Ironman - Till I Collapse

 I may set a watching record for this in the next 9 days. But I better not collapse!

A Changing of the Guard

This is Athena. I love her, she has taken very good care of me and she has a cool name. Athena, the Warrior Goddess, pretty much everything I ever needed in a bike, a cool name to get me from A to B. She's not too heavy, she shifts when I tell her to, she's orange which is super cool, she has never dumped me (well once, but that was rider error) and her wheels go round and round just like the school bus. Well, I guess that's her problem, I have put myself in a situation that requires more Ferrari and less school bus.
As previously discussed, I will never sign-up for an Ironman, which makes perfect sense, except that I did sign-up. Ironman Arizona to be exact, November 18th is my day of reckoning. If only one of you readers had been there to talk some sense into me. One of you was, Miss Trina, but all she did was force me to stay in line and take pictures of me as I paid slightly less than 8 bills to torture myself. She was entertained, I was in tears and I was still one-year from racing.
You have 17 hours to finish an Ironman race and the one thing I knew for sure was, "I am gonna need a faster bike!" Fortunately my awesome hubby knew this better than me and was willing to foot the $$bill$$. I present to you..............

This my friends is Medusa or Scarlett, I haven't decided. She came up with both names while we were spending quality time together. Both have a little evil in them, remind you of anyone, and both sound fast and strong. OK, maybe Medusa is all evil, but it took a pretty strong man to subdue her so it will do! She is my Ferrari. She even comes with a battery pack (it's a shifting thing, not a gonna get me anywhere faster thing). She is so cool and let's face it, sexy! She almost shifts before I tell her to and she makes a cool noise that sounds speedy. What's with the names? Well, the way I see it, if anything is gonna spend that much time with my unmentionables, it better have a name. Medusa sleeps next to Ryan (not between us). She has new hot red shoes to wear on her rider and she dropped Ryan on some rolling hills the other day. So she rocks! In his defense, he is not in riding shape and has spent all of zero minutes on his bike this year, but still, I take what I can, when I can. I believe she will be good to me, as good as Athena.
I still love my Athena, she is tried and true. I'm thinking of getting her some cross tires and tooling around with the kids on her. I hope Scarlett will be as loyal. So far she has. I hope she keeps me safe and gets to me to the finish line on time. OK people, FINE, I know I still have to run a marathon after 112 miles with her but the more time she can give me for the 26.2 mile death march, the better!

Here is to safe and fun riding for the next 181 days. Yes, I'm counting. I hope I'm still smiling at the end of all this!

I Guess Size Does Matter

I am not one who has ever been intimidated by size. Never did I choose a book based on the amount of pages. In fact, the bigger the better for me. I love to get lost in a book and have it overtake me. In life too. I always dated tall men. I liked to hang out with the short ones, they have more fun. But my mom taught me, tall, dark and handsome. So you play with the short ones and marry the tall ones. Which I did. And of course, I always assure my Mr. well, ............................ that he is perfect! Anyway. Recently I learned, SIZE DOES IN FACT MATTER!

Yes, the first size worthy thing that has ever intimidated me. The Count of Monte Cristo, all 1,462 pages of it. And the print, tiny, tiny, tiny and smudged and tiny. Too big and too small all in one binding.

This pic doesn't really do the print justice but it was awful. Initially, I reserved it at the library to broaden my mind and read one of the classics. I checked it out and almost turned it right back in. No way am I gonna get through that. And to be honest, I didn't want to try, I have only two books I have never completed in my life and they haunt me. I didn't want to add a third. Anna Karenina and 1776 by the way. The fact that my mom had survived The Count on her Kindle gave me hope and I dove in. Edmund Dantes captured my heart right away and finish I did. Although I must say, I think Comte de Monte Cristo got a little diabolical in the end. Plus all the characters? I read the book boggled that this book was written long hand in the late 1800's. How in the world in Alexander Dumas keep it all straight? Tons of characters and most of them with multiple names and titles. Very impressive. I thought about the Harry Potter series and would be willing to bet even Madame Rowling had a spreadsheet of all her characters, potions and spells all neatly arranged and easy to access.

So, in the great debate of size I guess my hubby is right. Size does matter!

Sick

"I cannot go to school today", said little Peggy Ann McKay. "I have the measles and the mumps, a gash a rash and purple bumps......."

Like little Peggy Ann I would like to fake going blind in my right eye and a temperature of one-o-eight. It sounds wonderful to lie in bed all day. Children banned from my room because I am toxic. A book in hand and full control of the remote. No Bubble Guppies, no Phineas and Ferb, no American Choppers or hunting shows. Total bliss, right? Wrong!

The problem with Peggy Ann's plan is.... Being sick, sucks! This time around I preferred the floor to my bed to writhe around, which meant the remote didn't have line of sight to the TV, and I couldn't use it without getting out of my preferred ball. Also, have you ever, ever noticed how many food commercials there are? For one suffering from severe nausea, I would rather watch my life flash before my eyes then see a mouth-watering ANYTHING! Also, reading while the world is spinning, while in a ball in the corner of my room, with bad lighting does not work so well. Especially if you are reading a book printed 30-years-ago in a terrible and tiny font. (The Count of Monte Cristo, if you must know.) The only acceptable way to pass the hours was in sleep, which I did a lot of (gratefully). I even still managed to sleep at nights as well.

Things are looking up for Peggy Ann and I. I was able to feed my children, which meant they were no longer fending for themselves when Ryan wasn't around. I believe the Lucky Charms and Cup-o-Noodles are gone. Unlike Peggy Ann I will not be going out to play, yet. Us grown-ups need extended recovery times.

http://kjapoemaday.blogspot.com/2007/10/sick-by-shel-silverstein.html

Pacific Crest Long-Distance Struggle

OK, it's a long-distance triathlon or a Half Ironman, either way, it's a struggle. I speak from experience. As Frohlein Maria would say, "Let's start at the very beginning"

In 2008 I ran a Marathon. In my training Coach James kept telling me the race doesn't start until mile 18 and for the life of me I couldn't understand. The race starts when the gun goes off, duh, what does he know? I remember mile 18 and I remember going "aha, James isn't so dumb after all." A marathon does in fact start at mile 18, or in the vicinity thereof. My other 'aha' moment also came at that mile post. "I will not be doing an Ironman.....ever!" So I did a half.

Pacific Crest Weekend Sports Festival is in Sunriver, Oregon and it is amazing. I love the energy of the Athletes Village, the weather and the beauty. It can't be topped. The race starts right above 4200 feet, and just goes up from there. Problem!

So what does my marathon have to do with this race? The day before race day I had an epiphany. You see, I was worried about the swim from the word "go" or "register," whichever you prefer. I figured I could at least limp through the rest, but swim with the fishies, this is a problem. However, I do have a lake in my backyard, and I can honestly say I had zero fear of the swim or the fishies during the race. Practice, practice, practice and little fear facing helps. I also got drug up enough hills by Ryan, Monte and James to survive cycling up Mt. Bachelor. My epiphany was regarding the run. For six months I prepared to run 13.1 miles. Not a problem considering I've ran a marathon, I can do 13, easy. I barely remember the first half of my marathon, it's a no brainer. The thought went thus, "you don't have to run the first 13.1 miles, you have to run the second 13.1 miles and those SUCKED! And that was when I started hoping for a mean stomach flu to attack me, thus enabling me to lie in bed all day Saturday. It wasn't to be!


Saturday morn, we loaded up and I was very mellow, even Monte's attempts to pump me up with various mixed music didn't work. However, when my request for Miss Miley and "The Climb" was played, I sat and cried. I don't think it was fear, but the line about there will always be another mountain to climb and I can see Mt. Bachelor ahead of me was just overwhelming. Even if I did bow out of the race, I would eventually sign-up for another and that would be yet another mountain to climb. I did freak out a little walking into the water before the countdown. I told Ryan I didn't want to do it and I was scared of being last (truly that was my biggest concern, I could just imagine all the race officials having to stay late for me). My loving husband, said he knew I didn't want to, but to suck it up and do it anyway, then he walked his butt out there and raced. (I caught him 7hrs and 58 minutes later.) So the tears were coming, I was freaking, 5,4,3, I put my goggles on 2,1, and I swam. The best part of the swim was about 3 minutes out, I was sighting and breathing and looked over and saw people treading water, panicking, off course, breast stroking, backstroking the wrong way, and here I was swimming. It was awesome, at least I was ahead of them. That was all I needed to boost my confidence and swim on......slow and steady.

My bike was good and I am very happy with my time. I came into the race extremely worried about it. I had recently rode Mt. St. Helens and the volcano kicked my butt. I let it get into my head and psych me out. However I was strong......slow and steady. I hoped for 4 hours, and was scared of 4:30 or more. 4:08 it was and I love it! 38 miles uphill and the rest is downhill. I was so proud of myself, I barely touched my brakes coming down and even pedaled most of the time. This was huge for me.

Then the run!

It sucked, it was hard, it re-enforced the prior conviction that an Ironman just isn't in the cards. The pain of running at 4200 ft. after cycling is intense. Some can pull it off, but for me, and most of the people I talk to, it's just something you have to experience to appreciate. The legs simply don't do what you tell them to do. There must be a disconnect somewhere because the mental can't completely override body. I did end up doing a run/walk combination. After 3 miles of mind and body arguing I simply solved the problem. My watch beeped at me every 20 minutes to eat. I simply decided that at the beeps I was going to walk for 5 minutes, then I had to run for 15. It worked great! I didn't have to negotiate anything anymore with the stumps because the mind was strong enough to know that we (legs + brain) can do anything for 15 minutes. Don't get me wrong, there was still arguing (it sounded like my kids whining) but the watch was in charge, and nothing can argue with a beep!

I did finish the run, slowly and steadily (race theme #1). It was awesome to come around the bend, hear the announcer, then to hear my family and friends yelling "go Carlie!" There is something about that moment that makes tears spring instantly to your eyes. I'm not sure if its the family and others yelling just for you, or the mere sight of the finish line and the end of the torture, but it is amazing! My girls, Isabel and Taylor, hopped the fence and crossed the line with me. That was definitely pretty cool. Hopefully they got a sense of mom's hard work and it can translate into some future success for them.

Now for the amazing part (yes, more amazing then me completing this race.) Ryan also raced. He and I had the exact same run time, 2:41:33. I don't think we could run together and have the exact same time, the finish would be a second or two off. I think that is pretty awesome! However, should I call AASports and see if they have our times to the hundredths? I think I won because I am listed first in the run time rankings? It would be nice to hold that over his head!

A huge thanks to all my "team" supporters, The Pope family for use of husband to train with and daughters to babysit. The Zobrist family for that awful St. Helens climb and daughter to babysit. James Williams, my trainer and Zing 3 coach. James makes me believe I can do things I have no business doing, then I go and do them, it's crazy. Also to James' wife Natalie for babysitting (race theme #2) and finally to Ryan. He kicked me out of the door to train more times than I can count and for making me start the race, I may have gone to breakfast otherwise.

BTW, 28 people finished after me, I wasn't last! Woot! Woot!

Some Great Family Pictures!

Our girls are posers!

My seven-year-old beauty!


Wishful thinking little girl!

Pictures were "just so hard"

The pictures were taken in Grandma and Grandpa Andrews' backyard, where Curtis and I grew up! We couldn't imagine anywhere else being as special. My cousin Sydney took the photos and she did a terrific job. I follow her blog, please check it out. If you live in Utah give her a call, you will be as pleased as we are!

Just Do Your Best

Just so you know, I was the perfect child. Raised as basically an only child, my parents were on easy street. I didn't want play dates, or dolls, or even, heaven forbid, Barbies. I just wanted to dance and dance I did. I was that hard-working, not so talented child, but I loved it and always, always gave 100%. Practice, competition, parade, or performance. I lived for it and never forced my parents to utter the words, "as long as you do your best, I will be happy."

Nope, never!

Isabel has recently taken up competitive gymnastics and she is oozing potential from every hair on her precious head to a perfect toe point (one I never had). She did one handstand her first day of recreation class and was pulled aside for the "join the team talk" from Coach Peter. Poor me, I didn't see it coming! I should have run her out of the gym screaming nooooooooooo at the top of my lungs. You see, competitive gymnastics is 100% harder on mom than talent-ridden child. Let me just take one moment and acknowledge (for Jenny's benefit) that this is level 3, not even USGA sanctioned competitions. I get that, I know that, I've sat through 3 of these nightmare events and held my apprehension at complete bay, knowing that this in no way counts as official gymnastics torture. Until the last one.

We had the talk, "just do your best", "we love you whether you stay on the beam or not", "as long as you smile, you're number one". But here's the problem, she didn't do her best, she didn't smile and no she didn't stay on the beam. And it was all downhill from there.

Beam was first, thank goodness, get that torture out of the way. She fell early on, but finished strong and we were sure she would bounce back. Floor, ugh, not bad, but no smile or enthusiasm. Then came vault. Let me just say, she's become very good and very strong here and she had two FANTASTIC practice vaults. When her turn came, we all had to yell at her to crawl out of the ball she was in to get up, then she did some unrecognizable run, jump, somersault, flail thing. Good thing you get two turns at vault right? Coach Michelle had a talk with her, went over the vault with her and gave her that almighty pat on the bum. Isabel, my talented daughter proceeded to repeat, but with significantly more flailing the first vault. At this point I was hoping she would come down with the stomach flu on the way home, puking all over my car explaining why she was so out of sorts. Bars were last and simply put, more flailing.

I was at a complete loss for words. She knew, I knew, she knew that I knew and we both knew not talk about it. What do you say to your 8-year-old when she just flat out didn't............didn't anything, try, smile, do? This was gonna take some help, specifically, a double bacon cheeseburger, large fry and Biggie diet coke from Wendy's. I like to call it cheap therapy.

Once I sucked all of that down, I ventured a little backseat conversation with the girl. I can't say that we solved anything, but I am proud to say that my daughter knew I still loved her after all was said. It wasn't fun though, calling her out on the not trying, not smiling thing. But she is almost nine (gulp) and accountability is big in our house. The silver lining in this fiasco, is we're done for the year, no meets until next March. I may recuperate by then.

Later, I finally asked my mom why she had been smirking all day. Was she enjoying the turmoils of watching me parent or just in a really good mood. Her answer? Apparently, I wasn't perfect and history had just repeated itself.