This past weekend Jas and I trekked to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho to train on the Ironman Coeur d’Alene course with some teammates before the big race next month. Jason will be racing but my big dance isn’t until Canada at the end of August, but I thought I’d be an overachiever and go to the training camp anyway, figuring it would help me for my race. The weekend didn’t go quite as planned and I ended up getting slammed with the three c’s: a cold, crotch issues, and a new batch of chest chafing. Sicky-Ki-Yay, Motherf*cker A crappy cold has been working its way through my team the past couple weeks, so it was only a matter of time before the germs made their way to me. At least three of the teammates who I had swum with and met for dinner last week ended up getting sick, and Coach Teresa was battling the yuck all week, too. So naturally, as Jas and I were driving across Washington on Thursday heading to glorious Idaho, I started to feel rundown and kind of blergh. By the time we checked into the hotel and met Mark and Teresa for dinner, my head was aching and I was battling Lumpy Throat Syndrome. The next morning, I sucked it up, chowed down on off-brand daytime cold medicine, and did the group swim at a nearby pool (swimming in the lake was a no-go considering temps were hovering at a nope-inducing 46 degrees), then suited up for a long bike ride. The first part of the Ironman bike course is kind of nice, with some slight, steady climbs along the lake before turning around and heading back into town. After about an hour, however, the course dumps you onto the highway where you get to bike out 20 miles before returning to town and doing the entire loop all over again. You spend 80 of the 112 miles on the highway, which is pretty sucky because it’s a boring, long, lonely, and mentally challenging stretch. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about riding alongside a rumble strip while semis careened past me as I dodged roadkill and random bits of debris, but if I had signed up for CdA I could probably suck it up on race day, although training on the highway was somewhat grueling. After I completed loop 1, I was starting to feel kind of crummy. The day was sunny and warm, but I was feeling too warm and started wondering if I was battling a low-grade fever–I’m used to sweating and sniffling during bike workouts, but this flop sweat, snot factory, and throbbing headache felt more cold-induced. I ran into Teresa, who went into Mom Mode when I told her I wasn’t feeling well and made me ride back to the hotel and rest. I felt kind of chumpy for only busting out 80 miles instead of riding the entire 112 and for skipping the brick run, but after I showered and spent the next two hours sneezing and blowing my nose, I figured I made the right decision. My evening was spent curled up in a chair in self-mandated quarantine watching re-runs of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and wheezing while my teammates went out to dinner. The next morning I skipped the second group ride but thought I’d give the team run a try, figuring that if I had to choose one of the workouts to do, I’d opt for the run instead of the bike because I could bail more easily if I still felt crummy. I still felt a bit feverish leading up to the run but felt surprisingly...

For much of my triathlon “career” (stop laughing) I’ve used BASE Performance products. Founded a few years ago by Chris Lieto, the company offers products specifically designed for optimum athlete performance and recovery. My favorite product by far is the recovery activator, which are supplements you can take after grueling workouts to aid your body a bit with recovery. I’ve also used their salt (I actually cook with it), their amino mix, and their multivitamins but the recovery pills are what steer me into junkie mode. Since I’ve been a fan of the company shortly after it was founded, I thought I’d ping someone at BASE for a little interview. Eventually Paul Lieto, Chris’s brother who works for Base, got tired of my incessant pestering and agreed to answer some of the dumb questions I threw his way. Enjoy! Mediocre Athlete: Can you share the super awesome comic book-style origin story behind BASE Nutrition? Who founded it and what was their purpose behind forming the company–did they see a void in the athlete nutrition industry that wanted to fill or a problem that needed solving? Paul Lieto: BASE Performance was founded by professional triathlete Chris Lieto. He did see a void in his nutrition plan. There were several companies providing good nutritional products (like CytoSport, PowerBar, Clif, etc). But he was looking for some additional supplementation to improve his recovery specifically. Chris worked with his physicians to find and formulate the products we offer. He first utilized the products when racing the Tour of Utah, a cycling stage race. He immediately noticed the improvements in his recovery as he felt stronger from stage to stage rather than slowly breaking down over the tour. He debated for some time whether to bring the products to the public, giving his competitors a chance to utilize them, but decided it was for the greater good to help other professionals and age groupers achieve their fitness and endurance goals. MA: What makes BASE Nutrition’s products great for athletes? Paul: In a nutshell, BASE Performance develops all-natural supplements that help athletes train harder, recovery quicker, and therefore race faster. Endurance training is stressful on the body (and mind). Our products primarily focus on recovery and building a base foundation of health. Our Amino helps minimize muscle breakdown during workouts while helping build lean muscle post. The Recovery Activator helps clear toxins and facilitate glycogen absorption after a workout. Our Vitamins have higher dosages of the essentials to help defend against the excess free radical production associated with strenuous aerobic exercise. And our Electrolyte Salts are not just sodium chloride tablets; they actually have all 84 essential minerals needed for proper energy balance, including calcium, magnesium, and potassium. It’s in a fine grain form so we recommend athletes not only use in their sports drink mix, but also replace their normal table salt with BASE salt. To become a stronger, faster athlete you need to put in the hard, focused workouts. We develop the supplements that help you attack your tough workouts and recovery quicker so you can do it again the following day. It’s the building of continual focused workouts that will make athletes faster and why we see so many PR’s from our customers. MA: How many employees does BASE have? Paul: Just Chris and I right now as partners in BASE Performance. We work with other small businesses to help fulfill orders and manage some of the stuff I’m not good at, like balancing the books. MA: What is your role within the company (other than putting up with pestering questions from mediocre athletes like myself)? Paul: Currently my role is day to...

Look, I get that it was unseasonably warm on Monday and that it made for hotter than usual Boston Marathon race conditions, but deciding not to race or deferring to next year because you didn’t like the temperature is just laughable. If you’re elite or athletic enough to be able to qualify for the Boston Marathon, you can deal with a hot race. There are thousands of runners who would have killed to race on Monday, regardless of the conditions, and you’re telling me that you’re too big a diva to run when it gets to the mid-80s? Gimme a break. A higher than usual percentage of racers (3,863) didn’t even bother showing up to pick up their numbers this year. Obviously a portion of the no-shows could be folks who had injuries (as was the case of a friend of mine who tore her hamstring and was unable to race) or had a situation pop up where they couldn’t race (a family emergency, work conflict, etc), but the rate was higher than in previous years. Of the 22,426 runners who did show up to pick up their numbers, 427 deferred, which is even worse than not bothering to show up in the first place. You travel all the way to Boston, pick up your number, and then decide that you’re going to chump out and run next year in the hopes that temperatures will be more to your satisfaction? Ridiculous. Yes, I know it was hot. I know it was uncomfortable. I know that overall times were slower than previous years and that more people were treated for heat-related ailments (cramping, exhaustion, overheating). But that’s the nature of racing. You sign up for a race not knowing what’s going to come your way. You can do the training and prepare for it as best you can, but there are certain factors you can’t control on race day that you just have to deal with. Do you think the 2011 Ironman Canada athletes wanted to race in upper-90 degree heat all day? Obviously not, but they showed up at the start line and powered their way through like champs, and they raced 140.6 miles in adverse conditions, not just 26.2. Do you think Ironman Louisville athletes want to spend an entire day pushing themselves through ungodly heat and humidity, or that Ironman Coeur d’Alene athletes want to swim 2.4 miles in a ball-shrinkingly frigid lake? Did I want to race Costa Rica in the searing sunshine and come home with absurd tan lines? Did I want to battle ridiculous crosswinds at Ironman Boise 70.3 in 2010? Did I want to run through a windy monsoon during the Seattle Half Marathon this past year? No. Hell no. But you know what? I gritted my teeth and persevered, just as the Ironman Canada, the Louisville, and the Coeur d’Alene athletes did and just as every athlete should. Boston was hard this year. Harder than usual, I’m sure. PRs were shot, everyone was uncomfortable, it was a miserable day. But if you sign up for a race and aren’t prepared to deal with the potential curveballs that go along with it, you shouldn’t race at all because clearly you’re not cut out for it. You’re kidding yourself if you expect all of your races to have perfect weather, perfect race conditions, and that you’ll post a PR. You’re delusional if you think you’ll never get a flat tire, experience gut rot, be forced to endure wind or rain or snow or heat, and that everything will be hunky dory for you. The challenges behind racing are more mental than physical. The people...

Yeah yeah, I know you all have organized a hunger strike until I got my Costa Rica race report up, but this thing called “work” and “real world” (as in real life, not the umpteenth season of MTV’s Real World…though I do confess to harboring a guilty pleasure for the Challenges) have taken precedence lately so I haven’t had much time to blog. Sorry! In any case, I’m here now and will share my race report with you, my loyal readers. (Especially Jim, who has reduced himself to watching the same episode of American Idol twice in one day because he’s so restless for content. Holy crap.) Arriving in Costa Rica So yeah, back to Costa Rica. We arrived the Tuesday before the race, smelling and looking as if we had taken three planes and a red-eye itinerary to get to Guanacaste. Because Jas and I pack like champs, we only had to check our bike boxes (thanks, Kirsten, for letting me borrow yours!) and managed to shove everything else into carry-on luggage (tank tops and shorts don’t take up that much space). Unfortunately, American Airlines deemed it necessary to charge us an “Are you fucking kidding” price of $150 per box each way. Destination races ain’t cheap, folks. Our rental house was in a little town called Potreros, which wasn’t very far from the host hotel and the race course but sat atop a ridiculous 10-minute climb that requires a Canyonero to safely traverse. If I had to do the race again, I wouldn’t stay atop Mount Doom because it was too much a pain in the ass to get up and down the rickety-ass road all the time, but it did make for a memorable stay (plus, the house came with a dog named Cookie, whom I fed dog treats every chance I had). Pre-Race Workouts Mark, Teresa, Jason and I decided to do a 30-minute run near our house to shake the travel stiffness out of our stinky, tired bodies. The run went something like this: All of us: *gasp* *wheeze* *heave* *shuffle* *sweat* Me: “Oh look, my heart rate is at 176 already.” The hills were no joke, the terrain was ankle-rollerrific (in fact, Teresa did roll one), and it was hot as shit outside with zero cloud cover. Such a lovely taste of what’s to come on race day! Later that week we took our bikes to the Westin Playa Conchal to ride the hardest part of the bike course. Transition area would be set up in one of the Westin’s parking lot, and athletes would have to mount their bikes, ride over a 100-yard stretch of gravel, then climb a few daunting hills over the course of about 2.5 miles to get out of the resort. From there, we’d turn onto the road and enjoy a relatively flat three loops before heading back into the resort and climbing more hills to get back to transition. When we suited up to ride, it was impossible to ignore the remarkable heat as well as the discouraging gusts of wind. Since we were in the middle of the region’s dry season, we expected warm temperatures but it was unseasonably warm (the race website advertised average temps being in the upper 70s, but it was mid-to upper-90s the entire time we were there). Also, the wind was unusual for that time of year, and we were all a bit nervous about having to battle nasty gusts on race day. I strapped on my brand-spankin’ new aero helmet (now I can look like a sperm on wheels!) and tackled the climbs as best as I could. The hill...

Tomorrow I’m doing the Rev 3 Costa Rica half Ironman. It’s my first race of the season (I am so not used to doing a triathlon in March), but it’s also my first tropical destination half Ironman since I did the Cancun 70.3 back in 2008. That race was my second ever half Ironman and technically my first “proper distance” half Ironman since I had done the Victoria half earlier in the year, which adds up to just under 70.3 miles. Before I race tomorrow, I thought I’d finally publish my race report of the now-defunct Cancun 70.3 (they moved it to Cozumel, which now has a half and full Ironman distance race) that I raced during my first season of trying out this crazy sport. My Cancun 70.3 Race Report (or as I like to call it, the “Eff Jason for talking me into doing this” Half Ironman) Arriving in Meh-hee-co Como se dicen en México, survimos (as they say in Mexico, we survived). Jason and I got in Friday early evening for the race on Sunday. Some of my teammates were surprised we were arriving in Mexico so soon before the race, but honestly, after having done it both ways (I got to Costa Rica on a Tuesday and the race here is on Sunday), I prefer the “get in a couple days before the race” mentality. I kind of feel like I’m wasting part of my vacation by sitting around not doing much when I fly in early. I’d rather stay longer after the race and enjoy my time laying out on the beach, slurping tropical boozy drinks, and exploring/doing activities than staying out of the sun, constantly hydrating, and keeping off my feet. I had made it roughly four feet from the airport before grumbling to Jason that we will never do another destination race again (three and a half years later, 2008 Rebecca is scowling at 2012 Rebecca for breaking her promise, as I have not one but two destination races on my schedule this season). Between the two of us we had a big suitcase for our clothes, another suitcase for our race clothes, two duffel bags full of fuel, helmets and accessories, and two giant bike cases containing our deconstructed bicycles. Lugging all of this crap required some serious muscles and patience. I was soaked with sweat from the combination of heat, humidity, and gear muling. When we got to the official race hotel, we took a hooker’s bath and attempted to put together our bikes (Jason was still rockin’ his dad’s old Klein, which took him and Mark an eon to take apart since it probably hadn’t been disassembled since 1985, and I was riding my old coworker’s Giant road bike). After 90 minutes and repeated grease markings on the rug and floor, we were successful. Hooray! (I later spent a half hour trying to scrub the room clean of incriminating bike grease and realized that I would never, ever get away with murdering someone. Considering how much grease and grime I left all over the room just from assembling a crappy road bike, I’d have hair, fingerprints, sweat droplets, and probably my wallet because I’m that stupid all over a crime scene.) The race hotel itself was kind of crappy. They overbooked so we didn’t get the room we requested. Instead of a king-sized bed we got two doubles. The hotel staff helpfully suggested that we push the beds together. Just like in the 1950s! There were also little ant-like bugs that enjoyed crawling around our bathroom sink. I made it a mission to squash all of the ones I...

This is an open letter to every judgmental waiter who gives me and Jason that look when we tell him or her what we want to order. (Yes, it’s happened on enough occasions that I feel an open letter is necessary. And yes, I realize I’m trying to lose weight for the 2012 season. Back up off me, beeyotch. I likes me some food.) Dear Judgmental Waiter Who Thinks I’m Ordering Too Much Food, First of all, I appreciate your concern for my well-being as well as your doubt that I can successfully cram such a large quantity of food down my gullet. I can see how you would underestimate my ability to pack in the calories, seeing as how I’m of average height and somewhat thin/athletic build and not some sort of morbidly obese hobgoblin who rolled in on a Rascal scooter and prodded you with a fork I brought from home while wearing an old food-stained bib I got from an Old Country Buffet six years ago. However, I need to educate you on a few things so that you will stop giving me that “Are you seriously ordering this much food” look: 1. My mom is Korean; therefore, I know how to eat. Koreans love to eat. The only thing they love more than food itself is watching their kids pig out; thus, my mother’s greatest joy is simultaneously stuffing bulgogi and rice in my mouth while scowling that I’ve gained too much weight (except for recently, where now she alternates asking me what I’m making for dinner and telling me not to lose too much weight or I’ll become “ann-o-reck-she-uh”). Therefore, despite my size and stature, I have an uncanny ability to eat a ridiculous amount of food. It’s how I grew up–Momma didn’t raise no dainty eater. Although my boyfriend is 6’4″ and 200 lbs, when he and I order dishes to share at a restaurant, we actually do split the food 50/50, which is highly disproportionate considering our weight and caloric intake differentials. To put it quite bluntly, I am a pig. A shameless, ravenous pig. If I don’t restrain myself, I could easily polish off enough food to put a Biggest Loser contestant to shame. 2. I worked out for four hours today. Not only am I a glutton, I’m also a (somewhat mediocre) endurance athlete; thus, chances are I’ve done 2-8 hours of grueling workouts earlier in the day and am freakin’ starving. I’ve burned thousands of calories and now my body wants some of them back. So thank you for the eye roll and the silent judgment that I’m probably bulimic. I’m not puking, I just want something other than Powerbar Perform and gels in my stomach, for crying out loud. 3. In case you forgot, I’m paying you for all this food. You’re not bringing this shit to me for free, for crying out loud. I understand the basic concept of a restaurant–I pay for the food you make and bring to me, whether or not I actually consume it (I will though, because my inner fat kid is crying for something that’s been cooked in butter). It’s not like I’m going to take one dainty little nibble, push the rest away, and hold my belly, exclaiming, “Ohhhhhh, I’m so full. I’m not paying for the rest of this!” If I don’t eat it all (which is rare), I’ll take the leftovers home. Either way, it shouldn’t matter to you since you’re getting money from me whether I eat it all, throw it on the ground, or build Close Encounters-esque towers with it. 4. I realize how much food...