quick bits:

(1) My first race of the season is this Sunday.

(2) My 1000 yard TT time this morning: 18 minutes; 58 seconds

(3) Last week, my cruise interval workouts maxed out at 4 intervals of zone 4-5a running for 8 minutes. It’s amazing how long 8 minutes can feel. That is not my favorite workout.

(4) One of my favorite workouts, however, is strides. Last night, I did 8 sets of strides (left leg – 30) averaging between 19 and 20 seconds for each. It was fun. Even more fun? Skipping as a recovery.

(5) We rode the Ironman Wisconsin course on Sunday while in Madison. Granted, we only did one loop. But that 60 mile ride was fabulous. I’ll post more later. I took lots of photos of cows.

(6) I’m sleeping, eating, training and working. I wish there was more time for blogging.

(7) I got so busy, I forgot to sign-up for the Twin Cities marathon. That makes me sad.

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Not much to update. Trying to stick to my training schedule. Work makes that super hard. I’m officially on the participant list for the half ironman. I’m also two weeks away from my first triathlon of the season and that seems really freaky. I also know the weekends are counting down to Bicycle Tour of Colorado. Which will be fun. Which will also kick my ass. Did I mention the peeps we’re going with are crazy strong?

Well. They are.

The summer seems to be coming so fast and furious. And although I have gotten a good base of training in, I’m starting to get nervous and edgy. I’ll be fine. But I can’t also ignore the fact that my workouts in the pool have decreased and my pace has increased. Direct correlation? Um.. probably. I did a steady 2000 yards in the pool this morning non-stop after a 20 minute warm-up and it took me 20:30 — the last time I did it, I was just under the 20 minute mark. Gaining 30 seconds at this point in the season probably isn’t a GOOD thing. Perhaps I’m just tired… We’ll see. It’s crunch time now and I have to make the workouts stick.

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So, Tryna, the crazy dog, had surgery this week. We decided to have her fatty tumor removed. It’s gotten so big her walking was starting to be affected and we figured it was time. We had the whole, “what’s her life expectancy?” talk with the Vet — and we think she’ll be around a while. It’s worth the money.

Anyway. Things were going well. Surgery was on Tuesday. Then, Wednesday night/Thursday morning, Tryna woke us up to her incessant licking. She was pulling at her stitches and going nuts. The surgery area was red, inflamed. Finally, around 4:30 am, it finally occurred to me to put a t-shirt on the girl to prevent her from licking the wound. That morning, I took her into the vet. They said the t-shirt was a good idea. But they also gave us an additional pain medication. Since then, she’s been much better.

And she kind of looks cute in a Charlie’s Angels t-shirt.

That’s about it. Planning on a master’s swim with a teammate in the morning followed by 65 miles of hill riding. Somehow, I also need to find time to read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn The Town That Dreaded Sundown movie download

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. Book club is Sunday and I only have 400 pages to go….

Okay. I finally decided I’d go for it. I’d suck it up and enter my first TT (time trial, that is). And it’s a route I kind of know considering part of it is the same as the Manitou Tri course.

So, I was all set.

Then James calls me this afternoon.

“Salon George called — did you know you have a hair appointment tomorrow?”

Err.

Well, first off: this is what a crazy lack of work/life balance will do to someone. I used to be so good about keeping track of appointments (or keeping track of anything for that matter). But my home desk is a disaster area. The inside of my purse a no-man’s land. When I made my next appointment (which I do always do when I get my hair done) I did nothing after setting the date except for lose the card that it was written on. Oops.

So, now I’m going to miss a time trial because I’m getting my hair done.

How girly is that?!

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Well, since it’s Friday night and I’ve taken off my work-cap and have a nice glass of wine by my side, I figure I might as well recap tri camp for you (although alcohol = training = does it work? umm, whatever.).

Tri camp was, well, tough.

We signed up for the idea at our tri team season kick-off meeting. It was a meet and greet. Our meeting organizer (and tough competitor, not to mention biggest socialista) invited her coach to speak to the group. He’s with SCS Multisport here in town (and races pro for Gear West) and he mentioned a camp that they were putting on for Tri Training. Jen spun it as “super-fun” (I thought she was speaking from experience — but apparently this year was the first one). It sounded like “good training.” And we’d be camping in the real, live out of doors.

A bunch of us were, like, “Yeah! Sure! We’re in.”

Then, as we got closer to the date, more and more people opted out for whatever reasons (work committments, other priorities, etc.). So, when the weekend arrived, it was just me and two other gals from Birchwood.

I was still super-psyched and waiting for super-fun. Arriving, however, I noticed something right away: these kids were FIT.

And not just “gym fit” or “my buddy who is fit” — but WAY fit. Ironman fit.

And Ironman was why.

It turns out we’d gotten ourselves mixed in with a group of Ironman veterens and trainees and I was all, “Holy hell! How did I get here?”

We had to introduce ourselves in a little circle and it was all, “Just came off Ironman Arizona… training for Ironman Wisconsin… My first was Ironman Zurich…” and I’m, all, “uh — my name is Heather.”

It was funny. And a little sad. If not a little intimidating.

Our first run, after we set up our tents and introduced ourselves, was supposed to be an easy 30 minute, 3 mile jaunt. The coaches even said so, “This is relaxed, conversation pace.” But as soon as we started, it was glaringly obviously that “conversation pace” for these kids was “kick-my-ass-I-need-to-run-at-least-an-8:35-mile-to-keep-up.” I was hanging on with an insane heart rate when I checked back on my friend and she was having a tough go at it as well (our other friend is a speedster runner and was totally in front). We finally decided to hang back and let our heart rates lower into a reasonably lower zone 4 (!) at which point a coach dropped back with us and we continued along. Still, the 3 mile jaunt was starting to seem long and as we followed and gasped and attempted to make conversation with the coach, I couldn’t help but think, “Damn, this was the longest three miles I’ve ever run.” I was also silently killing myself for saying to my friend at the start, “Hey! It’s only three miles…”

You see where this is going, I’m sure.

At the end of it, the run was actually 6 miles. We got off course. And, sure enough, wasn’t THAT a way to start Tri Camp Weekend.

I could go into that much more detail for the entire rest of the weekend — but it would take too long (and would probably would get way too boring — if it isn’t already). But, the next day consisted of better predicted distances). We had a masters swim class, a mini tri (800 yd swim / 3.8 mile bike / 1.8 mile run which I completed in 37 minutes), the “three hour” bike ride which amounted to 4.5 hours (ahem, 63 miles) — and some getting lost with two other chicks. By that evening, I was trashed! The intimidation factor did wear off because everyone was very, very nice and friendly. I didn’t feel horrible in the pool because there were some other 1:50/100 yard pacers like myself (luckily, there were additional tri campers who weren’t camping — apparently, the hard core ironmen were the campers) at the masters swim. I did feel a little dead-last during the mini tri considering people were done before I even got on my bike (we were let off in waves because we used a pool). On the bike ride I managed to hold my own.

But that night: I was tired. We went out to dinner together and I just snarfed. We did sit around the fire after — but I hit my sleeping bag hard. It was hard to get up in the morning (even though I was in a tent, in a sleeping bag on the hard ground). But we had a 90-minute run to do at 8 am. The thing is, the 90 minute run was actually a series of the 3-mile loop (and the real 3-mile loop — not the 6-mile version). The faster people would do it four times, the slower 3. But after the really tough day before (and the taxing hill ride) some opted to only do two loops and finish with a loop later in the day.

As we started out, I was amazed at how heavy my legs felt. I wanted to stay in Zone 3 and my normal 146 bpm pace was suddenly slow and taxing. I couldn’t believe how stoney my legs felt at that heart rate. My buddy ran with me and we just took our time. Soon, most of the other runners had passed us. Then, on my third loop, I felt oddly alone. My buddy cut that short (she’d never run 9 miles before so we decided that 7.5 would be a good next step from her longest 6 mile run). It was then that I realized anyone slow like me had only done two loops and I was bringing up the rear.

I took it for what it was. I maintained my pace and patted myself on the back for just being out there. A few miles from the finish, I was actually passed by two ironmen who were doing their fourth laps! (yeah — I know). And when I finished in 1:44, I realized I’d actually run about 10 miles if you considering the out and back. After that, I barely had time to rest and drink my recovery beverage because we had another bike ride to complete.

The “four hour” 84-mile ride suddenly seemed impossible. There was a 63 mile option. But there was also a 35 mile option. And after everything we’d done, I opted for that. It was a long weekend and my legs were tired.

The first half of the ride was gravy. Like I said, I held my own and felt strong with the group. Unfortunately, I didn’t have those same legs on the way back and actually got dropped from the front group on a hill. My friend was dropped too and suddenly the coaches would have none of that. I think my friend and I would have been happy just to take it back to camp at our own pace, but Coach Dan and another guy forced us to work back to the group between drafting and pushing us up hills. It was tough, tough work. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t feel like I had the legs to do it. But somehow it happened and we joined back on. That was probably my proudest moment at tri camp.

After that ride, some other hardcores went out for a final run. I? I opted for the shower.

At the end of the weekend, I’d rode over 110 miles, ran almost 18 and swam.

I also got to spend the weekend with some amazing athletes, get great advice and feel like a pro.

I also got to eat what I want and not care.

Weekends like that don’t happen often.

[Lots of photos here]

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They are fast.

I am tired.

[and after speed work this morning -- I have a very naggy IT band. Time for some Advil and bed.]

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Only, my week went sour. It started okay. I took Monday morning off and spent a ridiculous amount of money on some new jeans. I also slept in which was SUPER nice. Then, work hit me like a tidal wave starting that afternoon (I had to go in even though I took PTO). I managed to make the Hill ride on Wednesday, but my “rest” day on Monday turned into accidental rest days on Tuesday, Thursday AND Friday, too. I tried to make up for it on Saturday with a 2000 yard swim and a bike ride in the wind and rain. But by Sunday, I was a sacked and I actually SKIPPED my 11-mile run.

That’s so unlike me.

Of course, I have an excuse.

I was t-boned on Thursday night.

Yep, that’s right. I said T-boned. Apparently, my bad luck driving continues to exist even though I now take the bus to work 95% of the time. It’s so sad. I’ve probably driven to work only a couple of handfuls of times. But I had to on Thursday. I had an off-site client meeting. Worse, I was driving James’ Beetle because my car was at the shop. And, sure enough, as I was on my way to an evening swim workout with some teamates (and eating my pre-workout Luna bar), I got the green light exactly 1/2 block after exiting the parking ramp where an SUV crashed into the side of my vehicle. He ran a red light. Yet, my car is the one that is trashed.

We pulled over. Exchanged information. Even though, I couldn’t drive, no police would come out to the scene. James & I called a tow truck and went and had a beer.

So, now we’re waiting to see what the damage will be and how the insurance thing plays out. I just hope the driver of the SUV is honest and admits (like he did to me) that he was in the wrong. He ran a red light.

And I’m okay. I should mention that. Even though the vehicle is small, it held up well.

James is sad, though. It’s his yellow Beetle. And we have a stupid smoke-smelling Corolla as a rental. Blech.

So, I’m back to riding the bus. And I’m hopefully back to my workouts this week.

It started with Tri-camp and then ended with a crash. And not exactly the kind that I was betting on.

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