Marathon Report

 TL;DR: It was awful. I finished.

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My First Marathon: Sunday, December 11

(And many sincere thanks to ENELL for giving me this opportunity)

This is a mix of Facebook status updates and stream of conscious writing, because it's my blog, so there.

5:00 AM Wake and grab gear. Discover that new hydration pack bite valve has no valve. Grab pocket knife and make a hole.

6:00 Race out the door and drive to the train station.

6:07 Dart up the stairs to the platform only just in time to catch the train.

6:45 Arrive at event site.

7:05-8:30 Shimmy and shiver violently in the hecking cold.

7:46 I got to pet a doggo named Connie. Let's do this.

8:03 Was beginning to worry because I had no pre-race poo, but then I remembered I didn't eat dinner last night.

8:37 Begin. I decided to walk the first mile since I was freezing and very literally needed to warm up and didn't want to make the mistake of going out too fast. This was a good decision.

10:16 Hokay, that second 5k was uphill, so you may ooh and ahh at my negative split.

10:30 Goddess bless the spectators offering beer! Or, perhaps: Bacchus bless the beer bringers!

I got to run the first 15K with a friend who was running the half marathon. And then the two courses split. Holy crap: the stark visual contrast of separating from the half runners and immediately turning onto a dead empty street on a gray day with no other participants in sight. Demoralizing much?

At that turn, another marathoner on the course asked me where everyone was and ultimately decided to go with the half runners instead. But within the next mile and for the rest of the race, I slowly caught up to and passed a sparse but steady stream of other participants.

Halfway thoughts:

Who. the. FUCK. designed this bitch-ass hilly course?!
Also, I would really like a moist towel to wipe the salt from my face.
Also, I would really like to take my shirt off because it's getting warm, but my arms will chafe and I cannot handle that for 13 more miles. Maybe I'll take it off later.

I'd had super sexy negative splits on each 5K to that point and completed my first marathon half in 3:04. My best half marathon ever was 3:07. I was tired and decided to walk mile 14 and stop to pee.

I legit think dementors were consulted in designing the back half of the course.

Miles ~15-17: Fierce headwinds off the lake, nearly constantly. I ducked my head to keep from losing my visor and trudged forward. The sun was starting to come out and the air was getting warm (not good).

Miles ~17-20.5: Begin ALL concrete concrete concrete, boring trail with slight incline. The never-ending, never-changing, soul-destroying type of hill. Turn after turn, mile after mile, it just KEPT GOING. Even if you know nothing about running, you can imagine that it isn't SO bad to suck it up and run uphill for a couple minutes. But can you imagine doing it for an hour?

I was MAD AS HELL and let the anger carry me through that stretch, those miles which are often cited by runners as the most mentally challenging part of a marathon course, even without terrain to contend with. I literally stormed up that whole stretch like an angry cartoon with a bone to pick and mean mugging that would put Phelps to shame. Which worked, but I couldn't run any of it.

(Above: Me)

I snapped a selfie at the 18-mile mark. 18 was the longest training run I'd managed before the race. My fingers were swelling and beginning to be uncomfortable. I had no idea how much worse they would get.

I let three photographers in a row over the course of many miles catch how I *really* felt and look forward to seeing those photos.

I was SO glad to finally turn back onto the segment of the course that I recognized since it was an overlapping out and back. It felt like the home stretch.

My heart just sank at seeing the 23-mile marker. When would I EVER finish?

Moments later, my right femur head shouted in sudden pain: "Hey, bitch! ... Wanna do the pimp-walk limp for the next mile?—Cuz you're gonna." (Yes, my joints have conversations with me. Usually it's my saying, "STFU, knee! I don't need you!")

The final two-ish miles just went through a really ugly industrial part of town. Like, come on.

A too-peppy runner told me when I was at the last quarter mile and pointed out the photographer to encourage me to run. I think I ran. My brain sent signals to that effect. The pictures make it look like I sort of tried, anyway.

Finish line (or what was left of it)

When they say there's a 6.5-hour course limit, what they mean is that the elite runners in the first wave—who can finish in 3 or less—get a 6.5-hour time limit.

So when the slower runners, who are made to start 35 minutes LATER, run about (or less than) 6.5, the whole event is packed up and gone when they reach the finish line but for the photographers and a few saintly volunteers with medals and gear check.

Whereas many other marathoners talk about being overcome with emotion and crying when they crossed the finish line, I wandered around the area sobbing because THERE WAS NO GODDAMN WATER ANYWHERE AT THE EVENT SITE FOR FUCKING MARATHON FINISHERS!

THERE WAS NO GODDAMN WATER AT THE FUCKING FINISH OF A FUCKING MARATHON!

Aside from being anti-climatic, that's really fucking fucked up.

No food or medics either.

The course was fucking awful and I would never recommend this event to anyone.

I got my things, cried more, changed clothes, and dragged myself back to the train station for the 35-minute ride back to my car. I decided when I got in my car to stop at the pho place on the way home to order takeout for my lonely post-race meal.

The end.

... sort of.

I really thought I would need to stop running altogether for a good long while after this race, but I have some 10K Pokémon eggs to hatch and am likely to try on Saturday before Sunday's freeze. #gottahatchemall

Trinity River Run Race Report

Two thumbs down for the 2016 #TrinityRiverRun last night.

The nearest available parking an hour and a half before the race was 0.6 miles from the start.

Not sure why they even called it the “Trinity River Run” since—instead of using the long, beautiful Trinity River recreation trail—most of the course wound through ugly, smelly parts of Dallas, starting near the jail, and over dangerous cracked and crumbling asphalt and unmarked potholes, closing MANY intersections and obstructing a ridiculous amount of traffic, as well as running us up and down over and under every possible bridge.

And I'm wondering how the heck they can afford all those cops and closure permits—I've never seen so many on just a 10k course—when the event took a HUGE loss last year, which was its first year.

I was killing myself through most of the second half of the race to stay ahead of some asshole wearing strong perfume. WHO THE HELL WEARS PERFUME TO RUN?!

There were too few water stations on the course—no problem for me since I brought and drank all of my water bottle, but I heard several participants complaining of thirst—and they ran out of cups for the second and final water stations.

Then the finish line was a quarter mile away—no exaggeration—from the medals, water, and warm fucking beer.

At the end there were too few trash bins provided, such that I had to set my warm beer on the ground when I left, because the bins were all overflowing onto the pavement, making a big damn mess of such a nice park.

I mostly signed up for this race because last year's tech shirt was so great, but this year's has a poorer quality of fabric and a crummy fit.

Plano Balloon Festival Half Marathon Race Report

For as much excitement as I'd had leading up to this event, it was ultimately sadly anti-climatic in the end.

I'd been dreading the hot weather this event usually has, with North Texas Septembers typically still in the 90s and the Sunday a week prior at a blistering 106°F for Grapevine's Grapefest. But when I checked the forecast that day, I nearly cried: race day would be in the mid-70s.

By Wednesday, though, the forecast showed a 95 percent chance of thunderstorms at race time. It's a rain or shine event, but because the course had been plotted through shady areas in anticipation of dangerous sun and heat, that meant much of it was also on flood plains. And if there was lightning, it would have to be canceled.

By Friday, though, the forecast showed a dry race except for maybe the last mile or so.

I set out my BAWG kit, runderwear, ENELL, and Vibram Five Fingers a few days before the event so I could get up and go quickly.

I met up briefly with a friend at the event, exchanged hugs, and then we trudged to our appropriate pace groups.

The hills on Los Rios that had me nearly in tears on my bike for last year's Blackland Triathlon was a piece of cake. I hopped onto the grassy curb and power hiked up the hills before stepping back onto the road to run down them.

I felt really good for the first 6 miles. I even met a woman running in bright turquoise Medieval Moccasins. She said she'd done several long races in them and highly recommends them for fans of minimalist running. She'd been inspired to put them to that purpose after reading the book Born to Run.

But at about 6.5, I felt my feet begin to blister, though I'd not had that problem before with these shoes. I sat down to pull them off and lube up with some Chamois Butter before continuing. A the 8-mile marker, I was just exhausted and pulled out my phone to say as much on Facebook. Not a minute after I put it back in its zipper-lock baggy, the sky opened up and flooded down on us. Farewell, iPod. (It had stopped working by then anyway.)

Before the mile was out, I was in absolute agony and bit back tears for the next two. I've been running for over 6 years and completed three prior half marathons and a15-mile Spartan Beast, but I had never run on so much concrete. The PBF course was entirely concrete with no break. I'd read that asphalt is softer but never really thought about it, since both seem like hard pavement to me.

My femur heads, where the leg bone connects to the hip bone, were screaming. I was walking way more than I wanted to. My tummy was yucky and I couldn't take the fuel I'd planned on.

After the 10-mile marker, we saw volunteers at the next aid station waving a red flag and they shouted that the course was closed and we had to quit. We were less than three miles from done, but they funneled us onto a trail leading straight back to the festival area. I was a little disappointed but in too much pain to be really upset by it.

As I came through the trees, I heard an announcer on a loudspeaker saying the festival itself was officially canceled. Everyone was ordered to take shelter. The volunteers had all complied, so I wandered toward the finish line and plucked a medal from a pile of open boxes left unattended there. I gathered my things and slowly, gingerly limped up the big-ass hill separating me from my car.

My only race pic. #rainedout #DNF #planoballoonfestival #halfmarathon #BAWG #iamwonderwoman #thisiswhatpainfeelslike #enell #vibramfivefingers #racebling

A photo posted by Moniqa Aylin (@fierymon) on Sep 25, 2016 at 8:54am PDT

I took a few minutes to stretch every aching thing and stood a few minutes longer kind of lost and unsure what to do with myself. It was 10 a.m. on a Sunday, so I couldn't even go grab a beer, because Texas. I drove home through the deluge, drew a hot bath, dozed off in it twice, and dragged myself to bed.

Birthday Racing

I registered for the Cobra Brewing 5k this year because I enjoyed last year's vibe and post-race porter so much. I was really lucky the weather shifted this weekend, giving us a slightly cooler, though very humid, Saturday morning. It really sucked that they decided to start the race as late as 9:30 a.m., but I knew to expect the ugly two-loop course. What I didn't expect was the brewery not offering their porter to race participants, so I went home beer-less and thoroughly disappointed. I definitely won't be registering for that one again. The race photos kinda sucked, too. I might just dress up again and stage my own shoot.

But I ran an awesome 38:03, whereas I've mostly been running 14:30-miles on all my shorter summer runs, and I looked great as Wonder Woman.

Sunday being my birthday, I signed up for the Hottest Half and 10k and ran the 10k. The weather was quite a bit cooler and actually pleasant. The event ran out of race shirts even near my size before I arrived, so I have YET ANOTHER garbage race shirt for which I paid just as much as anyone else and won't get to wear. The course also sucked and I won't be doing this race again either. It was predominantly concrete with a smattering of asphalt and no small bit of painful, rocky, trail. My feet were bruised and cramping because of it.

On the bright side, my costume was inexpensive and far more comfortable than I expected, and I got lots of compliments. I asked a volunteer to write "BDAY" on the back of one of my calves and "BIG 30" on the other, so I got lots of birthday wishes, too. The course had LOTS of support and water stations. I felt strong and really enjoyed myself, even after racing the day before, and I finished with a 13:36 average per-mile pace, WAY better than all my 14-16 training runs.

The pro pics were great and I got a free one, too, as well as a badass medal with my birthday on it. The venue, Community Beer, offered a rich Russian imperial stout called Legion, which went beautifully with my garb and more than made up for the previous day's disappointment.

Race Report: Dash Down Greenville 5k

The Dash Down Greenville 5k takes place before the annual St. Patrick's Day parade and starts and end on the parade route. The announcer said that over 6,000 people registered for this year's race.

Yet AGAIN, Run Project only offered unisex t-shirts and yet again let me order an XS at registration but didn't ever provide any XS shirts. At early packet pickup, they didn't even have any youth larges but said there would be at race-day pickup.

I parked and walked about a mile to the start, loved walking in the street with traffic because the barricades for the parade forced it. I was indeed able to get a youth large shirt, and it fits me mostly well, except for the part where I have a decidedly mature bust.

The morning was cold and windy with the wind chill just barely above freezing. The course was unremarkable. I was there alone, so I was kind of bored with the whole thing. One runner passed me with Flogging Molly playing from a speaker in his backpack, and I wish I'd been able to keep up.

As much as they'd been talking up the free beer at the finish line, you'd think there would have been something more palatable than PBR. But the event raised over $16k for the NT Food Bank, so yay charity.

I won the Instagram contest and got a check for a hundred bucks. I think I was the only one who entered.

I thought about spending it on another Run Project race, but there's only one that promises women's shirts, and it's in July. Which is unbearably hot.

Too Cold to Hold 10k Race Report

Sometime late last year I decided I wanted to train to run a 10k by the end of January but worried about holding myself accountable, so I signed up for the January 31 Too Cold to Hold 10k race at White Rock Lake.

I've been putting off writing a race report because the experience was less than stellar.

A lot of races offer event shirts in the price of registration, but a lot of them don't offer them for women, and it is endlessly irritating. Women make up over half the sport, closer to 60 percent in 5ks but are ignored as having different body shapes than men. I don't want to hear theories about men's shirts being cheaper because they're cut differently; I ain't buying it, because women's sizes require less fabric, and I'm sick and tired of maleness being treated as the default human norm. It took me two hours to alter the last small men's race shirt I received down to fit me, and it's still not very good because I AM NOT A SMALL MAN.

Some events offer unisex shirts instead, which means a men's cut in slightly smaller sizes. That was the case for this event, so I ordered an XS unisex shirt since it's the next closest thing to having a women's cut shirt that would actually fit my body.

I arrived at packet pickup to find that the shirt size I'd ordered was not provided at all. I have 20 race shirts cut up and displayed on my bedroom wall and another dozen sitting in a pile in the sewing room awaiting alterations because these events don't offer women shirts. And they don't offer discounts on the registration price, either, for people with breasts and small waists. It's insulting.

So I didn't get the shirt I paid for, and then the accompanying Too Cold to Hold beanie appeared to have been designed for giants, so my race swag is fit only for the garbage bin. After complaining publicly on Facebook, the event organizer reached out to me and said they were also surprised and disappointed in the quality of the hats ordered, so they ordered finishers' shirts including women's sizes. . . .

Guess what WASN'T at the finish line. There were piles and piles of only men's shirts for an event which the organizer herself said has about 64 percent female participation.

The race itself? It was nice. There was no seeding or separate waves, so it took more than a mile for the crowd to thin enough to run at a comfortable pace; I don't envy anyone trying to hit a PR that day.

I was a little bit sick and a lot sluggish, but I finished. And I looked badass in my Wonder Woman costume, for which I'd found blue shorts only a few days prior. I got a lot of compliments and cheers and one, "Look, it's Super Woman!" from some dude. ONLY men mess that up, you know; this is the second time it's happened. Fake geek guys.

The weather was unexpectedly warm, nearing 65°F before I finished, and many runners struggled since they'd trained in cooler temps for so many weeks. I was SO glad not to be running the half marathon that day. The course around White Rock Lake was pretty as always.

Because parking was limited, we were encouraged to carpool and take public transportation and were told there would be a place to put bicycles with the bag check. I took up that offer, took the DART to White Rock Station, and rode my bike the extra mile and a quarter to the start. I felt speedy and clever whizzing by everyone who'd had to park as far as the train station and walk. I was surprised to see only two other bicycles at the event at all. At the end, feeling irritated, icky, and hot, I was VERY glad to retrieve my bicycle and roll out instead of staying for any post-race activities.

I know the summer event by the same organization offers women's shirts, or at least that's what the race organizer said to me, and I know they have in the past from the one time I volunteered at it. But after this experience, I'm not super keen to spend my money there.

It's great that they support local charities, but Dallas is a big city flush with racing events and several to choose from every weekend of the year, even holidays. I'd rather support a company that recognizes I AM NOT A SMALL MAN.

Race Report: Playtri Stonebridge Ranch Triathlon

After signing up with me for a sprint tri on a whim in the spring, taking a hard fall on the bike course, and not finishing the race, my friend received a free registration for a future race, bought a bicycle and swim lessons, and signed up for the Stonebridge tri because it offered the super short Super Sprint distance. I signed up for the same race so I could be there to support her. She didn’t bike. She didn’t run. She didn’t learn to breathe in the water. She didn’t go. I ran alone.

I did not, however, do the super short Super Sprint. I’d wanted to stick to a challenge more on my level and signed up for the Sprint, which happened to have a 750-meter swim course . . . 50 percent longer than my two open water experiences. Fortunately, I was struck with a bout of depression in the weeks leading up to the event that prevented me from worrying or fretting about the difficulty of such a distance for me.

Race day: I was ready to give the event an F several hours before it started because there was no on-site parking and the transition area was as far away as possible from everything else, specifically, 300 meters from any portapotties and just as far from the swim exit. So after walking my bike nearly a half mile from the car to transition, I walked a quarter mile to get my timing chip and then back to transition, and a third of a mile to and from the portapotties—twice.

One positive: The water was about 10 degrees warmer than my first and only OWS race a year ago. But the air was chilly, so I chose not to warm up and spend another 45 minutes shivering before the race. I was nervous about the swim but confident in my ability to start slow this time behind the other swimmers. It wasn’t as rough as I expected. I didn’t swim well and did spend a fair bit of time on the backstroke and was nervous with so many other swimmers so close. The finish was to the east with the rising sun in my eyes for 300 m.

I supposedly improved my pace by an unbelievable amount since my last tri, so I highly doubt the course was 750 meters. Three weeks ago I’d swum 300 m in a pool race in 9:14 minutes and then Stonebridge in 17:41. Sure, I’ve been taking swim classes, but I’ve not been improving my speed that much, especially in open water.

From the swim finish, we trudged up a 15-foot high hill and back down the other side to the transition. My bike transition is always slow because I need sunblock, socks, and gloves. Whatever.

The fucking bike course STARTED UPHILL for the first HALF MILE. It felt like most of the course, at least two-thirds, was uphill. I felt slow and worried I wouldn’t make the cutoff. I actually improved my bike pace significantly over my last race, though I’d not touched my bike since then, and I know that’s the only part of the course that was measured accurately.

I worried about starting the run with a half hour til the course closed, but the run was on sidewalks and crossed no roads, so I wasn’t that worried. My last three tri 5k paces were 12:28/mi on 3/29, 17:09/mi on 9/7, and then 9:37/mi on this 9/27 event. Nuh-uh. I set an INSANE 12-minute tri PR because the 5k was two miles. How the hell is this shit USAT certified?

The medal was great, the volunteers were great. I will never do another Playtri event because I’m sick of their not offering women’s size shirts and this event pissed me off so much.

Six:02 6k race report

Since my long absence from this blog, I have a few posts elsewhere that I'll be adding and updating here as I am able. This story is from November 2014.

A race report, wherein I shall complain at length about an event targeted at women but not very considerate toward women:

Saturday morning I had a 6k race that a coworker talked me into (because I otherwise avoid women's races like the plague).

The race website encouraged participants to take the DART rail, but I found out in the wee hours of the morning that the DART rail is closed in that part of town every weekend for about two months, and this has been clearly posted on the DART website for at least a month. So I got to drive instead and pay $10 for fucking downtown parking that I hadn't budgeted for.

I had NO IDEA how to dress to run in such weather (30°F), so I gambled with many layers. I always run in Vibram FiveFingers but knew my toes would freeze painfully, so I resigned myself to trying to run in my $15 Wal-Mart sneakers that I only use for walking and that I had to buy a size big to fit the width of my foot. I got to the festival area and found myself pleasantly comfortable standing around, so I stripped off my outer two layers and put the outer one back on so I'd be comfortable to run. I feel like I was REALLY lucky that this combination of gear worked for me. I got one moderate but manageable blister on one foot, and my toes felt OK. Perhaps I ought to invest in a pair of cold-weather running pants, though I've never needed them before.

The event was put on by a women's athletic clothing store called Six:02, which doesn't actually have its own clothing line but sells all the big brands. Its marketing is so bizarre: The copy on their web page goes on about "What's your six:02 moment?" and encourages people to post and tag their #‎six02 moments all over social media (through which I won a $100 gift card to the shop, which is cool). The "Six:02" moment is a moment for yourself when you do something just for you that makes you feel good, related to fitness. It seems to me as if the company is simply co-opting the idea of "self care" and trying to slap their brand on it. It irritates me that they chose such a random time and an even more random arrangement of letters, numbers, and symbols for their brand. The branding seems entirely gibberish.

On the one hand, if the concept works and attracts more women to fitness pursuits, that's great; on the other, the company has some serious problems with understanding its target demographic. The race was advertised as having "pampering" at the end, which sounded like it might be fun. So there were four stations set up: hair styling, makeup touch-ups, manicures, and massage. Guess which one had the longest line. Who would have ever thought that a bunch of sweaty bitches wouldn't want to get their hair and makeup done after running 4 miles? We stood freezing (~30-35°F that morning) in our sweaty gear for 20 minutes to get a stupid shoulder massage, and I felt REALLY bad when I saw that the masseurs' hands were bare.

It was cool that there were speakers set up along the course playing upbeat music and really NOT cool that the first song was about preying on a woman like an animal; and the last song as I left was the catchy and oft-criticized "All About That Bass." Creating a playlist of songs that don't demean women isn't that freaking hard. Women's empowerment: they're doing it wrong.

The swag bag and items they gave out to participants were surprisingly good, and I am curious about how much money they poured into the black hole of this sparsely attended event. Registration was not expensive, and compared to other races I've attended, it's clear they lost a lot on this one. We got a nice quality drawstring bag, hand towel, water bottle, tech t-shirt, and silver medallion necklace at the finish line instead of medals.

I *really* hope they compensated the stylists and masseurs well for standing in the cold 2-3 hours serving everyone with bare fingers. There was an impressive jumbo screen and a few top athletes clearly flown in to help promote the brand, and an impressive level of videography and photography going on for future promotional purposes. It was all very over-the-top for 259 runners.

The course wound through some cool parts of downtown and had minimal hills (but several people complained about how bad the hills were). I ran with two coworkers and we each thought the other two would surely take off and leave us in the dust, but we all pushed one another harder than we would have pushed ourselves and finished with an average 11:30 min/mi pace, WAY better than any of us hoped for. One had been struggling with her C25K training and had only run a 5k race once before. The other had given up on training for several weeks or months, and I've been a solidly slow runner: I struggled through a sub-40 3-mile treadmill run earlier that week. We had a really good time together.

I understand that this was a record freeze for Dallas that swept in the same week of the race so they were caught off-guard. They were REALLY lucky that the location and course weren't windy. Could they have bought bulk hand warmers at Sam's Club to offer to participants? Could they have sent out an email with tips for dressing and running in cold weather, especially since there are so many first-timers at this event? Maybe offer leg and feet massages? A foam rolling station and knowledgeable demonstrator? A bag check so we could bring enough clothes to be warm before and after the race and not have to run while carrying all that cool swag? A friend suggested: "If you wanted to do something 'make-uppy' how about parifin treatments for windburned hands? That would be warm at least. And MORE massages, in a heated tent of course, and on a 'take-a-number' system so people could mill about and drink hot things instead of standing in line."

*Edited to add: I also remember hearing a shitty country song sung by a man crooning about a woman's boobs busting out of her bikini top.

I also forgot to kvetch about the HUNDREDS of helium balloons lining Katy Trail, many of which had popped and littered the area before I passed. Helium is a limited resource (and at a worldwide shortage) necessary in medical and other science fields. Latex is a common allergy, and littering a nature trail is fucking shitty.

I hope there's a post-race survey, or I will find another way to offer constructive feedback.

Historic McKinney Kiwanis Triathlon Race Report: Finish

I texted to ask the other woman how it went. She said she fell off her bike, broke her wrist, and didn’t finish. Holy crap. Why hadn’t she contacted me, the only person she knew in the area? She hadn’t brought her phone on the course with her and because she didn’t know anyone’s number, she refused the paramedics insistence on taking her to the hospital, accepted their painkiller cocktail, and instead gathered her things and drove herself to the ER. I felt so awful for her. If I’d known, I could have taken care of all her gear and bike, could have called my roommate to pick me up and put the bikes in either the truck or the SUV they have.

She was worried about not wanting to do the Memorial Day triathlon for which she’d won a free registration that had made me silently insanely jealous because I could never afford such a thing and it was all a random whim to her. I told her not to worry about that now but to rest and heal and think about it later, that some events allow transfers in case of severe injury, and that I might be able to pay whatever fee for it if they allowed it. Later in the day, the x-rays showed the wrist wasn’t broken. She said she didn’t realize how fast she was going and lost control on the mile 8 downhill and hit her head 3 times when she fell. Fortunately, it was right at a turnaround with volunteers and a police officer present to help her, and her helmet did its job. She got some ugly road rash on her legs and shoulder but avoided any notable bruising. She later said that she'd done the whole ride in one gear since she didn't know how to change the gears on her sweet $1200 rental.

My aforementioned fall left me with three scrapes and a goose-egg of a bruise on my knee. After eating and about halfway through the movie, I took a long, hot bath and soaked my aching back and shoulder/pec, realizing only then that I must have twisted my upper body during the fall and sprained my freaking tit. How the hell does one even do that? I took a lot of Tylenol and a 2-hour nap, woke irritated to be hungry again so soon, ate, grabbed an ice pack to hug, and went back to sleep til about 6 p.m.

I had scheduled a massage for the next morning, and though I hated waking up for it, I was SO glad to have gone. I mentioned it to my massage therapist, and he tenderly worked on the muscle, remarking on the swelling and heat that the injury produced. It really hurt to let him at it, but it felt better to be a bit looser, and I knew it would aid my healing and comfort over the next few days. It’s difficult to take it easy with daily tasks for one’s dominant arm. I was still on the fence about whether I should see my doctor for the pulled muscle. It was a weird, new pain to me and I couldn’t tell how serious it was, but I also doubted the doctor could do anything for it that I couldn’t from home. I decided not to.

I found my race results online: I finished 207 out of 209  finishers, 59/60 women, had a miserably slow 9:11 swim, just barely hit my sub-60 bike goal with a 59:22, didn’t at all believe my 39:54 3.2-mi run, and hit my total 2-hour goal with a generous 1:54:26. I am very excited to have baseline numbers for future events and have already registered for an April 14 swim + run event and an April 19 sprint tri!

Overall, it was challenging but fun and I’m glad I did it.

Historic McKinney Kiwanis Triathlon Race Report: Run

The exciting thing about the 5k course was that the first mile started on my usual trail and literally ran down my street and past my house. I took advantage of the porta-potty at the construction site across the street from my house, knowing from experience that a short pit stop could only improve my end time. My roommate was in the garage and waved as I passed. I briefly considered walking inside for a nap.

I shouldn’t have needed to pee. I needed electrolytes. The aid station only had water. I thought about the weather and the distance and figured I’d survive, but it wasn’t pleasant.

My legs didn’t seem to suffer the feelings described by other athletes as jelly or heavy. I was just so tired! I incorporated a lot of short jog/walk intervals, because all I wanted to do was walk the whole thing. But I had a time goal to meet. I didn’t know my exact swim start time, but it looked like I had about 42 minutes to finish the run. I didn’t feel like I could make that pace. I felt like molasses, like a 16+ minute mile. But I wouldn’t know until the end, so I just kept on, pushing the walks as short as I could stand to.

Around 1.5 miles, I first saw two runners behind me. Then I trudged slowly up the one big hill and told the volunteers at the aid station at the top how very happy I was to see them. One runner passed me around mile 2 and I gave him a high five. The other passed in the last half mile. I almost always “sprint” the last stretch in a race, but I had nothing left to give beyond my current pace. I asked a volunteer to point out where exactly the finish line was and was heartened to see it.

I ran to the finish, saw that the clock read 02:28 as I approached, and realized I might have actually made my 2-hour goal. I was given a finisher’s medal, water, and snack. I waited to see the friend finish, hoping to cheer her on. And waited. And waited. I had seen her bike still on the rack but not her gear. After a half hour or so, I was beginning to worry about my own post-race refueling, checking my phone, and wondering how long I should wait. When I checked again, her bike was gone. I’d been wandering the small festival area and hadn’t found her and had no missed calls or messages, so I decided to pack up and ride home.

But I couldn’t ride straight home because that was the run course for the kids triathlon immediately following the adults. I resolved to go the long way around; it was only a mile. Ouch, it hurt to sit. Luckily, I found a road that cut through and saved me a hill. I warmed up some burritos and watched some of A Knight’s Tale.

Fed, I wondered about my friend and how I’d missed seeing her at the end.

Historic McKinney Kiwanis Triathlon Race Report: Bike

Cyclists were already returning to re-rack and head out for the run. It made me chuckle. I took my time at the transition to make sure I had everything I needed and walked my bike out. I’m still a bit awkward getting my second toe into the cage, but I managed and set off. I stopped less than a mile in because I was parched and my hydration pack bite valve wasn’t working. I’d used hydration packs for foot races before and tested the new bladder at home, but it was determined not to cooperate on race day. I had to pull off the valve entirely and sip straight from the tube. Whatever.
 
On the road again . . . The course began with a slight but not unpleasant incline for most of the first 2 miles with a lane closed entirely for cyclists in the first mile and police officers at each intersection to hold traffic and wave us through. The first turn carried me out of city traffic and onto empty country roads. The weather was PERFECT: the night’s low had been 42°F and the afternoon high climbed to 82°F. leaving a perfect morning breeze once the sun came up. There were several blind turns, but few houses and zero traffic on an early Sunday morning.
 
One hill at the end of mile 4 was a bit difficult, but I made sure to take a lot of speed into it and actually passed another cyclist on the up! Badass. I maintained that lead for almost 3 more miles until a long, pleasant decline over most of mile 8. I wasn’t used to carrying a lot of speed, but I did enjoy myself. Turning around and huffing back up mile 9 was less fun, but it was all downhill from there back to the high school.
 
I had no reference to gauge my level of exertion on the bike compared to running and swimming, but it was the easiest leg for me that day. I pushed myself to comfortably middling exertion, knowing I’d need to maintain it for an hour and not wanting to kill my legs for the run.
 
At the transition area, I switched to an 8-ounce handheld water bottle since I knew there would be aid stations at every mile. I had brought toe shoes and an extra shirt to give myself the option of changing, but for a mere 5k, I can tolerate sneakers, so I wore the same shoes as I had on the bike. I walked out to the course start, which was kind of weirdly across a section of grass instead of using the existing paved trail but I suppose minimized collisions for all the fast people who’d already finished.

Historic McKinney Kiwanis Triathlon Race Report: Swim

I stuck a toe in to find the water was nearly as warm as the 85° temp of the senior pool where I trained. I opted against warming up in the pool because it was crowded with swift swimmers doing just that, and swimming really wears me out. Shimmying my hips and shoulders and swinging my arms around would have to suffice.

We were instructed to line up by the pool in numerical order by our bib numbers, which were supposedly seeded by the estimated swim times we entered at registration but became quickly apparent were not, which was confirmed by a relay participant sitting nearby who told me the relay racers had been thrown in willy nilly with the rest of the mix. We instead waited on the bleachers for 200+ athletes to go ahead of us and jumped in line with the last dozen. The race website had said swimmers would be spaced out by about 10 seconds each. I counted 5 seconds between starters. Watching the swift swimmers in the water and the traffic jams when many tried to pass the swimmers ahead of them was chaotic, a bit scary, and intimidating. Boom! Did you see that? One guy just got punched in the head while trying to pass.

Diving was forbidden and I’d never practiced a jump start. It wouldn’t have mattered because my training pool is shallow and the race started in the deep end. I jumped in, held my nose, and began kicking, disappointed to see how deep I sunk and how long it took me to recover, reach the surface, give a weak kick off the wall, and get going. I tried to remind myself to slow down and go strong and steady. I struggled to align myself in the lane with the deep end strip dropping away and spent many strokes sliding against the ropes and hoping I wouldn’t kick anyone in the next lane or get hit with a penalty for it.

I paused briefly for a breath after each length, having never learned the flip turn, and checked to see if anyone needed to pass me. For three laps the space behind me was all clear. But suddenly at the end of the third lap, four guys were piled up behind me and I stopped for several seconds to let them all pass, preferring to lose time over the thought of otherwise being kicked or elbowed.

I struggled and swam several lengths on my back, trying to catch my breath. I don’t know why I feel so good in training laps and yet flounder at races. I didn’t count the lengths, only my strokes and breath: one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe. . . . This was probably the first time my goggles didn’t fog up. Eventually I reached the end of the 12th length and pulled myself up the ladder out of the pool, slowly walking where everyone before me had jogged out, even though I would like to have enjoyed the short stretch of barefoot running if I’d had the energy for it.

What I didn’t see was the photographer shooting me on the ladder, hunched over, dead-tired, without an ounce of pep or joy. I’m pretty disappointed at how remarkably terrible these race photographers were since I happened to care about my time and didn’t stop to take any pictures at this event. Oh well, no race pictures for me.

Historic McKinney Kiwanis Sprint Triathlon: Before

Historic refers to the part of McKinney near which the race was held. The Kiwanis Club is an organization that provides youth programs and community service. Sprint triathlons vary in distance but usually include a 5k run and 20k (12-mile) ride. I’ve seen these events’ swim distances vary from 275 to 500 meters, but Wikipedia lists 750 meters as standard sprint. Triathlons begin with the swim followed by bike and end with running.

My first outdoor and my first sprint triathlon was Sunday, March 29 at McKinney High School. I was really excited about this event because it was right by my house and it would be challenging but doable.

After the “evangelizing” incident, I had a bad morning at the pool with circle swimming when one of the women in my lane wouldn’t ever let me pass, so I had to stop every lap and wait for her to swim ahead, and then another woman crossed over and narrowly avoided bashing me head-on. I’m incredibly pissed off that a city as populous and rich as McKinney would have such shitty recreation facilities: 2 indoor lap lanes in the whole fucking city! The Senior Pool is also filthy and grosses me out.

So I hadn’t been swimming much this year.

We had weeks of freezing rain and ice and snow in February and twice-a-week rehearsals for The Vagina Monologues, so I hadn’t been running much either.

I’d been searching for a bicycle since last fall, but the cheapest entry-level road bike in any store was $620, the cheapest online was $500, and I couldn’t find anything secondhand in my size. Finally an acquaintance contacted me after having seen my statuses on Facebook and said he happened to have pretty much everything in his garage to build me a bike. He’s been working for a cycling shop for 15+ years and collecting parts, and he just happened to have a Moniqa-sized frame. So he offered to build me a bike from scratch.

It took some time, and I only got it a week and a half before the race. I took my first long ride around my neighborhood three days later and established a baseline of 5 miles in 30 minutes. I took my second long ride later that week and managed 9.23 miles around White Rock Lake in 50 minutes. It was just enough to get me comfortable with riding up and down small hills, changing gears, making tight turns, and navigating light traffic. And it was just enough to boost my confidence that I could, at the very least, finish the race, albeit slowly. I thought it reasonable to hope that the race day adrenaline could push me to complete the 12.5-mile bike course in an hour, based on my middling-but-comfortable cycling exertion so far.

My only brick workouts had been running the 1.75 miles out and back to and from the pool.

I was under-trained, but I could do each part.

I took advantage of the pre-race clinic offered to answer questions for first-timers. There I learned how to rack and re-rack my bike and that there are time penalties for doing it wrongly, where the transition area’s ins and outs were, where the mount/dismount line was, to stay left on the road to avoid blocking, how to navigate the pool, the drafting rules (in a word: don’t), how many other participants would be there (200-300), not to wear earphones at all, and that no one would be allowed to retrieve their things from the transition area after finishing the race until the last bicycle was in, among a dozen other pieces of necessary information.

I’ve been reading every article I can find for novice triathletes and devoured the book The Slow Fat Triathlete. But there was still so much info!

I always make a list for travel, camping, and races, and I always over-pack, preferring to have everything I could possibly want for every comfort or whim; and this event would be no exception. I put together an exhaustive list of the things I would need for race day, plus lip balm and deodorant to keep me comfortable. Seeing my pile of gear—including extra water, shoes, sunglasses, sweatband, towels, and a second shirt just in case I wanted something dry for the run—compared to the athletes near me with only a change of shoes and helmet made me smile in good-humored self-deprecation.

Lifetime Fitness Indoor Tri: THUMBS DOWN

I participated in my first triathlon this past Sunday. It was a one-hour, indoor event hosted by Lifetime Fitness. Participants swam 10 minutes, had a 10-minute transition, biked 30 minutes, 5-minute transition, and a 20-minute run. Volunteers recorded our distances, and we were given points and ranked against the other 37 participants of the day.

I swam 6.5 laps (13 lengths) in the 25m pool and learned that my usual pool is probably measured in yards, because this one felt really long. I biked a painful, paltry 6.6 miles (more about that later) and ran 1.74 miles, which I'm happiest with and was aiming for 1.75.

I am okay with my triathlon performance, but the event organization and equipment was terrible and I will never set foot in a Lifetime Fitness again. The company has been holding these events since 2009, according to its website's Results page.

I arrived an hour before my wave (40 min before the first wave), and the staff didn't know anything about it. Event check in wasn't ready til 25 minutes before start, and that was where I learned that I could get a locker key from the front desk, unlike the information given prior to the race.

Lap lanes were very narrow with two swimmers to a lane constantly bumping one another because my lane mate did breast stroke and I wanted to do a few back strokes. I spent the whole time palming the wall and still bumping the other swimmer and weirdly struggled through the water with lots of resistance.

We were given a little time to adjust the bikes, but they only had clip-in pedals. A few had toe cages, but the straps were broken on the TWO bikes I tried. I didn't know to bring sneakers, so I lost my first two minutes to adjusting the damn straps and spent the whole half hour in pain from my toe shoes and the overall awful fit of the bike for my whole body. Thus, my second-to-last bike mileage.

The treadmills worked. I enjoyed the run. I availed myself of the facilities' steam sauna and showers before leaving.

Then I went directly to a friend's house to spend the next four hours helping them move and took a hot bath after that and a pain pill to sleep. I must have done something right, because I was in awe of my mobility and minimal soreness the next day, knowing my degree of exertion. Maybe I'll plan movement following future races and avail myself of pain pills more freely. Probably I'll still only want to eat and sleep.