Let the Off Season Begin

After Vegas 70.3 Worlds, I had two more races planned for the year. The olympic-distance MightyMan in Montauk, NY and the Rev3 Half Full 70-mile distance in Columbia, Maryland. Unfortunately neither of them happened for me.

Shortly after Vegas, I began feeling a slight pain in my left shin and knee. I started by working on it myself, thinking it was just muscle tightness, and easing up on my running for about a week but it only got worse. I went to see my Active Release Technique doctor about a week before Montauk and he sent me for an MRI to rule out a stress fracture. The test was on the Friday before the race and I wouldn't get the results back until after the weekend. I played with the idea of racing anyway, but not knowing if it was broken, I knew I had to let it go. Missing that race was a big disappointment but I still had hopes of making it to the start line in Maryland a week later.

On Sunday night I found out it's just shin splints. This news allowed me to fool myself for a week that I'd be fine to race the following weekend. I thought if I gave it another week of rest, I'd be fine by the following Sunday. I took a short, 2-mile jog to the doctor's office on Friday. We were going to apply some kinesio tape to help me run through the injury, but by the time I got there, I was almost in tears with pain. Game over.

My season began with an injury. After running the Boston Marathon in April, I discovered I had torn a muscle in my foot and was unable to run for about six weeks. I believe this affected my running all season, as I never quite got back up to the speed I had at the end of last year and going into the marathon. I finally felt like a runner at Timberman 70.3 in August, but I know now that doing Timberman only hurt me in Vegas, which should have been my real focus, it being a World Championship race and all.

What I need to remind myself of is that I also had some good races. Despite not running for about six weeks, I won my age group at Syracuse 70.3 at the end of June. I also won the Mighty North Fork sprint overall for the second year in a row (and a minute faster than the previous year). I won my age group by over 10 minutes (and set a new PR of 4:54) at Timberman. I had been trying to go sub-5:00 in a half ironman race for years and finally did.

I could dwell on the torn muscle, tick infestation, sun poisoning (see previous post) and shin splints or I could be proud of myself for the small victories in spite of all that. It's all a matter of perspective.

It's officially off season for me. The crisp Autumn air and falling leaves have me excited to do some leisurely rides on my road bike. No power meter, no agenda. I love running this time of year, but I also truly enjoy running in the winter and I think a few weeks' break will do my body good in many ways. Let's be honest...I can't worry too much about losing my run fitness if I feel like I never quite had it.

Vegas Ironman 70.3 Worlds Race Report

I always say you learn more from the bad races than you ever will from the good ones. That being the case, I think the race I had at Vegas 70.3 Worlds should earn me a degree. It was such an experience it’s brought me to begin writing race reports again; something I haven’t done in at least a year.

 Also, I feel the need to start documenting the stupid crap that seems to happen to me before nearly every race. To give you an idea, at my first NYC Marathon, the cab that was taking me to meet the ferry to Staten Island was rear-ended by a drunk who was still out celebrating Halloween. Before the Boston Marathon, I developed a nasty bike saddle sore that almost took me off the start line. That wasn’t so much the sore as it was the treatment. I decided to try tea tree oil and quickly learned that I’m seriously allergic to tea tree oil. So, it was only fitting that when I went hiking on Shelter Island two days before heading to Las Vegas, I come out of the nature preserve covered in hundreds of deer ticks. For anyone who doesn’t know, Shelter Island is known for Lyme’s Disease, a tick-borne illness that will screw you up big time if gone untreated. I started taking prophylactic antibiotics, which happen to cause hypersensitivity to the sun. I’m half Polish, half German. I don’t really need any more sun sensitivity than I already have but look out, sunny Las Vegas, here I come!

Despite all this, I felt confident the days leading up to the race, having just achieved my first sub-5:00 half ironman a few weeks ago at Timberman. Vegas is my “A” race, of course, so why wouldn’t I do even better there? Unfortunately, while my mind may say this, my body doesn’t necessarily have to agree.  Something that I did find a bit worrisome, however, was that I was getting a dull headache during every little training session I did in Vegas leading up to the race. These were not hard workouts and I believe I was completely hydrated. I made a mental note that odds are, I’d get a slight headache at some point during the race.

Race morning began with an easy walk down to transition and a quick bike check. I had been going back and forth with whether or not I should keep the bike shoes on the pedals, since it’s something I stopped doing, probably out of laziness, but one look at the crazy ass run up to the road and the answer was easy. I set them up knowing that even if I stumbled at the top of the hill when I went to put the shoes on, I’d still take less time (and risk less injury) if I ran up barefoot.

Before I knew it, it was go time. My swimming has improved quite well this season so I seeded myself up front. I realize as I write this that this is something I never would have done a year ago, especially with the level of athletes I was up against here, yet I did it without a second thought.

This was by far the roughest swim start I’ve ever been in. I even got my thumb sliced within the first few strokes, presumably on someone’s watch. It’s okay! I’m on antibiotics! The water was about as murky as the Hudson River, making it a little harder to see where everyone was around me, but I was pretty sure I was still up front as I approached the first buoy. I settled into race pace, found a set of strong feet to draft off of and stayed with her through the turnaround point. On the way back to shore, I thought about swimming around her and going off on my own but I resisted the temptation knowing I had a long, hot day ahead of me. Oh yeah, did I mention the water was in the 80s and the air temperature was around 100? In a non-wetsuit swim, I was very happy to come out of the water 11^th out of our group of 90.

Transitioning to the bike went just fine and off I went into Lake Mead National Park. I knew it was especially important that I not let myself be carried away by others in this very competitive field. I had to race my own race if I wanted any chance of having a good run. A few girls passed me right away. I let them go, kept my head down and did my best to stay focused. Singing songs helped push any other thoughts away and I found the new Gaslight Anthem song, “45,” kept me going most of the way. Funny, it even has “And the song just keeps repeating, drop the needle again” in the lyrics. And then there’s the very fitting chorus: “Hey hey, turn the record over. Hey hey, I'll see you on the flip side. There you go, turn the key and engine over. Let her go, let somebody else lay at her feet."

Somewhere around mile 20, I went to shift gears and dropped my chain. It got stuck in my derailleur and it took me probably two minutes to wiggle it loose and get it back on my chainring. It sucked but I didn't panic. Instead, I shrugged it off as just one of those things that can happen. You hope it doesn't happen in a race, but what can you do?

I knew how important it was to stay hydrated in the dry heat and took every opportunity to utilize the bottle exchanges, dumping half the bottle on my head, the other half down my throat, tossing the empty, grabbing a second bottle to put in the cage on my bike all in the span of about 30 seconds. I noticed the headache began somewhere around mile 40 but it wasn’t that bad and I was still enjoying myself out there.

I reminded myself to look around and appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. I’ve never been in a desert before and I found it breathtaking. The opportunity to race through the desert is something I never thought I would have and I was kind of pinching myself a bit. Maybe this is why I was surprised when I looked at my computer and saw that it was almost time to get my run on. I finished the bike in 14^th place feeling happy and strong, and excited to run.

My first mile was, I would say, “spirited.” I looked at my watch and saw a 7:05 minute mile. This is about my usual half ironman race pace, so it normally wouldn’t scare me into slowing down, but I knew I had to reel it in and conserve energy. The run course is tough. There’s no shade, it’s hot and it’s fairly hilly. I didn’t want to underestimate it and blow up. So, at precisely mile 2.5, I went ahead and blew up. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that bad at a race before. But you know how they say the only reason women have multiple children is because the body can’t remember pain? I think that’s similar to the only reason athletes continue to race. I’m sure one day (hopefully not soon) I’ll have another bad race and I’ll think “I’ve never felt this bad at a race before!”

I didn’t want to finish. It seemed like there was so far to go and I had been reduced to a walk. The slight headache became a thumping that reverberated through my skull with every step and I’m wondering, “why the hell do my hands feel like they’ve been dipped in hot wax?” My hands had gotten so badly sunburned during the bike that they now felt like they were on fire. I wasn’t thorough enough with the sunblock and the medication made it that much worse.

I figured if I walked the aid stations and maybe a few of the uphills, I could get enough time back by running the downhills, which would feel relatively easy. That became my new strategy. I wasn’t racing anymore. I didn’t care where anyone else was or who would catch me. I just wanted to finish. I just wanted to get my freakin’ tee shirt and go back to New York. Then I noticed a few pros walking as well. I saw Meredith Kessler walking and a few others I didn’t recognize. They could’ve easily quit and said they were saving themselves for an upcoming race but they respected their fellow competitors, and the race itself, enough to not do that. I had to finish.

And then, somewhere between miles 12 and 13, I noticed a few women in my age group gaining on me and I found my fifth gear. HA! I didn’t care how much it hurt. Being passed in the last mile sucks and after the day I had, I wasn’t about to lose another spot to anyone that close to the finish. It felt like forever and hurt beyond hurt but I pulled out a 6:03 minute mile. From where, I don’t know. Yeah, that’s pretty cool but if I had that in me, why couldn’t I have done that a little earlier with like half the intensity and spread it out a bit? That would have been much better.

I finished 12^th and I’m happy with that. Generally, the run is where I move up the most and, despite the hard time I had, I still moved up two spots from the bike. The hardest pill to swallow is that at 5:25, this was my slowest half ironman ever. I had a bad day. It happens to everyone at some point. It happened at Worlds for me but the bright spot is that my PR at Timberman has qualified me for next year and I will return with fierce determination to have the race I know I’m fully capable of having.

Sick Days

I tell my body to work harder, lift heavier, run faster. Sleep. Eat. Drag that freezing butt to the pool and get in. I tell it to get on the bike and ride for three hours or more without complaining. How dare it tell me no! How can I be sick? Ha! All too often, we don't think about our true well being until illness forces us to. Day two of sitting on the sofa, ordering spicy food so I get at least 20 minutes to breathe clearly...it's giving me plenty of time to think about it now.

My swim with a hero

I'm the kind of person who just puts herself out there all the time. Often, this leads to disappointment, heartbreak and frustration, and makes me kick myself for being so "open." But then something happens or I meet another really interesting, amazing person and I realize it's a quality I must embrace.

Case in point: about six months ago, I'm swimming, sharing a lane with a big but gentle guy wearing fins. He's creating a decent current and some "chop" and I joke that I'm enjoying it because it's good open water swim practice. He tells me I'm fast and challenges me to a race (him in fins, me not). I grin and accept -- anything to make my swim more exciting.

I happen to be on the side of the lane that has some crazy metal lifeguard chair that's attached in the water by a big metal pole. As I swim past the pole, I hit the back of my hand on it so hard that it instantly turns blue and starts bleeding. We finish the race (which was a close one, btw), he sees my hand and starts apologizing profusely. I think he was more upset about it than I was.

So I hadn't seen him since, but just this Monday, there he is. We recognize each other right away (and of course he still feels bad about my hand). Turns out, he is Marlon Suson, owner of the Ground Zero Museum downtown. Marlon was the official photographer at Ground Zero, the only photographer granted access during the recovery following the attack on 9/11. What Marlon did to document this sad part of American history is unbelievable. I'm visiting his museum this weekend and I recommend anyone who hasn't been there to go as well. Through his museum, Marlon continues to support all the heroes of September 11, 2001.

Do you carry star anise?

Has it really been this long since I've blogged? I wish I could say that with the season at a close, I took up and traveled somewhere exotic for the past few months. In reality, I think the most exotic place I've been since September is the ethnic spices isle of Whole Foods. Yeah, that pretty much sums up the past few months. Lots of cooking, eating, drinking, spending time with family. All the things I really don't get to do in the summer. But, before I settled into the easy life, I had two more big races after Toughman. A quick rundown:

October: MightyMan Montauk 1/2 IM. I went into this race thinking I could go sub-5:00 for the first time, since Toughman was pretty close and I had all those silly issues (even more than I felt comfortable blogging about at the time but let's just say not only did I forget and then lose 3/4 of my nutrition, but I also was dealing with "female" issues that by the run had become apparent to pretty much every other athlete and spectator. Use your imagination). Anyway, back to Montauk. By early morning, I saw how windy and cold it was. Even the lake seemed to have whitecaps! I knew sub-5:00 probably wouldn't happen and it didn't. I finished in 5:10, but good enough to be third female overall. I fought hard for the podium and can't thank my friends from Terrier Tri enough for helping me through the run. You guys are a class act.

November: NYC Marathon! This was my second marathon ever, 2009 being my first (also NYC). I can't believe the difference a year can make, both mentally and physically. On race morning, I felt so good. Not at all nervous like I was the previous year. It occurred to me as I began running over the Verrazano that in 2009, I was so petrified I didn't enjoy much of anything. This time it was different. I felt great, had confidence in myself, never hit a wall and actually pushed through the last 10k feeling like I could go even harder. I took 9 min. off my time, finishing in 3:14. I was 35th in my age group and 190th female overall, including pros! Even better, recovery was faster and easier than I remembered it being the previous year. I'm already registered to do it again this year.

After taking a bit of a Christmas holiday watching the snow fall and the firewood burn, I'm now three weeks into training mode, though not quite as much as I will be another month from now. I'm also dealing with some tightness in my lower left leg that's causing my achilles tendon to scream whenever I run. So, I'm back to my ART doc again to work that stuff out. Could be worse, could be July!

Toughman Half Ironman Race Report

A friend pointed out to me today that I always seem to have some kind of funny or weird story about every race I do. This is definitely true for the Toughman half ironman I did on Sunday.

Race day began as ordinarily as they come. Transition set up went smoothly, body marking…check, timing chip…check. I laid everything out the way I always do on my towel and made my way over to the water’s edge as I ate an Odwalla bar.

It was super low tide, so when the horn sounded, there was a whole lot of hopping, dolphin diving, more hopping, trying to swim…nope…more hopping. When I finally started to swim, I settled quickly into my pace and reminded myself that I need to race in the water and not once I get out, like I seem to always want to do. I’ve been doing a lot of sighting practice all summer since whenever I swim off the boat, I’m always watching out for other boats, rocks and whatnot. This proved to be valuable experience, as I was a lot better at staying on course and navigating the buoys. A couple times, I found the feet of a strong swimmer and drafted for a bit. It’s amazing how much energy this saves. Coming back to shore, again, it was swim, swim, hop, hop, dolphin dive, hop, hop. This is a lot of work to do before starting my ride, I thought.

As I emerged, I looked up to see my friend Kristin with a look of both shock and excitement on her face. She shouted that I was fourth out of the water and not far behind the leader. Sweet! I entered transition feeling really pumped. Just as I’m mounting the bike and congratulating myself on such a fast transition, I realize I’ve forgotten to grab my nutrition. All I have are the two water bottles on the bike, each with only 90 calories of carbs in it. Crap. I shook it off and figured I’d ration the two bottles and use the bottle exchange at mile 36 if I felt I needed to.

Throughout the bike course, I kept thinking, “they don’t call it ‘Toughman’ for nothing!” This is a challenging course. But wow, is it beautiful. At least there’s some reward for all the work the athletes put in. Not to mention the volunteers and cops at each intersection and along the course who were just amazing. Just as I finished my first bottle, I approached the bottle exchange. I slowed a bit, but decided I still had a whole other bottle and felt really good so I’d pass. Not more than a mile later, I hit a huge bump and there went the second bottle. Double crap. But instead of letting this get me down, I told myself, “Now you’re lighter. Move!” I know my pace picked up in the second half of the bike. I think it was partially because I just wanted to get back to T2 where I knew I’d have my Odwalla bars and gel flask waiting for me. That and there’s a nice elevation loss on the way back.

Back into transition, someone told me I was still in fourth. I was hoping to move up at least one spot on the bike, but given I was at such a huge caloric deficit, I was happy to have not been passed.

Finally getting some calories into my body felt great and though my legs were a bit wobbly, I was happy to be running. The run course is absolutely breathtaking. A large portion of it is through a park with gravel and dirt trails and for a while, I got to run through a beautiful park all by myself! Thankfully, the route was so well marked that I never had to worry about being off course and was able to just enjoy the moment. Like the bike course, the run is quite challenging. Because of all the hills, and changes between dirt and paved sections, my mile splits were all over the place, but I focused on pushing myself just enough and tried to not worry about the numbers so much.

At around mile 7, I reached a turnaround and saw a woman behind me moving in fast. I brought my pace up and tried so hard to hold her off but by mile 8, she passed and I knew I wasn’t going to catch her. In the end, over 70.3 miles, she was the only woman to pass me. I approached the finish and learned I was fifth female overall. Considering I did the entire race on about 300 calories, I’m happy with this and even happier to have taken 14 minutes off my previous ½ ironman PR; down to 5:05 from 5:19! Next up, Montauk MightyMan in three weeks, where I’m hoping to break 5 hrs. Anyone who knows me knows how much Montauk means to me and how much energy I draw just from being there. I’m really looking forward to that race!

Looking back...and ahead

This dry, cool weather has shown up at just at the right time. After taking a bit of a recovery week following Eagleman, I jumped back into training a little too quickly and ended up angering my calf right down to my foot last Wednesday while doing some speedwork. I forced myself to back off, which wasn't too difficult considering how hot and humid it got around here, and just as the oppressive weather broke, I felt ready to train. So, this past week, I've had some great workouts, including a 72-mile ride up to the orchard near Pomona, NY and back to Manhattan. On that ride, I think I climbed the cruelest hill I've ever encountered. It was so hard I felt it in my abs yesterday, but I followed through with my plan and had a successful 6x800 track workout followed by some strength training in the gym. Today, I'm looking forward to an early brick in Central Park and then it's back out to the boat, where I'll be getting in plenty of open-water swimming and trail running.

I'm also bringing my bike, which my family isn't too happy about. I never thought they were superstitious, but apparently, they are! They keep asking why I want to ride on July 4, exactly a year after my crash, on the same roads. My mom says she isn't taking a picture of me this time (the one here was taken the morning of my crash just after I ran the 10k to my parents' house and before I headed out on my ride). I guess it's just my way of exorcizing the demons that still plague me sometimes and rewriting the past.

Back in the saddle

Turns out my body was still a little sore from Eagleman, so I decided I needed some extra time off to recover. Nothing a few days on the boat can't cure! Between Friday and Sunday, the most I did was a 4-mile walk on the beach, a few sets of pullups using the metal bar across the back of the boat (yeah, that gets a few weird looks) and some pushups with my feet elevated on a tree stump I found on the beach (yes, weird looks there, too).

I also took some time to plan my workouts from this week through the Toughman 1/2 ironman on September 12. It feels good to wake up and know exactly what I have ahead of me for the day, but I still reserve the right to change it around to accommodate the weather or when my cycling partner can get out for a long ride. Yesterday was going to be my first brick since the race, but instead I had one of the best 56-mile bike rides over the GW Bridge I've had in a while. We rode my favorite hills (Ash, Bradley, Tweed, Mountainview) and I felt really strong on all the climbs.

Looking over my race results, I've come to the conclusion that I'm a climber. Consistently, when I race a hilly course, I do so much better, not only among the field of competitors, but also in setting PRs. I think a lot of it is mental. When I'm riding or running a flat course, I tend to settle into a slightly uncomfortable pace and stay there. By the time I realize I could have been pushing harder, the race is pretty much behind me! But where there are hills, I'm forced to power up them and to see how much more I have in me. Thinking about this makes me want to register for another flat race and push my mind to keep up with my body!

Eagleman 70.3 Race Photos

To race or not to race

I'm thinking about doing the Shelter Island 10k this weekend. I did it three years ago and remember how challenging the course was (yes, SI is very hilly) and how much I loved it. The race is at 5:30PM on Saturday. It's nice to not have to get up early for a race for a change, but with an evening race, I'll be spending the entire day watching everything I eat and drink (I remember doing that in 2007). There's also the fact that I still feel Eaglman in my legs. Registration is open until tomorrow night, so I guess I'll give it another day.

Eagleman 70.3

I registered for Eagleman way back in August 2009. I was still in a wrist brace at the time and wanted something big to focus on for 2010. Well, in that regard, I picked the right race. This was my first "Ironman-branded" event, so I was excited just to be doing it and competing against what I knew would be a very competitive field.

I felt relaxed when I arrived in Cambridge, MD on Friday evening. Ah, ignorance is bliss! Rob and I strolled to the end of the pier at the hotel and looked down into the Choptank River, where the swim was to be held. There were tons of rays slapping the water with their big, lazy wings and I commented that I wanted to get in and swim with them. The water looked very murky, as most rivers tend to be, and warm, though I don't know how I'd get that sense just by looking at it.

We spent Saturday taking care of race prep stuff...getting my number, buying last-minute supplies at the race expo and racking my bike. We also got to watch part of the U.S.-England football match in the hotel bar along with about 100 other anxious triathletes! I noticed a lot were enjoying a beer or two, but I knew how hot it was and wanted to be careful about staying hydrated. A post-race beer always tastes the best anyway, I told myself.

I didn't sleep very well Saturday night but when the alarm went off at 5, I was ready to go. Our hotel room had a fridge, but no microwave, so I had cold leftovers -- Rob's giant stack of pancakes from the previous morning (I love cold pancakes with tons of syrup), some yogurt and a banana. He went for coffee, and breakfast was served.

Wherever I race, if the fishing is good, that's where Rob will be headed. It's pretty funny when we start unpacking our gear. He's got his fly rod and grundens and I've got my bike. This day would be no different. He drove me to transition, kissed me goodbye, and off he went to meet his guide. He always tries to be there at the finish and I always hope he is.

6:30 AM and the air was already thick. I figured they'd be moving quickly to start the race -- get everyone on their way as the day promised to be a hot one, but just the opposite occurred. It started about 15 minutes late. Then I heard no wetsuits were allowed because the water temp. was reading around 80 degrees! I was still standing there with my wetsuit over my arm at the water's edge, looked around and realized nobody else had one. I was glad to have a few extra minutes to go back into the transition area and put it back.

Swimming with no wetsuit doesn't bother me. actually, I quite enjoy it and prefer no wetsuit to overheating during the swim. A lot of people seemed upset about the change, but rules are rules and you have to be prepared to follow them. Since I was already sweating just standing there, I was happy to not put it on.

My swim wave was #7 of 14, all women 30-39, and athenas. I positioned myself front and center and off we went. I'm a naturally good swimmer and I admit this makes me complacent, since it's always been easy for me. I know I can go out and enjoy myself and still come into T1 with a respectable time. And then I use that old rationalization that especially in a 1/2 IM, the swim doesn't matter much (even though this is not true when you're looking to finish among the top). What I should be doing is actually competing in the water. Not thinking about the damn rays and how I finally get to swim with them. But the water feels so good, the sky looks so pretty each time I turn my head to breathe, and that's just how I roll (stroke?).

I catch the back of the 6th and 5th groups of swimmers, which breaks my stride as these are obviously the weakest of the bunch who are fighting just to make it through. They're tired, swimming zig-zag style and getting in the way of anyone else around them. This is when I finally told myself to race, damn it! Unfortunately, I was more than 1/2 way through at this point, so it was a little late to be turning out a stellar swim time. I exited the water 26th in my age group. The clock time is 44 min., but I'm not so sure this is right (and there were others who also felt something was off, either the course distance or the timing). I think mid- to even late-30 min. range would be more accurate, but I wasn't wearing my watch, so I can't be sure.

I took a little more time in T1 than usual because after what happened at Harryman, I wanted to put my watch on. Did that, grabbed my Odwalla bar and gel flask and I was gone.

When they say this course is flat, they mean it. I don't think I shifted more than one gear up or down during the entire 56 miles. And there is absolutely no shade. Not only that, but the wind, as I learned on Sunday, can be relentless. I know now why a lot of people use this race as prep for Kona.

This was my first time racing on the Specialized Transition Pro, the bike which I rode only three times last year before she threw me and my season was over. I had gotten in enough training this Spring to feel comfortable on it again, but by around mile 30, my left groin all the way down to my knee was screaming in pain. This has never happened in training. I found myself compensating by frequently shifting my body around and riding in a much less efficient position. I thought about a pro female Swedish triathlete who during an interview for Kona said so simply, "I hurt, but then everyone hurts, too." or something like that. Yeah, this hurts. Suck it up. When I started out, I was averaging 19.9-20.0 mph. My pace dropped in the middle as the pain got worse, but when I had 16 miles to go, I pushed harder to bring it back up to 20.2 and finish the bike leg in 2:46, 25th among my age group. I know I need to figure out how to make this bike more comfortable before my next race.

When I got to T2, I noticed HORRIBLE chafing under my left arm. I suppose it happened during the swim and I only just noticed it now. I paused wondering if I should remove my tri top and run in just the bathing suit top I wore underneath it, but I didn't put sunblock everywhere and I knew the run course was all sun, so I decided against it.

By this time the heat index on the course was measuring 101 degrees. I started at a 7:15 m/m pace and, though I felt pretty good, I knew with this heat I'd have to reel it in, so I dropped it to about a 7:40. After three miles, it became very apparent there was no way I could maintain that either, and I started going into that dark place that has me asking why I would pay money in exchange for the privilege to do this to myself. I started getting chills and quickly recognized it as early signs of heat stroke. It was time to re-examine my goals for this race and come up with a new plan if I wanted to make it to the finish (at this point, finishing become my goal)!

I decided since this was an "out and back" run, I'd stop at every aid station on the way out to take in as much water, coke and Gatorade that I thought I would need to get me to the next aid station. I also poured lots of water over my head and dumped ice down my shirt, front and back. The volunteers were AMAZING and extremely well prepared to help in any way they could. If I felt better, I would then run through every aid station on the way back (still picking up water and ice as I passed), hoping the mental boost I'd get by knowing I was "coming home" would be the extra kick I needed. My pace dropped down to an 8:30 average by the 6-mile mark, but the plan worked well and I got it up to 8:21 by the time I finished. My run time was clocked at 1:49:28. Insanely slow for me, but surprisingly (or maybe not given the conditions), my run ranked 11th among my age group.

Running down the last three miles, I wanted to see Rob so badly and when I rounded the final corner and saw him right there near the finish, I just smiled so wide, gave him a "high five" and felt so relieved it was over. I finished in 5:25, 15th in my age group. My goal was to come in around the 5-hour mark, but I know I can't be too upset with this when I think about the conditions on the course and the major pain I suffered on the bike. Also, this was my first 1/2 IM in almost two years, as a good friend pointed out, and that one was on a cold, rainy day in Montauk.

I learned a lot and feel humbled by the experience. For about 3 hours after the race, I questioned if I'll ever do another 1/2 IM again, but by morning, I realized what I need to do is plan a little better, train a little smarter and give the distance the respect it clearly deserves. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to the Mighty North Fork sprint and NYC olympic races I have coming up in July. Oh, and I finally had that cold beer somewhere in Delaware during the ride back to NY, and it was still worth the wait.

Mashomack Preserve

I had an amazing long weekend on the water, with lots of trail running, open water swimming, grilling and relaxing in the sun. I also got to spend a lot of time with my family, including my adorable new nephew, Bobby.

On Sunday, I discovered Mashomack Preserve, a Nature Conservancy-managed plot of land that covers 1/3 of Shelter Island. It's got some amazing trails, perfect for running (though I'm pretty sure they're meant for hiking), that take you past salt ponds and woodlands, and offer breathtaking views of the ocean. Getting there by boat, I had to run about 2 miles along the beach before I found a section where I could duck into the trail, but once there, I was free to run a spectacular 10-mile loop. As hot as it was, I couldn't stop getting chills thinking about how lucky I was to be there in the midst of such beauty.

I also did a good bit of swimming in Coecles Harbor, which was perfect after a long run. I'm already looking forward to this weekend so I can go back and do it all again.

Then, it's off to Maryland for the Eagleman 70.3 triathlon! I can't believe it's almost here. When I decided I'm doing this race, I was still recovering from my broken wrist, so it's been the driving force in all my training since then. I feel really strong and ready, and although it's my first 1/2 ironman since October 2008, I just keep reminding myself how much I enjoyed that race and how well my body took to long-distance racing. I've learned a lot since then and I can't wait to put all my training and experience into action.

Way to win me back...

An e-mail I sent to the Harryman race organizers, Genesis Adventures, and the response I got:

Hi Jennifer,

Thank you for the feedback. The signage back into transition should have been in place so I apologize if it wasn't.

Brian


Jennifer Place wrote:

Hi,

I was a competitor at the Harryman Olympic race this weekend. I'm hoping the feedback I give you here will be taken into consideration for future events.

I chose Harryman as my first race back after an injury put me out of competition for half of last season. As such, this race meant a lot to me. Also, given that my last triathlon was in June 2009, I needed a good benchmark for my fitness level and Harryman was to be that marker.

Racing a bike course that has absolutely no mile markers sort of feels like a cruel joke and is very difficult. As athletes yourselves, you shouldn't need someone to point this out to you. What wasn't funny was that at the end of the 21 miles, I had no idea how far I had rode and, with no signs clearly pointing me back to transition, I quickly tried to get the attention of someone, anyone, standing at that intersection to tell me which way to go. Nobody seemed to be able to do that, so I kept going straight. At this moment, I was the lead female. Now, I was forced to descend and climb that long hill a second time and wait until I got back to the top where I could cut safely across the road and head to transition.

My spirits were completely deflated; to say I was angry is an understatement. I continued to race anyway and finished second, knowing that the winner finished only two minutes ahead of me. I'm still shaking my head over how easy it would have been to add a few signs along the way. I know I wasn't the only person who was confused out there, so I hope you take this as an opportunity to improve what could be a great race.

Sincerely, Jennifer Place

Second Place at First Tri of 2010

The start of the 2010 racing season seems like the right time to start blogging again, especially now that I've completed my first triathlon since last year's injury. Yesterday was the Harryman Olympic tri at Lake Welch, NY.

After some doubt about whether or not there would be a swim, the race went on as a triathlon. I was happy I could get the swim in because this is my tune-up race for Eagleman next month and I needed the open-water experience. My swim was pretty good and I finally felt what it's like to draft off a strong guy and stay on his feet. It's like surfing and I can't believe the amount of energy it saves!

The bike course was one 21-mile lap through the park. Simultaneously, there was a 1/2 ironman in progress, which was multiple laps on the same course. It started with a right turn and quick, long downhill. At the bottom, we "U" turned and climbed up the same long hill. There were lots of false flats and a pretty strong headwind, and a few other big descents and climbs along the way. I felt really strong and found myself in the lead pretty early on. It was pretty much me and a few guys and, at some points, just me!

This is great, but with nobody around to follow and NO mile markers or clearly identifiable officials pointing us in the right direction at the turnoff back to transition, I missed it and wound up descending that big hill and having to climb it a second time to get back on course. I lost at least 10 minutes because of this and was so angry, I told myself I'd remove my timing chip when I got back to transition and do the run as training with no pressure.

But I get back to T2 and can't believe what I see. There are hardly any bikes around! Is it possible I'm still doing this? My spirits are lifted as I refocus and realize it's not over yet. I go back into "race mode" and am the first woman out of T2, though I didn't realize it at the time.

At around mile 2, I was passed by super fast runner, Lauren Cullen. She encouraged me to keep going, but I couldn't quite stay with her. At this point I knew I was going for second place, which is still better than I could possibly imagine while I was climbing that hill again. I finished in 2:10:13; about 2:00 behind Lauren and 3:00 before the third female finisher.

Though it's frustrating to know how much time I lost because of poor course markings, it's encouraging that I still managed to stay in the game and hold on for second place. Maybe this will be what fuels my fire even more when I go down to Maryland for Eagleman 70.3 in three weeks! I'm so excited to be racing again.

Marathon Day

Marathon morning, at a traffic light on the West Side Highway, the cabbie and I are chatting when suddenly, "BAM!" a Mercedes SUV slams into the back of us. Next thing I know, the cabbie and a guy in a halloween costume are standing in the middle of the highway arguing. The cabbie comes back and tells me this dude is clearly drunk; he's calling the cops. By now, I know I'm not seriously hurt. With the day I have ahead of me, I'll probably feel like I was in a car accident by Monday anyway and I really want to get going. Just as I'm starting to worry I won't meet my friends in time and I'll miss my ferry, the drunk weaves around us and takes off.

We continue our way downtown and finally reach the ferry terminal. Inside, large groups of post-halloween revelers are scattered among large groups of marathoners. I feel like I'm in a Stanley Kubrick film. Like somehow, to someone, this all makes sense but damned if I understand it. Luckily, my friends are right there and the three of us make our way across the river.

My friend, Kristin Thor Budden, a triathlete I met at the Mighty Montauk in June, and I were put in the same start corral and had decided we'd attempt to run together. Our half-marathon PRs are within 30 seconds of one another and we both have a 3:20-3:25 goal for the marathon, which is her first as well as mine.

We both were worried we'd start off too fast, so we were careful at the beginning. I called out our average per-mile pace at each mile marker and she looked at our overall time and the ground we'd covered so far and told me how close to our goal pace we were. It was awesome teamwork. It was also nice to have someone there to chat with now and then to take my mind off the running. I made a conscious effort to take in the crowds as much as I could, too.

Brooklyn was amazing. Not surprisingly, there was a clear fondness for the runners from Italia. I particularly appreciated the Polish part of town. Passing by the Polish markets, I thought of my Babcia (grandma) and Dziadek (grandpa). They would be so proud of me right now. We reach the half-marathon marker in 1:40 and we're really excited by how well we're pacing ourselves!

Of Queens, I remember the 59th street bridge. How quiet and dark it was. Everyone says it's one of the hardest parts of the race for this reason, but I enjoyed the silence. Maybe because all of my training had been done alone and without headphones, it didn't bother me at all.

The bridge spills the runners out onto First Ave. in Manhattan, where the crowd is thick and the cheering intense. I must have been getting tired by now because as we passed the cross street that would lead me back to my apartment, I considered, for a second, how easy it would be to turn and head home. I didn't.

All the way up into the Bronx we go before crossing another bridge to come back down into Manhattan for the last 10k. I never realized before that Fifth ave., heading south, is practically all uphill! I was having a pretty hard time by this point. Random muscles in my legs were threatening to just seize up and drop me. I found myself consciously sending brain signals to them, telling them to knock it off and keep working like I taught them to. Kristin looked so good. She was really keeping me going at this point. Then, she said exactly what I needed to hear: "this sucks!" If she's hurting and still doing this, at the pace we've been keeping this far, I can too. "What will hurt more," I ask myself, "working this hard for another few miles or slowing down and accepting defeat?" This is not an option.

We finally get to Central Park. My park. If I added up all the hours I've spent here, the distance I've trained on these roads, it would be months of time and hundreds of miles. We surge through to the 800 meter mark, then 400 meters. I see the finish and let out a gigantic scream as I cross it.

We finished in 3:23:41. I'm really happy with this time, but more than that, happy that we were able to run a smart, strong first marathon. We held our pace throughout the entire 26.2 miles. Found it in us to dig deeper and push ourselves harder when it started to hurt and our bodies wanted to quit. We worked together and, while we were at it, had a little fun, too!

Pre-Marathon Photos

Today was a perfect day to go for a walk in the park and get myself pumped for Sunday. I was accompanied by my buddy Claire, who is also doing the race (her first marathon, too). We can't wait to toe the line and give it our best!

Final Countdown!

I never had the desire to run a marathon before, but 16 weeks ago, fresh out of surgery and wondering what the hell I was going to do, it became the obvious answer. It seems like just yesterday I was sneaking off to the treadmill, keeping my bandaged arm elevated while I ran to minimize the throbbing pain. I could get through a mile or two before I had to stop.

Ten days post-op, the healing was going well and I went into a removable brace instead of a cast. With that, I started running again in Central Park. Sure, I got some weird looks, but I was just happy to be out there. My days throughout July, August and September consisted mostly of training for the marathon and visiting the hand therapist. Not very exciting!

But here I am, less than a week to go, and I feel ready and excited for the day to finally arrive. My bib number is 9647 and I depart Staten Island in the first wave of runners at 9:40 am. My goal has been to run at a pace that will get me to the finish by around 1:00 pm. Athlete tracking, if you wish to do so, is available here: http://www.ingnycmarathon.org/athlete_alert.htm.

I can't wait!

A Successful Staten Island Recon Mission

Two weeks after the Cow Harbor 10k, I did the Staten Island 1/2 marathon. The race itself wasn't as important to me as taking a test trip downtown, to the ferry, across the river and to where the NYC Marathon will begin just weeks later. It was a reconnaissance mission of sorts. Of course, I wanted to get a good last-minute gauge of my fitness level as well.

Running through the closed Staten Island streets, not everyone was giving us a warm welcome. At the first turn, a woman who looked to be about 40 but was probably only 28 stood outside her car shouting, "you gotta be f-ing kidding me. You f-ing runners!" Awesome.

I started out at what I thought was a pace I wouldn't be able to hold for 13.1 miles, but as the miles ticked by, I felt good! My knee has been an issue for weeks, and I still felt it a little, but it wasn't terrible and the more I ran, the less it hurt. I think I did a really great job pacing myself, listening to my body and having fun while I was at it. I made sure I thanked the volunteers and even chatted a bit with a few fellow runners.

With three miles to go, I spotted a woman ahead and knew I could overtake her. I made my move as we cut around the inside of a turn and with that, she spit at me! Well, in my general direction making sure I heard her. Okay, maybe I cut her off. Whatever. She got her revenge. She ended up passing me, giving me a bit of a run for my money while she was at it, and went on to finish about 30 seconds before me. I thanked her after the race. I learned something from that experience. Well, a couple of things!

I finished 25th woman overall and 3rd in my division. I didn't stick around to find this out because I really just wanted to get back home, so I had to go to the New York Roadrunner headquarters to pick up my award later in the week. I should have looked at the award, but instead I just stuck it in my bag and walked home. I get home, take it out of my bag. Oh, that's nice. Wait. "Men - 35-39 - 3rd Place." Oh shit.

Cow Harbor 10k

My friend Jeannette and I did the Cow Harbor 10k yesterday in Northport, LI. This is one of the most difficult and competitive courses in the area and a race I've done every year since 2006. I decided to treat it as a training run this time because I'm focusing on the marathon and I knew with all the longer runs I've been doing, I probably wouldn't be as fast as I was last year when I finished in 41:45. Also, the knee is still an issue and I'm getting over a cold that just won't give up.

The first mile includes a very steep climb, so I told myself to just start easy and find my pace. Training run, remember? Sounds like a good plan but in a race, it's so easy to get carried away. My first mile was a 6:37. What happened to training run? Eh, you know what? The weather's perfect, I haven't raced since June and I'm feeling pretty good. Maybe I can do this, I thought. But my mind kept going back and forth with every mile. I went from wanting to give it all I have to remembering that I'm dealing with a knee problem, a cold, and that I have the marathon to think about, which is exactly 5 weeks from today. I also found myself being more cautious than usual on the downhills because I didn't trust my knee as much as I normally do, but I also felt stronger on the climbs than I thought I would.

Then I started passing other women and wondering if I could place top three in my age group. Cow Harbor is one of those races everyone knows, even non-runners, and it draws a large field of national talent. As an example, Ryan Hall broke the course record and won in 2006 in 28:55. This year, the female winner was Katie McGregor in 33:12. At this race, I think I'll always be an age grouper! I was 10th in my age group in '06, 5th in '07 and 7th in '08. Despite finishing 54 seconds slower than I did last year, I placed 3rd yesterday!

I was pretty excited to finally receive a Cow Harbor award. I hung out, patiently waiting for them to get through all the top-10 awards and a raffle drawing that went on forever. And then everyone just starts leaving! Turns out they just mail out the age group awards because they "don't have time" to hand them out in person. Oh well, I guess I'll have to wait just a little longer. What a bummer!

Stronger

Biking around Central Park this morning, I happen to be keeping pace with a guy I don't know. As I pass him, he says, "you're lighter, more aerodynamic." I've heard this one a million times and with what I've been through this summer, I'm not havin' it. "Is that your excuse?" I ask. "This is my third time on the bike since July 4th, when I broke my wrist." he looks over at me, "Okay, you're stronger..." Heh, heh. That's right, mother f-er.