A Day in a Ditch

Posted on March 26, 2015 by PattyRan

The alarm was set for 4am, but after spending hours NOT sleeping, I got out of bed at 3:45. Struggling to shake off the drowsiness, I prepared my tea and small breakfast in silence. It was 19 degrees out, but it would warm up to 80 by the afternoon. I quickly dressed in layers, and Jeff and I headed down to the hotel lobby, to meet the rest of the runners. We nervously joked about the temperatures and the physical challenge we were about to undertake.

We set out to run the Grand Canyon.

Arriving at the Bright Angel trailhead, the 9 of us turned on our headlamps, donned our gloves, took a few pictures, chatted nervously in the dark, muttered something like “Holy FUCK, It’s COLD”, and off we ran- beginning our descent into the biggest hole in the USA.

Six of the nine quickly disappeared into the abyss, as they were the elite athletes, embarking on a 50 mile “Rim to rim to rim” run. Jeff, Shane, and I had our sights on 20-23 miles. As any of my running buddies will tell you, I am a bit of a whiner on the trails. Before attempting this crazy ass adventure, I hadn’t convinced myself that I even REMOTELY liked trail running. So, what the heck was I doing? Too late to turn back! I pushed the button on my headlamp, and started down the trail. Visibility was limited to the beam from of our lamps and obstructed by the eerie swirling of the trail dust. I had no idea what lay beyond the small circle of light as we silently barreled down those first miles of switchbacks. Of course, I would find out later that most of the trails had shear cliffs and deep drop offs just outside of our sight.

The first signs of light began to glow within an hour of our start, and as morning broke, the views opened before us. The reveal of the Canyon’s layers, as the sun rose provided a dazzling show of rainbow colors against the massive walls surrounding us. We stopped to photograph the moment.

At the 4.5 mile mark, we came upon Indian Gardens campground, nestled in a valley, with colorful trees and a stream. It was only when we approached this area that we saw the first signs of other people. We mistakenly took a wrong turn, which turned out to be a 3 mile detour and ran the Tonto West Trail. This lead us to a gorgeous rock platform overlooking the Colorado River. Gorgeous, but in the wrong direction.

We turned around and found our way back to the correct trail. What’s a few extra miles, anyway? The terrain was mostly flat for these few miles, so we ran comfortably and took in the sights. It’s indescribable.

Before long, we found ourselves navigating steep and technical trails, with extreme switchbacks, so we slowed our pace considerably. The trails were now crowded with people hiking in both directions, but as far as I could tell, we were the only one’s actually running. I got some wonderful comments from people of all ages, showing encouragement and awe at what we were doing.

As we rounded a corner and saw the Colorado River, I was blown away by it’s power and history. The sound was mesmerizing. We stopped for a while, just to experience it and stare. Here was the 17 million year old river, with the power to cut a 277 mile, 6000+ feet deep canyon. The mighty Colorado River.

At this point, Jeff’s calf was giving him trouble, so he decided to start the trek back up the canyon, and Shane and I continued on to find Phantom Ranch. As it turns out, it was only a few more miles and one metal, grated bridge crossing. SCAREY!

By this time, we were 4 hours into our run and I felt incredible. I had energy to spare and wanted to keep running forever. Shane and I found Phantom Ranch and took a break to snack and refill our water bottles. There is a US Post Office at the ranch, and the mail is brought out on mule train, so Shane sent some post cards to his family.

I was THRILLED to find that the small cafe served Tazo English Breakfast Tea-my favorite!!! I sat down outside and thoroughly enjoyed a cup with my snack of peanutbutter energy bars. At that moment, all was right in my world.

A short time later, I took this

The first 6 miles of the ascent felt great. I had energy to spare and I powered up the hills, sweating, but thoroughly enjoying the challenge. I met people from around the globe, and shared encouragement with them all. It got quite hot though, so I started dunking my head in every stream crossing, to cool off.I kept looking up at the cliffs and started feeling a bit overwhelmed with the long, steep climb still ahead.

Once back at Indian Ranch, I thought about the 4.5 mile 4600 foot climb and realized that I had to do it without stopping or I would get miserably discouraged. It was approximately 8 hours since we started, and I knew I didn’t have several more in me. I told Shane that I would meet him at the top and headed off. This excruciating climb took me 1:21. This was the most physically and mentally challenging thing I have ever done. I can’t even convey the degree of difficulty, putting one foot in front of the other, all the while looking up at the grueling switchbacks and knowing I still had miles to go. I sweat like a pig and stunk worse than one when I reached the top. I could barely walk.

Jeff met me at the car and we went back to the hotel to shower and submerse ourselves in the glorious hotel hot tub. The pain was incredible, but nothing like what we would experience in the next few days. We drove back and met Shane and the rest of the group and then gathered to have dinner and celebratory drinks. I ate almost an entire gluten free pizza by myself.

The next morning, we all stumbled down to breakfast and shared our stories. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting everyone and sharing this epic experience with them. Late that day, we said our goodbyes and headed back to Phoenix for our last night. Getting out of the car was hilarious. Our legs didn’t work. Checking into the hotel, I was informed that the room I reserved wasn’t available, so they upgraded us to a Jacuzzi suite! YES!!! I think we stayed in that tub for an hour.

The next day at the airport, I couldn’t resist…my poor body.

Over the years, I’ve traveled the globe, and seen some amazing things. There’s a reason why the Grand Canyon is one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Go see it. If you are crazy like me, go run it. You will love it. Every beautiful, sweaty, stinky, sucky part of it.

As always, thanks for reading my blog. Subscribe so you can follow along. Share it, if you’d like. Until next time….

A Winter Diversion

Posted on March 5, 2015 by PattyRan

I decided to get away from the office for a week, and take a trip to Florida to visit my parents. My folks “Winter” in the South, like all good retired New Englanders. I call it “Heaven’s waiting room”.

I’m cursed with the lack of ability to relax, so I scoured the internet to see if there were any races near my parent’s place. Luckily for me, the 25/75 Championship Triathlon was scheduled nearby, so I registered for the Sprint distance. (750 meter swim, 12.4 mile bike, 3.1 mile run) The Port St Lucie Club Med hosted the event. I found a local triathlon shop nearby and rented a nice bike.

Florida weather is unpredictable. It was cloudy and windy most of the week, with temperatures in the 70’s and low 80’s. The humidity kicked my butt as I continued my daily training. I found an outdoor pool to swim laps and rode a crappy recumbent bike while watching “The Price is Right” with retirees who exercised on 30 year old equipment.

Back to the weather. All week, thunderstorms threatened the area and the weekend report was bleak. I half expected the event to be canceled. The day before the race brought a storm of Biblical proportions. Six to Seven inches of rain before 1 pm, and strong winds. I took this video from parents’ dining room window.

That’s not a sidewalk that you see-it’s a flood.The video doesn’t portray the intensity of the storm, but you get the idea. Flooding was widespread, roads were closed, and many neighborhoods around Stuart and Port St Lucie were underwater. I didn’t have a great feeling about racing in these conditions.

Sunday morning, I woke at 4:30 am. It was still pouring. Yippee. I stood in the kitchen, making my tea, eggs, banana, and peanutbutter breakfast, and questioned my sanity. “No turning back now.” I thought. When I left the house at 5:45, it was still raining. I had my rental bike, pump, wet suit, goggles, cap, towel, running shoes, bike shoes,…..and a million other necessities that a triathlete needs for a race. With a pit in my stomach, I rolled along the highway, imagining the miserable day I was about to experience.

Halfway to the race location, the rain stopped. It wasn’t quite sunrise yet, but I could see some breaks in the clouds and was hopeful for improvement. My mood lifted, I tuned the radio to a local Rock station, cranked up the volume , and started singing at the top of my lungs. Just like that, I WAS READY! WOOHOO!

I set up my bike in the transition area, chatted with other athletes, visited the bathrooms a half a dozen times, and drank my pre race GenUcan. Time to kick ass.

Getting ready to race

Twenty minutes before the swim start, I wiggled into my wet suit and made my way to the river. I was repulsed by the color. Black. Dirty black water. Gross. The starting gun went off, and into the churning mess I went. It was a rectangle course, and it took almost half of the distance before I got away from swimmers kicking me, hitting me in the face,swimming over me, across me, and under me. The wind picked up, and the swells were so high, it was difficult to sight the buoys. I like to swim a tight course, but had a hard time navigating. Finally, I rounded the first buoy and the course opened up a bit. At the second turn, the current tried to push us off course. One guy in front of me was “tacking” wildly, making it difficult to pass him. Every time I tried to go around him, he moved right in front of me. Desperate to do something to get out from behind him, and between his legs, I made a fist and socked him in the…ahem….sensitive area. This got his attention and he moved over. (Am I bad?) I exited the swim and started peeling off my wet suit as I ran to transition. I heard people calling my name! It was my sister, her family, and my parents jumping up and down, cheering for me.

I never look behind me when I race, and this day was no exception. Arriving in transition I had a momentary “unusual” experience. I stopped and looked around me. Most of the bikes were still racked. How can this be? I was in the second to last wave? Had I passed people? WAKE UP, Patty, and get going! I managed a quick transition and was off running with my bike to the exit.

The bike course was flat and technical. The storm left behind puddles and debris on the roads. This poorly designed course had multiple traffic circles, several complete 360 degree TIGHT turns at round-abouts, at least four 90 degree turns, and a few bumpy brick stretches. Strong winds on the open course added to the difficulty. There were plenty of course volunteers, and I thanked every one of them as I sped by. I averaged 18 mph, which was disappointing to me, but only a handful of people passed me. Heading into transition, one of the volunteers said, “Great job-you’re in a good position. Keep going.”

I couldn’t find my asthma inhaler, and I usually need it for the run. Exiting the main area, I watched a few runners dodging puddles, but being an Oregonian, I blasted past them, running right through the water. (Those that know me at home, know that I hate having wet feet, or getting my shoes dirty. HAHA) I ran my heart out. While I struggled with my “mental” race, I was determined not to let anyone pass me. Can I keep this pace? Can I make it? Will I stop and walk a bit? WHERE’S THE FREAKING MILE MARKERS? When I felt myself slipping, I actually started praying. Yep. Good old Irish Catholic girl. I meditated as I ran, calming my breath and shutting out the negative thoughts. Rounding the final turn before the home stretch, I once again saw my family cheering. There was a 180 degree turn twenty or so yards before the finish line, (REALLY???) and finally, I was done! I got hugs from my family and I felt great.

We hung around for a while and then walked to the pool for the reward ceremony. I had no idea what my results were. A long while later, I found out that I had won my age group! YES! I was ecstatic. Turns out I was 9th overall female finisher and 54th overall. I missed my Sprint Pr by 45 seconds, BUT I PR’d the 5k run by over a minute. 1:25:40 was my official time for the Sprint. 23:54 for the run.(7:41 per mile) Not bad for a 55 year old gal.

I’m glad I had this opportunity to race in Florida and even happier I got to spend time with my sister, her family, and my parents. That made the trip special!

Thanks for reading my blog. I encourage you to get moving. Make healthy choices. Enjoy your journey. Share your story with me!

Setting Aside Limits

Posted on January 23, 2015 by PattyRan

It’s 8 am and I am 8 months and 4 days away from competing in the mother load of races: Ironman Chattanooga. Just opening up the website creates a knot in my stomach. I’ve got time. The knot will loosen. It will tighten again, but I am not afraid anymore. For now, I am focusing on the training-putting in my time. Eleven scheduled workouts per week. I can’t honestly say I complete them all EVERY week, but I do a pretty good job. At 55 years old, I have never put myself through this type of sustained physical effort or concentration. I’m breaking through old self imposed limits and finding where the new ones reside. They won’t live there long though, because I’m starting to relish the shattering sound of them crashing beneath me as I crush them and shove them behind me. Don’t bother looking back Patty, they no longer exist! As a self proclaimed mediocre athlete, I must confess, I struggle with training. Sometimes I train too hard. (To the chagrin of my coach) Sometimes my head gets in the way, and negative thoughts sabotage the day. Other times, I cruise through with the confidence of a champion. Most days are not glamorous. They all end in sweaty, stinky clothes, and I do laundry by the ton.

Goggle eyes are a new fashion statement

There are moments of agony, while I’m cycling past the ability or will to keep my legs spinning, or swimming exhausted, knowing I have another thousand yards left, while wheezing on the verge of another asthma attack. Then I break through realizing a second wind is coming,and through the pain, a smile forms on my lips, even though the tears may already be spilling. I put my head down and continue. Eye on the prize and all that.

Currently, the phase of my training is called “Base Training”. I’m mostly putting in time and training my body aerobically, to get it used to the hours it will need to sustain. There are lessons learned along the journey and one that I am (not too) happy to be learning now, is how to sustain the work load without running myself into the ground. I am in the throws of my second sinus infection in two months, and not enjoying a single minute of it. I think it has to do with insufficient nutrition and lack of rest. Seems logical! I’m working with the best people I know, and learning more about becoming a successful endurance athlete, but I am making rookie mistakes and paying for them. My goal as I heal from this setback, is to improve my nutrition and to listen to my body. My coach turned me on to MyFitnessPal. I’ve just started playing with it, and I love how it calculates the categories of foods you should eat, based on your weight and the amount of time you exercise per week. I’m also paying better attention to the supplements I should be taking. It’s a journey!

I just finished the book Running Past Midnight by Molly Sheridan. This woman started running at age 50 and has since run in over 45 ultra marathons, including the 150 mile race through the Sahara Desert, (Marathon Des Sables), the 135 mile race through Death Valley, (Badwater Ultramarathon), and she is the first American woman to finish a 138 mile race through the Himalayas over TWO 18,000 feet peaks. (La Ultra-The High) One particular paragraph spoke to me, and echo’s my thoughts about training for my Ironman. Molly was attempting Ancient Oaks for the fourth time and an injury sidelined her 13.5 miles short of the 100 mile finish.

“…but if I’m invited back, I’ll have a new game plan. I am considering carrying my Dalai Lama prayer beads, wearing a rosary, and listening to African Women warrior drumbeats as I chant and pray my way through the Queen’s territory. Some might call me mad. Along that fine line of madness is my desire to reach past my physical and mental limitations. I want to go beyond what I think is possible. Is there really a big Queen oak tree out there purposefully stopping my progress, or is it my own internal Queen telling me I can’t make it? Whether she is in my head or out in nature, it makes no difference. I still need to overcome her.”

(Quote used with Molly’s permission.)

Rock on, Molly. I’m in your corner and whether you know it or not, I just put you in mine. Thanks for the inspiration.

If you would like to make a donation to help find a cure for Prostate Cancer, please click here

Semper Fi

Posted on October 30, 2014 by PattyRan

On October 26, 2014, I, along with approximately thirty thousand other people participated in the 39th annual Marine Corps Marathon. To say that this event was an “experience” wouldn’t be enough. Words escape me, but since this is a WRITTEN blog, I’ll give it a try.

I entered this race in a charity slot with the Zero The End of Prostate Cancer organization. My dear friend and former coach was diagnosed with Advanced Stage IV Prostate Cancer last Winter, and I wanted to do something to help in the research and awareness effort with Zero . In all, there were around twenty seven athletes on our team from all over the US that raised money and secured an entry into the race.

After a hectic day of travel on planes, trains, and automobiles, (in that order, I might add) a large group met up for lunch and the ultimate pre-race feast at an Italian restaurant. Holy Moly, the FOOD!!! The chef was kind enough to cater to my gluten free needs, and made me a whole plate of special pasta!

Another round of trains and automobiles, and another group of us met up for a pre race dinner. EAT ALL THE FOOD!!!!

Oh, and yes, beer and wine are part of our training.

The morning of the run came very early. I awoke at 4am so I could have my traditional breakfast of eggs, banana, peanut butter, and tea. We took the car to the train, to the Pentagon, and then had a brisk two mile walk to the starting line. Yes, we walked two miles BEFORE running 26.2 miles! Naturally, I visited every porta potty along the way, and several times before the race actually started. Oh, my nerves!

Pre race goof balls

It was chilly while we waited for two hours at the start, so we huddled together and gave each other encouragement. (And mostly harassed each other with dumb running jokes)

A few minutes before the start at 7:55am, we made our way to the starting line. I could see dozens of men lined up “watering” the trees and bushes one last time before the big trek. I was supremely jealous of them at that moment. The crowd was buzzing with energy.

Some of the 30,000

Coach Jeff-the reason we now know all about Prostate Cancer.

The energy at the start of this race was beyond electric. The Marines put on a show with fly by’s, hovering aircraft, and parachutes. This was my favorite:

One of many paratroopers displaying the flag

Right on time, the race began, and we were off. My goal was to hang with coach Jeff and plan on a four hour and thirty minute finish. With almost thirty thousand people running shoulder to shoulder, there was a lot of bobbing and weaving, just to keep up a steady pace. (When it was all said and done, my Garmin showed 26.8 miles. That’s a lot of extra steps!) We managed to keep our group together for three miles, when I had to stop and use a rest room. FRUSTRATING!!! So I dropped off and got in a line. I tried to catch up afterwards, but never saw my team again.

Running this course was incredible. I looked at the sights, smiled at people, and generally absorbed the experience. The weather was perfect, and the crowds were abundant, loud, and very supportive. After running “alone” for two hours, things started going wrong. At one moment, I was flying along, barely feeling my feet hit the ground, and in the next, my left Achilles, calf, and both knees began to hurt. I mean HURT. like, “Uh oh, what’s going on, and am I going to be able to finish this race?” kind of hurt. I ran my first two marathons with two torn tendons and a torn muscle in my left foot and that didn’t hurt as badly as THIS! I started to crumble. Just about this time, my emotions surfaced, and the realization that I was possibly injured and not able to complete this run became a possibility. Then everything around me became a trigger. There were Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine soldiers everywhere. American flags float in the breeze. People proudly ran with flags.

There were several groups like this that ran the whole course carrying flags

I began to tear up at the sight of this. I watched the monuments go by, and saw the soldiers-mere babies, in uniform, and cried some more. I thought of the reason I was here. Not just to run another marathon, but to support a cause that has become near and dear to me. I’ve never run for a cause. I was now a part of a purpose. It was right about this time that I came across the Blue Mile. This is a mile long stretch of the course where people hold flags and the street is lined with photos of fallen soldiers. I had heard about this, but nothing could prepare me for it. The photo posters are on stands, evenly spaced, and they are hauntingly beautiful. I found myself slowing down so that I could touch the top of each one, and whisper “Thank you” to each one. I sobbed for these people. I cried for their families. I didn’t care who saw me. I was not alone in my public grief at this spot of the journey.

I still had miles to go. Suck it up buttercup.

The second half of the marathon was an exercise in grit, determination, extreme cursing, and involved a lot of self talk. I hated most of it, cursed my lack of training, my lack of mental toughness, and tried to keep it together and power through. I had a bad attitude, and horrendous pain in my legs. I put my head down and stopped looking at the other runners, and ignored the crowds of well wishers. It was the darkest race I’ve ever run. When I saw the finish line, and the row of soldiers, lined up giving “high fives”, I couldn’t even muster the strength to participate. I crossed the finish line in a daze. When I finally looked up to see the young, smiling Marine that congratulated me on my finish, and put my metal around my neck, my fog lifted. I gave him a huge teary eyed smile, thanked him for his service, and thanked God for letting me be a part of this experience. OO-RAH!

There was a lot of limping for several hours after the finish. It was my slowest marathon to date. It was the biggest, most profound one as well. I met people I had only known online, deepened friendships with them, got to see our incredible nation’s capital, and raised money for Prostate Cancer research.

I will be blogging about Prostate Cancer in the future. I am excited to share that I have partnered up with Zero again and will be participating in Ironman Chattanooga next September. If you would like to make a donation of any amount, please do so here: http://www.ironman.com/triathlon/events/americas/ironman/chattanooga.aspx#axzz3HeVD6LdT.

Thanks for reading my blog.

One Sunday Morning in June

Posted on June 24, 2014 by PattyRan

Unless it’s a high profile event where a group of my friends is planning to race together, or I have a family member participating,I prefer to race alone. This might surprise some of my readers, because in reality, I love a crowd, and the bigger the party, the better.In my non athletic life, I can’t imagine not being surrounded by friends and family.

My ugly secret is that I experience high levels of stress with my training and racing. Supernova type stress! On race day, I am usually one panic attack away from needing a couple of Valium and a whole bottle of Kaopectate. I know it makes no sense, but I can rarely avoid the pre dawn hours pacing the house, making frequent trips to the Loo, always praying I’ll settle down. It doesn’t matter how well prepared I am, or how well my training has gone. Last Sunday was no exception.

I am a beginner Triathlete. Technically I might be an intermediate, but I don’t want to set any expectations. I’ve done four Sprint Triathlons, so far. Sunday, June 22nd was my fourth, to be exact. While they have all been fun and exciting, this one ended up being very special. I have been training all Winter and Spring, but these past few months have given me a wee bit of a challenge. Running isn’t smooth like it used to be. Cycling seems to have gotten harder too. My swim workouts in the pool have gone well, but I’ve only recently had the chance to get out in the river and do open water workouts. Have I mentioned my fear of cold open water? Plus, that shit’s COLD! And murky, and filled with floaty things, and gucky stuff on the bottom!

Don’t let the smile fool you

All of these things don’t matter, however, when the calendar shows you signed up for a race. So, Sunday morning, I got up early, (Did I REALLY sleep at all?) ate my customary breakfast, and waited for the nerves to die down. On this day, I was to compete in the Clackamas Cove Triathlon. A short 10 minute drive down 99E and I was there.

It’s important to overdress for a triathlon. It keeps you warm and calms the nerves.

I love small races of any kind. They are usually pretty well organized and people are friendly and helpful. The Portland Triathlon Club sponsored this event and they did a fantastic job. I arrived with plenty of time to spare, set up my bike and transition area, and visited the rest rooms a half a dozen times.

I like to set my bike up as close to the exit as possible.

Once set up, and with about forty five minutes to go, I drank my GenUcan chocolate protein shake, made with Coconut milk and a banana.

Come on, energy! Let’s do this thing.

The call went out for the athletes to make their way to the starting point of the swim, which was a five minute walk down the street, along a paved bike path, to the beach. I donned my wetsuit, grabbed my goggles, neoprene cap, and designated green bathing cap, took a good hit off my inhaler, and headed off. At the last minute, I decided to put on my swim booties instead of shoes, knowing that it might cause me to lose time in the first transition (T1), but did I mention the yuk factor of the river bottom? I was glad I had them.

The race started with waves, every thirty seconds or so. It went very quickly, and before I knew it, they called for the Old Bags to get in the water. I’m kidding about that of course, but really, when you are in the LAST age wave, what else would I call it?

The water was cold. I knew that. I was ready for it. According to the Oregon Water Scientist Center, the temperature in the “Cove” section was around 63 degrees, but once you exit the spill into the Clackamas River, it droped to around 57 degrees. OK, that’s cold. Before my wave started, I did a few dives underwater to acclimate myself and see if I could breathe with a relaxed rhythm. It worked! Before I knew it, my 800m swim (Just under a half mile) had begun. I found myself in the middle of a pack, with people bumping me, kicking me, and swimming half up my legs, before I kicked THEM in an effort to tell them to “GET THE HELL OFF ME!” At one point I had someone in front of me going back and forth like she was trying to prevent me from passing her. This ticked me off, so I veered off to he left and gunned it.

Going through the “Spill” into the actual river was a shock. I knew it would be colder, but this hit me like a brick. Several people panicked here and couldn’t go on. After two or three seconds, I took it in stride and kicked up my pace. Now as I turned left I could see the exit point. It got very shallow suddenly, and some people crawled along on their hands and knees. I knew that would slow me down, so I altered my stroke and flew through the shallows. I got to the exit rather quickly and ran up the ramp. My body was doing a bit of a slow motion run, which was hilarious, but given the fact that it was half frozen, I didn’t complain.

It was about a forty yard run to my bike, where I quickly removed my wetsuit attire, took another hit off my inhaler, put on my socks and bike shoes, sunglasses and helmet, grabbed my bike and ran for the exit., Once I mounted my bike, I held nothing back. It’s an interesting thing what happens to me on the bike. I am not sure who that woman is that inhabits my body, but I would never want to meet her in a dark alley. The ride was an out and back, with a total distance of twelve miles. No big deal…unless you are living it moment to moment. Trust me. No matter WHAT the distance, you feel every inch of it. I was fearless. I got up to twenty five mph on that freaking bike. I yelled, “ON YOUR LEFT” more times than I remember. The psycho woman in my head screamed (silently of course) “YOU’RE MINE, ASSHOLE”, as I dug deep and passed people.The sound of my loud “grunting” alone must have scared the crap out of them. I sailed into T2 and quickly grabbed my water bottle for the run.

3.1 miles seems like NOTHING. Unless you just sheared all the muscles in your legs riding your bike harder than you’ve ever ridden before. It’s actually pretty funny to see people hobble off the bike. I was no exception. My feet were completely numb. This has never happened before. I assumed they would eventually get feeling again, so I ran. And I ran. I ran close to my fasted 5k ever. It hurt. I passed people, and didn’t let anyone pass me. (except for one 15 year old boy). I finished with a sprint, and knew I had given my all.

Once I got my breathing back under control, I went over to get my results. It turned out it was my best triathlon, and I took second in my age group. I was thrilled beyond words.

Nice Microbrew prize!

I hung around and cheered for the last of the athletes to finish and then went home to eat volumes of food and take a long nap. It was a great day. I hope to learn from this, and not be as stressed the next time. (One can hope, can’t she?)

Do you get nervous when you train or race? How do you calm yourself? I’d love to hear your thoughts. As always, thanks for stopping by.

Heart of Rock and Roll

Posted on May 24, 2014 by PattyRan

Attitude is everything. Don’t I know it? I had a BAD one going into the 2014 Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon. This was to be my third half marathon in five weeks and I was TIRED! Two weeks prior to this event was the Tacoma City Marathon. I ran that one with my daughter Dede, and had a lot of trouble on the hills. I pushed too hard early on and paid for it later in the race.

We had a tough race but finished happily, together

My body had some “bitch slapping” to do as payback no doubt, and I ended up getting very sick for the next two weeks. Full blown, in bed, sinus infection, aches, and exhaustion; you know the drill-pure YUK.

During this time I tried to fit in some recovery workouts. Yoga, stretching, easy spins on the bike, and a few shake out runs. Despite WANTING to feel like I was getting stronger, it was pure torture to even run 4 miles. I pretty much had a two week rest period. So, when it came time to ramp up to run another 13.1 mile race with 10,000+ other people, I was less than enthusiastic.

I was honored to have been asked to run for team Salvation Army, who sponsored my race entry. I was thrilled to be running for them, but I still was not feeling up to the task.

Lat year’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in Portland had left a sour taste in my mouth. I paid way too much money, felt like a prisoner at the Expo, the live music along the race route was horrible, I ran injured, and had a slow, painful run. Perhaps I still harbored some resentment toward the whole RnR concept and this contributed to my bad attitude.

Going to the race Expo this year, I kept an open mind. Let me say this: it is easier to go through Customs in a foreign country than it is to get through the packet pick up at this event. Show ID. (translation: no group packet pick ups-EVERYONE has to show up in person to get their packet. AND, they don’t let you leave by the same way you enter, so you HAVE to go through the Expo to get out) I had to fill out a form telling them where I lived, how was I going to get to the race, did I own a car, how long I was staying in Portland, bla bla bla.I’m surprised they didn’t take blood samples.

The gear bag was this quazai-paper-kinda-like-a-reusable-grocery-sack kind of bag.

The instructions were to use this as your gear check bag and they included a zip tie. Dear Rock ‘n’ Roll organization: this is Portland, Oregon and you are hosting this event in May. Do you know that it rains here in May? Do you know that a zip tie will not close a bag of this type? How do we ensure our checked items will stay dry and remain inside this stupid bag while it is thrown into a truck with 10,000 other bags? Oh brother!

To their credit, RnR put on a great Expo. I let go of my bad mood and fully immersed myself in the festivities, even laying down some cash for these bad boys:

Just wait until I wear these on my bike. BAD ASS!

Sunday morning arrived in typical Portland fashion; overcast, cool, and threatening to rain. I debate what to pack for weather protection and decided it was most important to pack warm dry clothes for AFTER the run, since I knew there were be a lot of standing around and socializing when we finished in all of our glory.

Thankfully, my friend, Suzanne was way more prepared than me and had some extra ponchos. This is how I looked just before the race.

Liquid sunshine was in abundance that morning. Thank God it was warming up!

If you’ve ever run in one of these types of mega races, you know that you have to have a sense of humor and never expect to PR. You start running shoulder to shoulder with every skill type of runner and it takes a mile or two before you even have room to bob and weave around people. This day was no exception. Suzanne and I had planned to just run together until one of us decided to drop back or run ahead. There was no pressure to go fast or necessarily stay together. “Let’s just see what happens” was our motto. We stayed together for most of the race. Things went well for the first three miles or so and then this happened:

What well run Portland race doesn’t include the obligatory train stop along Front Ave?

Train stop! You have to have a sense of humor when running in Portland! After this, I just had to laugh. We got going again rather quickly and decided to make a potty stop. I usually try not to stop during races unless it’s an emergency, but on this day, we ran for fun.

The music this year was a far cry better than last year, and my mood started to lift as I found my recently rested body feeling strong and loose. The hills on the course that wrecked my injured tendons last year were a breeze for me to conquer this year. I got into my rhythm and focused straight ahead. At one point I felt so good and checked in with my Garmin, to realize that, despite the train stop and potty stop, I was not too far off from possibly finishing close to my PR time. This set me off running at a faster pace and I was determined to finish as fast as I could. My spirits SOARED…right up until the traffic stop. Yep. Portland Police stopped us to allow traffic to cross the route. Twice. During a race. Seriously. I may or may not have cursed at a cop. I’ll never admit to anything.

After the last stop, I flew to the finish. My official time was five minutes slower than my PR, but with the FOUR stops along the route, I was thrilled with my performance. My IT band wasn’t so happy, but that’s a price I pay for negative splits.

Afterwards, I got to pose with some of my Honey Badger friends.

We are so silly. I love these women!

I also got to play with some of Portland’s Urban Goats!

This turned out to be a fantastic race and a stellar day. I limped to the medical tent and got a massage, managed to walk the mile back to the car, and later met up with Amy, one of the girls I ran with, and had a foot soak and reflexology at Feel Good Feet Later that evening, I rested my legs in bed with a good book and a great dog.

So, despite my bad attitude going into this race, I had a spectacular day. I spent it with friends, had a lot of laughs, played with goats, and ran for a wonderful organization. Now it’s time to take a few weeks off from racing, keep training, and get ready for my first triathlon for the season in June.

Thanks for stopping by my blog again. Subscribe if you’d like to follow along.

Run and Done

Posted on April 15, 2014 by PattyRan

I’m a liar. I lie to my family, my friends, my coaches, and even myself. This past weekend, I lied to strangers. Funny think is, I know a large number of those people were lying too. We knew it and we were ok with it.

Let me explain. I ran the Vernonia Half Marathon on Sunday. This was the third time I’ve done this race, and it has become my favorite half. Two years ago, it was the first half marathon I had ever done, and that was a huge milestone at 52 years old. Of course I cried when I crossed the finish line. I was escorted the whole 13.1 miles by my fellow Honey Badgers, and I knew I wouldn’t have been able to finish without their help and support.

My support group of Honey Badgers-the best, most badass girls in the world.

Since that date, I have run 9 half marathons, 2 full marathons, 3 triathlons, and countless 5k’s, 10k’s, and relays. During this time, I spent much of the later part of 2012 and the first half of 2013 injured. I alternated between NOT running and doing Physical Therapy, to running TOO much, and hurting myself again. Like Winnie the Poo, I am a person with “little brain”. SO, I got a one on one coach to help me “Be healthy, train smart, and have fun.” (PRS Fit)

Working with a coach and being a member of an international team of athletes keeps you on your toes….and in the pool…. and on the bike. It also keeps you from buying Doritos and having “just one more glass of wine” at night. You see your weekly workouts and wonder, “How the heck am I going to do that?” And you DO it. Some days the challenge seems easy. Other days, you set off for a series of fast running intervals, only to succumb to a severe asthma attack, get scared, throw up, and cry. THEN you walk a little because, after all, you’re three miles from home, and what are you going to do? You get home, log your workout and wait for your coach to review and comment on your amazing effort.

This is where the lying begins. I tell myself that I am NOT a good athlete. I tell myself that I am not strong, not fast, not “worthy” of my team and my fellow athletes. The words “I am a poser” have crossed my lips more times than I dare admit. Silly I know, but I imagine you might have had these thoughts from time to time, as well.

These lies are poison. They are death to the mind, the ego, and the soul. I am making a commitment to end the repetitive negative self talk that accompanies me on my athletic journey. I know I will struggle with this, but I will keep at it, like I will keep doing my interval runs, despite my asthma. Like I will go lap after lap in the pool, until I am dizzy and shriveled. Like I will endure the pain in my legs while cycling uphill in zone 4. Like I will continue to work out, log, learn, and improve.

This past few weeks, as I was training for the Vernonia race, I struggled with every run. I had serious doubts about finishing the race at all. I told my coach I wasn’t looking to PR, but I wouldn’t mind at least finishing as fast as my LAST PR back in December during the Holiday Half Marathon in Portland. That was my best race ever, despite a nervous stomach and some GI issues around mile 5.

It was a chilly day in Portland, but perfect running weather for a race!

What I didn’t tell my coach was that SHIT YEAH, I wanted to PR! I wanted to break 2 hours, to be exact. But I lied. I didn’t think I had it in me, so I stuffed it. I was afraid of failing, of admitting to myself that I thought I could do it, and afraid of….WHAT exactly? I don’t know. Coach gave me a plan, and I committed it to memory. I still didn’t know if I had another 2:04 in me.

The morning of the run, I was surrounded by the familiar faces of dozens of my running friends. It was a glorious morning, in the low 40’s to start, with temperatures expected to reach the 70’s by afternoon. The sky was blue and the trees were all in bloom. Talk about beautiful! The first mile or so of the course is downhill, so you have to be a bit careful not to blow out your legs by going too fast too early in the race. The rest of the course is fairly flat until the last 3-5 miles, where you gradually go uphill the whole time. Last year, this uphill killed my damaged Achilles. I walked a lot that year. THIS year, however, I was determined NOT to let it stop me.

I ran my “plan” and found myself just a little ahead of my time at the mile marks. I felt pretty good, so I just kept on going. I chatted with friends along the way, but got into my own head and kept on pushing myself forward at a steady pace. I set my sights on a few people ahead of me that I knew were shooting for a sub 2 hour finish and tried to keep up with them. I got an amazing compliment from a young 20 something year old girl who said as she came up beside me; “I’ve had you in my sights for a while, and it was my goal to catch you.” What? Me?

I did all my secret tricks for staying focused on this run, like repeated mantras in my head, said lots of prayers, and replayed my coach’s words of encouragement. I knew I was on target to beat my stated goal and now I was HUNGRY to beat that 2 hour mark. Doubt is a bastard though, and in the last 3/4 of a mile, my body started listening to the devil within me. EVERYTHING started to hurt: my knees, my IT band, my “bad” ankle, my blister on the bottom of my foot, and my head. Three times I stopped for just a second or two to stretch and just say “NO” to the noise. When I saw the last short steep downhill switchback, just before the finish line, I barreled around a group of runners, and made the last effort to get it done. My official finish time was 2:00:29. I had beat my recent PR by over 4 minutes!

Boy, did that feel great! I had a great run, on a great day, and proved to myself that I am not a poser. I’m a strong, determined competitor that is still improving. From now on, I will not lie about my goals. I wonder how well I would have done if I had admitted to myself and my coach that I wanted to finish in under 2 hours. Well, in about 2 weeks, I am running the Tacoma Half Marathon, and I WILL beat that time. I hope to tell you all about it!

Do you hide your goals behind your fears or doubts? Do you lie to yourself? Let’s agree to work on that, shall we?

100K on Jan 1st

Posted on January 3, 2014 by PattyRan

Woohoo, I just banked 100K! No, it wasn’t money, it was kilometers. On a bike. In temps between 35-39 degrees. Without shoe covers. Yeah, I’m an idiot.

These past few months have been crazy with activity, challenges, and changes. I have been too busy to blog, and too overwhelmed to even THINK of things to blog about. But, today I will put down some thoughts.

I cut eleven inches off of my hair in August. Yep. It was the best decision! I love the freedom of short hair, and the fact that I don’t even need a brush anymore. I can dry it in five minutes!

The new ME

Yeah, I know, I look ten years younger. Haha, I FEEL 10 years younger, actually. I’m doing the “Benjamin Button” thing this year.

I’ve been training with a maniacal (and hugely effective) Triathlon coach since May, and I am doing some form of training seven days a week. This training is all based on heart rate, and if my resting HR is 8-10 beats per minute higher than it should be, I get a day off. This has only happened once in the past three months. If you told me a year ago that I would be doing this much physical activity at this age, and still functioning, I would have laughed in your face and eaten another bag of Doritos. For the record, I haven’t had Doritos since the Summer. Farewell my spicey friend, I miss you so. True confession time: I actually did eat these in Mexico in November:

Technically they are not Doritos, so it doesn’t count.

When I returned from my trip to NY in October, I made the decision that it was time to downsize. For the past eight years, I have been living in a 3000 SF, 5 bedroom, 4 bathroom house, with a 3 car garage. My children live out of State, and are not coming back, so there is no reason to hold on to this size house anymore. Some long term tenants recently gave their notice, so this was the “Speak now or forever hold your piece” moment. Little did I know what I was about to experience. The idea of downsizing sounds all sorts of sexy. It’s not.

A lifetime of accumulated articles of memories, baby clothes, kids’ school projects, camping and rafting equipment that hasn’t been used in years, client files, 2 snow shovels that have never been used,…you get the picture. Did I mention that the new house doesn’t have a garage? Moving day was December 20, 2013. Oh wait, no. It was actually supposed to be the 19th, which was the date I put on the lease my new tenant, (moving into the big house) signed. OOPS!!! It didn’t help that I went to Mexico for 10 days to celebrate Thanksgiving with family! I already had started to loose my mind before the trip; evident by the fact that I arrived at the airport with my expired Passport and missed my flight.

This is my “I missed the flight because I am a dork, and now I have to take a later flight alone” face.

In the end, I made it and kept my cool.

Back to my training. While in Mexico, I continued my daily training, because, 1) I eat and drink like a college student while on vacation, and 2) My other “team mates’ and I were in a Team Challenge that included doing daily prescribed workouts, logging them, and posting video proof on Facebook, for bonus points. I wanted to win this challenge, so I went full speed ahead, despite the alcohol poisoning that was, no doubt creeping up on me. I wasn’t a total lush on vacation, and some days I actually had healthy food. Who wouldn’t when this kind of stuff is available and CHEAP?

Some days we even had a late morning or afternoon snack of a Pina Colada in the container that Mother Nature provided, as is demonstrated by my able bodied assistant, daughter Audrey:

Coconut, courtesy of one of our trees.

The trip was fantastic. I got all of my workouts in and posted, including some fun videos of me “suffering through” the crappy weather, all in the name of fitness. Who’s kidding who? This is pretty much what I felt like every day in Mexico, knowing that I was not in the cold Pacific Northwest in November:

One week after I returned, this happened:

20 degrees with a wind chill factor of 10

The cold reality that is my REAL life hit like a steel door in the face. Winter had arrived in Portland and I was not prepared for the sudden shift. I got over it after a real breakdown on the Portland Waterfront.

I have much more to tell you and for today, I will leave you with this. Happy New Year and I will be back more regularly to thrill you with my escapades!

Let’s all Take a Chill Pill

Posted on October 27, 2013 by PattyRan

I am a news junky. I read several different news websites daily, and scan the comments at the bottom of most stories to see what peoples’ reactions are. Here’s mine: Holy Mother of God. What’s wrong with everyone? Seriously, I have about had it with all the verbal attacks, whining, name calling, and negativity out there. Yesterday I was driving and witnessed more than three different episodes of “road rage” within a half hour. Does anyone have any coping skills anymore?

What gives, people?

Short and sweet:

Today I have decided to write a post that doesn’t have anything to do with running or triathlon training. My blog is about how I navigate through my own challenges and how I am seeking to do positive things as life “throws stuff” in my way. Well, damned it, people are bombarding my world with crap and I’m sick of it.

Maybe it’s that government shut down that had everyone on edge. Maybe it’s the fat ass hypocrites we voted into office. Maybe it’s the change of seasons, the economy, the fact that you can’t get a decent cup of coffee for less than $3.10 anymore. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Stop treating people like garbage because your world isn’t perfect!

As I write this, I have just come from being with a friend that has cancer in just about every major organ of his body.Chemo has caused his hair to fall out, and his coloring is different every time I see him. Guess what? He was smiling and making jokes. The only negative thing he said was that the Chemo or Radiation makes things sound like he is in a wind tunnel, and his eye sight was weird. No complaints. No bitching. Just facts. He wasn’t angry. His smile was radiant.

So here are my questions: Is the world going to be a better place if you scream at someone? Is the person on the receiving end of your criticism deserving of your wrath? Do you need to step back and made the DECISION to be positive?

Take a chill pill once in a while. At least switch to decaf.

Facing My Fear Part Two-Race Day!!!

Posted on October 7, 2013 by PattyRan

Race Day, Montauk Might Many Sprint Triathlon

The alarm went off at 4:14am, not that I needed it, because I had been awake most of the night. I wondered if any other participants were as worked up as me.

Like most athletes, I have a specific morning routine that I follow, down to the smallest detail. I drink a cup of tea with honey, a toasted gluten free bagel with almond butter, jelly, and Chia seeds. I have to get up early enough for this to digest, so I can…ahem…leave a little of it at home, so to speak. With the race day jitters I am a frequent user of all-that-is “toilet”.

My race day equipment was packed. I had a bucket filled with towels, a plastic garbage bag, bike and running shoes, socks, extra water bottles, 2 swim caps, goggles, gloves, a jacket, bike helmet and glasses, inhaler, Vaseline, my phone, and God knows what else. It didn’t all fit in the bucket. I WAS going to put on my wetsuit at the house, since the starting line is just a half a mile away, but I opted against that…..I knew I would need frequent visits to the Blessed porta potties before starting. I arrived at 5:45am and the transition area was already about 75% full. The grass was wet on my flip flop clad feet and my sweat pant legs were getting damp. This pissed me off way more than it should have. (STRESS) I methodically set up my transition area, positioning everything I would need for the two changes. My helmet was perched upside down on my handlebars, with my glasses inside. My wool socks were rolled down to the toes; my towel was ready, water bottle to wash my feet off was ready, and my bucket was turned upside down. Next to all of this were a jacket and my running shoes, and a small water bottle filled with an electrolyte drink for the run. Taped to my bike was a plastic bag with a small protein bar that I could shove down at the start of the cycling. All that was left was for me to go to the bathroom six more times and put on my wetsuit.

Good morning athletes! Do you like my fake smile?

Approximately thirty minutes before the scheduled start of the swim, I took a long pull or two on my inhaler and proceeded to encase myself in black rubber.

The time came for all athletes to move over to the shore line and assemble in our “waves”. I was in the 4^th wave: females, 40 and older. We all had white swim caps. They assigned MY group of WHITE CAPS? BORING!!! Anyway, we lined up and nervously chatted.

White cap? Yes, but I think the purple adds a little fashion. Oh, and notice the look on my face!

One by one the waves of swimmers entered the water, for their “chest-deep” start. (I assume we didn’t do a beach-run start because they didn’t want people stomping on all of the snapping turtles.) As I moved toward the water, I felt like a cow going to slaughter. The voices in my head laughed and told me I was going to die. Then the shivering took over. As I moved further into the lake, I looked around and had what I can only describe as an out of body experience. The only thoughts I had were: 1) Oh my God, I am really going to do this, and 2) Oh my God, I wonder how many of these people around me are peeing in this water?

There was no time to worry about pee because the next thing I knew a gun went off and my wave started. SWIM PATTY! I took a few strokes and found myself playing a water version of Twister with four other swimmers. My goggles fogged up and I couldn’t see. All I could do was TRY to swim, which was impossible because a group of us were seemingly staying in one place, wrestling. This did not please me. I tried zig zagging, looking for a way out of the churn, and I realized I wasn’t breathing at all. CALM DOWN! Since I couldn’t see out of my goggles, or stop shivering enough to get a good breath, I flipped over on my back and did some kind of messed up version of sculling. Embarrassed by this, I flipped back over and did some breaststroke. Then for some reason, I started side stroking. SIDESTROKING?!!! Who the HELL sidestrokes??? Oh, and I was barely 25 yards from the start! I considered giving up right then and there. Yep. BUT I DIDN’T. I decided that no matter what, I was going to finish this God forsaken swim and get out of that lake. I never warmed up enough or calmed down enough to do more than ten to twenty crawl strokes at a time. I swam on my back a lot, inventing ways to move my body through the water. I breast stoked a TON, and did my best not to drink any of the lake’s blackish green water. I wondered: “WHERE THE HELL DID ALL MY TRAINING GO?” I kept going. I stayed on my belly all the way into the shallow water, and jumped up when it was only two feet deep because I heard that is faster than trying to run through waist deep water.

This is how I WISH I felt after the swim….hahahahaha, silly girl.

I stumbled, exhausted, out of the swamp. As I gathered what remaining strength I had left, I unzipped my wetsuit and ripped my goggles off. I found that my entire face was covered in slime. I thought it was seaweed, until I realized it was coming out of my nose and mouth. I was a phlegm factory. It took several attempts before I was able to rid myself of that shit.

By the time I ran to my bike, the swim experience was completely behind me and I was READY! I had a little trouble getting my left leg out of the wetsuit because of the bulky timing chip on my ankle, and I started to panic. I stopped, took a calming breath, and pulled my foot out. I put my glasses and helmet on, ripped open the bag with my snack in it, and shoved the protein bar in my mouth. Never underestimate how dry those things are! I was in the very back section of the transition area so I had to navigate around several people before I exited the area. I clipped right into my pedals, headed down the street, and spit out the protein bar, for fear of choking on the damned thing.

Something happened to me as soon as I got my feet spinning. I turned into a combination of Godzilla and Jim Carey in “The Mask”. I approached other cyclists with the screaming voice; “ON YOUR LEFT!”, “PASSING!”, “On YOUR LEFT!” Oh my God, I was actually embarrassed. (Well, not really) I was a mad woman throwing my head in the air and cackling! “You’re MINE, I tell you!”

GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!

The course has a bad ass hill about a mile into the start, that sneaks up on you and never lets go. My lungs were in my throat half way up. I crested the top and shifted into high gear. I usually brake a little on the downhill, but this time, I just let it go. WEEEEEEEEEE. (“Oh God, please don’t let me crash, please don’t let me crash”) The ride is an out and back and the usually fierce Montauk wind behaved on this day. I rode hard, although my legs were protesting the whole way. At one point I looked down at my computer and it read 30 MPH. WHAT? The last hill was a killer and I slowed down to 11 MPH for a portion.

This lady scares me!

Before I knew it I was back in the transition area and in short order, I changed into my running shoes and grabbed my water bottle. My feet took off faster than I thought possible, and for the first mile, I had no feeling in the front half of either of them. The course circles the lake and the views are stellar. Now that I was no longer IN the lake, I enjoyed its beauty. I got a little fatigued and in an effort to avoid an asthma attack, I took a few short walk breaks. I passed a lot of people on my run and finished with a sprint.

Coming down the home stretch

I put it all out there that morning. When I finished, I was heaving, and wheezing, and within about a minute after the finish, the tears arrived. Like I said in my previous post, they always do. There’s a mixture of: joy, exhaustion, wonder, elation, and accomplishment that I just can’t describe. I did it. I did well. I gave my all. I didn’t die. I didn’t shit myself.

My bike shop buddies: Pierce and Lenny, and me, enjoying our age group awards!

To some, a Sprint Triathlon is like an easy walk in the park. They could do one in their sleep. For me? It was my biggest physical and mental accomplishment since I did my first marathon last year. But in many ways it was harder. I loved it. I hated it. I laughed and I cursed. I know I will do another one. Will I ever make it all the way to an Ironman? Oh boy…. time will tell. For now, I will enjoy this memory, and keep on training.

Running in Muck

Running Through What Life Throws At You