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. :-)