Mustard City

The official triathlon schedule is :

Versailles sprint triathlon coming up really soon (seriously, I should be swimming right now instead of writing this!) on May 12!

I'm also doing another sprint tri in early July (July 7th) in Dijon, where I've never been (this is where the mustard is from) and is supposed to be a lovely little city.

My goals are just to survive Versailles, especially the swim (first open water swim) and then to see improvement between Versailles and Dijon. Dramatically improved race times would be nice, but probaby not terribly realistic. It would still be an improvement even if I'm just marginally less terrified of the swim...

Liège-Bastogne-Liège 80K: From a Beginner’s Perspective

First of all, what is Liège-Bastogne-Liège? It's a famous European cycling race. Not having grown up in Europe, I had never heard of it, but my French and Dutch friends' eyes went wide when I announced I was doing it and they informed me that "that's some serious cycling, babe" and ''fais attention à toi, c'est dur, ça."

So how tough and famous is it? Road cycling is a big deal sport in France and Belgium and the pros race 277K and go up lots of impossible hills (Belgium is NOT flat) and the day before, us mortals get  to cycle on the same course and do either 80, 160 or 277km. We don't recieve an official time (only some of the hills are timed, it's more just for the experience of cycling on this famous course). This was my first bike race ever, I'm a beginner cyclist and this is my write up of my weekend away in Liège and the 80K distance, mainly for the rest of my tri team, or any curious friends or family.

It was an inauspicious start. On the way to Liège, we encountered heavy traffic, and roads in terrible condition—little did we know we would have to cycle on them later and both would become staples of our race! When we checked in to our hotel, we were all a little traumatized to realize that there is, in fact, a world of difference between a normal Ibis hotel and a budget Ibis hotel. The ExpaTRIés were definitely not staying the in lap of luxury this weekend, but more like in the lap of the ghetto industrial zone with regulation cell block-sized rooms.

But we tried to make the best of the budget Ibis, at least it was close to the starting line (one of them, anyway—more on that later!) and we were there on a mission: to test ourselves on one of the oldest and toughest courses in Europe that the pros would do the next day.

Before this daunting European classic, many an ExpaTRIé wondered if they’d taken on more than they’d bargained for—and none more so than me, as probably the only beginner cyclist on the team!  The first time I’d ever ridden a road bike was when I showed up for session 1 of Paul S’s excellent ‘7 Weeks to Better Cycling’ class—with no air in my back tire and no real grasp on how physically to change gears! It didn’t help that I’d only started using clip in pedals the week of the race, which as we all know, results in falling over a lot and isn’t exactly a confidence boost before your first bike race!  I had also never cycled 80K before and had only a few days before learned which gears to use for uphill and downhill.

Needless to say, I just wanted to get round, have fun and be safe. Like a lot of the other ExpaTRIés, I was also looking forward to getting out of the city and biking in the countryside where I would be free from worries about clipping in and out.

The morning of the race, it was freezing cold. We wore all the biking clothes we’d brought, but we ended up all being underdressed! We cycled to the start together and then we had to cycle on to the other start line 13km farther into the race (cycling races usually have a 13K warm up, although we didn’t know that at the time). We ended up getting separated here, there were just so many cyclists on narrow streets all following signs to the starting line, but I knew everyone else would do great, I’d figured I’d do most of it alone at my own relaxed (meaning slow) pace.  We biked entirely on city streets and given recent clip in pedal trauma, I kept thinking, “please don’t make me stop on a hill,” and “if I have to stop at this traffic light, I hope there’s a curb I can put my foot on!”  Finally, we crossed the official start line and thought we would finally get out of the city.

There were fairly constant rolling hills, the landscape was thankfully less urban, but still not exactly the countryside we’d hoped for and none of the roads were closed to traffic. The beginning of the course was a steady climb, but not particularly steep. Things went smoothly and before I knew it, I was at the first (and only) rest stop about 35K in. I made sure I knew what direction to take off in again, drank some water and ate some bananas and bars. 

I was shivering when I got back on my bike, the weather still hadn’t warmed up and everyone’s feet were numb for most of the ride. Going downhill into the wind was a whole new level of cold. To my surprise, I ran into Jeff and Frank after the rest stop, both looking strong, who had taken a wrong turn onto the 160K course (no thanks!) and had doubled back. They zipped off to tackle the first hill and it was a nice boost to see some teammates. The first of the 3 steep hills on the 80K course was the worst, the infamous Côte de la Redoute.  This hill was nearly vertical with a 20 percent grade and I was not the only cyclist who ended up walking my bike up part of it… But the worst was over.

The second hill was pleasantly manageable, la Côte de Colonster was only maybe 5 percent and although it was long, didn’t feel particularly steep. This was the only part of the course that was out in the countryside, with cows and fields, exactly what we’d expected. We assumed it would stay like this, but no, we went back into town, to traffic lights and potholes!

After this hill, the course became very urban again, and since it was later in the day, there was more traffic. The worst parts were when we were routed onto the side of the highway (yes, a real highway!) and the last hill, la Côte de St Nicolas was on a busy road with traffic and the requisite Belgian potholes. As a beginner, I wished they had at least closed that one road to traffic.  This hill was also steep and tough because it came so late in our race, around km 75, I think, but it was mercifully shorter than La Redoute. After this hill, my Garmin gave up and died due to a weak battery and I thought I was more or less done. Getting to the finish line took longer than I thought, and here was the only place where the otherwise well-marked course became a little confusing. There was a sign for the finish for the longest distance, the 277K, and I asked other cyclists if that were for us, too, and the general consensus was yes and from then on, we realized we were following signs to the start line and hoped this was the same as the finish line. This part of the course seemed the longest. It was all urban, though the scenic industrial zone and even went very close to the budget Ibis.

Finally, I crossed the finish line and the sun came out, I saw Frank and Jeff at a picnic table covered in what seemed like a Belgian mirage: beer and frites! This was by far the highlight of the entire race! We discovered that we could return our race numbers for a 5-euro refund, which went to cover more beer and frites. We ate, drank and swapped cycling tales and then Seb, the first of the 160K crowd crossed the line, looking strong but ready to be done with scenic industrial zone Belgian cycling.

All in all, the ride was hard, but boosted everyone’s cycling confidence. We also thought we probably wouldn’t do it again, there was general disappointment that the short course hadn’t really gotten out of the city, although the longer courses had. If anyone is considering doing it next year, I would recommend doing the extra training for the 160K for a nicer, less urban course—although you’ll have twice as many hills! For more about what to expect on the longer course, see Kathryn and Paul’s write ups of their eventful rides at http://www.expatries-triathlon.com/blog/. 

 

 

Marathon Recap: from "Unspeakably Awful" to Psyched for the Next One

So the Paris Marathon has come and gone and what can I tell you about it?

I didn't train enough, or have a real race plan. Or know if I could actually finish it.

Until I finished it.

It was tough. Way tougher than the tri team made it sound! I often remind myself that I'm very fit for an ordinary person, although very unfit compared to my tri teammate super athletes. I also have to remind myself that what they make sound easy (like running your first marathon in 4 hours), will not actually be easy or even remotely attainable for me! They all did it in around 3 hours, which is really smoking fast. It took me almost twice as long.

I started out too fast, and I alternatingly ran and walked the last 10K, like everyone says you will. I just didn't feel very confident at the start of the race and after about a month of not doing any long runs over like 14 miles (pretty poor training and not even enough of those), I'd kind of gotten out of the habit of taking shot bloks and my stomach get violently upset on race day. Probably a combination of nerves and fake sports food...

My time was over 5 hours (5:21 to be completely honest), which is slower than I thought it would be, but I foolishly didn't realise just how hard it was to run a marathon. Until you've done it, I don't think you can imagine how you can be tired to the point that it can ever take you like 45 minutes or even more to run 5K (I usually do it in 27 min and just assumed that I could do every 5K split at that pace). The important thing is that now I know I can do the distance and also that the key is just to keep running (NO walk breaks), no matter how slowly. Knowing what doing one is actually like will help me train better for the next one (Nice-Cannes in November).

You're really a zombie afterwards and you can barely walk, or go down stairs or even eat. I had no real appetite the rest of the day. After I crossed the finish line, when I had to walk over to stand in line to get my medal, I realised I was limping. A woman turned to me and said, "God, that was terrible." I replied, "I know, unspeakably awful." I asked if she were a first time marathoner and she said yes. We commiserated together a little. I remembered back to seeing my mom and my friend Pamela cheering for me during the race around km 29 or 30 and when Pam asked, "how do you feel?" I said, "oh, pretty terrible" and she said, "that's how you're supposed to feel when you run a marathon!"

The highlights were seeing then during the race, I also saw my friend Sharon looking strong at the end and our friend Freda was there cheering for us, which was a huge boost. Finally, I used what little energy I had left to run across the finish line at a blistering 10 min/mile pace (which seemed like the equivalent of 7-min miles considering how tired I was!)

The absolute highlight was seeing my mom and Pam at the finish and then while I was looking for them in the crowd, I ran into Evelyn, who had also come to congratulate me! We ate some maracroons in the sun, courtesy of Ironman boyfriend (who was going crazy worrying about me since I was taking so long) and the girls and my mom were so positive and so proud of me that that was when I stopped feeling disappointed about running so slowly and going from competitive running goals to basic survival and started feeling proud that I HAD survived and had run a marathon! I decided that your first marathon is about getting round and not giving up and even just doing one is a huge life 'moment fort' (French for defining moment) and big event to check off the bucket list. While I've run a marathon, running a fast one, or at least one that I feel like I trained well for, is still on the list... But I'll have my chance in November.

This one, the second marathon can be about running fast, meeting a time goal, training well and most importantly, going into the race with confidence.

Paris Marathon 2013

I'm running a marathon this Sunday. April 7, 2013. While I've already signed up for my next marathon (insane!), this one will be my first.

Signing up for 1 is crazy enough. 2 is just plain psycho.

I'm comfortable running half marathons, but feel like this is the more intense sequel in an X-Men trilogy or something and this is the one where in the preview, they say something melodramatic, like This time, all bets are off, or, In the rules of trilogies, in the 3rd movie, there are no rules. Or coming soon, to an urban marathon course near you, April 7, You'll find out what you're made of.

I have been told to expect pain, tears and more pain. I plan to run with pain killers in addition to my shot bloks, just in case. I have been told it's a wild experience and just to tick off the Paris monuments that we pass and the miles will fly by. I've been told that in theory, it's easy-- right foot, left foot, repeat for 42.2 kilometers (26.2 miles), but obviously, in practice it's a little harder.

I'm running with a friend who has done marathons before and runs at my pace and was a lovely speed interval partner. I will also have brunch waiting for me afterwards thanks to tri team friends. My mother will be cheering for me at the finish line and so will Ironman (who is running it, too, and will no doubt do it in some impossibly fast time, like 2 hours). The closest thing I have to a race strategy (besides surviving and not stopping!) is just to focus on each 5K split and try to do each in half an hour. Easy and consistent.

I also don't want to alternate running and walking at the end.

I've heard that if half marathons really start at  the 10K mark, marathons really start at 30K. The last 10k are where the race is. Lots of people run-walk this part, you'll start to see people stop and stretch. This is where it happens. Trying to avoid time goals, other than around 4 hours-- would prefer closer to 4 than 5, but any time I run will be a personal best (the beauty of every new distance you race!), and my only other goal is to avoid walking. I'd like to run the whole thing, even if my pace becomes the slowest jog ever.

While this might be a slightly saccreligious comparison, marathon stratégies for first time marathoners are probably like birth plans-- you can have ideas about how you want it to go, but you should stay flexible since you don't know how the event will really happen and there will be factors beyond your control. Like the crowd, the weather, etc., (for the marathon, at least).

4 days away, I feel like I didn't train enough. I trained well in February, but couldn't really sustain it in March, mainly because of the social life and family visits (not that I am complaining about these things at all!) It just because harder to fit in. I also only did 1 run over 30k, and what now only seems like few around 30-- like a month of long runs at 26, 27 and 29K. My longest run ever was 32K and now I wish I'd done it twice, or even done a longer one...  

I did notice that I was at least getting used to long runs, though, when I did a little 16K last weekend and thought how luxurious it was to do a short run without having to carry water, shot bloks or gu chomps...

I think running is a little like writing a college thesis. In running, you've never trained enough. In the academic world, you've never researched enough. I once had a professor who told me that I just had to start writing and there was an infinite amount of research to be done.

I also wish I knew what to expect. Will my legs go numb? Will I hallucinate? Will I have to stop and pee in public? I think I'll probably cry at the end, just because I'm fairly emotional.

While I just want to survive the Paris marathon, someday I would like to qualify for Boston. That's what marathon number 2 is for! No, just kidding. My second marathon will probably still not be a Boston qualifier by any stretch, but I might be able to find some kind of intermediate goal that will put me on track for qualifying by the end of the year... And it should be the most breath-taking course ever-- Nice-Cannes marathon along the French Riviera.

First Triathlon Ever

So while I can't quite call myself a triathlete yet, I did complete my first triathlon a few weeks ago (and in a relatively new development, my boyfriend is an Ironman-- I swear, to me this is cooler than saying, 'my boyfriend's in the band' -- or after Twilight, maybe now it's 'my boyfriend is a vampire', is to a high school girl. I am amazed by athletic prowess, despite, or because, I have so little of it myself).

But not sure how much these things count in terms of triathlon cred, though, because the tri in question was a super sprint, which means really short distances. It was indoors, which was nice considering Paris spring weather (it basically stays rainy winter until May when we have 1 week of glorious sunshine and we all later realise that that was our summer). The swim was 300 meters in a pool, then you biked 7K on a stationary bike and then the run was 2.5K outside.

It was a good experience but harder than I thought to do all 3 in a row.

And the swim was brutal.

I am not a confident swimmer, but this was bad even for me. I couldn't find a breathing rhythm-- I probably started out too fast, and was already self-consious because people were watching. I panicked and breast-stroked part of it. Not proud of that, but all future triathlon swims will probably be better than that, I don't think they can be worse. Despite being in shark-infested open water... So I'm really making an effort to swim more and Ironman gives me drills to do each time we go to the pool.

Biking was the best part. Mainly because I was so happy to be out of the pool and they had bike assistants who helped you adjust your bike before the start of the triathlon and gave you water and encouraged you during the race. They were lovely, I keep meaning to write to the triathlon organsers to tell them how much I appreciated the bike assistants.

The course for the run was very hilly, so I was pretty slow-- I think I also forgot it was a race and not a Sunday jog! I was the last one to get out of the pool, and couldn't quite make the time up on the bike, so I didn't see many other folks on the course. So hills and stairs to go up and I didn't make up a lot of time on the downhill, since the path was slippery from rain the night before.

So I somehow avoided being the last person in the competition -although I was the last on my team, but motivated for the next (gulp, longer) one and working on the swimming.

Swimming with Pool Boys and Shark Fins

I run a lot more than I cycle or swim. Mainly because I'm a way better runner (ha, everything's relative!) than cyclist or swimmer and I have a marathon to run in April. I only cycle about once a week, if I'm lucky and I haven't really been swimming at all lately.

I finally dragged myself to the pool after about a month of just talking about how I should really go to the pool. It took a lot of moral support, including a pastry as a reward at the end but for the first time, I did half or more than half of the swim session without this:

 

 

This giant styrofoam peanut looking thing is called a pull buoy (pronounced 'boy' which just inevitably makes me think of pool boys...) and is a floatation device designed to help beginners focus on arm drills while they swim, or try to learn how, without sinking. This way, you can work on arms and then kicking separately before trying to put it all together, which can be overwhelming for those of us who didn't grow up swimming... If you're puzzled, don't worry, I had never seen a pull buoy before I started swimming with my tri club.

Here's a little flashback to my first tri team swim session and my introduction to swimming the crawl:

Me, gasping for breath (after probably 1 or 2 lengths...): I have no endurance, I just get so tired!
Coach: Here, use this.
Me: Um, what is that and what do I do with it?
Coach, suprised that there were people on earth unfamiliar with pull buoys: It goes between your legs.
Me, surprised that swimming involved putting something between your legs: Really? How high up between your legs exactly?

If you were wondering, there is absoultely nothing sexy about pull buoys at all despite the fact that they go between your thighs... You forget it's there because you're usually too busy trying to breathe properly or to do some weird impossible drill like extend your arms out all the way, swim using only one hand or lift up your elbows (that's called Shark Fin and it's my favorite because the only basic swimming technique that I think I can do right).

The drill I'm proudest of being able to do (with the help of Mr. Pull Buoy) is swimming with my hands clenched into fists. This makes you realise how inefficient your entire stroke and really everything you do is and I feel like it's a mental victory to make it from one the end of the pool to the other with the fists of fury. Surprisingly, I now find bilateral breathing pretty easy, but it's everything else (arm position, keeping your head far enough in the water, keeping your core tight and kicking enough but not too much) that I find really hard.

Swimming involves a lot of weird impossible drills because it's the most technical of the 3 triathlon sports. It really doesn't matter how fit you are, it just matters if you have the right technique. I used to hate this and find it unfair being in good running shape doesn't mean that you're in good swimming shape, but now I think that in some ways it's nice, since I will probably never be as fit as a lot of the triathletes I know. Since I can't compete with them in terms of fitness, I like that I might someday be capable of learning good swimming technique and find it strangely comforting that you just have to be efficient in the water and if you are, then it's ok if you're not particularly strong or able to do a thousand push ups or run a blazing fast 3 hour marathon...

Interestingly, a swimming coach in the US once told me that the land sport that prepared people best for being a good swimmer was ballet. Running and cycling are all about contracting your muscles, but swimming and dancing are both about lengthening your muscles.

I've also heard from some swim coaches (mainly charming Australian swim coach Breton Ford) that teaching complete beginners is really difficult, a lot of coaches have no idea how and are much more comfortable helping experienced swimmers shave 10 seconds off their time. I am lucky enough to have some great coaches on my tri team and think they're definitely much better at spotting problems and devising drills to correct them than lifeguards at the local pool. Anyone who asks me about swimming lessons (or for a recommendation for a gym to join), just gets a little promotional sales talk about why they should join the tri team and it's better and cheaper than gyms or private swim lessons.

The tri team will also never tell you that you're hopeless. You may go down in tri team history as being a legendarily bad swimmer, but they will keep coaching you. To go back to my first swim session ever, the coach's main comment after a few laps last November? 'We have a lot of work to do!'

So what have we learned today? We already know that swimming is hard because it's so technique- based. But for any beginner swimmers out there, remember that the pull buoy is your magic friend and really does make a big difference when you are learning to do the impossible (swim) and you'll be glad to have it for your swimming drills.

Thrill of Victory, Agony of Defeat: Paris Half 2013

I am probably the least competitive person on my triathlon team. I like to have goals and meet them, but that's it. Also feel like if you don't meet a goal, just analyse why, try to make appropriate changes and then meet it the next time.

I ran the Paris half marathon yesterday (semi marathon de Paris) and did it as a matter of principle-- I'd signed up for it a few years ago, didn't train and ended up not running it.

So I ran it yesterday. While victory and defeat are strong terms, here are the pros and cons.

The positive points were that lots of my friends did it, too-- I started out running with a dear friend of mine and it was great to have a buddy to wait for the start with. My wave started 25 minutes after the advertised start time... Felt more confident at the start than before any previous half and felt good at the end, too, better than at the end of previous halves. Also easiest recovery so far, feel fine today and even doing a recovery jog tonight. I was happy with my split times (up until the last 6k anyway). The sun came out, that strange glowing orb that we haven't seen all winter! Oh, how we've missed it! And it felt great to run in short sleeves in the sun.

The negative points were that I'd been trying for under 2 hours (like 1:55-1:59), but just missed it at 2:01. While this is a respectable time, 2:01 is also kind of a stupid time. A little annoyed by the 01...
My non-fitness friends are impressed and find a 2-hour half pretty fast. My fitness friends offer me their condolences, as if a 2:01 half marathon is the equavalent of my mother dying. Or they tell me encouragingly (I think it's meant to be encouraging, anyway, but it just comes off as slightly accusatory), with all your training over the last month, you should have been able to do it in under 2.

My own reaction is more philosophical. While it's too bad, it is not a devastating tragedy in my life, either and since I can't redo the 2013 Paris half marathon (not this year, anyway), will have to do another half this year. Like maybe in the fjords in Norway. I do, however, think I can run a sub-2 half marathon and will just figure out what I did wrong and not do it next time.

So what went wrong? It was mainly the last 6k. They took me 36 min when they should have taken about 32. This is mainly what got in the way of the sub-2. Also kms 10-15 took 30 min when they should have been about 27 min (like the km 1-5 and 5-10 splits did), so this is where I lost some time, too.

So the marathon training is going to have to intensify this month and I'll really really really have to work on negative splits (when the second half of your run is faster than the first half, since I clearly didn't do it yesterday). Luckily, I have a secret weapon: an ironman coach!