The Dairy Queen Temptation

The picture is me, dressed as a polar bear, for this year's Polar Plunge.

It was March 31 and I stood at the Dairy Queen, staring at the blizzard board. I was picking out the last blizzard I would be able to have for a long time. I have two training schedules—my winter or off-season schedule and the Hardcore Schedule, which kicked off April 1. My love of ice cream would now be limited to post-race rewards.

My self-discipline did not last long, however. On April 8 I was challenged by a co-worker to consume the “Cup of Death”—a 32 oz. McDonald’s Triple Thick chocolate shake. This one shake contains 1160 calories. I was challenged to drink it in one hour. I downed it in 20 minutes, brain freeze and all.

You see, if I hadn’t become a triathlete, I wanted to be a competitive eater. They are the ones who consume 30 hot dogs at a sitting. Despite my size, I was always able to consume large quantities of food and I never backed down from a challenge. So despite my dedication to the triathlete lifestyle, I drank the fat-laden McDonald’s shake. I felt guilty so that night I swam many laps at Masters, often feeling like my swollen belly would drop me to the bottom of the pool like a lead weight.

As people left the pool that night I kept swimming, determined to burn off every last calorie. Coach Nick said Lane 4 was empty and I could move over there. Me? In Lane 4? In case you don’t know, the outside lanes are for slow people, middle lanes for fast. My home was Lane 6. Lane 4 was for the Barry Breffles of the world. I felt empowered in Lane 4…faster, stronger. I was the last one out of the pool that night because I didn’t want to leave Lane 4, enjoying the fantasy that I was an elite swimmer. Maybe someday.

My other training is still coming slowly, but I’m trying to crank it up in the last few weeks before my first race. During my physical my doctor checked out my hurt elbow and said I have an inflamed nerve. It causes pain in my arm and numbness in my fingers. Being the stubborn triathlete that I am, I didn’t want to take any time off. Fortunately, I have a doctor who understands that. She said as long as I can take the pain, I won’t permanently harm my body. No more excuses; time to suck it up.

For the record, my final decision at the Dairy Queen was the Oreo Cheesequake Blizzard. It contains Oreo cookies and cheesecake (what a combo!). I am a member of the Blizzard Fan Club so they send me coupons, further tempting me. It’s also the 25th anniversary of the blizzard so it would be un-American not to partake, right?

So many things are out there trying to derail my training. I guess the more I eat, the more I have to train or vice-versa. All you can do is keep-tri-ing……..

Don't Let Walls Stop You

Last month’s Freezefest 5K was my first race of the year. I knew it wasn’t going to be good. I had not been running very much. It was a perfect day for a winter race—sunny and in the 20’s. I knew it wasn’t my day when a white Eskimo dog ran by me. He wasn’t even pulling a sled! Not even my lucky boxer shorts helped!!

My finishing time was 29 seconds slower than last year. I did find out later that the course was a little long, but I wouldn’t be able to say I PRed every race this year. This is not how I wanted my season to begin.

We sometimes become focused on one sport in the off-season. For me, everything had been about swimming. I knew I had to improve my swimming if I wanted to do an Olympic distance. I was making strides. On Feb. 25 I did a timed 500 that was two minutes faster than two months ago! I was thrilled, but at the same time I was bothered that I was not running.

I really enjoy running, for so many reasons. I love that runner’s high and how I can clear my head on a run. Everything seems more in focus after a run. You really feel a sense of accomplishment. Something was different this off-season. I didn’t want to run and I didn’t know why. It had to be mental and sometimes those are the hardest roadblocks to break through.

I was also fighting pain in my elbow. It sucks when you have an injury this early in the season. Normally you might feel you could afford to take some time off to heal. For me, though, I needed my elbow to swim and I couldn’t lose the endurance I had built up. That 1-mile swim was less than three months away and I couldn’t stop now.

I think there is a certain level of pain that comes with being a triathlete. We have to walk a fine line between keeping healthy and fighting through the injuries that come with the punishment we inflict on our bodies. For now, I was choosing self-treatment and “pain denial” over taking any time off.

So despite my swimming gains, as a whole my off-season is not going well. I refuse to believe that this is an omen for my season. Achieving your goals means more when you have to struggle to get there.

A fellow club member and friend is fighting cancer right now so I choose to take her lead and be a fighter! Her struggle is so much greater than anything us MWXers will endure this season. Brita and I would have been racing together in the same age group so, in a way, I feel like I am racing for the both of us. She wouldn’t be a quitter and she wouldn’t let anything, whether mental or physical, stand in her way. Michael Jordan said when you hit a wall you don’t let it stop you. You just have to figure out how to climb it, go through it or work around it. Or in my immortal words, you have to keep tri-ing!

Training Bloopers

As we start gearing up for the 2010 season, I look back at how far I’ve come. I have to laugh at some of the “training bloopers” that have occurred to me. Maybe they weren’t so much funny, as embarrassing.

The most recent occurred at Milky Way Masters swim practice. I normally swim at Kennedy High School, but over winter break we had an evening swim at Washington. I was in my swim gear and ready to go, but I wanted to use the bathroom first. Someone directed me to the locker room. As I entered the locker room the door made a loud thud behind me and I just knew. Yes, I was locked in.

I knew no one would hear me if I pounded on the door so there had to be another way out. I made my way through the dark locker room and found a door that led to the outside. I envisioned getting lost in the snow outside Washington H.S. and someone finding my frozen, lifeless body. No, there had to be another way out. I found a door that led down some steps and through another door. Soon I was standing in the hallway of the high school.

At the end of the hall there was a group of high school boys who smiled and said “hi.” Keep in mind, I am walking down the hall in only a swimsuit, swim cap and goggles. I tried to forget that I was half-naked and asked if they could direct me to the pool. They pointed across the hall. Here I thought my embarrassing high school moments had ended long ago.

I have had a number of biking bloopers, most of them having to do with me going over with my bike. One was in my first Pigman Tri. I had borrowed a friend’s road bike and I was finishing the bike portion. As I headed towards the dismount line I realized that I could not get clipped out. I had to make a quick decision. The side of the road was lined with people but I saw a small grassy opening so I put the bike down, almost taking out several spectators. As I lay sprawled on the ground a guy said, “You’re supposed to dismount over there.” I smiled and got up, my side covered in mud.

Bike mishap #2 occurred a few months later, shortly after I bought my Felt. I was riding on the trail, trying to figure out my bike computer. Somehow I lost control of my bike and didn’t realize I was only clipped out of one pedal. Over I went. I put my hand down to break my fall and could feel my ankle twist in the foot that was still in the pedal.

I stayed on the ground for a moment, still under my bike. “What is with me and bikes?” I contemplated. Suddenly there was an old lady standing over me. “Are you okay?” she asked. Unfortunately, I get asked that a lot. It happened on my first Pigman swim when another swimmer asked me if I was okay because I looked like I was about to drown. No, I’m not okay! I don’t know what I am doing out here!

This latest bike crash sent me to the doctor with a sprained ankle and wrist and I had to drop out of the Trihawk. Since I needed to explain why I crashed my bike for no apparent reason, I told people I swerved to save a family of raccoons. It’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

I can’t recall any specific running mishaps, other than the embarrassment of being passed in a 5K by people pushing strollers. The point is, you sometimes have to laugh at yourself. I realize that my “bloopers” were all part of my triathlon learning curve. It’s the adversity that makes you keep tri-ing. Oh, and for the record, I haven’t put my bike down in a long time!

Mastering My Swimming Fears

I finally joined the Milky Way Masters swim club. I’ve always been a bit intimidated by the name. I wasn’t the master of anything. Maybe the coaches were like martial arts masters that possessed secret knowledge. Maybe the MWM could help me master swimming.

To understand my swimming journey, you first have to know where I’ve been. It was the 1970’s and like many small-town kids, my parents sent me off to swimming lessons at the community pool. It would be over-dramatic to say I almost drowned, but it was one of the more traumatic experiences in my life.

As part of my beginning test I had to jump into the deep end of the pool. I jumped out too far and when I couldn’t reach the side, I panicked. I started sinking. I splashed with my arms, trying to stay above the surface, only to go under again. I thought, “one of the instructors will jump in and save me” but they never did. I don’t know how many times I went under, but they finally took a long pole and stuck it in the water. The first time it slipped through my hands. I was finally able to grab it and they pulled me in. I sat on the side of the pool, crying, choking, gasping for air. My mother took me home and I begged her not to make me go back. From that day on, I would never go into water unless I could touch bottom.

Flash forward to early 2007. I had decided I wanted to do a triathlon. I would have to learn to swim. I signed up for an 8-week course at the YMCA. I learned the crawl, but I had trouble with the breathing. Every time I crossed the line into the deep end of the pool I could feel my heart beat faster and I would have this overwhelming feeling that I couldn’t breathe.

I continued doing lap swims at the Bender city pool, but I couldn’t seem to go more than a few strokes before pulling my head out of the water. I decided to swim the Pigman that way. Needless to say, I recorded one of the slowest swim times in the entire race.

Midwest Xtreme formed shortly thereafter. At the first group swim Greg Bodeker saw my swim style and said “You can’t swim like that.” He told me I was using too much energy. I would have to really learn to swim.

I spent the next two seasons doing hours and hours of lap swims, but I still couldn’t breathe. I used to cry because I was so frustrated. Why couldn’t I get it? What did the other swimmers know that I didn’t? My times got a little better, but that seemed to be due to endurance and not technique. I knew I needed help. I talked to my swim buddy, Cole Stepanek, about getting a swim coach. She said we should go to Masters.

I knew a lot of triathletes went to Masters. I felt intimidated and I didn’t want everyone to know how bad I was. That first night Cole called me to make sure I was going (I almost chickened out) and I found my place in the slow lane.

Coach Nick immediately declared that “he could take 10 minutes off my time.” I think I became Nick and John’s special project. They worked with me on my breathing and my stroke. I felt humiliated and singled out, but I knew they had helped me. Cole called me before the next practice to make sure I was going. Part of me never wanted to go back, but I swallowed my pride and went.

There was so much to remember and I felt like I was on information overload. Nick broke it down for me. “Just try to swim from one end of the pool to the other without stopping,,,and then do it again.” That became my focus. Even though it felt like my lungs would burst, I kept going. When I swam the length of the pool for the first time I could feel the tears in my eyes. I had done it! What other people take for granted, was a major accomplishment for me. “Just do it again,” I said. I swam back and resisted that urge to pull my head out of the water. “You can breathe. You are not going to drown,” I convinced myself. I was actually swimming!

During one practice Nick announced we were going to do a 500-yard timed-swim. We would all start at the same time. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew I was the slowest swimmer there and I envisioned swimming back and forth, long after everyone else had finished, Sure enough, I was out there by myself.

I was surprised to find Jody Rausch, MWX member and USAT coach, waiting at the far end of the pool. She was there to cheer me on. “You’re not a quitter,” she said, using my own words from a previous column. I kept going. When I finished that final lap everyone was congratulating me and fist-bumping me, like I had been first instead of last. I was receiving the same support here that I received from the tri club. I was starting to feel good about swimming.

I have a goal: to swim a mile at the Hy-Vee Triathlon. I have a lot of work to do, but with the support of MWM and MWX, I feel like I am a little closer. Above all, you have to keep tri-ing!

The Season That Almost Wasn't

December is a good time to look back at the year—what went wrong and what went right. I had my best season…but it almost was the season that wasn’t.

My confession…I almost quit doing triathlons in 2008. I had just completed my first Trihawk. Things did not go well. I remember starting the run and seeing that the rest of my club had already finished the race. I was embarrassed, frustrated, depressed. Why was I doing this? It was only my fourth triathlon, but I had not seen any improvement in my times from my first one. “I really suck at this,” I said to myself.

I made up my mind that I was just going to quit. What stopped me? It was the Midwest Xtreme Tri Club. I love being in the club. I love being a part of something and most of all, I love the people in the club. They really are like my brothers and sisters. I knew quitting would mean giving that up.

So…I made a deal with myself. I would work really hard in the off-season and try to improve. I would have one more season…one year to prove I belonged. I worked on improving my skills. I got stronger and faster. I made the commitment to be a triathlete.

My third Pigman came around in June. I had trained hard for this moment and now I would see if it had paid off. When the dust settled I had improved my Pigman time by 12 minutes! I had a long ways to go, but I was finally making progress.

I went on to do three triathlons and five running races…and I PRed every race. I even ran my first Half Marathon, something that was unimaginable to me. It was my dream season of sorts. And when things got tough in each race I would say to myself, “there is no quit in you.” Quitting was no longer an option and I’m so glad I gave myself a second chance.

I have BIG plans for next year and I want to take my triathlons and running to the next level. Each race this year gave me greater confidence and the support of the MWX club has been a big part of that. You helped me live up to the words “Keep Tri-ing.” Thank you!

Run Like A Kenyan!

I was on about mile 11 of the Des Moines Half Marathon when a Kenyan blew by me. He was going to finish the marathon in less time than it took me to run half a marathon…talk about a reality check. “I need to run like that,” I said to myself as I studied his form.

I’m not sure what convinced me I could run 13 miles. It didn’t seem that long ago that I thought a 5K was far. This year, though, had been about raising the bar and jumping over it.

I had run the “Run the Flood” in June. It was my second 7-mile race and I thought, “What’s another 10K on top of that?” It seemed like a crazy idea, but at the Hy-Vee Triathlon Expo I found myself drawn to the booth for the Des Moines Marathon. The guy told me the Half course was flat and a good one for a first-timer. I took the information home and found myself poring over the details while in bed at night. I couldn’t actually run a Half Marathon, could I?

After weeks of indecision, I knew I needed to make the commitment or forget about it. I signed up, knowing that would force me to do it. I would need to increase my running mileage while also keeping up with my triathlon training. I followed the written schedule, which topped off at 10 miles. How would I know I could run 13 miles in a race if I had never done it in practice?

The race was Oct. 18. I traveled to Des Moines the day before and went to the expo, where I met Terry Hitchcock. At age 57 he ran 75 marathons in 75 consecutive days. The guy looked like Santa Claus and he certainly didn’t have the body of a runner. He invited me to come to his seminar. Talk about inspirational! If he could run 2000 miles, I could certainly make 13. I won an autographed copy of his book, which I chalked up as Positive Sign #1. (Yes, I believe the universe sends me signs!)

That night I headed out from my hotel room in search of pasta. It’s true what they say…there really IS a Starbucks on every corner. The only places to eat in the area were fast food so I ended up going to the Wal-Mart deli and getting chicken strips and potatoes and gravy. So much for my pre-race meal!

The next morning I headed to the race site in the dark. I always have to be at a race site early so I can use the bathroom at least four times. It was in the 30’s and cold so I sat in my vehicle in the parking garage. My legs were shaking…was it the cold or my nerves? I freak out before every race. I suddenly was filled with a singular thought…I had never run 13 miles before. I started to panic. I looked outside the garage and the building across the street said “The Kenyon Company-1907.” It was a different spelling of Kenyan, but I considered it Sign #2. A calm overtook me. “Let’s DO this,” I said with determination and I headed to the starting line.

I looked for MWX member Cole, who was walking the race with her sister, but I saw no familiar faces in the crowd of thousands. I found my place with my pace group, my heart pounding with excitement. Although it was legal to wear music, I left the ipod at home. I knew this race would be mental for me and I needed absolute focus.

The race started and we were off! I settled into a nice, easy pace and I kept repeating the mantra “one mile at a time.” I wasn’t going to think about 13 miles. I was just going to run one mile and then run another mile and then another.

At mile two I took off my nylon pants. (Yes, I had shorts on!). I had never ditched clothing during a race before, but they said the clothes would be collected for the needy. I didn’t mind losing the pants because they weren’t mine! Months ago someone had left a bag of clothing at the edge of my front yard. I don’t know if it was dropped accidentally or dumped there, but it contained a pair of nylon running pants. Maybe it was fate those pants were left there!

I had been afraid that I might not make the turn-off and end up on the marathon route. Like I could “accidentally” run 26 miles! No fear, a girl with a bullhorn told us where to turn. We headed into a park and there I was greeted by Disco Man. He was wearing bright clothing and a wig and singing “Play That Funky Music.” I was having fun now.

About mile 6 I felt a knot in my leg. Brief moment of panic. “Suck it up,” I told myself. Per Coach Rosie’s instructions, I did a 60-second walk at each water station. It kept me going mentally to know I would have that short break.

As I made the loop in the park I passed Disco Man again. He called out words of encouragement as he started singing “Green Acres.” I just wished he could follow me the whole race! At the midway point I was feeling strong. At mile 9 the music was blaring “Last Dance” by Donna Summer. It was another sign! I had sung that song in the car on the way to Club Nationals in Oklahoma. “I’m really going to do this,” I smiled to myself.

About mile 10 things started getting tough. I was feeling it in my legs. I tried to pretend I was just running a 5K, but the last few miles seemed long. I was feeling hungry and the energy chews were not doing it. As we turned down the home stretch I wanted to sprint the last quarter mile, but I could only muster a run in the final 25 yards. Thirteen miles hurts.

Like a zombie I wandered over to the food, plopping down in front of the porta potties. I didn’t care where I was at; I didn’t have the energy to move. Eating made me feel better. I went back to the parking garage to get warm clothes and was told the elevator was out. Are you kidding me?! My legs didn’t want to climb stairs.

I wore my finisher’s medal like a badge of honor for the rest of the day. I had missed my goal time by two minutes, but I knew I had accomplished something big in my life. Me, the non-runner, had run 13 miles! I felt empowered. I can do anything!! It was a great way to end my season.

Keep Tri-ing!

Triathlon Club Nationals

“Oklahoma! Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain…” Ah, the song was sung (or shouted) many times as our tri club traveled to the Club Nationals in Oklahoma City.

I was the Sherpa—that’s the support person who helps the racers perform their best. We had 10 competitors: Rosie Lee, Greg Bodeker, Roy & Deb Gaddis, Belinda Gee, Brita Loynachan, Ron &Dottie Gierut, Dennis Baier and Diane Cisewski. Bob Gee was our other support person.

I was so proud of our club! We kicked butt at our Club Nationals debut, finishing third in our division.

I had wanted to compete, but two things held me back. I envisioned that Oklahoma City would be hot and I wouldn’t be able to wear my wetsuit. I also thought that “Club Nationals” meant it would be the best-of-the-best and I would be out of my league. Basically, I was scared. As it turned out, the race was wetsuit legal and there were a wide variety of skill levels competing. I was disappointed that, as a song says, I had “let the fear take the wheel and steer.” I would have to be content being the top photographer and cow bell ringer.

Our caravan of cars left early on Sept. 18, stopping in Kansas City to eat at Arthur Bryant’s BBQ. I had to admit it was nice to just relax and not be stressing about an upcoming race. By late afternoon we had arrived.

Saturday was spent preparing the bikes and visiting the Oklahoma City Memorial. It’s a memorial to the Oklahoma City bombing. If you ever get a chance to see it, especially at night, check it out.

Saturday night it was off to the race site, where I first experienced the big, red, mucky mess. Two straight weeks of rain had turned the grounds into something resembling a cow yard. There were even people walking around in rubber boots.

It also was my first glimpse of a real, live Ironman-distance race. It was at the 12-hour mark and these athletes were out running in the dark, fighting exhaustion and mental fatigue. I knew by midnight some of them would still be here, trying to beat that 17-hour time limit. I couldn’t even imagine.

Rosie hosted a “Touching Party” in her hotel room. Actually it was a “Tattoo Party” where everyone received their MWX temporary tattoos, but some people misheard the name and it became a running joke for our group.

Sunday was race day! Seeing our three Sprint distance athletes (Brita, Dottie and Diane) in their wetsuits I could feel their nervous energy. I SO wanted to be out there! I grabbed my camera and headed to the beach, walking on rocks so I would not sink in the mud, which was now like quicksand. The weather had moved the buoys overnight so they had to re-do the race course. The swimmers would swim out-and-back, parallel to the beach. The water was so shallow many of them walked a long distance in the water.

This is the part where “Lori fought the law and the law won.” I was trying to get into position for photo-taking so I was walking on the sidewalk to avoid the mud. I suddenly noticed that there was red fencing on either side of me. A voice came over the loudspeaker telling the person on the run course to get off! Yes, that would be me. All of the people in the grandstands turned and looked at me. I lifted up the fence, but it would only go up a foot so I was going to walk back the way I came. Too late…the first finisher was racing towards me! All I could do was dive under the fence and into the mud.

I set up to photograph the finish, but I could hear that the Olympic swim was starting. This would be tricky trying to capture two races. They announced that they needed “wetsuit strippers”—volunteers to help the athletes out of their wetsuits. I was tempted…but knew I had made other commitments.

I photographed our Sprint finishers, then headed to transition to catch the Olympic bikers, then off to the bike course and then hustled over to the run course. This was hard work! It was great seeing Ron beat all the younger athletes or Belinda fight through pain or Deb light up the run course. I rang my bell, while trying to take photos and yell out words of encouragement. I had to stop myself from running along side them, because the adrenaline was definitely pumping!

We were competing in Division II (130-249 members). Points were awarded in descending order from first to 10^th place with all finishers past 10 receiving one point. We had 6 of our 10 competitors place in the top 3 of their age group. Amazing! I couldn’t believe we came all this way and took third place as a club!! Imagine what we could do with more participants. MWX had not been defeated by the Red Muck! Go Green Team!!

Keep Tri-ing……..