You want me to swallow what? GU?

Sometime between the 4^th of July and my next race (if it can be called that- the Salt Lake Pioneer Day 5k, which had no timing, no real finish line, and a lame medal), I decided I was ready for the next level.  Maybe it was watching Kermit at a triathlon and being amazed that someone could swim 1.5 miles, bike 40k and run 10k and be fine the rest of the day.  Or maybe it was my insatiable desire to learn something new.  A year ago, if you would have asked me if I’d ever want to run a 10k, I would’ve said, you’re crazy.  Running 3 miles was hard enough- I couldn’t imagine going for 6 miles without keeling over dead.

But now, that’s all changed.  I don’t remember exactly how the thought got planted in my head.  Although seeing all the flyers made me think it might be fun.  Perhaps it was encouragement from Kermit.  But, I decided to start training for a half marathon.  Yeah, 13 miles is a leap from 3, it’s true.  But when Kermit offered to help me start training, I couldn’t resist- spending extra time with him?  Sign me up!

We decided on the Provo Halloween Half, the Saturday before Halloween.  Everyone has told me to train carefully for it, because it’s all downhill-down through Provo Canyon. That might sound easy, especially for someone’s first half-marathon.  But, it’s supposedly killer on your knees if you don’t train right.

In the spirit of training, and quenching my appetite to learn a new language in the world of running and triathlons, I delved into picking up all the lingo.  Near the end of July, we hiked Timp, a 7.75 mile hike one-way and you hit 11,783 feet at the summit.  That’s an altitude gain of about 4,652 feet.  Because there was so much time to talk, and because I was starting to absorb all the new words I was hearing between Kermit and all his triathlon friends, I tried deciphering all their meanings.  Because I couldn’t always pick up on definitions from context clues- you know, that trick your elementary school teacher taught you to try and figure out what all the big words the adults were using really meant- I started making up my own definitions.  Here are some of them:

Chamois Crème-(those special lubricants for your undercarriage)- some type of substance in a cream, gel, or spray, often very messy to apply (with often no place to wipe your hand on after application), which helps prevent super-uncomfortable owies in your nether-regions.  You may need to cowboy up and overcome those fears of sticking your hand down your pants (in front of everyone) right before a race if you forgot to apply it at 5am, still half asleep.

Tri- a shortened form of triathlon used before anything related to the sport, as in tri-tats, tri-gear, tri-bike, tri-training, tri-geek (one who is obsessed with triathlons and all the gear involved), etc.  Adds a certain level of prestige to anything having tri- before it.  Example- “My tri-bike is so much cooler than yours because I can ride in aero position.”

Aero handlebars/position- this is so much easier to show than explain. But I’m still learning the advantages of riding in aero position.  I assume it’s so you can take a little nap on long, flat courses… watch out for that cow!!! *crash*

Regular road bike handle bars:

Tri-bike handle bars: 

T1- Transition 1, an area of mass mayhem where $3000+ bikes are hanging precariously from wobbly metal pipes.  Meanwhile, hundreds of athletes are slipping and sliding around after coming out of the swim, trying to get out of their wetsuits, remember which isle their bike is down, suck down some nutrition, change into bike gear, get their bike off the rack, and head off.  All while not falling into the other athletes (or their bikes).   

Clip pedals- A device similar to a Chinese finger trap, which sucks in your $400 bike shoes.  The harder you try to pull your feet off as you head to T2 (definition of this below), the less likely you are to succeed.  Hence the number of triathletes who wind up barefoot at the dismount area, dragging those $400 shoes on the ground.

T2- Transition 2, while not as chaotic as T1, is nonetheless a place of mass fury.  Filled with the clip clop of people who managed to get their special shoes out of the clip pedals running down the isle with their bike, once again trying to remember which isle to go down.  You can often observe athletes throwing their bikes back onto the rickety pipes, ripping off their bike shoes, sliding into running shoes, sucking down more nutrition, and taking off for the final stretch of the race.  All while trying to avoid getting run over by bikers, and searching for their friends/family for a little encouragement for the home stretch when they are ready to jump in the hot tub already.  Unfortunately, they went whizzing by so fast on their bikes coming into T2 that their supporters couldn’t get down there in time to cheer them on into the run portion.

Notice how this is TRI-Berry

Nutrition- This is probably my favorite one so far that I’ve learned.  Remember my earlier post about my fear of food and my temperamental stomach?  When I first heard the word nutrition plan flying around, I assumed that meant snacking on some fruit, chugging Gatorade, maybe even throwing back some nuts or something.  Little did I know… nutrition consists of a vast variety of powders, gel-like substances, mini shot-bottles of some sort of pure energy semi-liquids, blocks (supercharged fruit snacks), and something called energy beans (they want you to think you’re eating jelly beans instead of energy boosts).  The first time Kermit said he’d start me on GU’s when we were running 6 miles or more, I said, you want me to do what?!  Even the name implies fear of the thing which you are about to ingest.  GU’s and gels most often taste like something you wouldn’t feed the dog and are so thick I’m amazed anyone can swallow it while trying to navigate through a transition.  Having said all this, I’m told you get used to it, and if you time your nutrition right, it can make the difference between sprinting across the finish line and stumbling- making embarrassingly wimpy or in-pain faces for the camera (and boy have I done that!).  I have to admit my first gel experience wasn’t so bad- the taste was okay and if I drank enough water afterwards, I could wash down the thick sticky stuff.

Special Needs- At first, I thought this was a special station for those with physical limitations to pick up replacement parts or other special things they need that the other athletes don’t need.  However, I learned that by the time you get to mile 14 during the run portion of a full Ironman, everyone could be called a “special needs” individual.  From hallucinations, slower brain processing speed (Mandy, how many minutes are in an hour?  How many?! 60?  Okay, what is 40 minus 60?!), hobbling with blisters, losing the ability to sweat, looking like one of the many EMT’s need to check your blood alcohol level, and many other maladies, everyone needs an extra special treat to get them through the back stretch.

Finisher medals- Having seen Kermit’s extensive collection of medals hanging from two walls in his house from more than three years of countless races, I quickly learned what really makes a great race- the finisher’s medal.  They come in all shapes, sizes and colors.  The bigger, more colorful, and unique, the better.  Using the same medal design two years in a row, but with a different year imprinted, or simply slapping a sticker on a piece of metal is unacceptable in the eyes of a runner or triathlete.  The worst thing about watching the last group finishing a poorly planned race?  Watching a bunch of stumbling, sweaty bodies fight over the last medal.  Gross.

T-shirts- almost as important as the finisher medals, I have heard people say they didn’t want to run a particular race because the shirt was cotton rather than tech (one of those fancy ones that instantly wicks sweat off your skin, helping prevent the need for Chamois Crème in areas above the waist).  Again, after seeing boxes and boxes of Kermit’s old race shirts, it’s something athletes hang onto for years… and years… and years.  So they better be good quality.

Training- a varying amount of time spent out in the blistering sun, pelting rain or howling wind running for miles on end, biking to the ends of the earth, or swimming to the ocean on the opposite side of the continent.  A training schedule varies from day to day, switching up distance, pacing and rest days in such a manner that people unfamiliar with a training program get lost trying to keep straight.  This also means very early mornings, working out during lunch breaks, and/or late nights, trying to fit it all in amongst work, family, and little things like fixing the leaking pipe that’s been dripping since last winter.  For family and friends, this means giving a lot of love and support to the athlete, hoping they appreciate the support as much as the athlete hopes the non-athlete appreciates all the sacrifices they are making to reach their dreams.  Do you really think they like spending an entire Saturday sweating all day, trying to avoid copious amounts of chaffing and downing thick nasty liquids when they could be playing with their kids or relaxing with their significant other? 

Case in point- the Iron Cowboy, who will be completing 30 Ironman races by the end of this year-all in a 12 month period.  I had the pleasure of meeting and getting to know him at Ironman KY.  Not only was I amazed at his great attitude and down-to-earth friendliness, but the support his wife and 5 kids give him week after week amazed me.  If that’s not love and support, I don’t know what is.  

And this is the real reason why I decided to up my game- if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!  What better way to get to know someone, build a relationship with someone, then to train with them?  I couldn’t let Kermit have all the fun!  Really, though, there is a lot more to it than that, which I’ll talk about in another post- as well as tell you just how high I decided to set my goals.