The Long Way

My wonderful, patient husband asked me the other day, "Why are you being no fun?" He's right. I have been zero fun for about the past 8 weeks. If I'm not training, I'm sleeping, and if I'm not sleeping, I'm working. All work and no play makes Greer a dull girl. And a tired girl. And a grumpy girl.

I have one more big weekend of training before I start my taper for Ironman Arizona. I've been training my butt off, and I feel more ready than I've ever been...physically. Mentally, I'm spent. Just the thought of hearing the alarm go off tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM so I can go get in the pool and swim 3,000 yds straight, and then bike 6 hours, and then run 2 miles makes my stomach lurch with dread. Oh yeah, and I have a 20 mile run on Sunday. Awesome. Ugh. It's been this way every Saturday and Sunday for weeks. It's like some hellish version of the movie Groundhog's Day with a wicked amount of exercise thrown in for good mearsure.

As I was spinning away during one of my mind-numbing trainer rides (winter has arrived in Utah), the song Battlefield by Jordin Sparks came on my iPod. Now, before you groan and write me off due to my poor music taste (let's be honest, I do have poor music taste), there's one line that really stuck with me.

"You better go and get your armor..."

Armor...I started thinking about armor. I started to wonder how, during the Ironman, I could wrap my body in some kind of mythical armor to get through it, and then I realized...it wasn't my body that was in need of the armor. It's my mind. I've done the training. I've put in hour after hour after hour. Now it's up to the fate of the day and my mind. I've got to wrap my brain in armor to protect it from all the "I can't's" and "I'm too tired's" that I know will be hurling themselves at my conscious. I'm not sure what this armor will look like...maybe shiney and silver or gold. Maybe glittering with diamonds. I'll figure out the details this weekend and try it on for size during my long bike ride.

To my lovely husband: Don't worry honey...I'll be fun again soon. I just need to get through this battle of a race...then, I think I'll put the armor on the shelf for a while.

What I've Been Up To....

Yep, that's right. I've been terrible (really terrible) about posting because I was working on tying the knot with the love of my life (yes, I'm all gushy). I know my last post was in May but that's when the wedding details really heated up. I got married on August 2nd, went for a fabulous honeymoon in Hawaii, and now I'm back and will hopefully be back on track with the whole posting thing again.

My posting hiatus aligned with my training hiatus. I did do Boise 70.3 in June, but then I promptly stopped doing anything at all. Part of it was that I had a wedding to plan, and the other part was that I had a pretty sucky day in Boise, and I just wasn't feeling the triathlon love anymore.

Here's my long overdue race report:

The bike leg in Boise knocked me out and took me down for the count. I've never had a more terrible time during a triathlon. Boise has a unique 2PM start, which I thought was rad. I've never done a race where I've slept past 5AM. We slept until 10AM in Boise, and it was lovely. No early morning rushing around and shoving food down your throat. We ambled down to the start around 12:30 and took a nap in the sun...yes, a nap. It was great. Well....great until the thunderheads rolled in exactly at 2PM. The water went from glass to white caps and ominous thunder and dark clouds brewed in the distance. Things did not look good. It started pouring approximately 10 seconds into the bike, and it never stopped. I have never been so wet or uncomfortable in my life. Don't get me wrong. I'm pretty tough. But 56 miles in pouring rain will take its toll on anyone. I got to the end of that bike and nearly burst into tears. As I came out of transition, I saw my Mom and was fully planning on falling into her arms when she excitedly told me my Dad was just a few hundred yards ahead of me (starting his second lap of the run). This perked me up a bit, and I picked up the pace, and we ran together for a few miles. He took off a few miles before the finish line, and by then I was warmed up enough to keep going. I crossed the finish line happy...sort of. My swim time was mediocre, my bike time was atrocious, and my run was par for the course. I was not stoked. So, I stopped. Stopped training and definitely stopped racing.

Fast forward a few months and I'm now happily married and back into my first week of real, solid training. I have a 1/2 marathon in September (San Diego) and Ironman Arizona in November. I feel good. I feel energized. And best of all...I'm marrriiieed!!!! Yay.

Ready to Climb

In a few short hours, my fiance and I will be on the road to Durango, CO, which we do nearly every year for Memorial Day Weekend. We'll stop in Moab tonight to camp and get a short ride in tomorrow and then arrive in Durango on Friday. What's in Durango? Quite possibly the most amazing bike ride ever: The Iron Horse Bicycle Classic. I stumbled upon this race through a friend and have been a fan ever since. Here's what goes down:

Saturday morning, both road racers and tour riders climb from Durango, CO to Silverton, CO via two pretty amazing mountain passes (Coal Bank Pass and Molas Pass). All in all, we're talking about 50 miles with 6,650 ft of elevation gain. It's pretty brutal. It's also the most beautiful ride I've ever done. Check out the route:



The first year I did it, I had no idea what I was getting into. I signed up because a friend told me to. I got zero sleep the night before, jammed a donut down my throat before the gun went off and started climbing. By the second mountain pass, I was ready to fall over (which I easily could have since I was going between 2-3 miles per hour), half crying/half laughing, and swearing at my friend for not giving me all the info (to her credit, I didn't ask). When we finally arrived in Silverton, my legs were shaking like a leaf, but I was totally exhilarated--I felt like I had just done something really and truly hard.

I hadn't planned at all for this race. I basically got online, signed up, and then showed up. I don't know if you've ever done that but for future reference, it's a bad idea. I had no idea that once you got to Silverton, you had to find a way to get back to Durango. Most non-idiots who had read the race information had reserved a spot to have their bike trucked back down the mountain and had also purchased a ticket for the steam engine train or bus that can take you down. They had also given their warm bag of clothes to the race organizers the night before so it was waiting for them in Silverton. I had nothing. But I'm not one to give up easy. I may be an idiot, but I'm seriously resourcesful. First, I knew I had to get rid of my bike so I could see if I could squeeze onto the back of a truck or something that was headed down. For those of you wondering why I didn't ride back, I didn't because a) my legs couldn't have done it and b) they don't let you. So, I got in line with all the people who had reserved a spot on the bike truck and, when it was my turn, I handed my bike over like everybody else did and they took it without question. Whew. So, my bike was headed back to Durango, now I just had to figure out how to get myself back there. So I clacked around in my bike shoes heading from car to car asking if anyone had a spot I could ride in. After about 4 tries, one lady said they had a spot if I wanted to ride but she had a train ticket she wasn't going to use. I almost tackled her with glee. My friend that I had ridden up with had a train ticket, too, so I was really hoping to get to hang with her. So, my bike was on the way to Durango, and now I had a ticket to get myself to Durango. All that was left was to get rid of my ridiculous spandex riding outfit and into some comfy clothes. Luckily, I wasn't a total moron as I had remembered to bring my debit card in my cycling jersey. I popped into one of Silverton's gift shops and managed to scrounge up some pajama pants with the word "Colorado" across the butt and a hoody that had some nice pink satin lettering that said "Silverton" across the front. I quickly changed, and my friend and I dashed off to catch our train. Once on the train, I found out that there was a bar car. I was pretty certain the day could not get better than that. We spent the three hour train ride laughing, drinking beer, and checking out the most beautiful CO scenery ever from a steam engine train. Amazing.

To this day, I'm not sure what Karma God I had pleased, but I am still extremely thankful. So every Memorial Day we make the trek down to Durango, and I quite happily pay all the money for my bike to be trucked back and a train ticket. I leave my warm clothes with the race organizers the night before so they are there when I get to Silverton. I got it down now.

Last year, this race was canceled due to the fact that Silveton got 2 feet of snow on race morning. This year, the weather is calling for thunderstorms, so we'll see what happens. Either way, I'm stoked to be heading there. Durango is a killer town and there's a criterium on Sunday and a time trial on Monday. Plenty to do for the weekend worrior. Plus, there's real beer. For those of you who don't live in Utah, you have no idea what I'm talking about. For those of you that do...well...let me know if you need me to smuggle some back for you.

First Race of the Season...

The first race of the season is always a doozy and Saturday was no exception. Sure, you train at what you think is "race pace," but you can't really perform at race pace until you're actually racing. The adrenaline and the all the people around you add a whole new element that seems to bump up the heart rate a good 5 to 10 beats--at least that's what happens to me. Anyways, here's a race report:

Woke up at about 4:30 AM to choke down some eggs and oatmeal and then make the drive over to Sand Hollow reservoir from the condo we rented. Once in transition, I got everything organized, which I seem to have down to a system. It was about 70 degrees and windy--just enough to add a bit of a chill to the air. The wind was really picking up over the water and there were whitecaps reminiscent of Ironman Couer d'Alene 2007--something I wasn't stoked to relive but was confident I could handle, too. And since I'd be busting out some pretty good swim times during training, I was looking forward to the swim no matter what the wind was doing. Apparently the rescue kayakers weren't as keen as I was about getting out in the water, and the announcer came over the loudspeaker to let us know that swim was canceled. Arg. And they were going to make it a run, bike, run. Double Arg. Swimming is my best event and running is my worst event. It was like a cruel joke. So, the new race was a 5K run, 40K bike, 5K run. Not really what I drove 5 hours for, but I took it in stride, ditched my wetsuit, and strapped on my running shoes.

We started off for the first 5K, and I just tried to settle into a rhythm. I was happy I was going to be able to see the run course once before having to do it again at the end, but once I got out there, I was not excited to do a repeat appearance. It was a trail run but the trail was covered in beach sand. Not just packed down sand, but more like that stuff that makes you feel like you're running in place. Uck. Despite that, I felt OK after the first 5K and hopped onto my new tri bike feeling excited to finally have a piece of carbon under me. My chest puffed up when a spectator at the mount line said, "nice bike.." as I got on my new machine. While my new bike is definitely sweet looking, I'm not exactly speedy gonzales on it yet. I'm still sorting out the fit and the seat. I knew all of this before deciding to race it but was still bummed when I couldn't hammer through some of the flatter sections. My quads just gave out. Regardless, I got through it and went into the last 5K happy to be heading toward the finish. About a mile in, it became very clear that I should have taken that gel I had been avoiding on the bike. I just hadn't felt like it when I was biking, but I could tell that I was going to run out of fuel pretty quickly in this run. I've run a lot before without enough calories so I just put my head down and got to the finish--and then scarfed a million oranges, some bagels, and banana.

Overall, I'd call the first race of the season anticlimactic. It was more of a "race to train" day than anything. And I was not fast. I told my coach just that, and she reminded me that I have over 6 months until my Ironman and that I need to go slow before I could go fast...still, I'm impatient. The race did make me want to work harder during my training over the next few weeks so I can get faster, so I'm glad I did it.

I have a century ride this weekend, the Ironhorse in Durango next weekend and then two weeks from then is Boise 70.3. I hope to have my bike all sorted out by then and some more running under my belt. I did 5 miles this morning and felt faster than I've felt since training began.

"Train to race, race to train."

Keep on Keepin' On

One of my old journalism professors at Mizzou must have reminded us to, "show, don't tell" about a million times during the semester. Of course she was talking about doing this through our writing, and normally, I'd be up to the challenge, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use this totally spontaneous photo my finance took of me the other day.

This photo shows how I feel. I'm on week 4 of crazy workouts, and I can feel the pressure. I was looking at my workout schedule for the next two weeks and got a little teary. All I could think was, "I don't wanna." I'm tired. My body is tired. My mind is tired, and I often feel like I'm holding my breath under water...just waiting until the breaking point when my lungs just can't take it anymore. Yes, I'm being dramatic. But really, I'm tired.

In addition to my regular workout planned for today (30 mile bike ride), I taught a spin class this morning. And that's after a 2700 yd swim and 2 hour trainer ride yesterday. Did I mention I'm tired? I'm tired.

Despite my tiredness, I do not feel ready to quit for some reason. Normally, if I get too tired, I just stop. I'm an all or nothing gal. There seems to be some overriding force driving me on lately. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm going to ride it until it runs out.

Guess I'll just keep on keepin' on.

Ride up City Creek

Rode up City Creek Canyon last night. I love where I live.

My Ironman History

People often ask me how I get motivated to train for months and months. I'm not going to lie. It's hard. Really hard. But over time, I've come across some tools that really help me get out there time and time again. It may seem silly, but one of things that helps me the most is this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EokseUskyDI

When I decided to do my first Ironman, I was absolutely captured by the drama of it all. It was June of 2006, and I was in Coeur d'Alene, ID to watch my fiance's sister and brother in law do the Ironman there. It was a super hot day, and I didn't envy the athletes out there one bit...that is...until the finish line.

Accomplishment is not usually an emotion that's super visible on people. Even pride, for that matter, is a hard facial expression to find. But on that day, I was able to see both of those emotions in every single athlete that crossed the finish line. Some cried openly as they struggled past the crowd to cross. It absolutely killed me when a mother or father carried their 2 or 3 year old down the finishing shoot. It was so totally clear on their faces how hard they had had to work to balance their family and training for this ridiculous event. The fact that they had made it to the finish line with their family intact and beaming was just so emotional for me. Not to mention that every time an athlete crosses a finish line at an Ironman, Mike Riley (Ironman announcer) says, "[Insert name here], you are an Ironman!" Wow. It's intense for me to remember it now.

The next morning, as soon as registration opened, I signed up. I wanted to feel that pride and accomplishment myself. I wanted to be an Ironman. That first year of training, it was so easy to remember what I was shooting for. I teared up when I trained as I imagined myself crossing that finish line. I had dreams and nightmares about it. It was on my mind constantly. Then, the day came and I ticked each sport off my list: swim, bike, run. And then I was there. The finish line. I heard what I'd been hearing in my head for months: "Greer Hitch, you are an Ironman!" I remember throwing my hands up in the air and laughing.

When I signed up for Ironman Germany 2008, I was definitely excited to be doing a race abroad but that same sense of amazement and excitement definitely wasn't there. I couldn't get motivated and I trained like crap. I remember standing in the water right before the gun was going to go off thinking to myself, "I just want to get this stupid thing over with as fast as I can." And, that day, I did. I went through that race in a haze. Just moving as fast as my body would allow, saying to myself the whole time, "I just want to get this over with." When I finally reached the finish line (a whole hour faster than my previous Ironman. Ah, the power of the mind), I was a mess. I was bawling like a baby, and my body was absolutely done. Every person who asked me how I was got a huge hug and tears all over them. I sat down to talk to my father who had finished himself about 3 hours before me and immediately puked everywhere. All over those beautiful European cobble stones. Next thing I knew, I was in the med tent with an IV in my hand. Two IV bags later, I was walking happily back to my hotel. So very glad it was finally over.

I knew that I didn't want to feel that way about doing an Ironman ever again, so I took some time off. A lot of time off. Like 7 months of doing nothing at all. I call it "my blue period." 'Nuff said.

And then, this past November, I got online to watch some of my friends cross the finish line at Ironman Arizona, and, just for a second, remembered what it was all about. The next day, I signed up.

So, to keep this post from getting much longer, we'll fast forward to today. I can now access that pit of excitement and expectation of accomplishment whenever I want. I just watch the video above and find it within me again and again. I feel it the most, when, at the end of the video an older man says, "There is no better sense of accomplishment in life than finishing an Ironman."

I can't wait to feel it again.