Humbling Conversation

While I was at the doctor for my shoulder, I took the opportunity to ask him about training with a heart rate monitor. It's such a new thing for me I need all the advice I can get.

I knew he was a runner - a marathoner, in fact - and since he's been my doctor for 9 years I figured he'd probably be able to give me solid advice that took my questionable medical status into consideration.

He's one of those unassuming guys that exudes a quiet confidence. He's tall and thin, nothing special to look at physically, but he's one of those guys that, once you learn they're an endurance athlete you're not surprised. It just kind of explains the thing you couldn't put your finger on, the thing that makes you like them even more than you already did.

Like I said, I knew he was a runner, and earlier this year I learned that his personal goal is a 3:30 marathon; he was disappointed with a 3:40-something performance last year. That sounded crazy fast to me, but I didn't think much about it other than thinking it was nice to have an idea of what kind of a runner he is.

He talks to me about running with enthusiasm and no condescension whatsoever. He makes me feel like I'm a Runner too, and it's easy to forget where he's at compared to me. Yesterday, to illustrate our conversation about heart rate training, he gave me some concrete numbers of his so I could understand more clearly the huge differences and why it's such a personalized training tactic.

Even though I truly am content to be a back of the packer, even though I'm honestly happy with just showing up and finishing considering my health, and even though I don't care one bit about winning races... while he talked I could feel myself slipping into humilation. Here I was, struggling to maintain a 13:00 pace, and he was telling me about how he was really frustrated with his performance in the Shamrock Shuffle because he only managed 6:45 miles (as opposed to his standard 6:30). But, he told me, he'd been injured so he didn't beat himself up about it (actually, that part of the conversation was about my injured shoulder and not expecting a great race performance in 10 days).

He said more than once that I need to not think about other people's times. Especially when they're someone like him - who, it turns out, is a top-ten age-grouper in the Chicago area, and has been a serious runner for probably longer than I've been alive. And I know he's right, but it's still tough sometimes to realize there are people running more than twice as fast as me who still think they're slow.

He was teasing me - said I needed to not be so competitive. I laughed and said I don't have a competitive bone in my body, but he said "oh yes you do!" Then he grinned, and it seemed he took real joy in explaining to me that now that I'm starting to see improvement, I'm becoming competitive with myself.

Can't argue with that one.

I was both both awed and humbled by what I learned in that conversation. And definitely inspired to keep working at it.

Got Off Easy

Doctor says supraspinatus tendonitis with possible impingement.

I have to take Naprosyn twice a day and lay off swimming for a week. Thankfully I'm still allowed to bike and run, although he said to avoid the aero position until it's healed.

After a week of rest and anti-inflammatories he said I can go for an easy 200-300 yard test swim and see how it feels. No pain, I'm allowed to do a 400 yard test swim. No pain after that, I'm allowed to race. If it's a problem, I need to abort and he'll write me a medical excuse to defer the race entry.

After I limp through the races I have to ease back into swimming. No sprint repeats for a while!

Time Out

Friday morning my shoulder started hurting. By Friday night I couldn't even reach for a glass without fairly significant pain. Getting undressed for bed was a real bitch - ever tried to unhook a bra with one arm? At the time, the idea of getting in a swim workout anytime soon was comical.

I happened to be visiting back home, and my dad and Grandma, who've both had rotator cuff tears, insisted the location and nature of the pain I was describing was exactly that. I was wigging out, but held out hope because the intensity of the pain my dad described was far beyond the pain I was feeling. This is a 59 year old farmer that doesn't bat an eye when he accidentally takes a chunk out of his leg with a chainsaw (true story). So when he said he was screaming from the shoulder pain, um... yeah. Freaked me out. But my pain was more of in the range of 'intense muscle ache with a hint of sharpness'.

My biggest concern wasn't the possibility of a painful surgery and even more painful recovery, my biggest concern were my 2 races in the next 4 weeks. I started hoping that rotator cuff surgery is a good enough reason for the medical deferrment clauses some races allow those non-refundable entry fees to be used next year.

By the time I went to bed Friday night it took an ice pack and 600 mg of Ibuprofen to get me to where I could sleep. I kept telling myself it couldn't be a tear because I haven't done anything the day before to hurt it. Weight lifting two days prior went fine. Hadn't been swimming in 5 days. Maybe I just slept on it funny.

Saturday I was very cautious with it, still hurt to get dressed or do something like reach for the radio in the van (driving home for 4 hours), but pain was noticeably improved.

Woke up this morning and it's still sore but the worst of it is gone; now that I can move it without too much pain I noticed fancy new sound effects thing happening when I move it. Definitely cancelling the open water swim I'd planned for this afternoon and calling the doctor in the morning.

Respect and Fear

I admit it. I've been cavalier about preparing for my sprints this year. And now I'm afraid of what that's going to mean when I line up at the start in 2 weeks.

I had it easy last year. Brand new freelance business, not a lot of work, lots and lots of free time to train. It was routine for me to indulge in a 2-3 hour training session in the middle of the day if I didn't have a project going. Because of that freedom, I went into my races feeling as prepared as I could be.

But as my business continues to grow, I'm finding it tougher to juggle the demands of training and housework and actual work. Tougher still to handle the extra responsibilities of owning a business - Chamber chairmanships, self-promotion, accounting, updating my website... there are times I work all day and never make a dime because I don't get paid to work for my own business.

Still haven't perfected this juggling act some of you make look so easy, and I can also admit I still waste more time than I should. At the moment if any one thing is getting enough attention then by default the others are suffering. I realize everybody else does it every single day, and I'm not asking for sympathy. I realize I need to suck it up and work it out, and that I had it incredibly easy last year.

Because little things like my car payment aren't going away any time soon, and my husband only puts up me ordering take-out for so many nights in a row (he does dishes and laundry and vaccuums, so it's not like he's being unreasonable), the thing that's suffered the most is my training. Somehow, gradually, I've cut down from 6-8 workouts a week to 4-5.

And I let that happen because I haven't respected the distance. I know I haven't. Even as I have the thoughts - I know I can do this, I did it last year - I catch it and remind myself that I did double the training last year and that I may very well blow it this time around.

I'm starting to fear it. And I don't want to be afraid of it; triathlon is my life's blood, my passion, the place I find joy. How can I have any fun if I'm afraid of it?

I've already made peace with the absolute certainty that I will not make my holy grail goal time of under 2 hours. But thanks to the wisdom of my fellow bloggers I did set tiered goals, and the way I'm performing right now there's a good chance I can still make my 2:15 goal. And if my body really needs to teach me a lesson about preparation and I don't even match last year's time, I can still fall back on my Back of the Packer philosophy: the finish line looks great no matter when you get there.

I can say I'm proud of myself. Not for undertraining or my temporary lapse of judgement or my unbelievable ability to waste time online... of those things I am properly ashamed. But when it got tough, things may have slipped a bit but I didn't give anything up. I've seen it happen, seen friends tri until time got tight, then it was the first thing to go. I could have dropped it but I didn't. My resolve only grew stronger to make it all fit, to be better and more efficient. And I'm proud of that, because the me I was a few years ago probably would have quit.

I've learned some things this season. About time management. About efficient training. About respecting the distance even if it's a familiar course. Now it's time to take those lessons and put them into practice.

Epiphany

Saturday's weather was glorious and after getting through my committments for the day I was thrilled to have just enough time to sneak in a brick workout before sunset.

I drove out to the country for my favorite peaceful ride full of rolling hills. I did 20K on the bike in 1:01, an easy 4 minute transition and then a 30 minute run-off.

This was the first time I wore my the heart rate monitor on the bike, and I got a rude awakening regarding my previous assumptions about my fitness levels in that event. Even when I felt comfortable my heart rate was spiking out of the zone, and even on the easy hills it was maxing out. I was tempted to ignore it because honestly, I feel fine, but a little voice in my head kept telling me to listen to the monitor and back off. Hence the slow time. For miles and miles the voices in my head argued about it, but I tried my best to do what the monitor said.

I felt like a disembodied voice was whispering urgently inside my mind, trying to tell me something in a language I was only starting to understand. The entire ride I pushed the voice away, not wanting to dwell on something I clearly wasn't ready to grasp yet.

It hit me around mile 9. Suddenly, like the whisper in my mind found a megaphone.

THIS IS WHY YOU CAN'T RUN OFF THE BIKE. THIS IS WHY YOU NEVER HAVE ANYTHING LEFT.

Holy. Shit. Disembodied Voice is right.

At that moment it was like all the pieces of the puzzle, all the things I'd read about - nutrition, glycogen reserves, heart rate zones, fat burning rates - came together into a coherent image and I saw the big picture. I'm burning up all my glycogen reserves on the bike because I'm spiking out of the target zone the whole ride. And that is why I bonk every stinkin' time I try to run off.

This will change my training forever. Even though, for now, it means my times are ridiculous slow, I couldn't happier because I get now that this is what's been holding me back.

After that I had the best run off a bike ever; for the first time it was only the setting sun putting limits on my ability to keep going.