Running for Mangos

Officially Mr. and Mrs. Triathlete

I've been itching to get back to triathlon training lately, after taking time off to marry my partner in life (and triathlon training!), buy a house together, move, and change jobs. It has been an extremely busy past 6 months and I know that life comes in seasons, so I fully enjoyed the transitions and didn't worry that we didn't really find time to train. This season was on of change, not of fitness, and that's okay. We had a beautiful and intimate wedding surrounded by the people we love, I started really dancing again (the "ballerina" part of this blog's title had really fallen by the wayside for a couple of years), and we are now settled into *our* home, a little plantation style cabin sitting on 1.6 beautiful acres out in the country.  It has awesome vaulted ceilings and tons of potential, and a quiet, lovely yard surrounded by tall trees that rustle and sway in the breeze. It also has lots of little roads and trails around it that I can't wait to run on...

So a couple of weekends ago, after a week of thinking about nothing but triathlon, I decided it was time to get back out there. My plan was to head down to Hapuna, swim a little, then run. As is customary for my first workout back any time I've taken a break, nothing went smoothly in trying to get ready; having moved 50 miles since my last workout only compounded matters. I didn't know where my running shoes were. Finally found those tucked away in my triathlon bag, which was itself tucked away in the attic. I dug through it hoping to find my swim bag, but of course it couldn't be that simple. It took me almost an hour of digging through boxes in the garage before I found the swim bag, and I was both amused and embarrassed to find my goggles inside, tangled up in lengths of Christmas ribbon, a cruel reminder of exactly how long it had been since they were used.

By the time I made it out of the house I no longer had time to swim, but was still pretty pumped about running. I had already decided that I wasn't going to push myself too much, just get back out there, get moving, get excited. I hadn't really thought about the fact that it was exactly one week before Honu, the half Ironman, so it was an added bonus when I arrived at Hapuna and found it swarming with triathletes preparing for the race.

On a side note, I have finally given in to wearing visor hats. I used to associate them with golfers and scoff a little under my breath when I saw people wearing them, but with the rim blocking the sun from your eyes and the absent back allowing the wind to cool your head, I just can't deny their practicality anymore. They're too damn comfortable! So, although I am somewhat out of shape (not too bad, thanks to ballet kicking my ass) I fit right in with all the spandexed, visored athletes.

My pace, however, did not fit in, and that was okay with me. I had decided prior to arriving that I was going to do 4 minutes walking, 2 minutes running, alternating, so as not to overdue it in the heat my first time out. This comfortable pace felt a little bit too comfortable, so after about a mile I switched to 3 minutes walking, 2 minutes running, which had the added bonus of landing on nice tidy 5-minute increments of time. It was so nice to back out there that it is beyond words. Like returning home I was reminded of all the little things I enjoy so much -- the feeling of breathing deeply and rhythmically, the view of the ocean off to the side, the cute little Franklin grouse scuttling across the road, and the smell of kiawe wood heated up in the sun. It was truly lovely.

I was surprised and somewhat entertained to see an aid station along the side of the road about a half-mile in, as if they had set it up just for me to sustain me through my first run back! In reality, it was for the free practice triathlon they always have the week before Honu (another thing I didn't think about!). For most of my run, the athletes were out on their bikes, but around the 3-mile mark I started seeing them, and at about 4 miles they started passing me. It was fun to see some familiar faces and extra motivating to be out there with them even if I wasn't part of their race.

Sweaty but happy!

Exactly at my turnaround point (2.5 miles), a man working in his yard and carrying a large bucket called out to me, asking if I'd like a mango. Being minorly obsessed with mangos, I said yes enthusiastically. He was wearing a Lavaman triathlon shirt so we talked briefly and before I started back the other direction he offered me another mango which, of course, I accepted. I had to giggle picturing what I must look like, carrying a mango in each hand as I sweated my way back to Hapuna! Some people carry weights while I power walk, perhaps this is just the Hawaii version!

Things felt pretty good up to about the 4 mile mark, when I started to get tired, or maybe just overheated. I hadn't brought water because I was thinking "5 miles isn't that long, I don't need water," but neglected to consider the fact that walk-running 5 miles takes longer than running the whole way, so as the time neared the 1-hour mark I got increasingly uncomfortable. By the time I got back to the aid station, I actually asked if I could have a cup of Gatorade. Luckily, runners are generous people and they were happy to share. I gulped the Gatorade (had to set my mangos down to down to this -- again thinking about how silly I must look), dragged myself up the last couple of hills, and made it back to Hapuna in good spirits.The 5 miles took me 1 hour and 11 minutes.

It was a lovely little reminder of what triathlon always teaches me: even when things start out a little rough and don't go quite as you planned, keep pushing through and you will be rewarded with mangos. Okay, maybe not always mangos. Sometimes you may have to settle for a personal sense of triumph, but either way, it always puts a smile on my face. I am excited for more.

My Experience With Juice Cleansing

There's a lot of conflicting information and perhaps an even wider range of opinions about anything related to health, and the idea of juice cleanses is hotly debated. Some say they are just a scam made up by companies hoping to sell juicers and pre-bottled "miracle" cleanses, some people swear that they are a life-changing detoxifying experience that everyone should experience to have a healthy mind and body.

I land somewhere in the middle. I think that there is some value to flooding your body with micronutrients and antioxidants and giving it a break from all of the unnatural and processed crap most Americans put into it on a daily basis. I am a little concerned about lack of protein, amino acids, and insoluble fiber, and about slowing down my metabolism. Ideally, everyone should just eat primarily vegetables, fruits, and nuts supplemented with lean protein and whole grains, but that's easier said than done in the modern world so if people need a juice cleanse to change their habits then so be it.

My personal motivation for doing a cleanse has several levels. First, I did a (non-juice) cleanse back in 2004 where I eliminated wheat, corn, sugar and sweeteners, cow's milk, eggs, and meat for 3 weeks because I had been getting sick (common cold type illnesses) nearly every month and I was curious to see if it would change anything. After finishing the cleanse, I didn't get sick again for almost 2 years, which made me think that perhaps there is a little something to the whole idea. Second, I have long-standing digestive issues which seem to be particularly sensitive to starchy and processed foods and I'm hoping to "flush" and heal my system.

And third (and most immediate), I have been dealing with a minor skin issue on my fingers for almost a year where my fingertips are dry and cracked, which they think is due to a sensitivity to something I'm touching. To combat this, I was prescribed a topical steroid cream. No warnings were given by the dermatologist who prescribed it, so I have been using it off and on for the past year with little restriction. What was left out at the time of my prescription was that you should never use a steroid cream for longer than a couple of weeks at a time and never ever let it touch your face, Given that the instructions were to put it on my hands before going to sleep, you would think that mentioning to keep it away from my face might have been relevant, but nothing was said. What I found out the hard way is that long term topical steroid use and face contact can cause steroid-induced perioral dermatitis, a humiliating, angry rash that encircles your mouth and looks like a mustache and beard made of fire. There are lots of tiny pimple-like bumps and the skin between them turns bright red and it feels like your face has been rubbed in fiberglass. Because it happens as a dependency, the second you stop the steroid cream it goes absolutely insane, and such was the case with me. For a week my face felt like it was on fire, and of course to add to your shame it is sensitive to makeup, so you are forced to face the world with no way to hide your horrific affliction. I started taking the prescribed course of low-dose anti-inflammatory antibiotics (Oracea) and using Elidel, a non-steroidal topical cream, but I also wanted to see if juicing could calm the inflammatory process that was wreaking havoc on my skin.

I'm including my juicing journey on this blog because it relates to health and my body, which I believe to be relevant to my triathlon training journey. In addition, I've been forbidden from exercising for a couple of weeks because that, too, can stir up inflammation and so I have nothing else to write about. So here goes, my day-by-day experience.

Day T-minus-2:

Kitty's ready to juice

I started out by slowly introducing juice into my diet. I had juice for breakfast and ate a normal lunch and dinner. I juiced whatever I had around the house: cucumber, carrot, beets, and some lettuce -- basically I had a juiced salad. It tasted very neutral, not bad. Nothing too noticeable about this day. I went to the grocery store and grabbed a few veggies to hold me over until I could make a Costco trip. Because it was Sunday and I had to work the next day, I made the juices for the next day and bottled them in glass bottles so that I could bring them easily to work. Clean up was somewhat of a pain -- not so much the juicer itself, but the piles of vegetables, the cutting boards, the wayward drops of juice, etc. My kitchen looked like a hurricane hit it.

Day T-minus-1:
With one day before beginning the full cleanse, I had green juice for breakfast (cucumbers, cilantro, zucchini, apple, pear, and peppers) and red/brown juice (Beets, carrots, red grapes, ginger, and spinach) for lunch, and as a farewell to solid food I had a chile verde burrito for dinner. I stopped at Costco on my way home and loaded up my cart with what felt like their entire produce section. It cost $130 for what was meant to be a week's worth of juice for two people (my fiance and I). They didn't have cucumbers, kale, or cilantro, so those came at additional cost the next day. Still, it wasn't significantly different than what we spend for groceries per week with normal food (we live in Hawaii, it's expensive.) I was feeling optimistic. I made the same juices for the next day and put the bottles in the fridge. Clean up was still a pain.

Day 1:
The official beginning of my cleanse! Juice as breakfast felt pretty normal. It didn't taste great, but I didn't miss having an actual "meal." I sipped on the green juice all morning so it was finished before lunch, when I switched to the red/brown juice. Not eating lunch felt a little weirder. It wasn't that I was hungry, per say, just that it felt bizarre not to eat. As the afternoon wore on it just got more strange. The body's instinct to eat is very, very strong and it works hard to get food into your mouth. It was so intense that a couple of times I actually had food in my hand before I remembered that I wasn't supposed to eat it. My brain tricked me, bringing up thoughts of plenty of healthy food options that I could normally eat without a second thought and it wasn't until the last second that my consciousness kicked in and reminded me that if it wasn't juice, it wasn't happening. I wasn't hungry, it just felt wrong not to eat. As I scoured my memory, I couldn't come up with a single time in my life when I had gone a day without eating something, That seems amazing to me.
With a lot of mental reminders and about a billion thoughts about food, I made it through the rest of the day and back home. I got home late because I had to stop at the store to get the cucumbers, kale, and cilantro, so I didn't have much time between getting home and going to bed. It took me almost 2 hours to clean my jars, juice my "dinner," juice 2 different kinds of juice for the next day, bottle them, and clean everything up again. I went to bed not hungry but annoyed with the whole process.

Day 2:
The pattern continued and got more intense. In the morning, I felt motivated and ready, but by afternoon I was frustrated and all I could think about was food, no matter how full I felt. My lunch juice was so gross, I could hardly keep it down without gagging. I had thrown in a huge variety of ingredients, and somewhere along the line something hadn't "juiced" very well and was catching in my mouth in the form of pulp and little bits of leaves that made me gag. I actually googled "juice cleanse gross" to try and find someone, somewhere who had shared in my misery. To add to my disgust, my tongue was coated in white and my mouth felt raw, presumably because of all the acid in the juices.

Green juice!

I got home and begrudgingly went through my routine of juicing dinner, then juicing for the next day. I remembered how full and clogged with pulp the juicer had looked before juicing my last juice (the disgusting lunch juice) the night before and wondered if that had contributed to the amount of sediment I'd had to choke down. Because of this, I cleaned out the excess pulp before making the third juice, and it made a dramatic difference. It was juice again rather than sludge. A tiny sliver of optimism...

Day 3:
I weighed myself for the first time since the Day T-minus-3 and found that I had lost 4 pounds. I felt conflicted -- happy to be a little lighter, worried that it wasn't healthy weight loss. After all, I'm not doing this for weight loss. My mouth still felt raw and coated. My office ordered lunch for everyone and I had to leave the building to escape the wonderful smells. It was horribly depressing, until (in get another desperate google search) I found that I was allowed to drink coconut water. I immediately went to a natural food store and bought the biggest carton I could find. It tasted like cake, like ice cream, like heaven. I drank my fill of that before returning to the office. The texture of my juice was better with the between-juices-juicer-rinse but the flavor was still disgusting, if I'm being totally honest. I began wondering if I would have more success with themed juices... maybe that would eliminate the "brown sludge" effect. My first experiment, for dinner that night, was watermelon gazpacho juice, made from watermelon, tomato, yellow peppers, one carrot, mint and cilantro. It tasted great and I was encouraged. I vowed to use color-coordinated ingredients so that they were appetizing instead of brown. I made my next-day juices accordingly, a beautiful vibrant green and a beautiful vibrant red.
I was feeling better about the whole process, even though I had developed a huge, angry zit on my cheek. Apparently this is normal at the beginning of a cleansing process.

Day 4:
Despite the pretty colors, the juices (pear, apple, spinach, celery, cucumber, and peppers for green and watermelon, tomato, beets, carrots, and plums for red) were still disgusting and still made me gag as I tried to get them down. My sense of smell seems to be on overdrive and everything smells like vegetable juice. Although I didn't have any of the headaches, dizziness, or energy depletion problems that some people describe during the first days of juicing, I was not enjoying my experience at all. I didn't feel any different, I didn't feel like there was a transformation happening, nothing... I was having a lot of trouble drinking enough water because my stomach felt constantly full and sloshy. My fiance, who was back on solid food, had pasta with tomato sauce that night and after obsessively smelling his food, I decided to make myself a juice version for dinner: tomatoes, carrots, celery, garlic, peppers, basil, and parsley. The first bite was delicious, and the rest of the twenty ounces of raw, cold, watery tomato saucey flavor was the worst thing I've ever forced myself to consume.

Juices ready to come to work with me

On the upside, my face was getting significantly better. It was less inflamed, and although the bumps were still there the skin between them was no longer red. Because of this, and my pure, stubborn nature, I kept going.

Day 5:
I decided to see if mixing fewer flavors together might improve the taste of the juices. I had also realized that tomato juice and watermelon juice are just not something I can enjoy. For breakfast I had green juice of just cucumber, cilantro, zucchini, apples, and spinach. It was better. The lunch juice was simple carrot and beet, and dinner was peppers, carrots, peach, and yellow beets. This was seeming more promising. I didn't feel quite so frustrated, although my mouth still felt awful. I also noticed that I was sleeping a little more soundly and that my hair seemed softer than usual.

Day 6:
Encouraged by my success with simplifying my juices (also easing the clean up aspect), I realized that I don't really enjoy vegetable juices mixed with a lot of sweet fruit juice. For whatever reason, it just grosses me out, so I changed my approach: vegetable only juices for the majority of my meals, with a small glass of pure fruit juice twice a day. This was so much better for me mentally - deal with the mediocre vegetable juice and then really, really enjoy apple juice or -- my best discovery yet -- the deliciously textured creamy peach concoction that results from juicing a ripe peach by itself. I still felt about the same... not bad, but certainly not "transformed" as so many converts claim, and I was on the fence about how long I wanted to keep going. Also, my body had started putting off a weird, vegetable-esque scent whenever I sweated, so that was a little weird. Not crazy about that.

Day 7:
I had promised myself at least a week, so this was an important day. I ignored the doctor's advice and swam in the ocean. I figured if I had my face submerged in cold water the whole time, exercising couldn't cause that much inflammation! I weighed myself again and had lost another 3 pounds for a total of 7 pounds. I wasn't overweight to begin with, so that's a pretty significant weight loss (whether that is good or bad I will leave open to interpretation.) I had planned on this being the last day since I wasn't really seeing any drastic changes or results, but this was the day when my intestines started gurgling and moving so I got curious about what was going on. The mouth coating had finally gone away, I was sleeping really well, and my outlook felt more positive than it had all week, so I decided to keep going. I must admit that my stomach felt light and clean like it hasn't for a while. My office ordered lunch again and I had no problem saying no. I picked up a few more vegetables (so many cucumbers!) and headed home, telling myself I'd just do one more day and be done with it. I also decided that the green juice was a little to bland and bitter with no fruit, so I found middle ground: half a pear added in made it perfect.

Day 8:
The skin on my face was almost completely healed and I'd been able to wean the topical cream down to once a day without any problem, which I was pretty excited about. The gurgling and such finally culminated in an, um, "elimination" that seemed to include things other than what I'd been juicing, so I was pleased and take that to mean that there was in fact some stuff that had accumulated in my intestines that could stand to be flushed out. I felt vindicated for this whole juicing thing and hope that it will translate into some improvement in my digestion. Thank goodness for that, because other than that, this day was a disaster. I had been excited to try a cold-pressed juice shop in town so I planned on that for lunch, but when I got there, it was closed for no apparent reason. I went to every hippy-ish cafe I could think of, but none had fresh juice. I was 30 minutes from my house and my juicer. I finally went to the natural food store and discovered that they had fresh carrot juice and fresh, fruit only smoothies. I got a small smoothie and a 14-oz. carrot juice and mixed them together. Close enough, I guess. I had planned on starting on vegetable broth that night, but I figured that since I went to such lengths to stay on juice for lunch I may as well finish out the day.

Day 9:
To be honest, this has gotten pretty easy. I see why, at days 8-10, people decide to just keep going for a while. Do I feel some profound transformation? No, I don't. I'm going to be straightforward here. But I do feel good, normal good, like when I eat normal clean food. Mentally clear, energetic, and I really do think my hair is softer and my skin is starting to look really good. However, it hasn't been some big life-changing experience, because I have the same feelings when I eat vegetables, fruits, and nuts supplemented with lean protein and whole grains. I feel even better when I'm exercising regularly, which I'm ready to start doing again. I think the only thing I feel that is unique to a juice fast is the feeling of clear, "flushed" intestines, and that is pretty awesome after years of trouble. My food cravings are also completely gone and either by my recipe tinkering or taste bud changes, the juice actually tastes pretty good to me now.
I will be slowly re-introducing solids to my system over the next few days, with lots of mild, easily digestible food and plenty of soups.

I couldn't bear to take a photo at its worst - this is 2 days
after it started healing (day 3 of juicing) compared to today.

So what did I learn?

Well, I learned a lot about the technicalities of juicing, mixing flavors, and the logistics of what it takes to do something like this. I learned that it certainly does feel beneficial, at least to me, to clear your stomach and digestive system of processed food for a little while. I learned that I still fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum between "juicing is just a scam" and "juicing is the answer to everything."

I think that for someone who eats a regular diet of unhealthy food and doesn't exercise, this could be the incredible, life-changing experience that so many people talk about. I know how I feel when I eat junk food on a regular basis, and it makes me feel mentally foggy, tired, lethargic, bloated, and heavy. Going directly from that to this would truly be a revelation. However, because I regularly eat a ton of vegetables, fruits, and healthy foods and limit my "indulgence" food to a minimum for the vast majority of the time, the experience wasn't as dramatic. For me, eating clean, whole foods and exercising regularly are still the best way to find my ideal balance of well-being. However, I totally reject the notion that juicing is a useless scam, because I can see the benefits myself.

Day 3 of juicing vs. today

The only negative thing I have to say about the experience is the possible imbalance in your body -- low protein, low fiber, electrolyte levels... other than that I don't have any major worries. And if you're doing it for 10 days or less, I don't think this is a major issue.

As far as the positives, although my results weren't dramatic, they were definitely there:
Cleared up the rash on my face (along with prescribed meds)
Abundant energy
Better/sounder sleep
Softer hair and skin, less itchiness on my itch-prone scalp
Reduced/eliminated food cravings
Overall feeling of lightness
Knowledge of a new way to supplement a healthy diet

I plan on incorporating juicing into my daily routine, probably for breakfast. That way I'll get my nutrient and antioxidant burst but still get regular food. I'm glad I had this experience, glad to start training again, and most of all, glad to have my face almost back to normal!

Have you done a juice cleanse? Tell me about it in the comments section! Helpful tips for others who might want to try one, thoughts, observations, suggestions, and questions are welcome!

Ironman 70.3 Hawaii 2015 Race Recap

After so much preparation, it's tough to put a big race into words that adequately describe the experience. Such is definitely the case here. Although I've done several triathlons and races in the last year, including Hilo triathlon, XTerra, and the Hilo Marathon, none of them have had that feeling of being BIG that I got before my first sprint triathlon and Lavaman Keauhou. Perhaps that is the nature of moving up in distance.

All my gear, ready to go

I had trained pretty impeccably. I didn't skip workouts (except for one bike ride when we were so exhausted we could barely think and just knew our bodies needed rest more than training) and I've been eating well so I went in feeling like I'd done pretty much everything I could, but the days before the race I still ended up with significant butterflies darting around my stomach. This race was important to me, and it felt like it. I was also ridiculously excited, and spent Thursday and Friday driving around blasting pump up music and dancing in my car to Ariana Grande, Pharrell, and LMFAO. Please don't judge me.

I scheduled my bike check-up for Wednesday before the race, but got an unfortunate call from BikeWorks that night saying that my brakes were about to go out (news to me, although they had felt awfully flimsy recently) and my deraileur was bent nearly beyond recognition (this I knew, but had been avoiding it -- Rich at Bike Works had bent it into submission so that it wouldn't stick but did rob me of my highest gear). At their strong urging I told them to go ahead with the repairs, and they promised to have it done in time and bring it to their Waikoloa store from the Kona one so it would be easier for me to pick up. Big thank you to Bike Works for making that happen.

The logistics of race day were much different than what I had done before, with bike check-in the night before, and dropping off T2 bags at the athlete check-in on Friday because there are two different transition areas. It seemed really complicated until I did it, and then it all fell into place pretty easily. I picked up my bike in Waikoloa, tried it out (holy cow, brakes! Extra gear that hadn't worked in 2 years!), and headed over to Hapuna to dorp off our bikes. The T1 transition area was bigger than any I'd ever been in before, and I marked and re-marked where I'd put my bike when dropping it off so I wouldn't get lost the next morning. Then, we headed home to rest, eat, and get to bed early. I started sipping Gatorade the night before in hopes of loading up on electrolytes.

I half-slept, half imagined myself racing most of the way through the night. I've long since given up on getting a good night's sleep the night before a race, so I tried to just relax and picture positive outcomes. We were back up at 4AM to eat (half a cinnamon raisin bagel, yogurt, and part of a Naked Green Machine smoothie, my go-to race morning meal), gather our things, catch the shuttle bus, and go to our transition area to prepare. Since I've had trouble feeling woozy and getting cramps on the bike in several races, I was determined to fuel more before the start, so I kept drinking my Gatorade and had 3 Clif chews, including 2 with added salt.

Starting at Hapuna, where I've done countless early morning swims, was surprisingly comforting. It felt like visiting an old friend, and as the sun rose I walked down to the water to take it all in. The sky and water were bathed in purple and pink, and the sand felt familiar between my toes. I looked out over the water, thought about all of my workouts there and how many beautiful mornings I'd spent with the ocean brushing over me as I swam, and felt a nice calm settle over me. I took a deep breath and walked back up to the transition area, just in time to grab my swim cap, goggles, one more chew, and kiss Sean goodbye and good luck as he headed to the start chute. (Young men start first, then older men, then young ladies, and finally the older women.)

I swear, this is my normal smile!

The next part is a little fuzzy. Somehow I got down to the start chute, where I smiled for what I thought was a cute photo but now laugh about because you can see the nervousness written all over my face. Before I knew it, I was in the water. As always, I seeded myself about a third of the way back from the front of the pack. There was a cheer as the countdown began, and then, with a cannon blast, we were off!

The swim is also a bit of a blur. I remember seeing someone backstroking in the midst of the mob kicking and flailing around the first turn and thinking it was weird (I found out later, after asking around, that it is a technique that is highly unnecessary if you're just an average age group athlete not vying for a podium spot designed to help you make a clean turn -- back stroke just past the buoy, then flip over onto your stomach facing the correct direction). I remember seeing a lone white swim cap far, far below me on the ocean floor, and wishing there were some fish around to look at (so weird, the things that cross my mind during a race!). I remember when I passed my first male competitor, and the rush I felt. And I remember elbowing some All World girl as hard as I could because she and her other All World friends had intentionally created a V-shaped line up in the water, to prevent people from passing them. Yeah, I was mad. It made me feel better when I beat them out of the water. Otherwise, my memory of the swim fades into "go, go, go, go, keep up the pace, keep up the pace..." My arms and lungs felt the burn but I swam hard because I knew it's my strong area and I wouldn't need my arms for the rest of the race. By my count after the race, I came out of the water 17th in my division of 56. I was happy.

T1 went smoothly -- I doused myself in sunscreen and ran my bike up to the mount line, which was placed cruelly on a short but steep hill. Volunteers were helping athletes get balanced on their bikes and then pushing them to get enough momentum going so as not to just tip over. I felt the push, pedaled hard, and off I went. A big thank you to everyone who volunteers, as I probably would have ended up on the ground without you!

The first part of the course is an 8-mile total down and back in the opposite direction as most of the ride. I was getting passed quite a lot during this portion, and I couldn't decide if I should be disappointed in how slow I was biking (that all these people were faster than me on the bike) or extremely happy about how fast I swam (that all of these people were slower than me on the swim). I tried to choose happy but was a little frustrated.

As we completed the out and back and headed up toward Hawi, things settled in. I was feeling good -- none of the nausea or dizziness that has haunted my previous bike starts. I attribute this to fueling more before the swim. I stopped getting passed which made me feel better, too. For quite a while there, it seemed like everyone was riding at nearly identical pace, which very little movement in the order of riders. The wind was manageable, for which I was incredibly grateful.

The rest of the ride up to Hawi was uneventful except for one unfortunate fellow who seemed have completely missed all discussion about passing rules, as he blissfully rode out of line to the left, in the passing lane, with no intention of passing whatsoever. He was slow, but I was unwilling to take the risk of getting a penalty for going triple-wide to get around him so I tried yell as politely and quietly as I could, "excuse me! Passing on the left!.... excuse me, I need to pass.... sir, you're in the passing lane..." until I realized I was running out of breath and patience and just screamed "get the fuck out of the way!!!" which sure enough, did the trick.

Mile 25 ish

As we reached The Hill, the 7-mile uphill stretch into Hawi, I was incredibly grateful for my intimate familiarity with the course. All of those hideously painful rides through that area were suddenly worth it as I watched athlete and after athlete struggle to choose a gear, as I sailed past them in my perfectly rehearsed gear routine. Right around this time I also started looking for Sean coming downhill the other direction, figuring the timing would be about right. I started feeling nauseous about 2 miles from the turnaround, but didn't realize it was because I was riding looking sideways for Sean until it was too late. Luckily at the halfway point my landlord, Don, and former neighbor, Evelyn, were waiting for us with signs, cheers, and encouragement, which perked me up at least temporarily.

This was where we approached the first aid station, something of an X-factor for me on the bike. I didn't know a) how to grab a water bottle while moving except for what I'd read online and b) whether the water bottle would fit into the cages on my bike. I decided to gamble and grabbed a bottle, tossing one of my own (crappy) water bottles into the trash area. It did fit into the cage, but much to my chagrin the well-meaning volunteer had completely ripped off the top of the cap, presumably to make it easier for me to drink out of but actually making the water trickle out as soon as I put it into my horizontal bottle-holders. Once it reached the point where the water level was below the cap when horizontal, it seemed to be okay except for big bumps, so I tried to focus on conserving a little and decided I'd be fine.

At this point, unfortunately, my nausea was hitting me full force. All I could do was push through, but I couldn't stomach the thought of eating another gummy block or drinking my electrolyte drink. I don't remember much else on the way back down the hill, just nausea (but no cramps!).

Surprise T2 reunion!

As I reached the turn off to the Fairmont, my stomach finally eased up a little and I got a nice second wind of energy. I went in to T2 focused and ready to run, and when I heard my name and turned around to see Sean's parents waving and pointing downward, I was briefly perplexed before I realized that they were directing my attention to Sean, who was sitting up against the fence in T2 getting his running shoes on. He was extremely sick, but headed out of transition as I racked my bike, put on my shoes, and put my number on.

I had planned to run between aid stations, stopping to walk through them and perhaps a minute more before returning to running. Just before the first one, I saw Sean's back and new he was in rough shape. I flirted for a moment with the idea of going on ahead because I was actually feeling pretty good at that point, but couldn't do it. I knew we had to finish together since we had the chance to do so, and I'm so glad I made that decision. Together we slogged through the long, hot run. Around the resort, through condo roads, all over the golf course... I kept pushing us to run more, he'd tell me when he needed to stop. He somehow managed to not vomit.

The aid stations in the run were an absolute delight and godsend. Sponges soaked in icewater to cool us, water and gatorade, and buckets of ice... oh my! This 13.1 miles actually felt significantly easier than most of my training runs because I wasn't ever overheated! I didn't eat a thing the whole time, but each aid station I alternated water and Gatorade, and my stomach stayed under control.

Success!

Again, I enjoyed covering familiar territory around the Mauna Lani area where we'd done part of our long training runs. It was fun going all over the golf course where we usually aren't allowed, and the grass was short and beaten down into a path of sorts, nothing like the long, squishy nightmare grass of the golf course we had to run on at the Keauhou Lavaman that had struck fear into my heart. That was quite a relief. At one point, near a pond, was a herd of at least 30 wild goats who seemed perfectly content to watch us in our efforts as they lounged about in the (unreachable) shade.

Around Mile 11 I started getting excited. All of our work, all of our training was about to come to fruition. Barring disaster, we were going to finish! And, to my surprise, I was going to finish in under 7:30 if we kept up our pace. I told Sean of my time goal and he gamely kept running despite being sick. As we crossed the lawn headed toward the finish his dad appeared and ran with us a little ways. All of my tiredness dissolved and I just felt elated. The last quarter mile I could not have been happier, and as we reached the finish line together I couldn't stop smiling. What a wonderful, powerful feeling it was.

The next wonderful feeling came when we hit the showers and I felt the strong stream of cold water wash over me, sweeping away at least a couple of the layers of sweat and grime that covered me.

So there it is: I have finished my first half Ironman, and all I want is more.

Timing is Everything: Obsession with the Clock

My first Ironman 70.3 is just 8 days away, and I'm feeling nervously prepared. I have done everything in my power to be fit and ready, but the butterflies are still fluttering away in my stomach. I suppose that any time you're reaching a new distance there are bound to be nerves involved, but this race in particular feels like a big leap -- from the can-maintain-the-proper-fitness-level-on-a-casual-commitment Olympic distance to the big leagues, where training is hard-fought, time-consuming, and difficult to maintain without constant work.

Some of my "this is a really big deal" feelings are coming from the fact that for the first time in my triathlon life, there are cut off times for each leg that I may actually have to focus on. So far, the cut off times have been well beyond what I would consider a threat, like 5 or 6 hours allowed to finish an Olympic distance that I do in 3-3.5 hours. This race, however, asserts its "serious athletes only" intentions with a total cut off time of 8 hours and 30 minutes. Up until this point I have known that I would be somewhere around the middle of the pack, give or take a little, but this race eliminates the bottom 1/3 of the pack in most races with its cut off times. I guess they figure the bottom 1/3 of the pack in most triathlons wouldn't put in the time necessary to train for these distances anyway, which moves me from solidly in the middle to scraping to finish in time. It is twice the distance as the Olympic triathlons I've done so far, but only gives 2-3 hours more time.

The cut off for the 1.2-mile swim is 1 hour and 30 minutes, which won't be a problem. The bike cut off is where I start feeling a little hint of stress. We must be off the bikes and running at five and a half hours after the start.

My predictions for myself (assuming nothing goes horrifically wrong) are:
Between 40 and 45 minutes for the swim
5 minutes transition (run from water to T1, get T1 bag, unpack it, inevitably forget something important, etc.)
4 hours for the bike... this is where I get nervous.
2 minutes for T2 (change shoes, stuff pockets full of energy chews, remember to put on hat!)
3 hours for the run... again this could go horribly wrong

That means that if all goes smoothly and well, I should be coming in at around 7 hours and 50 minutes, with 40 minutes to spare.

However, here are the many things that are freaking me out:
1. I am unfamiliar with the T1 bag/change tent format and feel like it's going to take me a long time to make sure I have everything I need.
2. In order to do the bike in 4 hours, I need to maintain a pace that I think is reasonable (4:15 minute miles) but not easy.
3. If there is significant wind on the bike course, I don't know if that pace is possible.
4. If I don't eat enough early on, I don't know if that pace is possible.
5. If I get a flat (especially a rear flat, god help me!) it's going to take me about 6 years to change.
6. I've never used a bike aid station. What if I fall/miss the bottle/get the wrong thing/miss the trash drop zone and get penalized?
7. On the run, I have no idea how my body will hold up. I could finish in 2:45, or it could take me 3:45. My runs have felt pretty decent (all relative, of course!) but who knows in the heat after 4 hours on the bike?
8. The heat is going to kill me.
9. The trails are going to kill me.
10. The grass is going to kill me.

So where does this leave me? It leaves me calculating endless scenarios with different times on the 3 legs to see if I would make it or not. These are the things I'm thinking about on 5 hour bike rides and three hour runs. In fact, oddly enough, I've found that doing mental math calculations is one of the most effective distraction tactics I have during long or especially difficult workouts. I spent most of the Hilo Marathon doing repeated calculations figuring out exactly what time I would finish down to the second if I kept various paces, not because I needed to but because it kept my mind off the pain yet focused. My mind rattles off something like this:
If I do a fast swim (40 minutes), a decent transition, (4 minutes), fast bike (3:40), fast transition (2 minutes), and fast run (2:45), I'd be in at 7:10 ish. Let's be honest, that isn't going to happen.

If I have a decent swim (44 minutes), a bad T1 (5 minutes), bad bike (4:15), bad T2 (4 minutes), and bad run (3:25), I don't make it before the cut off. I come in at about 8:34, incredibly pissed off. (I do think, however, that if I was that close to the cut off I could power through the torturous minutes required to speed up and get in on time.)

Somewhere between these two scenarios is what I'm aiming for. Perhaps a 43-minute swim, 5-minute T1, 4-hour bike, 3-minute T2, and 2:50 run. That would be 4:15 minute miles on the bike and 13 minute miles on the run, which is doable barring disaster. It would bring me in at 7:40, which I would be ecstatic about. Realistically, if I come in under 8 hours, I will be thrilled. Just finishing within the cutoff will make me happy. Despite my training, so much depends on the wind, the heat, and how well I adjust to the new factors introduced in this race.

So there they are, my fears laid out for all to see. If I've learned anything in this process, it is to acknowledge fears and work through them with steadiness and patience rather than attempting to circumvent them and I hope that by examining my nervousness, I can stay true to my mantra: Calm. Strong.

Bad Tans and Aching Eyes: Weird Triathlon Side Effects

When I started triathlon, there were some things I expected. Sore muscles, changes in body composition, fatigue… I was ready for these side effects. The deeper I go into tri training, however, the more strange and surprising things come up. Sinking in water instead of floating, increased appetite, and adjusted circadian rhythm were the beginnings, now I’m full on into triathlon-related oddities that I never would have thought of.

The first, most obvious, and entertaining, is tan lines. Oh my god, the tan lines. Living in Hawaii for nearly 5 years, I have some pretty well-cultivated bikini lines, but since increasing my training distances, shit has just gotten ridiculous. Triathlon apparel serves its purpose and, I suppose, has its own version of fashion, but the resulting tan lines are not pretty. Racerback lines permanently emblazoned on my back and shoulders, zebra stripe tramp stamps where my top rode up slightly from my shorts, and mid-thigh farmer-style shorts lines… my reflection in the mirror after a 5-hour workout is laughable. You lose all the excess jiggle on your body and replace it with beautiful, lean muscles, but those tan lines will keep you humble!

Terrible tan!

The second thing is a complete and utter mystery to me. I lose more weight the more I eat. When I’m not training seriously, I eat very little. A lot of vegetables, some fruit, a little lean meat, a tiny bit of whole grains, and a dessert each day. This is mostly because of my picky digestive system. As I exercise more and more, I am forced to increase my eating proportionally to avoid getting dizzy and light-headed. It seems inevitable that each time I up my training, I fail to up my calorie intake as much as is needed. At the beginning of this round of mileage increase, I was baffled because I wasn’t losing any weight despite the longer distances I was running, swimming, and biking. After my week of delirium, I started eating more. In fact, I started eating almost constantly, and oddly enough, it took only two days before the weight started coming off. Even now, two weeks later, if I eat more on a particular day, the scale goes down the next morning. Bodies are weird.

How I spent much of my week, avoiding bright light

The third and most painful thing was the discovery that if you squint for 4-5 hours on the bike, you can get strained eye muscles. DON’T EVER GET STRAINED EYE MUSCLES. Sore legs, sore arms, even sore abs I expect and understand, but sore eye muscles? You’ve got to be kidding me. For a week after our 50 mile ride my head hurt around my eyes, and it felt like whatever connected my eyes to my brain was aching and damaged. Every time I looked up or down or at a bright light, it shot pain behind my eyes. Closing them didn’t help. Sleeping was difficult. Watching TV, reading, or looking at the computer was awful. The sun felt like it was out to get me. Words looked a little blurry and tough to see. For several days I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, until I got back on the bike and realized that the aero position, head somewhat down while looking up at the road ahead, aggravated it more than anything else, especially when I squinted through my sunglasses. Once I noticed my squinting, I caught myself doing it all the time. I didn’t even realize that I had a weird habit until it made my life miserable, but I immediately set out to break it. It took about 5 days, but after a lot of conscious effort to relax my face and move my head to look around rather than just my eyes, the pain eased. When we did our 60-mile ride, I focused the entire time on keeping my face slack and not squinting. I also started wearing sunglasses on the run (instead of just a hat) to keep my squinting to a minimum. These steps seem to have solved the problem, but I still have to catch myself all the time to keep my face relaxed. So there you go – eye muscle strain is a little-known side effect of triathlons.

I never cease to be surprised. If you need me, I’ll be at the beach trying to counteract my bad tan lines, eating excessive amounts of food wearing three pairs of sunglasses to prevent eye squinting. 

No Rest for the Weary - A Tough "Recovery" Week

I've said over and over again that triathlon has a way of building you up while reminding you in no uncertain terms that you still have a lot to learn. There is no room for ego, no room for complacency. We were reminded of that the hard way this past weekend during what were supposed to be our recovery workouts -- a 9-mile run on Saturday (along with a 1200m swim) and a 45-mile bike on Sunday.

I have been looking forward to this weekend for about 10 days, ever since my week-long "bonk" in which I felt dizzy, tired, and confused for several days due to lack sufficient nutrition. It is tough to stare down an 11-mile run while feeling like you might pass out, and one of the things that got me through was focusing on the "easy" week coming up. It was like a beacon of hope. The problem was that my "short" workouts weren't actually short. They were still pretty brutal lengths for someone at our level of training.

We woke up Saturday at 7am, luxuriously late for us, and took our time getting up, eating, and relaxing a little. By the time we ate and left the house, it was 8:30. We arrived at Hapuna, our starting point, at a little after 9am. I know that in some places April is still fairly cool, but on the Kohala coast such is not the case. The sun was already blazing and the temperatures were upward of 80-85 degrees. Armed with chews, rice cakes, my bottle of electrolyte drink, and two dollar bills in case I needed to stop to refill it, we set out.

The first mile and a half is very, very hilly. They are short hills, but they definitely get your heart pumping with steep ups and your knees aching with steep downs. The first time I tried to run this stretch I almost died. Now I look forward to it with a kind of sick enjoyment. It is pleasant and quiet, away from the main highway with an ocean view some of the way and devoid of cars except for a few tourists who look at you like you have completely lost your mind for choosing to run it, and a few locals who come flying around the corners causing you to scramble quickly off to the side. The road is rough, but there are Franklin grouse and turkey in the bushes, the smell of warm kiawe wood is strong, and there is something I just like about it. Plus, I finally ran all the way up the biggest, steepest hill without walking for the first time on Tuesday of last week, so I'm feeling pretty awesome about it.

Puako Beach Drive, our running route, from above

At the end of this road, we turned down the hill onto a bigger street which runs through the beachfront neighborhood called Puako. Puako is an odd mix of very wealthy mainland transplants and local holdouts who lived there before it became expensive and, wisely, held onto their land, creating a place in which humble homes and sometimes run-down shacks sit next to manicured 8-bedroom mansions. It is quiet, flat, and the road is bordered by plentiful and colorful flowers of all kinds. It's a great place to run, especially to work on pacing. Conveniently, there is also a small general store that can serve as a refueling stop if need be. I ran by it during my last 9-mile run, desperately angry that I hadn't thought to bring money to buy water, every cell in my body screaming for more hydration. This week, I went prepared, and thank goodness, because it was every bit as hot.

Wild turkey at Puako!

I ran all the way to the turnaround point (4 miles) and back another 3/4 mile without walking. In the heat, with the hills, I was pleased with that. It was the farthest I've made it on that particular route. Right before I walked, however, I got overtaken by the heat. My body started freaking out, including those weird shivers that happen even when you're boiling hot, and my heart rate started to rise. Instead of slowing down, I kept going. Mistake. When I did stop to walk, I felt woozy and strange. I knew I should eat something, but couldn't. I did manage to drink my electrolyte drink, and focused on relaxing and slowing my heart rate. I was irritated that I had to walk so far (probably a quarter mile), but it was definitely the right move, because once I did I could eat a little, my heart was better, and I felt ready to continue. I ran back to the store, jogged inside, bought my precious water, and kept running.

I made it another mile or so, at which point the road becomes an ugly, long hill. I ran the first quarter mile or so, then gave in (again, heart rate!) and walked for a while. Compared to two weeks before, however, it was a success, because I only walked for about 2 minutes before running the rest of the way up, around the corner, and onto the highway. Last time I had to walk the entire hill. My "run" was hardly more than a bouncy walk, but it whatever, I kept going.

Almost the entire remainder of the run was on the highway, which I generally hate because of the wind, the car noise, the exhaust smells, and guys who like to yell things at girls while they run. The wind was bearable, and I was determined not to stop again. I ran, and ran, and ran. It could only have been about 2 more miles, but it felt like years. I was hot and coated in grimy sweat, and my legs started to feel ungainly and strange, but I kept going. It was terribly painful and wonderfully validating. Again, I reminded myself that my desire to stop was more mental than physical. As I turned the corner I knew I was almost there and couldn't quit, and it truly felt great to know that I stuck it out through that last stretch once I made it to the car. Although the run itself felt very rough, I felt better afterward than I had for the past two long runs, and my recovery was significantly faster.

Sunday brought our recovery week long bike, clocking in at 45 miles. Not having learned our lesson the day before, we waited until 10am to get started. (It's playoff season for the NBA and in Hawaii the games start at 7am!) We figured it would be okay because it was our easy week. The first 18 miles, down from Hawi into Kawaihae, flew by. We felt good, there was very little wind, and I was reveling in my good fitness and how painless it felt. Pride goeth before the fall. Just after Kawaihae there is a hill. It is a sneaky hill, one that doesn't appear to be long nor steep when you drive it in a car. It doesn't even look too intimidating when you approach it on the bike, but beware -- it is a killer. It is just the right combination of steep and long to knock the wind out of your sails. The steepness alone isn't bad. The length by itself wouldn't phase you. But put the two together, and it just seems to cause problems for me.

I felt every pedal stroke, but didn't give up. When I finally made it to the top, I thought it was just that hill that would cause me problems given how great I'd felt up until then, but sadly I was mistaken. We rode to the turnaround point just a few miles farther along before heading back the way we came. Unfortunately, the way back means re-gaining the elevation difference between Kawaihae and Hawi, so it is significantly more difficult. To make matters worse, the wind picked up into a fair headwind and my legs appeared to have turned to lead.

The Akoni Pule Highway - dry side

The Akoni Pule Highway - the green part

Each hill felt like a mountain. I was in embarrassingly low gears on every single one, and still struggling. The scenery is nice along this ride, with the ocean on one side, blue as blue can be, and the Kohala mountains on the other. I tried to focus on that, but all I could see was the shimmering heat waves oscillating over the road in front of me. It felt like being cooked in a broiler. There were pockets of slightly cooler air coming off the ocean, but the relief was short-lived before we were plunged back into the oven-like heat. As is always the case, the first sign that I needed more calories and/or hydration was that I started to get mentally foggy and emotional. I felt negative and suddenly my focus turned on me, wrapped up in frustration. I tried to power through for a while before giving in and stopping for a few minutes. Just getting out of the aero position helped, and I stretched my legs, back, shoulders, and neck while downing a couple of energy chews and a few drops of my precious water.

I can't say that I felt much better when we restarted, and when Sean passed and dropped me on the beginning of the long hill to Hawi, I almost cried, but I kept going. I told myself that I could stop again if I needed to once we made the turn around the north edge of the island, where the surroundings become green and beautiful. I rewrote the negative script in my head into just two words: "Calm... strong... " and repeated them over and over, pushing all other thoughts away. Oddly enough, it worked. As I reached the beginnings of the fields of green grass that run to the ocean on the left and to the mountains on the right, the air seemed to cool, my mind seemed to clear, and I knew I could keep going. I can only guess that this was the effect of the chews I ate hitting my muscles.

Then, suddenly, my legs were light and strong.

I powered up the hill like it was nothing. I kept shifting into higher gears, amazed that I could keep up my cadence on this hill with more and more resistance. I rode the next 5 miles of hill faster than I ever have before, amazed the whole time at what my body was doing. As we neared Hawi, I caught up to Sean. When we finished, like the day before, I was so glad I hadn't stopped again. I would have missed out on the incredible turnaround that happened. I didn't feel nearly as wobbly and tired after the ride as I did in previous weeks, despite the "bonk" in the middle, so although a large chunk of it felt horrible, I still felt fairly positive overall. It did, however, leave me at a loss for what to do about nutrition during my rides in order to avoid reaching the point I did. More work to come there...

This weekend reminded me of all that triathlon training is and can be. There is the kind of training that is difficult but doesn't push the boundaries of your mental capabilities, and then there is the kind that takes your limits and, with mind-blowingly difficult steps, expands them beyond where they've gone before. It takes real pain and real fight to get through it, and it had been a long time since I'd felt so far past my comfort zone. Oddly enough, it left me feeling more confident despite my poor performance, because I remember once again how much I can handle, how much I can push, and the seemingly infinite feeling of possibility that opens up.

This coming weekend, I will be ready, mentally if nothing else.

The Hardest Week of My Training Life

I have so much to write that I don't know where to start!

This week has been tough, no getting around it. We did a swim and an 11.4-mile run on Saturday, a 60-mile bike ride on Sunday, I swam 1.2 miles in the ocean on Monday, ran 6 miles Tuesday, and this morning I swam 1.6 miles and biked for an hour. Tomorrow I run another 6 miles before my rest day on Friday. If it sounds like more than I've done before, that's because it is. I realized yesterday that this week is the hardest training I've ever done. In my entire life.

This realization actually made me feel better, because it reminded me that it's only natural to be tired. As I write today I am actually feeling pretty good, but such was not the case for a large portion of last week. After my previous post, which was bursting with energy and good vibes, my energy took a nose dive. Wednesday and Thursday I felt tired and mentally foggy, so much so that it was really freaking me out. I was so tired coming home from work on Thursday night that I drove in the wrong lane for about 200 yards before realizing my mistake. Luckily I live in a tiny town and there was no oncoming traffic. Once I got home, I proceeded to ask Sean the same question several times, not remembering that he'd already answered it.

Because I was so woozy, I got nervous. Was I messing myself up permanently? Despite being exhausted, I got so anxious that on Thursday and Friday nights I couldn't sleep, instead lying awake in bed with my dazed brain running in worried circles. I did not feel at all prepared for the 11.4 mile run on Saturday, but I just told myself to do my best and push through.

Our route went from Waikoloa to the Mauna Lani hotel and back, winding through both resort properties. It was a nice run -- challenging winds on the highway, a few hills here and there, and pretty scenery most of the way. It also allowed me to refill my water part way through, which was great given the distance. I was surprised and pleased that I ran the first nearly 6 miles without stopping to walk. I actually felt surprisingly strong. I could have gone on longer except that I wanted to refill my water, after which I ran another 3 miles without walking. My breathing and lungs stayed strong, and my heart stayed under control, which is completely new for me at such long distances.

Our 11.4-mile run course

I was amazed that what finally slowed me down was actually my legs! I don't know that my lungs have ever outlasted my legs before! This is a big step, because it means that my fitness is taking big steps forward.

Unfortunately, my digestive system was not as cooperative, and I started getting abdominal cramps around mile 9. They only happened if I walked, so in theory if I can just keep running I may be able to hold them off until the finish, at which point I melt into a moaning, cramping blob. I'm not sure what set this off, given that I haven't had that issue since the Great Aloha Run in 2011. The only thing I can think of is the during-run fueling, which consisted of saltine crackers, chews, and HEED energy drink with chia seeds. Maybe the saltines and chia seeds are to blame? I'll have to keep experimenting before Honu, but the bottom line is that if abdominal cramps are the worst thing I get, I'll be thrilled. My SI joints, miraculously, have been causing me very few problems. They go out of place, but are not causing much pain.

After the run, I was beat. I went home and slept, which I think was a great thing to do to avoid the weird pseudo-drunk feeling I had the prior week. Finally, exhausted, I could pass out with my mind at ease. I also made it a point to eat more after my long workouts, since I have a history of under-eating and suffering the consequences (see my near-passing out on the bike episode for more on that!) and I believe that may have been another serious culprit of my brain fog.

On Sunday, we awoke to cold rain and huge gusts of wind. It was not an inviting situation for a ride. However, since we only have one day a week to get our long rides done, we gathered our gear, fears, and determination and hopped on the bikes. The first seven miles were wet and cold. I could feel the moisture kicking off the back wheel and soaking my entire back and head. Around mile 8 we emerged from the clouds just in time to get hit with wind gusts that threatened to knock us off our bikes. Now, there's normal trade winds, problematic wind, serious wind, and extreme wind, and I think this landed in the "serious" category. It was enough to make it scary to ride, because the side gusts were strong enough to move my bike a foot or two over at a time, making me bobble and wobble and get way too close to the guard rail or the road. Not my cup of tea.

60-mile bike route

I've read that in order to optimize your handling in wind, you're supposed to stay loose. Now, of course this is easier said than done because when a gust hits you and makes you lose your balance, your first physical instinct is to tense up stiffer than a board and hold onto your bike or dear life. It's a leap of faith to allow the wind to buffet you around a little without fighting back, but it does seem to help.

We rode a kind of reverse-Honu plus some route: from Hawi down to just past Waikoloa and back. By the time we reached the Queen K highway, the winds were variable and less scary. Once we turned around to head back up the hill, much to our dismay, they became a steady headwind. Fighting our way up the elevation gain was not fun. At about 45 miles, both of us were getting a little dizzy and not thinking clearly. We stopped for a few moments to eat a little something and clear our heads. I can't say we felt much better once we started again, but we kept going.

When we reached the long hill leading up to Hawi, I reminded myself to take it slowly and stop if I needed to. My determination got the better of me and I did not stop. I pedaled, slowly against the wind, for what seemed like forever. With my conditioning where it's at it has become more of a mental game than anything else. My legs, although tired, were fine. They were not burning or exhausted. There was still power left there. My lungs were good, my breathing under control. I wasn't gasping for air. And yet, I wanted to stop so badly I could hardly stand it. Every few minutes I checked myself - "legs? Yes, they are okay. Lungs? Yes, they are okay. Heart rate? Yes, it's okay." and as long as the answers continued to be "okay," I kept going. I know now that losing the mental game is the worst feeling you can have. Knowing that your body could have kept going but you let yourself quit is excruciating, even more excruciating than the millions of uphill, wind-hampered pedal strokes.

For the second time now, I made it all the way up that horrible hill and to the end after a long ride without stopping. I was full of relief when we reached our finish line at Sean's truck. Again, I went home, ate well, and slept for an hour before doing anything else, willing my body to heal itself, be strong and healthy, and continue to carry me along in my training.

This is the hardest I have ever pushed my body. That is an amazing thing to wrap my head around. Yes, Xterra and the Hilo Marathon were harder in an acute sense, but this is the most difficult week I have ever done -- the most endurance I have ever asked of myself. It reminds me to stop and thank my body for what it's doing, and to be easier on myself when I feel tired. It also makes me appreciate each of the fitness gains I see happening, despite the fatigue. I mean seriously, I used to feel after a 3 mile run like I now do after 11 miles.

The upcoming week is a recovery week, meaning that the mileages go back down a little for 7 days. Then, there is one more push -- the final push, the hardest push -- leading up to the race taper. Our longest run will be 14 miles, and the bike will be 65. I don't feel it now, but I know when the time comes I'll be ready to face it down.