Training for a Marathon v. Training for Triathlon

Misconception #4590 of the triathlon was that my running experiences and marathon training would somehow help me.


A lot of people have asked if I would be able to do a triathlon. My usual response is "Whatever, Mom. I did the marathon in November and I've run 11 half marathons. Yes I can do it! Gosh!" I mean, I knew how to follow a training plan, pushed my body to run 40 mile weeks, and eventually conquered the big 26.2. So how hard could learning to swim and ride a bike possibly be?"

Hard.

It's not hard as in algebra hard. It's hard as in trying to write with your opposite hand. I'm going through the motions but the outcome is not what I expected. It looks and feels like a big giant mess that only a crazy person would understand. Training for a triathlon requires a new level of balance, confidence, and determination.

Balance: I was able to train for 11 half marathons while working full-time, going to graduate school part-time, and enjoying a healthy social life. I even picked up an additional fitness goal in karate and was able to have a relationship too.Trying to find the time, energy,and  resources to handle running, swimming, cycling, and ninja classes has been a significant challenge.  The struggle to balance everything has cost me relationships, sanity, and lots of PTO hours at work. I was once able to handle graduate school, GOTR, career, running, ninja, and a relationship on schedule built like a Jenga game and the triathlon toppled it all.

Confidence: Triathlon training is like following a new recipe from complete scratch. I'm dealing with new ingredients and being told to mix them together in an unfamiliar and weird way. Am I running too much? Should I be swimming more? Why do I still smell like chlorine? Do I really need to bake this for 40 minutes? Why is this dough so wet? There are times when I just want to throw it all away and order pizza. 

Determination: When I was training for the marathon, I never ever wanted to quit. The thought of not finishing a long run or not ultimately achieving a goal that I had set and worked towards for three years never once crossed my mind. I had two years and many road races under my belt to bolster my confidence and squash any self-doubt about running. I had the experience and confidence to know that I was going to finish the marathon.
I want to quit the triathlon at least once a week. I've never done this before. I've never swam in open water. I've never biked on a road with other cyclists. I've never done transitions and wetsuits. And I just never know if I'm doing it right. It's frustrating. It's exhausting. It's demanding. I want to quit with ever failed flip turn in the pool. I want to quit every time my foot hurts or my wrist aches.  I want to quit when I come home to an empty apartment because my now ex-boyfriend couldn't handle it. I want to quit every time I step onto the mat at ninja and still don't know the stupid kata because I had to miss three weeks because of injury or training.

But I don't quit. And I won't. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because so many of my coworkers and friends are excited for me and watch me succeed? Maybe it's because I've had to chant "Courage, Self-Control, Perseverance, Indomitable Spirit" at the end ninja classes twice a week for almost two years. Maybe I'm just stubborn. Maybe I've just sacrificed too much and worked too hard to stop now. Maybe I'm just a masochist and enjoy the pain. Maybe I need to know that I can do it.


“Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”

― Shel Silverstein.

Lessons in Not Flying Off a Bike

We've discussed my lessons in not drowning, aka swimming. Lets move on to Lessons in Not Flying off a Lightweight Deathtrap while going very fast down a hill with lots of holes and obstacles.

Just like swimming, I approached biking with many misconceptions and naivety.
Yes, I knew how to ride a bike. I learned at a early age. It was a lot more fun at that early age. Kids ride bikes with reckless abandon. That same reckless abandon that terrifies parents and drivers. There are no speed limits. Helmets are lame but you have to wear them. It's fun and there is nothing more awesome than going downhill on bike. When you're a child....

When you're an adult, it's the cars on the road you're trying to share that apparently obey no speed limits. Helmets serve as the only line of defense between the pavement and your brain. In my opinion--there is nothing more terrifying than going downhill. My first experience with a decline  was in Tyler Park in Newtown. I've run in Tyler Park for three years and never EVER do I recall going downhill on foot. That park has served as a geographic anomaly to me because there were no downhills. I always assumed that if you go up a hill, you would eventually go down a hill. Unless you're in Tyler Park.

This is me running in Tyler Park. Repeat this scene over and over and over again and
you have my life for the past three years.

Until that windy day in early April when I took my pretty new bike to Tyler and learned that there are in fact downhills in Tyler Park. They simply only exist when one is going way too fast and cannot rely on their own devices to stop. Oh yes, Tyler has downhills. And I hate them. I can climb the hills fairly well. It's a good time. I grunt. I feel triumphant at the top. I sweat with pride. Then, I realize in this landscape of terror that is Tyler Park, there is no flat stretch to catch my breath or gather speed. I have reached the top of a hill which can only mean....

And this is me riding my bike in Tyler Park.  And counting the ways to wipe out.

I am not a praying person. I do not have any known crazy anxiety disorder. I maintain an acceptable amount of awareness of what I can and cannot control in this world. Until the moment when I have go down a hill on my bike. In the 30 seconds it will take me to reach the bottom, I will have said a full Rosary, imagined twelve difference scenarios of ways my body could be removed from the bike, and the 100 different injuries I could substain. I count seconds. I count trees. I count breaths. I count the moments it will be until I feel some resemblence of control and comfort on the two-wheels below me. I thank whomever invented helmets. I thank the people ahead for moving. I thank whatever powers that be for getting me down that damn hill. 

I've heard people call this freeing. I've heard it called liberating. I call it insanity. I internally freak out when I realize that I could have to face this same situation in the race and will be surronded by other cyclists. They will be going much faster than me. It adds another level of terror to this irrational reasoning. I may be the only person one two wheels who would prefer to go up hill. Please, challenge my quads. Make my thighs burn. I will take on the hill. I do not want to become part of the hill. 

I had to conquer my fear of public pools and speedos to learn swimming. Chlorine may dry out my skin, but it will never tear skin off like a road rash. Other people's germs will simply make me stink or a little sick. Other people's pets may cause me to crash.

Uphills and downhills  are an inevitable part of life. I cannot avoid either. I need to find a way to slow down and gain a sense of control on the downhill part. I'll be ok then.   And that is a pretty significant methaphor for life, my friends. And a really good time to wrap up this post.

Lessons in Not Drowning

Hey! Look. I have a blog. I totally forgot.

I didn't actually forget. I have been training for a triathlon.

I had a lot of misconceptions about swimming, biking, running, and the process of learning them all when I started on this adventure.

 I thought the hardest part of swimming would be appearing in public in a Speedo followed by getting into a public pool. False. The hardest part about swimming is almost everything. Swimming is not a pretty sport, nor is it easy. Forty minutes in the pool and I'm more sore, exhausted, and hungry than sixty minutes of running.

I have changed my definition from swimming to 'not drowning'.  A coworker recently asked if I had conquered the swim part yet. Conquered swimming? Never. I replied that I have conquered not drowning and am somewhat sure that I would make it out of the Hudson River unassisted. It's the best I can do right now. 

There is a lot of technique and skill involved with something that looks so easy. I also believed that my running and martial arts experiences would give me an edge when it comes to kicking and strength. False. No matter how many miles my legs can push forward on a run, it is a struggle to keep them moving in the water. There are many groups of muscles in the legs and those that are used for swimming are not neccesarily used for running. At least not in the same motions. Running muscles make for good running--not necessarily good swimming.

 I also have what my friend and coach, Laura, call 'marathoner's lungs'. I am used to getting air into my lungs whenever I want to. This is problem when swimming with your head in the water. (Unless you're an amphibion. Which I'm not--but my skin feels like it because chlorine is the anti-christ.) I panic when my breathing is messed up and it took me a few weeks to figure out that blowing bubbles = breathing.

 Despite all of the frustration and anxiety from swimming, I really am enjoying it. It is a full body workout that leaves you with a "I definitely worked out but am still able to function" feeling. Long runs take an hour or so to recover from and cycling is still a mystery to me.  I like just turning my mind of and focusing on counting laps and practicing new skills. The pool can be calming and quiet at times. Or a creeptastic adventure. I'm not confident YET in my ability to conquer an open water swim but at least I can outswim a 70 y/o dude with water weights and a comb-over asking me to lunch from the opposite end of the pool. I can also keep going long enough to let the weird guy who followed me in from the treadmills at sat at the top of my lane for 20 minutes that I'm not interested.

 *Lane rules should be followed like treadmill rules. Never take the lane immediately next to a person if another is available. Actual swimmers would argue this point and say the waves or turbulance create good resistance and speed. But I am not a swimmer; I am an unfriendly, trying-not-to-drown-er and need my space.

Learning to swim/not drown has been a very humbling experience--but in a very good way. I had become complacent with running, accepting a 10 minute-mile and justifying laziness. Swimming has reminded me why I once loved running so much. It's taking something you've never done before and never thought you could do and then actually doing it. It's about setting small goals and establishing milestones to achieve them.

 Every stroke, every lap, every breath, every accidental chlorine inhalation, is another step outside my comfort zone and another yard closer to accomplishment. I step out of the pool with arms that feel like Jello and a burning sensation down the back of my legs and a secret smile.

Tri-Atha-Linds-Thon

  It's been about two weeks since my 'luck' changed and I was thrown into the world of the triathlon. 

It has been interesting. Overwhelming. Annoying. Exciting. Terrifying. The 'lucky' ten ETS employees chosen were spotlighted on the company intranet for a few days. Results were mixed. I got lots of 'that's so cool, good luck!" A few "congratulations." A lot of the same quizzical look I usually get whenever I mention any of my athletic endeavors. My mom is very worried.


Swimming


 I finally conquered my fear of public pools and stepped foot into the pool area at my gym. It wasn't really the fear of the pool as much as it was the fear of being outside my comfort zone. I feel very confident in my running clothes and on a treadmill. However, squeezing into my new Speedo suit made me feel so awkward and exposed. When I entered the pool area, I had flashbacks to being the new girl in high school. I coped with being exposed and uncomfortable the same way as I did in high school. I made friends by babbling nervously to anyone who would listen. 
Pool people are much friendlier than treadmill people. I guess it's because on the 'mills everyone is face forward, headphones in, marching in a syncopated line towards nothing. In a pool, it's a little more casual. 


Swimming is not nearly as easy as it looks. It's actually really difficult and requires much more coordination and strength than I was expecting. I thought my arms and shoulders were alright from the sensei's love of push-ups and sit ups. My arms felt like Jell-o after only 20 minutes of laps. 


Swim caps do nothing to keep your hair dry. I foresee about five months of bad hair days in my future. 


Cycling


Cycling is expensive. My boyfriend and I have been 'bike shopping' and it's a lot like car shopping. Scott does most of the talking while I stare at the price tags. The sales guys politely laugh at my jokes and spew a lot of technical jargon at me. 
"So, you've got a carbon fiber fork here that will make for a stiffer ride. The nine-gear shifter is a shinto that will allow for a smooth transition. The frame is aluminium which is why the price is a littler higher." I've learned the importance of sizing, inseam, seat height, handle bars, and forks. 

There are even test drives! But road bikes do not come in automatic. We've visited four stores and I've taken three test rides. It's terrifying but fun. On Saturday we stopped by Guy's Bikes in Feasterville, Pa. This place was great. I took two bikes out for a ride and finally felt comfortable and not at the mercy of gravity or pot holes. I fell in love with two bikes and after Uncle Sam pays me for being an American citizen, I'll be ready to buy. 

I took a spin class at my gym last week too. Again, I was very outside of my comfort zone and turned on my chatty Linds side. I loved the class and was amazed that I hadn't tried it before. The hour-long class was intense and challenging but never did it feel impossible. I was sweaty and panting by the end and had covered 24 miles! There is a lot to learn about spin and cycling. I am really looking forward to the cycling portion of this adventure.


Running:


 I am worried about the two half marathons that I'm committed to before the triathlon. I went from maintaining a runner/ninja schedule. Monday and Wednesday evenings were 45 minutes of 'cross training' at the dojo. Tuesdays and Thursdays were tempo runs and speed work on the treadmills. Saturday mornings were sparring at the dojo followed by a 'long' run at the park. Sunday rest. I'm having trouble adding swimming and cycling into that mix. I'm in the 'learning' phase and need to nail down a schedule and plan as to avoid getting overwhelmed and hurt. My back is already revolting about this and I'm sure my knees will be soon too. 

Chances, Challenges, and Change

I never win anything. I enter drawings and sweepstakes all the time and all it every gets me a ton of junk mail and spam. I do not bother with state lotteries anymore because I am that confident that I will not win. I've never won an all-expense paid trip to the Bahamas. Or a car. Or a free dinner for two. Until last week, I had only ever won a blanket, a signed baseball bat, and one 50/50 drawing. (I donated the winnings back to the organization, too)

And, a free entry and registration to the 2012 NYC Triathalon.

In a pre-coffee haze a few weeks ago, I saw the headline Enter to Win a Free Entry to the NYC Triathalon. Because I never win anything and the article stated that only ten people would have their names drawn, I entered my name. Because I never win anyway, I did not worry about the two basic facts that I do not know how to swim and I do not own a bicycle. I went on my merry way and completely forgot that there was a slight chance that in the near future I would need to have access to pool, a bike, and a lot of free time.

In my ignorant bliss I cancelled my membership to LA Fitness. I signed up for two more half marathons and a fall marathon. I committed to coaching Girls on the Run in the spring. I'm learning numchucks in ninja without giving myself a serious concussion or getting Scott suspected of domestic abuse from the many, many bruises on my arms. I do not want for motivation or opportunity to exercise.

And then I got this:

Crap. Of course my office mate was gone for the afternoon and missed seeing me literally fall out of my rolling chair with shock. I DID NOT THINK I WOULD WIN.

I do not know how to swim. I have a slight phobia of public pools.

I do not own a bike nor have I ridden one since I was about fourteen.

Crap. What have I gotten myself into?

I thrive on change and challenge and have felt both missing from my life lately. Even with the shear terror of having to swim in the Hudson River and wear a wet suit in front of coworkers, I'm actually really excited about this. I have been running for three years now and am burned out. I almost dread it anymore and really only use negative motivation to get out there. I've been loving ninja lately and putting lots of energy into sparring. 

When I started running, I did not know what it would lead to. I'm now a marathoner. I do not know how to swim but I'm really excited to learn. I'm really excited that training for the bike part will give my boyfriend and me an opportunity to share a fitness activity. I can spend a few hours on a Saturday morning exercising with him instead of him waiting for me to get home to start the day. I'm excited to feel that rush of accomplishment that I just swam 220 meters for the first time ever. I'm looking forward to the change that instead of running three nights a week with a long run on the weekends, I'll have to learn to do brick workouts. I will cover more miles on a bike than I would typically run in a week in a fraction of the time. My routine and rut have been broken and it's awesome.

And one of the best parts of this is that my best runny buddy ever, Lauren Curran, was also selected! I cannot wait to share a new adventure with a good friend. We're both marathoners, bored runners, adrenaline addicts and will find a way to kick triathlon butt together! Even if we don't have bikes, a pool, or any clue what we're doing. 

Respect the Distance

Running is a funny thing. There is now clear cut definition or standard to what defines running. For some, it's short sprints at strong speeds around a track. For others, it's a slow shuffle along a quiet road. For some it's a weight loss tool, for others it's stress relief. It's even some people's job. There is no time limit or pace that defines running. My 10:30 pace is my 10:30 pace and it is not that really lean and speedy guy 's  6:10 pace. Our bodies are churning, our lungs are breathing, our muscles are working, our minds are free, it's running.
There are some people who work for months to be able to run a mile; and some that can just decide to run and go for miles without breaking a sweat. Some people run fast, some run slow. Some participate in races and events and some are content to have a few moments to themselves a day.

The running community as a whole supports this. I read once in Runner's World that if you care about being called a jogger, you're a runner. A runner will never dismiss or judge another's time and while we may get competitive in those final stretches, there is always an undercurrent of pride and encouragement. It's a pretty cool thing.

The disconnect comes when trying to describe or share running with nonrunners. Runners, or those that I have met, do not judge those who do not run. I run, cool. You don't, cool. I've had plenty of conversations with nonrunners and common responses are usually :

"Oh, that's awesome! I could never do that!"
"That's cool. I have a bad back/knees/heart/wrist/ailment."
"Why on earth would you do that?" (My personal favorite.)
"I can play tennis for hours, but I hate running." (This is my chiropracter's response)
"My brother/cousin/uncle/sister/girlfriend/coworker/friend/ is a runner too." (No, I don't know them, never participated in that race.)
"Oh, what's your 5K PR?" (Agh! Another runner! Yay! Until times are discussed and I'm revealed to be a turtle-like poser).

All of these responses are awesome and I love when people show interest and excitement. The responses that really bother me are the indifference or flat out disrespectful ones.

A coworker of mine came into my cage/office in the middle of the summer and declared she was running a half marathon. Cool, huh? She told me which was it was and laid out her awesome plan for getting ready and how the race had free beers at the end. The following week she told me how much her ankle hurt. The next week it was her knees. The following week it was too hot. Then she was too busy. Then it got dark too soon. This is while I was training for my marathon and fighting a daily battle with myself to overcome those same excuses. My advice was always just do it.

She never did take my training advice, only my advice on how to wear her hair and what to eat before hand. So, what are those Gu things? Do I need them? One piece of advice she never took was to stop smoking.
So, she did the half marathon. Notice I say "did" and not "ran." Her lack of training and respect for 13.1 miles caused her to stop at mile 7 and walk the remainder of the event. She didn't make the three-hour time limit. She talked like she was allllllllllthat and mooore for days because she totally finished and barely even trained. I had to bite my tongue on many occasions.

While I would never diss on a runner's time or experience, I am bothered by the lack of respect. A half marathon is 13.1 miles. That is a lot to ask of your body. And to simply THINK you can do it and not PREPARE demonstrates a certain amount of hubris and arrogance.

I've seen many a people claim "I'm gonna run a half marathon!" and then get a few weeks into training and back down, or stop talking about it completely, as the realization of what a long run can do to your body and schedule sinks in. I've seen lots of people stick with it and cross those finish lines full of pride. And humility.

You always respect the distance. From a 5K to an Ultra, respect the distance. Running requires work, dedication, and sacrifice and for a nonrunner to assume it's easy and can be done without trying is arrogant and annoying. I'm no slender skinny minny and have had eyebrows raised in disbelief when I said, "I'm doing the half marathon tomorrow," or "I ran 17 miles this morning." Yeah, you don't have to be a stick to run. You don't have to be fast to run. You just have to run to run. And to assume I cannot because I'm not skinny or fast is question my character. It's also a very transparent showing of their character.

......Clearly an Athlete

One late summer evening in 2008, my then roommate came bursting into the apartment with extra exuberance and excitement than her normal. Roomie was a dancer. A salsa dancer to be exact. She had a passion and drive for life that, when coupled with her big heart and personality, meant that whatever she was passionate about, everyone in her life knew about it and probably joined her. Her new adventure, the one she was simply bursting to tell us about, was a new chiropractor's office and 'wellness' place she found.
  "and he looked at my x-rays and said i was in a car accident when I was sixteen and because of my dancing that my hips are all goofy and then i laid down on the table and all my makeup came off and he cracked my neck and ohmygod it felt so good and you have to go and they do these seminars about eating well and being organic and they are so so so nice and do yoga..and....." She went on and on.  A few weeks later, I'm attending an Eight Weeks to Wellness Orientation with her parents, our neighbor, and her. And I was suckered in. This was maybe  my first introduction into this concept of healthy living and making choices about your food and body that will allow your body to be, well, better. Honestly, I was just happy to have something to do after work at that point.

Part of this program was an assessment with a personal trainer at the wellness solutions center. I was running maybe three times a week for about 45 minutes at the time. And not really doing it well. I was excited and nervous for the appointment. The trainer looked like a walking, talking Ken Doll. It was kinda freaky. I don't remember what we did or how the appointment went. I will always always remember Trainer Ken watching me attempt push ups and saying, "You're deceptively weak."

Deceptively weak. Oh. Ouch. This was admittedly not the best period of time for me. I was lonely and unhappy with a lot of circumstances in my life. To be referred to as deceptively weak when one was already emotionally and spiritually weak was more painful than the push ups.

"Deceptively weak" wrinkled my brain. It secretly pissed me off enough that I had to do something. I would not be weak. I decided to train for a real run. I joined a gym. I slowly learned to value and care for my body and soul. I learned to love sweating and working out. I signed up with a real trainer. (She looked like a Barbie doll but was sweet and helpful.) I ran half marathons. My body changed. My outlook changed. I started taking karate classes. I changed. I starting coaching Girls on the Run. I started and finished graduate school.

I ran a freaking' marathon. 


Despite the Ken Doll trainer's harsh words, I kept going to the same chiropractor's office. The chiropractor gave me a pass for another free appointment with a new trainer (Ken has since left the practice) after hearing about my marathon victory and the surprising pain I felt from a 'squishy' midsection while running.

As soon as my body felt recovered enough for a work out, I returned to the site of the "Deceptively Weak" crime. The new trainer and I worked on my core muscles and he gave me a lot of really good advice for runners. He was impressed that I had run a marathon, didn't question my time, or give me that "you're a runner" side-eye I sometimes get. He was interested in my karate practices. He spoke to me like I was a legitimate person with knowledge and credibility. It was crazy.

As I was leaving, he said,
"You're clearly an athlete."

I went from "deceptively weak" to "clearly an athlete." I felt as proud and as relieved in that fitness center as I did at the finish line of the marathon. The marathon was part of  a journey away from weakness, away from sadness and towards strength, towards health, and life. "Clearly an athlete." Huh. I'm clearly strong. Clearly. From deceptive to clearly. From weak to athlete. It's been QUITE a journey. It's incredible to realize the power words can have over us. Deceptively weak taunted me through long runs, weight reps, and chicken kicks. Clearly an athlete has provided some kind of validation for the past three years of hard work and sacrifice more than finisher's medal or new pair of jeans ever could. The burden to 'prove it' had some how lifted. I might not be the strongest person in the world, but dammit, I'm not weak. 

Disclaimer: I'm not an athlete in the professional sense and I'm certainly do not consider myself to be anything more than recreational runner. My hobby just happens to be a sport. I have respect for true athletes whose lives are dedicated to their sport.