World Championships destination Budapest

As I sit here on my 13 hours of flights heading home, I think about what was, what could have been & what will come. My adventure started well before September 2010, even before the start of this year. It’s been a hell of a year and to not recognize my journey without the beginning would be to read the last chapter first and think you know how it ends. Hell, I don’t even know where it ends.

I came to Budapest to race for Team USA, not to win, but to enjoy the final stretch running across the famous Chain Bridge. I wasn’t going to win, but I did have expectations to make the top 15. Last year I was 18th, this year I was better trained, better schooled, better disciplined, and better prepared. Having podiumed in all by 2 races this year (and still close), I was racing better than ever before. I learned new tricks to shave off precious seconds and was even schlepping my disk halfway across the world to really make it count. I had new swim coaching which was working. I had new speedy Zipp wheels whisking me about. I had gotten through a very trying period of physical exhaustion to feel a new kind of running. I had overcome a wrecked ankle, severe plantar fasciitis (muscle was so screwed I couldn’t curl my toes for 3 months), and my chronic sinus allergies (or whatever nightmare you want to call it) which made swimming & running a coughing mess.

But when I landed in Budapest, I threw on the running shoes and aimed for the Chain Bridge. I had spring and bounce, and could feel “it”. “It” is when your body is moving and at complete peace with what your mind is telling it to do. Go faster, ok. Turn over quicker, ok. Lengthen your stride, ok. It’s when your body says “let’s go, is that all you want?” All the typical aches and pains were still there. My lower back always a mess, my sinus on overdrive, my hamstring tweaky, but I had power. Coach Sergio Borges had been very positive about seeing me through the rough spots, and now I finally felt fit.

The days leading up to the race started posing some difficulties. First, there was the language. Hungarian is unlike anything we have heard in the states and from what I can understand, is not of Latin origins. If it is… well, it’s quite a few cousins down the road. They’ve got hyphens, dots, accents, hats & v’s over some of their letters. Sometimes all in one word. Heck, we even found a word with “jjj” in the middle. Really?? One J wasn’t enough, so how about 3??!? Our race course was situated in a man-made bay area off the Danube south of town center. Langyomanyosi bay. (No chance on swimming in the Danube, at 6 knots the current is a wee bit strong.) Try saying that to a taxi driver. We found that pointing to a map was the easiest means of communication. Hubby Dave is good with languages and the first thing he wanted to learn was “cheers” (and rightfully so since the first thing he wanted was Hungarian beer.) Sounds easy enough. Then he asked someone to write it down (because he hadn’t a clue what they were saying. So, here’s to you beer fans, Egészségedre!

After we learned our way around the town, we attempted a ride. Attempting a “workout” was nearly impossible. Picture the middle of Paris with more cobbles and bike paths on the sidewalks. The Hungarians are so incredibly nice, they will stop driving to politely advise you in Hungarian that you should be riding on the sidewalk, not the road as it’s too dangerous in the small, busy streets for silly bikers. (The pointing and gesturing lead the translating). They’re so bike friendly they have a designated bike path stretching a massive portion of the Danube. Now, there are some challenges on the bike path if you’re riding on a road bike, or better yet, a TT bike with fancy-smancy zipp wheels, but by golly, there’s a path and if I wanted to ride to Vienna, I could. In an attempt to get some kind of bike workout in during the week prior, hubby Dave & I decided to head outside of the city on said bike path to ride roads less traveled (by cars). Five & a half hours later we managed to get a measly 49 miles in. My intent was not to go out for a long ride, you just had to ride that far to get above 10mph!

The biggest challenge came in the form of weather. Last year’s reviews of temperatures & weather indicated a hot, semi-dry time of the year. Temps this past July were up to 40 degrees Celsius (aka, really hot). September rolled in and brought nothing but rain, wind & cold. In the 14 days we spent in the area, we got 2 days of sun. Not warm, but at least not raining. I packed all kinds of the wrong stuff. I wore my shorts once. I barely wore a T-shirt outdoors. Me and my Patagonia down sweater were inseparable. I didn’t bring a rain coat. I didn’t bring an umbrella. The only warm clothes I had were my jeans, my Team USA warm ups (although thin), and my down jacket. Thank goodness for trash bags! Clip a little hole out of the top, and two more holes for your arms, and viola, a rain-ish jacket-ish.

The morning of the race started somewhere about 3AM after deciding sleep was not going to happen and I could recite the line-up of songs from the club downstairs. No Doubt, Red Hot Chili Peppers, all good stuff, unless of course you’re trying to sleep. Gerry Foreman, fellow triathlete from San Diego (at 74!!) and flat mate was up too. The rain had been more on than off for the last 4 days and my spare running shoes were still wet from dropping the bikes off in transition the day before. The massive length of transition was on a grassy bank above the river. Already under 1-2” of water. ITU had indicated that disk wheels were not recommended in the conditions, so my precious disk would not even come out of its bag this trip. I had been in touch with Coach Sergio for advice on rainy conditions & logistics. Warming up? Shoes on the bike or off? Possible muddy conditions, and very very wet roads. “Stay warm” were his words of hope. I put on all my arm clothes and made sure me and my trash bag got a good 15-20 minute warm up run in the rain. My feet were beyond soaking and the trash bag, at that point (6AM), was maybe keeping me a bit warmer, but certainly I was already soaked through every layer of clothing I had on. I decided it was too risky to keep the shoes on the bike with the wet roads, and the grass didn’t seem too muddy so clipping in wasn’t going to be too big of an issue. I’d leave my shoes on the bike coming into T2, but alas, my well practiced flying dismounts were going to have to wait. It was too risky if brakes were questionable.

I had no idea what to expect with the swim. A festering sinus infection (massive thanks to Doc Stacy who called in an emergency short course of antibiotics) hit hard the morning I was flying out a week before the race. I had tried to outwit the impending infection but woke up to find I had most certainly failed. Team USA doc is fellow San Diegan Dr John Martinez, who also happened to be working with me on my sinus troubles for the nearly 2 years prior. Per docs orders, no warm up swims in the bay for me. Too many allergy issues already from those that had taken a dip in the bay. So race morning, it was a quick (~ 20 seconds) jump in the water and we were off. No warm up had been allowed. And it was cold. Not unbearably, but probably 57-58 degrees. I failed to find feet to draft from and had a hunch I was the draftor. The swim isn’t my strength and it never will be. I accept this. The bike however is my strength and I had no doubt that whomever was on my feet would not be there for long.
Transition was a continuous pool of water over a grassy field. I struggled to close my fingers and strip myself of my wetsuit, but it felt good to get my feet in bike shoes (love the toe warmers), even wet shoes. The bike was interesting. With 8 corners & 2 U-turns, there wasn’t much time to get up to speed before carefully negotiating a turn on wet roads with standing water. A section of unpaved road had been finished the night before so there wasn’t a chance to pre-ride the course. I passed a good number of girls but was not able to easily get into a rhythm. I have to say that the Mexican men don’t like getting chicked J. And as lovely as the Brits are….. PASS ON THE LEFT!!!!

All my new tricks were for not. No shoes on the bike, no flying dismounts, no speedy transitions. The goal became staying upright. I wasn’t concerned about me, concern came from not knowing if the rider behind you understood the dynamics of riding with wet brakes. Having successfully survived the bike, I joyously ran into T2 which was nearly entirely under water. After successfully negotiating 95% of transition, I somehow managed to practice baseball and found myself sliding on my ass to my bike rack. A few expletives and a gasp from someone (ref in transition?), I was in my soaking running flats and stomping puddles out of transition. Doc John brought the humor as I passed, “I got SUNSCREEN!” Haa… I would have loved to see the sun. The adrenaline was racing and the legs were turning. I tried to lengthen my stride and get into a power rhythm. My legs wouldn’t respond. Come on!! Move it girly! I knew I could go faster, my legs weren’t heavy, they just wouldn’t stride out. I noticed my hamstring, or shall I say, the knife in my ass. I was passed by an Aussie & SNG (Singapore??) racer with about 2K to go. I hooked on and kept pace. I had a good kick, so as long as I stayed close, I could finish it. Coming up to the Chain Bridge, my dream of this race, I gritted the teeth and passed the SNG racer and started closing the gap to the Aussie. The adrenaline was kicking in again and commanded my legs to go farther. But they wouldn’t listen. I finished in 26th. A far cry from the top 15 I was capable of doing. I left dejected and horrified when I noticed my run time was ~2 minutes off what it should have been. What the hell happened? The brain doesn’t work so well when racing. When the adrenaline fog released, I found myself unable to walk straight. My left hamstring was a mess and felt like it had a dagger through it. Lengthen the stride at the run? Hell, I couldn’t straighten my leg to lengthen my walk. Somehow that slip in T2 did more than I realized at the time. A few days after the race I watched the finish video and clear as day I was compensating by throwing my left leg out to avoid using my hamstring. When racing my brain had not wrapped around the idea of injury, just “stupid body, GO FASTER!!”.

The trek back to transition was slow, painful, cold & wet. Another downpour. I didn’t even bother to change out of my cold, soaked uniform. I put more wet clothes on top, and dragged 50 lbs of soaking transition crap back up river. Gerry walked with me back to the flat. A quiet, somber, gimpy trek. My season was now prematurely ended, and I was tired, soaking wet, very cold, hungry and upset. “Your limping” he said. All I could choke out was “I know.”

The race was the most miserable racing experience I had to date. I had realistic expectations and lived up to none of them. And I had a dagger in my ass to boot. I decided before I made any rash decisions I should probably shower, eat & sleep. In that order ASAP. Oh, and put a load of laundry in as I didn’t have a single piece of warm clothing that wasn’t dripping. I don’t remember much of the rest of the day.

The next day I felt better. Well, at least mentally. I had indeed pulled my hamstring and opted to taxi to the race finish to watch Sunday’s races as walking was not pleasant. The sun was out and the Sunday racers had it good. Dry roads and sun. Nobody asked for more. After watching fellow training buddy Marisa finish mere 2 seconds off 10th place and shooting shots of other Team USA racers, Dave & I headed out for a little R&R.

We drove to the southern wine region of Czech and stayed in a charming village of Mikulov and enjoyed the first warm afternoon of sun. Turns out, the CZ are serious about their beer… and Burcak (young wine). We arrive for the annual wine festival and begin our quest for the top Czech beers. The next day we ride through foggy vineyard and I am overcome with an amazing sense of peace. Yesterday my bikes shoes were soaking wet (and stinky I might add!) and I had no desire to jump on an go for a spin. After a good breakfast and a morning of blow-drying bike shoes, the feeling of riding through foggy grape vines, lakes & villages in complete quiet helped bring me back from the dead. Walking hurt. Running wasn’t possible, but I could ride ok.

We continued on to Prague where the first words out of my mouth were “oh my god!” It really is Robin Hood meets Lord of the Rings meets It’s a Small World. We stayed the first night in an affordable pension just outside of the Castle area. If you ever go to Prague, don’t stay here! The mosquito infestation was so bad both Dave & I slept with the blankets over our heads. We were too old to be playing Fort. We had planned a countryside ride the next day but instead opted to find new sleeping arrangements. Turns out, you can stay in a 4 star hotel for virtually the same cost as that stupid pension. We ate, drank, wandered and used our newly acquired umbrellas. Finally, the day before we were to leave Prague, a break in the rain. Since we couldn’t get the 2 rides we were hoping to do, we drove to Krivoklat Castle, parked the car & road a circle route to Karlstejn Castle. Just over 50 miles of complete CZ bliss. Forests, country farms, little villages, hills, river valleys & two very magnificent castles. A truly epic ride worth the journey and preceding challenges.

Now, it’s off to home to recover, heal a hamstring and whatever else has been slightly abused this season. We’ll see what next season brings. I started the year out with 6 weeks of injury, and it’s only fitting I end it with another 6 weeks of injury recovery. At least I’m well rounded J What happens next year we will see. I’m just so incredibly thankful for all the support I have received and words of encouragement that helped me get through a very rough year & final race.

Huge thanks to for your support to Worlds:

Sergio Borges X Training
Velo Bella
Tri Club San Diego
Gino Cinco & Function Smart Wellness
Sable Water Optics
Zealios Sunscreen by Personal Best Products

Budapest Days 1-3

Wow, there's nothing like being in a country where you have no clue how to say anything. Dave & I arrived on Saturday afternoon, and by the time we tried to hit the market for basics on Day 3... we discovered we came home with sour cream, not yoghurt, fizzy water, not still and still have no idea how to say "thank you."

Day 1: the flight landing into Budapest was inspiring. You fly right over the city and I could see the race course below me. I imagined myself swimming in the bay, biking and then, took a deep breath when I saw the chain bridge from the air - the finish across the bridge is going to be epic. As soon as I got to our rented flat, I jumped into my running shoes and took off. I had to run the chain bridge immediately. My legs felt great. Amazing considering I've been tweaked, twisted & crammed into a middle seat for the past umpteen hours.

Day 2: It's Sunday, so no bike shops are open to buy CO2, and I wasn't smart enough to bring a hand pump... do I risk rolling out for a light ride to spin the legs with no way fixing a flat? So, instead of an AM ride, we decided to visit the thermal baths at Gellert. Amazing old pools & natural thermal spas, uber-relaxing. PM-we decide to risk the flat and go out for an easy hour spin.... er, sort of. No spinning, just dodging walkers, other transport bikers, cars & cobbles. One thing to note... it's freaking COLD! Is this summer??

Day 3: Attempt to find market to buy breakfast foods: milk, muesli, yoghurt & water. Came home with milk, sour cream, muesli & sparkling water. Did you know if you mix drink mix with slightly fizzy water... it foams??!? Find flat water & hit the bikes for a long ride. My compromise with Dave was to do a long ride and get in some rural riding. His Ironman training & my Sprint training aren't exactly similar. So today, we go out and see Hungarian countryside. Route: Our flat downtown Budapest across the Elizabeth bridge, north along the Danube to a town called Vac. Euro-bike route 6 meant there were designated bike paths nearly the entire way according to our map. Sounded great until the path turned into a gravel mess and led right into a swamp. A quick pic & we were covered in mosquitos. We jettisoned out of there and hit the roads until we reconnected with the path. The rural road riding was fantastic. The bike paths are for recreational use only... no speeds above 12 or 14 mph were possible due to mud, holes, debris, etc. We finally made it to the ferry crossing and had a pleasant lunch in Vac. We had already been out for 3 hours and the dark clouds were setting in. We hit the main road (instead of a path) and high tailed it as far as we could at 20-25mhp. We rode up to the rain, through it & out the other side of the storm (10 miles of wet riding) opting to stay away from cars and stay on the bike paths & sidewalks. My poor bike, I don' t mean to be abusing you riding up and down curbs, over cobbles and across ditches. Once we hit the Budapest city limits we were out of the rain and back on the sidewalks. City-tour-de-Budapest was completed and I can say that riding sidewalks is a great way to slowly discover the entire city. It only took 5.5 hrs! I'm glad we got the long ride in today. Rain is expected all week so who knows what workouts I can do in the next few days. TBD

Pre-Worlds Prep

Wow….. the difference a few weeks brings. A month ago I was in a state of panic, depression, worry, fear, the list goes on. I couldn’t run to save my life. Really, if aliens were landing, I would have keeled over and died of heart failure trying to run a sub- 9 minute mile. I don’t yet have an explanation for why my running when from reasonable to garbage for about 6 weeks. Perhaps my body was fighting a cold, fatigue, stress, or a combo but it was beginning to scare me. Any intensity or incline would jack my heart rate up to uncomfortable, not-normal levels and it would feel like my legs were bricks and someone pulled the plug, draining the energy out of my body. It is at this time I was thankful to have a good coach, Sergio Borges. “Keep going, don’t worry about the intensity, just do the workout at whatever pace feels comfortable. The speed will come back” he’d tell me… day, after day, after day. I worked on my nutrition, began to take my multies again, broke out the fish oil, tried to get a nap in on weekends, get to bed earlier and drink more water.

I raced the Solana Beach Triathlon July 25th with complete trepidation. Would I be able to run? Being that I only had 2 more training races before Worlds, I wanted to be sure to make the most of my time racing and decided that since I screwed up my transitions in Iowa, I would concentrate on them here. I also decided to make some changes to my race routine. I changed my breakfast from yoghurt, honey & granola to a Nut Natural Powerbar in an attempt to reduce the puke fest. Sounds gross, but the sprint distance is so intense you’re on the limit for an entire race, which is a fine line when it comes to food. Maybe I just didn’t need as much. And I changed little tiny details which can be a huge time saver, like racing without sunglasses (which are a pain when you need to put a Giro aero helmet on in a hurry) and attempt a flying dismount (taught by fellow bella DeeAnn). Sounds kind of pathetic I’ve need had the balls to try it racing before. Oh well, always a first!

Stacy Dietrich was also racing, but unlike me, she was running really well. So, just as expected, halfway into the run she passed me. The question was, would I get ditched, or could I at least hang? Good news, I hung and the plug didn’t give out. I finished a mere 9 seconds behind Stacy. She deserved the 2nd place finish, only 8 months after her first child. I was delighted with 3rd.
Then it happened. A week later during a Tuesday morning workout, I began to run. Well. My training mates turned to me and asked, “and what’s up with you??!?” I don’t know, but it’s about time! I wasn’t just off before, I was minutes off. Now I was on and each breath felt like it put energy in my legs. So here’s my advice, when you feel like ass, trust your coach…

Then came today, the Camp Pendleton Triathlon, and no taper per coach. I love it when marines run events. The Hardcore race series is awesome. TC, race director extraordinaire, puts on races that rock. If you ever get the chance to race at Camp Pendleton.. it’s a must do. You get to race in areas you otherwise wouldn’t be able to get near and see machinery that only exists in movies. The marines park everyone with such order that each car is exactly 4 feet from each other, straight and perfect. You don’t even have to wait for a port-a-potty. And there’s a place to wash your hands. Setting up in T1 was a reminder at how many people join the sport with it being a lesson on how-to-rack-your-bike-and-set-up-transition. The beach start was scary as usual. Large sets rolled in and the strong north current sent you scurrying 50 meters south down the beach… just so you could reach the first buoy. The good news was I didn’t drown and while it still wasn’t pretty, it could have been uglier. I imagine I finished somewhere mid pack coming out of the water. The rough sea managed to easily remove my new age, technologically advanced, waterproof, idiot proof bandage covering the wound created when I tried to unsuccessfully remove my heel on a closet door the previous Sunday. (That was Sergio’s theory on why running had improved, the sore heel meant I had to stay on my forefoot while running.) Through the sand, into T1, a quick spritz of water on the heel to remove the sand from the wound and off I went on le biciclette. It felt ok, a nice 30K out & back, but not fresh. May have been due to the 2 hr ride I took yesterday in my non-taper race format. The run however…..

Felt like wings on a prayer. I ordered a new pair of bright pink Newton racers from Trisports.com and by golly, they arrived and have been partner to happy feet. I finished the run in a pinch over 21 minutes… minutes better than I had been doing in the past. The best part, I felt like there was more in there. The finish ended on a hover craft. You know, the ones you see in movies, and this wasn’t a set, or a toy.. it was real. I ended up winning my division and snapped a with race director TC. Congrats to coach Sergio who won his division & his many athletes that placed in the top in just about every division.

So the next step is Budapest. I’m beginning to get excited….

Article in the Examiner

Short & Sweet:

http://wwww.examiner.com/x-40890-San-Diego-Endurance-Sports-Examiner~y2010m4d11-Superfrog-and-seal-athlete-profiles-Dave-McMahon-and-Raja-Lahti

Finally starting my year!

Triathlon is one of those great sports that leaves you guessing during your race. Where am I? Who's in front of me? Hell, who's actually racing? Am I being hunted? You start, swim, bike, run, finish and have no clue how you did. In that respect, it's rather an uneventful race. Not like a road race where you generally know who the heck just dropped you on your fanny and proceeds to pull away from your wrecked body. Nope... gotta wait. Go back to transition, deck change out of your wet "diapers" as I call the wet, cold, salty encrusted kit that was clung to your sweaty body. Put your bike away, come back, have a beer at the garden, eat a hot dog and then wedge your way back to the results board in hopes that they have listed the tentative results. It's always good news however, when your name is at the top of the list for your division. Even better when your BFF Stacy Dietrich (Velo Bella) placed 2nd right behind you. I actually expected her to run me down, but considering she just had a big, beautiful baby boy November 1st, I'd say she's ahead of schedule. Ladies, if you want to know the true definition of "pump and go"... ask Stacy!

I can say, I didn't expect to defend my win from last year. Mid January I wrecked my left ankle. (Yup, my clip in/out ankle). I sprained it. It was one of those injuries you just close your eyes and know it's not good. It was stupid too. Just not looking where I was going. I never had it x-rayed, but it wouldn't surprise me if a fracture was involved. On crutches & air cast for a month, and another month before I could run a simple 30 minutes. I dare not say easy, even that 30 minutes was hard. Under the watchful eye of Gino Cinco, my saviour ART physical therapist, my recovery progressed and each week felt better than the last. Turns out your toe flexors stop firing and little things like standing on one leg are frustratingly challenging. Doh! So hi ho, hi ho, it's off to pt I go. Or went...

Needless to say, it ended up being a good day. Stacy & I exited the water together. We grabbed our bikes together. We left transition together. From there, she always had me in sight. Nothing eventful on the bike, outside of the nasty head/cross wind on this straight forward 2 loop, flat bike course. I tried to keep slightly easier gears & higher cadence into the wind, and push the biggest gear possible downwind. That happened to be my 12 since I couldn't shift into my 11. And I was sooo proud of myself, I cleaned my bike, changed cassettes, changed brake pads (for carbon wheels), adjusted my brake cables for the wide Zipp rims, and slowly, and meticulously graced my TT bike with my new 404/808 Zipp wheelset. Next time I should probably make sure I have all my gears too.

Then I got to the run. It hurt. Slower than last year. Nothing to write home about, just good enough to hold off the field. I survived the sand thanks to the extra rain we've gotten this spring (a little extra vegetation over the sand kept most sections a bit more firm than last year). I've only started training again one month ago, and was lucky enough to be invited to train with Sergio Borges with X Training. I've had great experiences with coaches Lesley Paterson & Peter Clode, but this was an invite I couldn't turn down. Sergio is a very hands on coach with 3 coached workouts a week. After my ankle debacle, I needed all the support I could get. And just as promised, Sergio was there on the run course, "just stay focused" he advised. Oh, so true. By mile 4 I had the "puky" feeling. It stayed with me the rest of the run.

So, since you've read all the way to the bottom of my superseal-bellaventure, I must profess, I'm a dork. In my effort to "stay off my feet" the day before the race, I decided to march my not-so-suzy-homemaker rear to the fabric store and buy a yard of plush terry cloth. See, Vela, or "Princess Vela" as I call her, loves her doggie-baths. I think she rolls in the stinkiest crap on purpose. 'Cause after the bath she virtually runs into a towel to be dried off. So, I figured the task of hand sewing velcro on a yard of terry cloth to make her her very own robe would keep me seated for awhile. It did. Along with many many finger pricks. Note to self... not recommended. Stick to cycling. :-)

Umm...

A little behind with things right now. 82 unread emails in my Gmail. Ouch. 2 Race reports to write (I know better than to wait to write them! ugh!) and a laundry list of "to-dos".

Soon... I will write something worth reading. About traveling across the world to race in a world of compression sock madness. About best friends ave beautiful babies. And about my dog.. who is the funniest creature that walks in this household... soon..

Live!

Click here for live results:
http://www.triathlon.org/?call=TVRnNQ==&keep=sh

ITU World Championships

Check facebook for my latest updates on my adventure to Australia for the ITU Sprint World Championships. I have an app for that on my iphone.

Click HERE

Honey, Trouble and Kitty

Y’all can call me Honey.

That’s right, that sticky, gooey, sweet mess of a disaster that was discovered at 2AM upon arrival at the hotel. My Fage yoghurt/honey had punctured in my suitcase and spent the last 10 hours oozing through little holes in the plastic bag in which they were supposed to be contained. Ahhh man! Fage is my miracle workout food. Won’t race without it. With no Trader Joe’s in this side of the state, I was required to bring my own. And I brought it. All over my helmet, toiletries, clothes and shoes. I spent the next hour washing and cleaning honey from places honey doesn’t need to belong. Thursday, 3AM, lights out, finally.

Checking in for my return Southwest flight back to San Diego, the TSA agent asks me as he’s manually screening my disk wheel for explosives.
TSA: “What is it? A bike tye-rr?”
Me: “A special bike wheel for racing. I don’t trust the baggage monkeys with it.”
TSA: “Where it at?”
Me: “Tuscaloosa”
TSA: “What’d ya think of da Black Warrior River?”
Me: “Uh…. Before or after my 43 minutes of hell?”

Well, in all honesty, I don’t think BWR was going to be highlight of the day, before or after. My introduction to the river that flows through Tuscaloosa, AL (home of the Crimson Tide, University of Alabama) was, “its 85 degrees and home of water moccasins.” Sa-weet! Let’s jump in and go for a swim, why don’t we. As it turns out neither the temperature nor the snakes were really the problem. Before I get to the problem, let’s talk Crimson Tide.

If you asked me on Wednesday what I thought you meant when a woman said “crimson tide” I would’ve responded with “oh, sorry, you too??” Ask me on Thursday, I’d tell you it was a charming town of students wearing burgundy Nike running shorts. Yup, 8 out of 9 students in Tuscaloosa, AL wear Nike shorts. You see one group of girls wearing them. Then another group. And another. Soon you realize that they’re all wearing them. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Fascinating. Not that it really matters. I digress.

En route to Tuscaloosa I got the chance to witness two lighting storms that could probably power a small nation (one viewed from the plane and one from the ground), two days of rain, with said 2nd lightning storm letting loose a downpour of nearly 2 inches in less than 60 minutes. For a good ‘ol California girl, that was quite an experience. When we get rain, it lasts for days, not minutes, and we get a fraction of an inch, not several inches. Hell, they have grass in Alabama in the summer! This rain also caused a little flooding upstream. So Joe Waterboy opened the flood gates at the base of the Black Warrior River so the poor folk upstream could stop treading water. That’s fine and dandy…until you have to swim in it! I now know what my very own endless pool feels like. Just kinda blows when you’re actually supposed to be racing. You see, when racing, the intent is not to actually swim backwards.

Learn something new every day. I learned that on a day like August 22, 2009, not being a strong swimmer was going to cost dearly. I met up with fellow San Diegans Neily “Trouble” Mathias, Marisa “Kitty” Rastetter, Diana Black and Lesley Tomaich who were racing as well. I love these girls. They make a bad day fun. Oh boy did we have fun after the misery was over. More about that later. I am the weakest swimmer of the bunch and it was advertised like a neon billboard in the middle of an ocean. Instead of closing the flood gates to weaken the otherwise brisk current (as we were initially told would happen), the gates were opened to accommodate upstream flooding causing the current to strengthen. 1000 meters of our 1500 course was upstream. The top swimmers will usually swim a 1500 course in anywhere from 16-20 minutes. After the first wave went off and 16 minutes into the swim the leaders were only half way, we knew it was going to be a long day in the water. For top swimmers, times were 20-40% slower that normal. For average swimmers (me), it was more like 50-65% slower. For weak swimmers, well, some didn’t finish the swim.

I try to encourage new triathletes that the swim isn’t the hardest part of a race. The run is always the hardest because it’s last and you’re tired. The swim is usually the scariest, but not hardest. This day, it was the hardest. On top of a rip roaring current, it was muddy. So muddy in fact, you couldn’t see your hand enter the water right in front of your face. This meant that whoever was swimming up from behind you (later waves of swimmers) couldn’t see you, so they just swam over you. I have never been so beat up and repeatedly dunked (as their hand enters the water on your back and pushes you under) in a race, ever. And I let it get to my head. I wanted to cry. I wanted out. I’d already been in the water well beyond my normal 26 minute swim time and I was over it. I don’t get frustrated to the point of breaking too often, but this was one of those moments. I was not surprised to see my watch ticking beyond 44 minutes when I got in to T1. Frustration turned to anger. I was pissed. Everyone in T1 was pissed. You could see the frustration in the eyes of many. “What the F%@&!!??!?” were words uttered by more than a few. On a positive note, I did rescue someone timing chip while swimming. On one of my many dunkings, happen to swim into a chip that was floating, stuffed it in my swim skin and threw it at the volunteer at T1, "This ain't mine". You can see me holding the extra chip in my delirium on the way up to T1.

Once out on the bike, it occurred to me just how disastrous my swim had been. I was going to be in damage control mode. Marisa, Neily & Lesley were all out on the bike already. Their waves started upwards of 6-12 minutes behind me. I don’t expect to beat any of those women as they are all stellar athletes, but I do use them to gauge my performance. Marisa has rocked launchers attached to her quads and she was outta there & gone. I passed Neily & Lesley in the first half of the first bike lap. I would expect to see both those ladies run me down. They had a lot of time on me and I had to make up some time. Not to mention, I had all my pent up frustration to burn. So I hit it hard. The smooth, rolling course would lend itself to fast splits, but when I saw the 31/32 minute split for the first lap (20K) I knew I was either on fire, ortemporary numb & going to blow up on the run. I steadied the pace and finished in 1:06 (my computer registered 1:05:30). A new PR for a 40K triathlon course.

I had no clue what would happen on the run. My left foot has been troubling me for the last few weeks. Advil & ice was all therapy I’d had time for with my demanding work travel schedule. Talking with friends and Doc John via the phone, we concluded it’s most likely plantiar faciatis. Never had it before. Never care to have it again. Hurts like hell for the first 5 or 6 minutes of a run, then settles to a dull ache or goes away altogether. I expected the first 5 minutes of the run I may be limping. Hopefully I’d run out of it. I felt like typical poo for the first half of the run. The course was such that the 3 hills were all in the first half of the course. The last half was flat. The first hill, Library Hill, was a quarter mile of 8-10% grade out & back. Ouch. I saw Les & Neils on the way down. Neils & I gave each other a hi-5 which was all I needed to lift the spirits. My foot hurt. “Good, run till something else hurts more than your foot” I told myself. Second hill, mantra in rhythm to running steps, “I like this, I enjoy this, I like this.” Third hill, “you paid for this, you paid A LOT for this.” I laughed at myself. Silly Raja. Who’s the nutbag now? By the time I got down to the flat I was back to, “run till something hurts more than your foot.” Or until your legs turn to lead bricks.

I finished with something far from a PR for the Olympic distance. I finished with an understanding that sometimes you get lucky (like the swim being cancelled at Newport), and sometimes you get unlucky. As unhappy as I was about this swim, for once, the swimmers had a race they could win on their swim alone. That doesn’t happen often, so I just have to chalk it up to experience. I did however PR on the bike split as well as my 10K run time of 45 min n’change. I wanted to break 45, but having the foot to deal with, I thought I wasn’t going to get close. I came closer than expected. I also learned, that while I placed 20th in my age group (top 25 get chance for Worlds), I ended up being ranked 27th for World’s due to age ups from the 25-29 age group. I was bumped from my chance to go to Budapest in 2010. Can’t tell you how upsetting that was. Everyone who could swim in my group qualified. Marisa placed 7th, Neily 9th, Lesley 14th in their age groups and only got jostled a few spots from age-ups. I did not. I felt like a rug had been ripped from my feet. I got dealt a painful hand.

Then Craig Zelent from San Diego said something supportive to me and I can’t even tell you what it was, but it triggered a light in my dismal tunnel of failure. I’m here because I want to be. I’m bummed because I am competitive and I want to prove to myself that I am good enough to qualify. I am only here because 10 years ago I broke my back and couldn’t walk and made the decision at that point to try a triathlon. It seemed impossible at the time. But I was one of the few who overcame a challenge, and just to be here is good enough. There will always be girls better than me. I thank Marisa, Neils, Les & Diana for being so incredibly supportive and supplying never-ending streams of goodwill and fun.

For that night, after the award ceremony, we went out dancing and show’d them good’ol Crim’sen Al’bama boys how the girls from California can rip up a dance floor.

Top Ten Memorable Moments at USAT Nationals 2009

10. Crossing the finish line at a National Championship event. You don’t ever forget. Even more so, the feeling of rocking it on the bike.
9. The largest section of Grits I’ve ever seen. Not even sure what grits are…
8. Meeting new friends with names like “Spider”
7. Viewing a strobe light of a lightning storm from the plane. Can’t tell you how delighted I was to not be under that storm. Yikes! Enough energy to power a small continent.
6. Gino, my physical therapist commenting on the rather unsightly large bruise acquired during my swim battle.
5. Wanting to cry with my goggles on… while swimming backward.
4. The adventure at the market: “Butt Rub Makes Everything Better”
3. Showing them ‘Bama boys how the California girls like to have a good time
2. The blow to the side at award when I didn’t qualify for Worlds due to my swim time and the realization that if I want to do better, I’m going to have to spend a lot of time doing what I don’t enjoy most… swimming
1. Laughing till my stomach hurt, enjoying wine & dessert with friends post race and hanging out with a bunch of rad, wicked cool chicks nicked-named "Trouble" and "Kitty" who made everything better.

A Box of Chocolates

It's been a tough year for me. After all, it is already the end of July and I feel like all I've done this year is work... cough. My physician, a sports med doc, a pulmonologist, now an allergist, and perhaps an ENT later... all I know is that my lungs are healthy and my sinuses are less than ideal. Why? who knows, check's in the mail.

So when I got clearance from the doc to work out again mid July, I felt like someone had released me from shackles. Like my dog Vela, when you take her off the leash... she goes crazy. Spins and whirls, wiggles and gyrates. It's pretty cool to imagine yourself so flexible your butt can touch your head. I imagine I would break if I tried, so I'll live vicariously through our not-so-little bounding joy of canine companion.

With 10 solid days of workouts, 3 swims, 3 trips to Gino (ART physical therapy) to work on a strained right hammy, Dave & I packed up for a fast & furious weekend. Friday started with an early 2 hr ride before work and ended with dinner with 25 of my Velo Bella teammates and host Alex Burgress. Lessons on what it means to be a Bella, and how the cross girls really do flair! Y'all are nuts! Good thing us tri girls are... errr... sane.

Saturday morning just dreamy. Sleek and slippery, that new Ellsworth CoEfficient stared at me and I couldn't help the drool. Sandra restrained herself, the thoughts of perhaps the first person to lick the bike would be able to claim it as their own. Then hunger struck and Tony cooked up a fabulous BBQ. To think all this time I've been riding Highland Valley... my precious CoEfficient has been sooo close.

DeeAnn, Amy, Vicky & myself take off for Newport Beach to check in for the Pacific Coast Triathlon, host of the USA Triathlon Sprint National Championships. This was the Hail-Mary pass to qualify for Worlds. I convinced Dave to go for a little swim, play in the surf a little since I hadn't yet been able to due to sinus infections. We walked down the steep bank and thought it best to check in with the lifeguard first. Surf had been labeled "hazardous" for the last couple of days and just around the corner at The Wedge, a body surfer was killed under the crushing surf.

"Nobody's getting in the water today, surf is too dangerous here" said the lifeguard. Ok, no swimmy for me. Tomorrow? We'd have to wait to find out in the morning. If we do swim with this surf.... I think I'm going to pull out the water wings. Dave & I take off and drive to a friend's for the night.

Later that night, reports were flying of 25' surf at the wedge earlier in the day.

Sunday morning arrived waaaay to early. I do have to remind myself at 4:30AM that I paid money to do this.

I rack my bike and realize I've forgotten my chip in the car. Oh goodness, everyday racing is a learning experience! I just back on the bike and wiz off back to the car for both my chip & swim cap. Ugg. Lucky for me, the girls in my wave were nice enough to save the rack spot for me. Then.. the bullhorn. Swim is cancelled, and we will instead run down the length of the beach, up the steep bluff walkway and to T1. Although I had not yet done a duathlon before, I was quite delighted not to have to challenge mother nature and her washing-machine wrath of 10' surf.

Off we go, running through the sand. I was smart enough to bring 2 pairs of running shoes (race flats & a dry pair for after) and chose to wear my training shoes for the short sand run and leave my race flats sand-free for the post bike 3 mile run.

Before you knew it, we were off on the bike. My mounts & dismounts blow. Gotta work on those.

The course was a short 13 mile rolling 2 lap course. I tried to hit the hills hard to make up for a soon-to-be sorry run. I just didn't really think about the lack of high-intensity training, and at the top of every hill I would adorne myself with a little extra "flair". Yeah, it was going to be one of those days. Not much was going to stay down. I clocked at 35 n'change bike for the 2nd fastest in my age group. The run was brutal. I'm not sure there's a race where the run isn't brutal. Just the nature of the beast. Lesley's Scottish voice chased me the entire run, "come on Rrrraa'ya!" Out, around and down to the sand... again. I hate sand, but geeze it looks good in the backdrop of a photo. Just when you're done running in the sand, you have to haul your poor lactic legs up the bluff. I probably could have walked up faster... but alas, I wouldn't have been able to pick up running again if I did. I felt like I was dragging a bowling ball and just throwing myself up the hill. I finish unchallenged and promptly drown myself in water.

I catch Marisa, Amy, Neily and DeeAnn finishing. They all looked better that I felt. My poor husband has now been finished for quite some time, has already changed and looks like he just jumped out of the shower. Not to mention he's starving. God knows, keep the man fed!

Amy & I walk over to the results - My results were posted, 5th in the division. Top 12 qualifiy for Worlds! I'm stunned. I wasn't supposed to qualify that easily. Turns out, we all qualified!

I will accept the invite to ITU Age Group Sprint World Championships in Australia Sept 13th. If I never qualify again, I would regret turning down the opportunity. So as retarted as it is to spend a rediculous amount of money to fly for 24 hrs to the other side of the world for a race that will maybe last an hour that you have no business racing (for lack of any quality training), it it an opportunity that may be once-in-a-lifetime. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to Australia I go!

In the twisted words of hollywood, Triathlon is "like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get."

Special thanks to those around me who have kept my head above water at times I felt like I was drowing: Coach Peter Clode, Confindant Neily Mathias, Lesley "The Inspirer" Paterson, Sports Med doc John Martinez, Gino "The Thumb" Cinco, and of course, my hubby Dave, who was pretty sure I was going to drop dead from a chronic cough.

Happy Riding,

Raja