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!

Finding the Fun

This past month has been all about getting the fun back. A friend had told me that I’m too obsessed with my time, which gets me stressed and then I don’t have any fun. I’m competitive and I said my time was the only way I had to measure success. I had to admit, though, it had not been a fun year for me.

When I didn’t meet my goals at the Pigman I moped around all afternoon, instead of enjoying a great post-party with the MWX club. That was followed by the disappointment of the Hy-Vee Tri (weather shortened the race). When I didn’t run a good Fifth Season 8K I allowed it to ruin my whole Fourth of July.

Rosie, MWX prez and all-around wise person, asked me if looking at my watch during a race helped or hindered me. Okay, not running my goal time caused me stress. “Throw away the watch,” she said. Run a race without my Garmin?! She told me to just go out and have fun.

I headed to the Bix 7 in Davenport, leaving my watch at home. It was raining so I didn’t wear my iPod either. It was like I was naked out there! It rained the entire race, but I just focused on relaxing and enjoying the experience.

The weather didn’t keep the spectators away, who always come out to support the runners. I high-fived a group of little girls who were at a birthday party, I waved to the crowd and when I passed a time clock, I stopped myself from figuring out my pace in my head. By the end of the 7-mile race I was running strong and realizing how lucky I was to be able to do this. Did it really matter what my time was? (Okay, it still mattered a little bit!).

Later that day I found out a man had died on the course. He was 41-years old and had done the race before. It was a muggy day and I wondered if he had pushed himself too hard…if he was trying to beat a certain time. It put things in perspective for me.

It was then on to the Camp Courageous Triathlon. It would be the first time that I would race without a wetsuit. I was a little nervous, but I took it nice and easy so I wouldn’t panic in the water if I got tired. The swim was no problem and it was on to the bike.

The bike was a beautiful course through the “Grant Wood Country” of Jones County. I really wanted to bike hard. Up ahead I saw them…a pack of newbies. They were casually biking along, unaware I was gunning for them. One-by-one, I picked them off. I liked that there were a lot of first-timers in this race; it gave me someone to pass!

As I hopped off the bike, I knew there wasn’t much left in my legs. I could immediately feel the heat and I dumped water on my head as I left transition. All the people I passed on the bike were now passing me on the run. For inspiration, the night before I had watched the Hy-Vee Triathlon pro race. I felt like Sara McLarty. She was the first one out of the water at Hy-Vee, led the entire bike portion, then had a sucky run and got passed by everyone. (Not that I ever led anything, but it’s disappointing nonetheless).

Up ahead I saw her. She had a “45” on the back of her leg. Someone in my age group! I figured she was the only other one in my age group still out here and I just wanted to beat her. I knew with the time-trial start, passing someone didn’t mean anything, but it was all I had to hold on to.

I saw 45 pull about 75 yards ahead of me. The dream was slipping away. The heat was brutal and I could feel myself getting dehydrated. At the turnaround I just cared about finishing. Then I saw it…was it just a mirage? It was 45 and she was walking! Was she just taking a break, or had she given up? I drew closer, and inexplicably, I pulled up six feet behind her and started walking too. It was strategy. We were heading up the last little hill before the finish. I thought if I tried to pass her now and she gave chase, I wouldn’t be able to hold her off. I waited until the top of the hill and then I went for it.

I passed her. Was she coming after me? Did I have enough left in my legs? I didn’t want to turn around so I waited until a car went by in the opposite direction and then I acted like I was looking at the car. 45 was still back there and she was still walking. I was a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to race me.

I made it to the finish line and all I wanted was to lie down in the shade. I wasn’t feeling very well and it took some time to get my legs back. I wasn’t sure if it had been “fun” but I was able to relish the little things in a race, like passing one 45-year old woman.

I Am A Warrior!

As I wrote about last month, the Hy-Vee Triathlon got reduced to a sprint-distance race and then they wouldn’t let me finish due to the weather. I wasn’t just upset with the race; I was angry at the whole Hy-Vee corporation for “crushing my dreams.”

Okay, so I couldn’t really blame Hy-Vee for the weather, but I decided I wasn’t going to set foot in a Hy-Vee store. Well, Hy-Vee Drug does have a good wine selection so maybe they could be the exception. I do really like Hy-Vee cake (love that frosting) so maybe there was a loophole for eating their products. Okay, so the ban on Hy-Vee was not going to work.

I guess I needed someone to blame. The harsh reality was that if I had pushed myself harder in the swim and the bike, I would have been out on that run course when the storm hit and I could have finished. I had approached the swim and bike like I was still doing an Olympic and pacing myself.

I heard a movie quote recently that really struck me. It was in “Evan Almighty,” the Steve Carell comedy about a man who is told by God to be a modern-day Noah and build an ark. God was played by Morgan Freeman. Morgan Freeman has this wonderful voice; every time he speaks he sounds like he is imparting wisdom. In the film he says, “If you pray for courage, does God give you courage or does he give you opportunities to be courageous?”

I couldn’t get that quote out of my head. Maybe Hy-Vee had not taken away my dream. Maybe I had not taken advantage of my opportunity. In every race we are given an opportunity. It’s up to us what we do with it.

The week after Hy-Vee I participated in the Warrior Dash. Club member Jody Rausch had talked me into doing it. It didn’t take much convincing…it was a 5K race on an obstacle course that included crawling through mud and jumping over fire! It was just what I needed—a fun race with no pressure.

The Warrior Dash is held all over the U.S. so the Midwest Region race was near Chicago. You signed up for a wave time so we drove over that morning for the 11:30 wave start. We parked at the Chicago Speedway and they bused us to the race site.

“You can smell the turkey legs cooking,” said Jody, “or maybe that’s the smell of burning flesh.” Not a pleasant thought. As we stood at the starting line the announcer got us fired up and we gave our best warrior screams. Two torches shot out fire and it was so hot we could feel it.

We started out by running cross country. Jody ran off ahead and I ran with club member Julie Kann. Soon we were running down a dirt hill into the woods. This race is big into mud so I had a choice of running through mucky mud or through a large mud puddle. At first I chose the path, but I almost lost my shoe. I figured I was going to get muddy anyway so might as well splash through the mud water.

I climbed over a large wooden spool and then pulled myself up a mud hill, followed by crawling through tunnels. It was on to the car junkyard where I climbed over the hoods of multiple vehicles. I was having a ball, but this course was also demanding!

There was more climbing over walls, wading through muddy waters and over straw bales. The tough part for me was the cargo net. I had forgotten I was scared of heights and here I was, climbing up a rope fence, my muddy feet slipping as I pulled myself up. Please don’t fall, I told myself.

It was then on to running up and down a million little hills. I was getting tired! I was approaching the fire jump. The fire was taller than I expected so I really needed to propel myself over. No charred legs; that’s good!

The final obstacle was the mud pit, where we had to crawl under barbed wire. This was the spectator area and they yelled for me to dive into the mud. All the guys were doing it, but I really didn’t want to go face-first into the mud! I crawled on my hands and knees and then up one final mud hill.

At the finish line they gave me a medal and I put on my warrior helmet (complete with horns) to signify I was a warrior! I think this warrior attitude is going to carry me for the rest of the season…