Several New York Minutes

Posted on March 12, 2017 by PattyRan

My three kids all live out of state, and while it is heart wrenching to spend every day without them, we find ways to stay connected.

Enter “game changer”, Charlie Belle. Nobody told me about the feeling of complete and total NEED to be physically WITH one’s grandchild. When you have a grand daughter that lives three thousand miles away, your heart aches for her every day. I wake up craving photos of her on Facebook, or maybe a video text of her doing something silly. I laugh. I cry. I buy plane tickets.

Recently, my daughter-THE MOTHER of this gift from Heaven itself, deviously ramped up the frequency of posts, texts, and Instagram pictures of #mygirlchuck. I had no choice but to get my butt back to NY for some “Charlie-fix” Oh, yeah, and to see Dede and Evan too.

Since I am in training for another Ironman, I naturally had to plan ahead for my workouts. No problem! With a free pass the the YMCA, a sweet rental bike, and the Central Park Half Marathon, I was set.

I arrived on a Thursday evening and navigated the AirTran to the subway, and then walked the last several blocks to my daughter’s apartment. I have finally figured out the subway. Well, almost. I have the E and F trains nailed! I couldn’t wait to see the little monkey, so I practically ran to the apartment.

Charlie was awake and she was so gracious, she didn’t even object when I made her wear the Cabbage Patch hat I had bought for her.

Seriously, woman!

Chuck is a great sport, and for the next 3 days, she put up with all of my smooches, cuddles, and squeals of delight. The weather in New York was perfect for getting out and seeing the sights. After my swim at the YMCA on Friday, Dede and I took the princess for a long walk around Manhattan. We met up with Evan after work and cut through Central Park on our way home.

Da girls

What’s up, Chuck?

This is me taking artistic photos

Poor little Charlie was teething while granny was visiting, so she had a few rough nights. Two teeth in one week is a lot for a little girl!

Saturday morning was incredible. The sun came out and temps got up to almost sixty degrees. I rented a great bike and went for a nice 32 mile bike ride along the Hudson River Greenway.

George Washington Bridge!

New York City!

Riding a bike in New York is a little insane to say the least. Dodging taxis is a skill I never knew I needed. I’m fairly certain it is not one I hope to use often.

After my ride, and a much needed shower, Dede, Charlie and I walked to a place called Sweetgreen. OH MY FREAKING WORD!!! I ordered something called Spicy Sabzi, a cavernous bowl of spinach, kale, broccoli, raw beets, carrots, sprouts, basil, roasted tofu, quinoa, and some spicy dressing. I think it weighed 7 pounds. I ate the entire bowl. Burp.

Doin’ lunch NY style

We walked around for another hour or so, and then I decided I should get back, put my feet up, and rest for my half marathon the next morning. The weather report called for a chilly morning, so just to be on the safe side, we ducked into a Goodwill store, to buy a “throw-away” jacket, to get me through the start of the race. I would ditch it sometime early in the race.

The balmy weather changed overnight. Just my luck. I awoke to sub freezing temperatures and up to twenty five mph winds. Hahhaa, really? I did my normal morning routine-breakfast of hot tea, a banana with peanut butter and shredded coconut. The wheelbarrow of kale and raw veggies I had for lunch the day before started to feel like a bad idea. Let’s just say, I waited until the last minute to call an Uber.

I got dropped off on the West side of Central Park at W 96th. SWEET JESUS it was freaking COLD! Frost bite cold, and windy as ever. There was nowhere to hide from the arctic blast. People were gathering and jumping up and down, trying to keep warm. Where were the bathrooms? How can you have a race without porta potties???? I was told to walk North and I’d find them. They were about a half a mile away. The lines were typical for a race, and I feared being late for the starting gun. No worries, I made it in plenty of time. Gathering in a crowd with a few thousand people was the best part of the morning so far. At least in the pack, it got warmer! Thank God for Goodwill and the extra layer of HUGE men’s fleece that I bought.

Frostbite and a grimace for you

9am and we were off. I felt great! I guess Ironman training IS working. The West side of the park is the hilliest and that’s also where the wind was the strongest. This race course went 2.5 times around the upper end of the park, so we ran up Harlem Hill twice. It’s a killer. The first lap was great except that at around mile two, the kale memory started to get stronger. Um. I’m a coach. I know better than to eat ninety seven pounds of roughage the day before a race. I thought about a port potty stop, but the lines were long and I was making good time. Passed another bathroom a mile later, but thought I could hang on. The third bathroom that I saw, I actually pulled over and got in line. Twenty seconds later, I abandoned the line and started running again. “I can hold on for another eight miles!” HELL no I can’t. Unfortunately, there were no more bathrooms until mile 8 or 9, so by the time I had no choice to but to stop, I was doubled over. SIX minutes of wait time before I got to enter the potty. I think I was in there for another six. Mother of MERCY!

I exited victoriously and got back in the race. Now I was freezing again, after having such a long break. I still had that ugly black jacket on, and was grateful for it! The rest of the race was non eventful, but overall, I felt pretty good. I worked hard and finished strong. Dede and Charlie were there to cheer me on at the finish line.

I opened the coat so my bib number would show and they could call my name at the finish. Vanity, I know.

Dede had dry clothes for me and we started walking home, looking for a place for me to change. I started shivering like crazy and finally I went into a hospital to get into warm, dry clothes. We walked back to the apartment, which is another mile and a half. Long day!

My sister Terie arrived in the afternoon, and all of us went out to a gluten free Italian restaurant called Senza Gluten that was incredible beyond words. Charlie even sat in a high chair for the first time!

Can’t get enough of this kid

The trip was molto bene. I flew home Monday morning, without any problems, and made lots of memories to hold me over until the next trip. Kids are awesome. Grand kids are the bomb. Life is good.

Ironman. It happened. Part 3

Posted on October 6, 2015 by PattyRan

To convey what went through my mind as I ran my bike out of transition, is as easy as it would be to describe how someone would drink an ocean. One sip at a time? There was an urgency, yet there wasn’t. This was going to take HOURS, so how would I manage that urgency? For reasons mentioned in previous blogs, and more, I hadn’t ridden more than 75 miles in my training cycle. On my new bike, only 30. I didn’t know what was to come, other than the distance. Ironman bike distance is 112 miles. Chattanooga Ironman is 116. Maybe that makes this an “Ultra-Ironman”.

After mounting my bike, I hit the button on my Garmin, and it should have switched to the cycling mode, but it didn’t. I’m so OCD that it drove me crazy to think it wouldn’t track correctly, so for the first mile, I screwed around with the damned thing, ultimately deciding to close down the “triathlon” mode and switch to the “bike” mode. Sure, I lost some time, but at least I got it to work, and then I forgot about it. I put my head down and pedaled on. The first part of the race consisted of a few hills, and several turns, as we made our way out of the neighborhood, and out onto the open road. My bike felt good, and I settled in for a day of sight seeing. Several people gave me advice before I attempted this, my FIRST Ironman. Most of the advice went like this: “Relax and enjoy the experience. Take in every sight and sound, and don’t stress on your time. Just stay in the moment…” I thought I would do that exact thing…..until about mile 5. It was at that time that I sensed the “other Patty” come to life. You might know her. Fiercely competitive. Wickedly insane when she races. Is commonly seen yelling and singing at the top of her lungs while racing. Yeah, that’s the one. “Sister, if you don’t leave it all out here, you will be ashamed of yourself, and beat yourself up for the rest of your life! Get your ass MOVING.” So I did. I didn’t give a crap if I dropped dead.

WOOHOO

The course is 11 miles out, a 47 mile loop that you ride twice, and then 11 miles back into town. There is a 4400′ total elevation gain. My first 50 miles, I averaged 18.41 Mph. the first 30 were mostly uphill. I don’t know how I held that pace up some of those hills, but I did, and I was maniacally happy. I played leap frog with a few cyclists and got frustrated with a few more. At one point, I called out to a guy blocking the passing lane, and I think I scared him. I never saw him again. I hated seeing people in front of me! The second half of the loop is all rollers. When I say rollers, I mean steep, out of your seat on the way up, and short not so steep on the way down. The downhills were never long enough to give you a good recovery. Her’s what it looked like:

Oh sure, the hills look small when spread out like this.

I remember as I struggled up a long, relentless hill, thinking, “Oh God, this is gonna suck the next time around.” I’m pretty sure I shouted that out to a few people as I powered passed them on the way up. I stuck with my nutrition plan, alternating between GenUcan and Cliff Bar Organic Energy food packets. I also had Base Performance Salt in a vial that I tucked into my cycling shorts, and took hits off of that periodically. I took in an average of 110 calories per hour. Everything worked like a charm.

The on-course support was over the top. Volunteers and spectators kept our spirits up, and while I didn’t partake in anything from the aid stations, I made sure to smile and thank everyone as I sped by.

The Special Needs stop was at around mile 56 in the historic town of Chickamauga. People were EVERYWHERE, cheering us on. The efficiency of the volunteers, with calling out our numbers, and directing us to our bags, stunned me. Within seconds after entering the area, a volunteer handed me my bag. I had a brilliant idea of filling it with Fritos Corn Chips and ice tea. The crunch of the salty chips was Heavenly after only consuming liquid and gel-like food all day. The ice tea gave me a nice caffeine boost. I shoved as much as I could handle down my throat and tried not to stop for too long. In minutes I was off again, fueled and ready for another lap. As it turns out, I made a second stop at the next aid station, to use the porta potties. As much as I don’t object to peeing on the bike, I just didn’t want to and quite frankly, felt the need to get off the bike and stretch the legs a bit. There was a line, so I lost some time here. The athlete tracker shows that between mile 50 and 75, I had slowed to 14.86 mph. Stopping does make a difference! I got a little tired at this point too, as the hills were starting to hurt.

OK, this might just suck right about now.

Why are you taking my picture?

I got a second wind and between miles 75 and 97, I averaged 20.12 mph. I did the second loop and never even noticed that big hill I was worried about! At mile 100, I started experiencing pain in my left knee. Deep, sharp pain. It came out of nowhere, but it had happened at Lake Stevens 70.3, and I was not looking forward to the next 16 miles. I made sure to press my knees in tight to the bike, to take pressure off of the IT band. “One more hour” I kept repeating to myself. OUCH! Oh man, at mile 110 the knee AND foot were now in terrible pain. I had to stop using the muscles in my left leg, and only pedal with my right leg several times, just to give it a break. “Where did this wind come from? Oh God, it’s hot. For Heaven’s sake, I don’t remember this road being so long on the way out!!! WHERE is the freaking finish?” I wasn’t really discouraged though, because I knew I was near the end of the course, and the pain would stop as soon as I got off the bike.

Coming into transition, I dismounted and handed my bike off to a volunteer. Let me tell you, there really is no sane reason to sit on a bike for 116 miles! Time 6:46:22.

As I ran through the transition area, I saw my kids!!! They were yelling and smiling, and jumping up and down. I was on top of the world again.

Heading into the tent to change for the run.

I only had a marathon to run, to earn the title “Ironman”, and nothing would stop me from doing that today!

To be continued…

First 70.3 at 56

Posted on August 24, 2015 by PattyRan

On August 9, 2015, I turned 56. One week later, I competed in my first Ironman 70.3 race. In case you had any doubts, let me tell you. EVERYTHING is possible.

I was excited and nervous for my Ironman Lake Steven’s 70.3 race. My training, with all it’s high’s and low’s got me here, and there was nothing left to do but get it done. Jeff bought me a Cervelo P2 bike two weeks before the race, but I didn’t have time to get a professional bike fit. I rode it for several days and I started feeling comfortable using the aero bars, and felt completely confident.

I call her Sylvie

We stayed in Mukelteo, Washington, about thirty minutes from Lake Stevens. The alarm went off at 4:30 am and we planned on leaving my hotel at 5. I had already checked my bike in the day before, so I just had my transition bag full of crap to carry. Jeff was an absolute doll. He did everything for me! (I’m still getting used to being with a man that insists on carrying my bags for me.) I tried not to go over my list for the millionth time, but I couldn’t help myself. All my liquid nutrition was mixed the night before, and set in the cooler.

It was a chilly morning, with a lazy mist on the lake.

The air temperature was in the 50’s but the water was 69 degrees, and I couldn’t wait to get in so I’d stop shivering. My wave-the old gals, was the last to enter the water. In the final moments before all my races, I shut out the surrounding noise, go deep inside my head, and meditate quietly on what is about to happen. In those moments, just before the swim, I undoubtedly ponder the same thing EVERY time: “Oh God, now that water is full of pee.”

I jumped in and waited for the gun to blow. As soon as it did, the churning began. It was quite civil, however, and only lasted a few minutes. I immediately saw the buoy line, and rejoiced. I’d never done an Ironman event before and had only heard about this line. WOW, did it make a difference. Especially on a morning like this, with the line of bouys being hidden in the fog, it was amazing to just keep my head down and follow the underwater line. I had to maneuver around a few other people several times but never lost sight of the line. When I exited the water, I felt GREAT, like I could have swam forever! 1.2 miles done.

those are “goggle eyes”, not bags!

My transition to the bike was quick and uneventful. I remembered to down a bottle of GenUcan, ran to the exit, and mounted my bike. Off I went, feeling like a rock star. It was only minutes into the ride that I realized I was cold. No big deal, I’ll warm up shortly. The weather report called the upper 70’s, so I was not at all concerned. What I hadn’t thought of was the fact that it was only now 8:00 am, and the first 48+ miles of this bike ride was on winding mountain roads, in the forest, so there were little to no sun breaks. Within the first half hour, I was so cold that my feet started to cramp. Then the shaking started. “How is this even possible?” I asked myself. I’ve done this for (only) three years and am NEVER cold on the bike! Try as I may, I could not stop shivering, and a few times shook so badly, I nearly tipped the bike over. The second thing that happened was stomach cramps. I was dutifully drinking my GenUcan, but nothing was able to leave my stomach, because my body was tensed up, fighting to get warm. All my muscles clenched tightly the entire ride. I tried sitting up and changing body position, but nothing helped.

I always smile for the cameras

Beside the cold, I experienced pain in my knees and IT Band at mile 15. This was completely unexpected, but I now know that it was due to the fact that I hadn’t had a custom bike fit. The ride became horrendously painful and nothing would stop it. The hills only made it worse. I can handle a lot of pain, but this just about dropped me. My ONLY thought on that ride was “GET THIS OVER WITH!” Not a very pleasurable way to spend 56 miles.

The elevation was a bit of a challenge to me. I’ve trained on hills in Portland, but nothing like the one’s around Lake Stevens. I saw people walking bikes up hills, stopped, hunched over heaving, and one or two just standing on the side of the road with the saddest looks on their faces, defeated by the climbs. I was NOT going to be one of those people.

If you’ve read my blogs, you know that I get emotional during races. I cry. I cry when I struggle badly, (especially when I get an asthma attack) and I cry at finish lines. It’s what I do, and I’m ok with it. It’s not a weakness; it’s just how my body reacts to the pressure and the relief. I live a stressful life and have a high pressure job. I balance several “balls in the air”, and maintain an even keel MOST of the time. When I race, I let it all out. This day was no exception. There is one hill at mile 38 that is legendary. First you make a ninety degree turn and then you go straight UP. (For miles and miles…no just kidding- it just seems like it) I knew it was coming and I was ready for it. I got into the small chain before the turn and tried my best not to look too far ahead, so I wouldn’t get freaked out by the length or grade of the hill. Not even half way up, I saw people dropping out. I kept going. I stood up and powered as hard as I could, but began seriously struggling with getting my feet to turn the pedals. In a sudden burst of Niagara Falls, the tears came. Loud, wailing tears. Angry tears. Fierce, from the gut, tears. I didn’t care who heard me because those tears gave me the power for another crank of the pedals. They ripped out of me and pushed my body up that God forsaken hill and along with the ever-encouraging roadside volunteers’ words of support, I mounted that hill and knew I was NOT going to fail today.

By the time I got to T2, I was pretty sure my legs were permanently damaged. (Drama queen, remember?) I dismounted and they immediately collapsed under me and I had to use the bike to hold me up.

56 miles done.

The pain didn’t go away, and this worried me, so naturally, the tears returned. My stomach still cramped severely and the pain in my knees and IT Band was acute and relentless. I managed to get my bike back to the rack and then I fell apart. A volunteer came over and tried to be helpful, and Jeff was just outside the barrier asking me what was wrong, but I didn’t have a clue what to do. “Can I walk? Can I freaking STAND? Holy Crap, can I RUN 13.1 miles? (Insert more wailing)

I finally got my shit together and decided I had to try. I have never been a quitter, and today was not going to change that. Jeff asked me if I wanted him to pull me from the race…..he asked if I was going to be able to go on…..I remember saying “I’ll try.”

So off I stumbled, shuffled, limped, what ever you’d call it, and started the double loop course. The first few minutes hurt badly, but once my legs stretched out, it wasn’t so bad. My gut still killed me but I decided to take it slow and try and relax everything. Funny how things changed. The run was mostly exposed and the sun beat down, keeping it considerably hot. I hated the first loop of this run. I was miserable, felt defeated, and mentally, there was not much to brag about. I walked A LOT. When I reached the halfway point, however, something happened. I DECIDED I was going to have a good finish, and do it with pride because, damned it, I am a BAD ASS 56 YEAR OLD! I picked up the pace a little, walked when the nagging side stitch was too painful, and kept going. I drank one more GenUcan at mile 5, but after that, couldn’t take anything but sips of water. The run course has a few hills, but nothing outrageous. I enjoyed the second loop despite myself and was at that point on a fierce mission!

Somewhere in the last mile or so, I started to smile. I was going to finish a 70.3 mile race. On my own power. Wow. Me! The girl who started running at age 50. A Half Ironman! REALLY? Oh. My. God. My smile returned for the first time in what seemed like hours.

WOOHOO, almost done!

I ran most of that last mile and took a short walk break so that I would be able to run through the finish chute. (which, by the way, seemed like a mile long) I started to run through the chute, when all of a sudden my side felt like my appendix was bursting. Seriously-the worst stitch I’ve ever had. BUT, with all the people screaming, the cameras flashing, and the finish line approaching, there was NOTHING that was going to stop me from crossing that line with a smile on my face.

70.3 done.

My official time was 6:41:10. I did it. I will never forget it. As soon as this photo was taken, I immediately collapsed into the fetal position, laughing, groaning with pain, and shaking with excitement. It took a volunteer about 5 full minutes (at least it seemed that long) to get me upright. She thought I needed medical attention, but I kept telling her, NO, it’s just a stitch. LOL, worst one I’ve ever had, but who cares????

Jeff greeted me with the biggest smile, hug, and “I’m so proud of you” and we laughed, and I reveled in my accomplishment. I did it. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. I gotta tell you, having the support of my coach, SheriAnne Nelson of PrsFit, and of Jeff Kline, I believe I can do ANYTHING.

Life is good with this kind of love. Rock on, people. Go after your goals. It’s never too late. Thinking of starting on your own fitness path? Would you like to do a race someday? Ask me anything you want. I’d love to help and support YOU.

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.

Facing My Fear: Part One (Preparing for My First Open Water Triathlon)

Posted on October 5, 2013 by PattyRan

The most exciting and frightening race event in my vast 20 month athletic career is now several days behind me. All the hype and stress, all the training, all the sleepless nights worrying and dreaming about everything that have gone wrong, are over. I no longer have to stare at Fort Pond, wondering if I will drown, freeze to death, be bitten by a snapping turtle, dragged under by a three foot long Carp, or worse yet, panic during the swim, shit myself and be dragged out of the water, humiliated, by one of the sexy young life guards. Whew! I survived it. No tears. (Well, they would come later as they always do) No vomit. No shitting myself.

Yep, 9 football fields worth of swimming in this.

In September 2012 I ran my first marathon in East Hampton, NY. The day AFTER that, I woke up to find athletes participating in the Montauk Mighty Man Triathlon, right outside my house! At that time, I had no idea that I would ever consider doing a triathlon, much less signing up for this very one. But after having so much fun in the McMinnville Triathlon, I just had to sign up for the 2013 Montauk event. This would be my first open water event, and I had yet to swim in open water during any of my training. YIKES. Unleash the fear factor! You see, I have an overwhelmingly inappropriate fear of open water. This makes no sense at all, since I grew up on Long Island, was a beach life guard, and spent many a summer swimming all day and night in the deep waters of the Long Island Sound.

I just know this was underneath me every time I swam

I purchased a wetsuit, endured a few evening swims in the Clackamas River with the Portland Triathlon Club, and off I flew to NY. The amount of crap you have to pack for an athletic event is nothing short of insane. I don’t think the settlers on the Oregon Trail packed this much!

The bag on the left had my athletic gear. The bag on the right had everything else I needed for a 3 week trip.

My vacation in NY lasted 21 glorious days. The Triathlon was 19 days into the trip. That left a ton of time to train on the race course and get my open water experience to the point of being comfortable. Theoretically. It didn’t.

Warm, sunny days are common in the Hamptons in September. So are cold, cloudy, and windy days, however, as I was soon to experience. The first day of the trip proved to be in the upper 70’s and my childhood BFF Dede, who happens to be a fish in human form, was visiting us. She practically held my hand and stayed in the water with me for my first official Atlantic Ocean open water training session. I was pretty freaked out and imagined all manner of sea creatures lurking beneath my wet suit clad body, so while Dede leisurely swam a mile or two out in the deep water, I clung to the shallows, where I could touch the bottom with my hands. I figured the sharks would feast on Dede, and I could just stand up and run the two or three feet to the shore for safety. WIMP! I had three of four other swim workouts planned over the next few weeks, and I tried a few different beaches, but never got over my fear of being the only one in the water-or on the whole beach for that matter.On one particularly windy day, I squeezed my body into my wetsuit, drove to Navy Road Beach.

This is Navy Road Beach on a CALM day.

The usual calm bay had white caps and two foot waves crashing on the shore. I stood there for about three minutes before I turned around, got back in the car, and headed home. I think I poured myself a stiff drink and contemplated withdrawing from this race. Big Baby!

Part of being a real Triathlete means you have to learn to ride a bike with clips for pedals. This has always terrified me, but I decided to buy some cycling shoes and clips and bring them with me to Montauk, to train. My intention was to have them installed on the bike I keep in Montauk and then bring them home to put on my bike here. I had forgotten, though, that the bike I have in NY is a big fat Hybrid bike.

Big Baby-grocery hauler bike doesn’t fly in a Tri

The guys at the Montauk Bike Shop, Lenny and Pierce, had a few chuckles at my idea and basically thought I was nuts. (I am) They quickly talked me out of it and INTO the purchase of a used beautiful Giant Road Bike.

She’s so purdy

I’m sure this won’t be the last bike I buy. I now officially started training like a “real” cyclist. Cloppy shoes and all.

Cycling training in interesting in Montauk. The freaking WIND! Usually when you ride into the wind, you at least know that when you turn around, the ride back will be glorious, with the wind at your back. Not so here, where Long Island is less than a mile wide and surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean. That wind whips in circles and is ALWAYS coming at you. Suffice it to say that my bike workouts were brutal.

Other than my slacking off my swim training, and struggles with cycling, my running was going relatively well. I stuck to my plan and logged my workouts daily. I also TRIED to keep my nutrition clean and healthy. That mostly went well, except for the excessive amounts of wine, margaritas, and the crazy blended drink called a “Kahlua Banana Banshee”. HEY! IT”S GOT A BANANA IN IT!

I would like to say that my relentless training and vast experience as a competitive athlete prepared me to be calm and confident as the days lead up to this race. Not so. There wasn’t a night that went by that I didn’t spend two to three hours flopping around on the bed, imagining all sorts of horror and drama in this race. Will it rain? Will I crash my bike? Will I cry and shiver, and make an ass out of myself? Time would tell.

I boldly kept on training. Kept on stressing. Kept on imagining horrible things. But somewhere behind all of that, I stayed extremely excited about facing my fears and finishing this race. I’ve had a lot of firsts in the past year, so why stop now. Stay tuned for Part Two-The race. Here’s a preview of that morning:

Good morning athletes!

Running in Muck

Running Through What Life Throws At You

Tag Archives: cycling

Several New York Minutes

Ironman. It happened. Part 3

First 70.3 at 56

Facing My Fear Part Two-Race Day!!!

Facing My Fear: Part One (Preparing for My First Open Water Triathlon)