I Love Lake Tahoe

I was driving in Tahoe for a training weekend and spotted
this bear. 

So I love Lake Tahoe. By love, I mean it’s always felt like home to me. Not a cabin. Not a location at the beach. The whole place. I grew up camping and skiing, fishing and swimming there.

When the World Triathlon Corporation announced they would host a new North American Ironman at Lake Tahoe I actually contemplated signing up. Me. Me who had never ever had a desire to race an entire Ironman race. I had completed a few sprint triathlons, an Olympic and International distance triathlon and had just completed a half-ironman distance. But a whole one? Me? Un uh. No way. But then Tahoe was announced.

I remembered years earlier, being a fit synchronized swimmer, competing at the National level. One summer I went to Northstar at Tahoe and ran a little 5K or 10K race with my dad. I was sure I would beat him, even though I never ran simply because I was fit. I was wrong. The altitude kicked my butt and it was hot and I had a splitting headache and my dad kicked my butt even more, with bragging rights for many years. But I also thought about my more recent accomplishments in Tahoe; mountain biking, road biking, running, swimming, kayaking, paddle boarding and decided if not now, when? Why not?

I trained hard. I took a summer off from teaching. I gave up a lot of social activities with friends, family and relationally in order to train. I was never going to win an award or set speed records but I wanted to give it my best shot.

Then I did a stupid move. I ran in my bike cleats to move my car and broke my ankle. Crap. I was out of the race just two weeks before it was held.

My mom had to drive me to
my doctor appointment. 

Smiling for my friend's husband while waiting for X-ray results. 

Watching all of my teammates at Ironman Lake Tahoe 2013.

My new goal was to heal and be able to move pain-free. I wanted to be able to swim, and bike and run and to hike and heck, I wanted to be able to walk without feeling pain or to not think about my ankle or be controlled by it. I aqua-jogged, I went to physical therapy, I swam using my arms only and I slowly biked. While sleeping I dreamt about trail running. I missed that the most I think. Me, the slow, non-runner grieved the loss of freedom while running on a dirt trail surrounded by beauty and being lost in thought.

 Slowly, slowly I regained the use of my body.  At first, I was on schedule and I would even venture to say ahead of what I thought I could do physically. But soon I found I had to pull back. I was pushing myself with the group, rather than listening to my own body and limits. I got a virus that lasted about three weeks and took what felt like months to fully recover, especially while riding my bike. I also had some financial choices to make and coaching was not one expense I could justify with the unexpected ones I had recently encountered. So reluctantly I pulled away.

Even so, I signed up for the Lake Tahoe Half Ironman. The goal to was to complete, not compete. I was swimming and biking and running my way to fitness again. Around that time period, a man I know who coaches asked me some very good questions, “Are you enjoying yourself? Are you having fun? Do you like doing the things you’re doing?” The fact is, I was. I did. It was because this time I had decided to rewrite my training to incorporate all the things I love, instead of sacrificing everything in the same manner I had the year before and this past winter.

Earlier, when I was trying to keep pace with everyone else, and pushing myself beyond what I should have at times, the answer was clearly no. I was kind of desperately moving forward, doing what I “should do” which meant getting up early despite having stayed up late and well, getting myself sick in the process.

This time I could answer, heck yes.

Pacifica mountain bike ride with a lovely view. 

Mondays were my day “off” and I decided to try and incorporate yoga. I was encouraged to use it to strengthen my ankle and eventually joined a yoga cooperative near my home. While improving the strength of both my ankle and my core I found the meditation at the end often even more beneficial. Breathing in. Breathing out. Being in the moment. Feeling feelings. Breathe again.

Lake Chabot

Tuesday night mountain bike friends.

Tuesdays I got to sleep in a little later and I then mountain biked in the evenings after work. I happened to have met an entirely new group of people while riding with another woman who was injured last year. She got a flat and as we were in the midst of changing it, this friendly, welcoming group of people came and helped finish the job. Then they asked us to bike with them. I haven’t looked back. Each week as our group rides and as the sunlight has gotten shorter, I have experienced new “firsts.” One ride in particular, was magic.  We saw many deer, a bobcat and a supermoon, while riding the entire way around the lake near my house in the dark wearing my Jetlites headlamp strapped to the top of my helmet.

Wednesdays involved two workouts: swimming and running. I switched up the times and locations but slowly got where I could kick again while swimming and run without walking at a decent, if not record-breaking clip. I did not join my race club’s track workouts though, I told myself I would work on speed and cadence after the Half Ironman and once I was consistently pain-free. For right now, I just needed to run and slowly increase my time and distances. I worked my way up to over two hours for running and over eleven miles of trail running.

Commuting to work via BART is ALWAYS
interesting; once I was stuck in the elevator
in the heat and once I got stuck on a train. 

Thursdays I commuted on my heavy cross check touring bike. I would either ride to BART and work and then ride the entire way home or do the reverse. There is a decent climb going in either direction while lugging my pannier of clothes, food and work items and I had the added benefit of feeling good about not driving my car, at least one day a week, sometimes two. It meant an early morning alarm in order for me to ride to work on time and I always arrived sweaty. I had to give myself a sponge bath at work but it was so worth it. I felt empowered or in my happy place after starting the day riding. I have also sadly learned about road rage and drivers not paying attention and almost hitting me and needing to drive more defensively, always on the lookout for car doors opening, cars pulling out before looking left again and reading ugly postings on friends’ Facebook pages about wanting to kill bicyclists. On the reverse, I’ve had friends wanting to blow through stop signs while riding and I guess I can say I can see both points of view. If everyone would just obey the rules…

Friday runs at Lake Chabot.

Fridays I ran and swam again, before and after work. The running was usually at the lake but later as the training grew longer I sometimes needed to run on flat surfaces and would run on the trail near my work, in the dirt alongside the paved trail. Here I also had a surprise one week and ran into some women on the team I belong to and got to have my first group run in over a year.

Hope Valley in the Northern Sierras. A beautiful training ride. 

Pie post-bike ride in Hope Valley.

Saturdays were reserved for longer rides, often alone but sometimes with friends who were training for other events or riding in Tahoe if I was in the area. I even had a century ride planned after I had been sick with the flu. The men I tour with and the two women I train most often with were there too. I urged them to go on without me. They steadfastly refused to do so. At every rest stop for over 63 miles they waited while I managed the 6,000 feet of climbing. I planned to quit when it got really bad. It never got SO bad I guess, just mildly bad the entire time…because it was slow-going the entire day. I can’t tell you what it is like to ride up to a rest stop and feel so loved and supported and humbled and gassed. I learned that day I am mentally tough and that I can push myself and that friends and teammates and people in general can be so encouraging. A simple soda at a critical juncture can mean so much.

Lake Chabot training trail run. 

I’d wake up early Sunday mornings and slowly increased the time and mileage until I was able to run all the way around the lake near my house. The feeling? Pure joy. Another awesome day was finally getting to run again with some guys I’d known for a few years, joining a trail group I’d been following but unable to train with due to injuries or training schedules. I was emotional running the first time around the lake, thinking of how I could only dream about trails months earlier. I’ve also learned to enjoy the quiet times of swimming or biking or running alone. I don’t play music so I can hear cars or people approaching but find I can get lost in my thoughts and it can be therapeutic and meditative.

First run all the way around the lake!

A school's leadership team of students were passing these out during a long Sunday run, how cool is that?

Sharkfest Swim in Aquatic Park, San Francisco 

Credit and kudos goes to my coach for understanding and encouraging me as I did my training in this new manner. He even sat and met with me for nearly two hours a few months before the event to look at the training I had done and just chat with me about it. He encouraged me to continue, made a few minor suggestions and made himself available in the future when or if I decide to continue on my quest for completing an Ironman.

Post-Sharkfest breakfast; french toast and chicken with strawberries. I'm fueling up for my bike tour to Half Moon Bay.

Bike tour!

This happened in the exact place where I fell and broke my ankle the year before....

Last short spin across the Bay Bridge and
through Emeryville, Berkeley, Albany and
Richmond too. Now I have a new goal: bike
around the entire Bay in the upcoming year.

When this weekend finally arrived for the Ironman Lake Tahoe Half Triathlon, I had decided I was going to enjoy every moment of the entire course, even the hard parts.  My nickname of “Smiley” from my friend would be well earned.

My coworkers gave this to me, that's a pretty good imitation of how I feel when riding.

On the way up to Tahoe I stopped at the National Veterans
Cemetery in Dixon to have a little chat with my dad.

Because it snowed last year, I was prepared for every weather contingency. I was prepared for snow, rain and heat. I had a new nutrition product this year, also suggested by my friend and I can only write good things about it. It is a hydration product called Osmo The idea is to have fluid in the bottle and nutrition in the pocket, keeping the two separate. I often suffer heatstroke but while using Osmo I never did. I have begun to sweat more while working out which is a good thing. My body now cools itself. Normally I would turn beat red, hardly sweat, get a heat rash and often get the chills while training. Not any longer. For the race I would also be wearing my Bia Sport Watch. The women who developed this watch have thought of everything, it can be worn while swimming, biking or running. It has intervals that match the Jeff Galloway run/walk method I had planned to use while completing the half ironman. It also has a safety feature which sends out a signal if I’m in distress. I’ve gotten to “know” the Bia team and they have been a constant source of encouragement and I will be a forever-faithful customer as a result. I also had found a comfortable tri kit by Coeur to wear, with an anti-chafing chamois that has no seams (not everyone has the issues I have had in that arena, but trust me, it’s not fun and can infringe on training in a very * real * way).

                               

                                          Just a short ride to shake the nerves out of our legs for tomorrow's race.

Here I met with an Ironman Alumni from last year the day before the race. 

She and I had met on a training ride up Brockway the year before. She's 

been a constant source of enrouragement this past year along with another 

Ironman alumni. 

Dropping off our T1 transition bags in Kings Beach.

Bike transition the morning of the race. 

Just before the race was to begin. 

So an arsonist sabotaged the entire race. The smoke caused the event to be canceled just minutes before it was to begin. I feel bad for the people who have lost their homes, the firefighters who have fought the fire at great sacrifice to their health and their families. I feel badly for all of the people in Tahoe who were counting on the monies earned on race day for their livelihoods. I feel badly for the volunteers who came to give of their time, or did, in the smoky air. I met a worker for the World Triathlon Corporation, wearing a mask, packing up the venue on race day. Her coworker had asthma and she insisted she stay inside while she did the bulk of outdoor work that day. She, in turn, said she felt bed for all of the athletes as she had completed an Ironman and knew how disappointed everyone must be. And I felt bad for the athletes, knowing the work they had put into the day. I think of their families, knowing how they have supported and sacrificed for their spouses, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, loved ones and how they were disappointed too.

THIS is why the race was canceled. That is smoke filling the sky.

As for me? I’m not sad. I do not feel let down. I jokingly said I had a new personal record or PR, at least this year I had made it to the starting line.

But the truth is this. I’ve gained so much. I am walking and moving pain-free. More than that, I have rediscovered the joy of my fitness routine. I can kick while swimming, I can pedal pretty hard and pretty far, I can run in the dirt canopied by a forest of oak or pine trees. I can ride in the dark. I can swim in the cold.  I can run in the heat. I can mountain bike while training. I can be alone, for hours by myself and have found contentment.

And you know what? I still love Lake Tahoe.

My team nickname is "Mayhem." I dubbed it

"Mayhem No Mas" for 2014. I suppose I need to 

drop the "No Mas."     *sigh*

   Post-"race" breakfast, bacon filled waffles and chicken with
boysenberry syrup and blueberries. 

Postscript: I got an email today and looks like I’ll be racing in a week at a totally different venue. This one is in the ocean and the heat and the sand on a flat course. Why not? It will be the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Who knows where it will take me?

A Tip from Babies about Perfect Parenting

Approximately 15 years ago I was walking around downtown Truckee with my family while on vacation. Inside a favorite dress shop I noticed a colorful beaded bracelet. It had a perfect French blue hand-blown heart-shaped glass bead, some silver beads with carvings on them, each one a different shape; octagon, circular and square. There was a ceramic white circle-shaped bead with a painted brown dog, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. There was a black and blue oval-shaped striped bead, a wooden red one, and a blue spherical bead with a beach ball painted on it with another painted dog wagging his tail. There were many other varieties of red, blue and clear beads, many shapes, sizes and textures, some ordinary and some rather unique.

I think parenting is a lot like that bracelet. 

The ordinary days, where there are piles of laundry and bathrooms that need cleaning, carpets need vacuuming, shelves and knick-knacks need dusting, breakfasts, lunches, dinners and beds need to be made. Inevitably there is driving or carpool, spills to be wiped up, and toys to be tidied. Perhaps there is yet another argument about who gets the front seat, or a door is slammed, and you've read the last story, tucked in the final blanket, kissed the remaining child's forehead and settled upon the couch or the bed to read, watch TV, pay bills or head into the shower to begin your own nighttime routine. You remind yourself to put the chicken in the fridge so it will defrost in time to cook dinner tomorrow and you throw the last load in the dryer, brush your teeth and hopefully remember to floss. 

Maybe you feel uninspired by your parenting that day. Maybe guilty you didn't get everything done, or weren't as patient as you could have been. 

Or maybe you had a great day. 

Maybe you plopped your baby on the lawn, and they sat like a little tripod with chubby legs extended out in front of them. They leaned over in concentration and with their one stubby pointed finger touched a dandelion you hadn't even noticed. Or your baby smiled and looked intently at a spot between their legs. You lean over to look at it's significance and notice the ant crawling in the grass, or the lone pine needle that now has your baby's undivided attention. You notice the sound of the birds, or the airplane flying overhead or the distant bark of a dog because of your baby.

And just like that you have learned to recognize the uniqueness that is all around that maybe you'd forgotten or been too busy to notice but because you saw the day through your child's eyes, you realized it was pretty darn special.

Sleeping outside under the stars and the protection of a Magnolia tree, positioned on top of a blue camping tarp, with sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, three squirming kids, a jack russell terrier and a tired mommy can produce magic.

Spying on your toddler son wearing nothing but cowboys boots and training pants with his big sister in her underwear enjoying a tea party on the backyard grass in  the dead of winter sunshine, secretly filming them from a window is magical too.

Magic is also building forts made of couch cushions and instead of making it all come down and cleaning up, seeing the astonished looks on your three children's' faces as you tell them that perhaps we'd best keep it there for playtime tomorrow.

Another magical and memorable day happened many many years ago. My children's daddy was working at the firehouse and I had the day off from teaching, or it was the weekend, or summer, I don't remember that part. I do remember deciding it would be a beach day for the four of us. I packed a lunch, towels, changes of clothes, jackets in case it was chilly on the coast, sand-pails and shovels, as well as getting all three children readied with swimwear. We got in our new-to-us, used car with the now novel sun-roof. We cranked up the music and headed in the direction of the beach.

I recall the freedom, driving with the fresh air, comfy seats and feeling as if something special might happen. We drove to our favorite beach past Half Moon Bay and camped ourselves there for duration of the day. The kids swam in the shallow fresh waters that feed into the saltwater. Sandcastles were built and Nerf Balls were thrown. All of that activity was a great way to spend the day but soon it was time to pack up, dust the sand off our bodies and throw dry sweatshirts on over our swimsuits.

"Mommy, what are those people doing over there?

"Hmmm, I don't know. Let's go see."

We worked our way over the mounds of sand to where the crashing waves were located.

And there we saw magic moment number one.

"A whale!!! Do you see it? Oh-my-gosh, it's a WHALE!!" they screamed.

The smallish whale was just off the shoreline, barely a stone's throw away. The entire crowd of beachcombers stood as one, now silent except for the sporadic inhales of breath and sighs as we all marveled together.

I was born in Oakland and had grown up going to the beach with my family and had never seen a whale offshore like this one.

We stood for a good ten or fifteen minutes just watching. And watched some more.

Reluctantly we pulled ourselves away from the shore to the car and headed home. We drove over the hills, up the windy roads and across the bridge and freeways to the valley where I grew up. We were headed through it when I noticed magic moment number two.

There in the middle of the canyon, with small ranches and farms sprinkled with cows, sheep, goats or horses was a passing lane for cars commuting through it.  I could see a young man on the left-hand side of the road. I pulled over.

There seated on a little stool was the young shirtless male in blue jeans. He was positioned perfectly in an acoustic location, just past the t-intersection of hills. He was jamming on his drum set a catchy rhythmic song.

"Look! That man is playing music, mommy! He's playing on his drums!"

We all started swaying to the music in unison, left, bob-up-and-down, right, bob-up-and-down, left.

We waited until his song was over and I slowly pulled back onto the road. We headed toward home but first we had a Costco stop. And after filling our grocery cart, waiting in line for our turn to pay, I witnessed magic moment number three.

I have to confess, at this point I can't remember the exact words that were spoken. I just remember the 20-something year old clerk was cool to my son. Way cool. My son was in kindergarten or first grade, the age where little boys begin to tell silly jokes. Sometime these silly jokes made no sense whatsoever. My son's dad, his sisters and I enjoyed his sense of humor which was just beginning to develop. Knock-knock jokes were all the rage and so, much to my amusement, he began to tell his joke to the clerk. I was a little teensy bit nervous because, as I said, some of his jokes made no sense. But he innocently plowed right into the joke telling. And you know what? That clerk laughed. And my son laughed too. He then high-fived my son. My son beamed.

And I just knew it. That day was one of the perfect ones. We had experienced a whale sighting, an acoustic drum jam session in the middle of a canyon and were the lucky recipients of the one checkstand clerk who would laugh and high-five my son and his novice joke telling.

My Truckee bracelet has a few plain, ordinary beads mixed in with the colorful painted ones, no two exactly alike. Parenting days are like that too. The tricky part, if you're not careful, is not noticing them. So perhaps today is a day to take a tip from the babies, and just notice.