Trek 2009 Women’s Race Series – Duathlon (1.5 mi run/10 mi bike/2 mi run) - Disneyland

Time: 1:14:10 (goal – around an hour – oops!)
Run 1 – 13:43 (goal – 12 min); ranked 139 of 554 female racers
T1: 1:38
Bike – 41:07 (goal – 30-35 min); ranked 254
T2: 1:38
Run 2 – 16:03 (goal – 20 min); ranked 213 (PR!!!)
Overall rank: 201/554
Age Division Rank: 28/56

How To Ignore Sound Training Advice & Still Cross the Finish Line

It’s looking as if 2009 will go down as a highly unfocused and undisciplined, devil-may care race year for me – hence, the title of this post and race report. Maybe that’s just what I need right now – I don’t know. I just kinda went off the rails after the tri last September and haven’t been as hard-core in my training or as committed to racing. Heck, I even missed out on my chance to be a Legacy Runner (cuz I’m all about titles and awards) at the Surf City Marathon this year and all I needed to do was enter and run the 5K!!!! Before it sold out…

But rather than fight this lackadaisical attitude, I’m gonna go with it and see where it takes me – because I think my body and mind are taking an extended vacay right now to prepare for some crazy shit in the future…like a 3rd place age group medal.

Have Race Gear Prepped and Laid Out for Race Morning

Like everything but my Garmin running watch!!!! You know, that overpriced watch that helps me monitor my heart rate (too high for my liking and possibly safety), mileage (is this torture over yet?!?) and pace – cuz God knows after two years of running, I still can’t tell the difference between a 10-minute mile versus an 8-minute mile without that thing (except that 8-minute miles hurt more)!

So, yes, it would help if I would plug it in properly to the charger. But that didn’t happen, I suppose, because a few days prior to the race, I had run some blistering intervals with my trainer Rick and the resulting PTSD prevented me from plugging the thing in right!
What makes this boo-boo more egregious is that I had done this VERY SAME THING last year at the Placentia Get Fit 5K!!!! Yeah, you should have seen me get my freak out on then! I couldn’t run with just a regular ol’ heart rate monitor!!!! My poor husband Gary couldn’t find the Valium fast enough…for either of us…

But what gave me peace of mind in the wee hours of Sunday morning was that I had PRd last year without that pricey beast of a running watch. I ran an 8:30-ish minute mile – my best race time ever. I thought that if I could pull this stupidity off a second time, then surely another PR was on the horizon. I dropped a couple f-bombs (for my own amusement) and went on my merry way to Disneyland.

Result: ANOTHER PR!!!! In final 2 mile run, ran an 8:01 minute mile (with walk breaks). I never once looked at my heart rate monitor to check out my heart rate (a major feat). I used it only to judge time . . .and when I got those minute walk breaks!

Do Not Alter Your Pre-Race Nutrition On Race Morning

Stick with what works; with what helps you run a strong, safe race. Don’t wanna be surprising your adrenaline-laden tummy and body with pre-race surprises! Really bad things can happen if you try this. Unless you’re me.

Now, I didn’t go all Usain Bolt and chow down a Big Mac before a 100-meter Olympic sprint. I went minimalist this time. I eschewed traditional coffee with creamer and half a peanut butter sandwich on oatnut bread for…coffee, black and a couple teaspoons of Jif. And water (see Mud Run race report for significance of water). I drank water until I emptied my bottle 10 minutes before the race. My mouth started to get dry, but I think that’s pre-race adrenaline and nerves. I was able to run to a water fountain pretty soon after the race started.

Result: Hydration is a big thing for me. I’m an Aquarius for God’s sake! I felt better for the most part throughout the whole race. Heck, I PRd, so I’m going to try this minimalist approach again!


Do Not Use the Race to Break In New Running Shoes

There’s physiological and psychological factors at play here. You can injure yourself running in shoes with which your body is unaccustomed. And why mess with a shoe that makes you feel like Usain Bolt? You and your running shoes should have a beautiful relationship.

Unless you find a hole in your favorite pair of Asics (orthotics fitted to the shoe) a week before the race. And you haven’t heard back from your Asics connection who gets you a sweet deal on your running shoes. And you decide to get fit tested at the highly recommended Running Lab. Two days before the race. Oh, no, my friends. The fun doesn’t stop here – it’s just beginning!

Now I had heard about the very excellent work that Running Lab does on fit testing, but I never heard that to do this outstanding work it requires time and appropriate clothing. Time I don’t have in my afternoon a few days before the race and clothing that least lends itself to running. Oh, yeah – those bastards weigh you, too! Talk about getting started on the wrong foot!
But they poked, prodded, shook their heads and clucked sympathetically (for themselves, not me!) as they observed the staggering difference in leg measurements; a freak of nature over-pronation issue; questionable ankles and other things they had to consult their bio-mechanics guy on! I’m sure they wanted to tell me to hang up my running shoes; that it was hopeless and physically dangerous to me and other runners if I continued, but the commission on a $150 pair of running shoes was far more enticing to them.

Do they send me out with Asic 2120s like I have been wearing since I started running? Heck no! I walk out of there with these industrial Saucony’s – a completely different shoe with a completely different purpose! These things are ugly! They look like the corrective orthopedic shoes that doctors in the 70s used to torture their patients with. They are the running equivalent of a dunce hat!

Result: Massive humiliation and ego-bruising; loathing of parents and their genetics passed down to me; and a depleted checking account. The jury is still out on the shoe and its performance because the jury is still embarrassed by her ridiculous Sauconys!

Post-Race Re-Fueling

Lots of different theories on this that mostly espouse refueling your exhausted muscles with nutritious foods. There are some people who train hard, eat properly and would never dream of polluting their precious post-race bodies with an XL pizza – those are the Chicken and Brown Rice People.

So why do all the best races have beer gardens? Why are some of the best races within post-race staggering distance to cool neighborhood watering holes?

Clearly, I’m no Chicken & Brown Rice Girl (although my body has put me on notice about this matter!). I’m an Efusjon-swilling, waffle & butter-eating (believe it or not, this is a rarity) post-race Wine-Tasting Girl! Nothing repairs the muscles like splitting 10 bottles of whites, reds, and sparklings with a few of your buddies. Wine, cheese, bread and dancing at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night is how I reward my body for a PR!

Result: A very humbling hangover, alcohol bloat and strange, inexplicable bruising which may have had to have something to do with my husband rescuing me from an ill-timed pool plunge.

By the way, this blog took longer to write than it did to finish this race…

Camp Pendleton Mud Run - And the Dirty Little Secrets of Mud Runs

And the Dirty Little Secrets of Mud Runs

The sequel to the mud run begins at home. When you try to rescue your race clothes . . . the morning after and that smell of mossy lake funk has taken over your laundry room.

We’re in a recession, right? So why discard my trust work out and race clothes just because I got a little mud on them? After all, there was hardly any mud - that thing I bitched about! Because you’ll spend more on your water bill trying to wring out all the dirt and mud in your clothes than on new workout clothes. And because I'll need yet another shower after trying to wring out my clothes!

You Only Get 24-Hours to Monday-Morning Quarterback and Beat Yourself Up. Then it’s time to get back to work. Much harder work.

Running events aren’t strictly about competition, camaraderie and testing one’s limits – they’re life learning events – big Ah Ha! moments from someone up there thumping you over the head. Sometimes real freakin’ hard! Some one or thing trying to tell you that you have amazing gifts and that you better start taking care of them (giving them plenty of water is a really good start!). Real good care of them. Because the time with we have our gifts is fleeting. And the clock is always ticking . . .

Camp Pendleton Mud Run - The Just Plain Ugly

The Just Plain Ugly:

Dehydration. I am not an athlete – not even close. I suffer from Adult-Onset-Athleticism and the effects of working with a trainer (Rick, Rick, Rick) who is part miracle worker and part Jedi Mind Trick Master. I have dealt with a weight problem, low-self esteem, depression and other demons virtually my whole life. It wasn’t until my late 30’s that I started feeling very Lara Croft Tomb Raider and decided to give this whole racing thing a shot as a hobby. A very demanding, time-consuming hobby.

That said, I have had a fortuitous intro into running and multi-sport events. I have read soooo many race reports about professional-level athletes who bonk; fail miserably; have hellacious race experiences; and generally crap out despite their life-long training and God-given abilities (and perhaps, HGH in some cases). Total racing horror stories.

Yet, I have been so blessed as to only experience minor racing discomforts (a minor injury here; the humiliating sound of my flabby thighs slapping together at top speeds; a heart rate that surpasses 190) and a ton of small victories over the past two years. I am 41 and could still stand to trade in 15 pounds of flab for more muscle, but nothing remotely horrific has happened to me on race day. Until Saturday.

Dehydration is one of the worst enemies of a runner or endurance athlete. Runners are told that once you feel thirsty, your body is already dehydrated. Dehydration can hospitalize your ass and possibly kill you.

Well, guess what I felt standing in the starting corral 10 minutes before the race start? Thirst and dry mouth. As I keep myself on the hydrated-plus side, this was a discomfort that I thought would be assuaged at the water station at mile 1.
We went out harder and faster than planned for mile 1. We might have been at a 7:57 pace – nothing that should have made me feel as crappy as I felt after mile 1. I wasn’t very pleased with my body, but I was determined to finish and thought a few ounces of water would fix everything.

By the time you feel thirsty, you’re already dehydrated…

Guess what I drank the entire trip to Pendleton? Coffee. What does coffee do other than possibly act as a performance enhancer? Dehydrate you!!! Guess who gave that no freakin’ thought whatsoever as she discarded her Arrowhead water in favor of coffee? Guess who was more freaked out about having to take a whiz on the race course, having to use stinky porta-potties and experiencing that oh-so uncomfortable sloshing feeling one can get from running with too much in the tummy? Guess who thought she thought she had her crapola nailed down by eating a relatively healthy pre-race dinner of scallops and rice and a breakfast of half a peanut butter sandwich sans a healthy dose of H20?

After mile 1, I’m having difficulty breathing and filling my lungs with air. I develop a side stitch – something that I have only felt once or twice before a couple years ago and sucks butt. The stitch eventually dissipates, but then the huge bloaty, uncomfortable pain sets in between my sternum and gut. I’ve become the turtle of team of jackrabbits which has the potential to humiliate the crap out of me, but I believe I will recover and finish after some walk breaks.

By the time you feel thirsty, it’s too freakin’ late . . .

Somewhere on a hill around mile 2.25 I start suspecting that dehydration could be the culprit to my sorry-ass performance. Again, I know I will finish. I put it out of my mind and try to walk it off. A quarter mile later – I experience one of the worst feelings a runner can have in 70+ degree heat – shuddering chills – and the realization that I’m not sweating as much as I normally do. Hell No! I’m not gonna be one of those sad sacks that gets carted down the hill in an ambulance. Cute Marines or not! I will not not finish a race! But I know this could be bad for me. Really bad. To my ever-growing disappointment, I take yet another walk break. And I tell no one about this except Gary . . . on the way home.

By the time you feel thirsty … You know happens to your heart rate when your body is dehydrated? It SKYROCKETS because it has to work harder to do even the simplest things. Dehydration can cause kidney and heart failure. Dehydration can lead to death. And if you live to tell the tale - the dehydration headache will be tougher and nastier than an overly-hilly race course. Trust me on this. The pain drove me to tears last night.

Camp Pendleton Mud Run - The Bad

The Bad:

The Hills to Mud Ratio. Was it the weakened economy that precluded Camp Pendleton from making more mud or the rabid environmentalists that don’t let anyone have any fun anymore?

All week long, I read blog after endless blog (like mine) about the race and the inconviences of stinky, oozy, mossy mud that gets in places mud doesn’t remotely belong. About how freakin’ well-conditioned you have to be to squat-walk through small tunnels; run through a tire obstacle; hurdle 5’ walls and run with 10 pounds of mud clinging to your shoes and body with a Marine hurling insults at you; and getting hosed down steep hills by fire hoses. So what, I said. I’m gonna have fun!

But very few of these blogs focused on the endless amount of hills; their proximity to the sun; their grades and how much the course and topo maps LIED!!!! It’s a real hoot when those adorable course marshals tell you that you’re climbing up the course’s last hill, when alas it turns out, the steepest, gnarliest m-fers are still ahead of you and waiting to test your mettle, lungs, quads, glutes and calves.

When I enter a race called the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, I want mud and Marines (the two finest selling points for a female runner)! EVERYWHERE! Don’t let those PETA-like, rabid environmentalists dictate that Camp Pendleton use Super Soakers instead of bona-fide-tear-your-skin-off-fire hoses! Mother Earth and her runners want water and mud – especially while the earth and its inhabitants are microwaving themselves! This event occurs only 3 times a year – the earth will not dehydrate because Camp Pendleton wants to raise money for the people who would give their lives for us! And Mr. Obama, could you please return our Marines in time for 2010 Hard Corps Race Series?

Racing with Your Trainer: Your trainer 10 years your junior bounds up hills ceaselessly energetic like a mountain goat – even late in the race – as your well-conditioned legs and lungs want to call it a day. At mile 1.5.

Douche-bag Behavior: The USMC informs you that the race starts at 9 a.m. – a very, very civilized race start. What kind of an a-hole are you that you show up nearly an hour late; shove your way through the team runners THAT GOT THERE ON TIME during the National Anthem on a Marine base and DELAY the team start?

And what kind of jerk-off are you that steals an Under Armour cap?!?

Douche-Bag Behavior (mine): Bypassing the HUGE lines of patient, deserving post-race runners waiting for those heavenly, cold showers by exploiting lemming-like tendencies and a minor logistical shower flaw – entering on the unused, opposite side of the showers. I told myself that I was entitled as it was my personal revenge for those stupid, disrespectful m-fers mentioned above.

The Camp Pendleton Mud Run: The Good, The Bad, The Just Plain Ugly and The Dirty Little Secrets of Mud Runs

My initial draft of this blog was in the form of an open letter to the mud run race organizers to either add mud to said event or rename it the Camp Pendleton Hill Hell and Back Run due to the relative surplus of hills to actual mud. But after hosing down and wringing out my race clothes and getting nothing but brown water out of them, categorizing the race by good, bad, ugly and dirty seemed far more appropriate.

The Good:

Young, cute Marines.

I finished it! Despite the fact that my longest training run was 2.5 miles and that I was 40 the last time I’d even looked at a hill in a vaguely athletic manner. Despite that pesky little dehydration issue that kicked in before the race even started (but more on that in the Just Plain Ugly section).

My pit crew, Gary. That man suffers with me when the alarm goes off at the ungodly hour of 4:45 a.m. race day; drives endless minutes off two exits to find me suitable facilities when the caffeine kicks in; waits ever so patiently for the start and finish to try to shoot a decent shot of me; and shows up at just the right time with a post-race Blue Moon brew. This man was delivered to me by the running gods. As Gatorade says, “That’s G!”

Young, cute, friendly Marines.

Running with a team comprised of friends and strangers (are there really any strangers in running?) called Team Mixed Nuts – people who inspire, push you, make you laugh and try to distract you from the evil your body has in mind with vacuous conversation. Note to Rick: I’m on to you and your tricks, buddy. You get away with them because I let you! Note to Kristie: Call your buddies at Chanel and tell them to start making athletic eyewear! You rock, girl!

Young, cute friendly Marines from out of state that thought I was cute.

My body, guts and spirit – si se puede! Sure, they let me down a little on Saturday. But no matter how much I may beat myself up for my shortcomings on Saturday – this body, whom I refer to as Cartman-like or fat-ass, and on some days despise with a passion equivalent to my passion for physical challenges – performs miracles that amaze me. It goes fast when I least expect it; quits feeling pain when that’s all I should be feeling and just refuses to give up.

The young, cute friendly Marine from out of state who liked my cowboy hat.

Spectators who cheer for total strangers and put their hands out for a high-five from a runner! They make you feel like an Olympian when your body makes you feel, well, like Cartman.

Being able to laugh at yourself when you fall on your butt after BOTH 5’ assisted wall climbs and enjoying the “active rest” while plummeting down a hill.

16 days until duathlon! OH NO I DIDN'T!!!! Endurance Training Run Next Saturday!

You know my long-suffering trainer Rick Lucero whom I've been talking about since my first tri last September?

Ever the torture master, the sadistic m-f'er texts me late in the work day when I'm not thinking straight and my blood sugar is low and invites (word used extremely loosely) me to join his team ( a bunch of skinny, fast runners) in next Saturday's Camp Pendleton Mud Run. Sounds like harmless fun on a summer morning doesn't it? Perhaps a good training exercise for the following week's duathlon?

About that . . . 1/3 of the course (of a total of 6.2 miles - you do the math!) is a steep hill; there are 2 USMC wall climbs (ummm, Full Metal Jacket and Jarhead come to mind); a steeple jump and other obstacles for clods like me to negotiate; hay bales and a slippery hill and a sand crawl . . . and running in mud! I can't even run fast on a treadmill right now! WTF?!? I haven't run more than 2.5 miles straight on a treadmill since more than a year ago before I decided to train for a tri!

I do my level best to not commit, but that man can smell my bull crap from Uranus! And ever the Jedi-Mind-Tricker that he is (he told me it was about a 5-mile run - Arizona school system math? ) , I find myself committing about 5 text messages later.

And then I take a good hard look at the course map, the rules and the completion time limit . . . guess who feels like the slow, fat kid in the group? HELL NO!

But here's the thing about awesome trainers like Rick (and my sweet husband Gary who goes along with this as long as he doesn't have to do it himself) - they CHALLENGE you and INSPIRE you. He has this insane way of making you believe that you can do this crap and do it really freakin' well. He makes me feel like I'm a female Usain Bolt . . . yeah, and I drink Rick's cyanide-laced Kool-Aid at least twice a week! So I don't say no to the crap he throws at me . . . ever. And it's worked for me for more than the last two years . . .

I'm actually looking forward to this in a sick and twisted way. And you're all invited to witness the spectacle! Please bring lots of soap, water, towels and dry clothes! And lots of champagne and martinis!

Just Du It! 19 Days Until Duathlon: There Will Be Pain

I'll admit it. I was feeling macho after yesterday's 15 mile bike ride and 1 mile run....
Up until around 8 p.m. last night when those trouble-making quads of mine (whom you met in the previous blog) started to scream, burn and generally remind me that I was no Lance Armstrong. Really?!? Without futher delay, let me present to you more lessons from my quads:

1. 40 is the new 80 . . . when you foolishly zip off on your MOUNTAIN BIKE (not one of these thousand dollar 2-lb. carbon fiber deals) after a 3-month outdoor cycling lay-off! My wonderful husband had to interrupt his Angel game viewing to point and laugh as I crawled up the stairs like an 80-year old crypt keeper.

2. Muscle memory is a myth! If my muscles (to use that term very lighlty) had any memory whatsoever, then they'd remember that a 15-mile bike ride is a cake walk (did someone say cake?!?!). But MY muscles suffer from dementia - and don't remember that the things I did with ease in September 2008 should be just as easy if not easier 7 months later with all this flippin' training! Just ask my long-suffering strength and conditioning trainer Rick Lucero (you know, the cat I never listen to?) - who still can't get me to competently perform certain relatively simple exercises. We still haven't mastered that whole walking and chewing gum thing...

3. The elevators in the St. Joseph Outpatient Pavillion parking structure are there for a reason! No, they're not just there for those poor patients who suffer the indignities of defos and other rectal indignities. They're there for idiot weekend warrior employees like me who can't negotiate the stairs either upstairs or downstairs after spending the evening admiring their rock hard (but extremely sore) quads!

Just Du It! Duathlon Training Advice From a Working Woman Wanna Be Athlete

Considering that I will be racing on my bike in 20 days, I decided it would be wise to dust the thing off and take it for a spin...since it hadn't been out of my garage since February...

Here are some lessons learned on the bike trail:

1. Carbs in alcohol are not useful carbs for your body. I've been working really hard to disprove this over the last few years, but my quads would not cooperate.

2. Don't ever listen to your quads when they ask for a break. They sucker you into thinking you'll be treating them so well with a little rest stop. Ignore them! They go on break and stay on break. They don't care that you still have 5 miles to ride and 1 mile to run.

3. Bicycle bells are for douchebags!

4. My people are very resourceful. If the price of nopales at Superior Market is not to their liking, they gather the whole familia together and pick them off the side of the bike trail.

5. Efusjon Edge takes the edge off that nasty dehydration thing you get from exerting yourself in the sun after a night of wine and champagne...and pizza...and tiramasu...

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Brea 8K - February 2009

I broke a sweat on this race posing for pictures and watching the real runners finish!