I'm not quite sure where to start. The past week has been simultaneously one of the most meaningful and difficult weeks I've lived. The reason I write about it here--in other words, the reason it's relevant to Ironman training--is that I took a week of "forced" rest. And the reason for the forced rest is that my father died.
Thus, I had to let go. I let go of my training schedule for the week. I let go of expectations of any physical activity. I let go of the need for regular sleep. I let go of finding the most nutritious meals, a hard enough task when the trip is planned. I let go of pretty much everything that didn't involve being fully present in the moment--present for my father's last days alive, present for my family, and present for myself.
And this letting go was the perfect training plan. It couldn't have been any other way.
So I return to "normal" life with heavy body and heavy heart. Dad was proud of my Ironman goal and supported me until his last day. I listed him in a previous post as one of my earliest athletic inspirations and his inspiration will carry me through the rest of training and most importantly on race day. Thanks, Dad, for teaching me the importance of self-care, discipline, and physical activity.
And thank you all for letting me share this news here.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Impermanence
I don't believe there are coincidences. I believe the universe sends us messages through things that only seem accidental. And it's our job to be open to and heed these messages. As I soak up my first few days of being 40, I am starting to throw away the stale cupcakes from the party, toss the dead flowers that graced the table, and file away the birthday emails. Cards and photos still cover the kitchen table--I can't bring myself to put those away just yet.
Restoring our home to it's original state, I started crafting my next post in my head. I wasn't sure exactly what to write until about 15 minutes ago when I received my daily Yoga Journal Insight email and was struck by its title. The message was about impermanence, specifically the impermanence of troubles, designed to help give perspective when things are rough.
I didn't read the entire message, not because I couldn't have benefited from it, but rather because I took this as a sign from the universe that this week is about watching out for becoming too attached to any one thing. Even that word "impermanence" has been floating around in my head all week, and once I read the title of the email, I instantly knew what to write here.
This is not the only week I've struggled with letting go. This was my challenge last week, and the week before, and the week before that, and...you get the point. And it's not just about detaching from fun, exciting, past events like birthdays and celebrations. Every time I have a great race or a stellar workout, a bummer of a run or swim reminds me things can change in a matter of hours. Every time I better my time or speed, I know that tomorrow's workout might not be so great. And yet I must remember, as the email message stated, this impermanence also applies to low points.
Here's what I learned this week: as much as Ironman training is an exercise in many small training successes leading up to one day, it also is an exercise in the fleeting nature of such successes. It's a delicate balance between appreciating how every workout, every rest day, and every meal furthers progress toward my overall goal, and not getting too hung up on any one particular workout, rest day, or meal. It's about knowing when to persevere and when to stop, when to hold on and when to let go, when to celebrate accomplishments and when to quietly check them off the list. And can't we say the same thing about life in general?
Restoring our home to it's original state, I started crafting my next post in my head. I wasn't sure exactly what to write until about 15 minutes ago when I received my daily Yoga Journal Insight email and was struck by its title. The message was about impermanence, specifically the impermanence of troubles, designed to help give perspective when things are rough.
I didn't read the entire message, not because I couldn't have benefited from it, but rather because I took this as a sign from the universe that this week is about watching out for becoming too attached to any one thing. Even that word "impermanence" has been floating around in my head all week, and once I read the title of the email, I instantly knew what to write here.
This is not the only week I've struggled with letting go. This was my challenge last week, and the week before, and the week before that, and...you get the point. And it's not just about detaching from fun, exciting, past events like birthdays and celebrations. Every time I have a great race or a stellar workout, a bummer of a run or swim reminds me things can change in a matter of hours. Every time I better my time or speed, I know that tomorrow's workout might not be so great. And yet I must remember, as the email message stated, this impermanence also applies to low points.
Here's what I learned this week: as much as Ironman training is an exercise in many small training successes leading up to one day, it also is an exercise in the fleeting nature of such successes. It's a delicate balance between appreciating how every workout, every rest day, and every meal furthers progress toward my overall goal, and not getting too hung up on any one particular workout, rest day, or meal. It's about knowing when to persevere and when to stop, when to hold on and when to let go, when to celebrate accomplishments and when to quietly check them off the list. And can't we say the same thing about life in general?
Saturday, February 12, 2011
40
Today is my 40th birthday! True to birthdays when I was younger, it's really been a birthweek. I was blessed to celebrate this special occasion surrounded by many loved ones.
I have been excited about this birthday ever since I turned 39. A good number of years ago I decided that I always wanted to be proud to tell people my age. As a result, my outlook on age changed instantly. This outlook goes beyond the cliche that "age is just a number." It's a number that represents so many things: choices, events, attitudes, successes, failures, likes, dislikes, thrills, embarassments. And back then I resolved to share with others the pretty and the ugly, to live in such a way that I'm not ashamed of my choices. Easy enough to do when it's something pleasant--a win, a success, an achievement. Tougher when it comes to stumbles and screw-ups. But what's the alternative--pretend they never happened? Too late. Rather, I find that honoring those less-than-graceful moments, looking upon them not with judgment, but with humanity and humility, serves me better.
Thanks to the encouragement from a dear friend of mine, Kelly, as I celebrate the onset of my 40s, I also am honoring and paying tribute to my 30s. In my excitement at looking toward the future, I can't forget that I'm leaving a decade that has been nothing short of magical. My 30s saw many momentous events. I got my first "real" job, and by that I mean a job that wasn't tied to graduate school in some way. I got serious about cycling. I stopped living someone else's dreams and began pursuing my own by moving to Colorado, my "soulplace." In Colorado, I found my perfect-fit profession and inherited amazing colleagues and friends in the process. I became an aunt and instantly fell in love with my nephew. And, of course, I met Steve.
My 30s also saw the birth of my triathlon "hobby." To help me with my athletic goals, one of Steve's gifts to me was what I'm calling my "chill the @#%! out bike"--a totally girly cruiser bike that that doesn't allow lycra or those clippety-clop bike shoes. Nope, this bike is a trip back in time and will bring me full circle to the days of my first ride with the streamers and basket. And don't forget the bell.
Now comes the tough decision: which color scheme??
I have been excited about this birthday ever since I turned 39. A good number of years ago I decided that I always wanted to be proud to tell people my age. As a result, my outlook on age changed instantly. This outlook goes beyond the cliche that "age is just a number." It's a number that represents so many things: choices, events, attitudes, successes, failures, likes, dislikes, thrills, embarassments. And back then I resolved to share with others the pretty and the ugly, to live in such a way that I'm not ashamed of my choices. Easy enough to do when it's something pleasant--a win, a success, an achievement. Tougher when it comes to stumbles and screw-ups. But what's the alternative--pretend they never happened? Too late. Rather, I find that honoring those less-than-graceful moments, looking upon them not with judgment, but with humanity and humility, serves me better.
Thanks to the encouragement from a dear friend of mine, Kelly, as I celebrate the onset of my 40s, I also am honoring and paying tribute to my 30s. In my excitement at looking toward the future, I can't forget that I'm leaving a decade that has been nothing short of magical. My 30s saw many momentous events. I got my first "real" job, and by that I mean a job that wasn't tied to graduate school in some way. I got serious about cycling. I stopped living someone else's dreams and began pursuing my own by moving to Colorado, my "soulplace." In Colorado, I found my perfect-fit profession and inherited amazing colleagues and friends in the process. I became an aunt and instantly fell in love with my nephew. And, of course, I met Steve.
My 30s also saw the birth of my triathlon "hobby." To help me with my athletic goals, one of Steve's gifts to me was what I'm calling my "chill the @#%! out bike"--a totally girly cruiser bike that that doesn't allow lycra or those clippety-clop bike shoes. Nope, this bike is a trip back in time and will bring me full circle to the days of my first ride with the streamers and basket. And don't forget the bell.
Now comes the tough decision: which color scheme??
Saturday, February 5, 2011
I didda bidda Idaho
For today's workout, I rode the Coeur d'Alene bike course. Well, sort of. I rode a simulation of the course, and what a blast it was!! Let me share.
I know three other women doing Ironman Coeur d'Alene. The four of us, plus four other fellow triathletes, rented out a cycling studio that owns a computerized satellite-captured simulation of all 112 miles. We did not, of course, ride all 112 miles today--YIKES. We did ride for two hours and it was by far my most challenging bike workout yet this season.
Indulge me in a description of the oodles of delicious statistics the simulation provided. oooh, it was exciting! For each of the eight riders, the big screen displayed our mileage covered (different for each because we were riding at different speeds), grade, current and average mph, current and average power (in watts...think outlets and electronics: a standard outlet puts out 110 watts, a computer uses 10 watts; my average power was about 120 watts), and pancakes earned (more commonly known as calories burned). In addition, the computer also calculated who was in "first" etc, as well as how far behind (in feet) we each were from the person immediately ahead of us. I was in heaven, watching all those numbers accumulate and change by the second!
Today's workout was perfect for training because it's course reconnaissance--short of being there, I can't get any closer to Coeur d'Alene. The studio has these uber-cool bike trainers that are hooked up to the computer. With my bike mounted on the trainer and plugged into the computer, when the course hit an incline, it instantly changed the resistance on my rear wheel and I needed to adjust my pedaling and gearing to maintain speed. Same thing for descents, except--dang--I couldn't coast on the trainer. Absent gravity and weather, it was identical to riding outside. Thanks to this virtual reality, it didn't take long for me to realize how challenging the bike segment will be. It is not flat. The grades top out at 10% with sustained climbs of 8.6%. I take comfort in that cycling is my first love. This means I'll have to balance taking advantage of my cycling strength with being careful to not destroy my legs for the run.
The lesson from today: I have a long way to go to 112 miles on a course like this. And at the same time I'm light years ahead of where I was at this point last year. We'll return to the studio in March to ride half of the course, 56 miles. And then perhaps ride a longer portion at least once more before race day. As we headed to Village Inn for post-workout refueling, we all agreed that we're relieved it's only February!! At this point, it still feels like I have plenty of time to train and prepare. No doubt that in a matter of a few weeks that feeling will morph into feeling like time is zooming by. In the meantime, I'll enjoy the "Ironman is still far away" feeling. :-)
I know three other women doing Ironman Coeur d'Alene. The four of us, plus four other fellow triathletes, rented out a cycling studio that owns a computerized satellite-captured simulation of all 112 miles. We did not, of course, ride all 112 miles today--YIKES. We did ride for two hours and it was by far my most challenging bike workout yet this season.
Indulge me in a description of the oodles of delicious statistics the simulation provided. oooh, it was exciting! For each of the eight riders, the big screen displayed our mileage covered (different for each because we were riding at different speeds), grade, current and average mph, current and average power (in watts...think outlets and electronics: a standard outlet puts out 110 watts, a computer uses 10 watts; my average power was about 120 watts), and pancakes earned (more commonly known as calories burned). In addition, the computer also calculated who was in "first" etc, as well as how far behind (in feet) we each were from the person immediately ahead of us. I was in heaven, watching all those numbers accumulate and change by the second!
Today's workout was perfect for training because it's course reconnaissance--short of being there, I can't get any closer to Coeur d'Alene. The studio has these uber-cool bike trainers that are hooked up to the computer. With my bike mounted on the trainer and plugged into the computer, when the course hit an incline, it instantly changed the resistance on my rear wheel and I needed to adjust my pedaling and gearing to maintain speed. Same thing for descents, except--dang--I couldn't coast on the trainer. Absent gravity and weather, it was identical to riding outside. Thanks to this virtual reality, it didn't take long for me to realize how challenging the bike segment will be. It is not flat. The grades top out at 10% with sustained climbs of 8.6%. I take comfort in that cycling is my first love. This means I'll have to balance taking advantage of my cycling strength with being careful to not destroy my legs for the run.
The lesson from today: I have a long way to go to 112 miles on a course like this. And at the same time I'm light years ahead of where I was at this point last year. We'll return to the studio in March to ride half of the course, 56 miles. And then perhaps ride a longer portion at least once more before race day. As we headed to Village Inn for post-workout refueling, we all agreed that we're relieved it's only February!! At this point, it still feels like I have plenty of time to train and prepare. No doubt that in a matter of a few weeks that feeling will morph into feeling like time is zooming by. In the meantime, I'll enjoy the "Ironman is still far away" feeling. :-)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Miami
Living in Denver, it's not uncommon to experience great temperature fluctuations within mere hours. Particularly during the "shoulder seasons" the temperature can drop 50 degrees from noon to midnight. Nothing, however, prepared me for the brutal change in climate when I landed at DIA Monday night. Earlier that day, the ladies and I were lounging by the pool in Miami, getting our dose of vitamin D under brilliant skies. In a matter of four hours, we went from 75 to -4. Welcome home. I know many of you also are suffering through this mean winter weather, so I don't expect any sympathy. :-)
But I digress. This is about Miami itself and the race!! What to give attention to first?
I'll start with the main purpose of the trip: the race. I trained well, ate well, got stronger, and set a challenging yet realistic goal: sub-2-hours. This meant Lisa and I would have to average a pace of 9:13 min per mile or better. Very doable, especially considering how grossly I'd underestimated my potential performance at last year's half in Dallas. Very doable, too, because I am in quite a different place now than at this same time last year. I am clearer on what I'm capable of achieving. This race, then, was in many ways a test--a test of my training, my preparation, my mental toughness, and my realism in setting goals. Reading that, this sounds like a lot of pressure. But if I'm to set goals that push me beyond where I currently am, this is what I need to do.
About the race itself. It was similar to last year's Dallas race in that Lisa and I started off strong and quick. I love sea level!! :-) Also like Dallas, we kept a consistent pace that gradually chipped away at our average pace. And, as happened last year, I suffered a drop in physical and mental force at mile 11, but finished running my strongest and fastest.
And yet the race was simultaneously wholly unlike Dallas. Rather than chasing her, I actually ran with Lisa the whole way. We passed many more people (1) than passed us, and (2) than we passed in Dallas. And the biggest difference between Miami and Dallas? Our finish time and average pace: We crossed the 13.1-mile mark at 1:59 for an average pace of 9:07 min per mile. Yippeeeee!!!
Equally fun and rewarding was being with friends I love, women who feed my soul. Juli had a terrific race, completing her first-ever half-marathon in an amazing 2:16. Several other non-racing friends traveled with us to round out the group and take part in the celebration of friendship. Many times throughout the weekend I was struck with how blessed I am, to have these incredible women in my life.
When we weren't racing or doing race-related things, we were exploring downtown Miami and Miami beach. There was a perfect mix of activity and rest. True to my intent, it was a restorative trip. Even though I was gone for four days, it felt much longer. And, despite the inhuman cold awaiting me in Denver, I was ready to come home...home to Steve and our life here, home to my friends and family, home to the rest of Ironman training, and home to my quickly-approaching 40th birthday. On to the next great thing!
But I digress. This is about Miami itself and the race!! What to give attention to first?
I'll start with the main purpose of the trip: the race. I trained well, ate well, got stronger, and set a challenging yet realistic goal: sub-2-hours. This meant Lisa and I would have to average a pace of 9:13 min per mile or better. Very doable, especially considering how grossly I'd underestimated my potential performance at last year's half in Dallas. Very doable, too, because I am in quite a different place now than at this same time last year. I am clearer on what I'm capable of achieving. This race, then, was in many ways a test--a test of my training, my preparation, my mental toughness, and my realism in setting goals. Reading that, this sounds like a lot of pressure. But if I'm to set goals that push me beyond where I currently am, this is what I need to do.
About the race itself. It was similar to last year's Dallas race in that Lisa and I started off strong and quick. I love sea level!! :-) Also like Dallas, we kept a consistent pace that gradually chipped away at our average pace. And, as happened last year, I suffered a drop in physical and mental force at mile 11, but finished running my strongest and fastest.
And yet the race was simultaneously wholly unlike Dallas. Rather than chasing her, I actually ran with Lisa the whole way. We passed many more people (1) than passed us, and (2) than we passed in Dallas. And the biggest difference between Miami and Dallas? Our finish time and average pace: We crossed the 13.1-mile mark at 1:59 for an average pace of 9:07 min per mile. Yippeeeee!!!
Equally fun and rewarding was being with friends I love, women who feed my soul. Juli had a terrific race, completing her first-ever half-marathon in an amazing 2:16. Several other non-racing friends traveled with us to round out the group and take part in the celebration of friendship. Many times throughout the weekend I was struck with how blessed I am, to have these incredible women in my life.
When we weren't racing or doing race-related things, we were exploring downtown Miami and Miami beach. There was a perfect mix of activity and rest. True to my intent, it was a restorative trip. Even though I was gone for four days, it felt much longer. And, despite the inhuman cold awaiting me in Denver, I was ready to come home...home to Steve and our life here, home to my friends and family, home to the rest of Ironman training, and home to my quickly-approaching 40th birthday. On to the next great thing!
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