A Simple Secret

Sometimes the simplest things make the biggest difference. For years I’ve tried to learn flip turns, but the result was always some sort of weird sideways motion instead of a true flip. Observers said I didn’t keep my head down, so I tried envisioning my chin glued to my chest. It didn’t work – my head came up mid-flip, I listed to my side, and my feet missed the wall. Then my daughter told me she could do proper flip turns only with her eyes closed. When I mentioned this technique to my Masters swim coach, she gave me the kind of incredulous smile I give my younger sister when she says something stupid, but I know she means well. Of course, I should keep my eyes closed. So, I approached the wall, tucked my chin, squeezed my eyes shut, pulled my body forward and down – and over, landing my feet squarely on the wall. I pushed off and surfaced to “high fives” all around. I’d finally done a successful flip turn.

In A Minute

While swimming with the TGs last Sunday, I accomplished a personal goal that has eluded me for sometime, and one that several years ago I would have thought improbable. I swam 50 yards in a minute. Now I know that’s still slow, but it’s 30 seconds faster than I used to be and 10-15 seconds faster than my usual pace now. Of course, after my “fast 50,” I felt like I was trying to swim in deep mud for the next 25, but then I recovered enough to do it again.

My Own “Tri Kids” and the Power Sprint

One day last January my daughter told me she and her husband were thinking about training for a triathlon, which their fitness center in Maryland was sponsoring. The event was to be held indoors in April, and the participants had to swim in the pool, ride a stationary bike, and run on a treadmill for ten minutes at each station. Winners were determined by the distance accrued in each segment, and F took first place. After that experience C and F decided to try a “real” triathlon and signed up for the Power Sprint at the Shady Grove YMCA on May 23. Not to be left out, I registered for the AquaBike.

Saturday afternoon we checked out new bikes and gear at 3 Sports after we picked up our packets. F found his dream bike, and I saw one I could learn to like, but ever-practical C herded us out of the store before we spent $$$$. Saturday night we listened to the rain while C and I packed our transition bags and F cleaned and tuned his bike, a 30-year-old relic he bought with his first paycheck from his first job.

By Sunday morning the skies were clearing. We arrived at Shady Grove about 6 a.m. and found a great parking place behind the pool area. We unloaded our bikes and headed to the transition area to set up our spaces. C carefully arranged her helmet, shoes, and run number/race belt on her towel beside her bike – a model example of how to set up (and one she did not learn from her mother). We got our timing chips and body markings and then returned to the car for breakfast. A few minutes before transition closed, C noticed F was wearing his run number. We sent him scurrying back to leave it in transition.

Our predicted swim times were within a minute of each other. C was worried I’d overtake her on the bike since my start time was only several minutes behind hers. F swam faster than he’d thought he would and was finished before I got in the water. C’s time was exactly what she’d predicted. Mine was 30 seconds slower, but even so, I set a PR for that distance.

I set a different kind of PR in T1, as it was maybe my longest time in transition – ever, nearly as long as my swim time. I couldn’t get my helmet fastened. After struggling for several minutes, I heard a male voice behind me say, “Ma’am, you have you helmet on backwards.” I thanked him, turned the helmet around, and still couldn’t fasten it. Eventually, the straps snapped into place and I took off on the bike course.

While I was on my bike, I thought I was having a great ride. I maintained a decent speed – faster than my training rides around my neighborhood – and I even passed a rider who had passed me. When I saw my official time, though, I was disappointed not to have been faster.

I never saw C or F on the bike course – they were too far ahead. In fact, F completed the run as I came in on my bike. And his time would have been better if he hadn’t had to return to T2 for his race number, which he’d forgotten to put on. C crossed the finish line about 25 minutes later. They both enjoyed the race and are planning to do another tri at the end of June in Maryland. I plan to be there, too – have to keep this sport in the family!

Getting Reacquainted With My Bike

The transition from indoor to outdoor cycling is difficult for me, as I much prefer riding my bike on a stationary trainer than on the real road, but triathlons are generally not done indoors, so … after a month of no biking at all, I’ve gotten my bike out of my garage and onto the street. Since Saturday, I’ve ridden three times around my neighborhood – a total of 20 miles, but since I didn’t fall once, and by ride no. 3, actually began to enjoy myself, I consider the ventures successful. Of course, I still have to master clipping both feet into the pedals, but even if that doesn’t happen, I’m feeling friendlier toward my bike.

A Lost Month

My training log for April shows a dearth of activity – some strength training sessions, a few swims, one short run, and no cycling. I have a sort of excuse, I suppose, as for much of the month, I was out of town for work or out of state visiting family, but I fear I’ve lingered too long in “Slugville,” and it’s good to turn the page on April.

Another Season

If I lived in my ideal world, this post would be about getting a PR in the Smithfield Sprint or the Monument Ave. 10K, both of which took place yesterday. In a less perfect world, I at least could say I participated. But, no, I wasn't at either event. I was home, wondering whether the strange, sort of rotten smell permeating my laundry room, or something else, has caused my laryngitis/bronchitis, and comtemplating why an injury nearly five months ago has me still sidelined. I think I should be "all better" by now, and the fact that I'm not has routed my mojo like KY took out WF in round 2 of this year's NCAA tournament (90 to 60, for the non-b'ballers). I don't want to be the stereotypical old person who constantly complains about her ailments, but they seem to have taken over my life. A new season is here, though, so it's time to get out of my rocker and tri.

Two Steps, One Step

My return to running has been at tortoise-speed. Since mid-February, using the walk-run method, I’ve logged a mile, or a mile and a half, once a week. Even by my standards, the pace has been slow, but the point was simply to get accustomed to running again. Each week I’ve tried to run more and walk less, with varying success. Last Saturday, however, I decided I would attempt to run the first half-mile (five blocks) before I interspersed any walking. Surprised by the respectable pace at which I did the half-mile, I decided to try running the second half-mile, too. After three more blocks, I was starting to slow down, but I could see the stop sign ahead that marked my “finish line,” and I was determined to keep running. I got there, and only 20 seconds later than I would have if I’d stayed on my original pace. I doubt I could have run much farther, but I was elated to have that mile behind me. I had plans of two miles for the following Saturday.

Until Thursday. While doing split squats at strength training on Thursday night, my left foot/ankle started to hurt. I don’t know what I did to it, and it seemed better this morning, but I decided to forego cycling and running for RICE-ing. Hopefully, I won’t be “defeeted” for long.