Training Day Eve

Tomorrow starts the training season for 2008. Today feels a bit like Christmas Eve (didn't I just disparage this holiday on my last blog?). The training wheels with old tires are on my tri bike which is freshly mounted on the Computrainer. The cupboards have been emptied of "garbage food" and filled with pretzels, oatmeal, peanut butter, and honey. Last night, Kevy and I finished off the last our Thanksgiving feast: a magnificently well-marbled (read: cholesterol-clogged, melt-in-your-mouth beef) prime rib roast and roasted garlic mashed potatoes (mashed with heavy cream and butter--yum!). The warm caramel brownie sundaes had been polished off on Friday night. I've dusted off my snowshoes, heart rate monitor, and winter running clothes. I've put my 2008 season goals into writing, talked them over with Mary, and we've come up with a plan.
I don't expect that my 30 min run at E pace and 60 min bike tomorrow is going to magically transform me (like that scene from Cinderella) into Princess Sub-9 at Kona, my tri shorts--too tight now will be hugging 2% body fat glutes after the glitter settles. Nope, I'm just hoping tomorrow's work-outs won't hurt too badly. I doubt they will---my V dot testing is done (Running balls out for 5K after an off-season of casual jogging--now THAT hurt!) and my E pace is embarrasingly slow. I've done a few E pace runs and can't imagine how anyone would get injured running that slow. While I may not feel physiologically challenged during those runs, they are a mental exercise in concentrating on:
1. Cadence: To achieve 90 rpm, I try to have 3 foot falls per second--kind of a fast waltz--and remember this rhythm. I've thought about buying a small electronic metronome, but I need another tri gizmo like I need a hole in my head and wallet.
2. Midfoot strike that's under my hips: In order for the the balls of my feet to land under my hips, I start pulling my leg back before my foot hits the ground. Easy to think about but hard to ingrain into muscle memory and habit after years of running with a loping, heel-striking gait.
3. Pace: When it's time to run slow, I wanna run faster. When the pace and effort pick up (such as during the run test), the whining starts and I wanna slow down. It's a battle of wits (or nitwits!): Logic vs. Habit. Suck it up and run slow/fast when I'm supposed to because this Vdot thing makes sense OR keep running the same kinda-fast-for-me pace that's sure to eventually lead to injury and never lead to a faster run.
Tomorrow starts my 8th season in triathlon, 3rd in long course. I've been doing triathlon long enough to be seasoned--not exactly a veteran, occasionally a curmudgeon, but still a student. Every year a new way to measure and monitor how to run, ride a bicycle, and swim faster with less energy is invented. While the gizmos, training plans, and charts are interesting, it's still just me who is doing the running, riding, and swimming. I take great comfort in that fact because it's the one thing I can control: where my hand enters the water with each stroke, how fast my feet turn over running uphill, what my shoulders are doing while I'm in aero, what and how I think about all of it. So I guess it's not the dress or glass slippers or carriage that used to be a pumpkin that makes one a princess--it's how she carries herself at the ball. Well, looks like fairy godmother and I have got our work cut out for us!

My favorite holiday and kindred spirits

Thanksgiving is hands down my favorite holiday. I love its simplicity: family/friends, food, and football. No presents, no songs, no crazy giant blow-up decorations (I call them "lawn dirigibles"). Don't call me Scrooge yet--I don't have anything against Christmas. I just think that for some folks it's excessive--like an overly coifed girl with too much makeup--she'd be alot more attractive if she didn't try so hard. Also, Thanksgiving makes us think about all the great things we have instead of craving for what we don't have and hoping it's in a box under the tree.
That being said, I'm thankful for kindred spirits. I think that on some level all of us feel like we're outcasts and don't belong (hence the popularity of the Harry Potter books). So when we find another person that has the same interests, hobby, opinion, or tendency we can make a connection and feel like we belong. It probably has something to do with humans being pack animals some 18 ba-jillion years ago.
When I met Coach Mary 3 years ago, I didn't know she was THE MARY EGGERS. At the time she was my spinning class teacher; and I knew she was a nurse. I'll never forget the day she came to class, her hair quite a bit shorter, and announced,"My mom's been bugging me so I finally got my annual haircut." I gasped, "Can it be? Someone else-who's not a Sikh or lives in a 3rd world country-- besides me who gets their haircut only once a year ?" A lively conversation ensued about the ridiculousness of regular trips to a hair salon. We became instant friends.
Kevin tells me he knew I was the girl for him when I reluctantly told him that I only read books by dead authors. I cringed as I said it, expecting him to roll his eyes and think me a literary snob. Instead, I think I saw little pink hearts floating above his smiling face. I knew then we were cut from the same cloth.
Yesterday, I sought out the butcher at Wegman's meat counter. I said, "I need a 6 pound, 3-rib roast: a "top choice" roast cut from the small loin end, ribs 10 through 12. Could you please french the rib bones." I was expecting a blank stare or *Blink* *Blink* and a blank stare or audible eye rolling. Instead, he seemed tickled with the request and went on a rant about where the best cut of prime rib comes from. A fellow meat snob!
So what does any of this have to do with triathlon? Is it time to start training again? Have I filled my idle off-season hours reminscing and talking beef with the local butcher? Starting Monday Kevin and I are back "on-season". For me, it means rejoining old friends and comrades. While I've seen and run with alot of the tri folk in the off-season, that connection of working toward Ironman, half Ironman goals wasn't there. I really missed it--the structure, the focus, and--of course!--the kindred spirits!

TAG!

Mary just tagged me. Here are 5 randoms things about me:

1. My mom named me Kitima in anticipation of being one of the first people to receive my college diploma in Thailand. In Thailand at graduation ceremonies, diplomas are handed out alphabetically according to your FIRST name. (Mom's name begins with the last letter of the Thai alphabet so she was one of the last people in her class to receive her diploma) Mom didn't really care what my name was as along as it began with "k", the first letter of the Thai alphabet.
2. I never went to college in Thailand. Instead, I graduated from Notre Dame. When I applied, I had never heard of the Gipper, Knute Rockne, or the Fighting Irish. I applied because our Thai family friends said there was a good pre-med program.
3. When I was 5 years old, I wanted to grow up and be a Lawrence Welk singer.
4. When I was 9 years old, I read the Bible from cover to cover and declared that I wanted to be a nun even though I have never been baptized (my parents--and now I--are Buddhists).
5. I love salty, fat-laden, cured pork products and foie gras.

Anticipation

Today I rode down a drop-off and stayed shiny side up. It wasn't terribly long--no more than 1.5-2 feet--but the biggest drop-off I've ever gone down and stayed upright to date. It was part of a downhill that I had never been on. Kevy was way ahead and said nothing. I crested the hill, started the steepish descent, and was caught completely unaware. Before I could rationalize,"Put your weight and butt (yep, they are very equivalent) behind the bike, behind the seat." It just happened. I more or less did that and down I went. Is that what instinct is?
I was exhilarated and proud of my small victory. I was even more happy to avoid the whole rigmarole of seeing the obstacle, sensing fear of injury, berating myself for being a pussy, overcoming fear and self-flagellation, thinking about the technical steps of traversing the obstacle, and *big sigh* feeling my back wheel bounce over it.
By the time that drop off registered in my little neurotic brain, I didn't have time to anticipate any fear or that Carly Simon song. I believe the neurologic pathway was mostly subconscious and went like this: Drop off--> self-preservation-->lean back, hold on. And that's it. I'm going to hold on to today's experience in order to pull it out of my files during a race. Don't get me wrong--no one...and I mean it, NO ONE loves to belabor the details and the possible scenarios--good and bad of racing and training than me. However, after clearing that drop-off today (almost accidentally), I went on to bounce over the every log where I usually clip-out or dab. I had let go of anticipation today, skipped an entire well-rehearsed pathway of neurosis, and added a few pennies to the bank of bike handling skills.

A good teacher and Dodging a loaded question

In my former life I was a gastric bypass surgeon. While the operation itself was fun, the most challenging and best part of that job was educating and motivating people to use their "new stomachs" as a tool for weight loss and ultimately, better health. I found that adult education is different from the education of children in that we adults bring to the classroom alot more prejudices, beliefs, and pre-conceived notions that may hinder our ability to learn something new or do something in a different way. I'm always impressed with people who take up a triathlon or snowboarding or painting in their 40's, 50's, and 60's.
I'm also still surprised with what motivates people. Most people respond positively with encouragement. Some respond very well to reward and punishment (myself included). A few seemingly incorrigible individuals respond to scolding (which make me very uneasy from the giving end). What motivates people (and myself) to change and learn will continue to be a ongoing process of discovery for me.
All that being said, I have found Kevin to be a good teacher on mountain biking. First, he never gives me more than 3 pieces of advice per ride. I can't handle more than that! Second, he seems to know when I'm being a wimp and need to hear,"Suck it up, buttercup, and RIDE," and when I'm really justified for fear and stops to explain how to traverse a slick log that's on an off-camber drop-off. Third, (I hate to admit this one) he knows when he's got to patronize me. Just up the trail I'll hear,"This is gonna look worse than it really is--it's just like a rollercoaster, honey!". I get to a series of small hills and valleys in close succession where I'd usually unclip or tense up, but instead I roll through it---just like a rollercoaster. I am rewarded with an "Atta girl!" and there's a huge grin on my face.
So post-ride, I'm feeling round in the edges and stuffed into my bike shorts. Stricken with guilt (but not enough guilt), I lay on Kevin the classic female loaded question,"Do you think I'm fat?" He takes one look at me and without hesitation he responds,"Don't lose weight for me. I think you look great. But if you want to break 5:30 at Eagleman, you'd better drop some pounds." My teacher---he's like freakin' Yoda!

A Fall

Yesterday, Kevin, Shari, and I rode our mountains in the cold and spitting rain. The trails were barely muddy (it's been so dry all season), but the wet leaves carpeted the trails and roots, rocks, and logs were slick. My back tire kept slipping and sliding over even the smallest obstacles. Shari fell for the first time on a slick downhill. Her bike slid out from under her to the left and she launched off the bike to the right, thankfully into a pile of soft leaves. She shook off the golden leaves and mud in her confident fashion, but I knew that she now made that connection of fear to pain. We rode on a bit more and at the crest of a hill her back wheel skidded irratically under a cluster of slippery roots. I could tell she was mentally done (only because I've been there about 100 times on the mtb). We cut the ride short as there was nothing to be gained in confidence or bike handling skills. She felt badly about it, but had my full empathy.
I'm confident that when we're back on those trails this weekend she'll bounce back and be my fearless riding partner again. Really, if I could get over all of my mtb mishaps ANYONE can! But there's nothing like a fall (or injury) to emphasize the vulnerability of our courage, strength, or skill. On the flip side, there's nothing like a setback to give us the opportunity to become more brave, strong, or skillful.
As athletes we all remember our most glorious achievements or feats of physical strength, coordination, or determination. We feel bullet-proof and invincible at those moments. When we think about athletes who are our heroes, we remember them in victory---Kona wins of Natasha Badmann, Paula Newby-Frasier, Dave Scott, Mark Allen, and Dick Hoyt and his son. They all seem so graceful and strong. It's difficult to pair these images with illness, age, injury, puking up Gatorade on the A race course but in doing so it gives a more whole picture. Our victories (and theirs) can be as transient or permanent as our falls.
It's true that scar tissue is less functional, has less tensile strength than the original tissue before injury. However, it's also true that we can be physiologically and psychologically adaptable and resilient. Yep, we'll be back on those trails again with our healing scrapes and bruises, memories of wiping out and the associated pain. Hopefully, we will clean steeper uphills and hop over bigger logs.