Roller coaster ride

This has been a crazy injury/recover!  It seems as though one day I’ve got one opinion and am headed in one direction, then just days later everything changes and I’m headed in another.

In my last post (and I just re-read it to be sure I remembered correctly) I felt certain that that the surgeon was going to tell me I needed surgery.  I went armed with lots of questions:  what and when would he do it, what was the recovery like, etc..  We talked briefly, he examined my ankle, and then told me that surgery wasn’t required.  He put me back into the removable cast/boot and told me to come back in a month.  I wasn’t at all prepared for that response and hadn’t thought about any questions.

I did push back, indicating that I had athletic plans for the future and needed a full recovery.  He told me I was getting the same answer that Mario Williams (a professional football player in case you didn’t know) would get.  Still in shock I only thought of one other question:  when could I run again.  Red flag:  he didn’t know!

He said he was going to speak to Dr. Sanders, whom I knew would have the presence of mind to ask the questions I didn’t.  The big ones being how can two pieces of the ligament that aren’t touching going to reach out and reconnect?  If that do manage that, how tight will the ligament be?

I’ve done some research this weekend on my injury, something I should have done before my last appointment.  There were two themes:  Avoid surgery if possible, and people who did months of rehab only to end up having surgery later anyway.

Today is my first day back at rehab.  I feel a bit sorry for Dr. Sanders.  He gets as one of his last patients of the day someone with a lot of questions, and a lot of frustration with the answers he got from the surgeon!  Hopefully he has some answers for me!

Medical update

I’m late with this post because there was always another update just around the corner.  It’s still the case, but I do want to log my thoughts.

Last Thursday I went back to the orthopedic doctor.  I immediately told him I was unhappy with the continued pain and lack of progress.  He took a look at my ankle and sent me for an x-ray of my foot to verify I hadn’t broken something there.  That came back negative.

He took me out of the removable cast, put me into an air-splint and sent me to rehab 3 times a week.  There were two key questions asked/answered:

1. Are you sure that doing rehab now won’t do any further damage:  No.
2. Is this amount of swelling and pain normal for this long after the injury:  No.  If the pain continues he will refer me to a pain management specialist.

I signed up for my first rehab session for Monday, two days ago.

After some pushing and prodding by my parents, who were concerned about my situation, I called Dr. Sanders (a chiropractor) who has worked on various parts before, but more importantly works with the Houston Texans. He looked at my ankle briefly (and a photo I’d taken weeks earlier) and said something wasn’t right.  He didn’t want to rehab me without knowing what the problem was and sent me in for an MRI.  That was last Friday.

I cancelled my rehab session with the orthopedic doctor for Monday, and instead went for the MRI.  I have two words for that:  loud and cold!

Yesterday I went back to Dr. Sanders for rehab and to find the results from the MRI.  I knew something was up when he walked in without his  usual cart of stuff (gels/lotions, etc.).  Long story short, it wasn’t good news.  While it did provide some level of validation that I wasn’t just whining, for me it was the worst case scenario.  Reading his notes now I see that I have a full thickness tear of the ATF and medial deltoid ligament, and a compress fracture of the talar dome.  I also see a sprain and strain of the calcaneofibular ligament.  I had to look all of those things up, but I agree; that’s where it hurts!

He isn’t a surgeon, but he doesn’t believe those full tears can heal without help, meaning surgery.  I go in for a surgery consult tomorrow morning.  This is an ankle specialist who works with the Texans and Houston Ballet.  I believe that he will know the best thing to do to speed my recovery.  In the meantime I’m back in the cast with no extra walking or biking and limited swimming.

I wasn’t letting Dr. Sanders off the hook that easily, I wanted to know what that meant.  What were the best and worst case scenarios.  He replied that my season is over.  “That’s what you really want to know isn’t it?”  He knows me too well.    He added that either I wouldn’t be able to come back, or if I did I would be one of those old/slow people, which I won’t do.

He didn’t leave me hanging though.  The best case scenario is 3 months in the removable cast and no surgery.  However, he doesn’t believe that will work and said he would want to speak to the surgeon if that is what he recommends.  The worst case is much worse and involves pins and plates and 9 months of down time.

Needless to say I was pretty upset yesterday.  Today is a new day and I’ve got to accentuate the positive.  If I hadn’t gotten the MRI I could easily have done some damage and would be down much longer.

Tomorrow is my first appointment with the surgeon.  I hope to leave his office armed with a new plan for recovery, and that whatever he wants to do, we get to it as soon as possible.  Time is ticking and I’ve got races to run!

The Long road to recovery

I know it’s been a long time.  I had such good intentions this year to keep up, then I got injured, moved twice, and then got really injured.

Four weeks ago Wednesday I fell off a ladder while installing a ceiling fan.  I couldn’t have been any more than 2-3 feet off the ground, but in my attempt to jump clear of the ladder I landed awkwardly on the mattress frame and really did a number on my ankle.

I won’t bore you with the details of how we got here, just where I am now.  I’m in a removable cast, with which I’m able to walk around fairly well – just not very far.  I’m also finally able to sit in a chair like a normal person for an extended amount of time.  I’m unable to walk normally without the cast (nor am I supposed to even try) and am still too swollen to fit into a shoe.  Training wise I’m limited to swimming, and then only with a pull buoy as kicking is still too painful.

I go back to the doctor later this week to find out if I can take the cast off and maybe start some rehab.

I might be able to do some biking on the trainer, but I’m very concerned about getting my cleat off my injured foot (no way am I going to twist it out!).

Hopefully I’ll be back in a few days with a medical update.

Team RWB Triathlon Camp–The bike

This was simultaneously my most and least favorite part of the camp.  I have to mention the lows, as without them the highs wouldn’t be nearly as high.

As I mentioned previously, Team RWB provided bikes for 8-10 of the veterans.  Of the early arrivers, only Adam and Yogi needed bikes.  Fortunately they were the first to be fit with their bikes, giving them some extra time to tool around the parking lot.

My ears perked up a bit during their fitting when I heard them discussing the process of getting in and out of their cleats.  I figured it would be an interesting couple of days with people getting the hang of that and a few wrecks were in store.  I think just about everyone who dons them has taken a spill or two.

Yogi was first to be fit, and when he was done he started doing laps around the parking lot.  That’s when I got really nervous as he didn’t have very good control of his bike.  It looked like he knew how to ride, but hadn’t done so in many, many years.  Even more concerning was his apparent lack of what was going on around him.  The parking lot borders a fairly busy street in Austin, and he was riding right by the entrance without even checking for cars.  This was to be his theme for the bike portion of camp.

On Friday they took their bikes to a big field to work on bike skills.  They paired up to work on things like riding touching shoulders, putting a hand on the others back, and actually bumping back wheels.  The final drill was one where they would try to bend down and pick up a water bottle on the ground.  I was surprised that many of them were successful at this drill, but everyone kept trying until it was over.

Satisfied that everyone had some basic handling skills, Saturday morning we headed out for a big group ride.  The volunteers spread themselves out among the group and I positioned myself towards the back.  Right away I spotted Yogi and decided to give him lots of room, as he was all over the road.  We were riding two across and either took an entire lane, or the shoulder was almost that wide, yet Yogi was taking up that much space.  I knew he was going to crash and I didn’t want to get caught up in it, so everyone behind him gave him several bike lengths.

Someone told Yogi that he should try to follow the white line at the edge of the road to try and straighten him out.  While this did help, I was concerned with him riding that close to traffic.  I could also see that he was in too high of a gear, pedaling too hard and the only way to work on that would be to ride beside him.  I pulled up beside him on the traffic side and had him ride near the edge of the road.  We spent most of the day in this position.

I tried several pieces of advice for gearing.  I think it finally clicked when I suggested he try to pedal as fast as the guy in front of him.

Much to Adam’s chagrin, everyone got a chuckle when he was the first to fail to unclip when coming to a stop.  Watching it unfold in front of me I expected a chain reaction.  Either people were spaced far enough apart or moved quickly out of the way because poor Adam was the only one who ended up on the ground.  It didn’t seem to faze him in the least because at the end of the ride he was still smiling.  A bit later Yogi tried the same trick, but the person beside him was solidly on the ground and was able to catch him so they both stayed upright.

After finishing one loop we regrouped into sets of two (with similar strength) to do a second lap.  Yogi and I paired up, and grabbed Chris as our guide as I hadn’t paid attention to the route.  I would have been fine if I’d gotten off  course as I had my phone and throwing in an extra 10 miles wasn’t a big deal.  I didn’t think Yogi would fare as well, hence our guide.

Chris and I took turns riding beside Yogi with the other riding behind.  I don’t spend that much time sitting  up on my bike and my wrists were beginning to get sore.

Adam and Santiago caught up with us and rode for a while as they weren’t sure where to go.  Adam was eager to go and took off, so Chris gave Santiago some quick directions and they were off.  They ended up missing the a turn, twice, and added an extra 30 minutes to the ride.  I felt badly for them, as 30 minutes extra when you haven’t been riding at all, is a long time, especially when you are lost!

At about the midway point we had to do a u-turn on the divided road.  We kept Yogi blocked in until it was save then all three of us crossed to the u-turn lane.  As we came around the corner Chris and I both stopped to watch for traffic.  I’m not sure how it happened, but I looked up and there was Yogi about halfway across the three lanes, with an 18 wheeler coming quickly towards him.  All the yelling and whistling failed to capture his attention and he just kept going.  Those were the most terrifying moments of my recent life.  Maybe it wasn’t that close but it sure scared me!  After we re-grouped, Chris and I kept Yogi very close.

If that was the worst part of the day, the best part was watching his face as we rode.  He was smiling, and happy, and kept thanking me for letting him come to the camp.  This was why I came to the camp:  to make a difference in someone’s life, and I was there to see it happen.

We made it safely back to the finish line.  While I had enjoyed Yogi having so much fun, I think a part of me was glad that we were through riding bikes at camp.

Coming soon – the swim.

Team RWB Triathlon camp Texas 2012

Anyone who’s been following me these past few years (has it really been that long?), knows that my favorite topics are triathlon and, well, me!  Today isn’t all that different.  I want to tell you about my recent experience with Team Red White and Blue.

This is my second season racing with them.  I’ve tried to represent as best as I could, and I’ve told people about the team and our mission whenever I’ve had the chance.  Honestly though, there was something missing.  I didn’t really feel like I had any skin in the game.

I got a chance to change all of that last week, when I signed up to volunteer at their triathlon camp for wounded veterans.  If, after reading this, you don’t feel differently (maybe a lump in your throat, or a call to help) then either I’m a lousy writer or you’re a heartless and selfish bastard.  Sorry if I offended you, but that’s how I feel!

I had no idea what to expect, so I signed up for everything I could.  My first step was to pickup a retired Vet (Jamie) at the airport.  We chatted for a while driving around looking for a place to eat and I discovered that he was not only more experienced than I, but significantly faster.  I thought to myself that this was the caliber of vets I was going to be working with, and they certainly wouldn’t be needing my help.

One thing I should add before I go too far is that Team RWB provided a complete beginner’s triathlon kit to every veteran that needed it, including bike, helmet, wetsuit, shoes and uniform.  All they really needed were running shoes and swim goggles.  Not a bad was to get into the sport!

It wasn’t long before we were at the meeting place, and other vets and volunteers started showing up.  I sat down to install water bottle cages, put cleats on their shoes, and quickly fell into the old military banter.  I was sitting around with two Army/Airborne guys and one Marine.  Guess who we ganged up on!  After that day I didn’t pick on him again until the last day when we were fast friends.

Some of the vets brought their own bikes, and some of them were VERY nice.  A couple of the other guys looked like they hadn’t ridden a bike since childhood and certainly had never used clip in shoes.  Watching them ride in the parking lot made me nervous for their safety and vowed to keep a special eye on them.  Note to self, it takes more than just an eye!

I have to tell you something that struck me deeply.  We’ve all seen the news about the wounded soldiers, the amputations, PTSD, etc..  That doesn’t prepare you for the impact of meeting with these guys face to face.  Suddenly the news reports take on a whole new meaning.

From what I can remember there were 13 wounded veterans there.  I spent more time with the guys I met early that day, so let me tell you a bit about them.  One thing I didn’t do was ask them about any injuries or how they got hurt.  I felt if they wanted to talk about it they would.  Some did, some didn’t.  But this is what I got:

• Yogi – I didn’t discover until I got home that this wasn’t his real name.  Hopefully he was ok with the nickname people gave him.  He is a younger guy, one wife and two children (I still chuckle when I think of him saying this), and was a member of the 82d Airborne.  He was injured, spent 1+ months in a coma and came out with a rod in his leg and some brain damage.  He was the nicest guy, so thankful and appreciative, yet constantly apologizing for the most trivial of things.
• Serge – a retired Marine and the guy I was picking on at first.  He was either a combat medic and/or a door gunner.  Either way he was struggling with thoughts of suicide (one of his friends was successful) and some doctor suggested physical activity might help.  One day, he was out on a long group ride of 70+ miles when he was pulled from the course by medical personnel.  Subsequently he went into convulsions, fell, and broke his back and damaged his shoulder.  This camp was his first time back on the bike!
• Adam – An Airborne soldier with the 173rd in Italy.  He was on patrol when his buddy tripped an IED, which blew off his legs and severely injured Adam.  It was hot outside, so I ripped off my shirt, and several others, including Adam, followed suit.  I saw a scar that made me think of what they must do to perform an autopsy.  I’ve since seen pictures of his scar and it is nothing like I remember, yet it still gives me pause.  He has a matching scar on the back of his neck and several near his eye, which I didn’t notice until he mentioned his lack of peripheral vision on that side.  Most of these guys suffer from insomnia, including Adam.  He casually mentioned one afternoon that he hadn’t really slept in over a year.  Despite all of this, he is eager to get back to his unit.
• Doc – a Navy Corpsman.  He’d brought his own bike so I didn’t pay much attention to him at first.  When I started to say something about him being a squid Adam shut me up by saying that a corpsman had saved his life and he loved them all.  Doc was a pretty solid triathlete already, and I didn’t think he needed any help from me.  I later read an article about how he is doing some 100K mountain bike ride on GW’s ranch next week.  In the story it said how he had worked on over 1200 wounded before being diagnosed with PTSD himself and sent home.
• Jamie – my airport pickup, a retired Army guy who spent most of his time in the 82d or in Iraq/Afghanistan.  He kept being passed over for promotion until it was time for him to get out.  They offered him an E-7 slot on the front line, which he passed  up.  He’s about 10 years younger than I and is shooting for a 5 hour half Ironman in Florida in a few weeks.
• Larry – I didn’t get to spend that much time with Larry and still haven’t figured him out.  He was very nice, yet quiet.  He had his own bike that had an interesting aero setup.  It turns out he doesn’t have an elbow in his left arm, which allows him to, among other things, swing his arm backwards and hit himself in the back of the shoulder.
• Dan – didn’t even make it on my radar until the next to last workout.  I watched him swim, and it was the most amazing thing ever!  He was barely working, yet was leading the pack.  Long story short, he is an active duty Navy Seal who spends about 35 hours a week training.  Had I known that up front I would have spent much more attention to his swimming!

So, that’s some of the gang.  Most of them are on medication of some sort – many for insomnia and/or headaches.  Two are stationed at Walter Reed.  Every one of them was as nice as could be, and none of them displayed the “why me” syndrome.

The camp itself was 3 1/2 days, way too long for me to cover in a single entry.  I’m going to take a few days so I can cover it all.  The last thing I will talk about today is the trip to the shoe store.  Two of the vets, Serge and Yogi, had forgotten running shoes.  Ever the volunteer I went with them to the shoe store and then got them to the welcome dinner.  It was the trip to the shoe store that really touched me and told me I’ve got to do more and get more people involved.

As we were walking to the store, Serge was complaining about his shoulder, and popping it in and out of socket.  It reminded me of that Mel Gibson movie, except that for Serge there was no screaming in pain and it was as easy as cracking my knuckles.  I wasn’t sure how this would hold up for a couple of hours on the bike!

When we sat down at the store, with a wonderful salesman, Yogi told him not to bring out a bunch of shoes.  “Only bring a couple” he said, “any more would be too hard to choose”.  It took me a while for this to register, but I think at times he has the mental capacity of a teen or pre-teen.  I don’t mean this in a mean spirited way, and Yogi if you read this I hope you don’t mind my honesty.  When he put on his first pair he stood up, jumped around, and struck several ninja type poses.  It reminded me of the story my parents tell of how I would run around the house in my new shoes.  He wanted those shoes, and the next pair, and the next.  The salesman was very diligent in making sure they were the right size (we started with the 9 Yogi said and ended with a 10.5), and putting him on the treadmill to watch his gait.  Because of the rod in his leg, and that leg being significantly shorter than the other, he has a funky running style.  I didn’t think he would be able to run 1/2 mile!

As we walked back to my car from the shoe store, they kept thanking me for my patience.  They were so excited about their new shoes, I made it a point to ask them about them after every run workout.

As I sit here, thinking about that first day and how I felt, I have only one life experience that can even closely relate – being a foster parent.  Suddenly I had inherited 13 kids, who through no fault of their own had suffered something no person would ever want to experience, yet all they wanted was to look forward.  These guys are my hero’s, and I think about them every day!

 

Watch for more to come soon:  The Bike!

Galveston–Redemption of sorts

I’ve been meaning to write this since Monday morning, but with packing for the move and trying to recover from Sunday’s race, well I just kept putting it off.  The delay was probably good in that I’m not quite as emotional as I was earlier in the week.

When I scheduled this race I told coach I didn’t want to put any pressure on myself this year with the longer races, I just wanted to enjoy myself.  Then reality set in, and as my training continued to improve I set some lofty expectations.  I’ve had the time of 5:45 stuck on my refrigerator for weeks if not months.  Despite the distractions from home, I thought I could make that time, and had a shot at my coaches prediction which was in the 5:30’s.

Fortunately with all the distractions, I didn’t get as worked up about the race as in the past, not until race morning.  At that point I lost my water bottle in a porta-potty 2 hours before the race, and forgot to grab my pre-race gel.  I entered the water thirsty and one gel behind – not real smart in hindsight.

The swim

My plan, that I formulated upon entering the water, was to start near the back of the pack to avoid the mass of bodies, and then take it easy on the swim.  While I had a time in mind, there is no way to monitor that in the water, so I figured I would take it easy and conserve energy for the rest of the day.

For whatever reason, the first 300 meters were particularly rough.  I don’t know if it was because I was near the back, or there were more people in this wave, but I couldn’t get away from people no matter what I did.  I was punched in the side of the head and had to stop and reseat my goggles.  I bit later I was kicked in the head so hard I actually saw stars.  I always thought that was something only in cartoons, but believe me it really happens!

Regardless, I did my best to stay out of everyone’s way, and just kind of cruised along.  I counted buoys to give me something to do, and focused on my stroke.  Several times I told myself to slow the stroke rate and get a solid catch/pull.  It didn’t work as well as I wanted because of all the bodies, but I tried.  In the end I exited the water 2.5 minutes faster than I’d ever done before.  Maybe the masters swim class is working!

As I got out of the water I saw the strippers (the wetsuit kind!) and headed over.  We struggled a bit to get my feet out, but then I was up and running when I saw my cheering section.  I had to pop over and give them some high fives.  I remember my Mom’s hands were full of cowbells so I missed her.  I don’t think she missed out again!

The bike

I got in a quick transition and headed out with my bike.  I remember David, my brother in law, running alongside me in transition yelling “you’re two minutes ahead of schedule!”  I don’t remember telling anyone what my schedule was, but it was a nice confirmation of what I thought – so far so good!

As I expected there was a headwind on the way out.  It didn’t matter, I just started going and watching the miles count down to the turn around, all the while keeping my foot on the gas.  My back was getting tight and I wanted to stretch, but I figured it would be better to wait on that until I had the tail wind.  For the record, my bike computer said the turnaround was .8 miles too far out.  That wouldn’t matter since everyone was doing the same distance, except I was racing the clock and that meant extra time

I expected to really pick up the speed on the way back with the wind at my back, and while I was faster it wasn’t nearly as much as I thought it would be.  I was starting to tire, my back and neck hurt, I was getting saddle sores and I needed to pee.  While all of this conspired to slow me down, and I was generating much less power, I managed a negative split.  By my calculations I was about 5 minutes ahead of schedule!  I didn’t get an update from David, but that’s what I thought.

The run

Another quick transition and I headed out for the last leg.  I took the long way out of transition so I could say hey to my family.  I was feeling pretty good at this point.  I kept a pretty close eye on my pace as I know I tend to come off the bike too fast.

The course was three loops with a lot of turns.  I didn’t pay enough attention to my pace as the first loop was much faster than I wanted or planned.  Fortunately I didn’t realize this until reviewing my splits the next day.  I passed my family feeling pretty good and was surprised that somehow I’d missed the loop through the airport and expected to start the next loop right around the corner.  Then we veered off to the right and headed out onto the tarmac.  That was absolutely the worst part of the course.  The heat coming off the tarmac was brutal, there was no shade, no spectators to cheer us on, nothing but sun and lots of wind.

By the second lap I was walking through the aid stations so I could dump water over my head, ice down my shorts and grab a swallow of water.  I was carrying water with electrolytes, but somehow that wasn’t what I wanted.  By the time I started the final lap I was really hurting.  Aaron from Team RWB walked with me a bit to see if I needed anything.  A lot of things went through my head but we agreed that all I really needed was for the race to be over.

The walks at the aid station grew longer.  I tried some coke figuring it couldn’t make things any worse and it didn’t, though I’m not sure it got any better.  I took a gel, which almost came right back up.  I pulled over to get sick when some spectator told me to keep going, one step at a time.  Ok, I thought, I’ll get sick somewhere else.  That didn’t happen, but I also didn’t take in any more gels.

When I saw my family near the end of the last loop my tank was empty.  I stopped and talked.  Someone poured water over my head and I just stood there with my hands on my knees.  A check of the total elapsed time compared to the remaining distance told me I couldn’t reach my goal unless I ran 8 minute miles, which I knew was impossible.  In hindsight I think my math was off, and if I could have just sucked it up and run from there on out, at any pace, I might have made it.  I didn’t though.

The last trip through the tarmac was brutal.  It was really hot by now.  The few volunteers were also tired and sitting down eating/drinking.  I talked to a couple of people who felt like I did.  I offered them encouragement as they walked and tried to no avail to get them to speed  up and walk with me.  One of them caught up to me, running, tapped me on the back and said “let’s go”.  I fired up the engines and ran with him, then he fell off the pace.  I could tell where the finish was and just kept running, and finally crossed the finish line.  I was pretty out of it.  I had no idea of my time, let alone what the people were doing as they tried to hand me water, a medal and remove my timing chip.  The people who fussed at Lance for ignoring his daughter have no  idea how muddled your mind can get out there.

I remember

There are things that I remember, but aren’t really sure where/when they happened.  Like the swimmer who swam over top of me, or the cyclist who refused to drop back when I passed him.  More importantly I remember lots of support on the run.  Once I spotted my family I kind of knew where to expect them, but several of them appeared out on the course at different locations.  Natasha was there, cheering me on and encouraging me to run, as were several of my RWB team mates.

In the end I finished with 5:47 and change.  Two and a half minutes slower than I wanted, and slower than the qualification time for Nationals.  I was devastated, and sat down to allow myself a few tears and a brief pity party.  While I’m still disappointed I am now able to look back and see where I need work, congratulate myself on a 21 minute improvement on my previous best time.

The best news is that my run was a total disaster.  If I can put in a run like I should be able to, I will knock another large chunk of time off my PR.  I need to update the time posted on the refrigerator!

What to say…

I missed a blog entry 10 days ago, where I planned to write about my recent experiences swimming.  Last week I would have written about struggling with a couple of workouts and what I learned from it.  This week I wanted to write about my breakthrough brick.  So, what do I do, what should I blog about?  Maybe a bit of all three.

As I said, swimming is my least favorite workout.  If I miss a workout, odds are it is a swim.  And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been swimming and thought to myself that I could drop the swim and just do duathlons and be much happier.  Two weeks ago was no exception.  But I got in the water and started my workout when something amazing happened.  I found the zone!  My body seemed to find the right position, my form was solid and I was flying with less effort.  It only lasted for 100 meters, but it was a glorious feeling.  Having found that, and wanting it again is enough to keep me coming back to the pool.  Who knows when it will happen again since it took 2+ years this time, but I suspect I am getting closer to finding that sweet spot with regularity.  And then, watch out USAT, I’ll be coming on strong!

Something happened last weekend, perhaps the change in the weather, I’m not sure.  All I know is that Friday evening I was exhausted from my swim, more so than usual.  Saturday, after my bike ride, I had a hard time with the run.  It was so hot and I knew I hadn’t had enough to drink on the bike.  Sunday’s run wasn’t pretty.  Scheduled for an 11 miler, I started noticing pain in my hamstring around mile 4.  I was going to quit but the pain went away before I finished the lap.  I figured I would take one lap at a time.  I was  upset that this was happening now, and not going to risk doing any damage with my race right around the corner.  Shortly into the next lap the pain resurfaced.  I turned around and headed for home.  Then I started getting a similar pain in my other leg, and then my lower back.  I realized it wasn’t my old injury coming back, but probably cramping from dehydration.  I hadn’t run that far yet was soaked with sweat and just hadn’t drunk that much to compensate, and probably was still behind from the day before.  I backed off the pace, tried to drink extra fluids, and headed home – three miles short of the day’s goal.  It was a great learning opportunity though, reminding me that I need to drink more as the temperature heats up.

Before my workouts this weekend I got an email from coach with an outline of what she thinks I can do at my next race.  Needless to say her goal is MUCH faster than mine.  I’d be tempted to dismiss it, except she was spot on for my last race.  To top it off I read her blog about when her coach believed in her more than she believed in herself.  I decided that Saturday I would really push myself to see what I was capable of doing.  NOTE:  I really need to start doing this more on my training rides every weekend.

Anyway, I took off at a fairly decent clip.  I tried not to think about how fast I was going or how much power I was generating, just go.  I tried to watch for wind signs so I’d know whether to expect a head/tail wind on the final leg, but it looked dead still.  The ride was fairly uneventful until about the last 8 miles, where I passed a rider going  up hill.  A bit later I looked back and he had managed to grab on to my rear wheel and was drafting off me.  He asked and I said I didn’t care, but made up my mind to drop him.  At that point I really started pushing.  I don’t think my pace ever dropped below 22 mph, even uphill, and my power hit the upper 200’s several times.  No matter what I did, he hung on.  I kept telling myself that this was a race and I needed to go.  Funny thing though, my legs were burning and I was breathing hard, but I never got too tired or worn out.  Next thing I knew it was time to get off my bike for a short run.  Normally I ease off a bit towards the end of the bike so I have some legs to run with, but with my chaser I never got the chance.  So I started running, and my legs felt no different than they do after any other ride.  It was a short run of a couple of miles, and while I couldn’t have run 10 miles that quickly, it was a quick pace given the workout I’d just completed.

What a mental boost that workout was.  Not only for the race coming up, but for future workouts where I now know I can push harder on the bike leg (which will only make me faster)!

I don’t know what will happen Sunday.  I’ve had a lot of good workouts and feel very comfortable with my training level.  I’ve got a time posted on the refrigerator door that I should easily beat.  The question is, can I hit coach’s goal time.  It’s party time if I beat either time, but if I am able to do as well as coach thinks, the part will be off the hook – probably two beers instead of one!

Thanks for reading!