How Do You Eat an Elephant?

Flashback Friday: An excerpt

2012-03-09T13:00:00.000-05:00

I originally wrote this about a novel written by Russian writer Viktor Brook.

I am in the minority (excerpt)

I am in the minority: this desire, this verbal and literary spark, are not for everyone, nor are they in everyone. Some do not search painstakingly for the perfect brew. Those people find coffee on some neatly labeled aisle of a supermarket, stripped of its exquisiteness, hideously defiled by processing, tidily packaged by a nationally recognizable mega-brand, and economically priced. In the same manner, repulsive carbonation and puerile “fruitessences” are injected into a liquid deceitfully ticketed as wine, a pitiful pretense of mass-produced and mass-marketed excrement not evenresembling a bubbly production of the methode champagnoise. Such brands soon become household names.

This is the public experience with espresso, wine, and literature.

But what about the "unitelligent" reader? What about the indifferent drone taking a class simply because he or she needs the credit, or maybe because they enjoy tittering at the responses of the bookwormish student who actually enjoys expanding their mind with such literary novelties? For these questions, there are more finite answers. These readers might discover Brook like a small but impressive batch of wine or a decidedly deep coffee bean; theycould become intrigued and continue to educate themselves stylistically; or, they could simply not get it.

Those readers will continue their quest for conformity, gravitate toward Folger’s and Arbor Mist, and continue to frequent the Danielle Steele section. And maybe it is for these readers that I write. Perhaps, in some essay or some online journal, I could inspire one mind to abandon conventionality and develop appreciation for innovative thought. I have a long way to go, but, powered by my morning espresso and inspired by my evening glass of Morellino di Scansano, I could be able to muddle through.

-2005

Double The Fun . . .

2012-03-08T21:14:00.001-05:00

My goals for the year were as follows:

Swim 120,000 yds (12,000/month OR 3,000/week)
Ride 70+ miles per week (280/month)
Run 10+ miles per week (40/month)

So here is how my actuals stack up so far!!

March's totals:
Bike: 3h 27m 11s - 60.33 Mi March has only been "on" for 7 days, so this isn't too far off
Run: 1h 32m 21s - 7.47 Mi This is just sad. I should pick it up.
Swim: 2h 45m 23s - 6400 Yd This is ridiculous!
So, what you can see from March's numbers is that I really have a swim focus, because most of my time is dedicated to that.

2012 totals
Bike: 34h 25m 59s - 600.04 Mi
Run: 7h 25m - 38.84 Mi
Swim: 10h 12m - 24000 Yd
Strength: 1h 05m
Yoga: 3h 55m

Double the Workouts, Double the Fun

And what you can see from so far this year is that I really need to run more and do strength more consistently!
Basically, the swim is going to take care of itself, but I need to focus on getting slightly longer or more frequent runs and possibly 1 more ride a week.

Which means . . .

It's about the time of the plan . . . .

To get serious about

TWO-A-DAYS!

I don't normally worry much about two-a-days for a sprint, but with my focus turning to whatever IronMAJ 70.3 I end up creating, it will definitely need to come into play.

I always grumble about things that aren't terribly pleasant (long pool swims, two-a-days), but then when they WORK . . . .

Not so much grumbling occurs.

Plain and simple: hard work gets results.

The next order of business is creating The iMAJination 5k, to be held in April. I'm sure I'll tell you all about it, but I already have one participant lined up!

The Only Thing Standing Between You and Your Goal

2012-03-06T21:31:00.000-05:00

About 2 weeks ago I stole this picture from a friend on Facebook. (Supposedly, Jordan Belfort said it.) I don't expect the quotes that inspire me to have such an immediate use in my life, but this one meant something to me right away. Around the same time, I had a tough decision to make.

That decision was to quit racing for the rest of the year.

I raced – and romped, at non-race events – a LOT last year. This year, I have already accomplished a lot – a huge 5k PR, even tried my first bike races. I have made huge strides and shown a lot of promise.

I have been extremely fortunate.

The decision was super-hard. I just committed to training with a cycling team (they're super-casual, so there's that). And it's not like triathlon or marathon or cycling is something I do – it's who I am.

I AM a cyclist. I AM a runner. I AM a swimmer. I AM a triathlete.

Unfortunately, as much as I've tried to stop talking about it, I AM also a cancer patient. And it ain't cheap. It's just not possible to afford to race AND pay for my medical care AND put money away for a rainy day.

I'm not gonna lie – I threw a bit of a Bitch Fit (BF). (See yesterday's entry.) It seemed like a cruel paradox: the number one thing that got me out of bed and on with my life, even during my sickest, most hypo moment, was knowing that – if I just DID it – I could get stronger, faster, fitter enough to toe the line at another race, be even better than I was before the C-bomb, and maybe even win some bling.

So, about 20 minutes into said BF, I thought to myself, well, hell. I'm not going to stop training.

Then I thought to myself, WTF are you going to train for? People are going to think you're batshit crazy, training for imaginary races.

And that's when it hit me.

This is MAJsicle 2012 we're talking about here.

I'm not going to train for imaginary races. I'm going to train for iMAJinary races.

Which is far less crazy, right?

I say to The B, "I am still going to train for Race X, Y, Z and possibly F, even though I can't do them. I am going to run my own race series, find places to do them and make you come cheer for me when I cross the 'finish line.'" And, bless his heart, instead of saying, "You're batshit crazy," he says, "Or maybe a Fat Fairy will bring you a gift and you can do some of the real ones."

A Fat Fairy? Really?

So here is the plan for (drumroll please) The iMAJination Race Series. Our slogan will be The Only Thing Standing Between You and Your Dreams is a Little iMAJInation.(Ok, so the slogan needs work.)

March 18, 2012 - Tour de Mom 2012 (this one is already taken care of, and the money was raised for the American Diabetes Association, so I can't take credit for this one.)
May 20, 2012 - The Central Florida iMAJination Sprint Triathlon. This will be a sprint-distance triathlon somewhere in Central Florida with a cycling leg that is set up like a circuit race (5, 2.xx-mile loops)
Some time in summer, there will be a "Crit."
There will also be a 5k or 10k. Or both.
September 30, 2012 - IronMAJ 70.3. This will be a 70.3-distance race most likely with the swim leg in Lake Tuscawilla. But on the same day. Unlike IronMAJ 2011, which was a full Ironman but across three months.
The NYC or DC iMAJathon: on the date of one of those two races, in a location to be determined, I will design and run a full 26.2-mile course.

If the Fat Fairy comes, I'll do some real races, but otherwise, that's where the hard work comes in. I am going to have to set up courses, full-scale water and nutrition stops for myself and the whole 9.

I can still:

Swim 120,000+ yards (on my way!)
Ride 70 miles + per week (on my way!)
Run 10+ miles per week (this one needs some work)

Let's do this, Brutus.

Wide Open Spaces

2012-03-05T18:34:00.000-05:00

This weekend, we had a brush with some nasty weather. A storm system created a rash of tornadoes in Alabama and the Carolinas – not anywhere as devastating as last year’s around the University of Alabama, but still pretty bad. The system hit us late Saturday night and the Sunday morning rides were all postponed or cancelled. I took a recovery week and rode 25 miles at 3pm instead of 70 at 7am. The wind was awful - 15 to 25 miles per hour – but we made it happen.

I was talking with some friends from colder states who both reminded me that they’ve just now been able to put away some of their cold weather gear, and I realized how lucky I have it here in Florida. Maybe 2 or 3 days were really cold (30’s), but we rode in those. Maybe a few days a month we had really bad wind, but we rode in those. It never gets icy, or so cold that it’s unsafe to go out.

This lent me new perspective.

There are many times when things happen that get me down. It is easy to sit and wallow in self-pity and feel disgruntled, even though I've made good progress on the road back to being my old sunshiney, peppy self. A while back, I made a promise to bring myself back into the current moment whenever I felt this way, to try to ask myself if worrying or freaking out about something would really matter in 1, 5, or 10 years – or to remind myself to just be grateful and find something - anything at all - that was positive just by being in the current moment instead of trying to anticipate the next. For example:instead of feeling bummed about a windy day, I try to be happy that it’s not icy, or so cold it’s unsafe to go out.

1, 5, and 10 - my reminder at my home office

Basically, I try to not be a whiny, ungrateful bitch.

I will tell you this: I am not always successful. I still have days when I get “stuck,” I feel hopeless, I cry, I complain. And then I find someone to ~~slap the shit out of me~~ help me gain perspective on things. I got a reminder today that things in our life – “things,” like money and possessions – come and go, and they sometimes leave empty spaces.

And I kinda let myself act like a whiny, ungrateful bitch.

After a couple key individuals provided me with my requisite ~~bitchslap~~ perspective check, I thought about how lucky I still am, and how I could still make things work. I thought about how yoga is about creating space – space that you can then fill with better, more positive, more awesome things.

I've got some wide open spaces coming up. Instead of feeling empty, I'm going to fill them with AWESOME.

New adventures await. I can't wait to tell you about what's going on in my iMAJination. You see what I did there?

And with that, I give you The Week in Song Lyrics. I am not normally a country OR Dixie Chicks fan, but this one . . . just. FITS.

Wide Open Spaces - Dixie Chicks

She travelled this road as a child
Wide-eyed and grinning, she never tired
But now she won't be coming back with the rest
If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test

She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

Flashback Friday: 100% Girlie Girl

2012-03-02T12:54:00.000-05:00

I had to clean up the language in this one in a major way.

I'm 100% Girly Girl . . . But I'll Eat You for Lunch

Pedicured toes? Check. Manicured fingers? Check. Slightly edgy,well-maintained hair? Check. Makeup? Check. Chick magazine? Check.

Yes, my sailor-like tongue spews curse words at the speed of light. I can drink a 6'7" motherfr under the table. I like to talk about cars, I love golf, cycling, working out, and just plain getting dirty. I hold contempt for most things pink and I refuse to use cutesy grammar and punctuation in IMs; I also have a hard time connecting with other women. But I'm finally overcoming a lot of that; I'm finally learning that it's ok to be both a tomboy and a sissy. The ultrafeminine woman that was lurking beneath the shorts and t-shirts has finally emerged, and she's rocking those pedicured toes and a short skirt with some nice tanned legs. (Hey, guess what? The tan is fake. Skin cancer is soooo 1980.)

It may sound a bit superficial when put that way, but the psychology of it works something like this: every woman needs her femininity to be nurtured, and that means something different for all of us. Some of us need to be encouraged to put on some makeup every now and then; others need to be allowed to grow stronger relationships with other women. Others need to embrace their need to nurture and support others. For me, it was a combination of the first two along with the opposite of the second: I needed to encourage my inner girly girl, grow stronger relationships with other women, be able to pamper and take care of myself, to learn to have time for me and allow others to spoil me. And taking care of myself has been a long and tedious process: everything from using better skincare products to styling my hair differently to working out more to losing weight to taking time to relax to going to school full time to taking a job with less stress.

I don't mind crying or taking more than 6 minutes to do my hair now. It's all part of who I am. And I can promise one thing: soft as I my be, I'm never going to let anyone hold me down ever again.

Just 'cause I'm prettier doesn't mean I'm any less dangerous: if anything, I'm even more lethal than I was before. I'll still tell you to f off and die in heartbeat - other women still sneer at my manlike ability to belly up to a bar with the boys and talk about tits. You could still catch me at a strip club with the guys, and I still know how to belch like a champ. But I'm not going to kowtow to your purported masculinity and let you pretend you're smarter than me just to stroke your fragile ego. Be a man! Be confident - grow some nuts and learn not to depend on the opposite sex for your sense of worth. I had to do it - you should, too.

If you want a girl who you have to take to dinner and pay for her beauty treatments and completely support in exchange for housework, don't even come preaching at me. I don't give a shit what you give me - I'm not going to cook you dinner and I'm not going to do your dishes. I don't have to have a baby or baby a man to be a worthwhile, valid woman.

So, I may be prettier, but I'll still eat you for lunch.

September 2005

What the what?!?

2012-02-28T21:43:00.001-05:00

I rode 61 miles on Sunday. In the rain. On Thrill Hill. I rode this same course about 5 months ago when I was training for my first century and The IronMAJ. (Which, need I remind you, I won.) Anyway, on Sunday, I rode this sucker a mile per hour faster than I did 5 months ago.

A mile. PER HOUR.

What the what?!!?

Then I joined a cycling team. These guys are pretty casual, but they have no other female teammates. They're, well, fast. A good mile per hour faster than me.

A mile. PER HOUR.

What the WHAT?!?!

These *!&(#ers are gonna kill me.

Then Coach Julia told me, if I really want to make this month a swim focus, then I have to add a 4th swim a week or an extra 1000 to 1 or 2 of my swims. Except the swims on my plan are already, like, 2-3k. Which is already a heavy swim plan for a sprint. So I'm doing 3-4k swims now. And I'm doing my 100 pyramids at the END of my workouts, when I'm already tired, at my TOP END swim pace of all time.

What the WHAT>!>!>!>!>???

This *&^! is gonna kill me.

Then the B told me, if I win my sprint in May, he will buy me my first matching race kit so I match the dudes.

What the WHAT!!>!??????

This !$$h5@^! is gonna kill me.

Or maybe they won't kill me.

And you know what they say about what doesn't kill you . . . .

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SONG LYRICS OF THE WEEK. Which 3 different artists have a different take on.

What the WHAT>!>!?!??!

Stronger - Britney Spears
I'm
Stronger
Than I ever thought that I could be
I used to go with the flow
Didn't really care 'bout me . . .
And now I'm stronger than yesterday
Now it's nothin' but my way

Stronger - Kanye West
Now tha-that-that that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
Cause I can't wait much longer
I know I got to be right now
'Cause I can't get much wronger

Stronger - Kelly Clarkson
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller.......
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter

Flashback Friday: Remembering a Friend

2012-02-24T12:52:00.000-05:00

Re: Boston, Pictures, and Failure

I noticed today that pictures of people and places have a crucial element in common: neither places nor people can take a perfect photo every time they're photographed. There are so many different elements - lighting, position, time of day, mood of the cameraman or woman. If any of these or many of these is off, the finished product isn't terribly pleasing from an aesthetic viewpoint: I made a funny face. It was cloudy on Mount Cheaha. Now most people who see those pictures won't be terribly impressed.

A lot of pictures going through my mind. Boston, The Dragon, snow, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my wedding, covers of albums I've purchased, friends I met online and in person. People I've lost. Knowledge I've gained. I've spent a lot of time the past five years feeling like a failure. My decisions and my luck both haunt me. Why did I do this, why didn't this happen, why is it that I don't have what I really want despite my hard work, sincere effort, and my general decency as a person?

An e-mail the other day reminded me to find something good in all the disappointments I experience. I normally don't pay attention to those, but one of the remarks had to do with complaining about the high utility bill. Instead of bitching about the money it requires to pay it, be thankful that you have air conditioning because it also means you have a house. Etc.

I once wrote:"We are not what we win, but what we dare to play."

The recent passing of a friend has again reminded me of my luck to be able to continue playing. Rest in peace, Ed. The rest of us will keep playing for you.

November 2005

Hump Day Quickie

2012-02-22T20:14:00.001-05:00

. . . . Now that I have your attention.

This giant asshole is really picky
(and constantly hungry)

My Hump Day started out fantastically. One of the cats puked behind the sofa while I was getting ready for work and making breakfast cookies. It was green and very wet (the puke, not the sofa). Which makes no sense, because nothing they eat is green. (OR wet.) Then another one of them decided the litter box (freshly changed just a day or two ago) was too dirty for his pristine bottom, so he peed on my shower mat. Or maybe he was just pissed because I waited until 7:30 to feed him this morning. Fatty (as you can see here) is 15 pounds, and it is an absolute berserk-a-thon at breakfast and dinner time. Even though they're 7 and 7. The same. Exact. Time. Every. DAY.

So I am slammed beyond belief right now, but I wanted to give a couple quick updates on some things. I promised an update on Tour de MOM and the 60-Day Diet Challenge, for one. For another, it’s Ash Wednesday, which means it’s time for my annual giving-up-of-Facebook for Lent.

As you know, I’ve done two bike races now to prepare myself for both tri season, future bike racing, and the Tour de Mom. I’ve been going on weekly bike rides with my cycling friends, generally just having a blast. I have also been trying to focus more on my carbs, and between that and the endocrinologist updating my synthroid, I’ve lost the 3 holiday pounds I’ve gained.

Really, for me, the whole weight-loss game is all about momentum and consistency – as long as I’m moving and eating within reason – provided my synthroid isn’t out of whack – the pounds usually come off, because that activity or healthy meal sparks another and another. And I really don’t play mind games with myself about it anymore. As long as I’m healthy, I don’t sweat the pounds. I mean, I won't just go eat chili cheese fries every day and expect the workouts to take care of it, but I'm not even caring about getting close to my "ideal" weight, which is ridiculous (topic for another day).

I don’t know whether you’re Catholic, or if you’re like me and you grew up with some really traditional Protestant people (think Episcopalian/Lutheran), but I love traditions. So, since FB takes up a lot of my time, and since time's at a premium for me right now, I decided to take it off again for Lent this year.

I am sure you're going to read some interesting stuff about this year's hiatus, since this year most everyone I know communicates almost exclusively via FB and I am effectively cutting myself off from most of my training buddies (among other issues). I'll keep you posted.

Anyway, that's all I have time for. HAPPY HUMP DAY!

Read this. Do it NOW.

2012-02-21T11:45:00.001-05:00

Today is Kristin McQueen’s birthday. She turns 33.

This year, I turn 33.

Kristin does marathons.

I do marathons.

Kristin does Ironman.

Well, I’ve trained for Ironman. (LOL)

Here’s the part where the similarities become REALLY weird: Kristin has thyroid cancer. JUST LIKE ME.

Just like me, Kristin has faced many issues outside her thyroid cancer. She’s even had like 7 or 8 surgeries now. But she has raised over $100,000 for the American Cancer Society.

She is my HERO.

And she is one of the few people I know who is one of us crazy athletic people AND a survivor of the same kind of cancer as me. I read this and felt 1)a little less alone in the world and 2)completely inspired. If she’s had multiple brain surgeries and still did Ironman, I don’t think anyone can say they have an excuse.

More than that, her story exemplifies a problem faced by many cancer patients. As it says at http://www.giveforward.com/mcqueen: “When your salary makes you ineligible for financial assistance programs, but you don't get to work to actually take home your salary… what do you do?”

Set up that website, said her friends.

I will be helping.

She. Is. Amazing.

http://determinators.org/2012/02/kristin-mcqueen-cancer-fundraiser/

The 2012 Lake Mary Crit Race Report

2012-02-19T19:55:00.001-05:00

Today, ladies and gentlemen, I faced The Murdolater. And, while I did get murdolated, and I did get dropped from the pack, I finished the race and accrued my very first (measly) points towards moving up to a faster category. (No time soon, for the record.)

It was the hardest (but most fun) thing I think I've ever done.

I keep thinking back to my very first triathlon, the Subaru Women's Tri in St. Pete in 2007. It was a super sprint. I had been very ill - this was before my various health issues were sorted out - and I hadn't trained well. But I had done the best I could (in retrospect, I am impressed I even did it). I was 14/18 in my age group. I was 73/100-something women. I was dead last in my age group on the run.

And, despite the well wishes of my friends and my little finisher's medal, I was totally dissapointed in myself.

Today I finished dead last in my group. I mean, dead. LAST. And there were no prizes. No medals. No rewards. But, unlike my first tri, it was one of the best experiences of my life. The cornering, pushing myself outside my comfort zone, all of it. It was incredible.

I think some of this is because I know how far I've come.
My observations (in no particular order):

I think I'm more a cyclist than any of the other sports, but I sill have a long way to go. I have a few more years, realistically, before I can be truly competitive.
At the risk of repeating myself: cyclists go hard. They're just a whole new level of athlete. Triathletes are a different breed, and most triathlons contain an element of "holding back" or conserving energy. Cycling (for me) doesn't.
While they do go hard, and there isn't a spirit of camraderie from the gun like there is in triathlon, there is a certain level of camraderie that develops when you've all pushed yourseleves. The leading ladies told me good job for gutting it out, and the #2 women's finisher (who was number 1 previously) came up to congratulate me on a good race! (FYI: I have NEVER had this happen in any of the triathlons or marathons where I finished last.)

I am hooked!!!

And, while I am hooked, there's only so much cash to go around, so I think I will not be racing again for a little while. I have been, as you probably remember, feeling very stressed and unfocused lately, and now I feel ready to start again. This was just such a perfect day - and I learned so much about myself - that I have a great baseline around which to form the next few months of training.

When you hear the expression "he/she has a long way to go," it has such a negative connotation. In this case, I mean it in quite the opposite spirit - I am excited and motivated by how far I have to go. I know how much fun the journey has been coming from where I've been, and I know what great things lie ahead if I am positive and consistent. More than that, I know if I have gotten here from where I started, that I can DEFINITELY get where I need to go, because that's closer than ever before.

(Ok, and maybe I'm extra happy because I have tomorrow off. I NEVER get off holidays outside of Christmas. Here's some Presidents for ya. We are celebrating the day off, the race, and just life in general with a dinner and some at-home fireworks. Enjoy your week and the Song Lyrics for Week Ending 2/19)

Song Lyrics of the Week:

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride my bike

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride it where I like

....

Bicycle races are coming to town, so forget all your worries and cares....

On your mark

Get set

GO!

-Bicycle Race, Queen

(PS - I haven't forgotten about Tour de Cure or the 60-Day Challenge. I'll fill you in on that soon!)

The Murdolater

2012-02-18T22:18:00.001-05:00

Bender's a Genius!

I'm a big Futurama fan. Futurama is an animated series about a kid from the past (Fry) that gets cryogenically frozen and ends up working as an intergalactic delivery.boy in the future for his own nephew (Professor Farnsworth), a brilliant, eccentric, and - thanks to his advanced age - somewhat senile scientist. His pals include Leela, a purple-maned feisty feminista who is also a cyclops and for whom Fry harbors romantic feelings; and Bender, a larcenous, cigar-smoking, womanizing, self-aggrandizing robot who runs on alcohol.

(Side note. Whenever Bender comes up with a good idea, he is the first to announce: "Bender's a genius!" So, whenever I am guilty of my own horn-tooting, The B will look at me and crow, "Bender's a genius!")

Anyway, in one episode they find out that the Professor has some horrible disease he doesn't want to live with. He spends the episode trying to get them to kill him, but no one will, so he tries to set up accidents to accomplish his goal, which also doesn't fool anyone. In the end, they feel sorry for him and construct a Doomsday Device to help him end his life. They lie him in the center; it's one of those contraptions where one motion trips another then another then another and finally something dramatic happens, like an axe falling on his chest. (In case you are worried about the Professor, they find out he doesn't have the disease he thinks he has, so he no longer wants to die, by the way.)

Anyway. They call this contraption The Murdolator. And that's what I call bike races. Because they really are that hard.

I say this with love. I mean, I'm branching out here and stretching outside my comfort zone and I love it, and I love the challenge, and I'd like to not suck at it someday. But in the meantime, I just don't want to get murdolated.

Tomorrow is the day. My first criterium race. I decided to do it because it is the least technical and thus more newbie-friendly and safe.

And I know I won't place, and I'll be lucky to finish. So all I hope is that I don't get murdolated.

Wish me luck.

Flashback Friday: A Collection From Old Blogs

2012-02-17T12:47:00.000-05:00

Two Meggans, constantly at war with one another

A wise man once told me that there are two different Meggans co-existing in my body and they're constantly conflicting: polite, shy, conservative Meggan and naughty, bold, wild Meggan.

Polite, shy, conservative Meggan tucks her napkin neatly when she's eating and accepts compliments graciously. She doesn't know when someone's flirting with her, and keeps her responses to scandalous questions respectable and mysterious. She takes care when grooming and dressing, she watches out for everyone around her. She maintains a meticulous study and training schedule so that she can get good times on races and good grades on papers. She's a voter, a writer, a neatnik and a planet-lover. She's been called emo. She needs, loves and adores her friends.

Then there's bold, naughty, wild Meggan. She is frequently inappropriate and obnoxious. She capitalizes on her looks, blurts out her thoughts even when not a little tipsy, and watches out for herself at the expense of everyone else. She's been called cold and logical - multiple times - and she's most likely to be caught swilling vodka at a concert, wearing a short skirt and high heels, and riding a motorcycle. She can outdrink, outcuss, and outflirt anyone - and she's no tafraid to talk cars or shoot guns. She'd gladly turn in a paper late if it allows her more time to sleep or see friends. She is painfully independent.

I don't see why both Meggans can't coexist peacefully. The entire human race struggles with a dichotomous spirit: we want so badly to be everything we'resupposed to be, but it doesn't always happen. The real Meggan is a fair combination of Meggan 1 and Meggan 2. I can't not have a few too many drinks every now and then, just as I can't go more than a few days without a run or abike ride. The secret is finding the balance.

Perhaps that's why it's difficult for me to believe that the ideal mate forme could ever exist. Would he fall in love with wild Meggan and then be dissapointed when simple, sweet Meggan wanted to stay in, do laundry and homework on a Saturday night? Or would he adore schoolteacher Meggan in her conservative sweater and glasses, but be petrified by the self-assured swagger of bold Meggan in her short skirt? Neither would work - nourish one Meggan and reject the other at the expense of the whole.

Or maybe I just haven't fallen in love with the whole Meggan myself.

So here I am, pounding down the pavement well before daylight, relishing the solitude and determination, all the while feeling the familiar pang of uncertainty and the churning of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Maybe if I just clear my mind, the answer will eventually appear.

-circa 2005/6

Kiss My Asana

2012-02-15T20:16:00.002-05:00

Do you remember The Facebook Experiment?

Recap: last year I gave up FB for Lent, or the Greater Good, or in the interest of restraint, or whatever you believe. I stepped back from what everyone else was doing or talking about doing and just got busy living my own life. I didn't even post blog updates to my personal FB (this was before I had a fan page where I could separate MAJ life from Elephant life.) Then I came back after several weeks and reconnected with everyone.

It was really nice.

I am saying this in advance: I will do it again this year. I'm getting to the point where I'm feeling over-connected, over-exposed, and - well - a bit frazzled.

So, now that you're warned. :-)

Today was just about the perfect day in MAJ's world. This morning I rode an amazing 40-something miles, including covering the course of the crit I'll probably do Sunday, at the highest pace I've maintained yet in a group (at least for 28 of it), then came home and worked on grades.   I even got most of my grades DONE. Then, when my brain got full of grades, I went to hot yoga. Nothing like 90 minutes of ass-kicking strength/stretch work in a 90-degree room.

While lying in shivasana, I found myself praying that I could bring that sense of peace to my work day, to my exam for my students tomorrow night, to my relationship. And I also realized something really super excellent: I have finally gotten to the point of my life where fitness has become such a habit, like breathing or showering or brushing my teeth - such a routine - that I crave it and look forward to it. I look forward to the challenege, the pain, the sweat, or just the feeling of the wind on my face. Sometimes I'm tired and I take a rest day, or just go easy.

But I never, ever find myself going oh, God, I don't want to work out today.

It's more like, let me do whatever I can, because it will make me feel better.

I also realized this: the reason I love to swim, bike, om, and run - and it's the same reason  I don't do zumba, or step class, or the ellpitical, or boot camp, or body pump, or even the acclaimed CrossFit - they just don't put me in touch with something else in the universe the way yoga practice or being outdoors always does. I've done variations of them all, but none of them help me feel connected to something greater than myself.

Swimming does - it's the sound of the splash, the briskness of the water when it's cool, the liquid bathing me. Running does - it's the rustle in leaves, the feeling of my arms moving and feet soundly contacting with the ground. Riding does - it's the woosh of the air going by me, that harmonious hum of tires on pavement, the feeling of my cleats sliding firmly into my pedals. And yoga? Sometimes yoga even forces me to dig down deep - or even get outside of myself, of the clanging constantly going on in my head - and face my not-so-pretty parts.

Good days, bad days - it doesn't matter.  These all make me feel alive and energized and happy, and I feel more completely like myself than in many other places in my life. I couldn't ever JUST run, JUST ride, or JUST swim, or JUST practice yoga. I love them all.

It is no longer about how many pounds I can lose or sizes I can drop. It isn't about how my biceps look, and sometimes it isn't even about the times I post. I've almost reduced my attachment to that, too. Yep, I still have goals I want to make, but I know if I just keep working, I'll reach them. (Example: I did that first road race weeks ago and I didn't even look at the results until today.) Sure, I have days where I hate photos of myself, or just feel chunky. But now, I don't worry about those things as much as I worry about getting strong - and stronger - and feeling myself open up and connect to the people, places, and just the world in general that my favorite sports help me reach.

I know some people still look at me and think, there's no way she works out as much as she does. Or: she must not be eating right. I no longer mind being the person people underestimate. Not everyone has to get it, or agree with me, because I respect whatever makes them feel whole, too. I'm just going to keep doing what I love. Keep swimming, keep cycling, keep running, keep practicing yoga when I can, and keep trying to be as nice as I can be to people around me. And anyone who doesn't like it can kiss my asana.

A Cold-Ass . . .well . . . Ass

2012-02-13T20:30:00.000-05:00

The Week in Song Lyrics could really be anything like:

Cold as Ice
You're as cold as ice
You're willing to sacrifice our love

Ice Ice Baby
Ice ice baby
Too cold

Fire and Ice
Fire and ice
You come on like a flame, then you turn a cold shoulder

You get the picture.

Sunday we rode when it was 33 out, which is not so cold for you Northerners, but it's Damn Cold to Floridians, and even colder once you start riding and the wind chill makes it like 13. I got home and jumped in the hot bathtub and Blake told me all the purple welts all over me made it looked like I had been caned.

So, I started my week with yoga and my research proposal getting aproved, then I got rejected to another PhD program and froze my ass. That's how I ended my week.

How was yours?

Happiness Really is a Choice

2012-02-11T21:23:00.000-05:00

A big topic of discussion the past few weeks has been the relationship between happiness and stress. As you probably remember if you had an Intro to Psych or Social Psych class, any life event causes stress, even if it's not a negative event. Moving, weddings, grad school, promotions - these are related to a kind of good stress called eustress - and the negative stuff (death, taxes, failure, divorce) is called distress.

There is a lot of uncertainty and distress in the world right now. Many nations are in economic turmoil; even people who never had to make difficult financial decisions just 3 or 4 years ago are now forced to sell prized possessions, declare bankruptcy, fork over their homes at massive losses, or even lose them to foreclosure. Everyone is learning how to get by with less. So, now more than ever, the person sitting next to you right now could be going through some kind of distress.

Which automatically means that person is unhappier, right?

I know many positive, open-minded people who have overcome great difficulties or are saddled with great burdens. Some them have dealt with cancer, physical or mental abuse, financial ruin, job loss, death, crime, homelessness - the worst things most of us can imagine. Yet many of those people are still happy. And, most of the time, you would never know what they were battling.

It's not because they have more money, or better friends, or are more successful. It's because, as a wise friend of mine said just the other day, happiness is a choice. It isn't because people have less to handle that they're happier; it's because they know how to handle what they have.

I didn't used to believe this was possible, or even true. At one point my constant load of distress and eustress rendered me perennially bitter. (This wasn't even my natural tendency; I called myself a reformed optimist.) Here's how the descent began: after almost 30 years of relative ease, I faced a few large disasters, some of them from the list above. I had always been somewhat sheltered; protected. The series of hardships were unlike anything I'd ever had to handle.

So I handled it poorly.

From then on, every time something happened to me, I subconsciously added it to the mental "list." The list sounded like this in my head: This (insert bad thing here) happened - oh! and THIS happened - OMG! and yesterday THAT happened, TOO! After a few months of this, no matter what the next "thing" was - from the tiniest (a thread pulled on my jacket) to the greatest (my dog broke his leg in the middle of a hurricane) - it began to feel like proof that nothing but bad ever happened to me anymore. I would often think or say, only me. This kind of shit would only happen to me. Or sometimes, I would say or think just my luck! or, If one more bad thing happens, I am going to freaking flip out!!!

The downward spiral continued - once that habit was developed, then I even became resistant to new solutions to my problems because my immediate response (or close to it) would be: if it isn't going to instantly fix something or fix everything, why bother?

People would tell me be more positive - and that's great advice - but for me, it was bullshit from the mouths of people who had it way better, easier. I spent my time waiting - for the next disaster, to exhale, who knows. It just pissed me off even more. I would tell them, I'm not bitter. I'm just stressed because I have so much to deal with.

The truth? I had so much to deal with because I was bitter.

And then things began to get better. But things didn't get better because I had more money or better friends or became a faster athlete; as a matter of fact, I lost a few friends, I was forced into a lower-paying job, and I spent a year or more getting slower, or not racing at all. No, things got better because I took a few steps toward fixing them, and even though my few steps didn't fix everything, and they didn't fix things quickly, they got me headed in the right direction.

More recently, I was in a situation where I had to give up a lot of my personal belongings. I had to get rid of clothing, furniture, and keepsakes that had been part of my life for years. But, instead of coming out of the experience feeling bare, robbed, broke, or sad - I felt free. There is something freeing about learning to live with less. I ride a 5-year-old bargain bike and buy used accessories and gear; I bargain hunt and cut coupons when I grocery shop. I still occasionally get jealous of the fancy stuff, but I usually feel grateful to have anything at all.

My friend is right; happiness is a choice. I'm not telling you this because it sounds nice or because I have it so easy that I can say it; I'm telling you this because I've been on both sides of the equation.

I don't think I have to tell you which side I chose.

Flashback Friday: A Collection From Old Blogs

2012-02-10T12:46:00.000-05:00

Thursday, March 15, 2007
I thought this one was funny because it really does contain an important lesson or two. In this dream, I won my first triathlon, but I did everything the wrong way. Towards the end, someone in the dream tells me, "think of what you could have actually accomplished if you actually gave a shit."

The message in the dream was #1. Take ownership. Don't blame anyone else for your own choices. and #2. always give it your best.

Triathlon dream, or triathlon nightmare?

I've been having the craziest dreams the past few weeks. The award for lasting impression, though, goes to my triathlon dream (or nightmare?)

To be honest, I wasn't terribly worried about next week's event until after this dream – after all, the swim is only about 400 meters, the bike ride about 6 miles and the run 1.5. (To put that in perspective, I swam 1200 meters Monday, rode 8 miles Sunday night and ran 2 miles on Saturday.) But this was the kind of dream that, days later, is still so vivid in your memory that you're inspired to do crazy things like get out of bed in the middle of the night to rent your wetsuit and count the money you need to scrape together for last minute stuff. In the dream, I spent all my time narrowly escaping from disaster that threatened to prevent my competition in the Subaru Women's Triathlon.

A flashback to the Mercedes Marathon? Maybe.

In my dream, it was tri weekend, and Friday night I ended up working really late, which hasn't happened in ages. I was so slammed that it wasn't until the end of the night that I remembered the tri festivities started the next day. I wondered, do I need to call my parents to remind them to meet me there with my bike and someof my other gear in the morning?, but I figured they didn't need a reminder call about something so important, so I put it out of my mind and ran home, deciding to drive to Tampa and check into a hotel room that night instead of the next day.

Side note: I have NO IDEA why my parents were there. This early in 2007 they hadn't made it to a race yet.

When I got there, the hotel room was indescribably tiny. It was stuffed in a corner between 3 other rooms; the door was virtually hidden by the corners and doors of other rooms; it was shut off on one part by only curtains; there was a community bathroom. I kept worrying that Arnie was going to get out. (Side note: why would I bring him? And, if him, why not Girlie, too? Dreams are so stupid.) Well, the bizarreness didn't end there. Saturday rolled around, and no parents. Wubsy, Rocco Mediate, and some other famous golfers were there, begging me to hang out on the putting and chipping green at the resort, acting like the tri was no big deal and I had all the time in the world to play golf. It was close to 8 a.m., and I was starting to fear that I would miss the important announcements. Sure enough, by the time I got to the gathering area, the announcements and body marking were both over. I panicked until I found out that the front desk people at the hotel could mark me, then panicked again when they told me I had to have my race number for them to mark my body. So I guessed, since the practice swim was starting, and I was about to miss it.

I was running towards the shore when I looked to the far horizon to see a ginormous wave, unlike anything I'd ever seen, rolling towards us. It seemed to be far away, but this wave was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen. Thoseof us who recognized this as a 'rogue wave' reversed our courses, heading forthe hotel, scrambling to the highest balconies. The wave hit the resort,though, (oddly enough, everyone called it a 'freelance wave'), destroying some property and wiping out a large number of guests and participants. A few smaller but still gigantic waves followed, and a young kid whose brother was killed befriended me on one of the balconies.

Despite the devastation, USAT decided to hold the event anyway, so after the rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning up and regrouping the tri got off to a hurried start the next morning. I almost missed the race start, but with my made-up number, I won the women's swim and was 3rd overall thanks to the help of that little kid, who continually pushed me along in the water. I kept insisting we were cheating, and he kept insisting we were not, pointing over to some other swimmers who were doing the same. I can't begin to express the elation I felt at being able to speed along in the water ahead of so many others. But when I hit the shore, I had a horrifying realization: my parents had never arrived, and thus I had neither my shoes nor bike. So I did what any intelligent and determined individual would do: I decided to do it all barefoot.

I plowed out of the water into the sand at top speed, my eyes scanning thelot of parked bikes in transition. Almost immediately, I spotted mine, and for a moment, I was actually convinced that my parents had come through – but they hadn't. The bike was just a lookalike. Then I spotted my bike and jumped on, skidding out of the lot. Somehow, though, it was clear in my mind by the first kilometer that this bike wasn't mine, either – but I kept riding it. There's no way I was stopping now. Despite a wrong turn that took me through a restaurant, I won the women's cycle and came in 10th overall. Finally, the run, along the beach. A few more wrong turns, but I ended back up at the finish, on a boardwalk near another restaurant.

Sitting at the bar was K., having a beer. To my surprise, the scoring and timing official standing mere feet away announced that K was about tobe the women's winner and in the overall top 10 for the race. I didn't even ask her how she beat me – I just panted, "Get up there! You're going towin!"

Her response stopped me dead in my tracks: "No, I wanna finish my beer while it's nice and cold."

"Listen, sister," I told her, "If you win, there are about 27 people who will each buy you two, colder beers!!"

But she shrugged and made no attempt to extricate herself from the barstool.

"Fine, I'm going to win, then!" I warned her, and she gave me a thumbs up. With awe, I triumphantly crossed the line and listened to the announcement of my victory. Barefoot, with little training, the wrong bike, and a late entry, I had still managed to beat all the other women and most of the men. An amazing feat. Other ladies trickled in until the top 5 were standing at the boardwalk, congratulating each other.

Then the kicker.

Up walks my favorite but toughest boss, with both the bikes I had mistaken for mine in his possession. In front of everyone, he barked, "I can't fucking believe you!" I turned to him, incredulous, and his cell phone rang. "No, I can't talk right now," he told the caller, "I'm busy setting her straight. Can you BELIEVE what she did?!!" With an angry SNAP, he shut his phone and turned back to me.

"What are you talking about?" I hissed.

"You know what I'm talking about! This isn't your bike, is it?" He jerked the bike I had ridden to victory toward me.

"No," I replied vehemently. "Then THIS is your bike,"he continued, gesturing with the other bike that looked like mine.

"No, it's not," I protested, voice raising.

This only seemed to make him angrier. "Yes, it is!" he insisted.

"No, it's not!" I shouted this time, pointing at the North Carolina license plate dangling from the rear. "You know good and well I'm not from North Carolina!"

The glint in his eyes instantly explained it: he knew neither of these bikes was mine, yet he continued with his tirade, determined to make me admit it."Well then you need to tell me what the HELL is going on, because you rode to victory on *this* (another violent gesture with the first) bike, and I know for sure it isn't yours."

I blew up, pulling out my own cell phone. "I'm calling my parents RIGHT NOW!" I roared. "They were supposed to bring my stuff and they DIDN'T. I am SO PISSED at them right now!!!!!"

He snatched my phone away from me. "No you're not," he snapped."YOUR equipment, YOUR fault. I don't care if they WERE supposed to bring it. Who's responsibility was it ultimately? YOURS. You could have brought it yourself if it meant so much. You know, I am REALLY disappointed in you. You half-assed your training, you heaped your responsibilities on someone else and then blamed them for your lack of ownership, you used someone else's bike, you survived the freelance wave, and you still would have won. Imagine – just for a minute – IMAGINE what you could have accomplished if you had actually given a shit!"

At this point, the entire crowd was silent and the rules official had pretty much dq'ed me, so I just admitted that neither of the bikes is mine. "He'sright," I told the official. "Neither bike is mine and the owners are stuck without bikes because of me."

And at that point, it was over. I was entirely defeated and disqualified. I couldn't even muster tears as the rules official congratulated the previous #2 on her assumption of women's #1.

Meanwhile, K sat by, nothing to prove, still drinking her beer and totally uninterested in being declared the TRUE winner. And the boss regarded me, for once, completely silently.

"I can't believe I won the race, then lost it, both because of a technicality," I almost whispered.

He patted me on the shoulder as we turned from the crowd and began to walk away with the two "borrowed" bikes. "Come on kid," he said,actually sounding proud this time. "Let's go get a beer."

K waved me over to her spot by the bar, and that's when I woke up.

Sometimes, Life Takes You Places

2012-02-09T09:09:00.000-05:00

There is no nice way to say this: this morning's run blew chunks. I was really pooped. I don't know if it was a thy-low or I'm tired from two weeks of racing capped off by an AWESOME group ride yesterday (despite the wind we still averaged almost 20mph - front group 20, back group 19.5-19.8).

Either way, it sucked.

When I'm tired I usually push through it. I tell myself if I really, truly feel bad I'll do one mile and come home. Sometimes that's one mile total; sometimes that's one mile out and back. (Today it was the latter.) I've mentioned the summer I had my surgery ad nauseum - you know, the one where I just got up one morning and said, "no matter what I do I'm still going to feel bad, so I may as well train." Well, my friend Becky put it even better today: "Even on a bad run day I feel good to have gotten out of bed." I'm still exchausted, but I'm exhausted with 2 more miles in the bank.

There's a lot of my life that's in flux right now. Depending on where I get into school, I may end up where I am or another part of town, or another state. I didn't go through this for undergrad - I went to a hometown college while I worked full-time. So this is a new experience for me.

Life takes us a lot of places. Some of them we expect; some of them we don't. Another great point Becky got me thinking about was that, sometimes training (like life) is not so much about the destination as it is the journey.

This is the group from yesterday's ride. I love these guys. I hope if I have to move I find cycling buddies I like this much.

On Milestones and Toothpaste

2012-02-06T21:46:00.000-05:00

To say that this was one of the biggest weeks of my life would be an understatement. It was a week of goals and milestones; nothing dull or ordinary about it. Some of them were excellent; some of them were depressing.

None of them were insignificant.

On Monday, I was still flying high from my first road race. On Wednesday, I got my first PhD rejection letter. Unfortunately, it was from the school I really wanted to attend. There are lots of things I could say to sugar-coat my disappointment. As anyone who has ever applied to a competitive program (grad OR undergrad) will tell you, it isn’t about the school YOU pick as much as it is the school that wants YOU. I have been working a full time job plus 1-2 teaching assistantships plus 1-2 research projects every single term for two years, and knowing that I didn’t get recommended for the school I’ve worked so hard with was a bitter pill to swallow. I can’t say there weren’t tears. But, within an hour of the news, despite my tummy still aching, I was moving on to plans B, C and D (yes, I have that many).

On Thursday, I had my regular 3-month visit with the endocrinologist. My TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) levels are up, which is usually not good, but my thyroglobulin and antibodies are down, which is very good. This means I don’t need a full body scan with the thyrogen shot and the fasting and the whole nine yards – just an ultrasound. So my medicine got adjusted once more, and I go back (as always) in 3 months, and then schedule the ultrasound from there. Couple more years to remission.

Saturday was my first 5k since 2009, and I was originally supposed to run with a friend, but she was unable to race as planned. The race was my baseline for the season; I wanted to see how much faster I’ve gotten since my last 5k. The answer was – despite all the craziness of the week, the stomachache, last week’s tough times, and racing two weeks in a row – a LOT.

Previous 5k PR in 2009 - 31:47
Training 5k PR this year – 29:xx
Super-Lofty Goal Time: 25-28
Saturday’s Result – 28:34

Don't get offended; I'm not promoting cigarette
use. This pic was just funny.

For the record: 5ks hurt. Like a bitch. I still believe 5ks are harder than marathons. Marathons don't make you see blurry-eyed and nauseous, and they don't hurt as bad. Also for the record: my 61.7-mile training ride for The Tour de Mom did not hurt the next day as I suspected it might.

File this under: you've come a long way, baby.

Today I got an e-mail with my official results recap. I was 27 out if 196 in my age group; 259 out of 1837 total runners; the highest I’ve ever placed in a non-tri race. It was only then that I realized something: even though I am still not what you can really call “fast,” I have finally succeeded in moving myself from the bottom 15-20% of the pack to the top 15-20%. I have also succeeded in regularly maintaining a single-digit per-mile pace in short races. These were two of my three biggest goals.

6 years ago, when I started this racing nonsense, if you had told me I would do this all while (happily) working what amounts to 3 jobs and fighting cancer, I would have slapped the shit out of you for being such a liar.

The accomplishment embodied the dichotomous spirit of the week: on one hand, it’s time to celebrate. On another, you can’t stop thinking what next?

One of my tri coaches says that making progress in the sport is like a tube of toothpaste. When you first buy the tube, you can squeeze anywhere and get something out. But, once you've been doing it for a while, you have to start rolling the tube up and squeezing it from the bottom just to get a little out.

Well, my toothpaste tube us starting to get rolled up, so what’s next is a big enough topic to fill a post of its own. For now – we will celebrate. But, just like my moment of anger on Wednesday, the celebration won’t last for too long. Because whether something is good or bad, a milestone always has two basic steps: first you celebrate, or mourn, or whatever the case may be - then you dig in.

And once you dig in, you get The Week in Song Lyrics.

(Like you didn't see that coming.)

The Week in Song Lyrics: Dig In (Lenny Kravitz)

It's time to face it
Come on in and join the party
Life has been waiting for you to care
Don't try to fake it, jump on in and get it started
There's so much lovin' for you to share

There is nowhere to run
There is no way to hide
Don't let it beat you
Say "Nice to meet you" and "Bye"

Once you dig in
You'll find it coming out the other side
And once you dig in
You'll find you'll have yourself a good time

Wake up and shake it
You didn't make your contribution
There ain't no time for you to spare
If you ain't part of the game
Then how can you find a solution?
Nobody said that it would be fair

When the mountain is high
Just look up to the sky
Ask God to teach you
Then persevere with a smile

And once you dig in . . .

Flashback Saturday: DLS>DNF>DNS

2012-02-04T12:34:00.000-05:00

I thought this blurb from Thursday, April 26, 2007 was appropriate because it is the first time I realized that there was glory in just crossing a finish line as opposed to PR'ing or winning something.

DLS>DNF>DNS

Sports psychology - it's everywhere. Everyone thinks they're a shrink, and everyone into sports thinks they're a sports shrink. Every day you'll see these cheeky little phrases that people love to use to pump themseleves up. You know which ones I'm talking about: pain is weakness leaving the body. Runners get more done before 6am than most people do all day. If you can think it, you can do it. Be the ball. Etc.

I was running Disney's Race for the Taste 10k, my first 10k, in October 2006. I remember it very clearly because one of my co-workers, who racewalks, walked with me during the first couple miles while I was warming up. Toward the end of the race, around mile 4, I started to blow past everyone. It was my perfect "second half" - I had very few fatigued spots - I just keep soaring right on by.

At everyr ace, there are a group of women who plan matching outfits and run together. They often wear their race shirts from previous all-women's races, and even though there's nothing wrong with all-women's races, I always considered them more a place to bond than actually race. And I couldn't help but smirk at the some of the other shirts I saw, especially those sporting this equation:

DLS>DNF>DNS

Those of you who have ever done any kind of race, (foot, auto, cycling or otherwise), know what these acronyms mean, but in case you were a non-racer, or someone who just didn't get it, here's what it means. Underneath this catchy little blurb were the following words: A Dead Last Finis (DLS)h is greater than a Did Not Finish (DNF), which is greater than a Did Not Start (DNS).

Great. Another dopey sports psychology mantra. I had a good chuckle, I'll tell you that, as I sailed past them. Mean as it sounds, I thought, if you need that slogan to pump you up, you're obviously not as tough as you think!

But now, after my recent DNF at the TriAmerica triathlon and a DNS at the OA Corporate 5k, I'm starting to wonder if I was the dope. The spirit suggested by that hokey equation is probably the spirit I should have had all along. I have finally learned that finishing is the more important part. A runner with the ORC told me one night, Pain is temporary, but a finish lasts forever.

Tell me about it. So does a did not finish.

The Week in Song Lyrics, Part II

2012-01-30T17:43:00.001-05:00

So, how is your 60-Day Diet Challenge going? Are you finding that you were eating sugar in places you didn’t even realize? Have you found any good substitutions, or have you learned to cut back the amounts you were using or didn’t realize you were using? Have you tried any whole grains or new veggies or fruits? Are you getting plenty of lean protein? (Remember, these were the suggestions given by the ADA.)

You know by now that I’ve always struggled to look like a “real” athlete. I’m not saying I don’t pig out or drink wine sometimes, ‘cause I think that’s necessary, too (in moderation), but I do focus on whatever I can do to make a difference in my eating and activity level. The question “how would I change my diet and lifestyle if I were diabetic?” helps me focus on using food as fuel much like training and racing does. For example, I know that I crash I don’t eat small combinations of protein and either veggies, fruit, or a “good” carb every 2-4 hours. I can look back on the days where I really crashed hard and see that I wasn’t eating small snacks or meals regularly enough. Everyone’s body is different.

Some of my crashes are emotional/mental, too, though. Last week was a very hard week with all I had to wade through (see: World’s Shortest Race Report). Today I had my share of frustrations, but I woke up feeling refreshed and not nearly as stressed, knowing I had it all behind me. The past few weeks were really tough, but that race yesterday really lifted my spirits.

As training and racing usually seem to do.

A new week is ahead of me . . . a new month is ahead of me . . . and a new season of a new sport with which I am completely in love.

And then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, it happened.

I started singing Barry Manilow.

And now you will be, too.

I Made It Through the Rain

I kept my world protected

I made it through the rain

And kept my point of view

I made it through the rain

And found myself respected

By the others who

Got rained on, too

And made it through

World's Shortest Race Report

2012-01-29T19:59:00.001-05:00

First road race in the books!!!! Harder in some ways than I expected; easier in others. Never even got ON the pack to get shaken; had to do the whole thing alone. STILL, this was my fastest solo ride WITHOUT the luxury of aerobars and only 1 mph slower than my fastest ride EVER of this distance.

Interesting lessons learned:

A lot of recreational riders ride Trek, but a LOT of the racers ride Specialized.
Need more bikes! Wish I had a bike for road races and crits, and another one just for time trials and triathlons.
Biggest rule of bike racing isn't STAY with pack, it's GET WITH PACK FROM THE BEGINNING! When the start goes off, they GO LIKE BATS OUT OF HELL.
Going to do a few road races before I attempt ANY crit.

Finally, BIGGEST lesson learned:

Cyclists go hard.
Harder than marathoners.
Harder than triathletes.

I want to be a cyclist when I grow up.

Next week I have a 5k. My goal is to go like a cyclist.

More to follow later in the week, I am SURE.

Week in Song Lyrics is a Repeat: Breathe Caroline's I'm Only Getting Started

Caught up and I can't feel my hands

No need to chase
Can you relate?
Can you keep up the pace like you're dying for this?.....
I'm only getting started
I won't blackout
(This time I've got nothing to waste)
Let's go a little harder
(I'm on fire)
I won't blackout
I'm on my way
I'm only getting started

2012 DeLand Spring Fling of Cycling Road Race: Pre-Race Report

2012-01-28T21:03:00.001-05:00

Here I am, on the eve of my very first cycling race. I am prepared as I will ever be; I even took the aerobars off Ruby so she will look like a real road bike and not a tri-bike.

I have little idea of what to expect tomorrow, but I do know that I am going into this with rested legs and MORE endurance than I need, and a good tolerance for racing in the red (Remember, I'm Only Getting Started, Go Hard or Go Home, and Pain Cave?) My coach(es) (yes, I annoyed the hell out of my friend who has raced P1/2 for tips) told me specifically not to get too feisty with the attacking.

Road racing is different than anything I've ever done before. You don't have to get up at ass'o'clock, for one thing: you don't even race until 8:30am, and that's only if you're racing Pro 1/2 and you're a man. Us Cat 3/4 ladies go at 11:30 and the Pro 1/2 ladies and Cat 4 men go out around 1. (Tell me THAT isn't awesome). Race fees are a good bit cheaper. You get to draft. You only do one sport. The races are considerably shorter (1-2 hours in most cases until you start getting Pro.)

Road races are definitely not as popular as the other stuff I've done; I hardly know anyone doing this race, and many of the people I know doing it are way more experienced and even race on legit teams and the whole 9. It really is MY DAY. (With all the other crap flying around me, I could use a ME day.)

In any case, both coaches gave me the following advice.

Important Rule for Cycle Racing Virgins: Your first and most important objective is to have fun, followed by this: be safe and try not to get shaken from the pack.

Okie dokie. Now we know what my goal is for tomorrow.

By now we know that racing (and life) don't always present us with the best of circumstances on the eve of a big event. I'd like to be well-rested, massaged, and pumped. But I don't feel good and I've had a hard training week. I've spent the past month planning special events at work to try to shake up (and hopefully improve?) campus life. I'm trying to concentrate on the Fourth Discipline, I have major research deadlines, and am currently sifting through thousands of pieces of data as well as dozens of student assignments. (I'm surprised I'm even taking the time to write this, but if I didn't take a break for awhile, I'd probably suffer even further sanity loss.)

The funeral was way harder than I expected. I was severely depressed, and I am still recovering from what was my first real funk since before my thryoidectomy. My toe arthritis is acting up thanks to all the standing (especially in grass, in high heels) at the burial and wake. I am overwhelmed with the mental and emotional strain.

But I've done a marathon feeling like this before, and that lasted 5.5 hours; this is less than half that. And tomorrow I don't have to be up at 3 or 4 a.m. like I do on a Marathon or Triathlon Eve.

Still, with all this going on, I found myself thinking how the hell did I get here?

The answer is that I got here, not just to the eve of my first road race, but into everything I've been doing the past few months, the fundraising, the knee-deep work and projects and research and special events - all of it - because I never stop challenging myself. Yeah, maybe I am a bit overwhlemed. And yeah, sometimes I bite off more than I can chew. And (at least in the case of this road race) sometimes I may very well suck at something and wear myself out, but I will be able to rest soon enough.

I knew that cycling was my strength, and that I wanted to explore it more, and that I wanted to get even stronger. And I kept saying some day I will do a century, some day I will be an A rider, some day I will do cycling races. Some day, some day, some day.

Well, some day may never come.
I got a taste this week of the bitter reality that life really can end at any moment. It doesn't matter if you're young, healthy, or cancer-free, or aging, frail, and brittle. It can happen at any time, to anyone. Knowing that, I feel like I owe it to myself to live outside my comfort zone.

I feel like we all owe it to ourselves to never, EVER stop challenging ourselves. In many cases, the challenge will be the hardest work you've ever imagined. But, whether you realize your plans or NOT, just making the effort will move you much farther along than you hiding yourself in familiarity.

Life is too short to be stagnant. Reach out, branch out, way beyond your comfort zone, and see just how great you can be. I promise you this: you're capable of much more than you ever imagined.

Flashback Friday: A Collection From Old Blogs

2012-01-27T12:25:00.000-05:00

Small sweet victories

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

Sometimes it's not the elephants in life that make everything worthwhile - sometimes it's the itty-bitty, teensie-weensie pleasures. Like a nice, fluffy down pillow and a hot water bottle on a cool night. A warm, heady kiss; a bold, rich glass of red wine; unexpected laughter and water lapping at the edges of a rocky shore. A soft, clear day with a dry, almost crackling breeze and a perfectly transulcent blue sky; the whisper of change on the air and electric energy in your stepwhen you're thinking creatively. The silence of a blissfully quiet and unoccupied stretch of hours spent in unplanned meditation; even a wrong turn that makes a drive last a little longer than expected when a good song is playing.

That's the kind of weekend I've had. Oh, there were plenty of elephants. But I managed to nibble through most of them. Enough of them to come away from a grueling 48 hours of work with my head still on straight. Enough to learn a few lessons and earn a few compliments. Enough to connect with some old friends and make some new. All the stress aside, I felt like a human being . . . not a human doing. And yes, next weekend I'll be running a marathon, and yes, 26.2 miles and 3 days in a big city alone and a first-class flight are all well and good . . . and huge. And I'm sure I'll be very satisfied and proud of myself when it's all over.

But sometimes the sweetest victories are the smallest.

-circa 2007

The 60-Day Diet Challenge AKA "Eat Like a Diabetic" update

2012-01-25T22:05:00.001-05:00

First: I am up to $130 on a goal of $500 for the American Diabetes Association! Woot! http://main.diabetes.org/goto/megganann

NEXT: I promised to post about little changes I'm making as I try to "eat like a diabetic" this next two months. The first thing to note is that I've been aware of sugar for a long time, since mom was diagnosed when I was in my teens. I don't eat much of it.  I don't even use much agave or honey. I use a little pure maple syrup to flavor my oatmeal sometimes because it's less refined. But I don't do sugar.

However, as I learned when mom was diagnosed, sugar is EVERYWHERE.  We went grocery shopping with new awareness after she found out, scanning everything from the obvious (sugar itself) to the slightly obvious (fruit juice) to the not-so-obvious (cans on the bean aisle) for that dirty 5-letter s-word. (Did you know that it is almost IMPOSSIBLE to get canned tomatoes or kidney beans without added sugar? I mean, all we wanted to do was make chili.   Seriously. Who even WANTS sugar in their chili???)

The next, and most important thing, to note: I HATE artificial sweeteners. Aspartame, saccharin, sucralose, stevia, Equal, Sweet'n'Low, Fat'n'Sassy - WHATEVER.  They all taste bitter. Don't like 'em.

HATE.

hatesomuch.

But, since I already succeeded in so many ways, I figured I'd take it a step further. Just so you know, I had a nice vegetarian meal this week (one of the ADA guidelines is lowering saturated fat, and swapping out a meat meal is a good way to do it), managed to leave a lot of my rice behind the day I could only get the white variety, (they didn't have brown), and succeeded in getting the B to work with my customary dinner plan of two veggies plus protein instead of 1 veggie, 1 protein and 1 carb most of the week. So, I decided I'd try my iced coffee yesterday with Splenda.

Guess what?

I still hate it.

And, by the end of the night, my stomach rebelled. I went for my 4-mile run and made it 2 miles thanks to horrible stomach cramps.  I spent the night and much of today eating bland soups and sandwiches. (I also dislike sandwiches - I only eat them when I'm sick or they're really amazing.) I didn't even ride this morning.

My tummy still hurts.

I know it could have been something else. And, as a researcher, I know that you must hold all other things constant in order to assume your research results indicate any kind of relationship between two variables, but I can tell you the one - and only - thing I did different yesterday at any point of the day was use Splenda.

Whatever it was, what I learned here is the same thing my mom learned when first diagnosed: when you learn you're diabetic, you have a few choices regarding sugar. You can reduce it (depending on the severity of your diabetes), you can drop it, or you can fake it. The very few times I legitimately use sugar - baking once per month, an iced coffee - I would rather eat no sugar at all than fake it.

So there's my report on how my 60-day challenge is going. How about yours? E-mail me or comment and let me know.

I DO that

2012-01-24T05:00:00.000-05:00

Have you been over to Infosack.com to read Heather's blog yet? If you haven't, go now. Her observations about parenting are funny and insightful.

Heather's youngest, Baby Dino (like all toddlers and infants) gets on a new kick every now and then where a particular phrase or group of expressions dominate each interaction with those around her. Her latest has been stuck in my head for weeks: (sometimes out of nowhere), she will screw her face up into a wacky grin - complete with mischievous dimple - and announce boldly: "I do that!"

What, exactly, does she do?

No one yet knows.

If you ask her that question, the response will likely be: "I do it." (Note: the inflection, speed of delivery, and emphasis change every time (I DO that; *I* do that, I do THAT!!, IDOIT, Idothat, etc), but also note that she will never tell you what "that" is.)

Kids aren't for me, but they kick ass. They really love life just like it is. They don't have pre-formed notions. They don't stress, they don't put on airs, and they don't sweat the petty things (although they do sometimes pet the sweaty things. That's what soap and antibacterial gel are made for.)

So my focus right now is the bike, and next weekend is my first road race. (Yes, that sound you just heard was me crapping my pants. I am so not sure I'm ready, but the only way to start is to, well, start.) This past week, I rode over 130 miles. One of those rides was with the Seminole Cyclists (they do, in fact, build stronger riders - I'm proof). When the president figured out that there was no "A" group, he called for the "B" riders. If you've known me long enough, you know I am definitely a "B" rider - nothing more.

Well, unfortunately for MAJ, he didn't call for "B" riders, he called for "B PLUS" riders.

What difference does that little "+" add, you ask? Several miles per hour.

So here I was, tooling along thinking, man these people are hauling ass; they must be sprinting. I can't wait until they calm it back down to a "B" pace.

Instead, they just kept getting faster.

Between miles 10 and 15, they left me in the dust. So, I did what I always do when left alone: hit the drops/aerobars and did work. The other "B" group caught me on the last 3 or 4 miles of the 35+ mile ride. I'm not gonna lie: I had to work hard, and I was pooped around mile 30. But what got me through the tough part of that ride, alone in the wind, was the sound of Baby Dino's voice in my head saying: I do it.

Yeah, I did it.

Let's just put it this way: that 10-15 miles with them brought my average speed for the whole 48 miles, including my solo warmup/cooldown ride to and from the ride, up almost 2 miles per hour.

My kilometer swim in the middle of that ride was pretty challenging. My legs were a little torched. That which doesn't kill me can only make me stronger, right?

So I told Heather the next day how the ride crushed me, and about how I kept thinking I do that as I rode along alone, and I told her how nervous I am about the Spring Fling this weekend. (I have a motto for every race, so I've decided that I do it is my official motto this weekend.) I explained to Heather that road races are not like triathlons or marathons; you don't get a medal just for finishing, people can be tough, the courses can be tough, and EVERYONE sucks at it to begin with.

Her response was just about as awesome as her kid's: you just keep being awesome and those mean bitches can eat your dust.

I laughed, and then I thought to myself, "I do that."

Saying Goodbye

2012-01-23T19:34:00.001-05:00

There is a lot to share with you about my racing and training life, but I just can’t bring myself to do it right now.

On Sunday morning, I was getting ready for my 50ish-mile ride, going through the usual routine: drinking coffee, getting dressed, and checking Ye Olde Facebooke. I noticed that an old friend had contacted me during the night, and I didn’t think a lot of it until I read her message: another mutual friend had passed away.

I don't believe it gets any easier as we age, but when you're in your 20's and 30's, everyone - especially someone like him - is so full of youthful spirit and energy that you never expect to hear that one of us is gone.

Cycling is like therapy, so my amazing ride took my mind off things, but I didn't get much done after that; I just couldn't shake off the shock. I hadn't spoken with him in a while, but we were close after our respective divorces, and before that, when we were both married, we used to hang out in a big group.

He was one of those people you never forget. The perennial class clown, he would tell funny stories, send random texts or call from time to time just to make us laugh. He always had another plan for an exciting project with his truck, his motorcycle, or just for the weekend.

As the day wore on, I realized that my sadness was as much for his passing as it was for the closing of a major chapter of my life. During the day I talked with a few friends from those days; we searched for pictures of our group at different parties and get-togethers. Nearly all of them showed us younger, some of us at different weights and with other hairstyles, many of us a lot less polished and mature; but, in all of them, he was having a blast.

His life, and the news of his death, had a massive impact on me as someone who has spent the vast majority of her life 1) caring what other people think and 2) struggling to live in the present, instead of re-hashing the past or stressing over the future. He sure didn’t care about either one of those things; he was boldly, unapologetically, authentic - and he lived his life completely in the moment.

And now, with a giant part of my past permanently sealed, it seems that this is my cue to do the same.

I feel like I owe it to him to at least keep trying.

My heart goes out to his family and loved ones . . . I know that his little sister adored him and he is survived by a family and famly of friends who will never forget him.

As you know, I end the first blog of the week with an excerpt from song lyrics that capture the tone of the past few days. This Week in Song Lyrics is brought to you from the group that performed at my first real concert.

How can I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad
I thought we’d get to see forever
But forever’s gone away
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday. . .

If we'd get to see tomorrow
I hope it's worth all the wait
It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday . . .
-Boyz II Men, It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday

The Tour de Mom 60-Day Diet Challenge

2012-01-20T18:49:00.002-05:00

I’m slowly getting back into the swing of workouts after my snotty, cough-y, run-down Sick Week. So far this week, I’verun almost 4 miles, ridden almost 40, and tried to train arms the other night at the judgmental judgment-free gym. (I went to my local Y this morning and signed back up there. I figure I can cut something out of my budget to stay at a gym where I’ll actually go.)

Anyway, last night I met up with some of my girlfriends for wine and it ended up being a pretty fun night. We laughed ourselves silly and I stayed out past 11. (Anything past 8 or 9 is wicked late in my book.) Afterwards I didn’t sleep too great, so I got to thinking about what it means to be diabetic.

My endocrinologist told me that he can’t give me a time frame, but at some point in the not-too-distance future, my body will go from being insulin resistant (and on the hypoglycemic side) to being diabetic. Apparently, from years of compensating for low blood sugar,your body eventually gives out and your sugar is permanently too high from compensating all those years. So I decided to educate myself on the process. It turned out, I can choose to change many things about my lifestyle and I may not even have to be diabetic someday. Yeah, there’s the possibility that I will still end up diabetic, but if I can do anything at all to stop it, why wouldn’t I?

I have always been a healthy eater for the most part, and I’ve been increasingly returning to unprocessed foods (read about Project Eat Fresh here), but the holidays and being sick kind of derailed me. So, for the next 60 days (and hopefully longer, of course) I decided to eat like I already am a diabetic, making conscientious food choices, considering how they would affect my life if I already had diabetes. I already have a glucose meter, and I decided to start periodically checking myself again.

So I am issuing all of my Facebook friends and bloggee friends the following challenge: follow the ADA guidelines for diabetics for the next 60 days with me.

What are those guidelines, you ask? To educate myself further, I spent some time on the ADA website. These are your (and my) donation dollars at work, people. These are the kind of resources your funds help create.

According to the ADA, they're no different from other healthy eating guidelines: unrefined carbs, cut down or out your refined sugar, get plenty of lean protein and fruits and veggies. The biggest differences are counting carbs and checking glucose or A1C. Get about 3-4 servings of carbohydrate from whole sources daily; each meal should have no more than about 45-50 grams of carbs. My endocrinologist suggests making sure you have some type of lean protein at every meal or snack.

So here are the goals:

Be aware of your carbs (and take in good ones)
Be aware of your sugar (and eliminate as much refined sugar as possible)
Get plenty of veggies and fruits
Get lots of lean protein
Use the ADA website to find out if your calorie intake is where it should be and track it for a while to see if you are where you need to be
Learn what your blood glucose is, and A1C, if applicable. Get it tested if you never have.

I will be posting weekly about things I've changed and choices I've made differently. At the end of the 60 days, send me a brief summary here of how things changed for you. I will post some of your results in my blog and pick someone to receive a special (probably cheesy) gift.

Here are links to some awesome resources from the ADA.

Meal Plans
http://www.diabetes.org/food-and-fitness/food/planning-meals/diabetes-meal-plans-and-a-healthy-diet.html

You can even sign up for the ADA’s Recipes for HealthyLiving for free.
http://www.diabetes.org/mfa-recipes/meal-plans/

More Meal Plans
http://www.diabetes.org/mfa-recipes/meal-plans/meal-plans.html

Carb Counting

http://www.diabetes.org/food-and-fitness/food/planning-meals/carb-counting/?__utma=1.74302406.1327083218.1327083218.1327083218.1&__utmb=1.15.9.1327083248044&__utmc=1&__utmx=-&__utmz=1.1327083218.1.1.utmcsr=google|utmccn=(organic)|utmcmd=organic|utmctr=(not%20provided)&__utmv=-&__utmk=211270677

Flashback Friday: I Am My Own Atlas

2012-01-20T12:25:00.000-05:00

I am my own Atlas

I finally made it back from the great abyss. I woke up from a seven-yearfluke, and it was yesterday. Shaking off the dust from the precipice . . . itcomes as no shock that nothing has changed.

Have I been running this long? Have the tears really spilled so violentlyfrom my eyes, which are sick with weeping?

I could have lived my life around our demise. For a while, I heard that youmight have tried to do the same. But, even beyond living anesthetized, I reallyneeded little help removing myself from the wreckage. And now, after all thistime, the only thing of consequence I see is everything. Of coldness, I can beaccused . . . of deceit, never . . . of transparency, always.

I am my own Atlas. The Aristotelian unmoved mover. The world that I liftedfrom my shoulders is my world, not the world in sum. The world in sum is toopreoccupied with their own shoulders to consider mine. The sun that spinsinside my little universe will continue to spin. And, within my world, I willcontinue to have many different adventures. I will be a sage in some countries,an ingénue in others. Another heart may beat with mine, but mine is mine alone.Singularity never daunted me

-circa 2007

Judge not, lest ye be judged?

2012-01-18T22:47:00.002-05:00

WARNING: the opinions expressed in this blog are those of one extraordinarily feisty, slightly-warped, almost-little-person who tends to think AND live outside the box. As I have learned from all the wacky looks I've gotten over the years, my thoughts are in no way representative of 1) the people I roll with or 2) the average person.

This month I joined another Mega Commercial Chain Gym (MCCG). I've previously gotten on my E-Soapbox about MCCGs, so I'll spare you my long-winded thoughts, but I joined this one to add more weights training during the off-season whilst still "ballin' on a budget." (It's only $10 a month.) The gym bills itself as "judgment-free-gym-for-all" and even has "alarms" that supposedly sound when muscleheads grunt while overexerting themselves. So I'm thinking it could be an improvement over my previous MCCG's.

I stroll up in there for the first time to train arms this week, and there's a sign that says "no headgear except baseball hats." I ask the guy, "Does that include bandannas?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Well, why? Because of gang colors?"

(Here I am being extra intimidating - all 4'11 of me.)

"No," he responds, "because it's too intimidating to others."

What, like baseball hats, which shade your entire face and can be worn at ridiculous angles reminiscent of gang members are not intimidating?

I'm baffled, but I put on a visor. My friend who went with me is also unassuming, despite being an accomplished body builder (he's not even the type to wear muscle shirts.) We go to a pulldown machine, and there are two guys there, bulging arms, hats on backwards, scowls, the whole nine. Guy #1 is pulling down literally the entire stack of weights, grunting and heaving; Guy #2 is pacing, fists clenched, grimacing/scowling. As I'm thinking, where's this so-called "lunk" alarm?, a generically "pretty" guy walks up and says my friend can't work out with me because he looks too much like a personal trainer.

I walked in the next morning and cancelled my membership. As I've said many times, you can't beat the Y. My Y group is friendly, helpful, tri-minded and, despite the sacrifices I need to make to afford the more expensive membership, blessedly judgment free.

And they don't have to advertise that.

Afterward, I got to thinking. I consider myself a pretty unassuming figure. I'm little. I'm smiley. I'm friendly. I'm extremely goofy. How could anyone find me intimidating?

My drill run on Monday popped into my head all of a sudden.

I'm warming up, when I come up on this little lady walking. She's about my parents' age, in jeans and sneakers; as I get closer, I see that she's clapping. Not like you clap for a band, not like you quickly clap dust off, but a rhythmic, nonstop, repetitive CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I don't know if she is doing this to keep her energy up, measure how fast she's walking, or what, because she isn't dressed in workout clothes. We smile and say good morning, and her smile and nod are as effusively joyful as her applause.

She is really nice, but I have to admit . . . it looked pretty crazy.

On my way back, I pass her again. This time, the warmup is over, and I am doing my drills: happy feet, high knees, butt kicks, grapevines, and strides. I get a little self-conscious . . . I don't like doing this front of passing cars because I look . . . well, crazy.

Huh. Maybe she thought I was the nutty one.

I've said many times before that I am terrible at realizing how people perceive me; I never know if I'm saying or doing something offensive unless it's massively obvious; I try hard to communicate my thoughts diplomatically but often come off as indirect or rude, or I just get completely misunderstood.
But, if people are going to judge you regardless, completely on their own perceptions, then as long as you're not purposely hurting others, should we really even care how we come off?

I'm done thinking for today . . . I may hurt myself if I don't stop.

PS: here you can go sign the Google petition to stop SOPA.
PPS: go donate to the American Diabetes Association for me, so maybe someday my mom and I don't have to be diabetic AND wacky. http://main.diabetes.org/goto/megganann

(OK, I'm really seriously off the sopabox now.) Sad as it makes me to give up the extra height.

Late Christmas Gifts and Lessons to Learn

2012-01-16T08:48:00.000-05:00

I received a late Christmas present this weekend: a few extra pounds.

Most recent pic of me (middle)
On New Year's Eve

This wouldn't be so embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that many fellow bloggers are far superior athletes than I, and it's pretty well-known information that diet is a giant factor in both weight loss and performance, so clearly many of you are better dieters, too. Also, we all know I am already not a skinny triathlete. (Hell, most people still can't believe I swim, bike and run.) See photos. Very much not athlete-looking.

Anyway.

It is also embarrassing because I don't usually gain any weight during the holidays (it's either minimal or I lose), but I tacked on almost 5 pounds this season. According to USA Today and several other sources, the average American puts on about a pound during the holidays. I work out 5-6 hours a week on a REST week. How can I freakin' gain FIVE TIMES the average?

Winning 2nd Athena Overall
at Baldwin Park in June '11
(now I'm just about too light to race Athena)
(I hope)

Yes, I have no thyroid, but you can't completely blame that since I take thyroid hormone. That probably only handicaps me about 10% more than the average person. No, this was a combination of adding candy, drinks, and treats (never much of a sugar person) to my normally 90% healthy, whole-er, less-processed foods, limited-booze diet, reducing my training volume, and then - the piece de resistance - having to take almost an entire week off last week for an upper respiratory bug.

Yuck.

So. About this week off. Saturday rolls around, I have a group ride scheduled on Sunday to train for the 2012 Tour de Mom, and I decide I'm feeling good enough to try a relaxed group ride.

Although I adore running on good days, I hate it on bad days. Swimming (at least in a pool) has earned a similarly ambivalent place in my life. But there has never been a time when a ride has not made me feel better.
No matter how thy-low I felt, no matter how ill, on days when runs would trash my legs and self-efficacy or swimming would aggravate my balance disorders, on days when weight training just made me feel wimpy, riding always made me feel better. The only other thing this (or more) therapeutic for me is yoga. In fact, I've often said there really is no such thing as a "bad ride."
That changed this weekend.

Even when I feel fat, riding
usually makes me feel better

Friday night through Saturday morning I rolled out of bed nearly every hour to use the restroom and cough my brains out, each time feeling more miserable from the lack of sleep brought on by recovering from a cold, and from some other mysterious yuckiness. The final time I did this only to realize that I had less than 15 minutes to get on my way to my ride. I threw my cold weather gear on and rolled out in time for the 40-ish degree ride anyway.

The problems with this were manifold:

I had gotten less than 5 hours of real sleep
I felt dizzy as hell
I was still congested
My head hurt
I had no time for enough coffee or a real breakfast
My stomach was vaguely queasy
I forgot to take my thyroid medicine (this NEVER happens)

So the ride ended with me feeling nauseous, sniffling, coughing, and getting dropped 10 miles in. And when I say "dropped" I don't mean "dropped back a little," I mean left completely behind. So bad that I don't even think anyone realized I was gone. (Normally this would hurt my feelings quite a bit, as I had some friends on the ride, but I felt too shiteous to care.)

I finally got home from getting my car, took a hot shower and sat down under a warm blanket in some fuzzy PJ pants.

The problems with this were also manifold:

I was supposed to do research all day - now I would have to do it all Sunday, and I was already behind from being sick AND already had plans for Sunday
I was supposed to go to a party that night
The B couldn't come get me, because his car doesn't have a bike rack, and my keys were with me while my car was at the bike shop
I haven't been dropped like this in 5-6 years

Normally getting dropped from a ride would also really hurt my ego, but all this did was make me feel bad physically. The B had to help me get out of my toe coves, shoes, and gloves. (He then made me some tomato soup and a grilled cheese, which was nice of him.)

But, after I started to feel a little better, I started to realize . . . they can't all be winners.

I talk a lot about the lessons I've learned from training and from cancer, but there is a big lesson here that I still haven't learned: when to quit. I guess I thought (foolishly) that I could just keep pedaling through anything. And, because I have become conditioned to not feeling great most of the time, I've pretty much trained through all kinds of shitty physical stuff. So I don't really recognize the difference between time to just push through it and time to back off. There is a difference between pushing your physical limits and making yourself sick.

The good news is this: I went out there and tried. I didn't make it more than 14 miles, but I didn't lay in bed feeling sorry for myself. Now I just have to figure out when it is more appropriate to do that instead.

Now, since I've had 2 full nights of sleep and MORE rest from training, my congestion seems gone, and I have the inspiration, I'm going to get my ass in gear and try to go for a little run. Because, while it is up to me take care of me, this 5 pounds (plus the other 15 or 20 I'd like to shed) and this 70.3 (and these cycling races) are not going to take care of themselves.

Reflections on My 2-year Cancer-versary

2012-01-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

I poured myself a glass of vino tonight and retreated to the Research Cave not to do Research, but to relax and reflect on the coming week.

As you may know, Monday is Martin Luther King Day. Martin Luther King Day is my two-year Cancerversary. It was this day two years ago when my endocrinologist called me and told me the cells from my thyroid biopsy were papillary carcinoma. My total thyroidectomy in March 2010 confirmed the diagnosis of thyroid cancer and my radioactive iodine treatment took place in April. On July 27, 2011, I received the news that I was on my way to remission, but I celebrate MLK Day 2010, because this is really the day cancer changed my life.

I look back often and remember how I felt that day. I have said countless times that I truly believed my life would end at that moment. I was already sick, tired, and overweight, and I was terrified that the removal of my thyroid would only exacerbate these conditions and virtually erase the miserable modicum of fitness I'd spent 4 years achieving.

Instead, the opposite happened.

It hasn't been all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows shooting from a unicorn's ass. I've had some really difficult moments. In fact, I minimized this detail, but I was so ill on the drive to the Savannah Marathon in November that I had to nap several times that day and feared for my ability to even begin the race the next day. . . let alone finish (with a 43ish minute PR).

But that's another one of the countless things cancer has taught me: never underestimate yourself. You can push so much harder and farther than you expect. Perhaps even more importantly than that: nothing heals like perspective, because the way you feel during one small moment of your life is never indicative of how you will feel forever. (I try to remember this whenever I have any kind of big decision to make about how something affects me.) And, maybe even more importantly than that, MLK Day 2010 taught me that the most wonderful and amazing of circumstances can arise from the most frightening and terrible. Up until that moment in my life, I had been through just about every other terrible thing I could have imagined.

Even though my particular variety of cancer is not life-threatening (now that I have been treated), the last 2 years of my life have taught me that it is never too late, and life is far too short to live without the things you really, truly love. For me, those things were chasing my dreams of training, racing, education - and making time to live, love, and laugh (and eat!) with my family and family of friends.

It is important to note that this also included a dose of moderation. While I was never a party girl (a "late night" for me was anything past midnight), I realized that I would never be as healthy, or feel as healthy, as I could if I indulged in even the moderate level of late nights and alcohol consumption in which I had occasionally indulged before. So I set myself a new collection of goals, the most important of which was to treat myself well. That included some time to let loose and drink a glass of vino from time to time. . . to the extent that I was otherwise healthy and well-rested.

Cancer didn't change anything. It changed everything.

2 years ago Monday, I set out on a journey that saved my life in every sense of the expression.

This week, more than ever, I am grateful for life, love, and yes, even cancer. Remember, life is too short, so treat yourself well, take every chance to be happy, and chase down your dreams with relentless passion.

That's my plan, anyway.

The Week in Song Lyrics

I will leave you with an early edition of The Week in Song Lyrics. This week comes to you from the Sixx:A.M. song Life is Beautiful. They're a bit morbid if you take them literally, but bear with me, because the message is vital.

The song is about how having a brush with death can make you aware of your mortality. The line with which I identify the most says: "I was waiting for my hearse/what came next was so much worse/it took a funeral to make me feel alive . . ."

When I learned I had cancer, I instantly felt it was like a death sentence. I was waiting for my hearse; what came next - the prospect of not dying, but instead, living a life crippled by illness and fatigue - was so much worse. But it took that experience to make me feel alive.

Yes, I feel better because my thyroid never really worked, so being on a regulated dose of thyroid hormone makes a huge difference in how I feel. And yes, my body works better at fighting off illnesses because it's no longer battling 7 years' worth of cancer cells. But a lot of it was mental. A lot of my improvement came from realizing how beautiful life really is; that sometimes you just don't grasp how amazing things are until you've had a brush with how bad they can be.

And that's why I celebrate this coming Monday instead of mourning it.

You can't quit until you try
You can't live until you die
You can't learn to tell the truth until you learn to lie
You can't breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you're the joke
There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel
Alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful . . .

I know some things that you don't
And I've don't things that you won't
There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
I was waiting for my hearse
What came next was so much worse
It took a funeral to make me feel alive
Alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful . . .

Flashback Friday: A Collection From Old Blogs

2012-01-13T12:22:00.000-05:00

And so it is . . .

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky . . .

-Damien Rice, The Blower's Daughter

My heart is so full . . . I sometimes awake at night to find it fervently pounding my chest, a deranged prisoner. At 1 a.m., my eyes fly open. There's a cat purring, kneading me. I push him away and tiptoe to the bathroom. My skin tingles - the AC is low - my thick comforter, pillows and purring furry water bottles have numbed me to the faux frigidness - and the sound of my feet on the floor is eerie, softly echoing . . .

A fiery ball of anguish settles deep in the pit of - where? My stomach? My chest, along with my crazy heart? It boils there, pulsing, molten, insufferable. How many times are you going to set yourself up like this? How many chances can you take? How many risks? You can rest assured that, during my waking hours, I do not argue with my ambition, motivation, capacity to freefall, propensity to love, or any number of tendencies that are pulling away my skin from the inside. Yet in this cold, dark space, where no one sees or knows me, I ask. I continue to ask. And I am repeatedly unable to answer.

As I once wrote, long ago: I am, above all things, a restless soul. I am not the one who chose the easy path. I am not the one who settled for simplicity. I am the one who saw what could be and not what was. I was not unaware of the potential sorrow in my choice. And yet it was a choice I made. A choice I made because I was determined to live wildly, blindly, recklessly in the moment. Perhaps I will never know why I always make the choice that brings greater joy - the same choice that usually promises the least longevity. Maybe I am all too aware of my own fragility. I wash my hands, return to bed, unable to find rest. Even my sound machine and sleep mask fail to comfort me. My heart is too full. My heart is too empty.

-circa 2006

I've Hit the Big Time, aka Look Ma I'm Famous Part II

2012-01-12T19:44:00.000-05:00

A while back, my local running store sent out this Newsletter. I think it was 2010 or '11. The happy smiling runner down in the lefthand corner under Knightro the UCF mascot is me. (I hope this is an omen that I am going to be a UCF PhD student soon.)

Anyway.

Here I am down here under Knightro . . . smiling

Today a friend tags me on Facebook because I have now also made it to a Danskin ad.

Apparently, I am either a very happy athlete or just have exceptional timing.

Or both.

This is extra awesome because the person with whom I was a Swim Angel was the person who helped me get introduced to my current training friends.

The last set of pictures on the right is us in our yellow Swim Angel shirts holding our noodles.
I'm the second to last on the far right - the shortest person here - sandwiched between two women . . .
and smiling

So cool.

Anyway, that's all I got for today because I am still sick as hell and I'm not playing the oh-let's-see-if-I-CAN-train-today game and getting sicker.

I know who ends up winning that game.

Happy Thursday.

And So it Begins.

2012-01-11T20:57:00.000-05:00

While I am recovering from this cold thing, I have some time to sit around and think about what's ahead of me.

PhD letters. Acceptance or rejection. Either way, I will know something.
My first research proposal presentation.
Another semester of students, and the inevitable good times that will ensue.
Another quarter of other students at the other school . . . more good times.

And another season of century training.

Last year, I decided I was going to do my first century ride.

What adventures we had. A big group of us spent every Sunday together, going from spot to spot in Central Florida, enjoying the outdoors, loving life, and making new friends everywhere we went. We were loud, fun, funny, and more than a little smart-alecky.

It was one of the best times of my life. (Ass-disfiguring saddle sores aside.)

I can tell you firsthand that it wouldn't have been possible without a very special group of people. One of them in particular was my very first real cycling mentor. She taught me that it was ok to push yourself to the next level, that it was ok to ride with the guys - that it was ok to ride with new people, even.

It is because of her that I am attempting this.

And this.

So.

Let the games begin.

All of them.

Getting Better, Not Bitter - and the Week in Song Lyrics

2012-01-08T14:50:00.000-05:00

It has been a short training week. I'm am coming down with a miserable sinus/cold thing. Major yuck.

Next week, training begins for the 2012 Tour de Mom! Since I'm not feeling great, there are no significant training updates. I am laying low until I am less snotty.

On the non-training front, there is a lot going on, though. For one thing: all my PhD applications are in . . . let's hope I get in somewhere! For another: work is super busy. Yet another: working on a really interesting research project this semester.

One of the biggest things going on is that I have a lot of friends around me going through hard times. We have talked about just how tough it is to not get bitter about bad circumstances, especially when they happen in 3’s, 6’s or even 16’s. But letting something make you bitter, I have realized through my own trials, is the same thing as letting your circumstances beat you.

You hear me talk a lot about my Dad-isms. One of my favorites is "there are no victims, only volunteers." I agreed with this completely until someone said: what about certain types of cancer, or freak accidents, or your dog breaking his leg? Surely you didn't do something to cause all of those to happen? Not everything is in our control. We were talking about how there a lot of people in life to whom shit just happens. I know, because for a long time I was one of those people. (Hell, some would still consider me one of those people.)

At that time in my life, the people around me were not those people. So no one understood what it was like to have your contacts pop out while driving, your dog break his leg, a hurricane flood your wood floors and your heart stop beating correctly all in the same week. But another part was my mentality - a combination of the attitude why does this kind of shit always happen to me? why can't it happen to someone else? and a tendency to unknowingly create an obstacle to solving the problem that in turn keeps the problem firmly rooted. The longer I held onto that feeling of what next? why me?, the harder it was to let go of it, and the more it stood between me and any possible solutions.

When dad says there are no victims, only volunteers, he's acknowledging that we all play some little part in causing what happens to us, whether we like it or not.
There are many things in life that we do not control. But I realized that, in the cases of things we can't control, it's not our actions or thoughts leading up to those circumstances which cause them to occur. It is, however, as our actions and thoughts after they occur that determines what happens next.

Just a few days ago, a Facebook friend posted this, and it fit perfectly with my conversation with dad and my friends. It isn't just about being a victim by creating bad circumstances for yourself - it is about discarding the "victim mentality" even when things you can’t control happen. Because they always will. It's about saying to yourself, "I am not going to be bitter. I am going to be better.”

Without any further adieu, the week in song lyrics, in honor of making fresh starts on your own:

I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen, live passionately, tonight
I'm gonna marry the dark
Gonna make love to the stars
I'm a soldier to my own emptiness
I am a winner....
-Marry the Night, Lady Gaga

Thy-Highs

2012-01-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

Anyone who's had to deal with thyroid cancer or disease understands the inevitable energy swings. Mostly, you feel like you got run over by a truck, but if you're lucky and/or good, you can manage your energy properly and end up with a few days a week where you feel normal or even amazing.

I call these my "Thy-Highs."

I've learned lots of crazy things from having both cancer and thyroid issues. At first (as some of you know), when I started feeling ill, there were an endless string of lows. Every day, without fail, was a no-energy, sick-to-my-stomach, pit of despair. After my surgery and they've regulated my synthroid better, I am gradually picking up.

Is some of that my medicine? Sure. But a lot of it is mental.

It doesn't mean I don't still have lows, but I have learned to capitalize on the highs. On the days when I HAVE energy, I seize it by the cojones. I laugh, I plan, I run, I ride, I work, I clean, and - most of all - I revel in the beauty of having a clear mind and a strong body.

I do this all knowing that a Thy-Low could come at any moment.

And here is an important distinction: you can't live in fear of the lows, because then you forget to both embrace and take advantage of the highs. You just understand that they - like the highs - are fleeting. Back in the day, I would completely ruin my Thy-Highs by worrying about when/if/where another Thy-Low would come.

For there's a change in the weather

There's a change in the sea

From now on, there'll be a change in me

My walk will be different

My talk and my name

Nothin' about me's gonna be the same

I'm gonna change my way of livin'

And if that ain't enough

I'm gonna change the way I strut my stuff

Remember that?

There've been some changes made.

Now, when a Thy-Low comes, I embrace it with open arms. I sleep, I try to relax, and I don't stress about it. I know that the Thy-Lows are just as temporary as the Thy-Highs, and before I even know it I will be running, biking, swimming, cleaning, studying, grading, researching again.

And seizing it by the cojones.

Flashback Friday: A Collection From My Old Blogs

2012-01-06T04:32:00.000-05:00

It's Not You I Miss

This morning I saw our photo hanging on the wall. Airline ticket stubs. A note you wrote me. The card that came with the flowers you sent to the hotel where we spent our honeymoon. I still haven't taken them down. I'll be gone in about a month.

So will they.

I'm still in mourning. I'm still missing something, someone, somewhere. But it's not you I miss - it's what we had. Even more than that: I miss what I thought we could be, should be, would be - but we couldn't. Didn't. Wouldn't.

How can you miss something you never had?

You used to say I was your inspiration . . . the source of motivation for all your dreams and plans. You told me I made you want to be a better man: to speak more eloquently, dress more stylishly, perform more effectively. Well, I never stopped reaching. Even more, since our collapse, I have set my goals in stone and proceeded to chase them down with a fierce, almost bloodthirsty determination. One could say I'm even stronger in spite of - or because of - the situation. Yet you are stuck, lying frozen in your lack of hope, without venue, without direction, without aspiration. When I reached for your hand over the years, your effort and response were just . . .whatever.

Maybe I've changed. But it's only been to inch closer to my true potential - that very potential that you claimed made you fall in love with me. And that's what I miss: our potential. I suppose the onset of every young love is teeming with potential, but it seemed like ours was extraordinary. We could take on the world, explore new places, meet new people, learn new languages, unearth mysterious treasures and, together, become a force unlike any the world had seen. But we didn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't.

Now, as I extract myself from the rubble, I find myself wondering if there is any value in potential - if potentiality is even trustworthy. After all, many college football stars have been awarded the coveted Heisman Trophy (surely, the greatest sign of potential in NCAA football), only to have completely unremarkable, even nonexistent, professional careers.

Don't get me wrong - I want to believe. I want potential to be an accurate predictor of success. I'm just afraid to put my faith in something that has already disappointed me so greatly. Disappeared so quickly. Dissolved so easily.

No, I don't miss you at all. In so many ways, just like those things we didn't become, you were never even there.

-circa 2007

Tradeoffs

2012-01-03T22:32:00.000-05:00

I'm pooped. Went back to work today (tomorrow on both campuses). Back to working 6-7 days a week. Oh boy!

Here's the official week-in-song-lyrics song for 1/1/12. They remind me of my New Year's Eve.

Let's get it on
Yeah, ya'all can come along
Everybody, drinks on me
Bought out the bar
Just to feel like I'm a star
Now I'm thankin' the academy
Missed my ride home, lost my iPhone
I wouldn't have it any other way
If you're with me, let me hear you say
I like it like that

-Hot Chelle Rae, I Like it Like That

This morning was a comedy of errors. Florida is having a rare cold snap (lows in the 30s for the first time all winter), but I didn't want to let that stop me. I decided to grow a giant pair of marbles and go for my coldest bike ride yet - high 30s. Usually I'll ride into the mid-40s but once the low 40s to high 30s show up, I'm out. But today I sucked it up, layered it up, and headed out.

I ended up at the wrong place for a group ride, a few minutes late. I missed the group I was supposed to ride with, but they were a new group. (I'm trying to ride with new groups to get stronger.) Since it was a new group about 13 miles from home, I didn't know the route, crap blew in my eyes all morning, and I had to come back to shed a layer because I got too hot. My frozen toes were pretty painful, but otherwise the only crappy parts of the ride were getting crap in my eyes and riding alone in the crazy wind.

Wind is no fun when you're in a group, but it's even less fun when you're alone. Add to this the fact that I didn't know the route of the ride and I was toast. And THEN the icing on the cake: on the way home there was a traffic jam.

Sitting in the jam, I got to thinking about how nice it is to not have to drive this far for workouts anymore. I used to belong to random gyms that were almost a half hour from home, so I had to spend a chunk of time driving to and from workouts. Needless to say, living close to where I work out has made a huge difference - I'm a lot less likely to miss or skip workouts because of it. My training stays on track.

I often complain about my limited pool schedule - I work out at the local high school pool, and they are only open during hours when the swim team isn't using it. But I realized that it's a tradeoff - I could have access to a pool 7 days a week for 16 hours a day, but have to drive 12 miles out of my way each way to get there. Or I could have limited access to the pool but be able to run or ride there if I need or want.

In life, as with training, there are often tradeoffs. It's up to us to decide what it is worth exchanging for something that may benefit us more. Right now I am going through a period where I have to decide whether to make some tradeoffs. Realizing that there are always other options made me feel hopeful.

Only 2 more applications left. The apps are due in 2 weeks, but I've been saving up the money so I can submit them 2 weeks early to make sure I don't miss the deadlines or have any problems. One of them gave me a heart attack this week - the system didn't tell me how to pay for it and the campus was closed until 2 days after the deadline. Then the waiting begins until February.

In the meantime, I'll be braving this lovely freeze we are having. After a little rest.

Kickin' Off 2012!

2012-01-02T13:40:00.000-05:00

Welcome to 2012 and the first blog entry of the year!

How was your New Year's Eve? Mine was . . . . . boozy. In my 20s, I could knock back quite the cocktail, but now that I'm - well, not 20-something anymore - not so much.

Ever heard that toast may all your joys be pure joys, and all your pain, champagne? There's a reason pain and champagne are in there so close together. (I don't normally get champagne hangovers, but I don't normally drink that much of it, either.)

OK, so now that I have confessed my sins, you'll be proud to know that I've also done my penance: 30 windy miles in the little chain ring.

Remember my new version? MAJsicle 2012? As little as I party anymore, 2012 will be filled with even less partying. Why? Because that's not what The New MAJ Would Do. I have some big plans/goals for this year, and getting White Girl Wasted (even once a year) isn't in there.

In the past, MAJ would work on New Things. MAJ would try something crazy. MAJ would see how long she could go. Well, in 2012, it's all about changing it up. So I'm working on getting FASTER at things I've already done and toning up to look more like an athlete.

The first part of the year is my off-season. As I gear back up for training, and start working on SPEED, I will be doing shorter, faster things.

First, a crit (to say I did one), because even though it is crazy and new, it will help my speed training.
I'm also going on a tri-specific strength plan. I will be hitting the weights to try to cut my body fat drastically between now and March.
Then, to train for Florida 70.3, the Tour de Mom for the American Diabetes Association.
Also would like to do a 5k (to try to do one in somewhere between 25 and 28 minutes)
The 70.3 itself, hopefully in 6:30 or so.
I won't have the cash to do many summer races, but if I do, they'll be short and cheap.

Like I said, SPEED is my focus. I am trying to learn how to go hard or go home.

Some side goals:

Swim 120,000+ yards
Ride 70 miles + per week
Run 10+ miles per week

The final part of the year is endurance. Since I have to flip back to endurance for marathon training, I may do another century. We'll see. My goal marathon is NYC; if I don't get in to NYC I'll aim for Marine Corps. I don't know what my marathon goal will be - it will depend on the year. Maybe to get a sub-5 marathon under my belt. But I am playing that part by ear.

Of course, some of this also depends on another big, scary and exciting event in my life . . . PhD acceptance/rejection letters. And no, I don't plan on celebrating (or mourning) with anywhere near the level of booze that New Year's included.

As much as I love a good celebration, I am sure I'll figure something out.

Happy New Year! (or, as I love to say, HAPPY NEW YOU!)

Flashback Friday: 2006-7 Year in Review

2011-12-30T12:19:00.000-05:00

Thought this one was appropriate for the new year!

2006-2007 . . . the year in review

Yes, I know. Most people save their "year-in-review" posts untilthe New Year. But I just can't succumb to the wiles of convention. Convention?What's convention? I laugh in the face of convention! I thumb my nose attradition! (This coming from someone who just spent Thanksgiving weekendwith her family, believes in thank you cards and sends money home to herparents. Yeah right.)

Anyway, it seemed like a good time to review my year.

It's my birthday . . . I've been alive another 365 days, for which I have been grateful every single 24 hours. So, we'll roll the clock back to November 29, 2006 . . . I was working at a large TV network. I had left my husband. No one knew - except 2 friends and 1 acquaintance. I was going to school. I wastraining for my first half marathon. December came - I ran my first half marathon. January through March I spent pretty sick . . . trying new medicines, feeling sick, gaining weight, losing weight, training, not training. The tests started to come back negative for cancer and positive for some other things .March, I did my first triathlon. April, I did my 2nd - and DNF'd. May, I did my3rd. June, I did my fourth. July, I took an offer at a startup software firm and started workingtowards the divorce; I also set a 5k PR. August, I did my 5th tri and won myage group - then went back to school. September, I rested. October, I trainedand worked my face off, and did the Jacksonville Half - my second halfmarathon. I dropped one class.

And that brings us back to November - two of my friends got married, I spent all my time with my best pals, I ran the Philly Marathon and here I am. 28. Another year older, maybe not the wiser, but certainly older.

It's been a fun ride. I'm looking forward to 30. And 40. Maybe not so much 50, but we'll see how I feel about that once 40 comes around. I have a feeling I'll enjoy it all. Thanks for all the wonderful birthday wishes. It's been an amazing year.

BLOGS: 12 You Should Read in '12

2011-12-30T08:42:00.002-05:00

I originally started blogging for several reasons. One was to keep me straight as I trained; the accountability was important, and my original tri mentor told me it was important to get my goals written out. And one was because I like to write and wanted to become a better writer. And another was because I liked the other bloggers a lot.

So, for 2012, I am going to do 2 things: one is share some of my old writings with you so I can inspire myself to get back into "writing" to actually write (and try to improve at it). Maybe there will be something that sparks a creative flame.

The second is this: I'm going to share a list of 12 people I follow, and why you should follow them too. (Hint: you'll notice the theme of balancing "real" life with "tri" life is common!) There's something for everyone here - whether you're trying to juggle a social life with training, parenthood with your own hobbies, or learning what it's like to be yourself for the first time in years.

Muppets on Parade

Although it focuses on the fantastic accomplishments of her training (HELLO! Ironman much?!?!), Molly's blog is always full of ridiculously cute pics of her "beardie boys," the bearded collies she raises and shows. (She recently added a St. Bernard puppy and he . . is . . ADORABLE.) Follow along as they bark, bounce, and run.

A Code Geek's Tail
Check your ego at the door. Not only is Wes capable of spinning a killer race report, he's also one of the most "real" people on "teh interwebs." He is the antithesis to the obsessed triathlete - he loves life, and he balances training, coaching soccer games, eating, and drinking all with such zest and wit that you can't help but love him.

140 Point 6 Miles...Of Awesome!!
KC has had an amazing journey through the world of Ironman. One of my favorite things about KC's blog: gear reviews! Also: I can't tell you how many other amazing athletes whose blogs I've found because KC follows them or they follow KC. (KC's blog was nominated for one of the Top Blogs of 2011).

Running down a dream and Tri-ing to have a good time
Speaking of balance . . . Alili's latest challenge is figuring out how to balance new motherhood with a career and triathlon. One of the latest introductions into her life (besides her toddler) is dance. Alili is positive, grateful, and upbeat. She has also struggled with some thyroid issues very similar to mine recently.

Run Bitch Run
Isn't the title funny enough? RBR's blog is not for those lacking a sense of humor or afraid of the occasional f-bomb. Whether it's a ridiculously full race schedule (marathons and trail runs and ultras, oh my!) or the people who annoy her at work, this is the place to go for a hearty chuckle.

Couch Potato to Ironman

Prepare to be inspired. Duane started out tri-ing to adopt a healthy lifestyle and lose a significant amount of weight. Along the way, he has been completing triathlons, getting closer to his goal, and learning a lot about himself. He is a fantastic, caring, and positive individual who spedns a great deal of his time encouraging others to be healthier, too.

Everything Good

Tea is the first blogger I read who made me realize that any situation could be fun and funny (and she inspired me to learn how change fonts and colors.) A mom, triathlete, marathoner, and business owner, over the years, her blog (like mine) has seen many incarnations. One thing remains unchanged: her posts are always unique, insightful, and interesting.

My little corner of the internet ...
Marlette is not a triathlete. Marlette is, however, a young lady who has had a lot of interesting experiences moving back and forth from Florida to New York and exploring issues of living live and promoting equality. (She did just get her first road bike, so there's hope she may tri some day. I'm working on her.)

Discom-BOB-ulated Running
BoB's a feisty Floridian who is pretty much always running and laughing. One of the things I love about her blog is that she admits she used to be your typical 20-something party girl. Now, while she is still a knockout in a cute outfit, she is an accomplished athlete who still finds time for a cocktail with friends every now and then. How can you not love that?!!?

Heather Stanford, Professional Mom
Remember when I said that some of you could relate to balancing motherhood with your own hobbies? While I haven't succeeded in convincing her to do a tri (yet - she hates swimming), she does like to run. One of my favorite recent entries focuses on how to be a positive body-image model for your daughters.

Working it out...
Karen is not only a serious triathlete, she's a tennis player, too. (Talk about balancing.) Her blog is full of fun giveaways from her sponsors, awesome race reports, and the occasional blurb about food. Since I like all of these things, I follow her regularly. (Oh, by the way . . . she just issued a 70.3 fitness challenge).

TriathleteTalk

Kyle's blog is very new, but he has a lot of potential. He's a younger guy who attended one of the schools where I TA and RA. Kyle is trying to qualify for the Ironman World Championships - he went from being inactive and overweight to an 18-minute 5k. Yowza. I found Kyle through my friends at Cat One Fitness and Central Florida Cycling.

ENJOY!

BLINGtastic End to 2011

2011-12-29T11:57:00.000-05:00

On Christmas Eve, this showed up at my door.

It's my special medal for doing two RnR Marathons in one year. Guess they figure if you're crazy enough to do multiple marathons you deserve some extra bling. LOVE it! It is my FAVORITE medal!

Then these showed up under the Christmas tree. For tris . . .

For marathons and halfs (although I have so many halfs, I might need a separate one for those)

I feel like a rock star . . .these suckers are super heavy with all these medals danglin' away.

New Year's Eve is my favorite holiday. I think it trumps my birthday and Christmas. And it is no secret that my party life is not huge (especially since I got serious about training. Have YOU tried running at lactate threshold with a hangover?) So, this one time a year, I go all out and party like it's 1999.

This year is special. It's also the 3-year anniversary of my relationship with the B. We've had a lot of ups and downs. It's hard to believe it's been 3 years. Who knows what is ahead for us. And, best of all, 4 of my best friends in the UNIVERSE are joining me to celebrate 12/31/11.

I have already started planning my attack on 2012. I will be sharing some of training/MAJsicle plans with you soon enough. But for now, know that I will be spending my hung-over New Year's Day hanging up my bling and putting away Christmas decorations. Oh, and let's not forget: eating collard greens and blackeyed peas. Click here to learn why!

Enjoy your last few days of 2011!

MAJsicle 2012

2011-12-28T18:00:00.000-05:00

It’s no secret that I’m a ‘Droidhead. I love the user interface, the software, the equipment, and the open market. And one of the things I love about Android software releases? They have the coolest names. My last Android phone had an operating system called Gingerbread. The next incarnation is called Ice Cream Sandwich. Yum!

About 2 years ago, I decided that I needed to re-invent myself. I called this iMAJination of myself MAJ, v3.1.2. What I discovered today as I reflected on this old blog entry is this: for the first time in my life, every single one of the goals I set forth for myself for 2012 were completed.

And I did it in the face of some giant odds.

Which means the next iMAJination is really gonna kick some ass.

The specific goals I set forth for MAJ, version 3.1.2, were:

getting the thyroid biopsy (done – unfortunately, we know the result was malignant, but we also now know I’m currently in the clear.)
getting the house sold (done!)
getting my self-confidence back (well underway!)
eating healthy again (also well underway – ask me about the upset tummy I had all night from all the rich food this season. Apparently I’ve been eating SO healthy that the holidays give me a tummyache)
working out like I used to (both of the above to help lose weight in addition to feeling better and eventually train again) I’ve done so well with this one that I’ve actually DOUBLED my workout stats from last year
graduate (done, and then some)
take the GRE (done TWICE, and then some)
get promoted again (well, I didn’t accomplish this one, but I DID get a WAY better job, so we’ll say DONE)
oh, and keep things straight with the guy (this one will never be accomplished unless I get a new dude altogether so we’ll bypass it for now.)

I need to figure out what the next version of MAJ needs to accomplish. Plus it needs to have a cool Droidy name.

How about MAJsicle? I'm not a big fan of creamsicles, or dreamsicles (or whatever you know them as), but it sounds cool. And tasty. And refreshing.

So while I ruminate on what the goals will be for the MAJsicle Revision, here are a couple of parting thoughts:

FIRST

I am inviting all my girlfriends to make a pact with me for 2012. The pact is this: we will try to make this version of ourselves the best to date. Instead of writing resolutions, we are sitting down to determine who do I want to be? Then, in times of self-doubt, fear, difficulty or worry, we are going to remind each other to ask, "is this what the old me would do, or what the NEW me would do?"

NEXT

I have ended 2011 with over 100,000 yards swam, over 1800 miles ridden, and almost 500 miles ran. While individually these are not a lot in some areas, they represent more than double the volume at which I trained in 2010.

2011 totals

Bike: 117h 28m 47s - 1889.05 Mi
Run: 101h 35m 37s - 466.65 Mi
Swim: 45h 36m 41s - 100363.7 Yd
Strength: 15h 35m
Stretching: 10m 20s
Walking: 3h 20m
Yoga: 1h 35m 20s

2010 totals
Bike: 40h 31m 45s - 521.17 Mi
Run: 38h 27m 36s - 153.64 Mi
Swim: 8h 55m 04s - 14400 Yd
Strength: 5h 02m
Run: 55m 33s

FINALLY

Do yourself a flavor (you decide what to call it) and hop on over and read this great article shared with me by a Tri Friend. You'll thank me.

The Off-Season is For . . . Well . . . Being OFF (plus Song Lyrics for the Week Ending 12/25)

2011-12-27T17:52:00.000-05:00

At one of the races I did this year, I unknowingly subscribed to Lava Magazine. It has been one of the most awesome forgetful moments ever. I love the technical articles, gear reviews, triathlon recaps and training tips, plus the mag is gorgeous and has interesting "did you know" tidbits (for example, did you know that the world record pace for men's marathoning is a 4:43 mile? What the shit?!! I can barely do twice that for a 5k, let alone 26.2).

Anyway, this month there is a fantastic article about the off season, which I thought was pertinent because SO many of us are sitting around thinking . . . man, I'm off it right now . . . I really need to get back on it.

The point of the article was this: the off-season is for being OFF. Meaning, you cut your workout volume in about half, and you do as much as you (honestly) can, trying not to indulge TOO much, but knowing that the holidaze are busy and hectic, you don't sweat the rest. Coach Julia and I had the same discussion. You need to rest so that you can attack the 2012 season with renewed vigor (and legs).

At first this concept killed me. I felt like a lazy slug. Then I decided to pull my workout logs to see just how lazy I was. I saw a half marathon . . . several 3-6 hour weeks . . . and, even on the light weeks a couple runs and rides. I did a 5k run on Christmas Eve and worked out 4-5 days most weeks. I even fit in a strength workout.

Aside from having a hard time getting to the pool because of limited hours, I'm not doing bad.

So, I hope you enjoy both your holidaze AND your OFF-season. As long as you aren't going on all-night food-and-booze benders every week, look forward to a fantastic 2012 and remember that it's for being OFF.

And now the song lyrics for the week . . . inspired by the fact that 2012 is about me learning to be stronger and faster, learning to push to new speeds and "Race in the Red." Granted, the Breathe Carolina song is about partying, but some of it also fits racing. These are the parts I sing to myself as I'm hitting my lactate threshold and thinking this off-season is gonna make me so strong that 2012 ain't gonna know what hit it sideways.

Caught up and I can't feel my hands

No need to chase
Can you relate?
Can you keep up the pace like you're dying for this?
.....
I'm only getting started
I won't blackout
This time I've got nothing to waste
Let's go a little harder
I'm on fire
I won't blackout
I'm on my way
I'm only getting started
......
This won't stop 'til I say so

This won't stop 'til I say so
This won't stop 'til I say so
Going and going and going and going and go

I'm only getting started

I won't blackout
This time I've got nothing to waste
Let's go a little harder
I'm on fire
I won't blackout
I'm on my way
I'm only getting started

-Breathe Caroline, Blackout

The Original MAJ

2011-12-23T06:36:00.000-05:00

I am feeling somewhat nostalgic this holiday season. Maybe it's because I am without my parents this year. In any event, I am often asked how I became MAJ or The Original MAJ. So, here is the story.

Back in the 1960s, when my parents were newlyweds and my mom was working in an office, she would sign memos and notes to her bosses with her initials, MAJ, rather than writing out her whole name. Eventually this stuck, as it tends to do when your initials spell a real name, and the people with whom she worked began calling her MADGE instead of her real name.

In the early 2000s, when I was working in an office, I signed a lot of e-mails with MY inititals - MAJ - rather than writing out my whole name. Without any of us knowing the story about how my mom became MAJ, my coworkers started calling *ME* MADGE instead of my real name. This spread to my friends, professors, and anyone who ever got an e-mail from me.

Both of us were MADGE way before anyone decided to give Madonna that nickname.

When my mom found out that I was being called MAJ, too, we would I often joke that I am "MAJ, Junior" or that she is "The Original MAJ." And so when I signed back up for Twitter a few years ago, mostly as an outlet for my workout tracking and to follow random colleges and celebs, that became my screen name. "The Original MAJ" is both a reference to the idea that we are all originals and a nod to my mom. So when I set up a Facebook fan page for my workout mis/adventures, I decided it was fitting for the address to be www.facebook.com/theoriginalmaj

I am enjoying a few more weeks of sporadic workouts here and there, and then in January the training for the 2012 TOUR DE MOM begins.

The Original MAJ rides again.

Hobby vs. Lifestyle vs. Obsession: Towards a Model of Balance

2011-12-19T18:02:00.000-05:00

I was reflecting today on how many different hobbies I've had over the years and how many have actually stuck.

Triathlon is the only one that really has.

Maybe this is because triathlon teaches me something new about life every single day.

It seems that people move through levels of engagment with sports like triathlon. There are 3 distinct phases: hobby, lifestyle, and obsession. All of us flirt with one of these 3 stages during our training. We don't always go from one to another - we often hop back and forth.

When most people begin doing triathlons or marathons or cycling events, it is just a fun new hobby. It may or may not stick; they may or may not train consistently. My first two years of racing, the sports were absolutely just a hobby for me. The rest of my life continued and even took over much of the time. Training was not a priority. I knew I needed to do it to PR, but that didn't push me too hard to do it. If I missed a workout, I honestly didn't give a shit.

As the years wore on, I had a lot of tough stuff going on in my life, but I clung to training and racing like my life depended on it, even though I neglected some other priorites to do so. I hadn't found a healthy balance; I didn't realize that sometimes you don't need to (or shouldn't even try to) train. At this point, it was more like an obsession.

I realized when I was making my Christmas candy (and checking the scale to make sure my holiday transgressions and lighter workout schedule haven't sent it through the roof) that I have finally reached that glorious balance where my training and racing is my lifestyle. Going back to traditions, and to the holidays (hell, it's that time of year), one of my traditions is going for a run or bike ride on holidays. Easter, Thanksgving, and Christmas are my 3 big fitness holidays - I will spend my time outside, thinking of what the holiday means to me, reflecting on how grateful and happy I am to be alive and active and healthy. It is something I like doing. It doesn't matter if I'm training for anything.

The nice thing about this is, I never have to worry about "starting over" if something else in my life needs to take priority because I'm so consistent with my workouts that it never becomes a matter of "all or nothing." I won't have a huge "ohmyGodIgainedtenpoundsovertheholidays" moment - but I also won't start eating cheeseburgers and sitting on the couch all day. My sport is just something that keeps me happy and healthy. And that's exactly why I will work to make sure I have the balance I need to keep my lifestyle from becoming just a hobby or an obession.

Enjoy your holiday week and wherever it takes you.

The Week in Song Lyrics, 12/18/11

2011-12-18T18:01:00.005-05:00

Caramel fudge

My research proposal is wrapped and drops Wednesday, and all my students are safely on winter break on all 3 campuses, so today I found myself with some free time - true, unplanned free time for the first time in MONTHS. I used this free time to 1)ride 40 miles with a group of guys that, from time to time, whips my ass and 2)make pounds and pounds of Christmas candy to share.

As I toiled over stove and freezer, I had a couple observations brought to me only by the labor and goodness of pecan divinity, buckeyes, dark chocolate caramel nut fudge, and rumballs (well, Crown Royal whiskey balls - I had no rum).

THING the FIRST

Divinity

The first realization: I'm a huge fan of tradition.

How this realization occurred: the B requested the buckeyes. Well, we don't make those in my family during Christmas. We make fudge and rumballs and divinity (a very Southern confection made of egg whites, Karo brand corn syrup (two syllables, KAY-Row) and pecans (two syllables, PEE-cans - not to be confused with pe-CAHNS)).

We don't make buckeyes.

Buckeyes

He requested them, so I obliged - but grudgingly. Because, as I already mentioned, we don't make those in my family. It isn't our tradition.

Since I was a kid, I have been fascinated by the richness and mystery of traditions. Raised Protestant, I was intrigued by Catholicism and its lovely, enigmatic rituals. As a young adult, I would ask my mom to make the same favorites, or ask for the same Christmas eve routine, or even suggest we start new traditions, to carry on year after year.

Rum (whiskey)balls

Well starting this week, I'm going to have a new bloggie tradition. Since some kind of song is constantly playing in my head, I'm going to recap weeks or months with song lyrics that outlined the overall theme. I used to do this from time to time because, during really long runs, I often get a song stuck in my head.

THING the SECOND
"Relaxing" and resting mean something different to everyone. To me, a relaxing day could be filled with running errands, folding laundry, or reading research or a magazine I hadn't had the chance to read. It doesn't have to, and honestly could never be, just sitting around doing nothing or reading all day. To me, "relaxing" is any free time spent doing whatever I want to do without having to be on anyone else's schedule (or even my own). Sometimes, to me, relaxing is putting all my laundry away. Nothing is more peaceful and tranquil to me than an organized house.

My buddy Nate often tells me that I'm not relaxing if I'm still doing something. To me relaxing doesn't mean the absence of activity; rather, it is the presence of activity I enjoy for that activity's sake - not for a paycheck, or a deadline, or a task, or a chore.

So, considering I will have a stable schedule and relaxing fortnight ahead, I give you the lyrics that convey the ambiance of the week ending 12/18/11:

Relax, don't do it
When you wanna go to it
-Frankie Goes to Hollywod, Relax

Laid back . . .
With my mind on my money and my money on my mind
Snoop Doggy Dogg, Gin and Juice

Tour de Mom

2011-12-16T18:19:00.001-05:00

Mom and I at the highest point of Alabama

My parents are my best friends. I feel really, really fortunate to say that. While we drive each other batty (as all families tend to do), I have always been able to tell my parents anything. And we always have fun whenever we are together. No matter what endeavor I undertook, they were always supportive; whether that was a PhD application, a Half Ironman, or (when I was younger) needing a ride home from somewhere.

It's hard for me to think about this, but my parents are in their mid- and late-60's now (Daddy will be 70 this coming March. They are so much fun, so active, and so young at heart that most people assume they are a good ten years younger than they are. It is a nonstop laugh-fest when you are around my parents. Everything is an excuse to smile, chuckle, chortle, guffaw, giggle, hoot, or grin.

Mom celebrating my 43-minute PR with me at the
Savannah Marathon - I think she was as happy as I was!

I want to be like them if I grow up.

This year, as part of my training for Florida Half Ironman 2012, I am doing the 50-mile ride for the Tour de Cure. I am also raising funds for the American Diabetes Association. The Tour de Cure will be my main 2012 fundraiser.

One of the reasons I pick TDC over and over is that my mom was diagnosed with Type II diabetes in her forties. There was a big lifestyle change for my family when she was diagnosed; while we had always eaten plenty of vegetables, rarely ate fried food, and as kids we were limited to one "treat" (usually a snack food or a sweet) a day, managing her diabetes required more intense work. We made a switch to a primarily whole-grain, vegetarian diet - for one thing - and we started incorporating physical activity almost every day of the week.

From then until just a few years ago, my mom cycled, swam or walked 5-6 days a week for about an hour a day. Now, even in her mid-60's, my mom still walks or hikes an hour a day 5-6 days a week. She still eats a diet that is high in whole grains, fresh vegetables and good fats. She still keeps a close eye on her blood glucose and tries to find healthy variations of old family recipes and favorite treats - but she still finds a way to have her treats and keep her diet balanced.

My parents are my healthy lifestyle role models. The biggest reason they look and act so young is that they keep moving, they eat to live, and they have positive outlooks on life.

So this year I am calling my 2012 Tour de Cure the Tour de Mom. I'll be riding and raising funds in honor of the person who taught me how important it is to get the most out of life.

Thanks for everything! Love you, Mom!

If you'd like to join me, please do. I am proud to raise funds to help others learn how to manage and understand their disease, like my Mom did.
http://main.diabetes.org/goto/megganann

The Sunday Ride I Crush Them

2011-12-14T10:00:00.000-05:00

If you haven't already, you may want to watch this topical viral video before proceeding. It will lend some context.

I don’t consider myself a particularly fast or noteworthy athlete, so you’d never catch me bragging effusively like this guy about ludicrous speed and/or blatant disregard for safety and guidelines. But something happened to me today (for the very first time) that made me think of this video.

I walked into the shop for the Wednesday morning ride and discovered I was the only girl. This isn't uncommon since cycling is a male-dominated sport. I was tired and, to be honest, I hadn't eaten a "gonna have a hard workout to fuel" kind of dinner the night before, so I really wanted to just hang out in the back and cruise. Plus, I've had the Post-Race Lazies (PRL) for a while now. (PRL is when you end your race program or training season and you are so over working hard all year that you don't want to do anything besides maintain.)

Out of nowhere, the guy who runs the store said, “Hey, take it easy on them today, MAJ.”

I looked around to make sure he was talking to me, Ms. Post-Race-Lazies-Plus-I’m-Worried-The-Fast-People-Will-Drop-Me-So-I-Ride-In-the-Back.

He was, in fact, talking to me. “I heard you crushed them on the Sunday ride,” he continued.

(Now you know why I made you watch the video)

I seriously had to stifle a laugh because "crushing them" is SO not my style. "I-I guess that’s good?” I stammered.

“It is,” he said. “Not good for the guys who got chicked, but good for you.”

I was still looking around like there was someone behind me. On one hand I was laughing because he said "chicked." On the other hand, I was thinking Crap, now everyone is going to expect me to be fast. I can’t hide in the back and make this a recovery ride like I was planning.

But you know what happened? I rode with the front group instead of the back group. And the first part of the ride was actually really easy. I got pooped and dropped back a little at the end, but the point was I didn't take the easy way out. I decided, if someone - even jokingly - thinks I'm capable of being a strong athlete, it will make me work that much harder to make it a reality.

Even if I'm not exactly "crushing them."

New Year, New Dragons

2011-12-11T17:17:00.001-05:00

I love the idea of a gorgeous, fresh, shiny, New Year; of a chance to start all over again. The seasons, the earth, and many of our plans and hopes are renewed. And I also love New Year's Resolutions (although, as I've mentioned, I like to make them around my birthday, since that's when my literal life-renewal takes place.) I have carried many of my Resolutions with me from year to year, hoping to finally conquer them when the calendar resets.

As I was planning my training schedule for the year, I assumed (naturally) that the toughest decision would be which crit to do. I've been dying to try my hand at cycle races for a few months now, and criterium races are this fascinating combination of technical, exhilarating and terrifying: speed, corners, accelerations, and crowds. Oh, my.

Then my 2012 training planning was interrupted when I learned that Florida Half Ironman changed locations. This seemingly tiny detail instantly jumped ahead of my venture into the terrixciting world of the crit.

I have made it very clear that I don't care for Disney races for a myriad of reasons: they're almost exclusively parking lots and highways, there aren't local supporters or flavor, Disney doesn't let you into the parks after the race, and they're usually overcrowded and overpriced. Give me a little local city race any day. So I'm glad to hear that Haines City will now host the race. The bike course will be more challenging, but the run and swim at Florida 70.3's old location were some of the worst. Plus, now people will stop referring to it as "The Disney Half Ironman." Many native Floridians (we DO exist!) spend a lot of time and energy trying to get people from other parts of the country understand that Mickey Mouse is not the only (OR most important) resident of the state.

But this change will cause something that has never occurred in my entire training history:I will finally leave a course unconquered.

Yay, no more "Disney Half Ironman"

Since I started racing in 2006, I've had a handful of DNS races and fewer DNFs; but I NEVER allow a course to beat me, so I've returned to every single course that has DNF'd me and whip its ass, even if it takes me a few years to get back. Well, this was going to be my year for Florida 70.3 In 2008, thanks to nutrition mysteries, inexperience, and too much stress in other parts of my life, I was too slow to finish the run course before the cutoff, despite ending the swim and bike in plenty of time. Now with the course moved, the chance to truly finish it is gone for good. Yes, it will be the same race in name and cost and sponsorship, but it won't be the dragon I've been longing to slay for almost 4 years.

And then it occurred to me that training has taught me yet another interesting life lesson: not all unfinished business can be finished. In fact, sometimes it shouldn't. Sometimes it should be cleared out to make room. As the New Year's saying goes - out with the old, in with the new.

So instead of recycling all my unfinished goals from year to year, I've decided I'm going to make a conscious effort to revise and replace the ones that are getting in the way of forward motion.

Forward toward new goals, new dreams, new plans, new schemes and - yes, of course - new dragons.

Jingle All the Way

2011-12-11T16:47:00.000-05:00

As politically incorrect as some may consider it, I always love the sound of the words Merry Christmas. I'm sure this is partly because I was raised celebrating Christmas, but it's also because I love the word merry. Merry is so much fun to say; it's cheerier than happy, spunkier than cheerful and lighter than joyous.

It's been a little tough to be merry so far this Christmas. I have had a heavy heart, a heavy schedule, and a light wallet.

Saturday was the New Hope for Kids Holiday Ride, and a bunch of us got together and decorated our bikes. There were lights, tiny trees, musical stuffed Santas, garland - you name it! The ride took us about 9 miles through some local neighborhoods, stopping a little past halfway for cookies and drinks. The best part? The $10 ticket went to the foundation, which helps ill children and grieving children deal with their loss or their illness.

Christmas is one of my favorite times of year. My birthday starts it, and the Super Bowl ends it, but the holidays are so merry and festive, filled with decorating and tasty delights and friends and family. When my parents, who are my best friends, move out of state, a lot of my traditions changed: we used to go see Christmas lights, and do a "friends" party Christmas Eve and a "family" event Christmas Day. We really take for granted how nice it is to have our loved ones nearby until they're gone.

I've only been away from my parents one Christmas in my entire life. So this will be my second. And it makes me very sad. I wasn't really looking forward to Christmas this year the way I usually do.

Riding through the neighborhoods with friends old and new, taking in the Christmas lights, laughing and singing, and yelling Merry Christmas as we rode along, made me feel like, not only did I help out the kids by contributing to the ride, they also helped me.

Maybe it will be a Merry one after all.

Whatever you celebrate, enjoy.

Strong is the New Skinny

2011-12-05T08:57:00.001-05:00

The Devil

If you've never been overweight, I'll let you in on a little secret: when you're overweight, the camera is your worst enemy. And if your peers are a good bit lighter than you, they're going to want to break it out for every occassion. Sure, you've got to worry about what everyone worries about - lighting, the right angle for your nose, closing your eyes as the flash goes off, and the camera adding 10 pounds. But when you're already more than 10 pounds heavier than most everyone in the picture, that camera may as well add 100.

When I first started racing, I was far into the Athena category, and around the time of thyroidectomy, I was the heaviest I've ever been. Photos were excruciating for me. I would avoid them at all costs.

Except race photos.

I knew that, no matter how heavy I felt or looked, those photos proved that I was there, doing something healthy and physicially challenging. They proved that, while I wasn't skinny, I was certainly strong.

First time shooting a rifle . . . I even
impressed the hunters

Now, I'm not saying I liked the way I looked in them. There are race photos I can't stand to see, just like any other photo, because I have jowls, or 6 fat rolls, or an absurd expression on my face (and, as I've said before, no one looks good in spandex). And, even though I wasn't going out of my way to avoid them, I still looked at them after races and thought, damn. I'm still the fat girl.

Since I have been healthier and training more regularly, and since my thyroid medicine has gotten adjusted, I've lost nearly 30 pounds and I'm only 15 or so from my "normal" weight. But it has happened so slowly - taking over a year and a half - that I haven't even remotely adjusted to being smaller. I still stand next to women who are within my clothing size or weight, wishing I was as small as they are; I still go into stores and try on jeans that are 2 sizes too big before I realize how small I am; and I am still afraid to see photos of myself after they're taken.

Does this outfit make my STRONG look big?!?!

Well, something phenomenal has happened over the last few months in particular: even though I cringed thinking of how they would come out when they were taken, when I actually look back at my photos, I love them. All of them. Even the ones with the goofy faces or angles don't worry me; they make me laugh and I delete them, but they don't make me curl into the fetal position or cower in fear like nearly every picture of myself used to do.

This isn't just because I've lost weight; yes, I am inevitably smaller in those pictures than I expected myself to be, and I'm still not used to that. I'm still heavier or "thicker" than a good majority of my friends. I'm still not what a lot of my male peers consider "hot."

And you know what? I don't give a flying damn.

My eyes are half closed and I look bald
BUT I LOOK TOUGH AS HELL

No, the reason I like myself in pictures - particularly race-day shots - is because I can finally see that my Strong outweighs anything else on me. And your Strong, unlike your butt or thighs, should always be as big as possible.

This weekend some of the race crowd was holding up motivational signs as they cheered us on. One of them said something like "Strong is the New Skinny!"

I couldn't agree more.

Go Hard or Go Home: The OUC Half Marathon 2011 Race Report . . . Oh The Places You'll Go Revisited

2011-12-04T22:38:00.001-05:00

The Team Minus 1

Congratulations!

Today is your day.
... You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.

You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

-Dr. Suess, c. 1990

You can't tell it by looking at me in this picture, but I felt completely unprepared for OUC this year. I love the race, and it was my 5th running of this half marathon, and I thought it would be fun to race with friends, but I felt like I was just tired and ready for the off-season to start already.

I have a lot of personal stuff going on that it is difficult to discuss (I have learned the troubles of both being too honest and disguising details to be more politicially correct or guarded). In addition to that, students on one of my campuses are starting class tomorrow while students on the other 2 are ending them. This is usually the point of a term where I transition from grading assignments to my own research and professional development.

So, I wasn't really ready.

But, I strapped on my shoes and employed a 3-part strategy:

First third in zone 1 or low 2
Second third in zone 2 or low 3
Final third: GO HARD OR GO HOME
ALSO: whatever you do, don't puke. (Ok, so that's FOUR steps. Sue me.)

Me and new running buddy Mary

This sounds crazy, but remember I'm the girl that never trained to push myself. It's used to be too tough to do that with all my physical challenegs. So I've really learned how to do that this last year. Whenever I felt tired, I reminded myself: you haven't puked or come remotely close, so obviously you're not pushing too hard.

I went hard. And then I went to work (not home) . . . with a 3-minute PR. Best time for the half marathon yet.

My partner in crime, Sharon

And now, ladies and gents, I FINALLY close the IronMAJ, the International Month of Fabulousness, AND the 2011 Race Season.

Goals for Next Year:

Run a mid-20-minute 5k
Run a low-2-hour half marathon
Do a crit
Finish a 70.3
Do either NYC or MCM in fall
Maybe another century? We'll see.

I am signed up for the 2012 Tour De Cure 50 or 75 mile ride on March 28, for which I am also raising funds for the American Diabetes Association. But for now, I get to relax a bit.

I super-<3 BeginnerTriathlete and my coaching team. I have mentioned before that I can't believe how lucky I was to find coaches so amazing that actually work for my budget. Today Julia really made me realize how important it is to stay positive about small things in all aspects of my life every single day. So, in the next coming days, you're probably going to see more from me about keeping it together than training.

You may remember me saying this in another incarnation . .

Being satisifed in life is about more than just finding what you like and doing it. It's remembering that every single step you take is a step forward, and that every step forward, no matter how miniscule, moves you toward known and unknown goals. The second you realize that every step is positive forward motion, the less your tasks feel like to-dos and the more they feel like want-to-dos. And, if no matter how hard you try, they still feel like TO-DO's, then maybe you need to revise your goals.

Thanks, Julia, for the reminder.

This is the beginning of a lifelong journey. This is the rebirth of a future stronger, and brighter, and more promising, than anything I have ever had or imagined having.

There will be still be challenges;I will still be alone at times. I'll still fail; I'll still falter. I'll still face dark times, and anger, and tears, and sadness. But I will face it all knowing how very far I've come.

And oh, the places I'll go.

It's Never Too Late to Be Who You Might Have Been

2011-11-29T16:54:00.001-05:00

Today is my 32nd birthday. Around 2pm on November 29, 1979, I began my life on earth.

Yes, I just admitted my real age.

And you know what? I could not honestly give less of a shit.

I once adopted the philo start lying about your age while you’re young so no one will know any better by the time you retire. Now I embrace it: the older I get, the wiser I get. The more aware I am of what I want. The more self-aware and efficacious I’ve become.

I like myself at 32 WAY more than I ever liked me at 22.

I went for a birthday run this morning; we’d just gotten a cold front. (The rest of the world would call it a warm front, but here in Florida, where even the displaced tri-staters can’t handle anything below 80, a cold front is less than 70 degrees and 75% humidity). The air was fresh, uncontaminated by its characteristic stifling humidity. My lungs welcomed the cool, clean breaths. My legs were full of energy and my heart was full of gratitude. The sun even had an extra twinkle, as if it knew this was My Day.

As my perky, peppy shadow bounced along the ground in front of me, its wavy ponytail swinging merrily, I silently admonished myself. I have been a major Grouch this week. I really need to snap out of it. (I actually wore an Oscar tee-shirt over the weekend to express my sentiments.)

You see, I am not an inherently negative person. I’m blindly (even stupidly) optimistic.

And that is exactly why I find depression so unsettling.

Certainly, as my health has improved, I have become more resilient. The good thing about having almost everything wrong with me is that there’s not a whole lot worse it can get. I’ve almost eradicated my tendency to completely shut down when I get overwhelmed. And that isn’t because life’s been easier on me; while I have fewer major traumatic or dramatic incidents occurring daily, I still have a lot of obstacles to tackle. No, it’s because I have simply learned to deal.

I talk a lot about struggling not to feel like a “sick” person. And I love what Wes told me: feeling defeated isn’t the same as being defeated. I used to feel that they were one and the same. Now I can recognize those feelings of defeat and, within a short amount of time, interpret them as a sign to buckle down and work even harder towards my goals.

Because you know what? I don’t like being beaten.

Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

My life can be utter chaos. When I read my friend Heather’s blog yesterday, it really resonated with me: everyone’s life is turbulent, no matter what we’re going through. Some of us are balancing raising children with managing households; some of us are trying to blend careers or education or medical problems (or all of it) with relationships; and some of us are just trying to make sense of it all. The important part is in the synthesis of Heather and Wes’s ideas: it is all what you make of it.

What upset me so much about losing the money that I lost to Cigna this year is not that I lost it. Eventually, I will save back up and forget the money even existed. What upset me was that it reminded me how far I still have to go; it frightened me to think I may never be anything more than what I am right now. Or worse, that I might have even farther yet to fall. Because this is not who I want to end up. I want to be something so much bigger and better.

When I was younger, I used to believe you could be anything you wanted to be. All you had to do is decide it and commit to it, and little by little, day by day, you would become it. When you’re an adult, that sort of blind optimism is harder to come by.

From now on, I’m going to look at my birthday as a time to re-evaluate my goals and plans and make major steps forward. My motto for my 32nd year is going to paraphrase George Eliot: it’s never too late to be the person you always wanted to be.

Get ready, 2012. I’ve got a lot to do before this year is over.

Tryingtobethankfulgiving 2011

2011-11-27T18:30:00.001-05:00

It's the most wonderful time of the year . . . .

And it's time to be thankful for the things we have.

In case you didn't notice, I make a huge deal out of my birthday every year. I often say that I have gotten better as I have gotten older; that I look forward to my 40s now that I've realized how great my 30s are. But it's also because my best friend's birthday is November 9th and mine is the 29th; so, for years we have just sprinkled our mutual celebrations across the month.

And then Thanksgiving comes, with inevitable feasts and family gatherings, and we just continue celebrating We have taken impromptu road trips, planned Mexican beach vacations and held day-after-Thanksgiving-Christmas-tree-decoration-parties.

We call it the International Month of Fabulousness.

But this year, I have a confession to make.

I'm not feeling fabulous.

I'm going to warn you:this is a bit bitter, and more than a bit angry, but it is also a bit overdue.

I found out today, after 2 years of contributing hundreds of dollars to my Cigna Flexible Spending Account, that the type of account I have doesn't cover anything but vision and dental. Well, this year I didn't have to buy new glasses or contacts because my eyeglass prescription didn't change. I did, however, spend thousands on medical expenses and desperately needed that money in order to be able to do basic things like buy makeup, pay my cell phone bill, etc.

However, they will keep every penny of that because I did not spend it on glasses or dental, and did not understand that this was all the account was good for.

Now, I am nothing if not resourceful. I also have a Health Savings Account with them, and I asked to transfer that money to my HSA.

That's not allowed.

So Cigna will keep my hundreds. And I will be left scrambling to make up for that loss for the next few months.

In a typical year, I rack up anywhere from 10-15% of my income in medical expenses - thousands - between tests, doctor visits, and treatments.  I make more than poverty level but way less than a middle class income.  Yes, my cancer is a big part of my medical expenses, but I also struggle with handfuls of other medical issues, and I have not even GONE to the doctor for two of my latest problems because the nearly-$100-a-doctor copay, plus medications, potential tests, treatments, etc. are so daunting.

I've been losing weight nonstop since my thyroid medication was tweaked, but I can't afford to buy myself much to replace the decaying proper-sized clothing I have had for the past 10 years (since I was last at my normal size several years ago) and my few pieces of newer, grossly oversized clothing can't be replaced, either.  I am already trying my best to recover financially by budgeting carefully and scrounging to put every penny I can in a savings, health savings, retirement, or some sort of conservative investment. I already need to replace things I use daily. I save for weeks or months to replace them. And then this happens.

And moreover, I try to do good for myself and others. I eat well. I exercise. I raise money for charities and contribute to my community. I vote. I really, really try to pay my medical bills, although some of them are so high I don't know how I ever will. I am trying to go to grad school. I do nice things for others. I work 50-70 hours a week.

It just doesn't seem fair.

Racing and training for races, I have said many times, is all that keeps me fit and sane. It is also a big part of being able to lose weight without a thyroid. Yet it is often difficult for me.

I train alongside people who make 2 and 3 times what I make and, I have to be honest: I struggle not to feel like a fraud as I ride along on my 4-year-old bargain bike chatting about the usual things - how to improve, not bonk, etc. - and then the inevitable suggestions that all require me to spend money (get this special kind of coach/bike/wheel/shoe/shirt/headphone/etc.) While many of them are easily shelling out $50 here, even $1000 there, on new equipment, the light at the end of the tunnel comes for me only when I have that few extra, non-saved, non-bill-related pennies that I can scrape together for used equipment that I have needed for months or years, when I can afford a race entry fee, or a relative or the B buys me one as a gift.

It takes a lot of emotional energy to pretend this isn't hard. And yet, somehow, I get up with a smile on my face every day and love my life, with its tattered clothes and nearly-empty bank account and virtually no hope for relief anywhere in the future.

Then something like this comes along and sets me back further.

Thanks to my own misunderstanding, and their ridiculously strict policies, I won't even be able to afford to buy Christmas gifts this year, or replace my barely-functioning phone.

I know lots of people with cancer. I know lots of their families lost jobs when they were diagnosed. Groups of their friends, accquaintances, even people who didn't even KNOW them banded together to raise THOUSANDS of dollars for them, take them to doctor's appointments, bake them cookies, give their husbands odd jobs to make the family extra cash. Yet when I had cancer, all in the same 2 years that I got divorced, had severe medical complications, lost my job, lost my house, lost my car (I even made a mistake on my taxes because of my severe psycholgical distress and the IRS took back every penny of the unemployment I'd earned that year because of it) - there were no benefits held in my name. While 1 or 2 of my closest friends were sympathetic with texts and phone calls, no one rushed to my aid.

My only option was complete financial ruin.

Cigna, and our nation's lovely government, I'd like to thank you both from the bottom of my improperly-beating heart for supplementing the continuation of that ruin, bit by bit, every day.

Thanks for the vent.  I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

I Just Kept Running like Gump - The 2011 Rock'n'Roll Savannah AND IronMAJ FINISH Race Report

2011-11-08T10:28:00.002-05:00

IronMAJ

If you haven't guessed by now, the IronMAJ is over. Complete. Kaput. Finished.

I won.

Savannah

I mean "I won," not just in the sense that I finished, but in the sense that I somehow managed to rack up a 43-minute PR at my second marathon of the year, even after century training and iron-distance swim training for months.

But first, let's begin at the beginning.

PACKING LIGHT and TYPE A-NESS

Before this race even started, there were a lot of things going on in my life that suggested I wouldn't be able to perform well. The drive from Orlando to Savannah was miserable - for the last few weeks, I've been having debilitating bouts of fatigue and dizziness from my vertigo and migraines. I was so exhausted on Friday that I had to nap twice, once during the drive when I had to turn the wheel over to Blake. I am not saying that I was sleepy, or tired. No, I was physically incapable of operating a vehicle. And that was scary - how the hell was I going to run 26.2 miles in that condition?!!?

Savannah

Once we arrived in Savannah, we realized that the city hadn't prepared for the 23,000 participants flooding its convention center, and we spent almost an hour just getting to packet pickup (let alone perusing the expo and getting the packet itself). Dinner was delayed, and I was setting out my race gear with the fear of getting to bed extremely late. Nothing was running by my tightly organized plan.

That is where the wheels usually fall off the wagon for me. My type A-ness takes over and I flip out, certain that impending disaster is indicated by the disorganization and chaos around me.

Instead, this is where I let go. I looked at B, looked at the race gear, and said "You know what. Tomorrow is going to go the way it is going to go regardless of how much I freak out about it tonight."

Me and the B

So I stopped freaking out.

I Couldn't Stop Smiling

It was a good thing, because the buses taking us to the start line were also not as organized as they could have been, and I didn't get to the start line until 51 minutes after the race had started. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one. Everyone had gotten there at the wrong time, so instead of sending us out by projected finish times, they sent us off by crowds as we arrived.

I Couldn't Stop Smiling

Even with this minor setback, I couldn't stop smiling. I mean, I was smiling SO HARD when I asked the B to snap this pic of me with his phone that I was almost in tears. I was about to DO this Damn Thing. Finish the IronMAJ. Rock'n'Roll Savannah. Go into the off season. And PR. By how much, I wasn't sure. And when I looked ahead on the Bay Street bridge at mile 2 and saw the wave of people so deep that it looked like they weren't even moving ahead of me, I did momentarily freak out that I'd have to slow down a lot. But they were moving - there were just oceans of them - and at that moment I felt like a part of something real, amazing, and so much bigger than me. So I kept smiling.

Somewhere around mile 8

I had divided my race into 3rds by 8.7-mile section. My strategy was to run each section progressively harder by heart rate zone, with an extremely conservative first 2/3 pace. This was difficult and frightening, because I kept feeling like I could be pushing so much harder, and every time I passed a milestone (5k, 5mile, etc) I looked down at my Garmin and thought "Oh my God, I'm going to run this slower than ever!"

But, when I realized that my Garmin was repeatedly showing me a pace almost 2 minutes per mile faster than I ran New Orleans, and when I realized how great I was feeling, I just kept smiling. And running.

AMAZING City

What a charming city. It is ironic that I chose this as my second marathon, since it is the sister city to New Orleans, where I ran my first. Both courses were incredibly flat and fast, even flatter and faster than Orlando, which is damn near below sea level.

The spectators were AMAZING. Everyone was out in their yards, on the streets, yelling "good morning!" My morale was sky-high through the first third of the race. Bands were great, weather was perfect, and I felt amazing. I stopped around mile 10 for the porta-potty - shortest line I had seen all race - and had a great conversation with some locals.

Water, water everywhere

There was another problem, though . . . almost every station was out of Cytomax. I got water at every stop and had salt pills, so hydration wasn't an issue. What was an issue, however, was calories. I was packing it super light with only 2 <200-calorie packs of Honey Stinger chews. And in the backof my head I found myself wondering, how the hell am I going to run 26.2 miles on less than 400 calories of drink and chews?

But I made like Forrest Gump and just kept running.

I pushed back the nagging thought that I may bonk soon. I was nearing my final third and I still felt amazing. It was hard to hold back, but I had so much left to give, so I played it safe and followed my strategy.

If I bring this home strong, I can finish in 5:50 or less.

Don't Apologize; Your Friends Don't Need it and Your Enemies Won't Believe It

We all know that I'm a philosophizing marathoner. Around the tree-lined streets of Daffin Park we went, and a lady passed between me and a fellow marathoner abruptly. "I'm sorry," she called as she went by. The male marathoner responded with something I will never forget: "Don't apologize. Your friends don't need it and your enemies won't believe it."

Huh. He is kind of right, I thought. There's no need to apologize for yourself if you're really not doing anything wrong. Wonder how my life would change if I stopped apologizing for being who I am?

I kept smiling. By now it was mile 15 or 16. And when I saw the entrance to "Optimist Park" in front of me, I decided to quit worrying about calories. "The question is not whether you're going to finish this, IronMAJ," I thought to myself (and may have muttered outloud). "The question is not whether you are going to PR. The question is how bad do you want it?"

At this point I realized that. not only was I going to break 6 hours, I was going to do it feeling GREAT, and by a LOT.

If I bring this home strong, I can finish in 5:40 or less.

I texted B that I was on the final third and stopping for a potty break again. I had been telling myself all race that I'd get to turn it loose eventually, but now it really was just about time to turn it loose up in this bitch.

Turn it Loose

At this point of a marathon I'm usually dying. There are 10 miles left to run. People around me are starting to walk, bonk, and fade.

But I still felt like I owned the world.

I looked down at my Garmin again and realized I was no longer running way slower than I hoped, but instead I was lighting the soles of my shoes on fire. I was not even at 4 hours, and mile 18 was gone. This was faster than my training runs and I had way more OOMPH left in me. It was time for me to stop holding back and go into my final-third strategy of the race and I was already so quick and felt so good. I couldn't believe it.

I just kept running. I did realize my muscles were fatigued, but I had so much more to give the race. I never stopped unless the stops were planned. I pushed my pace up another minute per mile and thought, at mile 20 if I am still strong I can run the final 10k near lactate threshold.

If I bring this home strong, I can finish in 5:30.

Mile 20 came quickly, and I decided to hold off until 23-24 to hit my highest heart rate zone, but I was still sailing past people who were stopping to walk, and I was still getting faster. I had started the race at an almost 13-minute pace and I was now logging something like an 11 or 11:30.

Last 200 yards

I saw the 40k mark and shook my head - no way could you get me to do an ultramarathon. And, just then, the blister that always appears on my left pinky toe POPPED ceremoniously. This happened in New Orleans, but back around mile 20-22. Of course, I was much slower in New Orleans, so I was already at mile 25+ here in Savannah. I can't begin to describe the pain to you, but I didn't stop. I let myself slow to 12/mile to absorb the pain, and then when I saw the 26-mile marker I was so happy I didn't care any more.

My aunt cheeering for me at the finish

So I just kept running.

I looked down at my watch. If I brought this in strong, I was going to be in the 5:30s with no problem. And I STILL COULDN'T STOP SMILING.

So that's exactly what I did, and crossed the line in 5:35:58, with the freshest legs I've ever had during a marathon, and - no doubt - the biggest smile.

So now I have to design myself an IronMAJ medal with a little elephant and a MAJ-dot instead of an M-Dot.

Ok, so maybe I won't do that. Maybe I'll just go into the off-season with a giant smile on my face.

Florida 70.3 has no idea what's headed its way this coming May.

Bag Lady

2011-10-30T14:40:00.000-04:00

Bag lady, you gon' hurt your back
Draggin' all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold onto
Is you, is you, is you
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
I said
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
One day, all them bags gon' get in your way
So
Pack light . . .

(Erykah Badu, Bag Lady)

There's something to be said for packing light. (Of course, I doubt Erykah Badu was thinking about marathon racing when she recorded the song.) There's less to worry about. There's less chafing. There's less to lose.

I've always hated carrying and wearing a lot of junk; that's why I dress so light for races with 28-degree weather. But nutrition and health supplies were a different story. I needed a pack of chews per hour, ibuprofen, my inhaler, an armband with my cell phone. At the beginning of a race, it was always a struggle to find a place to stick the bags of chews so they wouldn't bounce uproariously across my back and ass. I almost felt like I had to wear a second bra for my bouncing back-boobs.

Another line in the Badu song says, "bag lady, you gon' miss your bus. You can't hurrry up - 'cause you got too much stuff."

And that's one of the reasons that things are a lot different this time. I want to go faster. I want to learn how to really race a marathon.

So this is going to be the lightest I've ever traveled on marathon day. I may leave my inhaler in my emergency bag with the B, because the highs that day are in the 70's, and I'm not likely to have an attack. I don't need many chews because I've been training on Cytomax, water, and salt pills (Cytomax is on the course, and I never even used a full pack of chews on an 18-mile run). And I am debating leaving my phone behind, as well.

But the biggest benefit of training like this has nothing to do with speed. Almost every time I've gone out to run the last few weeks, I have felt so . . .well . . . free. I want to feel that way all marathon long.

Unlike racing, I am actually comfortable padding my days with more STUFF. More to do, more to say, more to wear, more to think, more to feel, more to eat.

Oh, crap - I am just like the girl Badu wrote that song about.
This got me thinking: how free would I feel if I could learn to pack light? To enjoy everything else in my life the way I enjoy running, riding, and swimming - just for what it is? to be completely involved in the moment - the sun (or rain), the wind, the sky, the ground, the feeling of the keys under my fingers or the fan on my back - how free would that feel?

I have been completely saturated with the stress of all the different duties I've adopted lately as grad school approaches. It has made me feel overwhelmed and insecure at times. I have to force myself to remember that it's all what I want to do. But the frustration and fear that I won't - or can't - do it still creeps in from time to time.

"Girl, I know
sometimes it's hard ,and you can't let go . . ."

The point of Badu's song is simple and obvious: carrying around all your old crap keeps you from moving forward. I can do that in a marathon, and gladly, to endure 26.2 miles of discomfort - with a smile. It's time to do it in my real life, too.

So here's to moving forward.

Here's to packing light.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Seats

2011-10-29T23:54:00.000-04:00

As you may know, I was rudely and intimately acquainted with the horror of the severe saddle sore this fall. I spent my final weeks of century training riding around feeling like I had a golf ball in my shorts. (Which reminds me - if you haven't ever seen it, you have to read this graphic but hilarious dissertation on saddle sores over at Fat Cyclist's blog.) Afterwards, I would sit on donut cushions and lay in the most unthinkably bizarre positions just to keep from crying. (Think: giving birth to an alien baby. Yeah, it was that bad.)

The Cobb V-Flow Plus was my savior. The seat wasn't exactly new - it came from a good friend and training partner who realized she had a few unused saddles in her garage. If she had not happened to have 2 unused saddles in her garage, I would never have figured out my situation, and may not been able to complete the century. And if she hadn't struggled with the same issues during her previous century training, she never would have had the sadlles. She got rid of something she wasn't using, and I was able to afford good gear.

A couple days ago, she asked if I would return the second saddle that I was not using - she had talked to someone else suffering from the same issues. Without even thinking twice, I tossed in my
Specailized Jett saddle. Although it was 100% the wrong saddle for me - like the Cobb was for my friend - it is still a highly-rated carbon fiber saddle, and I hoped there was a chance someone else could get some use out of it.

Then recently one of the coaches helped to collect some gently used gear for one of the new gals who was, like me, a "starving college student." We all pitched in and soon we had her set with shoes, a tri outfit, and even some jerseys.

Sometimes people will ask me why do you go out of your way to do extra for others? The answer is simple: I really do believe it comes back to you. Whether it comes back when your other friend just happens to have a well-cared-for 305 that she wasn't using and your old Polar became inadequate for long runs, or whether it comes back to you in the form of some small happiness in sharing, or whether it comes back to you 20 years down the road in some way you never anticipated - it comes back. I have made my share of mistakes over the years, but even those I don't hesitate to try and make right.

It always comes back.

Last year, I was to fortunate to have an amazing mentior with the American Cancer Society's DetermiNation program. He was a volunteer, but he spent enough time pumping me up that he should have gotten paid. I'd never done an event with the type of fundraising goals I had for Rock'n'Roll New Orleans, and he kept me from feeling totally overwhelmed.

Alumni of the program this year were asked to be mentors to other athletes training for the 2012 race. I was beyond excited to accept. There is nothing quite as exciting as getting someone new involved in my sports and areas of study. It is so much fun to watch their nervousness, wonder and excitment as they accomplish things they never have (and sometimes thought they never would.) So I've been a Swim Angel, a tutor for an MBA student in Org Behavior, and now I will be a mentor for the ACS.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (if you hadn't heard of it) is a bestselling novel - now movie - about four young girls who share a pair of magical jeans that seem to fit them all perfectly despite their completely different shapes and sizes. That's how I feel about getting to do all of these great things I am lucky to do for other athletes and newbies: we are all different sizes and shapes, but we can all find something about swimming, cycling, and running that fits us perfectly - with a little help from the right people.

HEY CANCER . . .

2011-10-24T08:16:00.000-04:00

So I came up with my key words for the race. You may recall that I always tell myself things like relax your body, open your stride and pick up your feet but that I also throw in "key phrases" to motivate me to push - things attack, pain cave, balls out, I'm in Miami bitch. I decided, since I spend most of the race holding back so I don't run out of energy, toward the end I'm going to tell myself to turn it loose. And whenever anyone doubts me (including me), I usually think to myself, well, it's been inside me, so I am going to remind myself all race long that I already have it inside me.

I also figured out what I am going to wear. (As long as I get the right size here in time.)

There are dozens of races and athletic events for breast cancer. There are even races benefitting ovarian cancer research. Leukemia and lymphoma have the Team in Training crew supporting their society. But us ThyCans - well, we don't get a whole lotta public love.

I try to do my part by speaking openly about the illness. The biggest thing people don't realize is that thyca means not only do you get surgery (mandatory) radioactive iodine (usually also mandatory) chemo (possibly) and then you get to have thyroid DISEASE for the rest of your life because your body thinks it's constantly hypothyroid since you no longer have one.
And since I don't have an event of my own own, I try to do something at my big races. At Rock'n'Roll Mardi Gras this February, I sported teal/blue/purple butterfly wings and wore purple accesories so that when people asked about it I could explain that the thyroid is the butterfly and those are our colors.

But it's also a reminder for myself. Whenever I feel sorry for myself, or forget how far I've come, it helps to remind myself, if I still had cancer there's no way I'd be doing this.

Well, butterfly wings are a bit uncomfortable after 5-6 hours, so this is the shirt I'm going to buy for the race.

It pretty much sums up my attitude.

Hey Cancer. You picked the wrong Bitch.

Rock'n'roll.

for more information about thyroid cancer, visit www.thyca.org or www.checkyourneck.com

The other side of the IronMAJ

2011-10-23T20:08:00.001-04:00

And so I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage
Knowing I can swim deeper than the grim reaper
And ready for whatever sea creatures may abound
When the water swallows me and not the other way around . . . .
Buck65

I wouldn't call myself agnostic, but the lyrics to this Buck65 song largely describe my attitude toward this part of my life. It's all about how I got "here" from "there" and being ready for whatever mysteries await.

So.

The IronMAJ (and MAJ myself) is really like a coin. All the bloggy world ever really sees is one side: the training side. Every now and then, I like to show the "everything else" side. I'm not sure if this is "NOW" or "THEN" but there're a lot to talk about that are not specifically related to racing or training. I have alluded to "news" outside training, so today seems like a good day to break it down.

The nerves in my inner ear are excessively sensitive
and my Eustachian tubes constantly feel "full,"
which cause ringing and fullness in my ears
daly and, less frequently, severe dizziness that
causes nausea and falls. They think it might be
Meniere's disease.

As I've mentioned, I have several issues that cause me to get extremely dizzy (lots of fun while swimming) and sometimes fall (lots of fun while walking). Some of the symptoms bother me every day, and some don't bother me for months. It's hard to tell how to treat the "spells," because they could come from 1 of 4 separate conditions. I have migraine and vertigo medicine if I need it, but sleep is usually the best remedy.

So, I spent a lot of this weekend sleeping.

When I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking.

The IronMAJ is only one of the milestones I've been training for this year. I'm also collecting my materials to apply to PhD programs. It's going to cost me a small fortune and the rest of the year, but I've been occupied with planning for the past year as I have been involved in anywhere from 1-2 teaching assistantships and a few research assistantships every semester. In the past few weeks, though, that activity level has escalated as I prepare for the approaching application deadlines. I've narrowed down my choices to 5 of the top programs in my field. I've agreed to be on the PR committee for my professional conference. I'm working on my first "real" research proposal. Outside of training, my days have been a blur of meetings with key players in my field, searches of possible references for my proposal. Finally, I'm auditing a class I already took to brush up on my skills, and I'm studying to take the GRE again.

I almost feel like my body threw me for a spin to force me to spend a day doing nothing.

Of course, once I get in (fingers crossed) to a program, the hard work really begins. Everything about my life, from my schedule to my salary and possibly even my city of residence, will change for the next 5 years. Much of what I have done has prepared me for these changes, but it will still be a shock.

While I admit it does get overwhelming from time to time, this is the closest thing I've ever done to what I really want to do. Most of my adult life I have wanted to earn my PhD so I can teach and do research. The idea that I be able to do this for my job, is both foreign and welcome, as is the idea that finally doing it may actually provide a much-needed break in workload (as being a PhD student is only 1.5 full-time jobs, not 3).
Once the IronMAJ is done, there's a lot of work on the other side of the coin before 70.3 and crit training begin. But I'm ready for whatever sea creatures may abound when the water swallows me and not the other way around.

This one's for you. (And by you, I mean ME)

2011-10-16T19:04:00.003-04:00

Music my ass

No thanks to my spare phone, the Motorla Q9m, I did my long run today. (No thanks because, despite being called the QMUSIC, this phone doesn't take a standard headphone and I had to spend $30 and search endlessly for a headphone with BOTH a mic AND a jack to convert to 2.5mm.) BUT there's no way I was running that long without music. I may be minimalist when it comes to my running clothes, but I really need my tunes and my heart rate monitor.

There is a lot going on in the Land of MAJ. 18 miles and 4 hours of running solo gives you lots of shit to think about. I did spend most of this time visualizing a giant PR and the successful finish of the
IRONMAJ. But there was a lot of other stuff, too.

So, to be kind to those of you who are kind enough to read my babbling, I'm going to break this down into 3 parts.

Part 1: Things I've Learned From My Best (and Worst) Long Runs
Part 2: This One's For You (and by you, I mean ME)
Part 3: Um, I kind of forgot what part 3 was. Get back to me on that.

Part 1

Things I've Learned From My Best (and Worst) Long Runs

The very most important of all: you have to make your training work for you. For years, I was a marathoner that never got up super early. My lifestyle wasn't conducive to 5am wakeup calls when I was very ill, so I never got up that early to train. Now it does, and I can train with others, so I do.

Lube up

Hydrate early. Better to do this than to find yourself dying of thirst 3 hours in.

Pacing is important. 26.2 miles is a long way. If you don't respect the distance, learn your pace and learn through training what your body will do over distance, you will either a)implode, b)hurt yourself, c)DNF, or D)hate life so bad you'll never do a marathon again. Or all of the above.

Actually, that leads me to: 26.2 miles hurts. Pretty much anything over 15 miles hurts. The trick is to distinguish between good pain and bad pain. Bad pain is injury and overuse; good pain is speed and endurance.

#3: Lube up

Chafing sucks. Lube up. When in doubt, add more lube. Some of my girlfriends wear compression shorts like underwear even under skorts with compression shorts to prevent The Dreaded Chafe. Oh, and never underestimate heat; you can sweat and chafe even going 5-6 miles.

I've seen people with belts looking like this for half marathons

When it comes to nutrition, less is more. I have seen runners who have so much to carry that they don't know what to do with it all on 10- to 13-mile race courses. When I started doing marathons, I first went totally bare and basically carried nothing; then I went the other way and overpacked. I'm learning that, if you are eating/drinking the right things, you don't have to have much of it.

I ran Philly at 28 degrees
and near-freezing rain
in a runningskirt, a long-sleeved
tee and a light vest.

Don't be this guy
(sorry if you are)

When it comes to clothing, less is more. Running heats you up fast, and there's nothing more miserable than being hot and wet all race long. I've never been a big fan of wearing a lot at races, but I've learned that you only really need knee pants or tights for the very, very coldest of races.

Part 2:

This One's For You (and by you, I mean ME)

When I ran the New Orleans Rock'n'Roll Marathon, I did it for the American Cancer Society. It was my first charity marathon. I also did my century this year for charity, although this wasn't my first charity cycling event.

Charity races are usually associated with total beginners who decide to take on their first race for a cause. I went the opposite way. . . did my own races for years and didn't dabble in charity until recently. I can tell you, if you are a Speed Snob (and you know who you are) and you have never done a race for charity, you still ought to do one. It is the best feeling in the world to do something good for others WHILE you do something good for YOU.

That being said . . . .

This year, I will confess that my marathon and that second medal I hope to wear are completely, 100%, for ME. Not for anyone else. It sounds extremely selfish, but I am just going out there to do what I can do for myself.

Racing is, after all, highly personal. No matter how good you get, you're really only ever competing against yourself, unless you're lucky and good enough to be someone like Macca or Crowie or Chrissie or Rinnie.

Part 3

I remember this one after all.

Even After 6 Years I am Still Kind of a Noob

There is still so much to learn about my sports. I am still slower than most people. I am still newer than most people, too - mostly because I trained completely alone for so much of my training and you learn so much from your partners.

I just NOW moved from the old-school Polar Speed/Distance Heart Rate Monitor, which tracked my distance like a pedometer (and was always wrong), to the Garmin Forerunner 305, and that was only because one of my extremely generous and helpful tri mentors was kind enough to lend me her old one. (Most of my training partners, including my Garmin Donor, have long been onto the 301XT.)

So there is always something new to learn, whether it's how to run with GPS, or how to not be a cycling leech, or how to dress for a marathon, or my next challenge, how to train for a crit, and that kinda makes me feel like I will always be a newbie.

And I don't know if that's a bad thing.

Anyway, I'm starved. Burning somewhere between 1500 and 1800 calories will do that to ya.

Sweet 16

2011-10-09T19:23:00.000-04:00

Today I ran my 16-miler.

Disclaimer: I am aware that coaching strategies differ from person to person, and from coach to coach, and from race to race, and from year to year. I know that some plans advocate never going more than 18 miles for a long run, while some have you all the way up into the low 30's.

I am the one on the left

That being said, my strategy, which comes from people who know a shitload more about this stuff than lil' ol' me, has been to never run more than 4 hours in training, or sometimes even 3-3.5. Because of my pace and training plans, this means that my long run for marathon training has never exceeded 18 miles, 3-4 hours, or whatever came first.

In 2007, when training for Philly, I made it 18. In 2008, when training for Melbourne, I don't even remember how long/short it was, but it was not very long (no shock that I ended that race at about mile 14 with ITB issues and disappointment that it was a 5-hour cutoff). In 2009, when training for Disney, it ended up being 18 because my Polar footpod was not calibrated correctly and told me it was 20 :) And then, last year, when training for Rock'n'Roll Mardi Gras, it was 18 again.

Guess what it is again this year?

This week was my 16-miler. Then next week, the 18. Then, I officially "taper." (Although I don't know that you could call what I do "tapering," considering that I always blend triathlon and marathon.) The great Hal Higdon himself told me once that I was "serving two masters." And, although he is 100% right, I have never had more fun (and cycling has definitely made me a stronger runner!)

When is this b*^ch gonna get to the point?!?

You know I never tell the Reader's Digest version of any story!

In any case . . .

Today was the best 16-mile run I have EVER had. This is not hyperbole. It was the best 16-mile run of. my. life. I ran 16 miles in under 3 hours and 30 minutes, I feel like I only ran 13, and I managed to squeak out an 8-10 minute/mile for the last mile. The overall pace was 13 and change, which is the pace I want to maintain or exceed for the marathon.

I can already tell that this is going to be a marathon like no other. When I say that, I'm not being specific. It could be less painful, it could be more fun, it could be faster; I don't know. I have no right to expect a PR in the midst of my other shenanigans *and* considering this is the 2nd mary of this year. But, I do know that I have trained more consistently and at greater volume for the last year than I ever have before, and I know that my long runs feel better than ever before. So, if that's any indication, it's gonna be BAD F*&#iNG ASS.

And it's not just 'cuz I supposedly get this SUPER SWEET additional medal for doing 2 RnR Marys in one year. Hopefully, cause it's ultra-cool.

Goal vs Actual
I don't always hit my goal every week, but I love that
my training cycle mimics the plan and has some
periodization!

Finally, I pulled my goal vs. actual training for the past year and I noticed that, while I haven't always hit my goal, I have these things going for me:

Consistency. The only weeks I've missed training were for mild injuries, illness and race recovery.
Speaking of recovery, I follow my plan(s). I do a pretty good job for a not-too-educated amateur of periodization. You can see by the peaks and valleys that I follow periods of build, taper, build, taper, (and even do much less overall) during the year.
Progress. I have increased my training volume safely.

I hope that I am even closer to my goal and follow an even more predictable pattern next year.

Lots of great career stuff going on . . . too much to mention!

In the meantime, IronMAJ is almost over. Rock'n'Roll!

Limits Off!

2011-10-06T08:23:00.002-04:00

I am a numbers geek. I love to crunch them because I love to see the story they tell. So I was looking over my total miles and hours trained for the summer . . . nothing overwhelming here, but definitely easy to see how the cycling and swimming took over as I trained for the century and the 2.5-mile swim., and then running started to ramp back up as I prepped for the marathon.

JUNE
Cycling: 127.20 Mi - 7h 55m 55s
Running: 29.27 Mi - 5h 50m 24s
Swimming: 13200.00 Yd - 5h 37m 47s
18.366 hours

JULY
Cycling: 271.64 Mi - 16h 12m 26s
Running: 20.46 Mi - 4h 13m 27s
Swimming: 11737.23 Yd - 5h 21m 58s
25.46 hours

AUGUST
Cycling: 395.00 Mi - 23h 21m 08s
Running: 23.74 Mi - 5h 11m 24s
Swimming: 22948.43 Yd - 10h 37m 39s
39.09 hours

SEPTEMBER
Cycling: 195.34 Mi -11h 55m 44s
Running: 50.63 Mi - 11h 08m 44s
Swimming: 10550.00 Yd - 4h 41m 53s
27.44 hours

I also did my first lactate threshold test in over a year. I know, I know, you're supposed to do them every 4-5 weeks. (Well, I know now.) My lactate threshold went up 6 beats per minute this year and the time it took me to run 3 miles went from 45 minutes to 29.

We don't have this in Florida, but my parents'
house looks like this in fall.

As much progress as I made over the summer, I am SO glad fall is here. Fall signals the end of tri season for me; the beginning of marathoning. No more 2-workout-days for a while. More freedom to just get up and go because running alone requires less equipment.
In Florida, fall doesn't really start until October or even November. But it finally is making an appearance. This morning, while I was doing my 5ish-mile run (at the beginning of a 14-hour day, ugh!) it was so gorgeous out. Humidity was high but temps were lower than they have been.

Fall is MY FAVORITE SEASON!

As I was doing some light hill repeats, my heart rate monitor beeped at me and across the screen a message flashed. I've seen this message before, and I'm not really sure what it means (do we ever really understand everything that our electronical gadgets do?)

Limits off!

When this message popped up, something Mike from D3 Multisport told me about my LT test instantly popped into my head. I was explaining what I did last year, what I weighed, etc. And he said "What you were at before, is done and gone."

I got on the scale this morning and saw a new low weight - again, a weight I haven't seen in 2-3 years. And I thought to myself, what you were at before is done and gone.

I love to have "key phrases" to get me through tough races, and I think I have found my two mantras for marathon training and possibly racing this season.

Who knows what this limits off message means for my Polar. I'll have to look it up today. But I got to thinking about that message, and about Mike's advice, and I started thinking, why not turn my limits off? Why not make a concerted effort to stop letting everything that has bothered me or hindered me in the past stop? Right here, right now? I already took "cancer" out of my blog and I rarely talk about my health anymore, and look how much better I feel about it. I already took the scary first steps to break into the field I'd like to study for my PhD. I already learned to accept that just because I have a certain set of constraints doesn't mean I cannot work every day to erase them.

What would life be like it I really did live it with my limits off?

Doubt may be powerful, but hope will win every time

2011-10-05T07:57:00.000-04:00

It's time for a long discussion about the lovers and the haters.

I feel like almost everyone avoids the negative topics concerning our great sport(s). A lot of people don't want to talk about DNF's and DQ's and injuries and overtraining and illnesses and - let's not forget - straight-up jackasses and haters.

Jackasses are easy to spot. They're the people who don't say "on your left," and almost crash someone just to finish behind (or 2 seconds in front of) the person they almost crash. They rack their $5,000 carbon triathlon machine on top of your poor little bargain road bike in transition despite there being 100 spaces open after the ride. And sometimes they just act like jerks because they have more money.

And then there are what I call haters. Haters are more subtle. They try to undermine everything you do. Sometimes they'll tell you how great and awesome you are while they plot on how to show you up at the next race. They question your choice of clothing, your training plan, your shoes, your race goals, and sometimes try to sabotage you mentally because they're afraid you might finish a few minutes ahead of them and they just can't stand to finish behind someone who doesn't look as fit as they are, or who doesn't follow their rules. All you can do is your best to avoid them.

The reality is this: triathlon and marathon are very competitive. And some people take that SUPER seriously. The haters, like the jackasses, are unavoidable.

And that's ok. Without a little competition, many of us would never push ourselves to be better.

But it's also ok for a completely different reason.

LET'S TRAVEL BACK IN TIME

In 2006, when I did my first 5k, I had no idea what was ahead of me. I was talked into doing it by my best friend, and really encouraged toward it by my original triathlon mentor, who helped found the Lakeland Landsharks Tri Club. At the beginning of the race, Karime, who does not harbor a single ounce of malice or ego about such things, told me something I will never forget.

You're faster than me, so you go ahead and I'll see you at the end.

The thing is, she really meant it. She wasn't telling me go ahead and thinking or pretending she wasn't thinking I'm still going to beat you or we both know I'm really faster. No, she seriously, truly, honestly, wanted me to kick ass.

still kind of back in time here

When I started typing this, I started to think about her. And something else someone told me - someone I still don't know to this day - came to mind.

It was at Florida 70.3 I had just been DQ'd for missing the time cutoff on the run. My nutrition, which I'd trained with for 2 years, had sent me attempting to poop or puke down the run course for 13.1 miles and subsequently had me shut down with only 4.3 miles left. I was crying. I'd trained for 2 years and thought 2 years was more than enough experience to finish a HIM. An older, wiser, more experienced athlete gave me this advice:

Don't ever let anyone rent negative space in your head. (He mostly meant ME renting negative space in my OWN head, but it pretty much applies to anyone.)

WELCOME BACK TO 2011

I realize that if I spend too much time talking or thinking about the haters, I am letting them rent negative space in my head.

So instead I'm gonna tell you about the lovers.

Last night, I meet Karime for dinner and to watch some baseball and have a beer and just catch up. Since that first 5k, I have done dozens of races. Karime is still cool with doing a 5k every now and then but has no desire to be a crazy triathlete. Nonetheless, she is completely supportive of my athletic insanity. She's asking about the century, and I tell her that I really know now how little I want to do Ironman. The conversation goes like this.

Karime: "Sure."

Me: "What? I'm serious. Don't want to. At all."

"No, you're going to do one."

"No, I really don't want to."

She looks at me for a second, puts her hand up and says, "Listen, bitch. I know you. You did a 5k and said you'd never do a marathon. Now you've done how many marathons? How many triathlons?"

"Yeah, but Ironman is different."

"I didn't say you're going to do one now, I just said you're going to do one. Maybe in 5 years. But eventually you'll get so well-trained you'll do it just like everything else, just because you can."

I stop for a second, speechless. Here is someone who believes in me so strongly that she does not doubt I can do anything just because I decide I can/want to.

And then she says this: "Just make sure it's the one in Hawaii. Because I really want to go to Hawaii."

Well, now she's just delusional.

"Do you have any idea how fast you have to be to get to Kona?" I sputter. "You have to be like a 12-hour Ironman finisher. Elite. Super fast." I point at myself. "Not this gal."

She shakes her head and tells me, "You'll get there. I know you. Eventually you'll just get to the point that you can."

I look at her like she has six heads, and she adds, "Let me tell you how this conversation is going to go. 'Ring ring . . . hello? Oh hi Meggan.' 'Oh, hi. So I was wondering . . . do you want to go to Hawaii?' "

The point here is not that I want to do Ironman or think I can qualify for Kona, ever (because, for the record, I do NOT.) The point is that this person believes in me enough to truly think that, if I really, really, really wanted to make it happen, I would do it.

That single conversation instantly crushed the memory of the 50 more I have had with haters.

Triathlon aside . . .

What would life be like if we all believed that? If we all did not doubt we can do anything just as long as we decide we can?

I have been trying to surround myself with more and more lovers. And I know there are sometimes going to be more haters than lovers. But that's ok. Doubt may be powerful, but hope will win every time.

The Daquiri Deck Tropical Splash 2.5k Swim Report aka Ya Can't Have it All

2011-10-03T21:26:00.002-04:00

Before I move on to the report for the 2.5k Tropical Splash, I have to add that I can't get over how cool it was that we got this trophy for raising the most for the Ronald McDonald House Charities of Central Florida. Over $12,000 was raised, so over 160 families can stay at the RMC House thanks to the team from Seminole Cyclists and David's World Cycle. I can honestly say I was taught most of what I know about cycling from this group. It was an amazing experience.

Now, on to the swim.

Well.

I know I said I was only looking at this event as a "practice." Initially I was going to do the 5k swim, remember? But I decided, since I already did 2.5 miles in August, it wasn't necessary to train hard for it. So, I told myself, I'll just go for a little fun swim and see what I can do at shorter distance.

And then I didn't have dinner until almost 10pm the night before thanks to a big miscommunication.

And then the pavilion I thought the event was starting from wasn't the right pavilion.

And my sherpa left me alone in the dark to go to the gas station for a drink and restroom based on the idea that it was the right one.

And I didn't get to be in the cute pre-race photos.

And then my timing chip strap started to come off during the start.

And I also underestimated my ability to aggressviely start a swim race.

So, instead of taking me 1 hour, it took me 1:07.

And - I'm not done yet - then swimsuit pictures were taken. Not in our cute team shirts - mind you, I missed those thanks to the pavilion mishap. In swimsuits. Wet and bedraggled.

And one of the Super Skinnies (well, everyone but me is one of these) says, "make sure you take it from the side so we look better."

I'm thinking, ok, YOU look better because you're all of a size 2. Women who occasionally wear a size in the double digits but have a small waist-to-bust ratio do NOT.

Yeah.

This is more or less what I look like in REAL life

I'm all sweaty. My super-snug suit (say that 3 times real fast) is super snug because it is more comfortable in the lake to help avoid the "swim rash" the water gives us from chafing and just open water in general. And my fat is peeking out every corner imaginable. I don't even have a face in these pictures . . . . I have a squinty, rasin-like object, covered in greasy-stringy rope, perched atop a blob of what you would never know is a low-body-fat, large-breasted, small-waisted, size 8/10 body.

Needless to say, my morning was pretty much ruined.

Seriously, how could I be mad? This was my view

So later on we had a few beers and watched football and ate snacks and just enjoyed being together. My bike is getting checked up from the crash and a new chain and cassette, and even though it will cost me a bunch, it will be worth it. With this amazing view from my hotel and a great weekend of dinners and beautiful surroundings, I pretty much let all my grudges go.

After all, you can't have it all.

And considering I've PR'd and reached milestones all year . . . I'd say I have come pretty close.

Grumpy Pants and Old Berries

2011-09-28T17:00:00.000-04:00

I ran 13 miles today.

That in and of itself is not terribly remarkable. People run half marathons and half-marathon-distance every day. And I just sat on a bike for 6 hours, so running for less than half that time isn’t a huge deal, either. Granted, this was my longest run since February, but I’ve worked up to it. Nothing huge.

I did, however, plan to go 14 – and even thought at one point that I went 15. I thought I was really moving (for me, anyway!) and even thought I was setting a mini-PR at the 13^th mile mark.

And then I came home and found out I only went 13.

Smashed Droid

See, my Droid, which was already dying a slow death, got dropped from a bike going about 19 a few weeks back. It looks something like this, although I’m unable to show you a picture of the ACTUAL smashed Droid because I’ve been relying on a very, very, very old Blackberry (one of the original ‘Berries) which has no camera, terrible mobile web, and – possibly the worst part – NO GPS.

Old 'Berry

(How did we live without all these conveniences?)

So, before I went out and ran my planned 14 this morning, I had to go on Gmap Pedometer and track a route down that was 14 miles. I’ve always had great luck with Gmap Pedometer, but the route seemed a little light. When I hit the turnaround, I saw the time on my watch and figured, I still have some time, let me go longer.

Good thing I did . . . got back, double-checked the route . . . just over 13 miles. If I hadn't gone longer, I wouldn’t have even made it a half marathon. Instead, I got all excited thinking I'd run over 14 miles at my 10-mile race pace.

Major case of the Grumpy Pants.

Ahh, well! IronMAJ training continues . . . feeling good as the runs get longer and looking toward 15 or 16 next week.

In the meantime, I really need a new phone. To go along with the new wheels. All my equipment needs replacement this year!

This Saturday, I am signed up for the Daquiri Deck Ocean Swim. I don't really consider this a race. I had originally planned to do the 5k, but since I've already done 2.5 miles and my swimming took a backseat to riding, I chose to jump down in distance. I do 2000-3000 swims regularly, so this will be just a fun swim for me, to keep working on my openwater skills and ocean familiarity. Then, a few nice days in a beautiful place with the B.

I have lots of exciting news on the career front, but I'm keeping that under wraps . . just for now :)

10 New Things Training/Racing/Triathlon Have Taught Me About Life

2011-09-27T22:20:00.000-04:00

1.       You look amazing in street clothes after months of seeing yourself covered in sweat, wearing spandex and no makeup.

Self-explanatory.

2.       It’s not about the result or the destination; it’s about the journey.

Races, and any other goals in life, don’t just appear one day. They happen after days and months of effort. Luckily, it is the days and months during which you give the effort that often give you the most satisfaction – especially when you look back on race day and acknowledge how you “got there.”

3.       If you fail to plan, you plan to fail. And, on that note, if something really is worthwhile to you, you will go to great lengths to make it happen.

Because of my various medical issues, I often feel terrible after 8pm or 9pm on the weekdays, but it is usually the only time I have to plan for my next day. I have to force myself, through terrible fatigue, to tune up my bike, set up my breakfast, pack my clothes, etc., so I’ll be ready to work out in the morning and sleep an extra 15 minutes. But when I started doing this regularly, I started my day feeling a lot calmer and more prepared, and that carried over into my daily life. I continue to plan like I always did, but now I try to do a lot of legwork in advance of big days.

4.       The people with whom you surround yourself will often make or break you.

Attitudes are contagious. I worked out alone for years because groups I joined were very unfriendly to the less-than-elite. Once I started working out with friendly groups, I got faster and stronger. Were they that much better as athletes? Some of them – but mostly it was because the positive environment fostered personal growth. Training buddies (the right ones, anyway) can do wonders for your self-esteem! The same goes with friends in other parts of your life.

5.       Do not be afraid to do things differently if they make something work for you.

I can’t train with gels and most sports drinks. I tried just about everything out there, and I finally started to land on the options that worked best for me by asking around and being unafraid to get blank stares when the majority of my group used something different. The alternative was puking or pooping myself silly at every race. I also can’t ride on most women’s-specific saddles. The alternative is horrific, cystic saddle sores that eventually become infected.   I think being the oddball is the better alternative in both cases!

6.       Just because you are CAPABLE of doing something, doesn’t mean you NEED to.

Just because you CAN eat cake at every meal, doesn’t mean you should, because eventually you’ll look and feel horrible. The same goes with racing and training. Just because you CAN go 140.6 miles doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for YOU to do.

7.       Rest more than you think you ought to, but push more than you think you can.

Going along with “just because you are capable,” you don’t need to train twice a day, 6 days a week – especially if you’re not getting paid to do it. Respect your taper and rest days, and every now and then take an extra one. Hell, don’t worry about an extra 2 or 3 if you’re sick, or traveling, or just plain tired – you probably need them, and your fitness isn’t going anywhere in a few days. That doesn’t mean you should be lying around eating bonbons and expecting to finish races in amazing times. It means that, on the days you have intense workouts, give 110% to your workouts – push just a little more than you think you can - and then on the days that you rest, give the same effort to resting! After all, it’s just as important, if not more so.

8.       The race really is YOU versus YOU.

In life, as in training, someone will always be better, faster, stronger, smarter, prettier. So don’t worry about beating them. Worry about beating yourself.

9.       Use obstacles as a reason to excel, not an excuse to fail.

Moliere said “the greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.” I truly believe I thrive in situations where people – including me – don’t expect me to make it. The worse things get, the more I step up my game. As an added bonus, when things are even the slightest bit better, they seem like a breeze!

10.   The best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.