Saturday, May 31, 2014

First Triathlon of the Season - Disappointment


First Triathlon of the Season - Disappointment
May 31, 2014

Today, I raced in my first outdoor Triathlon of the season.  It was good to get back to all five events (including the transitions).  The weather was nice and I had a great time.  I was not last overall and took second in my age group, but it was a very disappointing race.

I made a LOT of mental errors. 


1)  Everyone says not to do anything new for the first time in a race.  I used googles that I had never used before.  They prompted filled with water as I dove into the lake.  The swim was out to the first buoy, turn right, swim to the second buoy, turn right and return to the start.  As I approached the first buoy, I noticed that everyone was swimming straight toward me.  How could that be?!!  I then realized I had mis-sighted and was swimming to the second buoy first!  Oh brother!


2)  Even though I walked through the transition area for both transitions before the race, I got mixed up in T2 and ran to the bike exit rather than the run exit.  Oh brother!!


3)  Even though I had driven the entire course the day before, I could not remember where the turn-around for the run was.  The corner before the turnaround had no volunteers present, and I thought perhaps all the remaining turns (including the turn-around) were also unmanned.  I knew I was going west and just imagined myself running to Illinois!  I ended up stopping and running backwards as I asked the drink station volunteers and the 70.3 racers (who were on the same course) if they knew where the sprint turn-around was.  Finally, one of the 70.3 runners shouted back from somewhere over the next hill, "The turnaround is up here!"


Before the race, I realized that I did not have a race plan.  I always focus on my coach's words, "Relax.  Follow the plan.  Smile" before races.  As I was mentally preparing for this race, I thought to myself, "Oh no!  I do not have a sprint plan!!!!"  I ended up running a pace that was similar to my half-marathon pace.  Actually, I ran slower than my half-marathon pace and slower than my pace from the previous season.  How totally discouraging after running 15-18 miles a week throughout the off-season to "learn how to run" so I would do better in the sprint run.

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My coach ran in the 70.3 race today on the same course.  I was so nervous to have him be there.  Luckily, his race started before my race and ended after my race, so wasn't able to watch me.  Phew!  I know this is silly - and I'm over it now, but it sure made me nervous this morning!  We passed each other going opposite ways in the last mile of my run.  I heard a voice shout, "Suuuuuue  R . . . ."  Then I realized the voice came from a runner going the opposite direction and could see a HUGE smile on his face.  It was my coach!  That was pretty cool.  As I ran past, I said, "Head's up, chest's forward!" with an equally big smile!  I also got to see him finish (so impressive) and talk for a bit after his race (even though I was a little nervous to be talking to one of the elites - also silly).  I ended up being happy he was there - but I sure was nervous about it before the race!

I had to figure out how to psychologically deal with this race.  I do not believe in making excuses.  I didn't do well.  It was my fault, period.  I believe that you are never a looser unless you quit.  I believe that doing poorly is not a failure if you learn from your mistakes.  As an athlete-wanna-be, my task is to learn from this experience so I will not replicate the mistakes that I made today in future races.  Got it.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Making My Coach Proud

Making My Coach Proud
May 7, 2014

I've been referring to my coach as "my coach monster" based on the name that Meredith Atwood calls her coach in her book, Triathlon for the Everyday Woman.  However, that name in no way matches the personality and approach of my coach.  He is the kindest person and has a quirky, silly sense of humor that makes me laugh.  He inspires me through his compassion rather than through fear. 


A good coach understands technique and theory.  A great coach understands those two things and has the ability to teach those things to his or her athletes.  A truly amazing coach is technically sound and is a gifted teacher, but also has sincere compassion.  Because of that compassion, he or she is able to inspire – to bring things out of others that they didn’t know existed.  

When I first emailed my coach (after finding him via a Google search), I warned him that I was an old, overweight woman – and gave him every opportunity to say, “no thanks.”  Instead, he wrote back, “I was born to coach.”  I believe he was.  At age 27, he was willing to take on a 60-year-old athlete-want-to-be in addition to the many elite triathletes that he coaches - and has put just as much time and energy into me as the elites.  He is not coaching for the glamor, he is coaching because he loves helping people reach their dreams.  That's pretty cool.

Here's an example of his compassion:  When I had my atrial flutter in January, my coach wrote, "Just tell me what you need and I will do it."  That touched me deeply.  And when I was frustrated because I didn't know why he was having me do things that seemed crazy (like run slow in order to be fast), he would agree to do a "sit down" with me and patiently let me ask all my questions.  Truly, he is a saint.

The moment I stepped over the finish line in the half marathon, I sent my coach a text -- even before they put the medal over my head.  I could not wait to tell him that we did it - his plan, his inspiration, my execution.  I simply texted, "Finished!!!!"  Then I wrote, "We did it!!!!  Followed the plan the whole way.  Feel great!  You are the BEST coach!!"

He wrote back, "I am the proudest coach in town!

I can't even begin to tell you how those words made me feel.  I could not have been happier to have made him proud.  I wanted him to be proud - not of me, but of his accomplishment.  He took an obese, sixty-year old woman and turned her into a sprint triathlete and a half marathoner.  What an amazing accomplishment for him!

Here's the rest of our text conversation:

Me:  It was absolutely wonderful.  I felt so prepared.  My last mile was as strong as my first.

Coach:  You earned every bit of it.

Me:  WE earned every bit of it.  This is your victory as much as mine.  What a great job you did with me!  :-)

Later, my coach posted this on his Facebook page:

I want to give a very specially shout out to Sue. I can't say enough about this specially lady. This race finish was a huge step in a journey in her quest for a healthier life. To date, Sue has lost over 140 lbs. She has worked so hard to get where she is, and we aren't done yet! She will tell you I was a big part of her success, but a coach is nothing without an athlete that is willing to learn and listen. And then follow it up with detection and hard work. One very proud coach today!

It is so easy to understand why this young man earned mental attitude awards in high school. What a nice guy.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

WOOHOO!! I did it!! Half marathon!!

May 3, 2014
Woohoo!!  I Did It!!  Half Marathon!!
Indy 500 Half Marathon

Oh my gosh, I did it!

It was a perfect race!  All of the training plans, all the time invested, all the thinking about every little detail, all the mental preparation – it just all came together at the perfect time.  I ran 13.1 miles without getting tired and without any more than the normal aches and creaks.  Un-be-lievable!

I was so nervous at the start as I lined up with 35,000 other runners.  I went to my assigned coral and when the took the ropes away that separated the corals, I was able to move up a little more -- anything to get away from the dreaded sweep bus.  A man saw me inching my way in to the center.  He stepped aside and motioned for me to stand next to him.  I think he was one of the kindest people I have ever met.  I told him this was my first marathon.  He had done three.  He was so encouraging.  He told me that he had read that if pressed, anyone could run three times their longest training run.  I kept thinking about that throughout my run.  We chatted and laughed as we walked toward the start line among the 35,000 starting the race.  As we approached the start line, we said good luck to each other, and then he was gone.  Maybe he was an angel.

My first couple of miles felt sluggish, but then I got into a groove at the pace I wanted to go.  A lot of people were passing me, which I expected.  I knew that some of them were faster than me - and some I would pass later because they were going out too fast.  Runners were chatting and laughing.  About a quarter of a mile in, I heard someone say, "Look, the helicopter is over the finish line.  The Kenyans must be finishing!"  There were things to see every block.  Rock bands, cheerleaders, belly dancers (!), preachers, clowns, water stations, mile markers, and one seemingly crazy woman yelling crazy things at the runners as they by.  People were sitting in their yards and on their porches cheering for all of us.  One lady held up a sign that said, "I don't know you, but I am proud of you."  I also made it a point to thank each of the police officers and military personnel who were all along the way.  The time just flew by and all of a sudden I was at mile four.  How did that happen?!

I made it a point to stop at each water station.  I was carrying a water bottle that strapped to my hand and was sipping water at every walk.  I think I drank too much in the beginning because I started to feel like a jelly first, so I started drinking a little less, but then I noticed that while I thought I was drinking a lot, I did not have to pee, so I figured I was perspiring more than I thought I was and started drinking more again.  I stopped for water at each water station.  I'd take a cup from someone at the beginning of the station, crush the cup a little to make a pour spout, and then pour it into my water bottle as I ran.  Then I'd get a second cup from someone at the back of the water station and do the same thing.  That worked well.

I was so glad that I had driven the course because I knew my next goal was the village of Speedway, a mile away.  A country band, cloggers, more water stations, and a child folk singer.  I looked for the factory that I knew would be halfway and then the Mexican restaurant at the corner where we would turn into Speedway.  Running down Main Street in Speedway was uplifting because I knew the next focal point was the Indy 500 race track.  As I turned onto 16th Street to approach the track, a little boy was standing with his mother and holding up a sign that said, "I am cheering for YOU."  I pointed back and forth from the sign to me with a quizzed expression on my back.  Then smiled and gave him a thumbs up.  He got embarrassed and his mother gave me a huge smile.  Fun.

We ran under the grandstand into the racetrack and were greeted by the I.U. Cheerleaders.  While there had been a lot of cheerleader groups along the way, I was struck by how especially motivating they were.  They weren't just cheering to be cheering.  They seemed to understand that their cheers could make a difference.  Not sure I can explain this. . .

We rounded turn two on the track.  I was having a blast.  Ok, now just run to turn three.  My favorite part of the entire run was a group of girls all dressed up like cartoon monkeys.  Each had a sign with the first part of a goofy joke having to do with monkeys on the front.  As I passed, I would point to the card, and the monkey holding it would flip it over to show the rest of the goofy joke on the back.  I got a kick out of that.

As I approached mile 7, I started to feel my pelvic floor and thought, oh no, here we go.  Mile seven was where I always got into trouble during my training runs.  But I just told myself, "Do not think about how you feel.  Just run," and that's what I did.  Not soon afterward, that pain went away and didn't come back for the rest of the race.

Suddenly, I passed mile 7 and then we were coming around turn four into the start/finish line.  As I ran down the straight track, the PA system started playing the theme to Rocky.  I discovered that song has tempo of 90 beats per minute - perfect running music.  It was so cool to be able to run that straight, see the grandstands on either side, and imagine what the winner of the Indy 500 must be thinking as they come around the track at the end of the race with all of the fans cheering.  I held my head high and imagined that the stands were full of people cheering for me.

I'm not sure why there is a yard-wide strip of bricks at the finish line for the Indy 500, but there is.  That's why they call the track the Brickyard.  A lot of runners will stop, drop and kiss the bricks as they run by.  Instead, I decided to throw a kiss to the bricks.  Ok, maybe I was feeling just a little silly at that point.  Lack of oxygen?  Then I noticed that there were photographers above the track taking pictures of people kissing the bricks.  So I looked up, put my hand in front of my mouth as though to blow a kiss.  Later, it probably looked like I was blowing a kiss to the photographer, rather than to the bricks.  And in the still photograph, it will probably look as though I am holding my hand over my mouth because I am about to throw up.  Oh well . . .

My dad (now deceased) used to be in charge of Chrysler's racing program when Richard Petty raced for Chrysler.  He would often go to the Indy 500 to watch the Indy cars race.  As I ran around turn one, I imagined him sitting in the stands watching the race.  "Hi Dad," I said out loud.

As we exited the track, I could see the tail end of the runners.  They must have been 2 1/2 miles behind me.  Good!

After exiting the track, I saw the Indy 500 Princesses.  We had a lovely conversation with one of them when we picked up my bib.  I told her that I would say hi to her during the race and I ran over to tell one of them to say hi to her for me.  Then I passed the Mile 9 marker.  WOW!  Only four miles to go.  I was going to make it!  About this point, I was no longer being passed by runners.  In fact, most of the people around me were now walking and I was passing a LOT of walkers.  I had to plan my course and zig zag to get past groups of walkers.  Everyone was tired, but not me.  I just kept running at my set pace.

I was looking forward to Olin Avenue.  The street had several ninety-degree turns as it wound through the Marathon Petroleum Corporation.  As we turned onto Olin, a lady was holding up a sign that said, "Touch here for a power surge."  It was literally rubbed bare in the middle.  How funny.  Then we turned onto 10th Street and I knew the 10 Mile marker would be appearing soon.  My excitement started to increase and then I could see it.  Three miles left.  I AM GOING TO MAKE IT!  OH MY GOSH!  I AM GOING TO MAKE IT.  I am at 10 miles and nothing hurts.  I AM GOING TO MAKE IT!

I thought these two miles down 10th Street would be the most difficult, but the energy I had from knowing that I was going to make it - and how good I was feeling - made these two miles not so bad.  I also noticed that all the people in front of me were walking.  While everyone was laughing and chatting at the start, no one was talking at this point.  There was not as much entertainment at this point.  And the water stations were much smaller.  But . . . I found the 37 blocks in this stretch of the route to be extremely interesting as it wound through a poorer section of Indianapolis.  The houses were small, some not well kept.  Amid the house were dingy shops and bars, one specializing in frog legs.  But everyone was out in their yards, smiling and cheering us on.  I suspect most of these people didn't have the opportunity to be runners.  I suspect many were working two jobs to make ends meet and they certainly could not afford the race entrance fee.  And yet, here they were cheering for us.  Encouraging us.  That really touched me.

As I ran down 10th Street, I found myself speeding up and with only three miles left, I figured that would be ok.  At times, I found myself running at a pace that was two minutes faster than my planned pace – and forced myself to slow down.  I settled in to a pace that was just one minute faster than my planned pace.  That felt good.  My form felt good.  My body felt good.  Everything felt great!

Then I passed the 11 Mile marker and turned onto White River Parkway.  Two miles left.  Two miles!  TWO MILES!  I remembered that I had two traffic lights before the turn onto New York for the Victory Mile.  Then suddenly, runners at the side of the road in front of me were waving their arms and yelling, "Paramedic!"  The lead singer in a band up the road was also yelling, "PARAMEDIC!" into the microphone.  I ran past a young athletic-looking young woman who had collapsed.  Scary.  I said a prayer as I ran past.  Then a golf cart with paramedics and a stretcher came toward me.  We all pointed behind us to the collapsed runner.  I hope she is ok.  That reminded me of how grueling 13.1 miles can be, how grateful I was for all the training I had done, and how I should not do anything stupid in the last two miles.

And then we were turning the corner on New York for the Victory Mile.  People were so excited.  The people on the sides of the street were yelling, "One more mile!"  The runners were yelling, "One more mile."  The volunteers were yelling, "One more mile!"  I was yelling, "One more mile!"

New York Street had two hills and I had pre-planned to walk both of them.  I wanted to run, but forced myself to walk.  No use sending my heart rate soaring at this point.  But, as soon as things leveled out, I ran with gusto - feet planted below my hips, head up, arms back.  I felt SO good.

When I entered the part of the Victory Mile lined with black and white checkered flags, I called my husband.  Not expecting a call from me during the race, he was concerned and immediately asked, "What's wrong?!!"  "Nothing!" I quickly replied.  "I am coming down the home stretch!  Woohoo!  I'm going to make it!!  See you in a few minutes!!"  A lady next to me overheard my end of the conversation and started laughing.  "Isn't this fun?!!" I asked her.  She agreed and we ran down the road with huge smiles on our faces.

Then I running in front of the stands.  The PA system was broadcasting sound tracks from the Indy 500 finishes.  An announcer was talking about something.  I was thinking, "Oh my gosh.  I am running in front of spectators at the finish line!"  All the walkers started running toward the banner over the road.  We were all going to make it!

I normally sprint for the last 50 yards, but I decided to just enjoy this finish.  I just kept running and began shouting "Woohoo!" as I approached the finish.  I probably looked like an idiot.  I was just so, so happy that I couldn't keep it inside!  I yelled "Woohoo" as I crossed the finish line, and then started yelling, "I DID IT!!!"  I choked up a bit, but just kept woohoo-ing!

I couldn't wait to tell my coach.  The first thing I did was send him a text, even before I even got my medal.  My first text just said, "Finished!!!!"  Then I texted, "We did it!!!! Followed the plan the whole way.  Feel great!  You are the BEST coach!"

They put the medal over my head - just like in the Olympics.  I felt so wonderful.  My husband appeared on the other side of the fence and took a couple of quick pictures.

Then I went through the stations where they hand out food to the finishers.  They gave me a plastic grocery bag and I went from station to station and opened my bag so they could drop in a banana, peach cup, cookies, pretzels.  It felt like Halloween.  There was also Gaterade and water.  I ate a banana (mmmm) and called my son, Andy.  (Mike was not at home)  As soon as Andy answered the phone, I started woohoo-ing again!  I just remember babbling on with great excitement about the race with a half eaten banana in my hand.  I have no idea what I said.  Toward the end of the call, I thanked him for encouraging me to enter the first 5k and for walking it with me - and for all his encouragement along the way.  I started to cry a bit.  So many emotions!

I found an open photo booth and asked the photographer if he could make me look pretty.  He replied, "I don't have to.  You are already pretty."  I don't know why, but I told him, "I just lost 140 pounds and this was my big goal.  I am so excited."  He high-fived me and took my picture.  When I left, he said, "I just want to high five you again."  So many kind-hearted people.

I met Brian and took some more photos.  Then, without ever even sitting down once to rest, walked to the hotel.  Simply amazing.


Friday, May 2, 2014

One more day!

May 2, 2014
One More Day - Dedicating the Race

This has been a tough week.  This was a travel week at work.  I had to be on the road at 4:00 am on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  Because I wanted to get eight hours of sleep each night, we were going to bed at 8:00 pm.  I'd fall asleep and then wake up around midnight, thinking it was morning.  My sleep schedule was totally off.  I did the taper runs that my coach assigned.  Both felt sluggish.  But, I remember from swimming, that I always feel sluggish while tapering.

Today is my husband's birthday.  He is a saint.  We opened cards and presents in the morning, but given that my focus is on the race, there wasn't much birthday celebrating.  I will need to make up for that when the race is over.

Last night, I laid out everything that I wanted to take to the race.  This morning I put everything in my suitcase and sport bag.  I almost forgot the plug-in to charge my Garmin watch.  Phew.

This morning, I decided that I wanted to write words to remember on a piece of paper to carry with me for inspiration during the race.  The first few phrases were from my coach in various text messages.  The second is from an email from my cardiologist.  The third phrases are from my sons.
I decided to dedicate my run to three people and I wrote their names on the paper too:  1) our granddaughter, Emma Kate, who will be born at any moment, 2) her older sister, Harper, and 3) a young man who I have never met named Tom Morris who I find to be incredibly inspiring.  

I read a post on my coach's Facebook page that said how much he admired Tom.  Then I went to Tom Morris' Facebook page to see what was so admirable about him and I was blown away.  Tom is a strength coach at Indiana University and a cyclist.  In March 2012, he had a catastrophic mountain bike accident and laid paralyzed on the ground for three hours before anyone found him.  He entered a rehab facility in Louisville and worked his tail off.  He regained the use of his arms, chest and torso, but not his legs.  That didn't stop him.  He resumed his job as strength coach at IU.  His attitude, perseverance, dedication, strength, courage are so inspiring.  Simply amazing.  When I am doing runs, I always take Tom's story with me.  When the runs get tough, I think about all the rehab Tom did and the progress that he made.  I think about how lucky I am to have two legs that work.   That makes my temporary discomfort seem so insignificant and I push on.

We left for the hotel around noon, checked into the hotel, and then went to get my race packet.  I wanted to keep off my feet, so we didn't spend much time viewing the booths.  Then we drove the course one last time, went back to the room, watched TV and had room service dinner.

I am still not sure  what to eat the night before events.  I ate ramen noodles in V8 juice (mmmm) and eggs fried in olive oil that I brought from home.  I didn't have any way to heat them, so I ate cold fried eggs.  Yuk!  I worked on hydrating all day.