I'm bringing Hell (and sunscreen) with me

I am currently on Week 14 of my 24 week training plan. I am 75 days away from Ironman Arizona. Seriously, where did the time go? Wasn't it just yesterday that I was sitting at work fighting with technical difficulties during registration?

I have a 70.3 race, the Pumpkinman 1/2 Iron-distance tri, this weekend. This race is my "test swim/bike/run", my gut check. This is where I learn if all this training is taking me where I want it to and if I need to step up my game in the final weeks. During this race I am going to make sure that my nutrition is working for me and that I work out all the kinks of transition. This is the race where I hope to finish and say, "man that felt awesome, I can't wait to double that distance in a few months," or "Kevin, you stay here. I feel so great that I will get my own crap out of transition." I know I have done the training up to this point. Hell, I even have a sweet new bike to make me look like I know what I am doing. But deep down I have this dark memory of my first ever 70.3...

2 years ago I competed at the Timberman 1/2 Ironman in New Hampshire. I signed up for the race after only doing 2 sprint tris and 1 Olympic distance (not much by racing standards). I had been swimming regularly with a group of older men at the local YMCA (I liked swimming with them because I felt fast, not because I like old men in speedos). I was confident for the swim. I had also been running on a fairly consistent basis. I had one 1/2 marathon under my belt and figured that made me a jogging queen. Plus, I figured I could always walk if I needed to. The bike, on the other hand, was drastically lacking. I think I rode my bike about 3 or 4 times all summer long before the race. My thought process, "How hard can biking be?".

WELLLLLL.... if you know New Hampshire at all, it is ALL hills. And not nice small rolling hills. They are gigantic, in your face climbers, that make you want to puke your guts out and cry for your mother all at the same time. Or maybe that's how I remember the bike portion because I was so under prepared? I drastically miscalculated my preparation for this race.

I should have known I was in for it when I was headed out of transition onto the bike course and one of the volunteers yelled at me, "Stay to the right because all the fast cyclists are right behind you." I had made good time in the swim and passed a majority of the men's field. But how did that volunteer know I wasn't a fast cyclist? I started examining all the people passing me - I was one of 2 people that did not have clipless pedals and rode with her running sneakers. I was also probably the only person who did not take advantage of the sunscreen volunteer and ended up with a nasty sunburn (yes, it lasted until my wedding in December... and beyond). I remember getting to the 1/2 way point on the bike - a volunteer yelled out "Congrats! Your half way!"and I cried like a baby. I sobbed so hard my shoulders shook and the road was blurry through my tears. I cried not because I was happy I was actually accomplishing this great feat but because I was only 1/2 way and felt like total crap on wheels.

Always remember sunscreen - lesson learned.

Long story short, I made the bike cut-off time (how? I don't know, but I did) and I finished the race (finish time is debatable on whether I truly finished in 8 hours because of my swim wave order). I limped to my family, wheezing. I should have gone to the medical tent but didn't know any better. I wanted to vomit when I ate the clam chowder, and I felt dizzy and cold the entire ride back home. We even made a pit stop at my in-laws house so I could dry heave over the toilet (I bet they don't know that one). I did make it to work the next day. Unfortunately my boss came up to ask me a question and smacked my back - I almost dropped to the floor in pain.

So you ask, why on Earth would I ever sign up for another race like this or a race double this distance if it was such a horrible experience the first time around? There are lots of motivational quotes about pain and fear, pride, and accomplishments. But I heard a pro triathlete make this remark, "There are no decisions on race day." I will not let the memory of pain and fear stop me from moving forward. I made mistakes (a lot of them) and I have learned from them. If I let one race dictate the rest of my life then shame on me.

On Sunday, I'm comin' and I'm bringin' hell with me, Pumpkinman (along with my GU packets, Ironman Perform mix, salt tabs, bike shoes, and SUNSCREEN).

Bad awesome vs. good awesome - Recap of the long weekend.

I love three day weekends. I love them because I have time to do the things I want to do and need to do. Plus, who doesn't love the feeling of not having to go to work on Monday? This weekend was the Great Camping Adventure in the White Mountains for me, Kevin, and the dog. I will admit I am not the world's greatest camper, but I gathered kindling like a champ and became accustomed to the lack of running water.

We arrived late Friday night. As we got out of the car we notice that our site is directly across from another site that had a family of at least 15 with at least 8 kids under the age of 12. Awesome. To make it better they were singing the words to "Dynamite" (or maybe it's "Dyn-o-mite", whatever, it's annoying) and some Justin Beiber song. More awesome. In the middle of the night (lets say 3 AM) the youngest started crying. This happened again at 6 AM when the kid woke up our dog (which meant we were up as well). First thing on the agenda for Saturday... change camp sites.

The nice park ranger gave us another site farther away from the Partridge Family. There was more space for Ellie to run and explore in the mud. And even more exciting was the quiet couple next to us who spent their day mountain biking. Kevin found a short trail not too far from the campground that was an easy hike. We had to find easy hikes because someone forgot her sneakers. (Who forgets sneakers when you go camping?)

Ellie enjoying the view from the campsite

Swim lessons at Dixville Notch.

I think some of my favorite things about camping are being able to sit around the fire, enjoying the view, and drinking beer.

Sunday we decided to see how Ellie would do in a canoe. Let's just say there is room for improvement. I did most of the paddling while Kevin spent most of the time trying to keep Ellie from jumping ship (and taking us with her in the process). New item for the Christmas list: life vest for the dog.

After lunch we went to check out The Balsalms. It is one of the few "grand resorts" left in New England. Driving up to it I am reminded of the movie The Shining. Despite the fact that I think the place is haunted they have some really fantastic walking and biking trails (all of which are dog-friendly!)

Whizzing by The Balsalms

Kevin and Ellie at The Balsalms.

On our way back to camp the skies opened up. Luckily we made it back to our site before the rain hit there. We decided that if we were going to spend the rest of the afternoon, evening, and night in the tent soaking wet we might as well head home a day early. Kevin would probably have liked the challenge of making a fire in the rain and would most likely have befriended the new campers next door (5 guys, 5 canoes, and a cooler of beer hanging out in the rain).

So you ask, "Jen, don't you have an Ironman you are training for?" Yes, yes I do. And no, I did not do anything productive towards my training while we were away. BUT, today I was able to break in my sweet new ride, The MJ Cruiser (that's right, I named my bike), on a 3 and 1/2 hour ride. The seat is awesome. The chain doesn't fall off when I shift - awesome. It has a spedometer to tell me when I need to pick up the pace - awesome. It has red handlebars - AWESOME!

I am gearing up for the Pumpkinman 1/2 Iron-distance triathlon next weekend. If you have any plans to be near South Berwick, Maine on Sept 11 stop on by and cheer me on. Kevin will love the company. Plus, Shipyard Brewing is hosting the beer tent!

Happy National Dog Day!

If you would like to help American Lab Rescue and support me on my journey to Ironman Arizona, please consider a donation.

Ellie and the rest of the pups say thanks!

So a triathlete walks into a physical therapy clinic...

I am a triathlete. I am also a physical therapist. I tend to think I am a pretty good therapist in most instances. I also tend to think I am the world's worst patient. Sometimes I think about how the evaluation would go if I walked into my own office...

Me (PT): What brings you here today?

Me (triathlete): I hurt. Everywhere.

Me (PT): Can you be a little more specific?

Me (Triathlete): My knee hurts when I run but not when I bike - only after I bike after sitting for more than 33 minutes. Also my back, neck, and shoulders hurt when I bike. But not right away - usually anywhere from 56-61 minutes into my ride. Then the pain will disappear for 43-60 minutes and then it returns. My feet also hurt, and I have a gigundo blister on my big toe. Wanna see it? It's pretty gross. But that's about it.

Me (PT): It sounds like you exercise a lot. Are you training for something?

Me (triathlete): Yes, the Ironman. You have 12 weeks to cure me. I have the 100 most recent pages of my exercise log with exact mileage and hear rate readings if that will help you figure out what is wrong with me.


Me (PT): The Ironman huh?... that is impressive. Are you willing to make some adjustments to your training schedule?


Me (triathlete): You haven't even looked at my 100 page log. Why do you want to change it? And no. I will not stop swimming, biking, and running. I need to finish 140.6 miles in under 17 hours so I can brag for the rest of my life. If I don't do EXACTLY what my training plan says to do I won't be prepared on race day.

Me (PT): I'm not proposing that you stop your training. I'm just saying that we might have to tweak it a little to reduce some of the stresses at your joints - maybe some running in the pool and a look at your body mechanics with each sport. Do you stretch?

Me (triathlete): ehh, kind of... not really. I think about stretching. Does that count?


Me (PT): No. Do you weight train?

Me (triathlete): Who has time for that when my life is swim, bike, run, eat, sleep, work, repeat?

Me (PT): Can you tell me what some of your goals are for the race?

Me (triathlete): Sure! I've got lots of them.


1) I want to finish the Ironman in under 17 hours without being swept off the course so I can hear Mike Reilly call my name.
2) I want to get through the bike without a flat tire or getting Gu all over my face.
3) I would preferably like to finish with the need for only 1 bag of IV fluids.

4) I would also like to be pain-free. But I don't think that is possible. So I would at least like to start the day pain-free.


There's more. Shall I go on?


Me (PT): That will not be necessary. I think we have some work to do.

PT assessment: Patient is a triathlete. All hope is lost. She will not listen to one thing I recommend unless I tell her it's OK to buy the ultra-light, super-cushioned, super-expensive running shoe or give her a massage.

PT Plan: Transfer patient to a new therapist. The poor therapist won't know what hit him.

Trek to Pinkberry!

Yes, yes. I have jumped on the Pinkberry train. After a 50 mile bike ride today I treated myself with a trip to Derby Street. (If you haven't been, it is my version of Disneyworld. Well, maybe that's a bit exaggerated... but it is awesome.) Fro-yo, Ann Taylor, and Marathon Sports. What else could a girl ask for?


I went with the watermelon loaded with fruit and gummy bears while Kevin was a bit more traditional with the "original." Dessert before dinner tonight!



And these are my new sneakers from Marathon Sports which I will break in tomorrow with my 9 mile run...

One smart pup

This is a clip from a NOVA documentary. This dog is pretty awesome.

Snot rockets in flight

I have been blowing snot rockets a long time. It started back in high school when I was on the swim team. Sometimes the water goes up the wrong way. Instead of fighting with the chlorine headache (similar to brain freeze but generally less pleasant because you are under water) you shoot that water out as fast as you can. Usually you end up with the chlorine headache anyways so all efforts were pointless. Other times you get sick and your nose is stuffed up. The only way to start breathing again is a good old cleansing of the sinuses. You've heard the expression "sink or swim." I prefer, "snot or swim." If you drink a lot of orange sports drink you can get some funky colors. The chlorine kills the germs. Plus, I know for fact that I am not the only swimmer who does (I mean did) that. Where do you think all those tumble weeds at the bottom of the pool come from? Now that's something to think about next time you are checking out the bottom of your local YMCA pool.

I've taken my talents to my bike. My rocketing balls of slime clear those bugs that flew up the wrong nostril or the dirt kicked up by the speeding pick-up truck. When I first started biking I was not very good at riding one handed (the free hand must plug the nostril that does not need to be cleared), turning my head and launching my snot around my body and to the side of the road. Inevitably it ended up on my sleeve, hand, or face. But now I am a pro (although I still refuse to urinate on myself - I do have standards). I send my snot rocketing over my shoulder without mess or loss of balance. The only thing I really need to check is if there is someone riding up behind me.

A big "sorry!!" to the guy riding out there today. I got him good.

(read: Triathletes. Yeah, we're different.)