Jason and I signed up for the inaugural Seattle Rock ‘n Roll Marathon that’s happening this Saturday. We wanted to do the full but when we ran it by Teresa she gave us an “Are you serious” look and convinced us that tackling a marathon two weeks after doing a 70.3 isn’t the smartest idea we’ve had this year. We begrudgingly settled for the half, but after shredding my feet in Boise I’m thinking I made the right decision. I’d like to finish in under 1:50, having done a 1:52 and change at the Vancouver Half Marathon nearly two months ago. However, I haven’t run much lately (I wouldn’t call my Boise lurch much of a training run since I was going pretty slow, and since then I’ve been in recovery mode and letting my feet heal) so I’m not sure how well I’ll do. Jason’s itching to do a sub 1:40 and I think he’ll pull it off because he’s pretty stubborn and has been doing great with his training this season. Plus, even if he does pass out, at least we’re in our hometown so I can just drag him over to Harborview, get him pumped full of IV fluids and head home. So…those are our Saturday morning plans. I’ll post another entry letting all five of you who read this blog how well we did. If you’re watching the race, be sure to cheer on the TN Multisport runners and give us plenty of encouragement....

I was thinking that I’m kind of bad-ass for Die Hard-ing it through a half Ironman with bloody feet, but I immediately humbled up when I heard about how the top pros finished in Boise. First of all, Chris Lieto busted out a 2:04 bike. That is sick. He averaged 27 mph for 56 miles. I can’t even average that high a speed for a sprint race. With a bike time that killer, you’d think he’d easily win, right? Well, it certainly looked that way. Lieto was ahead of Craig Alexander by nearly a minute and a half with one mile to go on the run. Normally that’d be it — that’s too big a deficit to make up in such a short distance (unless the person you’re trying to catch is doing like a 10 minute mile or something). Lieto ran a 1:19 half marathon, averaging 6:03 minute miles. That is FAST…but Craig Alexander, by the grace of God, ran his final mile in like a 4:46 and beat Lieto by two heartbreaking seconds (check out the photo finish over at Ironman Boise’s website–it’s gut wrenching). First of all, I can’t believe that after swimming 1.2 miles, biking 56 miles and running 12.1 miles, Craig Alexander was still able to bust out a sub-5 minute mile to squeak out the win. His total run time was 1:13:44, averaging a 5:38 pace. Good grief. Secondly, can you imagine how Lieto must have felt? Two weeks ago he lost to Craig Alexander and took 2nd at the Kona 70.3, and he gets win-blocked again by the same dude. I bet Lieto has made a little Craig Alexander voodoo doll and is stabbing the holy hell out of it. Major props to both athletes. I can’t imagine biking or running that fast. They’re so...

I’m finally getting around to writing my race recap of Ironman Boise 70.3. In a nutshell, it didn’t go great. In fact, everything that could go wrong pretty much did go wrong, except for the fact that I didn’t have any mechanical problems on the bike or any flat tires. Other than that, Boise was a bust but I still managed to PR by 20 minutes. Prologue The half Ironman was on a Saturday and boasted a point-to-point bike course (meaning two transition areas instead of one) and a 2 pm start. On paper that sounded awesome — you got to sleep in instead of getting up at butt crack of dawn o’clock, and you could get a proper meal instead of choking down oatmeal. Huzzah! I put off signing up until the week of the race because I had been having knee problems lately and wanted to make sure my body felt healthy before shelling out a couple hundred dollars for the race. Unfortunately for me, they closed online registration the week of the race so I had to sign up in person. Traveling to the Race Jason and I loaded up the Subee, strapped our bikes onto the hitch and drove the 8 excruciatingly boring hour drive through eastern Washington, most of Oregon and into Boise. The drive pretty much consisted of the following: brown nothingness brown nothingness brown nothingness ridiculous thunderstorm brown nothingness Pre-Race Preparations We finally got to Boise, and the next day Jason and I headed to the Expo Center to pick up our registration packet. I had to sign up in person and was forced to bequeath my unborn child over to the Ironman brand (Jesus Christ, race-day sign up is so freakin’ expensive). I also decided to rent race day wheels to see what they were like. They were kind of pricey but still tons cheaper than buying a set of race wheels (which can cost $2,000 and up). After Jason and I finished up at the Expo Hall, we drove over to the swim start so we could drop off our bikes at T1. After a test bike ride, we got in the water for a 10 minute swim, and holy hell was that water cold. I flailed around for a couple meters before running into a group of idiot kids who thought it was a good idea to take a dip in the sub-60 degree water in bikinis and swim trunks. I had the following conversation with one of them: Him: “Are you still cold even in your scuba suit?” Me: “Yeah, this water is pretty cold.” Him: “I’m freezing! How much did your scuba suit cost?” Me: “It’s not a scuba suit, it’s a wetsuit.” Him: “Oh…how much did your wetsuit cost?” Me: “$650.” Him: “Really? I only have $5…how much does it cost to rent a wetsuit?” At that point I was thinking, “Screw you, junior, I’m not lending you my suit,” so I swam off and finished my miserable workout. Race Day The next morning we woke up and went downstairs to eat breakfast in the hotel’s dining area. I grabbed a bowl of cereal but upon looking down at it, I felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake me so I only managed to poke at it with my spoon and not eat anything. When we got back to our room I promptly threw up. Twenty minutes later I yakked again, barfing up water and foamy stomachy goodness. Jason looked at me with a mixture of empathy and disgust, asking if I was feeling okay and if I should race. I called Teresa for advice. Teresa:...

It’s been a while since I’ve posted (traveling and work has keep me occupied), but I thought I’d finally introduce a new series I’ve been wanting to blog about for a while now. I’ve tentatively dubbed it “It Ain’t Easy Being a Triathlete,” but for brevity’s sake I’ll just call them “Triathlete Woes.” For my very first woe I thought I’d talk about something that, well, bugs me about training: the bugs. I’ve run through countless gnat clouds and have had to pick teeny bug carcasses off my sweaty face. Trust me, few people can pull off the “bug beard” look, and I am not one of them. I’ve also eaten/inhaled many a bug while running and biking, causing me to choke and sputter as the creature unsuccessfully attempts to escape out of my stomach and lungs. I think the absolute worst, though, is when you’re biking over 20 mph and a frickin’ bug bounces right off your face. You hear that “THWACK” noise and feel a heavy sting as a blurry black object ricochets off your cheek, and you immediately think “Ewwww.” So true. (Diagram courtesy of Indexed) Last year I did a 50 mile ride in Yakima, and I was riding along a long, open stretch of highway when I felt something bounce off my inner thigh. I didn’t think anything of it until about ten seconds later when I felt a sharp, searing pain on the inside of my leg. I stopped and hopped off my bike to inspect what the hell had happened. It turned out that a freakin’ bee flew towards my leg ass-first and stung me. I had a sting mark on my inner thigh for the entire summer. This year I went back and did the same Yakima ride, only I rode about 62 miles. As I started, I jokingly thought to myself “I better not get stung by a bee this time around.” No sooner did I think that when I felt a series of stinging, sharp pains under my boob. I panicked and smooshed/itched at the area until the sensation subsided. Eventually I forgot about it until later that day when I was stripping down to take a shower and discovered smashed bug carcasses stuck to my chest. Those little effers had flown down my shirt, got trapped in my sports bra, and decided to bite me over and over again until I crushed them against my bony bosom. What the hell?! So yeah, triathletes are like little bug magnets. Every triathlete I know has had some sort of bug encounter (most recently, Jason forgot his pair of sunglasses for a ride and had a bug bounce directly off his eyeball). I know that protein’s good for athletes, but I’m getting tired of sucking face with gnats. I mean, the least they could do is buy me a drink...

In part 2 of my three part bullshit series, I thought I’d talk about the bullshittiness that is biking. My trainer scheduled us for a 55 mile bike ride over the weekend, and since it was a sunny, lovely day on Saturday we decided to finally break free from the bike trainers and our stuffy, dark living room and allow our bicycles to touch actual pavement. Jason insisted that we do the Ironman Lake Stevens 70.3 course, to which I begrudgingly obliged. We rode the course twice last year, and I hated it both times. It’s a fairly technical course, with a lot of turns and a number of irritating hills. Also, it’s in Lake Stevens, which means that as you’re riding you get passed by huge pickup trucks that blare their horns at you for daring to venture out on the road in anything that’s not Hemi-equipped. Our track record with Lake Stevens isn’t great. The first time we rode it went okay, but we were with a giant group who actually knew where they were going. The second time we did the course, Jason’s friend broke his rear derailleur while miserably cranking up a hill and had to wait around in a combination general store/bait and tackle shop while Jason and I rode back to the car so we could pick him up. (Naturally, we got lost on the way back.) This time around, we packed up our bike stuff and headed to Jason’s parents’ house to meet up with his dad who also wanted to ride the course. We got to “downtown” Lake Stevens (meaning the street with the Subway), parked, used the bathroom, checked our maps and ventured off for our hardcore 55 mile bike ride. When we came to the first intersection we immediately made the wrong decision and ventured in the completely opposite direction of where we were supposed to head. We biked for about 4 miles before realizing that we had to be horribly lost because we ended up riding directly into a construction zone. Barriers were placed right up against the white line, forcing us into the lane as hoards of vehicles zoomed past us. I prayed that I wouldn’t get clipped by a car while trying not to pass out from the mixture of exhaust fumes and construction stink. After another mile or two we managed to wrangle free from the construction zone and stopped to check our maps again. We found the road that led back to where we parked, so we decided to take it all the way to the starting point so we could get our bearings and find the proper course. After riding for a bit, we stopped again to check the map to make sure we were on the right track. It was at this point when Jason’s dad realized he had broken a rear bike spoke. Great. Okay, Plan B: Ride back to the car, head to Jason’s parents’ house so his dad could swap out the tire with his other bike’s spare rim, then find a new goddamn course that’s easy to navigate and relatively free of toxic fumes. We rode onward: me in front, Jason a bit behind me and his dad bringing up the rear with his broken spoke. I was pedaling pretty steadily when I happened to run over something pretty hard with my front tire. I had about enough time to mentally utter “Shit” before my tire imploded. GAHHHH. I stopped and Jason rode up next to me, exclaiming that he had heard my tire pop when it happened (and he had been a ways behind me). I started...

Recently I wrote about how Jason ate pavement at the Vancouver half marathon last year and signed up for the 2009 race for redemption (aka Operation De-Bruise the Ego). His goal was to run the half in 1:40 to 1:45 and spare himself a trip to the medical tent this year, whereas my goal was to do between 1:50 and 1:55. How’d we do? Well, we headed up to Vancouver on Saturday, stuffed our faces at Cioppino’s, and got to bed at a reasonable time so we’d get a little shuteye before our 5:45 wake up time. When I got up I was sportin’ a lovely headache and did my usual morning-of-the-race grumbling. I sucked down some Advil and geared up for the run. We ducked out the door and jogged to the start of the race for an early morning warm up, then shoved our way as close to the starting point as possible. When the race officially began, Jason and I both spent the first two miles dodging people and trying to run at a decent pace. Much to Jason’s annoyance, he had to pass a ton of people who had no business being at the start of a half marathon (like people with walking sticks who had positioned themselves among the 6 minute mile runners). I, meanwhile, got freakishly overheated in the balmy 60 degree weather despite my attire of shorts and a sleeveless shirt. I attributed my Hot Head Syndrome to the visor I was wearing, so I stripped it off and ran while holding it for a bit before getting tired of carrying it and chucking it into a bin. With my head blissfully naked, I was able to concentrate on running. Or so I thought. Even though I did the customary pre-race Glide application and despite the fact that I had worn these shorts on plenty of runs in the past, for some reason during the race my shorts kept riding up on me and I had to do an awkward shimmy shake every few hundred feet to try and yank the fabric back down. I can only imagine what it was like to run behind me the entire race. I waged this battle for the entire 13.1 miles, cursing my thighs and these godforsaken shorts. The run itself went pretty well. I had the usual ups and downs and would suck down Gu and water whenever I felt an energy lull. At mile 10 I was running hard and had a Jason moment where my vision temporarily tunneled and I felt light-headed for a few seconds. I wondered if it was my turn to pass out, but thankfully the feeling subsided and I was able to resume running. Hooray for staying upright! I approached the finish line and saw Jason at the sidelines wrapped in a space blanket, so we went 2/2 on the “no passing out” goal. I finished the race in 1:52 and some change, which is a 4 minute PR from last year’s time and a 12 minute improvement from my first ever half marathon. Yeah, beeyotch! Jason also achieved his goal, having finished in 1:41 and sparing his veins from invasive IV needles. I celebrated my achievement with an ice bath, a Wendy’s bacon and cheese baked potato, a dim sum lunch and the coveted post-race nap. Later that evening we caught a movie and ate gigantic steaks at Gotham. (Post-race gorging is easily the best part of training and competing.) All in all, the race went well for both of us this year (aside from excruciating chafing). Huzzah for improved times, healthy bodies and great food. We’ve...