Building Power

October.  The time for crunching through fallen leaves.  Drinking good beer.  Sipping hot cider and pumpkin spice lattes with a good book.  The morning air is crisp despite the days still being warm and sunny.  The windows are left open and in the middle of the night you reach for the blanket to ward off the chill.

I am overcome with the urge to run.  Run long distances.  On soft, dirt covered trails.  Over mountains and through the desert.

Just because it's fall.

Some people get spring fever anticipating the change to nicer weather.  Here in the Valley of the Sun, I get fall frenzy.  Spurred on by that subtle change in the weather that reminds me there are days that don't require heat advisories.  Some people go into hibernation, pack on a few pounds.  I lace up my running shoes and pound the pavement.

While most people are wrapping up their racing season in Kona or New York City, I am prepping for my final build to Ironman Arizona.  In the process I am looking forward to next year and beginning to set goals for the season ahead.

Since coming back from Wisconsin Coach put me back on trails once a week and has had me knocking out some hard workouts on the bike utilizing my new Powertap.  My husband has remarked on several occasions that he hasn't seen me work this hard since our build up for IMAZ 2012 (my PR race).  And it's true.  Since 2012, I slacked off on the bike and lost some fitness.  Now, with the truth staring me in the face, there's no avoiding work.  I can no longer rely on my "perceived exertion" which, let's face it, is less than accurate.

Little by little, I am starting to gain fitness on the bike.  I love the feeling of being completely smashed after a hard 4 hour ride.  I had forgotten that I could feel like this after a bike ride.  It's generally a feeling reserved for the longest of long runs.  And I am thriving.  I crave that endorphin fix, and the burn in my legs.  The feeling of complete exhaustion combined with accomplishment.

Little by little I can see how this new tool is going to revolutionize my training and racing.  I start to look to next year.  I know that Arizona is too soon.  In analyzing my training and racing data, what we have discovered is that I have been taking it way to easy in training and then when I race I push myself far beyond anything my body has been prepared for.  And subsequently I don't have the legs I need to execute the marathon.  Ironically, I can cheat my way through the half iron distance and still manage to post podium or near podium results.  But when it comes to Ironman, my weakness is exposed.  The good news is that with the right training, my bike leg is about to be revolutionized and I will be able to get off the bike and run the pace that I know I can run.  I don't have enough hours in the remaining 5 weeks to do the work that needs to be done.  But maybe, just maybe, by May I will be an entirely new athlete.  With weeks upon weeks of work behind me, and redefined legs as proof.

I've been doing a lot of reading lately.  Athlete's blogs.  My coach's blog.  Random people on facebook who have an opinion about what it means to follow a dream.  One thing I have come to realize is that some dreams are never going to happen.  No matter how much I love ballet and worked hard through my childhood to be the best dancer I could be, my body will never be that of a ballerina.  I have a weird pelvic alignment.  I am not able to turn my hips out.  It's never going to happen.

I have also realized that when a dream is within reach, only relentless hard work, laser focus and single-minded dedication will chip away at the proverbial rock day after day until one day that rock bursts into a million pieces and I am left standing at the top of the podium.  

I am not afraid of work.

I am not afraid of commitment.

I am not afraid of having a dream... and putting it out there for all to see.

I am not afraid of Finding Kona.  No matter how long it takes.

Finding Kona

Once upon a time there lived a princess.  She was raised by the King and Queen in a humble castle surrounded by green lawns and big shade trees.  The couple ensured that the princess had not only her physical needs met, but her emotional needs as well.  They reminded her daily, "you can do anything you want to do!" and she believed them.  Throughout her life she tested their promise and proved it over and over again to be valid.

When she was young, she imagined herself a cheerleader.  Standing on the sidelines under the Friday night lights with her closest friends having fun, laughing, and making memories.  Though she was not the most talented, she worked hard and tried out.  Her spirit could not be matched and she was granted membership to the team.

As she worked her way through school, she dreamed of becoming a veterinarian.  She chose the right classes, worked hard, and one day had completed her requirements for admission.  She took a leap of faith and submitted the application.  A few months later she received the phone call, she was to start veterinary school in the fall.  

Life went on, and the princess got busy and a little overwhelmed.  For a short time she got bogged down and forgot who she was.  She forgot that she could do anything, and so she did nothing.  One day she woke up, as if from a horrible nightmare, and realized that she was missing out on life.  She didn't know what to do, and so she ran.  She ran at first to escape from a life that she didn't recognize.  And then she ran because it reinforced in her the belief that she could do anything.  

She ran, and every day, the world looked a little bit brighter and little by little she remembered what the King and Queen had taught her.  One day her running shoes seemed a little bit worse for the wear and so she wandered into a running specialty store in search of a new pair.  She left that day with a new pair of running shoes, and a handsome prince by her side.

The prince and princess would journey through life together discovering new adventures and pushing the boundaries of what they believed was possible.  Together the turned their love of running into a pursuit of the sport of triathlon, and they excelled.  They traveled all over the country racing in this sport that had captured their hearts.  The prince was very good.  He earned a chance to race in the World Championships, and honor the princess never dreamed could be possible for herself.  

Together they journeyed to the Big Island where this legendary race took place.  That fall, she had her own race planned 6 weeks later and so continued her training on the island.  After a very long, very hot, and very trying bike ride on the World Championship course she declared that she NEVER wanted to compete in this race.  EVER!  

The prince finished the race, and would go back to race a second time years later.  This time the princess had a bit more training experience under her belt.  She didn't take her bike, but rather ran and swam on the course.  She rented a stand-up paddle board, and would spend hours cruising up and down the coastline lost in her own thoughts.  It was there that she gave up her previous negative thoughts about herself and decided that she would, in fact, like to race in the World Championships. 

She did some research and came across a program, called the Legacy, which allowed any athlete who had completed 12 Ironman events to enter a special lottery.  She decided that if she was physically able to complete 12 races, that surely, she could survive the World Championship course.  And so it came to pass that the princess entered 6 races over the next 2 years to finish out her requirement for the Legacy Program.

But something unexpected and wonderful happened along the way.  The princess got stronger and faster.  And the stronger and faster she got, the more she began to believe in herself.  And when the 12 events were done, she no longer wanted to go to the World Championships on a lottery ticket.  She wanted to qualify.  She wanted to earn her slot.  And belong to the mass of people lined up in the water when the cannon sounds on that early October morn.  

The princess knows the work that will be required to achieve a goal of this magnitude.  But she is not afraid.  She knows that heart will trump talent, and that if she works hard and wants this just a little bit more than the next girl, that one day she will see her dream come true.  And so it was with great courage and strength that the princess brushed aside all doubt, and stood on the mountain top with her bike raised above her head, to announce to the world....

I dream of finding Kona.

     

The Art of Pacing Through the Pain

Today I ran the Fiesta Bowl 1/2 Marathon.  My goal?  To run under 1:36:00.  To set a new PR.  What made today special?  I took a slightly different approach to the race.  I joined a pace team.  A new tactic for me.

A trusted friend volunteered to lead the 1:35 pace group for the 1/2 marathon.  I was excited when he posted this duty and immediately jumped on board.  In addition, my husband (who is just bringing his mileage and speed back up after a month off due to injury) joined the group to help keep me on track since he wasn't fit enough to race his own pace.  With friends like this on board, what could go wrong?

We started near the front line and immediately after the gun went off, SR was monitoring his watch and his Garmin to ensure that we stayed on pace, not too fast, but not slower than necessary.  The first mile felt easy.  Probably because it was the first mile.  But by 7 minutes into the race, I knew that it was going to take everything I had today to get across the line under 1:36. 

Our group started with maybe a dozen people.  My husband and SR set the pace up front and chatted easily.  I tucked in behind SR and just focused on his loping stride.  I tried not to think much.  Just run.  Slowly, we lost members of our team and by the time we hit 8 miles there were 3 of us left. 

For the first 8-10 miles, the aid stations were spread out 2 miles apart.  Each of the last 3 miles contained aid.  As we approached the water stations, my husband urged me to keep running and he'd bring me water.  I already felt guilty enough being in a pace group, I felt the need to get my water myself.  So I did.  I don't know if I lost any time, I doubt it. 

We held a steady pace of 7:12-7:15 miles.  With each mile, it became more and more difficult for me to just run.  I hurt.  My quads hurt.  I couldn't control my breathing.  I had a side stitch.  After we passed 9 miles, SR began to gain a little space on me.  I tried my best to hold on.  I kept him in sight.  My husband stayed with me and set a new pace.  Not a sub-1:35 pace, but a PR pace.  For 10 miles we were on 1:35 pace which meant that I had a little cushion (1 minute) in which I could still PR.

He tried his best to encourage me.  To make me run faster.  To want it more.  I felt like I was giving everything I had, and my legs just wouldn't turn over anymore.  My feet were slapping the ground with each footfall.  Gritting my teeth, I growled at him to "stop talking, just set the pace."  I was done.  After my second admonishment, he ran in front of me, quietly setting the pace. 

With each mile marker I glanced at my watch to make sure I was still on pace.  Mile 11 was 7:30.  Crap.  Mile 12, which I swore I'd never get to, was 7:30.  I was losing my cushion.  I was down to 30 seconds to secure my PR.  I put my head down and ran.  My husband was just ahead, cheering me through the last two turns into the finish line.  "Use your arms!"  "Last turn straight ahead!"  "GO!!" 

I crossed the line in 1:35:47.  A PR by 15 seconds.  15 seconds.  That's a mere 1 second per mile.  It's crazy how much one second can hurt.  The last time I ran this course was 3 years ago.  2008 during the build-up to my first Boston-qualifying marathon.  I was in amazing shape that year.  I had run a 1:38 half marathon in Tulsa in November, and 4 weeks later a 1:36:02 at Fiesta Bowl.  4 weeks later?  My first running injury sidelined me.  It's nice to know that 10 days shy of my 35th birthday, I can still run fast.

I have mixed feelings about pace groups.  I always want to feel like I earned the result that I got.  Ultimately, it's my legs that carry me through the 13.1 miles.  No one can do that for me.  And I didn't take any assistance from my husband, even though he freely offered.  But you know what?  Even if it hadn't been my friend leading the pace group, or my husband by my side... it would have been someone else.  That's the beauty of racing.  We use each other, whether we know each other or not.  In the race I ran a month ago, I used the women ahead of me as targets.  I reeled them in slowly one by one.  When someone tried to pass, I picked up the pace and went harder.  It's not really any different than using SR to chase over 10 miles today.  It's just a different strategy.  Not better.  Just different. 

What would have happened today without the pace group?  We'll never know.  I suspect I would have gone out really hard in the first mile or 3, and then held on to finish in a similar time frame.  I was ready for this race.  I was trained for sub-1:36.  I set my goal and realized it.  It's that simple. 

I look forward to next weekend.  Another chance for another PR.  In a 5k... a whole different level of hurt.  It's short, it's sweet, and it's oh so scary.  My husband accused me of being a masochist.  Looking forward to that level of pain.  But as another good friend of mine once said, real pain is sitting around all your life wondering what pain tastes like.