Delavan Lake Tri Race Report

Author's Note: This started out as a list of what I've accomplished in my time as an MIA blogger. CATCH: #1 on the list turned into over 800 words. I decided that some stories just need to be told. So here you have it - my first tri of the 2007 season. Read it and weep. (I did.)

When: June 2nd
Where: Delavan, WI
What: Oly distance
Why: Pfft!

Morning nearly dawned. I was up at 3:45 AM, positively itching to race. I was on the road by 4:15.

Only to hit a deer. Or, more accurately, the deer hit me. I had stopped for it, but after loping across the highway in front of me, it decided that the grass was greener on the previous side, turned around, and ran into the driver's side of my car. Scared the living bejeezus out of me. On shaky legs, I got out of the car, determined that the car was still drivable, determined that I was still drive-able, and continued on. I had a race to do.

Packet pickup and prep were uneventful, and I was race-ready by 7AM. But the race wasn't ready for me. Or the other 200 athletes on the beach. So we stood there. Talking, pushing our toes around in the sand, craning our necks to see if the race director was off his phone yet and ready to start the race... at 7:27, we finally started.

The swim felt beautiful. No kicks, no thumps, no hyperventilating. I felt smooth, calm, and very connected. I came out of the water in 21 minutes and charged to my bike. This was Serra's first race of the year, and "excited" does not touch how I felt about trying out my new steed.

He was fast.

Every time I looked down at the Cateye we were over 20 MPH. I was flying. It felt great, sublime, superb -and lots of other adjectives - to be racing at last. I passed a lot of people, "good jobbing" my way through the masses. Then, the short course and the long course split off and the crowds thinned. At about mile 9 I saw another soul and passed him, taking the lead on open country roads. That's where it got interesting. I kept going straight down that road, watching for the teeny race signs that indicated turns.

I kept going straight down that road, watching for the teeny signs that indicated turns.
I saw open fields, blacktop, cows, people working in their yards.

I kept going straight down that road, watching for the teeny signs that indicated turns.
I rode through a town of about 300 souls. I looked behind me at the guy I had passed earlier. He was still following me. I slowed down and let him catch up to me. "Do you think we're still on course?" I asked him. "I haven't seen any signs," said he. So...

I kept going straight down that road, watching for the teeny signs that indicated turns.
I crossed the Illinois state line.
EEEEEEERK. Clue. I am off course.
Sh!t, Sh!t, Sh!t! Serra and I had been bookin', truckin', takin' no prisoners.
I turned around to see if Mr.-No-Signs-in-Sight was still behind me. NOPE. I'll never know when he bailed, but bail he did.

So Serra and I decided to go another mile to ensure that we did 25 miles total - on an out-and-back course - and turned around. Easy-peezy, right?

NOPE.

• I tried following those teeny signs in reverse, and that turned out -- hopelessly. Soon, I no longer had any clue if I was coming or going (literally). And were those signs for the sprint or the oly?? I re-gave up and made it my goal to get back to the lake.
• I stopped and asked for directions 3 times.
• I slowed down and smelled the roses, ate all of my Clif and Gu, and laughed at myself. (Once I was done cursing.)
• I made it back to the turn for the lake and saw the first volunteer that I'd seen in over 30 minutes. I came from the wrong direction and shouted so to her. She just nodded her head sympathetically and waved me in.
• I had done 30.6 miles on a 25-mile course. And averaged 19.1 MPH. (No comment. About what "coulda been" or otherwise!)
• I landed in the transition area and poured out my story of woe to my sag wagon friend. Only to hear other athletes singing my song: "I did 27 flippin' miles!" The volunteers, looking a little rueful and sheepish but still smiling -still volunteering - said that many bikers had gone off course.
• Sag wagon friend commented, "Hey. I just counted. There were 19 turns in that 25 mile course."
• Oh.
  

I took a deep breath and prepared to run the six 1-mile loops required to put a period at the end of this race. Then, I spied my timing chip laying in the grass next to my wetsuit. My timing chip that should have been on my ankle for the last hour and 35 minutes. That was it.

I picked up the chip, considering it, a crystalline idea plonking me over the head - some things are not meant to be. I turned the chip in at the finish line, thanked the volunteers (who offered me a case of water for my efforts), and went for a run with my friend by beautiful Lake Geneva.

So there you have it. The first installment of "What I've Accomplished Since Being an MIA Blogger." It ain't pretty, but it's true. My car no longer has the dent, I'm sure the deer has long since moved on to greener pastures, and I? Yes. Greener pastures and long days on a blue bike. More to come...

Ninety Degrees

You sit in a 90° parking lot
sweating bullets
in a deer-crushed car
that allows only inches
of air
to blow over you
to cool your indecision

It is a 90° turn you are considering
an apartment
at a 30-mile distance
from him
from her
- the person that you were.

Considering
an open door
to ... What?
Freedom?
New vistas?
Self-actualization?
Maybe.

Times of loneliness?
Moments of regret, sadness?
Assuredly.
___________

And here I am.
In the new place
in a room of my own.
I did it.

I am here.
In the middle of all this.
I still have my self
- with a 90° difference -
in a spot of
cool light
and sweet spaces.

In a spot with
rooooom
to explore
to be
to write

I am here.
I am home.

Hatched

It is 56 in the valley
with a fog thick, milky
and so smooth you
could cut it with a butter knife

Every blade of grass
wears a mantel of moisture
to wet a bird's beak

Piper and I climb
toward the sun
just making its debut
stretching its rays
reaching for the fog
ready to burn it off
to lift the valley into light

With warmth on my face
and wet on my feet
I am thinking.

I realize with a start
that for once
it's not
the agonizing haze of
analysis
doubt
of warped concentration on
my Situation.

I am ready
to see the world
to think of my students
to pull two girls

one a misfit
one a depressive
- both brilliant

out of themselves and
into a book club
into the warmth
and companionship
that kindred spirits can supply.
I am ready to save them
- or at least give it a try.

Huh.
Irony strikes.
They have saved me
Their obvious need
has compelled me...
has burned off my fog.

I have some reciprocating to do.

The Kindness of Strangers

The kind
of kindness
that you don't expect
from people who
"owe" you nothing

A tattoo-clad man
and his tween son
watching over me
as I swam through
Jet ski-infested waters today

The bloggers who read
who listen
who comment
as I swim through
tumultuous waters
of a different sort

Sometimes the kind
of kindness
you don't expect
is the most reassuring of all -
People are good.

Maya Angelou Poem

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
enough money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own even if she never wants
to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants
to see her in an hour...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a youth she's content to leave behind....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to
retelling it in her old age....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ......
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black
lace bra...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who
lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone
else in her family...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a
recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
a feeling of control over her destiny...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to fall in love without losing herself...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
HOW TO QUIT A JOB,
BREAK UP WITH A LOVER,
AND CONFRONT A FRIEND WITHOUT RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP...


EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that her childhood may not have been perfect...but its over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
whom she can trust,
whom she can't,
and why she shouldn't
take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to go...
be it to her best friend's kitchen table...
or a charming inn in the woods...
when her soul needs soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a month...and a year...

AM RUNNER

I was in
68 degree heat
68 percent humidity
at 6:00 in the morning
I was at
141 bpm
for 31:58.
I was.

I saw
the exodus
of the town's gray hairs
Vegas-bound
on a Lamer's bus
From cashed-out parking lot
to coin-craving slots
all
in air-conditioned comfort.

I ran to the top of the world
on a gravel path fanned by grasses
Funneling me into nature's beauty
a lover in the morning
Alive and alert

I descended
and saw
Panchito Sanchez
on his porch
gave him a wave
he nodded back
Biding his time
until the work bell clang

I was in Saturday's race
finding my core
finding my strength
resolving
to go fast
to be true
every second
to wheeze
to hurt
to break through
to emerge
tougher
elated
smiling

I went for a run this morning
I was in the moment
And beyond
I never left city limits
Yet
I went everywhere this morning.

Meet Serra

Silent Saturdays
slide by in his saddle
The boy named Serra
who
just like Johnny Cash's Sue
will fight anyone who
dares oppose his name.
That's just what I want
- A fighter.

Blogosphere, meet Serra.
A custom-built Waterford bike
frame weight 3 lbs, 4 oz.
Total build 18.5 pounds.
Hand-built wheels 1401 grams
Acceleration 0 to 20 in seconds.
Middle name?
Speedy-quick.

Long Tall Texan

I stand on the gunwale,
packing my round
Wisconsin self
into last year's wetsuit.

Out of the radio
pops Lyle Lovett
crooning Long Tall Texan.

Huh.

Dripping sweat
and nervous to my toes,
I take the plunge.

I am rewarded
with 59 degree water
in my suit
up my nose.

My wetsuit remembers
and bobs me to the surface
I give the boat one last look
and turn my face into the water
ready to meet it on its terms.

They are chilly terms.
Chilly to my cheeks
Chilly to my hands.

Invigorating
Exhilarating
chilly terms.

I first train myself to use my breath
Happy exhalations
bubble and gurgle
warming my face

For my hands there is only
Swim Faster
But that's short and choppy
a Wisconsinite in the water

I need to be Texan.
I stretch and reach
adding inches to my frame
I catch it and I pull it
Cold water getting shoveled.

Now the warmth is there
generated from within
My face is shining
my spirit on fire

I close my eyes
swimming blind
to better hear the bubbles
to better feel the sun
to better stretch and reach.

It took me 40 minutes
but I emerged from that water
a Long Tall Texan.

A Room of One’s Own

The tomatoes
were growing too close
Blocking each other's light,
Choking each other's roots.
Their true leaves had budded
Fleshy and full
A sign of readiness,
A sign of need.

I heard them

And gave them
Rooms of their own.

Sometimes a woman
Needs a room of her own
To dig in new roots
To breathe her own oxygen
Uncolored by yours
To embrace the full sunlight
Undappled and alone.

When you see a woman
with true leaves
Give her a room of her own.

Heavy Equipment

OK, I have to admit to feeling more than a little funny writing a post about GEAR for a BIKE. But I promised Lisa and took the pictures, so here goes...

Everything you need in order to be a utilitarian biker goddess...

Quick Mtx Track trunk bag that slides into grooves on the QR Beam Rack Mtx. The rack supports 20 pounds and attaches to my seat stem with a quick-release adjustment thingy. (As opposed to the old bike racks with supports that reached down to attach to my rear hub.)

(Do I sound remotely intelligent here??)

Trunk bag with side pannier unzipped. Ooh, spacious...

The whole kit 'n' caboodle with the trunk bag open to show room for swimsuits, shoes, goggles, groceries... the possibilities are really endless, Ladies and Gents.

Hope this helps you out, Lisa! (And any others.) I'm off to clear my head with a good poem or two.

Thoughts on Speed

(This first number sung to the tune of "PFFT You Were Gone")

Speed, oh speed, where are you tonight?
Why did you leave me here all alone?

I've run the world over
Thought you were my true love
But you've met another... met another...met another (record skipping)
And PFFT
You were gone.

_________________________________________________

(Next: An Interrogation)

Speed, where have you gone to?
I dunno.

When will you be back?
Couldn't tell ya.

I want you... Immeasurably - to the tips of my toes.
Pfft, come off it!
I've left you with joy,
camaraderie,
and drive.
Now really,
shouldn't that be enough for you?

_________________________________________________

(Last: An Update)


Tomatoes 1

Triteacher 0

Pine Line Marathon Relay

"If it is to be, it is up to me."

This quote greeted me five minutes into my leg of the Pine Line Marathon this morning. There were several other quotes posted along the course, but this one stuck with me because of my reaction to it. I smiled and thought, "It already was." All else - e.g. meeting my goal time - would be icing on the cake.

What could put such a crazy thought in my head?

• Meeting Rural Girl before the race. She is the real deal - funny, enthusiastic, down-to-earth - just as I knew she would be.
• Messing around with our team costume (filmy scarves) last night and hearing my pink-scarf-clad father proclaim that, had he the audacity, he would always wear just such a cravat.
• Driving around to the checkpoints with my niece and catching up on her life as an 18 year-old. - Not to mention scheming all the devious ways in which we could catch up to the other relay teams.
• Taking pictures of my brother who sprinted the first 2 miles of his leg with the big-hearted spirit that personifies him.
• Disobeying Strong Sister's strict instructions to just get my niece to the exchange point. Her sole response to our cheering was a stern, "See you in a few minutes." (She had five miles to go yet! More bonding with my niece over that one.)
• Racing - at last. The trail and weather were divine, my endorphins were pelting my legs and splitting my face into the goofiest-ass grin you ever did see...

And these will have to be IT for now. No icing on my cake today. My time was much slower than I'd hoped for. I did the 10.1 miles in 1:21 - far from the smokin' 1:11 I'd hoped for. One minute per mile off, in fact. (Eeks!)

In retrospect, I see that it was an unrealistic goal given my current level of fitness and my running times so far this season. I'm just not as fast as I was when I ran 7:09s in 2003. (The times upon which I based this goal.) So for me, today was a checkpoint, a dipstick into the well of this growing season. And happy as I was to just be out there with such good people today, I learned something too...

If it is to be, it is up to me.

I, my friends, have some work to do.

I Feel Pretty

I feel pretty, oh so pretty...

"Ms. Triteacher, that's a pretty dress."
"You look nice today, Ms. T."
"We're not used to seeing you in purple."
(Actually it's lavender, but I'm not about to point that out.)

I'm all dudded up for the kids' concert tonight, and they noticed.
It feels oh-so-pretty to be me today. :)

Ladybug Soul

I swallowed her tonight
She went down whole
Now I'm ladybug
to the core of my soul

My helmet protected my hair
My glasses fought for my eyes
My hairs hid my nose in a weave
But my jaw gaped wide

I came on at seventeen
She had to be doing twenty
The tailwind gave her a boost
She found a new place to roost

Then at home
I spied my tulips
freshly-opened today
Instead of flowers
I saw a tomb
and knew there was only one way.

My two lips I did part
and relinquished her to her grave.
She now has a happy heart
in that sunlit yellow place.





As for me
I'll remember her.
For this clinging
bitter taste.

The Growing Season

I spent an afternoon and a morning with a fork in my hands, mired in compost and garden soil. Right now I have dirty fingernails and aching muscles. But in a few weeks time we'll have spinach and lettuce. In a few months we'll have broccoli and tomatoes. At this point, it's hard to believe.

Bet you can't see where this post is going.

I've spent afternoons and mornings on the bike and in the pool. My weeks have seen progressively longer runs. Right now I have sore muscles and magnitude 8 doubts. In a week's time, I'll have the results of my first running race. In a few months, my Tri Nationals fate will be written history.

In my garden and to the toes of my running socks, I have the excitement of a season getting underway. It is the growing season, and I - like the spinach and tomatoes - will grow.

The Sleeper

She slips in in the morning
a bright smiling face presented to the world.
The smiles and nods continue,
punctuation in all the right places
throughout class.

Finally she slips her test into my basket
and slides back to her seat.
I wonder if it will reveal
the 60% of last time.

She's sliding along.
The smile is vacant,
the nods for the trees.

Well, wake up, Little Sleeper,
Your teacher is calling your name.

The Bike

The bike is just different for me.
Utilitarian.
I ride it to get me to school,
to get me to the trailhead so I can run,
or to the pool so I can swim.

I need to expand my horizons
to go beyond the utilitarian
to go beyond accomplishing training.
I need to make the bike about biking.

How the hell am I gonna do that?

My trainer lays dusty in my closet -
still in its plastic.
I, the one with the vocabulary,
mentally block on words like cadence and wattage,
gears, parts vs. components, derailleurs
= Derailed.

But hey, I got bottle cages and seats downpat!
Er - or was that saddles?

How do you retrain a brain,
create a proclivity?
Woefully, willfully ignorant.
Is there hope for me yet?

Yes. I will find a way.

I Hurt, But I'm Getting Faster

Yes, my quads hurt. I've taken a page out of Lisa's book and am tackling this little nemesis of mine called...

THE BIKE.

It gets the least play in this blog because it is my least favorite. Oh sure, I enjoy it and all, but it ain't swimming - and it cannot touch running.

But, Lisa's honest appraisal and reporting of her biking - as well as her steadfast efforts to improve - have inspired me. So, bottoms up:

Here's where I've been - 14.9 MPH
Where I am - 16.5-17.5 MPH
Where I'm going - 19.5 MPH
(All done on my usual 19 mile route.)

AND

How I'll get there:
In spin class, we used to count our RPMs. We were always aiming for around 90. I have started doing this now on my roadbike. With an evil Triteacher Twist.

I count my revolutions (one leg) for 10 seconds out of every minute. If I don't make the requisite, magical 15 (Yep, 15 x 6 = 90 RPM), I have to count again in that same minute. (The Twist.) I try to maintain that 90 RPM for 5 minutes straight. Repeat 4 times per ride.

Though I can't say I've isolated this as THE variable, I attribute my increased speed to this drill. Hey, if it makes you hurt, it has to make you faster, right? ;)

_________________________________________________________________

Also on my mind... Virginia Tech. See these blogs for more thoughts:

Anne
Marty

Back Away from Your Screen

A-a-choo-kablooey!

Don't say I didn't warn you.

And I always thought they were exaggerating when they said:

watery eyes
itchy, runny nose
stuffed up head
sneezing.

Gods Behaving Beastly

Shiva and Shakti
took my legs for a run
this morning.

Ten miles on a crushed gravel path
in 60 degree sunshine -
you would think they'd be kind,
kick back and enjoy the weather.

But nooooo....
not those two.

They frolicked with each other
as they rampaged through my body,
vying for my misery.
I swear I heard them say,
"Screw 'What Would Jesus Do.'"

They tightened up my quads
and pinched my piriformis.
They stuck Gatorade bile
in the back of my throat
and pushed my legs to pulp
on a Long Distance Slow.

But I fought back
caving only to the secret thought
of a negative split.

As I sit here now
with an ice pack under each cheek,
my piriformis is not purring.
But I am.

My watch has told me the score:
Miles 1-5: 45.04
Miles 6-10: 43.38

I have earned my smile.
I went for a run today
and negative splitted.

Oh, and Shiva & Shakti?
They're busy rolling out my quads.