anything is possible

I better write while the memories are fresh...

We took all four of us to Lubbock this weekend. That means Me, Mr. Me, and My People. The busy people who are now 5. This was an ill-advised trip for the four of us, but Mr. Me wanted to do the Tri-Raider sprint, and we thought we would be able to figure out the logistics.

We're smart people. It could happen.

Let me tell you: getting all four of us packed into a car and rolling by 6:00 on Saturday morning, driving the 5.5 hrs and keeping everyone fed, happy and entertained on the way is not a job for the faint of heart.

Quite frankly, I was relieved to be on my own for the start of the Buffalo Springs Lake 70.3 Triathlon on Sunday morning. Even if it was some ungodly hour.

This was my first half-iron. I can call it that, since it's an officially sanctioned M-dot race. My beloved, who has only done the DeuceMan cannot say he's done a 70.3, nor can he say he's done a 'half iron'...but I can!

My stomach was in knots for the Show Low Olympic, and I was a complete mess for BSLT. I absolutely could not eat the evening before the race. Relaxing was out of the question. I felt horrible, heavy, logie. Exhausted. I really questioned whether I could even do the race. I confided to my husband that I'd just try the swim and see what happened. I wasn't counting on getting far on the bike, the run just seemed impossible, especially considering the last two horrid runs I'd put in, and the horribleness that was Show Low.

That I even made it down to the lake is some kind of miracle. We got to the transition area after a long parking queue - and a hike down the hill. I was standing in line at the porta potties (only 2 in transition? WTF???) when the elite wave took off (by the way, I'm sure I saw Desiree Ficker in transition - she seems tall in person. And very cute). I didn't even have my wetsuit on.

I quickly got it mostly on, and hobbled down to the lake. I saw someone else struggling to get theirs on, and offered to trade assistance.

The water wasn't cold. It was actually pleasant. I tried to pull as much slack as I could up over my shoulders, to see if that didn't help eliminate the shoulder cramps I experienced at Show Low.

Mine was the next to last wave to leave the beach. All the other fast kids had taken off, some of the elites were already back in transition ready to take off on the bike when the air horn sounded and we had to go.

I distinctly recall thinking, "what the f*ck am I doing here?"

But I swam anyway. Greyhound is right, the lake tastes like lawnmower fuel. I suppose that's because the race wasn't long after the Father's Day Drag Boat Racing competition, I consider this event the Nascar of the marine world.

For a moment I could feel the "I'll never finish this!!!" panic, and I forced it back down. This time, the panic only followed me for half of the swim before I started to pick it up and sorta kinda race a little. I stopped twice to try and pee. Why is it so hard to pee in the lake when I'm swimming? I have to stop moving my legs and just go - and that takes effort. I'm sure the guys in the kayaks were watching me going, "what the hell is she doing?" I contemplating hanging off a kayak for a moment to just let it out. Instead I treaded water for a minute to warm up my suit.

And then I'd swim some more.

Actually it got a lot easier. The shoulder thing went away once I started swimming with more than 2 strokes per breath. I think the shoulder thing is due to the panic. I think this may actually improve with time. And maybe there is a better suit out there than the one I rented.

Time for swim: 50:09. I'm happy with that. I was shooting for a 50 or sub-50 swim. I know I can do better than that - my pool pace is about 2:00/100m (this was a 2:36/100m), so we'll call it "room to grow".

4:58 in transition. Yes, I was painting my nails. And I had to pee some more. The transition area was a ghost town. I wasn't DFL out of the water, but it kind of felt that way.

They throw a horrendous hill at you straight out of transition, but I knew about this (I did tri-raider last year). I wasn't exactly thinking straight when I hit it, but I muddled through it. I muddled through the whole bike actually. I found myself surprised to be on the bike, and surprised that the weather wasn't blazingly hot. It was beautiful and overcast, and cool.

I was mostly alone for the whole bike course. I was slow out of the water, and in the next-to-last wave. I passed a few, but mostly I rode alone. I had three pervasive thoughts with me during the bike:

* More power less money (as in, get down and get funky with the aerobars, where you make the same or more power with more efficiency).
* Make hay (as in, the wind is at my back, the road is flat, I'm going to make power where I can).
* You'll keep feeling good if you consume food (I took in 4 gels, 6 E-caps, 1/2 a bottle of perpetuem, 1 bag of sport beans, 1/2 a bottle of cytomax, 1/2 a bottle of heed, many many ounces of water, 1/2 a clif bar. I think it was enough. Dehydration and electrolyte intake were my biggest concerns).

OK, so, a lot of people complain about the hills on this course. The nice thing about the course at BSLT is that the hills are discreet - you see them coming, they have a beginning and an end. Everywhere between the hills is marvelously flat, in a way you only find in West Texas. You fly along on the flat part, fall into a canyon, climb out, turn around, rinse, repeat. I didn't find any of the hills overly challenging, but they are not trivial. The grades range from 2.9% to 8.9%, ranging in length from a quarter mile to maybe 3/4 of a mile.

The last hill, by the way, is the cruelest - they throw the 8.9% grade at you when you're less than a mile from the transition area. I very nearly got off the bike and walked it. Not funny.

Geekgirl is right - having just come away from Iron Horse, and from Show Low, I'm thinking Hill Schmill. You call that a hill?

Even so, I'm not proud of my bike time. I had at least 2 full-on get-off-the-bike-and-hit-the-potty stops, and 2 full-on stop-and-fill-'er-ups on the aerodrink. Plus I never really got comfortable - I don't know if it's because I need more time in the saddle, or if there' s a fit issue upon me - but my shoulders were very sore by the end. That, and my butt was completely raw by the end of the bike. The last 10 to 15 miles were the hardest, I wasn't making a lot of power. I'm gonna say this is why my bike was a not-so-speedy 3:46:32.

I had a somewhat speedier 3:47 in T2. I was looking for a place to pee, and could not find one. The two porta-potties in transition were now disaster zones. They should have been condemned. Gee, I must be well hydrated, thought I.

I had no great hope for the run. My last two long runs were horrible, and I knew that the BSLT run would be a sustained misery. Hot. Relentless. And there would be 13.1 miles of it. I'll just do what I can, I thought.

My legs were like lead for the first 2 miles. I walked through every aid station. I picked up a gel and water at the first 2 or 3 aid stations. I put ice in my bra, I put water on my head. I begged some advil off someone at mile 3.

By mile 4, I started to feel OK. I thought, OK, I think I can do this.

So I did.

I got a gel and water at most of the aid stations. There is debate on whether this was too much, but I was grabbing gels with extra sodium. I felt my stomach start to cramp at a couple of points, and took 3 more e-caps. Cramps gone.

There was a hill - it wasn't bad. I walked I ran. Hill Schmill.

There was the torturous out-and-back at the energy lab: 2 miles of stick-straight running where you can see the heat waves on the pavement before you hit the turnaround.

6.55 miles. Dang! I'm doing this!

2 miles back down the Highway To Hell straightaway. More gel, more ice in the bra. Icy rag around my neck. More water.

I picked up a pacer going down the hill - he was a multiple marathoner. His pace was a touch faster than mine, so I ran at his pace and you know what? It felt OK. Was I pacing him, or was he pacing me? Either way, it was nice to have the company.

10 miles. BOOYAH!

At miles 11 and 12 I started passing people. Passing. I'd spent the whole day virtually alone, and NOW I start passing people.

I'm going to have a negative split on this run. Wow.

I lost my pacer in the last mile - he was tired, the last rolling hill killed his quads. See you at the finish.

I passed someone else in the last quarter mile. It seemed a little mean at the time, but there she was - and I still had gas in the tank. So I did.

2:29:30 for the run - and yeah, I had a negative split. What's wrong with this picture?

Total time: 7:14:56. You mean I finished? How the hell did I do that?

My time goal was to beat 7 hours, and I know where that 15 minutes went: I'm pretty sure I lost it to being well hydrated. I can't complain about that, I don't think I would have done as well as I did in the run without being well hydrated. Plus, I kinda cruised this race - racing wasn't really the main thought. I was, quite frankly, amazed to find myself running at all.

Clearly there is a big difference between running by myself with nobody but me for support, and having ice, water, gel, and gatorade available at every mile.

It's true what those M-dot people say: Anything is possible.