One Minute

I seem to be spending a lot of time digging up my history lately, and it's been interesting. This seems to be mainly because I'm doing a lot of the same races I've done previous years. On the one hand, re-playing history a good way to see if there is progress. Also, for nice courses, it's a nice way to enjoy territory I know I'll enjoy since I've already covered it.

On the not-so-plus side, if I do really well in a race one year, it can be a total ass-bite if I don't do as well when I go back.

Especially if I am PMSing. Or worrying about the crazy thing I signed up for in May of 2010: Ironman Utah. Did I mention I'm signed up for Ironman Utah? Have you seen the course profile for that thing?

Ahem. I get ahead of myself. I do that sometimes...I project a little. I get excited. Ask my coach - he'll tell you that I will sometimes call him and ask about signing up for races two years from now - can we build up to that coach? Can we plan for that? Can we?

So.

I bailed on Big Sur so that I could be ready for May's lineup of craziness, which includes:
Run for the Zoo
Jay Benson (sprint Tri on Mother's Day),
Jemez Mountain Trail Run Half Mary, followed immediately (the next day) by
Santa Fe Century - and, the following week -
Iron Horse Bicycle Classic.

Yee haw!

Run for the Zoo was a nice warmup, and as I said before, I was a whole minute slower than last year. History of results:

2007 time: 55:58
2008 time: 56:10
2009 time: 57:37

I wasn't trying, I was still recovering from Bronchitis, had the foot off the gas. I thought this was a pretty good sign.

Jay Benson weekend I was supposed to race with my mother, but she crashed her bike a couple weeks ago and was still recovering. That's right, my mother is a total badass. She wrecked her bike. She skidded down a major road like a hockey puck and bloodied all her pointy parts in the process. She's covered in owies and booboos, and she's still training - undeterred - but it was the pain in her ribs that convinced her that racing on mother's day wasn't in the cards. Poor mom. I consoled her by reminding her of various motorcycles she wrecked I was a kid, and I knew that this little bike mishap for her (even at 61) was no big deal -- relatively speaking.

I went to Jay Benson anyway - nervous as hell. This race always makes me nervous, and I think it's because it was my first triathlon ever. I still get residual jitters when I do this because I had so much invested in my first time. This race is a reverse sprint, and I know it well, since I've done it 3 times. Here is the history download:

First year's splits:

Total   Run     Pace   T1      Bike    Mph   T2      Swim
 1:21:52   25:11  8:24    1:38   41:14  18.1    2:03   11:48       

Second year's splits - woo progress!

Total   Run     Pace   T1      Bike    Mph   T2      Swim    
1:18:35   26:37  8:53    1:35   38:16  19.5    1:59   10:10

Last year's splits - WOO!!

Total   Run     Pace   T1      Bike    Mph   T2      Swim 
1:15:53.35   26:00  8:40  1:41  36:27  20.5    2:02    9:46 

Given my history with this race and my level of training over the winter, I was planning to see more progress this year. I saw some progress, but not what I hoped:

Total       Run     Pace   T1      Bike    Mph   T2      Swim
1:16:46.95   26:23  8:48    1:46   36:26  20.5    2:03   10:11  

Oof.

I consoled myself with the following facts:
1) I did move up a couple places in my new age group, in spite of losing about a minute. I finished 7th in my AG in a race where some really serious women show up to race, and that's pretty cool.

2) I maintained my stupendous bike split from last year, with what felt like slightly less effort. Having said that, I do recall rolling into transition, coming off the bike and momentarily losing use of my legs, but no matter...

3) There is no polite way to put it: the swim was a complete clusterfuck. In my anaerobic state, I got into the pool and immediately swam into someone who was breast stroking. Do you know how hard it is to get past a breast stroker who is frog kicking in the WHOLE LANE when you're anaerobic? It's hard. I also had to manoever around groups of hangers-on at the ends of lanes. So I'm pretty sure I know where my lost swim time went.

It's one race, it's no big deal. Bygones.

My next race weekend would be a serious test, and I knew it was coming. I remember last year's Jemez/SFC combo being a real killer, so I was mentally ready for this. You know if you do a thing once, you can do it again and that's it- you've beat it. Most of the battle is won if you want to do it again.

Jemez Mountain Trail run half mary is freakishly difficult. I can not sugar coat or overstate this one - it's crazy hard. They call it a 20K, they call it a half mary, it's neither. I'm not entirely sure it's the 13.6 miles that Garmin says it is. If the Napa Valley Trail Half Marathon shows up on Garmin as a little over 10 miles, what sort of error do you suppose it would give me for another half mary on equally bizarre terrain? For argument's sake, we'll say it's 13.6 miles - it's over 1700 feet of climbing in the first half, followed by giving all the elevation back in the second half. The profile is here.

I remember last year's race being really bruising - I remember finishing and feeling so totally wasted that I just wanted to sit down for the rest of the week. My feet felt bruised and battered, my legs were toast.

My spouse, my crazy friends Flamin' Mo, Amy, Ken and Maria and Jean and a few other insane friends were signed up for the 50K race at Jemez, and a number of fellow outlaws were signed up for the half mary. I was really tempted to do the same 50K/SFC combo, but none of my crazy friends who were doing that combo were also signed up for Iron Horse the following weekend. My insanity would have to be measured.

Because last year's time was so long for a half-mary, I really believed that this year I would be hacking a large chunk off the time. I mean, seriously - why would running 13.6 miles take over 3 hours? I've done a 50K, I can do this.

I ran comfortably the whole race. I felt great, I pushed as hard as I felt I could without blowing up, and hiked the major incline sections. I found myself at the crest of Guaje ridge at 1 hr 30 minutes, grabbed a couple of gummy worms, and started the downhill trot. I'm sure mom would advise against eating worms while running, but these are gummy worms and I neeeed them.

I got this, I thought. I am making good time. I feel good. It seemed to take forever, again. The back half of the course never seemed to get shorter - and it was still crazy difficult on the back half. I found my running legs totally uncooperative, my energy was drained.

And then I was done.

Last year's time: 3:18:05
This year's time: 3:19:38

What. The Hell?!

This time, I had no consolation. I felt a little less beat up than had the last time I did it, and for what? A minute of loss. Over a minute! I sat down and I couldn't help it - I cried. I really really wanted to go sub-3, and there was just no way. It wasn't there. If anything, I had just proved to myself that this race had beat me. How can I train my ass off for a year, do an Ironman, do a 50K, and not see improvement in my speed for a stupid half marathon? Where's the progress? How frustrating!

Spouse didn't fare much better - though he managed not to get lost this year, and finished alive and in one piece.

We went home and I got ready for the Santa Fe Century, which I confess I was not entirely looking forward to. Last year, SFC was my first Century ever, and I have a keen memory of feeling pretty completely shelled during the last 10 miles. I remember everything hurt, and I remember it was just...hard. But I did it and my sense of accomplishment sort of negated all the pain memory for a long time.

Until last Sunday. Once you do a thing, you know you can do it again.

I had set myself up to ride in a group with my other crazy friends who had done the Jemez trail run, and told all my friends who had done the 50K that I would happily ride with them, since I knew that all of us would probably feel a little on the not-so-speedy side. It wasn't long until I was riding with 3 others who had done the 50K and one fresh non-runner. Our little group wasn't fast, but I could tell pretty quickly that this year's ride was entirely different from last year's ride. Not only was I not hurting, I was actually feeling pretty good. For running a very bruising trail race the previous day, I was actually doing well: I wasn't praying for death, nothing was sore, and I still had enough climbing power to make it up Heartbreak Hill feeling relatively strong, and without stopping or walking.

Oh. I guess that's where my progress is.

That's pretty big.

Last year's rolling time: 6hrs 40 something
This year's rolling time: 6 hrs 30 something

Start and end times, and rest times, were roughly the same. In this case, the time is only partly relevant. I was taking care of a group and riding at their pace, but I felt better. Way better.

Hm. Maybe my little Jemez breakdown was PMS related...

It could be that as I've gone longer over the past year, I've gotten slower. If that's the case, I'm OK with trading a little speed for a lot of distance. I would love it if I could go longer and get faster, but I think I have to keep training for longer to see that kind of progress.

On the other hand, they tell me the trick to getting faster is to just go faster. That makes a certain amount of sense - I train at a certain speed, my muscle memory works great at that speed, and when I'm going long, I have to slow down. I hope that my speed may pick up as I feel better going longer. And I'm definitely feeling better.

I guess I am making progress after all.

Next up: Iron Horse...that deserves its own post.