I know, I know...

I SAID I wasn't going to do another tri this year. But then someone put a bug in my ear about the Wilmington YMCA triathlon.

It looks pretty easy, except for the swim. Not sure I'm ready for DOUBLE the length of the swim I just did. But I have heard that, because you're swimming with the current and because of the buoyancy of the ocean water, it's actually pretty fun. And I do like the idea of a flat bike course, because I the hills are always what kill my time on the bike.

Any of you planning to do this race? Any thoughts or advice?

Also, any suggestions on how I can become a better swimmer in the next two months??

7am: 35min elliptical

Now what?

It took about three hours for the "Wow, I did my first triathlon and it was awesome" excitement to wear off and be replaced by the "what am I going to do now?" malaise.

So I've entertained myself today by changing my template (the green was giving me a headache) and deciding on some new races. I don't think I'm going to sign up for another triathlon this year. All the details of planning training for another race overwhelm me. It's easy to do single-race planning, since all I have to do is follow one of many plans available online. Not so clear how to train for multiple races at a time. So I figure I'll spend the rest of this year getting stronger and learning more and can worry about planning races and stuff like that next season.

Randy and I are going to do a century ride in two weeks. It's not a race, but just a laid-back ride through some of my favorite scenery. I'm excited about it. Randy thinks that, since our longest ride so far has only been 45 miles, we won't be ready, but I'm not worried. I figure since it's a "fun" ride with plenty of aid stations and lots of chances to stop along the way, it won't be a big deal.

Then in November, I'll run the Battleship Half Marathon, a race that starts and ends on the Battleship North Carolina.

Which will lead me to my next goal: a marathon sometime in early 2007. I haven't decided which yet.

I figure I can use swimming as a recovery workout for all the run training I'll be doing, which will give me a chance to get my swim to a more respectable place by next year.

Before I did the race yesterday, I wasn't sure I'd do another one. But now I realize how addictive it can be, knowing that I did pretty well this time but with some training and work on my weak spots, I can be a ton faster next time.

What have I gotten myself into?

2006 Bucker Mission Man Race Report

(Note: This is probably going to be pretty long, since I don't know how to tell a story in anything but painful detail. Also, some of the pictures that follow are pretty unflattering, but I will still share them in the spirit of documentation. I got my tri top for free, so I wore it, but I sure hope next time, Randy can hook me up with a free FULL-LENGTH top. I'm just saying.)

The morning of the race, Randy woke me up at 4:30am. Turns out he was too nervous to sleep and got out of bed at 4:15. I was nervous too, but sure wasn't having any problem sleeping!

I'd packed everything up the night before, so after a quick breakfast of an english muffin with peanut butter, we were ready.



It took us about 45 minutes to get to the site and we arrived right around 6:15. There were only a few dozen people there at that time and I was glad we'd come early, because later, it got a lot more crowded.



As we walked in, I was surprisingly un-nervous. Maybe because I spent the entire week before the race being really terrified, I was able to relax and have fun on the actual day. A lot of the people I saw when we first got there didn't seem to share my attitude. I'm guessing they were probably new, too, since it seems like the seasoned people arrived a lot later. When we first walked over to pick up my packet, I was smiling and saying "hi" to people and nobody said "hi" back. The tension and anxiety were palpable and everyone looked super serious. That was when I decided that I did not want to be nervous or scared and I definitely didn't want to take myself too seriously.



And having your fiance document the trip to the porta-potty certainly helps keep you humble!

I have to say that, in every way, having Randy with me at the race was amazing. He kept joking that he was my domestique, taking the pictures, helping me carry my bags, putting on my timing chip and a million other things. But I was so thankful he was there, since it was easier to stay grounded and not be too nervous with him standing next to me.



It had rained the night before, so the ground in the transition area was still wet. The second I put down my towel, it immediately became totally soaked. In fact, by the end of the day, everything I had was soaked.

I'd thought about the transition a little bit, but just kind of set everything out in the order I thought I would need it. Seeing my time in the transitions, I think I probably need to work on that a little bit!

I laid out my transition, then went off to warm up. I did a quick spin on the bike and a short jog up to the parking lot and back. Then it was time for the swim warm-up. I wanted to get at least 15 minutes in the water, partly because it takes a few hundred yards for my stroke to smooth out and partly because I wanted to get as comfortable as possible before the race. I came out of the water a bit out of breath and worried that I'd worn myself out before the race. But I drank some of Randy's magic potion of energy, also called Accelerade, and then it was time for the race!!



We got in the water and lined up all along this retaining wall. I stayed over to the side and as out of the way as I could get. The seconds between when they called "30 seconds" and the starting gun felt like seven hours. I focused on breathing deeply and remembering to start my watch.

The gun went off, I started my watch and we were off! It was a little messy at first, with hands and feet and grasping arms everywhere, but it smoothed out pretty quickly.

I spent the first few minutes of the swim just getting in my groove. Mojo had told me to go out and swim like the Little Mermaid, and that's what I thought about as I swam.

And before I knew it, we were at the first buoy. A couple times during the swim, I'd end up in the same spot as somebody else and, after struggling with them for a few strokes, I'd stop and breaststroke for a second so they could get ahead. It just wasn't worth it to me to fight them. But I kept going. I never stopped to rest. I never had to roll over on my back. I even passed a guy from the wave in front of me who was doggie paddling his heart out!



Randy caught this picture of me at the end of the swim. I'm the one in the light blue swim cap. Those two people are both from the wave behind me, but I don't care. Look at that nice high elbow!



At the end of the swim, the exit narrowed considerably and there was a bit of a traffic jam, with everyone coming in from all different directions. I'm right there in the middle, with the teal goggles. Note that I am not the only baby blue cap and also note that there is a baby blue cap behind me.

Because I did not come in last!! I came in 23rd out of 27, but I did not come in last!

As I ran out of the swim exit and up the chute into the transition area, I was so happy the swim had gone well and so proud that I had stayed calm and comfortable and hadn't panicked, that I threw my arms in the air and just yelled "WOOOOTTT!"



(Thanks to the Burlington News Times website for this photo)

A bunch of the spectators started wooting along with me and I couldn't help myself. I yelled "I DIDN'T DROWN!!! I'M ALIIIVEEEE!!!!" and I ran into the transition area with a giant smile on my face.

My goal for the swim was to finish in 20:00 and I came out in 20:01. Which is okay with me because I really didn't push it at all. I stayed calm and smooth and wasn't exhausted when I came out of the water.



The thing that was hardest coming into T1 was how WET everything was. I was dripping from the swim and everything on the ground was soaked from the humidity. I know TriDaddy said he didn't think it was that humid, but that's only because he's a super badass Ironman in training. I, who am of a more mortal variety, was there and I can tell you -- it was insanely humid.

I didn't rush in T1. I took a second to eat a ClifBlok and have some water. Then I strapped on my helmet and my sunglasses, my bike shoes and I was ready to go. Except for the fact that my sunglasses were completely covered in water and completely fogged up and I couldn't see a damn thing.



Randy caught this picture of me leaving T1. He caught it right before the stupidest thing I did in the race. Note that, in this picture, my sunglasses are in my hand. That's because I'd just taken them off and was just about to, like a dummy, THROW them toward my transition spot. Of course, because I am a total weakling, they didn't land anywhere near my towel. Oh no. They landed exactly in the middle of the transition aisle. So I had to walk back the 15 feet to get them and throw them more accurately at my towel. So that's why my transition took almost 2 minutes. Gotta work on that.

But then it was time for the bike!



I'm glad the mount/dismount line was on the other side of that speedbump! At this point, I'd been wearing my socks for only 30 seconds and they were totally soaked. I'd trained in socks and my bike shoes were only a couple weeks old, so I didn't feel comfortable racing sockless, but now that I see how long it took me to put them on wet and how immediately they became uncomfortably squishy, I plan to get used to the sockless thing.

I mounted my bike and was on my way!



The bike was AMAZING. The course was smooth and fast and my bike felt so good and I felt so good on it. With a ClifBlok coursing through me, I just went for it.

I'd switched two weeks ago from mountain bike pedals and soft-soled shoes to road pedals and stiff shoes and had felt like I wasn't as efficient as I could be. Randy kept telling me that it was because my power transfer was so much better and I could push a lot harder gear than I had before, but was still in the lower gears. I didn't really get what he meant. But I finally got it during the race. Because I did almost the whole thing in my big chain ring.

I'd felt good during the swim, but it was on the bike when I realized that the race was going to be a success. I passed a bunch of people, first people on mountain bikes and townie cruisers, then women on bikes like mine, then women on aerobars. The best part was when I started passing the men and the very most wondrous part was when I passed some a guy on a fancy bike down in his aerobars.

My goal for the bike was 55:00 and my actual time was 47:41. My average speed was 18.2 mph.



I knew before I started that the bike was my strongest sport and had padded my goal, figuring I could use the time I gained on the bike. But I figured I'd be right around 50. I'm excited to train more on the bike, because, now that I'm figuring out how to push it, I know I can get a lot faster.



T2 was pretty good. I got to retrieve my sunglasses, which had dried out a little bit. Standing up, I was a little shaky, so it took me a couple tries to get my right foot into the shoe. I ate another ClifBlok, had a small drink of water and moved out of there in 1:45. I really need to get faster on my transitions. I just realized that I put on my race belt and my sunglasses and my headband in the transition, all of which I could have done while in motion.

I'd heard that the run course was pretty hairy, a trail run with lots of roots. Plus it had rained the night before, so I expected it to be muddy. And it was.

The trail was tight and twisty with a few uphill sections. I was really glad during the run that I had done most of my training on a very hilly trail at Duke Forest, so I was well prepared. There were tons of muddy spots and puddles, but they didn't bother me too much. Because I had my secret weapon:

I know it sounds dumb, but every time things get dirty and messy and I start getting tired, I like to pretend that I'm in a Nike commercial. So with every muddy step, I imagine a slow-motion shot of my foot striking the ground and mud slapping against the camera. With every ragged inhale, I envision a close-up of my sweaty face, eyes staring into middle distance, lost in a haze of determination. Whenever I start to think about stopping, about walking, I drown out those thoughts by imagining the eloquent V.O. I'd record for my commercial. It works surprisingly well!

The first half of the run was by far the hardest, with most of the uphill sections. A lot of people were struggling pretty bad. Effort-wise, I wasn't having too hard of a time. The main problem was my ClifBlok. I hadn't drunk enough water with it so it was, true to its name, sitting in my tummy like a block. But after a few minutes and a nice burp, I was fine.

I was interested to see that the men were having a harder time during the run than the women. I'll bet it has something to do with that testosterone-driven impulse to go out as hard as possible at the start, leaving you to burn out at the end. But what do I know?

We were off the trail and back on the road, nearing the halfway-point turnaround, when I heard a flapflapflap and looked down to see my left shoelaces whipping around. I'd been tracking right behind a girl in my age group and planning to pass her during the second half, but as I bent down to tie my shoe, I watched her keep plugging on and disappear into the distance. Cursing, I started running again and pledged to get some lace locks.


By the halfway point, I was ready for the race to be over, but still felt strong. My breathing started getting a little ragged, but I just focused on inhaling through my nose and taking belly breaths, which always helps right away.

Then I looked down at my watch and realized that it said 1:33:30. Which meant I could finish in under 1:40 if I booked it. So that's what I did.

At the 2.75 mile point, there was an aid station. I always feel bad denying the water the volunteers try to give me, but at the same time, I haven't mastered the art of simultaneous running and drinking and so have never been able to actually get any of that water into my mouth. But I hate to say no, because they are always so earnestly excited about giving us water. So this time, when I came through and saw that the aid station was manned by two teenage guys, I decided to have a little fun.

"Just hit me with it, guys!" I yelled. And they obliged. The guy on my right threw two cups at me, missing mostly, but giving my left thigh a nice cooldown. The guy on my left, however, must have much better aim, because he threw his cup of water and made 100% full contact -- with my face. The water knocked against the side of my head so hard that it whipped my head to the side and knocked my sunglasses off kilter a little bit. I had to run blind for a few seconds until the water cleared from my eyes. And I discovered that it's kind of hard to sprint when you're laughing your butt off.

I came around a corner, heard the yelling and realized my triathlon was almost over.



My goal for the run was 30:00. My actual time was 27:14.

I sprinted the last little bit and came across the finish line 1 hour 38 minutes and 38 seconds from the moment I pushed off in the water.



Randy caught this moments after I finished. After he snapped it, I joked that if he stuck around for a minute, he might get one of me vomiting. But, alas, I never did.

And even though Randy says this one makes me look like a man (which is I put the nice nice girly one in yesterday's entry), I'll finish with the picture I like the best:



It was an amazing day. I finished feeling strong and proud and capable. I met a lot of nice people, including TriDaddy and his family. And I can't wait until next year!

I did it!

Not only did I finish my first triathlon this morning, I did it over 11 minutes faster than I had hoped!

My Goal Finish: 1:50:00
My Actual Finish: 1:38:38

The overall ranking hasn't been posted yet, but I came in 13th of 27 in my age group

My splits:

Swim -- 20:01 (23/27)
T1 -- 1:59 (18/27)
Bike -- 47:41 (10/27)
T2 -- 1:45 (21/27)
Run -- 27:14 (13/27)

In a bit, I'll post a detailed race report with more pictures than you probably want to see. But right now, I'm off to take a nap.

WOOOO!!!!

(4:55am)

RWWWWWAARRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Insert "Eye of the Tiger" here)

Here I go

Is my first triathlon really the day after tomorrow?

I keep forgetting -- isn't that sad?

This is probably just about the crappiest week to have before the race. I have been super, super busy at work and super stressed. As a result, I've only been getting about 6 hours of sleep each night, as opposed to the 9 I usually need to feel rested and ready to go.

But I plan to go to bed early tonight and I'm hoping that a solid 9 hours tonight and a good rest tomorrow night will be enough to get me ready.

I did a practice tri last Saturday. It was good to get the experience and see what it would be like to get on the bike dripping wet and to go through the whole thing. The swim was actually easier than I imagined it would be, but the run was a lot harder than I thought. I actually had to walk for a minute, which wouldn't be such a big deal, except I've got it in my head that walking=failure. Not sure where that came from -- I need to get rid of that attitude. I'd rather run the whole thing, but if walking for a moment will mean that I am stronger and faster in the long run, then I need to see that as what I need to do and just do it, instead of crying and whining about it. And then I need to get out and run more. I've found in the swim that turning on my back once or twice actually results in a faster swim time overall, because it allows me to get a quick rest and to reset my stroke and refocus. I need to bring that kind of attitude to the run.

As it comes near, though, I think it's easier for me to just not think about it than it is to admit that I'm nervous!

Today and tomorrow I'd like to spend thinking about the race and thinking about how I want to perform and trying to visualize the kind of experience I want to have.

I'm excited to pick up my packet, but I'm not sure I can get there in time the night before. Is it worth it to leave work early the day before or will I be okay getting the race packet the day of?

Also, I'm not sure what time I should get there. The race starts at 8am and I want to have plenty of time to get situated and warm up. I'd like to have some time to warm up on the swim, because my stroke usually needs a couple hundred yards to get itself together. Any thoughts?

Eek! As I write this, I'm getting more and more nervous. All my friends keep saying they want to come cheer me on, but I'm like, "NO! Don't come!" It makes me anxious because of course the perfectionist in me worries that I will fail in front of a crowd of people I know and would prefer to do it without an audience. But the optimist in me wants a cheering section.

I'm supposed to do a 15-minute easy bike and swim tomorrow. It will be a challenge for me to respect that time limit, but I'm going to do just that.

Here I go. Wish me luck!

Salty Dog

I decided to take the weekend off from training, since I felt like my body needed a little bit of a break.

Of course, I didn't get one, because we spent the whole weekend at the beach.

We had a wedding to attend in Wilmington on Saturday evening, so we headed down early that morning and played in the water the whole day.

The wedding was fun, but the best part was when we got up early on Sunday morning to go back to the beach.

Because that's when I actually swam in the ocean.

I have never felt comfortable in the ocean. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I always end up pummeled by the waves. Or maybe it's the fact that, every time I stand up after being pummeled by a wave, my bathing suit has been re-arranged into a most exposing and unflattering configuration. I always end up with salt water in my sinuses and burning the back of my throat, coughing and sputtering as one wave after another crashes over me.

But this time was different.

Maybe it's because I was wearing a sports bathing suit instead of a few little bits of fabric haphazardly tied together. Maybe it was because I had my goggles on, so I could comfortably open my eyes underwater and see where I was going. Maybe it was because the weather was so perfect and the waves were so glassy.

Whatever the reason, I swam in the ocean on Sunday and I liked it.

I might even go so far as to say I loved it.

Because one thing I'd never appreciated about the ocean is how fabulously buoyant one becomes in salt water.

And that, my friends, is something that makes swimming a lot more fun. Since I didn't have to worry about sinking, I could actually pay attention to my stroke, could notice how my elbow wasn't quite as high on recovery as I'd like, could focus on slicing my hand into the water at just the right angle to encourage good body rotation and all of that.

That was amazing. And then I boogie boarded for three hours straight. Which was fun, too.

Not exactly the break I was planning for though. I told myself that, since I wasn't biking or running, it didn't REALLY count as exercise and I could still say that I'd taken a rest day. No matter that I had a giant rash all over my belly and was so tired on the ride home that I didn't want to expend the energy required to get out of the car and walk into the house.

The complete idiocy of that approach made itself fully clear when I tried to do a bike-run brick on Monday morning and completely bonked halfway through the run. Seriously, I had to walk most of the run and even that was hard. I kept stumbling over my own feet because it was just too much effort to lift them any higher.

But I took a real break on Tuesday and had a nice interval run yesterday. Today I got back in the pool and while I still wasn't as fast as I'd like, I was a lot smoother and more comfortable. And instead of focusing on speed, I tried to get my stroke length down, which was a nice change of pace and probably smarter in the long run.

The only problem now is that all I can think about is getting back to the beach and back on my boogie board!

I only go to 11

In just over two weeks, I'm going to FINALLY be doing the triathlon I've spent the last four months training to race.

Today I went for a swim and realized that I've actually gotten SLOWER over the last month or two. When I first started I was progressing a little bit every time and now, I'm finding that the opposite is happening. Today I swam 100 yards in 2:07, which is only a few seconds faster than what I was swimming it in a couple months ago. But what bothers me more is that my stroke length is way, way shorter than it used to be. When I was in that "Wow, this swimming is awesome and I'm getting SO much better" phase, I was averaging between 21 and 24 strokes per length. Now I'm kicking more at 24-27.

And I couldn't figure out what my problem was. But I think I understand now.

I'm tired.

As much as I swore I would be smart and train smart and not overdo it, that's exactly what I've done.

You see, I don't have any moderation in my training. I have 0 and then I go to 11. That's it. Every triathlete who's blog I read talks about their recovery workouts, staying in their heart rate zone and varying their intensity depending on what they've been doing.

I seem to have a problem with that.

Here's my training log for this past week:

Saturday: 35 mile ride at 16.1 mph average. My heart rate spent most of the time in the 180s. (For reference, I've seen my HRM kick over 200, so I know my max is higher than the 193 suggested for my age.)

Sunday: Open-water swim. Not so intense, but really stressful and exhausting what with the anxiety and giving up and going back in.

Monday: 4.2 mile run (finished in about 37 minutes). Hilly trail around the Duke Golf Course. Average heart rate over 180.

Tuesday: Strength training in the morning. Master's swim group of horror that night.

Wednesday: Elliptical machine, average heart rate a nice 150. A nice recovery work out -- not normal for me, but I think I needed a break after the misery of the master's swim.

Thursday: 3 mile run (29:33 finish). It was hot, I was tired and I think my average heart rate was almost 190. But I did sprint the last couple hundred yards and purposely pushed it up.

Friday: Today's swim was 300m warm up, about 400-500 meters of drills and then about 400-500 meters of straight swimming and then about 150 meters cool-down. About 45 minutes in the water.

---

Okay, now that I look at that, it doesn't seem like that much. But my body is telling me that I am tired. I really want to take my bike out tomorrow morning, because I finally traded in my Time ATAC mountain pedals and soft-soled Shimano shoes for some Speedplay road pedals and Northwave road shoes and I want to try them out.

So I'm telling myself that I'll just go out there and take it easy, do a little spin and see how it feels.

But there's a problem: I only go to 11.

Jack of all trades, master of none.

After changing my mind about seventeen frajillion times, I finally worked up my courage and showed up last night for the master's swim practice at my local Y.

Which turned out to be just about the worst experience I've had in training for this triathlon.

Seriously, it was kind of like what I expected. But way, way, way worse.

Everyone there was a "real" swimmer. There were about 15 people, all of whom looked very serious about swimming. They all wore the "I'm on the swim team" briefs and had that swimmer physique. There were only two other women.

The coach was a middle-aged guy who was in excellent shape and had obviously been swimming for many years.

I was standing nervously by the pool, waiting for practice when he came up to me.

"Um, we're getting ready to have a master's group here, so you need to swim over there." He pointed at the two lanes left for general swimming.

I told him that I was actually there for the master's group and he was a little awkward, but introduced me around and stuck me in a lane with "the girls."

It was different from what I imagined in that everyone was very nice. But that somehow made it worse. Because they were nice in that "we have no idea who this person is but we are still going to be friendly because that is the polite thing to do" kind of way. They all knew each other really well and it was clear that they didn't get new people very often.

So the time for practice came. And I don't know what I imagined practice would be like, but this wasn't it.

The coach put a bunch of stuff on the board with the whole workout.

And then he got in the pool. And started swimming the workout with everyone.

Now I've never been a swimmer and I've never been to a swim practice, but it seemed awful weird to me that the coach would be in the pool swimming with everyone. But whatever.

I was clearly the slowest person there and the coach kept saying stuff in a low voice to the other people in my lane like, "You're going to have to swim freestyle instead of fly" and "Why don't you just take it easy today, because she's..." (I couldn't hear the rest of that one.)

The second practice started, I knew it was going to be bad, but I'm a trooper, so I started going along with everyone.

Of the four people in my lane, I was the slowest, but not by THAT much. Honestly, I would get behind because I didn't really know what was going on and the coach would shout something to everyone and they would all start swimming, coach included, and by the time I figured out what he shouted, everyone was already down at the other end.

I did a few hundred yards and the coach swam up to the end of the lane to meet me.

"You do 75 to their 100," he said. "Just try to get through this."

So I tried. But halfway through, I realized that I was wasting my time. The way this group was structured made it clear that I wouldn't get any coaching tips or any help with my form and the way people were acting made it clear that I was getting in their way.

So I did something I HATE doing: I gave up. Halfway through, I got out of the pool. When the coach got to the end of the lane, I said to him, "Thanks for your time, but it's clear this group is beyond my skill level and I'm just getting in the way."

"Okay," he said in that I-feel-kinda-bad-but-I'm-really-relieved voice.

And then I went in the locker room and cried while I showered.

Good times.

It wasn't all bad, though. Swimming with all those people and the waves and the splashing and the circling was a nice change of pace from my usual uncrowded swims. And I really swam pretty well. I was slower than everyone else, but my form wasn't terrible and I wasn't getting winded or near drowning. I was just too slow to keep up.

So I guess it's back to swimming on my own. Maybe someday when I get faster and more confident, I'll go back and join the group.

Or maybe I'll start my own.

Fear of the Deep

I went out this afternoon for an open water swim. Of course, I was SUPPOSED to go out first thing in the morning, but of course, I ended up at the last minute having to go into work for six hours. Of course.

After I got out of work, the last thing I wanted to do was go float around in some nasty lake. But alas, the race is only three weeks away and I don't have too many more open-water opportunities in my future. So the second I got in the house, I strapped on my bathing suit and roused poor Randy off the couch so we could go.

The last two times I went out to swim, Randy actually got in the water and swam with me, kind of doggie paddling and treading water as I did laps back and forth. This time, though, he was tired from a three-hour mountain bike ride, so he decided to stay on shore and play lifeguard.

The place where I swim is a little protected harbor of the larger lake. It's cool because there's a road that blocks any boat traffic, which means it's very safe to swim. There's a designated swimming area, but it's all full of screaming, splashing kids, so I always head out to the other side of the floating markers that demarcate the swim area.

Today I got out there and started swimming. And at first it was the same as before, where the murky green was comforting in a strange way. But then I started imagining. And that, I discovered, is never a good idea.

As I stared down into the green, I started wondering: How far down can I really see anyway? Can I see 5 feet or am I really only looking down 5 inches? How close does something have to be to me before it emerges from the murky darkness and reveals itself?

And that's when I started freaking out. I tried to get back to that place of zen, but it was nowhere to be found. Every little wavelet was freaking me out. I started hearing splashes all around me and kept startling myself with my own kick splashes.

After about two minutes of that, I lifted my head to sight and saw a bunch of bubbles breaking the surface about five feet next to me. And I thought about all the big turtles we always see sunning themselves around the lake. And then I imagined those bubbles might be from a really big turtle that might come up and bite me when I put my hand down next.

And then, I'm ashamed to admit, I panicked and swam myself out of the water and ran up the shore to where Randy was sitting.

And then, I'm even more ashamed to admit, I sat down and started crying about how I would never make it and how I was so stupid for even wanting to try swimming and about how I didn't even want to bother any more.

I did that for about three minutes. And then I took a deep breath and walked my ass back into the water. As I splashed through the shallows, a little tiny blonde toddler was swimming next to me. She waved happily to me as I passed by. And suddenly I didn't feel quite so scared.

I got back out there and swam for almost 18 minutes straight, without ever stopping to touch a buoy to rest. Once or twice, I started getting winded and panicky, but I just broke out the amazing back float samurai action and in a minute or two was able to get going again. I had originally planned to swim for 20 minutes straight, but I figured if I added my first part onto the second, it was close enough. And besides, I still have three weeks to go!

But I am not sure that Jordan Lake is such a safe place to swim. First of all, when I got out of the water, I had a pounding headache. Which I've gotten every single time I've swum out there. Secondly (and this had never happened in the previous few times I've been in the water there), I was sitting next to Randy toweling off when I noticed that every tiny hair on my skin was brown and that I could see each one in clear detail. Which is funny because usually, they are all blonde and I can't see them unless the light is shining right. So I swiped a hand across my arm and the brown smeared into this weird coffee-colored water. Gross!

There's a masters group that practices at the YMCA where I swim. They meet on Tuesday and Thursday nights and it's free to join, so I am determined to go this Tuesday. Even though I am a little nervous, since I have this (admittedly unfair) preconception that most of the people on masters teams are middle-aged men with giant egos. I do acknowledge that I have absolutely no evidence to back up this belief. But, giant egos or no, I feel like I can't afford to pass up the chance to get a little coaching when I can, especially since I KNOW there are technique issues keeping me from swimming as comfortably as I could. So yeah, I vow right now to swallow my pride and show up at the pool when 6:30pm on Tuesday rolls around.

I like to ride my bicycle.

I like to ride my biiikeee!!

If nothing comes of this whole triathlon business and I decide I never want to do another one ever again, it'll still be worth it because it got me to buy my road bike.

I love cycling with a furious passion.

Randy and I have been doing long rides every Saturday and each week they get longer and faster: 20 miles, 25, 30, 40, 45. We go out in the country and just cruise along the almost-empty roads, enjoying the farmland scenery as it unrolls beside us. Once we get going, I feel like I could go on forever, pedaling until the roads run out.

That's how I feel on the flats anyway. On the hills, I generally feel like I want to fall over and not get up again. I've got the technique down on the flats and the downhills, but man, as soon as we hit an incline, my speed and efficiency just plummet.

I just don't know how to tackle those bad boys. It seems like I can never find the right balance of power and efficiency. If I go up in a harder gear, I can keep my speed up a tiny bit more, but I end up wearing myself out. But the second I drop down to a lower gear, the slowdown in speed is just painful and I feel like I'm spinning to nowhere. So once I figure that out, I might just be unstoppable!!

Our long rides have also forced me to step into the world of performance drinks and gels, which I have always been pretty resistant to doing. On our first long ride, I swore that I would not eat a gel, no sir, not on a train or a plane or in a box or with a fox, etc. But halfway through our ride, I was exhausted and out of energy and my only option was a razzberry clifshot.

I took one bite of that thing and spit it right back out. Randy, on the other hand, was chowing it down like it was the tastiest thing he'd ever eating. To me, it tasted an awful lot like the inside of a bad, organic generic Nutrigrain bar -- too sweet, with the gross undertaste of the rice syrup. Yuck! I ate a tiny bit more just so I could keep riding, but I was darned if I was going to do that again.

But the next ride, I discovered the answer to all my problems -- in a tiny little cube caled a ClifBlok. Instead of being the consistency of toothpaste like the gels, these are kind of like gummy bears. I keep them in the freezer, so by the time I eat them on the road, they're not cold but aren't all oozy and gross like the gels.

I've even been drinking Endurox after the rides, just because it actually does make my legs a little stronger the next day.

So yeah. I've bought into the great, grinding machinery of the sports products industry.

But the very best thing about these rides is that, since they last 2.5 hours and we ride and ride and I sweat and sweat, when we go out for dinner on Saturday night, I eat just about whatever I want. And I have beer. And it is ALL good.

There's a century ride out of Hillsborough in August and I am all about it. I'll be there on my bike -- you can count on that!