LIVESTRONG Philly

Whoa, it's Friday and I still haven't posted about the LIVESTRONG ride! (In my defense, I'm on vacation this week and trying to take a break from all things keyboard related.)

I hadn't planned to do this event, but at about the time my cousin died, my EnMu teammate Lori had posted on Facebook looking for others to join her on the 45-mile route. Since I haven't trained for super long distances, it sounded good to me. And with my late sign-up, I worried about raising the required $250, figuring I'd rustle up what I could and pay the balance myself.

So I was pretty stunned when I managed to far exceed my fundraising goal and was able to donate $1,075 to LIVESTRONG, thanks to many of you (including Krista, Kim, Dimity, BettyBetty, Bob, Jenny, Alison, mom & dad, Suzy & Jim, Stacie, Selene, KT, Ruth, Karen, Kris & Tom, Lisa, and Rachelle). HUGE thanks to all of you!!

Lori and I flying the EnMu colors.

Anyway, on to the ride. There's not a whole lot to say, except that it was tremendously awesome to ride side-by-side with thousands of survivors and supporters, and to hear cowbells and cheering from onlookers along the way. It was 45 miles of winding, hilly, bucolic eastern Pennsylvania farmland. Lori and I started way in the back of the pack because we had no interest in pushing to the front of the starting corral. Which meant we spent most of the ride passing people. Which naturally made us feel like rockstars, especially on the climbs. Hehe. :)

We just had to pass this guy. The Ronald McDonald paint job was too hard to look at.
(Yes, I know. Bad form to be snarky on a charity ride. But difficult to resist in this case, especially given the Kona jersey.)

I discovered once again that I feel better and better as longer rides progress, provided that I fuel properly. I also discovered that gels are about all I can deal with when it comes to calories. The crackers I ate midway through the ride gave me heartburn for the last 20 miles. Yoiks!

Lori proudly wore her survivor bib. She's so strong and such an inspiration.

I marked my legs with the initials HNWL and MFZL,
to honor my cousin, who recently lost her battle with cancer,
and my uncle, who is just beginning to fight his.

I plan to do this ride again next year, possibly the 70- or 100-mile route. Major gratitude to Lori, for opening my eyes to this experience and for helping me realize how good it feels to do something positive with my training for someone besides myself.

LIVESTRONG Philly This Sunday!

LIVESTRONG Philly is Sunday. I'll be riding in memory of my cousin Frankie and in honor of my uncle Harry.

Yeah, you probably know this, but just thought I'd mention... The Lance Armstrong Foundation unites people to fight cancer, believing that unity is strength, knowledge is power, and attitude is everything. The dollars and awareness LAF raises inspires and empowers individuals, and makes life better for the millions of people across the globe fighting cancer today.

Please support me as I make a difference in the cancer fight through my participation in the LIVESTRONG Challenge.

I just need a few more dollars to reach my fundraising goal (and if I exceed it, all the better!). Click here. (Search "Leah Flickinger" if the link doesn't automatically connect to my personal page.)

Thanks in advance!

And a huge thank you to those who have already donated! I am continually amazed at the power of the blogosphere to unite like minds and link shared purpose.

Progress

The green iceberg buoy looked far more than 375 yards away this morning as I stepped into the lake for a warmup swim before the Beware of Barracuda Triathlon.

But the water felt warm and comforting sloshing around my legs. I love swimming in this lake, I thought.

Another athlete asked me, "Are you a swimmer?"

I laughed and said, "Ha! No. I only just really learned a couple of years ago. The swim is always hard for me."

She smiled.

And I added, "But I've been doing better lately."

(Because it's true.)

"Isn't it great how far we've come?" she offered.

Yes! It sure as hell is.

I got to experience that revelation in all it's sparkling brilliance today after I dove into the no-wetsuit-allowed swim and just went for it. After I exited the water solidly in the first half of the pack and before the eventual first place overall female. As I ran onto the beach next to another woman in my AG and passed her. As she passed me on the bike and I stayed steady and dusted her on the first descent and never saw her on the bike course again. Even as she passed me on the run and I knew I'd been thisclose to winning my age group.

And for the sweet victory of coming a long way, I received my first-ever-in-my-life trophy. Second AG, in a close race.

A damn sweet victory indeed.

A prize with a fierce-looking fish on it!

Racing, PRs, and Parental Angst

This past weekend was full of ups and downs. Friday night was the corporate challenge at the velodrome and, while Team Rodale beat last year's time, we didn't make the finals. (Last year we made the podium in third place.) That said, we were one of the only teams without a professional "ringer" and this year that put us at a distinct disadvantage, especially given that some of the teams seemed to have more than one. (The team that won featured "the most-decorated American track cyclist" and I swear one other pro type. I could be wrong...) But whatever. We were proud of what we did and we can live with ourselves.

Prerace at the Valley Preferred Cycling Center.

Saturday morning Willa and I woke up crazy early to head up to Hazleton, PA, for the Beware of Barracuda open water swim races. I've done the 1650-yard race for the last two years. Readers of my Women's Health blog will remember how hard it was for me the first time, and that I finished second to last with a time of 40:xx and still won my age group.

Last year I finished in 30:35, took second AG, and was thrilled beyond compare to not have a major freakout in the water.

This year, I'm pleased to report that I shaved another 3:05 off my time, didn't freak out at all, and was even able to "race." I had hoped to break 30:00 this year, and as soon as I started swimming, I knew I had a chance. I felt strong and sure in the water, and didn't allow any negative thoughts to jeopardize me.

I was able to swim in a pack without worrying about being kicked, I drafted, and I surged in the last 300 or so yards to pass two people before crossing the finish line. My time was 27:30 and I was cooked afterward. My arms and shoulders were screaming. Slightly embarrassing to admit, but I have never swam that hard in a race. I'm overjoyed with my performance and hope that it signifies a real breakthrough for me. Panic during the swim has been my major limiter in races and I'm so over it! (More on the swim races later in the post.)

Schwimmenflugel!
I'm always entertained by these buoys for some reason.
(This picture is especially amusing because they look like, well... Heh.)

And Sunday my friend Rachelle finished her very first triathlon, which was so exciting to watch. It was especially gratifying because I had done some training with her on the bike, including one rainy ride when I "strongly suggested" she soldier on because "what if it rains on race day?" It did rain on race day (shocking, I know) and I was happy to have helped her with what turned out to be a key workout.

Rachelle heading out of T1.
I wish I looked this happy during races!

But back to the Saturday swim races for a minute. Overall the weekend would have been fantastic had it not been for the 200-yard race on Saturday that Willa and I were both signed up for.

Last year the RD divided racers into two groups for the 200: under 14 and 14+. This year he did not. Which meant 10-year-old Willa and I (and numerous other adults along with kids as young as 6) lined up together on the starting line.

We got the "go" signal and, as with most swim starts, the melee began. I watched to make sure Willa was OK. She was swimming and sighting and making forward progress. For a moment I thought maybe I should hang with her and we could get the finish together. But the 200 is a mad dash, and I wanted to go, go, go!

In a split second, I considered Willa's performance in the triathlon last year, at the same lake, where she kicked butt in the swim. And that was the deciding factor. I took off. Roughly three minutes later, I hit the dock at the finish and whipped my head around to look for Willa. Kid after kid came in, but not Willa. I glanced out to the turnaround buoy, thinking maybe she was still making the turn. No, not there. And none of the kayakers seemed to be spotting a wayward swimmer. The last kid came in and it wasn't Willa.

My heart plummeted. Could she have gone under and not caught anyone's attention? Erica ran to the shore while I stood on the dock and scanned the water. Moments later (it felt like hours) Erica appeared with Willa. I grabbed my daughter, squeezed her hard and kissed the top of her head, breathing her in.

"I got scared and I had to get out of the water," she said. "I swam out as fast as I could. I cut my toe on the dock before the start and then I saw a cage under the water and it scared me. I couldn't catch my breath."

I quickly said, "You made the right choice and I'm proud of you for knowing what you needed to do, and for doing it."

Her disappointment was palpable, the corners of her mouth beginning to turn down, tears gathering in her eyes. My first thought was to salvage the day so she'd want to try this race again someday. She loves to swim, practically lives in the water. I wanted her to see how it was a success rather than a failure. And she amazed me when she said, "I think I want to do the triathlon next weekend [same one as last year, at the same venue]. I did better in that race." My girl, already trying to vindicate a disappointing performance.

She has since reconsidered the tri next weekend. (She doesn't want to do the run!) And I have since gone through major angst over my decision to swim away from her. Why didn't I just swim alongside her to the finish? Why did I swim off? Was a PR in a stupid local race really that important? No.

I've been feeling like a serious contender for Bad Mom of the Year. Ugh.

But during the last few days my thinking has evolved. If I've learned anything since becoming a mom, it's that kids need a chance to own their experiences. If I had swam with her, it wouldn't have been her race, her decision, her success or her failure. And she might not have had the opportunity to learn that she is strong and capable of making sound decisions.

So I'm at peace with what went down on Saturday. I did get a PR in a stupid local race, and she got a big lesson on taking care of herself.

My sweetie, focusing prerace. I'm so proud of her.

Racing in the Rain

I'm not sure why I signed up for the Patriot's Half Lite Triathlon in Bath, PA. It wasn't on my list of must-do races. I waited until the day before to hand over my check. And with its 1300-meter swim, 38-mile bike, and 7-mile run it's out of my comfort zone.

But since the only other tri I signed up for this year got turned into a du, I've been wanting a chance to test out my swimming. Plus with half-marathon training under my belt I have a pretty good base for a longer distance race.

So Sunday morning I jumped out of bed as soon as my alarm went off at 4-freakin'-30. Actually, I got out of bed to look out the window and make sure that horrible sound I was hearing really was torrential rain and thunder.

Turns out, it was. But for some reason, I was on autopilot (or in major denial) and continued with my morning pre-race routine, loaded up the car, and headed out.

The rain seemed to clear a little as I got closer to the race venue. But as soon as I had my transition set up, the skies opened up again. More booming thunder. More lightning.

A few minutes before the sprint start, the race director announced the swim was to be replaced with a 2-mile run.

Ugh. I said I liked the duathlon in Philly, but not that much! Add to that some typical pre-race stomach issues and my mood really began to nosedive.

Between my upset stomach and rushing to get a warmup in, I didn't have a chance to eat my pre-race gel and then I nearly missed the start. (Nothing against Pirahna Sports, but last year I did a race of theirs and nearly missed the start too. I'm not a miss-the-start kinda gal, so I'm thinking it has something to do with the race organizers. I'm just sayin'...)

So, two miles. Shoulda been easy. I shoulda been fired up.

Nope. I had nothing. I had to book it to the starting line and in the very back when I heard the "Go!"

I don't think I passed anyone. Last? I was going to come in last to T1? I'm no speed demon, but I never come in last! More ugh. The run was mostly on a gravel road, which didn't help. And was pretty much uphill the entire way back.

Running into T1 I saw Erica and told her I wasn't having fun. She was saying, "The course is long. Everyone is saying that." And I'm laughing to myself thinking, "Huh? But I'm still almost last. It doesn't make a difference how long the damn run is!"

But anyway, as my feet literally sank into mud with every step, I told myself I would try one loop of the three-loop bike course and if I was miserable I could quit.

I got on my bike and immediately commenced with being miserable.

I tried to pass people, but it was hard. My legs had nothing. The course was hilly almost from the beginning and I was still fuming about the run.

Then I remembered my nutrition plan and sucked down a Double Latte Powergel. Mmm.

Yes!

I began to regain my focus and could feel the energy bubbling back through my bloodstream. This is how you're supposed to feel. And then I began picking people off. It was a slow process, but I did get by a good number of people, which made me feel a little better about things.

At the end of the first loop I passed by Craig, Erica, and Rachelle all bundled up in rain gear cheering their lungs out (totally badass cheerleaders on a less-than-perfect day for spectating--thank you guys!). I had truly expected to stop at that point and call it a day, but as I wizzed by them, I thought maybe I could try one more loop. I continued with the Double Latte gels and during the second loop my legs started to come back.

And then the rain gods totally let loose. The only way it would have been wetter was if they hadn't canceled the swim. It was raining so hard that it poured down the front of my helmet and into my eyes and mouth. For a while I was getting enough water in my mouth I think it counted as hydration. And in some ways, the rain did energize me. The experience became an adventure, the elements something to rally against. As I've said before, I have little fear on the bike and riding in the rain is a non-issue for me. I didn't take any huge risks, but I didn't let it slow me down either.

I will say this about Pirahna Sports, even though there was some confusion at the start, the bike course was extremely well marked and there were volunteers at every corner pointing the way. I began to look forward to seeing them during each loop. This is a small race to begin with, and a good many who signed up did not start. So there were times on this course that I felt totally isolated, to the point where I wondered if maybe they'd shut down the race and hadn't yet come out to find me. Anyway, so it was reassuring to see the volunteers at every checkpoint. It's hard enough to race in the rain, but to stand and point in a downpour for 3 hours takes a special kind of person.

By the end of the third loop the hills that hurt during loop 1 felt easy, and when I got to T2 I was thinking I could ride forever.

Once I had my running shoes on, I had to remind myself to keep moving. I could feel the rapid onset of "race brain" spaceout.

But my legs! They felt amazing! I couldn't believe it. I mean like super-fantastic. Not that I was churning out 7-minute miles or anything, but I had energy and they felt springy and I felt strong and happy. I was even smiling for a good portion of the run, with my arms out taking it all in. Some guy even told me to "keep smiling!"

The miles went by quickly and I had enough energy to really rocket through the finishing chute. At least that's what it felt like. I was probably hobbling at that point, but who cares. This was certainly the most satisfying finish I've ever had in a race. I ended up with third AG, but with only 27 women finishing, I think we all got a medal. And we damn well deserved it!

I'm thinking longer distances are the way to go for me. I've never felt progressively better throughout a race.

Or maybe I just need rain?

First bike loop. At least I got a decent picture out of it.