Running Nearly Naked

Someone mentioned to me that I haven’t written anything about the “Nearly Naked Mile” I ran last month. I didn’t think a one-mile run was worth mentioning, but I guess the lack of clothing made it rather interesting.

Julie Johnston, a fellow member of the CVRA running club, had talked me into doing this race. It was a one-mile run at the University of Iowa where you donated your clothes to the Salvation Army. It sounded like fun…combining running and being nearly naked. Throw in some ice cream and it would be the perfect day.

We drove down with two other runners. Could we have picked a colder day? Wind chills were in the 20’s so I kept my clothes on as long as I could. About 15 minutes before the race I stripped down to a bikini bottom, sports bra and a rabbit fur cap.

Most of the competitors were college students, the only ones who are probably crazy enough to run without clothes! Julie was up front with the fast runners and I found my place at the back with my appropriate “pace group” i.e. college students who were still hung over from the night before. Next to me was a group of guys in cut-off shorts, cowboy hats and boots with clothing made from beer case boxes. At least they were creative.

The race was off. All I cared about at this point was finishing as quickly as possible so I could put clothes on! I’m sure the college students were wondering what this old lady was doing out there. The redneck boys ran by me, complaining about how much it hurt to run in cowboy boots.

My Dad’s rabbit fur cap is about 50 years old and it sheds. I could feel the fur flying in my mouth. Where’s the water stop? I guess one-mile races don’t have breaks. A girl in lingerie ran by me. Is that legal? On the final block a dog went by me. He had a fur coat so he was obviously overdressed.

At the finish line I grabbed some hot chocolate and found my friends. Julie was her usual upbeat self, but I just wanted to build a campfire right by the student union. It would be a while before feeling returned to my body.

On to other things…It’s April now so time to crank up the training. It’s been tough to run. I have a bunion on my foot that has bothered me since last year. I had surgery on my right foot nine years ago, but I never did my left and it keeps screaming at me. I should have had surgery last winter and now it’s too late in the season. I will just have to suck it up and push through.

I’m doing a 10K race in less than two weeks and my first tri of the season is next month. Both of these fall under the category of “What was I thinking?!” I’ve been doing some three-mile jogs so don’t know that I am ready for a 10K, but sometimes putting a race on the schedule can make me push myself in training. I’ve never done a tri in May before and since temps have been below normal for weeks, I’m dreading that lake water. That race will probably be closer to a “polar plunge” than a triathlon. Oh well, have to keep tri-ing...

My First Swim Meet

I have a reoccurring nightmare that I am late to a triathlon and I miss the start. Sometimes I am stuck in transition or I forget something. Maybe that’s why I always show up several hours early to a triathlon.

That nightmare came true at my first swim meet when I missed one of my races! More on that later…I had my first race of the year at the Freezefest 5K on Feb. 26. Dressed in a MWX green running shirt and Ninja Turtle boxers, I ran with fellow club member Brita. I told her I was going to run “marathon pace”—slow and steady. My run training had been sporadic over the winter and I knew I wasn’t in running condition.

About mile two Brita wanted to kick it to the finish. I told her to go on alone. As I reached the parking lot I passed several people in one last burst of energy. A young girl came up behind me, trying to beat me. “Come on! Let’s finish strong!” I yelled to her as we sprinted to the line, my long legs just edging her. She thanked me for pushing her and I felt 2011’s first spark of competitive juice.

I signed up for the March 26 Masters State Swim Meet, knowing I would finish last, knowing I would be out there swimming by myself at the end. I had to get over my fears and I knew I needed some type of competition to push my swim training.

The final week before the meet our club practiced diving off the blocks. I had never done any diving before. Coaches Nick and John tried to teach me, but I felt such fear as I stood at the pool’s edge. My heart raced and I felt on the verge of a panic attack. I knew it was mental, but my dives turned into belly flops. We decided it would be best if I started my races in the water.

The meet was held at the University of Iowa pool. They had two 8-lane pools and this incredible facility. Even the water felt warm! We did warm-up swims and I tried to calm my nerves. I was doing the 400-Meter Relay, the very first race of the day! I guess it was for the best so I didn’t have to sit around and get more nervous.

I was racing with Dottie Gierut from MWX and swimmers Barb and Pat. They were all older than me but superior swimmers. I hoped I wouldn’t let them down. I got in the water. The buzzer went off and the other swimmers dove in. I hesitated a second…oh, the buzzer means I’m supposed to start swimming!

I swam as hard as I could, but I felt fatigue quickly. Where were the other swimmers? Oh, here they come. They had already turned around. Pretty much everything that could go wrong did…I swallowed some water and I misjudged the wall so when I reached out, I wasn’t quite there and had to make another lunge. I felt slightly disoriented; I could hear yelling. “You know you’re going to finish last,” a voice told me, “so just relax, have good form and swim hard.” I reached the end, Dottie jumped in (not landing on my head as I feared) and my teammates helped me out of the pool. “Good job,” they said. They didn’t seem mad that I put us in last place. It was all good.

I had my first swim-meet swim under my belt. I felt a sense of joy. Mentor Jody Rausch told me to stay warm, but the shaking in my legs wasn’t due to the cold. I was used to the long, steady triathlon swims. This was fast and frenzied. I could still feel the adrenaline pumping through me.

I had a wait until my next race, the 50 meters. This was the race I was looking forward to; this was going to be MY race. I knew I was in the first heat, but I wasn’t used to how quickly the races start. I was walking towards the start when I heard them announce the 50 meters. I looked up and saw everyone was already on the blocks. I started running, a voice in my head screaming “No! Wait!” I thought about just throwing on my goggles and diving into the pool (wouldn’t that have been dramatic?), but I knew I had to accept that I had screwed up. I wanted to cry, but I knew my 200 Meter Relay was coming up soon so I had to shake it off.

I was racing with Chris O’Hara, Jenny Lorenz and Ron Gierut, some of the top triathletes I know. The only thing we had in common was that we were all over the age of 40. Okay, I told myself, this will be your 50. I waited as they announced the lane assignments, but they never said our names. Ron checked with the desk, but they didn’t have us listed. Another race I wouldn’t get to do. I went and sat down, feeling utterly defeated.

I was mad at myself for missing my race, but I had to chalk it up to a learning experience. I needed to stop the pity party and go cheer on my teammates. (I found out later that another team member had missed a race so I felt a little better).

My last race was the 100 meters. I did another warm-up and made sure I was at the start in plenty of time. “Swim hard or go home,” I told myself, using the saying I had adopted from the Kennedy H.S. Swim Team. As I swam that last 25 I thought “leave it all in the pool,” just like I would do if this was a tri. Jody was there to help me out. I was a little disappointed at my time, but Jody reminded me of the “smiley face” she had drawn on her hand…this day was about having fun.

I only did two races, but I enjoyed being part of the team and I had fun. Everyone was so supportive! No one cared how fast you swam. It made me want to come back next year, stronger and faster. The more I get knocked down, the more I want to get up and be better.

I heard Ironwoman Jenny Lorenz talking to one of the coaches about how she used to only swim during tri season and now she swims year-round. I decided in that moment that I would start swimming year-round. No quitting in August or September. I didn’t just want to swim in a triathlon; I wanted to be a swimmer.

The Dreaded Winter Weight Gain

I’ve always been jealous of those triathletes that train hard year-round. I always need to take some time off, and around December and January my motivation to train is pretty low. I like to think that I am a bear whose natural inclination is to hunker down in the winter and just sleep.

This lack of activity leads to the winter weight gain. I could also contribute it to the various “training” diets I experiment with during the off-season. There’s the “Nacho Bell Grandes from Taco Bell Diet” or the “Eating Breaded Mozzarella Sticks While Lying On The Couch Watching Football Diet” or the ever-popular “I Am Depressed By The Lack Of Sunlight And Need To Eat Ice Cream To Feel Better Diet.”

I tried to return to swimming in December but became too busy with the holidays. In January I made another effort to get back into the routine. “Lori’s back,” said Coach Nick. “It must be tri season.”

It’s true; I only swim when I am in training for a tri. Once my last tri of the year is done (it was in August last year) I stop swimming. There doesn’t seem to be a point to do something I don’t like if there is not an immediate goal in mind. There, I said it, I don’t like swimming.

Logically I know that swimming year-round would make me better. I know the way to be faster is to improve technique. To me, though, swimming is a necessary evil. It’s the thing I have to get out of the way so I can do the rest of a triathlon. Maybe I needed to change my love-hate relationship with the water.

Swimming is mentally exhausting. I desperately want to be one of those swimmers where everything comes naturally. For me, though, I am constantly thinking about every movement—keep my head down, rotate my hips, lengthen my stroke, cut through the water, don’t turn my head so much, breathe in, breathe out. Why does swimming have to be so hard?!

I know tri season will be here before I know it so I need to stay focused. For me, it helps if I have an upcoming race as a goal. My first race of the year is the Freezefest 5K on Feb. 26. It’s a fun run, but I still don’t want to be embarrassed. I remember seeing Deb Gaddis with her lab puppy, Sophie, running the course for a second time while I was still trying to finish. I don’t like being beaten by dogs and small children in strollers!

I guess losing that winter weight should be another motivation. The thought of putting on my onesy trisuit with this body should be motivation enough! I certainly don’t want to squeeze into a wetsuit.

There are many things that should motivate, but ultimately it has to come from inside me. I have to want it. I have to head out into the darkness in the morning and run, go to the pool even after a long day of work and quit using my bike trainer as a clothing rack. I have to make it happen!

My Strange Addiction

I recently watched a reality show called “My Strange Addiction.” It’s about people and their weird compulsions. There was a lady who eats household cleaner. “What a freak,” I thought. Then it happened…in between the woman who eats chalk and the girl who tans twice a day was a runner. Wait a minute! There’s nothing wrong with running! We’re not obsessive compulsive addicts!!

Troy was an ultra marathoner who ran 20 miles a day. He was training for a 100-mile race. His girlfriend complained that his running left little time for anything else. I thought about how many times I had said to someone “I have to train first.” I figured anyone in my life had to understand how important it was to me.

As Troy struggled through the 100 miles he said he felt sick and was in pain. His girlfriend didn’t understand why he didn’t stop. “I have to finish,” he said. It was scary, but I completely understood. The pain is something we go through, and sometimes savor, because it makes finishing that much sweeter. I’m sure any non-athlete watching the show would see someone like that as obsessed, but I admired Troy.

Troy finished the race in 26-plus hours. He said he was a little disappointed at his time and then he started to cry. He said the emotion was not a result of his time, but because he had to “dig deep.” I could remember races where I became overcome with emotion because I knew all that I had put in and because I had to mentally “dig deep” just to finish.

Troy’s feet were black-and-blue but he was already talking about doing better “next time.” His girlfriend gave him a look and I knew there would be no next time for her.

Troy talked about the need to keep pushing himself and doing more. Again, I got it. Each year when I start planning my schedule I think about what I want to accomplish and how I can take it to the next level. I always feel this need to do more, to reach higher. Did that mean I was an addict?

The show ended with Troy’s girlfriend breaking off their relationship and Troy doing four marathons in four days. Okay, maybe Troy could cut back a little, but I didn’t see anything wrong with setting goals and pushing yourself. Yes, ultra-marathoners and Ironman competitors punish their bodies. They push limits. They go beyond what “normal” people would do. I wasn’t sure that put them in the same category as people who eat chalk.

On an unrelated note, I donated my Hy-Vee Triathlon finisher’s medal to the Medals4Mettle organization. They take marathon, half marathon and triathlon finishers’ medals and give then to children and adults dealing with “chronic or debilitating illnesses who have demonstrated similar mettle, or courage, in bravely facing these challenges.”

As I have talked about in past columns, I didn’t get to finish last year’s Hy-Vee Tri because of the weather so I never felt I deserved the finisher’s medal. I never even took it out of its plastic packet. Each time I saw that medal in a drawer it reminded me of the disappointment of that day. Now I felt a sense of closure. Something positive was coming out of that day. I could look towards 2011 and put the 2010 season behind me.

Thank Your Sherpas!

This is the time of the year when I look back at the past season and start planning for 2011. I did four triathlons and six running races this year. I had some disappointments, but I also had some great experiences and I know we are lucky, as triathletes, to be able to do what we do.

Looking back also makes me reflect on the huge role our support people play in our success. I need to give a big shout-out to Jody Rausch, who became my unofficial coach this year.

A year ago, when I first joined the Milky Way Masters swim club, I told Jody I wanted to do an Olympic-distance tri and asked her how often I should swim. She told me three times a week. It was a big commitment, but I stuck to it. I could barely swim at all, but I swallowed my pride and went faithfully.

The first time I did a timed 500 Jody was there at the end of the pool, yelling out encouragement and telling me “You’re no quitter!” When I missed a few practices, she got on me about not slacking, telling me to “keep my eye on the prize.” Jody kept me on track to my goals.

Jody is a USAT coach so she always had great training advice. She would send me tips, but more importantly, she gave me encouragement. Before every race she would send me an e-mail with a “pep talk” and when I got down (like after the Hy-Vee Tri) she would pick me back up. So thank you, Jody, for helping me persevere!

There are many people in our club that have acted as “coaches” for me. They may not know it, but I watch them and I learn from them. I absorb every word they say and I try to take that knowledge to become a better triathlete.

Last month I talked about how Brita Loynachan came to my marathon and biked to spots throughout the course to cheer me on. It means so much to have a support crew (or sherpas, as I call them) at a race to keep you motivated.

We also can’t forget about our support crews at home. Maybe you have a spouse that takes care of the kids and makes it possible for you to race. My neighbors take care of my dog (my baby) when I go to overnight races, allowing me to pursue this lifestyle.

Take a moment to thank your support people. They make sacrifices too. We don’t do this alone! Thank you to everyone who has made my dream of being a triathlete a reality!!

My First Marathon

I had reached Mile 26 of the Des Moines Marathon and the volunteer said the finish line was just four blocks ahead. It still looked far away, but I just needed my legs to carry me a little further.

I turned off my iPod. The last song playing was Whitney Houston’s “One Moment In Time.” That song had been my theme for the Hy-Vee Triathlon earlier this year. “Give me one moment in time, when I’m more than I thought I could be…” I didn’t get to finish that race due to the weather and it was my biggest disappointment of the season. It seemed only fitting that the song would be playing before my biggest triumph. I had come full circle.

My friend and fellow MWXer, Brita, had made the trip to support me. She had biked to different spots on the course to cheer me on. Now she was on the sideline, with a throng of cheering people, giving me that last push to the finish line.

I had traveled to Des Moines the day before, full of nervous energy. I went to the expo and heard the course talk, making sure I made note of the medical tents. As I was walking through I saw Jeff Galloway—Olympian, coach, author, running god. He was going to be speaking at the dinner that night, but there he was at the Mizuno booth. I had purchased his book that spring, followed his training plan and spent many nights lying in bed, using my highlighter to mark his words of wisdom. I walked up and extended my hand. “I just wanted to meet you,” I said, gushing like a teenager. He asked me about my training plan and gave me advice on recovery. “You can do this,” he told me.

That night I went to the spaghetti dinner, clutching my Jeff Galloway book. Afterwards I went up to get his autograph. I was officially a Jeff Galloway stalker. Meeting him HAD to be a good sign.

That night I packed my fuel belt and my Spibelt (one can never have too many belts) with packets of Gu, Clif Bloks and cut-up pieces of a Snickers Marathon bar. Apparently I thought I was climbing Mt. Everest and would run out of food. As is my ritual, I wrote inspirational words on my arms. My left arm was “Relax” and my right was “No Quit.” I then drew a turtle on my forearm to signify that the race does not always go to the quick, but to those that keep on running. I was the tortoise.

The next morning I was at the race site early. I was freaking out and veteran marathoner Julie Johnston tried to talk me down. I remembered the words she had sent me. “Don’t over think it. Let your body do what it is trained to do.” Brita found me and she seemed to have a calming effect on me. Knowing I would have a friend waiting for me out on the course made a huge difference.

Before I knew it, the race had started. It didn’t take me long to shed the sweatpants, long-sleeved shirt and gloves I had purchased at Goodwill (all for five bucks!). The first hill was at mile 3 and for the next five miles there seemed to be endless hills, one after another. My hill training with the CVRA running club had prepared me, but it was still challenging.

Surprisingly, I was relaxed and having fun. I ran a nice, steady pace (helped by Brita yelling to me “You look strong!”). I had called club member Laura Grief earlier that week (she had just done her first marathon in Chicago) and she had told me to have fun. “You will never again be a first-time marathoner,” she told me. “Just enjoy the experience.”

I had been running with or near the 5:30 pace group. I got to know people along the course, including Gary who had traveled from Virginia for the race and an older gentleman who was doing his 64th marathon!

At mile 12 I ran the track at Drake University, the site of the Drake Relays. Some of the greatest runners had run on this track. They had a video camera so I could see myself on the jumbotron.

I started to find my groove. I was doing my best running and I felt good. I left the pace group behind. I was passing people and just enjoying the day. At mile 15, as I ran the tree-lined path in the park, I looked up at the sunny sky, the leaves falling from the trees, and all I could do was smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt such joy.

Somewhere between miles 17 and 18, though, things changed. My heart started to race and I had to stop. I didn’t think I was pushing the pace. My legs felt good, but my heart was saying to slow down. It was the first time I had struggled during the race so I looked at my arm that said, “relax” and took a deep breath. “You’re fine,” I said. “Don’t panic.”

The 5:30 pace group caught up to me so I decided to just run with them. I would run when they ran and walked when they walked. I enjoyed being part of the group and not being the “lone wolf” on the course. Around mile 20, though, I started to fall back. I was feeling fatigue.

By mile 21 I was in pain. My IT band was on fire and I felt like someone was sticking a knife in the side of my knee. My quads were very tight. Brita rode up next to me on her bike and she could see I was struggling. She told me it was gut-check time and I pounded my fist against my chest—signifying it was “all heart” from here on out. I knew this point in the race would come. I kept looking at the “no quit” written on my other arm. “There’s no quit in you,” I said, as if my body was a separate entity.

I seemed to go on autopilot. I could still see the pace group in the distance. I had wanted to finish under 5:30 so I felt some disappointment, but I also realized: “I’m doing it! I’m running a marathon!”

Some volunteers offered me ibuprofen, but I waved them off. The pain was part of the marathon and I wanted to experience it all. I wanted to earn this…like I was undergoing some type of initiation. Down the road some more volunteers offered me Biofreeze pain reliever. “I love pain!” I yelled. Apparently I was now delusional.

At mile 24 Brita gave me my final pep talk and said she would see me at the finish line. I was on my own now. Those last two miles seemed incredibly long. I was really hurting, but this race wasn’t going to break me.

I ran the final four blocks, saw the cheering crowd, heard people yelling, “You did it!” I waved, pumped my fist, and threw my arms in the air. I was going to enjoy my moment! As I crossed the finish line they announced my name and they said it correctly! That never happens in a race. A volunteer held open the finisher’s medal and said, “Get in here!” and I charged like a bull through the loop of the ribbon.

Laura was there at the sideline and I gave her a hug. I didn’t want to leave the finish line area. Finishing a marathon was the most incredible feeling in the world! I just wanted to hang on to that feeling as long as possible!!

Brita came up to me and it was more hugs. Having someone out on the course to support me meant so much. I could feel the tears in my eyes. I was emotionally overcome by the whole experience. Everything I had been through that season, all the hard work, all the pain and sacrifice, was flooding over me. I knew what Laura meant about being a first-time marathoner and how I knew I would never feel this again.

I finished in 5:32, just off my goal. I wouldn’t be going to Boston any time soon, but I had finished. Running a marathon takes many hours of training, but it also takes a strong will and an indomitable spirit. When I needed it, I had shown the mental toughness to go to the end. I felt proud, happy, relieved. Time for ice cream!

Training Mishaps

It was in January that a crazy idea began to creep into my brain. Maybe I could run a marathon. I blocked out the memory of last year’s half marathon, which seemed really far at the time. I needed a big-time goal and I didn’t want to think I had done “half” of anything.

Through the summer I added the mileage, but my main focus was on triathlons. The swimming and biking provided great cross training, but it was tough to get in a long run on the weekend when I had a tri. I decided to cut my tri season short so I could focus on my marathon training. My last tri would be Hickory Grove on Aug. 29. This was a special race for me. I was traveling to the race with my friend, Brita, who would be doing her first race since beating breast cancer.

I was not healthy entering the race. I had been rehabbing a sore hamstring all week, I had a cold and fluid in my ear from an ear infection. I wanted to be there for Brita. As soon as I began the swim, though, I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day. My body felt very weak, like when you’re sick and the smallest activity can sap your energy. For the first time ever, I thought about dropping out of a race. Then I thought about Brita. She was out here racing after having gone through chemo! If she was tough, I had to be tough too. “Suck it up!” I told myself as I exited the water.

I got on the bike and before I even left transition I could feel my legs shaking. The bike course was three 5-mile loops so I told myself to just try the first loop and see how I felt. I got through one and then another. Soon I was off on the run.

I ran with another girl for awhile. I was running on the grass on the shoulder of the road. “Do you always run on grass?” she asked me. “I’m training for a marathon,” I said. “I’m just trying to save wear and tear on my legs.” Like those three miles would damage me. She wanted to walk so I left her behind. I turned onto the path leading back into the park. Just like my last tri, there was someone in my age group up ahead. I knew I had to find a way to beat her.

I pushed myself to get by her and for the rest of the race I fought to hold her off. I wasn’t feeling well, but if this was going to be my last tri of the season, I wanted to leave it all out there. I finally crossed the finish line and dropped to my knees, pouring water over the back of my neck. Ironically, it was Brita that picked me off the ground. I still felt lightheaded, but I rebounded after some hydration and food. I heard about how Brita had finished, her arms raised in triumph. That made it all worth it. We finished the day with some much-deserved ice cream!

If there is one thing I’ve learned in run training…I need a GPS! Either my mind wanders or I don’t really know where I’m going, but I find a way to get lost. My latest incident involved me running the New Bo Half Marathon course. I saw that the CVRA running club was doing a training run. I’m a member of the club, but I hadn’t really done any training with the group. I was looking to do 16 miles and they would have water on the course, so it seemed like an ideal situation.

I started out before the group so I could get a head start. The course started at the Chrome Horse, headed out on Otis Road and then got on the Sac & Fox Trail. The CVRAers caught up to me on Otis Road. I knew I couldn’t keep up with them and the last of their group passed me as we entered the trail.

I came to a fork in the trail and I didn’t see which way the group had gone. I looked, but I couldn’t see anyone. Now, metaphorically speaking, a fork in the road is when you make a choice that will affect your life. In this case, I made the wrong one. I headed down the trail. Were they that far ahead of me in such a short period of time? Where was that water stop? I had never been on this trail so maybe it loops around and that’s why I wasn’t seeing anyone else. Suddenly the trail just ended and I realized I had gone the wrong way. I looked at my watch. I was on mile 11, which meant it would be 22 miles to get back home! I wanted to cry. “There’s no crying in running!” I told myself.

Maybe someone would come back for me. What ever happened to leave no man (or woman) behind? This wasn’t the Marine Corps and I had to accept that no one would be looking for me and there would be no water stop. I was on my own. I headed back on the trail. I eventually got to the other end, but I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t want to waste any more miles so I walked up to a housing development.

I asked a guy how to get to Cedar Rapids. “Where are you from?” he asked. “Um, I’m from Cedar Rapids,” I replied. How embarrassing! “Oh, you’re about 8 miles from town,” he said. My heart sank. I was tired, dehydrated and about ready to hitchhike. Fortunately, the eight miles turned out to be four, but my body was not prepared for 22 miles. I was one hurting unit.

Note to self…know where you are going and how to get there!