It is time.
Time to mother%^$#*& work. Work on the bike. Work in the pool. Work on the run. Work in the weight room. (That should probably be "work" in the weight room. 'Cause as much as I try, I still hate that stuff.)
70.3 flat, windy, hot (mother%^&*$% hot) miles to cover in May are a little more than 12 weeks away.
The work doesn't stop there.
The house is now officially for sale. We're moving a mile away in mid April. So until April, this house, to quote Miss Hannigan (my apologies, but E is on a huge "Annie" kick as of late) "better shine like the top of the Chrysler building!"
It's a hard knock life.
Well, not really. The new house is awesome and I can't wait to move, but trying to clean, straighten and put away while two tiny people follow right behind you systematically dismantling everything you just folded, swept and windexed can be trying.
Even more so, when say you just finished hard run or a 3 hour brick and all you want to do is eat, shower and sleep. And you know, none of those is happening anytime soon.
I think I can understand where Miss Hannigan was coming from. Maybe she was trying to sell the orphanage while 70.3 training? And all those dancing and singing orphans just kept making messes?
It's possible....
Hmmm...now E's singing under her breath after I told here we are no longer allowed to jump on the made beds EVER again...."'steada treated, we get tricked. steada kisses, we get kicked!" all makes sense.
TOMORROW. TOMORROW...I LOVE YA.
(Who wouldn't? It's a rest day.)
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Earning it
Triathlon is stuff-intensive. The whole three-sportiness of it all, I guess.
Bike, bike shoes, helmet, sunglasses, running shoes, , tri top, tri shorts, bathing suit, goggles, swim cap, wetsuit, bike trainer,.
And that stuff is just the basics.
You get a little better, a little faster, a little more knowledgeable and now you want...no, you need..
a coach. those sweet zoot racing flats. a polar heart rate monitor (but not the cute girly one that you already got suckered into buying 'cause it was baby blue. no lap buttons on that p.o.s. this new one is big, black and kind of ugly, but actually functional for splits) oh, yeah, gotta have that garmin. Compression socks (that new coach is making your legs really sore.)
Your "triathlon drawer" starts to take over the entire closet. You consider in your imminent move making the extra closet in the master "just for workout stuff" okay, sweetie?
You're gonna need more room for....
Racing wheels. Road bike. Speed suit. Power meter. Aero helmet. Computrainer. Masters swimming. Compression tights.
Just kidding about those last few things....
As much as I would welcome all that stuff (oh yeah, you=me in this post.), I don't really think I've earned it yet. I am not fast enough.
Yet.
I didn't get Copas ($100 cleats at the time) until I made the state soccer team. After playing for 11 years.
But, man, were those some sweet cleats.
Bike, bike shoes, helmet, sunglasses, running shoes, , tri top, tri shorts, bathing suit, goggles, swim cap, wetsuit, bike trainer,.
And that stuff is just the basics.
You get a little better, a little faster, a little more knowledgeable and now you want...no, you need..
a coach. those sweet zoot racing flats. a polar heart rate monitor (but not the cute girly one that you already got suckered into buying 'cause it was baby blue. no lap buttons on that p.o.s. this new one is big, black and kind of ugly, but actually functional for splits) oh, yeah, gotta have that garmin. Compression socks (that new coach is making your legs really sore.)
Your "triathlon drawer" starts to take over the entire closet. You consider in your imminent move making the extra closet in the master "just for workout stuff" okay, sweetie?
You're gonna need more room for....
Racing wheels. Road bike. Speed suit. Power meter. Aero helmet. Computrainer. Masters swimming. Compression tights.
Just kidding about those last few things....
As much as I would welcome all that stuff (oh yeah, you=me in this post.), I don't really think I've earned it yet. I am not fast enough.
Yet.
I didn't get Copas ($100 cleats at the time) until I made the state soccer team. After playing for 11 years.
But, man, were those some sweet cleats.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Chattahoochee Challenge 10K Race Report
Ahh....I love being done with races.
Do I love racing them? Sometimes.
Do I love training for them? Most of the time.
Do I love the morning of races? Absolutely not.
This was my first race of 2010. And in my strange quest to constantly beat myself, there was some extra pressure. I was fighting off nerves all week....for a 10k! Sheesh. This morning was full of "my chest hurts, bronchitis for sure", "my stomach hurts, ow."...etc, etc, etc.
Goal? Beat 44:18. My time from last year on this same course.
This race could not be easier for me to get to, or more comfortable. I train on these roads all the time. Flat and fast. Only if they could actually make it 6.2, instead of 6.29 miles (that extra .09 really makes a HUGE difference if say, you might be dry heaving since you kicked too early....not sayin' that I did that, doesn't sound like me at all.) ;)
Warm up with Jill and Andrea. So nice to have friendly faces at races. (Congrats to both of them for PR's and 2 and 3 in their AG!)
And.....(insert nervous girl talk about the increasing hotness of Michael Vartan and waning hotness of Bradley Cooper)...GO!
Miles 1-4, my goal was to stay around 7:00. Just maintain, don't be dumb and go out too hard. I love you, Garmin. I would have totally messed this up without the constant reminder to slow the eff down. I knew I would regret it later if I pushed too early.
Mile 1 - 7:03
Mile 2 - 6:52 (whoops)
Mile 3 - 6:58
Mile 4 - 7:04 (ow)
I was trying to fool myself into thinking that the real race started at mile 5. The first 4 miles were just a warm up. Get to 5. Get to 5. Get to 5 and then GO! Well, getting to 5 and GOING really just meant, getting to 5 and maintaining. Totally fine. I pushed as hard as I could until the dry heaves came. (They always come.) Then done!
Mile 5 - 6:57
Mile 6 - 6:57
43:50/Avg. pace 6:59
10th OA/1st AG
32 year old me was taken down. Slow whippersnapper.
Jill, Andrea and I took home some sweet necklaces.
Do I love racing them? Sometimes.
Do I love training for them? Most of the time.
Do I love the morning of races? Absolutely not.
This was my first race of 2010. And in my strange quest to constantly beat myself, there was some extra pressure. I was fighting off nerves all week....for a 10k! Sheesh. This morning was full of "my chest hurts, bronchitis for sure", "my stomach hurts, ow."...etc, etc, etc.
Goal? Beat 44:18. My time from last year on this same course.
This race could not be easier for me to get to, or more comfortable. I train on these roads all the time. Flat and fast. Only if they could actually make it 6.2, instead of 6.29 miles (that extra .09 really makes a HUGE difference if say, you might be dry heaving since you kicked too early....not sayin' that I did that, doesn't sound like me at all.) ;)
Warm up with Jill and Andrea. So nice to have friendly faces at races. (Congrats to both of them for PR's and 2 and 3 in their AG!)
And.....(insert nervous girl talk about the increasing hotness of Michael Vartan and waning hotness of Bradley Cooper)...GO!
Miles 1-4, my goal was to stay around 7:00. Just maintain, don't be dumb and go out too hard. I love you, Garmin. I would have totally messed this up without the constant reminder to slow the eff down. I knew I would regret it later if I pushed too early.
Mile 1 - 7:03
Mile 2 - 6:52 (whoops)
Mile 3 - 6:58
Mile 4 - 7:04 (ow)
I was trying to fool myself into thinking that the real race started at mile 5. The first 4 miles were just a warm up. Get to 5. Get to 5. Get to 5 and then GO! Well, getting to 5 and GOING really just meant, getting to 5 and maintaining. Totally fine. I pushed as hard as I could until the dry heaves came. (They always come.) Then done!
Mile 5 - 6:57
Mile 6 - 6:57
43:50/Avg. pace 6:59
10th OA/1st AG
32 year old me was taken down. Slow whippersnapper.
Jill, Andrea and I took home some sweet necklaces.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Halfsies
1.5
4.5
and 70.3
Respectively pertaining to Alice's age, Ella's age and the amount of miles I hope to cover as fast as possible at Gulf Coast.
We're all going halfsies lately.
Like a lot of my bloggy friends, this blog is my defacto training diary/baby book. Such a strange (yet fitting) combination....kind of like the mommy/triathlete combo, too.
Strange, yet fitting. For me, at least. :)
Baby book time...
Alice at one and a half is a pistol.
That's the best word to describe her short, little, sassy self. Full of it. Funny. Loves to dance. She thinks "no" means "yes" and it cracks us up, a lot. "Alice...do you want a cookie?" "no." "Alice...do you want to play?" "no." Likes to race. As in "ready. set. GO!" and she "runs". She thinks walking around with her eyes closed is a good idea. That or with a blanket on her head. Then BAM! hits the wall and cries and does it again. Again, cracks us up, a lot.
Ella at 4 and a half is awesome. I can't believe how big she is now. Tall and skinny. (Where the heck did she get THAT from?!?) All her pants are always too short, 'cause she is growing out of them so fast (in stark contrast with her sister, who is ALWAYS too short for her pants.) E is the queen of "As Seen on TV". She has the brownie pan, the hands free toothpaste dispenser, the pillow pet and is begging for me to get "Your Baby Can Read" for Alice. (Not that she can read, but she's ready to teach Alice.) "But, Mommy, Alice could read!!!", like I am being a negligent mother by not buying that piece of crap. Alice's hobbies: Walking into walls. Falling down stairs. Yelling for cookies. Reading Tolstoy.
Both are the most perfect, beautiful children. In the world. Ever.
Just my unbiased opinion.
Training log time...
I am so excited for Gulf Coast. Already. I have months of training to go, but I feel so far ahead of where I have been in any February. I just do what Jen tells me (or try to do what she tells me at the very least) and trust it. I love that. I know she's getting me ready to rock. And that rocks.
4.5
and 70.3
Respectively pertaining to Alice's age, Ella's age and the amount of miles I hope to cover as fast as possible at Gulf Coast.
We're all going halfsies lately.
Like a lot of my bloggy friends, this blog is my defacto training diary/baby book. Such a strange (yet fitting) combination....kind of like the mommy/triathlete combo, too.
Strange, yet fitting. For me, at least. :)
Baby book time...
Alice at one and a half is a pistol.
That's the best word to describe her short, little, sassy self. Full of it. Funny. Loves to dance. She thinks "no" means "yes" and it cracks us up, a lot. "Alice...do you want a cookie?" "no." "Alice...do you want to play?" "no." Likes to race. As in "ready. set. GO!" and she "runs". She thinks walking around with her eyes closed is a good idea. That or with a blanket on her head. Then BAM! hits the wall and cries and does it again. Again, cracks us up, a lot.
Ella at 4 and a half is awesome. I can't believe how big she is now. Tall and skinny. (Where the heck did she get THAT from?!?) All her pants are always too short, 'cause she is growing out of them so fast (in stark contrast with her sister, who is ALWAYS too short for her pants.) E is the queen of "As Seen on TV". She has the brownie pan, the hands free toothpaste dispenser, the pillow pet and is begging for me to get "Your Baby Can Read" for Alice. (Not that she can read, but she's ready to teach Alice.) "But, Mommy, Alice could read!!!", like I am being a negligent mother by not buying that piece of crap. Alice's hobbies: Walking into walls. Falling down stairs. Yelling for cookies. Reading Tolstoy.
Both are the most perfect, beautiful children. In the world. Ever.
Just my unbiased opinion.
Training log time...
I am so excited for Gulf Coast. Already. I have months of training to go, but I feel so far ahead of where I have been in any February. I just do what Jen tells me (or try to do what she tells me at the very least) and trust it. I love that. I know she's getting me ready to rock. And that rocks.
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