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?

Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon Race Recap

This is a recap of my very first attempt at the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon, albeit a little bit "after the fact."

The week leading up to the triathlon was busy professionally and personally. My school year was coming close to finishing up and that entails a lot: grading, report cards, graduation and getting ready for summer school. My youngest daughter was graduating from the high school nearby too and there were preparations for the celebratory extravaganza for both she and her friends. Personally things were in a bit of an upheaval in the relationship arena. I'd like to brush that part aside and say it had no bearing on my week but that wasn't the case. In fact, it affected my sleep and my head and my heart so by the night before Alcatraz I did not feel well. Mentally I was not in a good place. Physically I was sleep-deprived, dehydrated and though I drank extra fluids it was not enough.

I gave up trying to sleep around 3:30am and decided to get up and head to San Francisco and set up my bike transition which was opening at 4:00am. I grabbed a banana and toasted half of a bagel adding peanut butter with toasted flaxseeds mixed into it with a bit of honey to top it off. Note to self: DO NOT EAT FLAXSEEDS on race day ever again. Never ever.

It was still dark and after I crossed the Bay Bridge I took a moment to soak in how beautiful it looked all lit up with lights. The magic of the day was just beginning...

I parked my car (finding a spot was not an easy task), finished up the bagel and unloaded my bike, wetsuit, running shoes, towel and everything else. Finding my rack position for my bike was a bit trickier than I anticipated but all of the other athletes were helpful. I racked my bike, set up a towel with my helmet, bike gloves and sunglasses. I set up another area on my towel for my running shoes, a visor and sunscreen.

I got in line for the bathroom, earlier-mentioned flaxseeds making it VERY necessary to visit IMMEDIATELY. Afterward I headed over to my transition area and the woman across from me pointed out my chain had fallen off my bike. I thanked her and immediately got to work to fix it. I also made sure my bike was in a nice easy gear for after the swim and transition run, knowing my legs would need to warm up.

I grabbed my wetsuit and headed in line for the bus which would bring all of us to the boat for our race's start. Everyone was excited and friendly and nervous. The  morning was memorable, no fog, warm temperatures and the views were breathtaking.

We were delivered to a nearby dock. I drank the remainder of my water and began to put on  my new wetsuit applying Body Glide on any spots prone to chafing. I was glad I had made the decision to put it on later, rather than sooner. There was so much time remaining, it didn't make sense to put it on beforehand. It would be at the finish of the race later in the day. I debated whether to use my neoprene swim cap with the chinstrap and the race cap over it or a traditional cap. I opted to use a traditional cap, put my goggles on and then the yellow swimcap I was given. I knew it was warmer than normal and decided it would be a nice swim, not too cold. I  put my sweatpants, jacket, extra swim cap and goggles in one of two bags provided by the race directors. After I turned it in I realized I had forgotten to put in my flip-flops, the only glitch thus far. I had to forever say good-bye to them, leaving them behind, they had served me well over the years so parting was sweet sorrow.  I wish I could have photographed this portion of the race, everyone lined up like seals as we boarded.

On the boat we sat and waited for take-off. The sun was rising, Alcatraz was ahead, the City behind and the Golden Gate to our left as we chugged along. More magic.

After the boat reached its destination we stopped and got ready for everyone to disembark by jumping into the Bay.  The professionals lined up outside while nearby boats had their cameras were aimed and ready, helecoptors hovered above, kayakers and paddleboarders surrounded us on standby, ready to help guide the swimmers.

The people I had spoken to who had completed this race: Jeff, Steve, Rob, Jonathon and Gordon said it was, "All about the swim." One friend said after I jump in the Bay to take a moment, look around and purposefully take in the moment.  I had also been coached to aim for the two tall buildings behind Aquatic Park and then turn right toward the beach exit. If I needed help, all I needed to do was to raise my hand and eventually I would be "rescued." I also knew I wouldn't.

As I stood in the group preparing to jump off the boat, the woman in front of me, likely in her 60's, turned to me and said, "Please do not jump in until I am out of the way." I could hear her frightened tone as she looked at me.

I said, "I promise I won't jump on you."

My heart began pounding, the anxiety catching. I leapt off the boat while keeping one hand on my goggles. And I was off!

While swimming thoughts swirled in my head. This is so great! I want to do this again! Look at Alcatraz over there. Wow! The Golden Gate is right there and everything is soooooooo clear. This is not so cold. 

After some time had passed, the water grew very choppy. I imagined that this is what it must feel like to swim inside a washing machine. I continued onward. Even though I knew to head to the left, there was a large group headed further right. I wondered if they had received last minute instructions about a change in the currents. Essentially I was told we were swimming across two river currents...by heading a little to the right I was pulled toward the Golden Gate and far to the right of the swim exit. No less than four times I gave 100% effort to go left toward the exit. Each time I would head left, pulling really really hard, lift my head and I was turned 180 degrees and facing the bridge. Finally the crew on the boat pointed to shore, and yelled for me to exit at the beach away from the exit. I did so, knowing I'd have to run across the sand and rocks. I stood and fell down as both legs were severely cramping.

I crawled and caveman walked to the exit area. I began to run with cramped legs to my tennis shoes. I pulled off my wetsuit, thew it over my shoulder, put on my shoes and ran to my bike. I thew my wetsuit on the ground, changed into my bike shoes, put on my sunglasses, helmet and gloves. I grabbed my bike and ran/walk to the next transition exit and began the bike ride.

This was the time to eat. I tried to grab bites of an energy bar I had cut up and drink some of my sports drink. My stomach was rebelling. I ate a Tums, something a friend had coached me to do if my stomach needed settling. I did as many bike pedal rotations as I could to try and de-cramp my calves. It did not help but I soldiered onward.

It was a game of cat and mouse with my fellow riders. My legs continued cramping on the uphills and I would pedal, pedal, pedal, getting passed. A downhill would approach and I would let 'er rip! Wheeeeeeeeeee! I'd pass my fellow bikers.

The day was perfect for this leg of the race: clear, sunny and with further  breathtaking views. Up, down, forward and onward we rode, soon we were approaching the transition area again.

"Go TeamCindy!" I looked and there was Colleen, TeamCindy's race coordinator and cheerleader extraordinaire. I was happy to have her and others yell out encouraging words  every so often along the course throughout the day. It gave me an energy boost each time.

Next I traded my bike shoes for running shoes, my helmet for a visor and added two knee braces. My calves were still cramping as I headed out on the run along the oceanside. This was not going to be a piece of cake. My entire day I felt slow and heavy and legs continued to cramp. Still, I really did enjoy my fellow athletes, we'd talk as we ran, co-miserating together or giving words of encouragement. I kept reminding myself that this was about the experience and not a race. Not this time. Not this day. Not for me.

As I ran down the street, I heard someone yell, "Kathy!" and looked to my right. There, standing under the shade of a tree, stood my son Troy. He had gotten up very early, driven to San Francisco, parked his car several City blocks away and found me in a sea of people. I really can't put into words what that meant, seeing my man-boy, his head tilted to the side, grinning that sweet smile of his, directed at me. I can only say I had a very familiar lump in my throat and had to work very hard to breathe in air at that point. It touched me so.

I forged onward.

I did not realize I was smiling during this tedious part until I heard a man running toward me in the opposite direction say, "At least someone is still smiling!"

Still. When it got even harder, climbing the first set of stairs, the upward trail, the mogul-y sand or the cursed 400 sand ladder steps, I knew I could not or would not stop.  This was all about TeamCindy, for Anamarie Neveau. I was lucky to be here on this day with cramps in my calves, sun beating above with  a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Remember how awful this is, do NOT sign up for this race next year. I'm SO hot. Where is the end?!?

I s-l-o-w-l-y made my way back to the finish line.

I did not sprint to the end. I could not. I was tired. My calves hurt. My knees hurt. My body's tank was empty from a week of little sleep, a lot of questions in matters of the heart, and most of my morning fuel had gone through me due to a poor food choice before the race even began.

I finished.

I can say that I'm trying to find satisfaction in having completed the course during an unusually warm day, with a rebelling stomach, protesting knees, angry calves and a confused and bruised heart.

I can say I'm proud that many friends, family, team mates and yes, strangers, donated on behalf of Anamarie to the Brain Aneurysm's TeamCindy. Together we raised $3,545 to date. I met Cindy's mom via emails and phone calls, she is a hero in my mind. Some day I plan to meet her in person.  I can only say I feel a kinship to the maternal love and desperation that would drive her to create TeamCindy. I have felt that desperation this past year.  I thank her for allowing me to work through some of my own matters of the "mommy heart" in a way that helps other, while also doing something I love doing: swimming, biking and running. For that, I will always be grateful to both she and the organization she created.

I can say that Escape From Alcatraz was, to date, the hardest, slowest, most challenging and disappointing race I have completed.

It was also one of the most rewarding.