Nobody TRI's Alone!

 Nobody TRI's alone!

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Whew! I'm glad the support team could talk for a while (I was pretty beat)! But so far it's been the anthropomorphized equipment that I whimsically name. Now it's time to talk about the important thing: the people who support those of us who "event". 

These kinds of events don't happen without a lot of support. I wrote about it from the perspective of the volunteers and organizers that make the Lincoln Marathon work in an earlier blog. Similar people support a touring race series like the Rev3 and IronMan ones. They have paid staff, but they also rely on local volunteers. It is how I ended up being able to hang ON2VICTORY's finish medal around his neck last year. 

When we got to the check in early, one of the staffers was driving a golf cart out and he stopped to greet us. He introduced himself (Bob), obviously a strong extrovert. We swapped stories, of what my motivation for the TRI was (see blogs about "For whom the race is run" from last week... here's the first link: 

and here it breaks because the Spark blog it would have linked to won't be there after August 17th, 2021). 

Then he rolled up his sleeve to show his Boston Strong tattoo, and proceeded to share his story. What an amazing man! Of course I became immediately jealous in that he not only had met Sister Madonna Buda, but had a photo taken with her... and then we had to take a photo of the two of us... showing his Boston Strong tattoo and my hero bracelet! 

Behind the camera was my "Sherpa", ALICIA363, but I got her out in front of the camera a little while later at one of those event photo booths. She quipped that her eyes were shut, but look at those grins! 

More about the Ace later, back to Bob. He made a point at check in of introducing me to some of the other staff, and after I'd mentioned my anxiety over the cut off times he promised they'd look out for me on the course and make sure I finished. The important thing, he advised, was to just go out there and have fun.

Then he wrote the number 467 and 1908 (the reserve units on my hero bracelet) on HIS ARM, and intoned that if I started to flag on the course, he'd show this to me to remind me why I was doing this. And on Sunday, while Brenda and I were out on the highway, he was driving one of the trucks. He shut off the engine so I could hear him shout "There's my buddy! Looking good!" as we rode by. Like I said, what a guy.

I didn't get a photo of the volunteer who checked me in, but she remembered me and after I crossed the finish line she made a point to congratulate me and say she had checked me in the day before.  In short the staff and volunteers of this organization are over the top. If you're looking for a race and ready for a "destination" one in a resort area... I can recommend this series. Very supportive!

I could not resist the temptation to mention as I accepted my award goodies for first (and only) in my age/gender group, that I had been wearing one of those yellow volunteer shirts last year. The announcer picked up on that and challenged the volunteers that I was talking smack.

Now let's talk about the Ace, my kid sis and on this trip, "Sherpa". I picked up that term from a fellow triathlete on the FB group I joined who was seeking someone to companion her to Nationals this year in August. But it makes sense. The Sherpa carries gear, gives advice, etc. for mountain climbers. That's a lot of what she did for me this trip.

Here is part of what she did:

As the mom of a daughter who used to love the temporary tattoos when she was younger, Ace has the skill set down. Those temp tats are holding up really well. In fact, I went for a recovery swim yesterday and felt slightly self-conscious as I'm still very well marked! Yes, they gave us suggestions for how to take them off, but I'm willing to let them gradually go away over multiple showers, instead of using packing tape (ouch).

Ace also made sure I got some movement in on Friday (the jockey and the racehorse blog talks about that). She shouted from outside transition to remind me that I hadn't put my glasses on in transition from swim to bike (since I swim blind, this is a common error at the gym... find out I forgot the glasses only when I get to the lobby and things look blurry). She made sure I was eating enough, pre- and post-race.

In short, I could not have done this without her. They don't let anybody into the transition area except the wrist-band labeled athletes, so she posed as Kilroy to make me laugh:

And that was the whole point of THIS blog. Nobody can be an athlete and participate in this kind of thing without a support team. As Diana Nyad said coming out of the water last year: it may look like an individual sport, but it takes a team. 

So if you ARE out there training for something like this, remember to thank your friends, family, boss, whoever is supporting your efforts.  For my team, which by the way, includes my Spark friends: THANK YOU! I'm living my dreams, with help from my friends!

LIFE if good. It's better when I'm fit. It is at its best with kindred spirits along the same or parallel paths.  Consistently, consciously, creatively making choices that support long-term health, I remain GRATEFUL, for each... and every day!

Your turn Eliza

Your Turn, Eliza

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

  Ah-hem. How do you do? I am Eliza Doolittle, sometimes called "the Sleek". I am a blueseventy Sprint triathlon wetsuit, and I am a professional. I do not often speak up, but my ebullient team-mate, Brenda Starr Trek blogged yesterday and insisted that I tell the tale of June 22nd from my own point of view.

Let me tell you, from my perspective, triathlon is no big deal. It is my job. Triathlon wetsuits are trained to protect our humans, providing buoyancy and warmth as they swim in open waters that are sometimes cold and always deeper than the pools that most of them train in.

I am fresh from the factory, but I have been well prepared. I have learned from generations of wetsuits before me what I need to do. Since I was prepared to serve a female, my contours are appropriate, and I am somewhat stylish.

Barb, the human I serve and mentor, packed me with respect, in a large beach towel for the trip up, and hung me with care, so as not to damage my neoprene essence. I rode in a suitcase, and hung in a hotel closet while waiting to just go out and do my job.

I was called upon twice during this weekend. The first time was the practice swim on Saturday. I viewed my job that day as to calm Barb's jitters, and show her just how workmanlike a team we could be on race day.

I must say that the event organizers did a fine job of setting up the practice course to simulate actual race day conditions. They had the swimmers enter the water at the same place they would on race day, swim around buoys similar to the ones that would be in place the next morning, and exit the water at the same place they would as well.

Barb followed my calming directions well for the practice, swimming for about 20 minutes. She then treated me with the appropriate respect and rinsed me off in the hotel shower and gave me room on the bar over the tub to air out and dry in time for Sunday's big event.

On Sunday morning, I was first up. I was carried on Barb's shoulder down to the transition area, where Brenda was waiting. I kept right with Barb as she organized her biking shoes, running gear, hydration packs and nutrition packets around Brenda's tires. I kept reassuring her of how well we had done the day before in practice, and that this would be the start of a great day.

It seemed like she might be pressing the time limits when she finally started to put me on. I should not say, but it takes this Barb person a while to learn: this time she tried using the plastic grocery bag over each foot and hand in slipping me on, not just the body glide that she'd used for the practice swim.

Much easier to get onto her legs and arms that way. But the adjusting and getting fully onto a human body takes cooperation of suit and human. It just takes time. The humans were all muttering and talking as they complained about this process. But it just *does* take time. And it is important to be properly positioned so that the human inside can move freely in the water. I do MY job, Barb has to do HERS.

Then it was time to line up and wait for our place at the start. It was a time trial start, which means they had the swimmers enter the water two by two. When Barb's turn came, she was beside a woman named JoAnn. They wished each other well, sat on the dock, and started.

The actual swim, for me, was very businesslike. I did my job, Barb did hers. Although, I do have to mention, Barb is pretty much blind in the water. She wears prescription glasses, not contacts, and her goggles are STILL not the prescription variety. She got into a rhythm with her strokes, and although she is on the blind end of the spectrum, there were enough other swimmers, and the buoys were HUGE... she could find her target and correct her tendency to drift to the right.

Once, in the water, while Barb was blindly stroking, her hand actually came down on the back of another swimmer. She apologized, and swam on. She expressed amazement that she had managed to pass someone in the water. She knows she is not the fastest swimmer, but this was a confidence builder for her to know that she also was not the slowest that day.

We were out there for 51 minutes and 8 seconds, before climbing out onto the timing mats. The official distance was 1500 meters. This was a very good pace for Barb and set her up to have the time to take me off and get the things done she needed to do to transition to Brenda's leg of the equipment relay they call triathlon. I was left on the ground, folded in a towel, while Brenda went off with Barb on her adventure, which she shared with you yesterday.

As I said from the start: I am a professional. I did my job. I reassured my human that she could do this.

Today, I'm back hanging in Barb's closet, dried off, in dark and cool, on a very wide hanger, to preserve me. She treats me with the respect I deserve, and as long as she maintains her figure, we can be a fine team in these kinds of events.

Now, if you don't mind, I'll go back into the shadows. I don't think this blogging thing is quite my style. Oh, but I will share a photo of Barb and me, from after the warm up on Sunday and shortly before the race start.

Brenda's TRI

Brenda's TRI

Monday, June 23, 2014

Remember me? I'm Brenda Starr Trek, Barb's fitness hybrid bicycle. She took me on a great adventure this weekend. The first part of it was miserable. She put me in a rack on the back of Dexter (my teammate, her car), and I was the rider, on the highways and byways all the way to Wisconsin.

It rained on me, but at every rest stop she would come back and tell me what a good little bike I was, and check to make sure the rack was secure. Some of those rain storms were scary.

When we got there, it had cleared off enough that she could unload me, and she took me INSIDE the hotel. I rode in an elevator! And sat in her room. Then on Saturday, she wheeled me back down and took me to a field where OTHER bicycles were being left, and covered my seat with a plastic bag and left me all alone overnight!

I'm the one with the white plastic bag over my seat, and the little headlight. The bag blew off overnight and my seat had a puddle on it when she came back in the morning, bringing my other team-mate, Eliza the Sleek wetsuit over her shoulder, and all her equipment in bags. She wheeled me over to the mechanics' tent, where they pumped up my tires and put new lube on my chain, since I'd been riding out in the rain the days leading up to the race.

I knew I had my work cut out for me, as Barb kept giving me soothing words. "We're going for a nice, long, Sunday ride, Brenda." Then she left me alone for a while again.

When she came back, she was in a bit of a hurry. She was half out of Eliza, and dripping wet. Eliza was discarded, and Barb put on the shoes with the clips, a shirt with a number on it (the same one she had marked ME with), slipped on the camelback water supply, and ate a Gu. She took the empty packet over to the trash can, and came back, slipped me out and we were on our way to the "Bike out" sign, when her sister Alicia hollered: "GLASSES!" So I had to stop while she went back and put on her prescription sunglasses. I don't think would have survived the day if she didn't go back for them!

Then she stopped me again while she went and used a porta-pot... and we were OFF! What a great day for a ride! We rode over much more interesting roads than I usually get to see. There were hills and curves. There was shade and sun. We were IMPORTANT, because there were police men and women holding back traffic so that WE could go across the highways and turn left at various places.

Barb kept muttering things about "an hour and a half to get back to transition" as she pedaled. She used almost every one of my gears going up and down those hills. She rode with those shoes clipped in until the last mile when we were getting close to the end. Then whoosh, with a triumphant dismount, we were BACK, and she left me alone again.

It was a couple of hours later before Barb came back to get me out of the rack. She was smiling and wearing little bits of metal with paint on them.

She was congratulating the other people who left their bikes around me and were back retrieving them. Some of them had those bits of metal too. Everyone was very happy.

I think I like doing this. I hope she takes me again sometime. But even if we don't do one like this, I know we'll have plenty of rides together. But first, I have to take a ride on the back of Dexter so we can get home.

All you other bikes out there, I hope you are being ridden and loved, too.

For Whom The Race is Run

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

I've quipped before that I run because I can. I run for those who cannot.

Each time I go out, I do better when I fix in my mind specific people for whom I am racing. I have several groups, and the list grows. This is part 1, because I will likely add more as I go on. This one is about the event that really put a burr under my behind to GET fit again, because life is short and precious.

13 of those who cannot do this for themselves are names with faces that are burned in my memory for very personal reasons. You see, they are people who lost their lives on November 5, 2009, at Fort Hood, Texas. My son was there, but not in the room, by the simple fact that he had given up his place in line to one of his squad while he went to get his eyes checked.

That day he lost five people who trained with him. Our nation lost 13 of the 1% who choose to serve.

Another 32 of these extraordinary people were wounded.

The TRI in Wisconsin is set in my mind as particularly in honor of the members of the 467th and 1908th MED DET CSC units of the US Army Reserve. One specific name I want to invoke, because she was part of the 467th (based in Wisconsin), and because it was her spare stripe that was pinned on my son at his promotion to SGT. Her name was SSG Amy Krueger. She was young, idealistic, proud to serve... and ready to deploy. She never made it off shore.

I will be racing in her home state, and that of Capt. Russell Seager. In honor and memory, I dedicate this effort to the fallen from that day. Never forget. This is the list of the fallen, as it originally was published.

• Michael Grant Cahill
• Maj. Libardo Eduardo Caraveo
• SSG Justin M. DeCrow
• Capt. John Gaffaney
• Spc. Frederick Greene
• SSG Amy Krueger (Kiel, WI)
• Pfc. Aaron Thomas Nemelka
• Spc. Jason Dean Hunt
• Pfc. Michael Pearson
• Capt. Russel Seager (Racine, WI)
• Pvt. Francheska Velez
• Col Juanita Warman
• Pfc. Kham Xiong

LIFE is good. Prize it, every day. It's better when I maintain my body in a way that means I have the choice to be a force to help, rather than a victim of circumstance. That means fit. It is at its best when kindred spirits are along on the journey. Consciously, consistently, and creatively making choices that support this, I remain GRATEFUL for each and every day.