It's On Like Donkey Kong ... Less than 100 days

When reviewing the calendar, I was astonished to discover that Ironman Chattanooga is less than 100 days away.  I've added a countdown clock to the blog so "we can all freak out" for the same reason.

I'm not sure there is anything else to add.  "It's on like Donkey Kong!"

A Selfish Reason to Race?

I have often said that "Forty is where things started to get really good."  I got a bit more comfortable being me.  My running took off.  I have run Boston - twice; achieved "Streaker" status at the Breast Cancer Marathon - #RunDonna.  And ... I found Triathlon.  As I near fifty, I can only imagine how much better things can be.

 

I haven't "raced" triathlon at a level worth calling competitive since I kind of fell into the sport as "support and sherpa" for my older son, the one I refer to as #KonaKid.  He started in youth tris and then jumped headlong at the age of 12 into "adult sprints."  I followed along because I was a "momma hen" and didn't want my baby chick on the road with all those scary grown up athletes.  It wasn't long before he had proven that he could hold his own and make those "scary" grown ups chase him down in order to beat him at the finish line.  Yes, I have some great finish line stories.

In the early years:  2008 - 2010, I would wait on the beach (forfeiting a finish time) for my Boy to get out of the water, and then off we would run to T1 for the rest of the race.  At that time, I could beat him on the bike and get a decent lead on the run.  He always caught me on the run.  #LittleSnot  He always placed high enough in his age group to qualify for USAT Age Group National Championships, but was not able to participate due to age rules at the time.  

Not too long after, once I knew he was good on the course, I actually began participating in the entire event.  Eventually, I swam a little; finagled a somewhat decent bike; and worked a bit on running off the bike.  I did one sprint.  Then I jumped to 70.3.

2013, a year after my first 70.3 ("half ironman"), the bar was raised significantly by my #KonaKid when he raced his first and second 70.3 within 2.5 months of each other and both under five hours.  The announcer at the finish line of his second 70.3 (Ironman Honu 70.3) called him a "Brat" and the grandparents immediately dubbed him #HonuBrat.  A few hours later at "slot rolldown" he was on his way to Kona for the Ironman World Championship.  Four months later, October 2013, he was the youngest competitor on the Ironman World Championship stage.  In 2014 he raced in the USAT Age Group National Championship securing a place on Team USA for the 2015 ITU World Championships.  It was a busy three years for him.

A couple of months ago my #ChooCrew training partner and I decided to add a challenge to our season with a late season 70.3 at the USAT Long Course National Championships. My thought process was I have a slim chance of maybe, just maybe, qualifying for Team USA and the ITU Long Course World Championships than I do at qualifying for the ITU International/Olympic Distance World Championships.  

The notification that I qualified for USAT Age Group National Championships was a welcome pat on the back, despite knowing beforehand that I would not go to Omaha, Nebraska.  And, it brought out the "honest realization" that my desire to race the LCNats was more than somewhat selfish.  I wanted to be able to say that my Boy was not the only Abbey to qualify to race on the world stage.  Is it wrong?  Probably so.  Does it lessen my desire to go and possibly garner a spot on Team USA?  No.  Will I lay off the intensity of my training?  Nope.  My coach would NEVER allow that.  Am I looking forward to a new type of race atmosphere?  Definitely.  Racing in a different country?  You bet.  But, that is later.  For now, one thing at a time.  Ironman Chattanooga.  Then, USAT LC Nats.

Building Athletes and Finding Finish Lines

Last year ended extremely well, athletically speaking:  a PR in the 140.6 distance, a third invitation to the best amateur team out there - Big Sexy Racing, a second "c'mon over" by Honey Stinger to bee in the 2016 Hive, and a couple of new opportunities to be a bit more involved with a couple of product lines that I have liked and utilized for several years now.

As 2015 drew to a close and 2016 dawned anew, I submitted an application to CycleOps (owned by the Saris Cycling Group) to become one of their Brand Ambassadors.  I knew the number chosen was going to be small, and I really did not think much more about it.  The first week in February, true to the application information, the Ambassadors were announced, and I was among them.  We are only about a month into the "life" of this group, and the training and communication thus far are exceptional.  I am pleased to say that the three brands (PowerTap, CycleOps, Saris Racks) are all products that I can fully get behind and am proud to say that I currently own and use, or will very shortly.  With that successful addition to the training and coaching arsenal, I thought I would take a chance on applying with my all time favorite compression gear company:  CEP Compression (MEDI USA).  Again, with athletes such as Meb Keflezighi, Michelle Vesterby, and Andy Potts on their roster why oh why would they add a "stay-at-home-mom-turned-legal-assistant-turned-age-group-ironman" to their list?  But, they did.  And, my excitement for 2016 then hit a new all time high.

It was as I was chatting with one of my friends and athletes the other night, a little bit of reality sank back in.  She told me that when she trains her driving force is me.  She said, "I want you to see me at the finish line and think, 'I built that.  I created this athlete.' "  But, that's not the point.  I tried to explain to her that it's not MY finish line she is looking for, it's hers.  It is her life she is reclaiming.  Her inner turmoil she is over-coming.  Her demons she is slaying.  I'm just there as a guide; a voice of reason; a reminder (sometimes not so gentle) of what needs to be done to get to the finish line.

I have no desire to be the reason OR excuse for any one's success or failure.  As a coach, I repeatedly tell athletes that I am merely a guide, resource, tool in their tool belt on THEIR JOURNEY to the finish line.  I remind them that I can offer them all of the necessary tools, but I cannot do the work for them.  If they choose to not do the work, it is on them.  However, in that process I will be their strongest advocate, loudest cheerleader, and most single-minded person for their success they know.  Thus, I am constantly amazed, surprised, and in awe of what hurdles can be leaped on the way to success.

I am excited to reap the benefits of working with some of the absolutely most fabulous products available to endurance athletes world wide.  I am anxious to see what my friends, athletes, and BSR team mates "throw down" this year in training and on the race course.  I greet each sunrise with a renewed sense of hope and anticipation for what the day holds.  

You are only promised today:  grab it with both hands and make it yours.

The Third Time's The Charm (B2Bx3)

7:30 a.m., Saturday 26 October 2013

Terrified.  Freezing.  "It's my birthday."  Anxious.  Terrified.  "What have I gotten myself into?"

8:34:02 p.m., Saturday 26 October 2013

I'm an "Ironman!" Tired.  Freezing.  Exhilarated.  Hungry.  "I can't move."

7:30 a.m., Saturday 25 October 2014

Anxious.  Not quite so cold.  Not quite so frightened.  "I know what's coming.  I can do this."

8:03:59 p.m., Saturday 25 October 2014

Finished.  Super stoked about my swim.  OK with my ride.  My transitions were tons better.  Disappointed in my run.  30:03 minute PR

7:30 a.m., Saturday 17 October 2015

Ready.  Shivering.  Ready.  "Let's do this!  Play me that Eminem song.  I'm ready to go!"

The sun rises behind me, and I turn into to for the Star Spangled banner, which is being sung by one of the racer's family (who I will later see on the course at least 10 times).  I'm shivering, but not freezing.  We are called into the swim start corral, and I wait anxiously for Eminem to blast from the speakers:

Look, if you had, one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted. In one moment
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?
Yo

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down,
The whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up, over, blaow!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no
He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that but he's broke
He's so stagnant, he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again, yo
This whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go (go)
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime (yo)
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go (go)
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime (yo)
(You better)

The soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, homie grows hotter
He blows. It's all over. These hoes is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows
He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da da da

No more games, I'm a change what you call rage
Tear this motherfucking roof off like two dogs caged
I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed
I've been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage
But I kept rhyming and stepped right into the next cypher
Best believe somebody's paying the pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the
Fact that I can't get by with my 9 to 5
And I can't provide the right type of life for my family
Cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy diapers
And it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life
And these times are so hard, and it's getting even harder
Trying to feed and water my seed, plus
Teeter totter caught up between being a father and a primadonna
Baby mama drama's screaming on her
Too much for me to wanna
Stay in one spot, another day of monotony's gotten me
To the point, I'm like a snail
I've got to formulate a plot or I end up in jail or shot
Success is my only motherfucking option, failure's not
Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go
I cannot grow old in Salem's lot
So here I go it's my shot.
Feet, fail me not
This may be the only opportunity that I got

You can do anything you set your mind to, man 

Then, we're off and into the Banks Channel - 2.4 miles from the ladders at the Sea Path Marina.  I know that one of my besties is looking for a sub-50 minute swim and I also know that she will get it.  This swim is fast - even I have gone under an hour in the past.  I am hoping for a second sub-one hour today.

This is the first open water RACE DAY swim where I feel in complete control of everything:  my stroke, my breathing, my pace, my sighting - everything.  There's a chop on the water, and I don't internalize that it means there will be wind on the bike until later.  I reach the ladders in 58 minutes and the timing mat (after strippers and showers) at 1:00.  I'm out of T1 and on the bike in just about 1:09.  I feel good so far.  I have not swallowed a ton of salt water, and I already have the first bite of my favorite Kidz Z Bar going down.

The bike is tougher than I had hoped.  112 miles of wind and a nice stretch of "this is not pleasant for the girl parts" bumpy pavement.  But, everything on the #PinkPanther stays in the racks and bolted on.  The bike and wheels feel great, and I keep wishing that they will time travel me to the finish in a bike course PR.  Not so.  The wind does a number on me for the first 70 or so miles, but I come into T2 only two minutes slower than the year before where I felt little to no wind.  In this case, the gear was definitely worth the investment as I am sure that the carbon bike and race wheels kept me rolling forward at a pace that allowed me to recover some of what might have otherwise been lost due to the wind.

I roll into T2 and manage to NOT fall over.  I grab my Garmin off the bars and shuffle to the hook where the bag holding my running shoes, visor, belt, and bottle is waiting.  I make a pit stop in the Ladies' Room and head out the door in about 5 minutes.  Not blazing, but not awful considering...

The run begins as I expect based on the previous two years.  Then, I am directed to turn where I'm not ready to turn.  I say out loud, "What? What?  This isn't the right way?"  But, I go with the flow, and am pleasantly surprised by the change(s) in the run course.  More spectators, more things to keep your mind occupied, more lights once the sun begins to go down.  I'm at about Mile 2.5 when I see fellow Big Sexy Brad coming towards me as he is rounding out his first loop of the run.  We cheer, stop, hug, high five, totally hold up traffic, and then are on our merry ways.  At not quite Mile 3.5 I see my girl Marci who looks like a rock star and is moving right along headlong down the hill in my path.  More hugs, love and joy shared and then off.  The midpoint turn around on this course is "Kona" and I look forward to it in ways only 140.6 racers understand.  7+ miles done and I'm on my way to back to the Special Needs pick up.  I see Marci again (on her second lap) at approximately my Mile 10.  She is hurting, I can tell.  Her hip has decided to remind her it is indeed attached and has made her pay attention in a not so happy-go-luck manner.  She's tough.  She'll super star through it.  I'll see her at the finish.

Thinking that Brad will be pretty consistent on his second lap, I start looking for him at my Mile 1ish.  I don't think I actually see him until closer to 15, maybe 16.  He looks good, high fives me and promises beer at the finish.  ;-)  I'm cruising, not fast, but consistently, toward Mile 17.  I am just in front of the "Biker Bar" on a "regularly scheduled walk break" and realize that a beer would taste AWESOME.  I guy in front of the bar hands me a bottle, I take a huge swig, and then there is Marci again.  She's in tears disappointed that she missed her "perfect" race goal.  I hug her; tell her I love her; and remind her that she is going to finish, and that I'll see her soon.

By now my run pace is slowing some, but my overall is still in the 4:20 - 4:30 marathon finish time pace.  I'm trying not to be disappointed that I won't PR the run (4:26 in 2013) by telling myself that I can still PR the race.  I am drawing on so many other people's trials and tribulations:  Grayson, Cheryl, Jackie, Eric, Kathy.  "I will NOT give in.  I will NOT give up.  I will NOT quit. They didn't quit. They don't have the option to quit."  There's the turn around.  Only one 10K to go.  I.  Can.  Do.  This.  I.  Will.  Do.  This.

A mile and a half from the finish, there is a racer wearing a Marine Corps jersey - walking, head hanging.  I can't tell if he is active, retired, or just a supporter of the military.  I yell at him, "Ooooh Rah!  I don't have cash to buy you dinner, but I'll run you in.  Let's go:  3 and 1.  You've got this!"  Off we go.  He falls back, then catches back up.  Falls off again, and then he's there.  I come around the last hard right turn towards the finish line.  I see the lights; I hear the announcer; I can almost read the clock.  Then I see that it says 12:19...  I can be there before it turns to 12:20.  And then I'm there...  

7:49:32 p.m., Saturday, 17 October 2015

Finish Time:  12:19:32.  I've pulled off a 14:27 PR.  Now I'm happy.

I Can't Believe It's Over - 2014, that is.

I've been thinking about how to write my Beach2Battleship 140.6 race report for about a couple of weeks now, and I keep running into the same obstacle:  If I write the race report, then the season is officially over.  Bummer, dudes and dudettes!

But, alas, all great things must come to an end, so write this report I will.  But ... starting at the beginning.  Buckle up, it's a long story.

In 2013 when I trained for my first 140.6 (Beach2Battleship) I was working from home.  I had the distinct advantage, pleasure, and flexibility to do any length workout presented on my plan.  Three hour bricks and long swims in the middle of the day were the norm.  My then-coach knows his stuff and prepared me well while completely taking into consideration the other Ironman-in-training in the house at the same time:  my older son who was training for the Ironman World Championship.  My event, because I hesitate to call what I do racing, went well.  I came out of the water slightly ahead of schedule; spent far too long in T1 trying to get the feeling back in my feet and hands (it was 39 degrees outside); rode a very consistent ride in spite of the high winds; and then ran a very pleasing marathon.  I was happy to have finished just over 13 hours for my first 140.6 event.  But, as I rode home, and texting my coach, I was already thinking about the next one.

A few weeks later, in November 2013, I received an exciting e-mail from the Big Sexy Racing Team that I had been selected as a member for 2014.  Oh, Snap!  Game on!  

Flash forward to October, 2014. 

This time around the training was vastly different.  I now had a full time, Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. - 5 p.m. job.  No more three hours bricks and no more two full days off during any seven day period.  There was a lot more very focused interval training during the work/school week, and nearly all of the longer and mid-long sessions on the weekend.  The evolution of the training eliminated one day off completely, and frequently the only day off was a "swim day."  I was more than just a little bit worried about how that would translate on race date and how it would affect the ride, but more importantly, the run.

I felt good going into the weekend.  The taper had done its job and I had been sleeping soundly at night - for a change.  I ate well.  I kept hearing Pete Jacobs say that he believes too many people go into a 140.6 race day "too light."  I feel like I drank my weight in GatorAde on the drive up to Wilmington, North Carolina, yet I did not feel bloated or that I had gone "overboard."  The Super Sherpa Hubby Man made sure that our drive had been relaxing and we arrived near dinner time on Thursday.  We checked into the host hotel, the first thing I noticed was ...

"No wind."  The temperature was above 40, and the buzz in the air was very positive.  Last year, let's just be honest, I was a cross between terrified and scared to death.  We headed to what is undoubtedly our favorite eatery in Wilmington, The Front Street Brewery, for a fabulous sandwich and onion rings.  We unloaded all of our gear, not forgetting any of my race day needs fabulously organized in my Ogio 9.0 transition bag, and hit the hay for some well deserved, uninterrupted-by-teen-age-boys sleep.

Some special people I "took along" for the day.

Friday morning - still no wind and wonderful pre-race conditions.  I was getting more and more excited.  I was loosely monitoring the tide charts for when the incoming tide would be on Saturday.  The nice thing about Beach2Battleship is that the swim is usually timed to coincide with the incoming tide in the channel.  Thus, the effect is much like a wetsuit mandatory, salt water river swim.  My fave!  The day consisted of athlete check- in and packet pick-up; gear bag packing and drop off; and bike check in at T1.  With my race number, locating my rack was a breeze, and knowing that I could easily find my sturdy Quintana Roo Kilo in the sea of race steeds the next morning was more than just a tad relaxing.  Dinner was routine:  PIZZA!  Nothing new during race week.

All numbered and only one place to go...

Race Day Dawns in Wilmington:

I had my coffee, bagel with peanut butter, grabbed a banana, a Bonk Breaker, and a GatorAde and headed downstairs to the shuttle.  Armed with Ruby's Lube, my Infinit-filled bike bottles, wetsuit and Rudy Project Wingspan, I wrapped up setting the bike then skipped over to body marking.  Finished up in T1 and grabbed another shuttle to the swim start on Wrightsville Beach.  Conveniently located about 2.4 miles away.  ;-)

I love this swim start.  Sun rise.  The crowd.  Eminem's "Lose Yourself"

"Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted. one moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?"

This time around, I did get in a quick "warm-up" swim and positioned myself not quite as far back in the pack as I had previously.  I was more comfortable with my ability to swim strong, and negative split the swim.  In 2013, I reached the marina ladders in 1:17 and the transition mat in 1:19.  The mats are about 100 yards beyond wet suit peeling once you get up the ladders on the pier.  This year my time at the ladders was ... drum roll please ... 52:20! Time at the mats:  54:16!  I felt like I could have stopped right then and there and been happy.  (Totally excited until I saw that the fastest female swim was 39 minutes and change.  Sigh...)  My T1 time was less than half of the time I spent last year, including getting my Big Sexy Champion Systems tri top on.  However, that meant I was out on the bike 10 minutes ahead of when I had told the Super Sherpa Hubby Man to be at T1.  I looked and looked for him, and unfortunately did not catch sight of him until just outside T2.

What Mike found in T1

The ride was great!  The course is pleasant, and pretty:  taking an athlete through some wonderful rural North Carolina farm country with some of the most enthusiastically manned aid stations anywhere I have raced.  Number 553, Ruth, rode up on me at about mile 15 (maybe?) and we played Cat and Mouse for the longest time.  This was her first, and she was the first person to point out that my race number was "Freakin' Awesome!" no matter how I had gotten it.  I enjoyed meeting and encouraging her for the next 50 miles or so.  I lost track of her at the Special Needs aid station, but I looked her up to see how she finished.  I was Not Fast.  I'm not fast, so I didn't expect to burn up the bike course.  To my satisfaction, I had ridden my goal pace.  I wound my way down hill into T2 about 20 minutes faster than last year, spotting Super Sherpa Hubby Man right there cheering and happy to see me.  You run up into the convention center at T2 and a wonderful volunteer takes the bike, and you run/walk your way to your run bag and get on the way.  Again, I spent less than half of last year's time in T2 so I was totally stoked.  I had literally jerked on my Newton Gravitys and HeadSweats visor, grabbed my hydration belt and pulled an Elvis.  I left the building.  By my rough, on-the-fly, dwindling math calculations, I figured I was roughly 40 minutes ahead of 2013.  I adjusted my goal to a 12 hour "ish" finish time.  I knew that if I could run on my time from 2013, I had close to 12 hours in me.

The T2 Chute...Mike is just about where I am looking.

The run started out fine, and my first loop was on target for a 4:20-4:30 finish.  Then at mile 14 I took a "stumble" step and stubbed the middle toes on my left foot.  It hurt, but I wasn't broken or gimpy.  Somewhere between miles 16 and 18 is when the wheels started to come off.  I had been running Galloway intervals of 3:1 successfully and consistently up until that point.  However, I discovered that it is a challenge to maintain the goal run pace when the lower hamstring attachments start to seize and then the calves decide to follow suit.  I adjusted my intervals to 2:2 knowing that would alleviate some of the tightness.  I started taking in a bit more sodium and continued on.  I met a ton of great people during the run.  Nearly all of them commented on my race number and wanted to know "how I had managed that."

FYI:  Being assigned the Number 1 bib carries a lot of pressure.  But, it was also a superb conversation generator.  It did ensure that I had people to talk to every step of the 26.2.  I still have no idea how I garnered it, other than maybe it is due to the spelling of my last name:  ABBEY.  A couple of guys and I played leap frog for many miles.  Sadly, eventually both of them fell off the back.  They did end up finishing strong and pleased with their races.

I watched my 12 hour finish slow down to 12:15, and then I saw it creeping down to closer to 12:30.  I was getting discouraged, but I also knew those thoughts and feelings would be counter productive to a successful finish.  I guess it was near mile 23/24 that I re-adjusted my attitude - yet again - and began the DOWN HILL path to the finish line.  Mike, the Super Sherpa Hubby Man, was right there LOUDLY cheering me through the chute.  He got some awesome shots of me under the lights along with me "cheesing it up" at the Finisher Photo Spot.  Again, the BEST EVER finisher item is distributed with a smile and assistance if needed at this race:  soft, comfy, Pajama Pants.  They are a super idea for a cool weather race with what can be a chilly and windy finish line.

Just past the clock.  Still able to pull a strong pace at the end.

Finish time:  12:33:59 - a 30 minute improvement over 2013.  Although, being completely honest, I know all of that was bike and transition time(s) because in my opinion the swim was "freakishly" irregular, and my run totally neutralized the gain from the swim.  I'm happy with it.  I am confident hat the different approach to this year's training did not negatively affect the outcome.  As you might have guessed, I'm already planning 140.6 number 3 in 2015.

2014 was an awesome year of great experiences.

Admittedly, I am anxious to hear if the Big Sexy, Chris McDonald, will retain me for 2015.