekend in San Antonio with three of my very best girlfriends--Lisa, Jenn, and Diane. We've been friends since 7th grade. Every year, we pick a destination and meet up for a long weekend. And I return feeling refreshed, renewed, and nurtured.

I am not a light packer, and this weekend was no exception. Many years ago, I used to be able to get by with a small carry-on for a weekend trip. These days, however, my portable training equipment is my constant travel companion. So, off to San Antonio I went, armed with running shoes and gear, the Garmin GPS, the yoga mat and clothes. Fortunately, it's relatively easy to track down a yoga studio and the class schedule. With websites such as mapmyrun.com it's also quite simple to chart a running route in a new location. I even found a website that lists all swimming pools that are open to the public and have adult lap swim hours. If I'm driving somewhere, either for work or for play, I bring my bike. Worst case scenario, if I happen to be stuck in a recreation desert or am sidelined by unhelpful weather, I run the treadmill in the hotel gym and do push-ups and Pilates in my room.

It's funny now what I see when I travel. Steve and I were on Catalina Island a couple of weeks ago. Sitting on the beach looking out at the bay, some people see a place where boats dock for a vacation. I see imaginary lap lines and calculate in my head how many meters from one end to the other. When I was in Carmel with my mom and stepdad in August, I saw the steep hilly streets downtown not as obstacles to overcome while shopping but rather as a great interval workout. When in Florida this past January, I knew I could trust my father to give me a good 5-mile run route--one with wide shoulders or sidewalks, little traffic, and good views.

Back in San Antonio, Lisa and I mapped out a 6-mile run along the riverwalk--a lovely way to see the city. This is one thing I love about running, biking, and working out in a foreign place: I get to experience the town as the locals do. I frequent their gyms or workout studios. I run their side streets. I bike their highways. I maneuver through their rush hour traffic and witness their weekend activities from a different vantage. I look like a local, doing things the locals do. I remember one work trip to Pueblo, Colorado this past spring. I brought my bike, excited to hit the open road for a long ride.

Well, I had to put the kibosh on those plans once I realized that the highway and railroad created this nearly impenetrable barrier to anything without a motor. So, instead I enjoyed a leisurely ride through the historic neighborhoods, admiring the Victorian homes and large lots. And once back at the hotel, I threw on my running shoes and attacked the hills on foot. Aha! I'll get my heart rate up one way or another.

The bottom line is this: if training is to be a part of my life, it must go with me wherever I go. I also must learn to improvise. Planning will get me only so far. Sometimes the run route is under construction or, as happened to me one May traveling through the Colorado mountains, winter dumps a late-season snowstorm on my bike ride. And if things don't go as planned, I've learned that it doesn't help to obsess over the training session I'm missing. Instead, I listen to the message being sent and take advantage of the forced rest. And catch up on my reading.

Is it really just a matter of mind over matter?

It's October 1st. That in and of itself is not terribly newsworthy. But this is a really big deal for me, and here's why: I tend to fall apart in October. Historically, October has been my toughest month. Physically, I'm feeling the effects of a reduced training load. Psychologically, I can't stand the increasingly later sunrise and earlier sunset. Emotionally, I want to eat my way past the blues to comfort. It's time to hibernate, my primitive brain tells me. No no, silly girl, my rational brain starts. You know that preparing for winter was once adaptive for survival and that now that we've evolved as a species to better control light and dark cycles blah blah blah... Thanks. That rationalization is so not helpful. I know all that, but I sure don't feel it.

Which wins? Both do. So I end up in a weird place, in some holding pattern between stellar days when I power through some spectacular workouts and days when all I want to do is fall asleep until spring.

Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. Yes, life is pretty great. And yet October continues to be my darkest month. I can look back on previous journals and see the clear pattern: as autumn descends, I lose motivation. Big time. Every year, at the same time. It's so predictable I could take it to Vegas. You'd think by now I'd have this figured out and know how to head it off at the pass. That I'd be able to anticipate it, have an alternate plan in place.

Maybe I have. Time will tell. Things are slightly different this October 1st. First, like much of the country, we've been having unseasonably warm temperatures. Right now, it's 80 degrees. We hit 90 several times this week, setting records. I've yet to pack away the shorts and sandals. It feels like July.

Second, I enter the "off-season" feeling better than I ever have. Even though training has dropped in volume, I am more active now than I have been at this time in past years.

Lastly, I have a half-marathon in two weeks. It's the first year I've had a race so late in the season. I like it--this might be my new plan from now on.

I got to thinking last night about how much our minds create the reality we live. Without going into deep philosophical meanderings that would max out the space on this site as well as my brain power, I wondered if I would sink into my regular pseudo-depression if I didn't know what day it was. How much does it matter that I see October 1st on the calendar? I do believe my bummer of a mood swing this time of year is partially physiology-based. Less light entering the eyes = change in hormones = change in mood. But beyond that, how much do I create my own suffering by saying "oh, here I go again, it's time to feel sad and stop working out and start eating a lot. After all, it's what I do."

Never have I told myself "this year will be different." Never in Octobers past have I turned darkness and the cold temps to my advantage--to work on technique in the pool, to work on strength in the gym, to rest my overworked muscles, to enjoy not melting in the summer heat.

This is my year to experiment. Let's see how much my thoughts impact my mood and my actions. I will report my progress here. In the meantime, enjoy your own autumns wherever you are!  

My Sources of Inspiration

Successful Ironman training and racing would not be possible without acknowledging people who have inspired me along the way. This post is solely about my athletic inspirations. This is not to dismiss or ignore friends and loved ones who have inspired my non-athletic pursuits--you are many and you are crucial!! I'm simply sticking with the purpose of this journal.

In no particular order...

Heather Soistmann. My amazing friend Heather completed her Ironman in 2009 with a smile on her face and glowing stories. Come to think of it, Heather does most things with a smile on her face and glowing stories. She is my constant reminder that life is to be embraced with passion, celebrated with aliveness, gobbled up with voracious appetite. Heather realizes that limitations are largely self-imposed, and she regularly crushes her own. Heather has been my Ride the Rockies partner and my triathlon buddy. She's watched me shine and picked me up when I've melted. And she was the first person I called when I got the official confirmation congratulating me on signing up for Ironman.

Jacquline Mericle. This dear friend is pure sunshine in my life. Jacquline and I often ride and run together. I'm the overly serious one; she's the one saying "hi" to everyone we see. Thank you, friend, for always reminding me that training is also meant to be FUN. Jacquline has mastered positive self-affirmations. She's learned that successful racing is largely about conquering self-talk. I'd like to think this has rubbed off on me.

Lisa Sippy. Lisa is my longest athlete friend. Although we've been friends for over 25 years, we have only recently started racing together. Lisa is an avid runner, having completed a few marathons and half-marathons, and many shorter races. Lisa and I have been each others' cheering-sections-from-afar, sharing training wins and woes. And in March of this year, we raced together for the first time. We met in Dallas for the Rock 'n Roll 1/2 marathon. Lisa immediately set a blistering pace and I was simply focused on keeping up with her. When we crossed the finish line, I was shocked at our time--my self-limiting belief had me finishing 15 minutes slower. It is because of running with Lisa that I shifted from seeing myself as "someone who runs" to "a runner." It's more than just a shift in semantics. Come January, we'll attempt to shave another 15 minutes off our time at a 1/2 marathon in Miami.

My Mother. When I was an awkward teenager struggling with all things awkward-teenager, my mother was a model of self-care. She always prioritized health and wellness, and she was my first official workout partner (remember step aerobics?). To this day, she keeps active and healthy, and we often walk or practice yoga together, activities that bring us even closer.

My Father. Some of my earliest memories of my dad are of him lacing up his shoes and heading out on a run. I can still smell the bubble gum he'd chew. He ran a marathon one year and did very well, and I can remember thinking that that was a pretty awesome accomplishment. Little did I know at the time I would be following in his footsteps years later. My father was always super fit--he had little body fat and was a health-food nut before there were health-food nuts. Even now, he's vigilant about his health and well-being.

My physical surroundings. I moved to Denver to be outside. It also helped that my older brother lives here. The mountains, the sunshine, the lakes, the valleys--they all scream for me to be outside. I do things on bike rides I would never be able to do on road trips. I see things on trails I would never see otherwise. So when my training plan tells me to take a 4-hour bike ride, I itch to get started and am kinda bummed when it's over.

To all of my sources of inspiration: a "thank you" doesn't quite suffice. I certainly would not be where I am without you.

Swimming as meditation

I love being in the water. Pool, stream, lake, reservoir--I find water therapeutic. My triathlon training has given me a whole new appreciation for the power of water. Race swimming is largely about technique, about moving my body as efficiently as possible through the tremendous resistance that water provides. Mastering effective technique has taken me hours in the pool, many laps, and risking swimmer's ear and pruny fingers.

I used to regard pool workouts as a necessary evil: something to do when I couldn't swim outside. Something to make me strong come race season. Something to bridge the time between when the reservoirs closed in fall and re-opened in the spring. Since my tri race season ended six weeks ago, the unexpected has happened: I can't wait to swim laps. My swimming has become my meditative activity. When I'm having a not-so-great day, like yesterday, I hop into the pool and my mood magically transforms.

Here's the thing about swimming. It's the one activity I do truly alone. I often bike and run with others, and that is one thing I love about biking and running. But by its nature, swimming is a solitary exercise. Even when I swim with friends or training partners, there's no talking mid-stroke because, well, you get the idea. This forced alone time gives me a chance to check out of life and apply focus to one thing: moving my body through the water. For an hour or more, I am concentrating on my breathing, my stroke, how my body feels in the water, the lap number, the distance covered so far. If my mind wanders, the water takes control. I lose count of laps (and being a numbers girl, that really bugs me), I slow, I sink, and I stop breathing.

The tremendous presence that swimming requires from me leaves me feeling renewed when I'm done. The meditative quality of my swim workouts makes them a perfect alternative for me. My desire for movement makes other forms of meditation, like sitting, quite unpleasant. And I wouldn't consider biking and running meditative activities for me--there are too many things to look at and friends to talk to. When I need isolation, quiet time, and to refocus, I hit the pool.

Here are two more benefits of swimming at this point during the season. First, being in the pool where the scenery doesn't change for as long as I am is great mental training for Ironman. Second, I think I'm becoming a better swimmer simply because I'm not trying to. Nice!

Training: Where I've been, where I'm going

There's something about being an Ironman-in-training. I approach all of my training sessions with a new attitude and appreciation. Every minute and every mile in the pool, on the bike, and on the run paths will pay dividends come June. Every missed workout or half-hearted effort may potentially derail my mission.

Since signing up for Ironman, I completed two races: Boulder Peak Olympic-distance triathlon and Boulder 70.3 (a half-ironman). Both races were different than any others, primarily because I didn't panic at the start. I found my breath! What a difference breathing makes. It particularly helps in the water. I met my goals in both races and finished feeling strong.

And now approaches the "off-season." For me this year, there really isn't much of one. My training has dropped a bit, as evidenced most clearly by the subsequent drop in my appetite (note to self: must also stop eating so much). I do have a half-marathon in October, so my running mileage is still up. Biking and swimming, however, are in "maintenance." I'm enjoying taking rides now "just cuz." My coach may beg to differ, but I figure I have until January before training starts to ramp up.

My plans for this temporary lull in an otherwise intense training schedule, in no particular order:

• hit the yoga mat, at least twice a week
• start strength training again (as much as I dread it)
• do the mental and psychological planning for Ironman
• experiment with race and recovery nutrition
• keep up my regular massages (some people say "oh how nice" but trust me, these are not "fluff and buff" rub-downs)
• enjoy not hitting it hard day in and day out
• interview house cleaners
• read relevant articles and books
• read for pleasure
• research Coeur d'Alene for family and friends
• travel

Today happens to be my day off--it is Steve's birthday. I planned it that way on purpose. I have come to relish my sanctioned days off. The days on are hard enough.

Off to celebrate with Steve. Happy Birthday sweetie!

Why a blog? Let's back up: Why Ironman?

Where to begin? I guess my quest for Ironman began many years ago. Well before I completed my first triathlon. Before I started swimming. Perhaps it was while I was falling in love with cycling. I just didn't know it at the time. Even back then, sometime in the early 1990s, something in the far reaches of my mind, where dreams catch their first breaths, I had an image of me as an athlete crossing the finish line at Ironman. I didn't share this with anyone. They'd all think I was crazy. I didn't even admit it to myself for several years--perhaps I believed the being-crazy-thing.

So I went along with life, finishing my PhD, finding my first real job, riding more and more miles every week, moving to this state and that. And something funny happened along the way. I began to surround myself with athletes, active people who liked pushing themselves. I also pushed myself, farther and harder.

And then I moved to Colorado, where "active" takes on a whole new meaning. Cycling morphed into multi-sport. If one sport is good, three are even better! Sprint triathlon opened the door to Olympic-distance races. As I became officially hooked on triathlon, I wanted to go farther and harder. I had a blast at my first half-iron-distance race. And I thought "this is good! The training was manageable...I can do this distance well...and have fun at the same time. This is good enough."

Or not. Here's the thing. I am wired for endurance. I'm not the fastest, but I can go seemingly forever. The longer I go, the better I feel. I crave 100-mile bike rides. A 3-mile run is a warm-up. A mile in the water is a "light" day.

So why Ironman? Because it's the next distance. Because I can't think of another accomplishment that will require more physical, mental, psychological, and emotional commitment and discipline. And that excites me.

So, then, why this blog? Because I need support. I can't do this alone. I have training partners here in Denver. I have my family and friends. And if you're reading this, you are my virtual training partner. Even if no one really reads this, I will pretend someone is and that will be enough to motivate me, especially on winter days when all I want to do is hibernate.

Thank you for joining me! I welcome your comments...let me know you're out there!