Brick-Building

Since triathlons are made up of three different sports disciplines, all happening one right after the other on the same day, it's important to practice doing a couple of those sports in the same workout.  Doing this is called a brick.  Interesting terminology!

I did my first brick yesterday: a bike/run combo.  We biked 10 miles and then ran two miles.  Like the open-water swim clinic last weekend, this training exercise was eye-opening for me.  Although I ride significant distances, my routes are often broken up by stoplights or other activities, like biking to someplace, staying a while, and then biking back.

This workout gave me the chance to ride continuously and then feel what it's like to transition into running.  The change from one sport to the other feels funky, and not just because you're tired when you hop off the bike and start running.  You're using different muscles, and it takes your body a bit of time to adjust.

BeginnerTriathlete.com describes it this way:

When you stop biking and start running the legs feel “strange” and heavy (this is why they call these workouts bricks!) and the heart rate goes up, as our body tries to switch the blood from flowing into the muscles used for biking to those used for running. This feeling is more pronounced at the start of the run and usually the legs get better as time passes - although probably never as fresh as those you have when you run without biking before it (I wonder why?! ). Brick workouts help shorten the time our legs take to start feeling more normal thus allowing us to run better and faster. It is not uncommon to experience cramps when starting to run after biking, especially if you are not used to it. As usual, listen to your body and slow down if you feel a cramp coming. A carbo gel and water will also help if you are experiencing cramps due to the decrease in muscle fuel.

This was another great training experience for me, each of which are gradually easing the nervousness I have for what's to come on race day.  I'm already looking forward to the next one!

The wetsuit is scarier than the water

The route of our open-water swim: we headed from shore to the  yellow buoy and back, a distance of 340 meters. Look at the trees; no doubt about the 25-35 mph winds that day! Yay! I got the wetsuit on:  right side out AND frontwards. There may be hope for me yet! Aquawoman!

As soon as I stumbled on the Iron Girl Triathlon website, there was no turning back.  I saw that colorful, flower-shaped logo, and I was hooked.  Reading further sealed the deal.  This was a *sprint* triathlon: a nifty, miniature three-sport race, comprised of an 800-meter swim, an 18.6-mile bike ride and a 3.1-mile run.  This athletic gem was within my capabilities. Although I knew I could do it, I also knew I'd need training.  Training is a bit foreign to me.  Other than a few joint sessions with a personal trainer, I've never specifically trained for any event.  Of course, I'd never done any events, either, until last year. I've done pretty well with my own quirky workout techniques.  For all the events I did last year, I came in middle-of-the-pack.  Not bad, IMHO.  I did the Muddy Buddy in March 2010, after only about a month riding a bicycle (since high school) and no running experience.  I had  the most "training" for Scale the Strat because I'd been doing multiple sets of stairs at work for years.  I'm not sure I could have trained for the Warrior Dash in Colorado; how do you train to crawl under barbed wire or jump over 4-foot walls of fire?  Some things, ya just gotta go with. But a triathlon is different.  Layering three different sports takes preparation, so I decided to get some help.  That lead me to Stephanie at The Fitness Source, a charming gal who explained her program to me and invited me to an open-water swim clinic out at Lake Las Vegas, the site of the Iron Girl race.  The only catch: I was gonna need a wetsuit.

A what?! I'm from New England, baby. I have splashed around with the best of 'em in the frigid Atlantic Ocean, coming out shivering, blue and wrinkled, wearing a big grin after hours in the water. I don't need a wetsuit!

Well, according to Stephanie, I needed one. Grumbling to myself, I remembered that I reached out to her for her expertise, and perhaps I'd better listen to her suggestions.

So, the evening before the clinic, I headed to Las Vegas Cyclery to try on a rental wetsuit. The clerk asked my height and weight and pulled out three suits for me to try. I slipped into the bathroom and tried to slip into a wetsuit. Nothin' doin'. I pulled and tugged and hopped until I sorta got the suit on. There was no zipping it on my own. I pulled at the fabric; seemed like it would zip up - with help. I redressed and took the suit out the desk.

It wasn't until the clerk turned the suit right side out that I realized I'd tried it on inside out. No wonder it wasn't going on! I was embarrassed even though he had no idea. Good thing I didn't say anything!

I got the suit home and shared the story with my husband, who proceeded to laugh hysterically. He laughed even harder when I tried the suit on again, backwards this time. Ugh! Was there no end to the trials and tribulations of this darn wetsuit!?! And how was I going to avoid looking like a complete boob at tomorrow's clinic??

I finally got the suit on correctly, and Mike zipped me up. It was super snug, but I could move in it. Okay... that was good. How was I going to handle getting it on the next day, though? Should I wear the suit in the car out to Lake Las Vegas - a 45-minute drive? Or, should I rely on the kindness of complete strangers to zip me into the neoprene sausage casing when I got there?

In the end, I chose faith in my fellow competitors, and one of them was gracious enough to zip me up once I got the suit on - helped by something called Body Glide. Another couple of benevolent strangers loaned me a swim cap and goggles. I was completely unaware that I needed them. Doh!

It was brisk out at Lake Las Vegas: 55 degrees in the air, 50 degrees in the water with 25-35 mph winds. We were actually glad to be wearing our wetsuits on land. The coordinator of the clinic told us we were champs just to be there because the conditions were "hardcore". I felt pretty badass. I'd braved the conditions and conquered the wetsuit; the water had nothin' on me.

And, it really didn't have anything on me when we finally headed into the lake. It was a little chilly, especially when I splashed some water down the front of my suit to build a layer of liquid insulation for the swim. Once I got going, though, I was fine. The hardest part was actually the wind raising a stinging spray and hindering my vision, even with the goggles. Side swimming helped with that.

It was surprising how draining the wind and the cold were, but I still completed the 340-meter course, just under half of what I'll be doing on April 30th for the race.

I came out empowered, knowing that the wetsuit was the worst of it, and since I'd beaten that beast down, I'd be fine with the water.

Being an athlete

My timing chip! At the climbers' staging area With our friend Darren, who climbed as well. He's an F15 pilot and a runner. He's so tall that I had to stand on tiptoes! With my husband Mike, who was waiting for me at the top ♥

Last year, when I first scaled the Stratosphere, climbing 1,455 stairs spanning 108 floors, I had no idea what to expect.  I was so nervous!  I was excited about supporting the American Lung Association, and I'd been "training" for this type of event for years.  But, when I showed up at registration and saw all the amazingly fit people wandering around, I was intimidated.  I suddenly felt like a fraud, like I didn't belong.  The same feeling hit me this year. It's a recurring theme.  I describe myself as an "oddball" adventurer mostly because I don't fit the vision I have of an athlete or adventure racer. I am not in perfect shape. I am not a runner. I do not train at the gym or with a personal trainer. I hated P.E. and did not play sports in high school. Bottom line: I don't look like an athlete.  Even after losing more than 100 pounds, I am still round and look soft despite all the muscle mass I have. So, all the super fit peeps chatting about their strategies and times kinda bummed me out.  To make things worse, this year, I finished two minutes slower.  It took me 19 minutes to climb, instead of 17.  That was tough for me.  Since I started competing last year, I've said that I do these things to challenge myself, not to set a time.  In every race I've entered, I've placed in the middle of the pack, and I've been okay with it.  But, it was disappointing not to match my own record. The question is: does being a little slower invalidate the whole endeavor?  It felt like that, but I know that's not true.  Being a little slower doesn't make me less fit or less of an athlete.  It means I was a little slower for one event.  It happens for a variety of reasons, and it's not the end of the world. Why is it easier to write those words than believe them?  I think it's because of all the things I wasn't as a kid and am not now... all the things I listed above.  I am battling against an outdated image of myself then and an idealized image now. The thing is, it's not about looking like an athlete.  It's about being an athlete. -noun a person trained or gifted in exercises or contests involving physical agility, stamina or strength; a participant in a sport, exercise, or game requiring physical skill. I am an athlete.

Scaling the Strat - Part Deux

  

Last year, I climbed the Stratosphere and jumped off it - all in the same year!  This year, I'm doing it again... at least the climbing part.  Hopefully I'll be rappelling off of another Vegas casino later in the year.  Gotta change things up, right?!

I like workouts that I can incorporate easily into my daily routine, and doing stairs fits the bill perfectly.  I've been doing them for several years now, not quite since I began my lifestyle change in 2002, but for a long time.  They're great!  As long as you've got a building with one or more floors, you can run stairs before work or after, on breaks or on your lunch hour.  You can do one or two sets or a whole bunch of 'em, depending on your time constraints.  You can walk briskly; you can run; you can take them two-at-a-time.  Bottom line, stairs are a fully adaptable, customizable workout for any schedule or fitness level.  I'm hooked on them! 

So, last year, when I learned about Scale the Strat, a charity stair climb to benefit the American Lung Association, I had to participate.  This was the ultimate event for stair climbing enthusiasts like me!  This is no tiptoe-up-the-steps gig.  It's serious stuff: 1,455 stairs spanning 108 floors.  Yowsa!

I did it in 17 minutes last year, and crazily enough, I'm doing it AGAIN this year... today, in fact.  Nutty!! It's going to be grueling, but it will be totally worth it.  I'm raising money for a terrific cause, AND I'm challenging my physical limits.  Doesn't get much better than that... unless you add music.  iPods and MP3 players are banned on this climb.  Why?  No idea; it's a bummer.  Music is so motivating, and AC/DC's "It's a Long Way to the Top" is the ideal anthem for this kind of event!

Ah, well... the things we put ourselves through in the name of philanthropy and personal growth. :)