Gulf Coast RR by DS

Before my coach spits tea all over her computer (after reading the title of the post), let me explain that the race report mentioned in the header is not my own. And unless my back has decided to miraculously heal and my name is Donna, then I can't take credit for a race well done.

As my fellow Panama City Beachers - Mary and Ashley - have all posted their race reports, my blog was feeling a bit, er, left out.

Is that even possible?

Yes, I've decided that it is.

As I am unable to race in my current state, the race reports have been a bit lacking. Unless you want to count race walking other spinal patients of the 4th Floor Recovery Ward at Scripps La Jolla Hospital. Which, I might add, I did with a passion. But let's face it - it's just not the same walking down another person using a walker, even if you are also using a walker.

Perhaps I'll write about that one day...

I think my nurses were at first concerned, amused, and then concerned when I was still walking after 50 minutes. I am totally serious here. This was (by the way) 2 days post surgery.

Anyway, here's Donna's race report! Enjoy!!

Last weekend was the Gulf Coast Half Iron Distance Triathlon in Panama City Beach, one of the big tri's I've been training my heart out for. And it was wonderful, worth it, and I'm ready to go again!

Joanna and I leisurely drove over from Pensacola Friday afternoon, stopping along the way in Destin to grab sandwiches and soup from Panera and hit the Shoppes. We met Marit, Mary and Ashley, (three amazing athletes, and very cool women) at the hotel that they graciously shared with us! After introductions, Joanna and I went to scope out the race site and I picked my packet up. Lots of vendors and LOTS of people and TONS of really cool bikes!!! (especially when compared to my purple handlebarred dinosaur) Then we went back to the room, I did my quick bike/run pre-race brick workout, showered, and went to drop my bike off in the transition area. Carrabbas was next for a De!- licous pasta dinner- and then to bed!

3:30 a.m. Breakfast number one, clifbar. back to bed.

4:00 a.m. Awakening to the chorus of 5 cell phone alarms, and shortly after, Marits excellent french press coffee. She really knows how to do this whole triathlon thing!

4:45 a.m. Second breakfast. Chocolate boost and banana. Leave for race site.

5:00 a.m. Set up transition area and hit the port-o-potties 5 to 10 times. Pre race nerves. WOW. ;-)

6:00 a.m. Head to swim start, shimmy on wet suit and get ready to RACE!!!!

6:30 a.m. Swim start for women 25-29 age group. 1.2 miles in the choppy Gulf of Mexico. Off to bike 56 miles and then to run 13.1.

5 hours, 27 minutes and 12 seconds later, I crossed the finish line. 45 minutes faster than my last time at this distance one year ago. I guess the 'if you want to quit your job but can't, then this is the training program for you' training program worked! Awesome! I made the podium for my age group. The awards went 10 deep and I was 10th which is wonderful- a lot more than I was expecting.

My swim was solid, the bike was very smooth, and the run while hot, humid and sunny was ... well... I finished! And even with a sprint at the end. Details and pictures soon to be up at gulfcoastriathlon.com.

There you have it!

In her second half ironman, Donna did fantastic! It made me so happy to see her race: diving fearlessly into the surf, wizzing by on the bike (could spot her because of the bright purple handlebar tape - a great help to two sherpas desperately scanning the crowds of bikers - comes strongly recomended. Your bike may look a bit, er, bright. But it is easy to spot. Trust me!), and storming out of T2 on the run.

As for me, well, today I'm heading home to St. Paul, MN for a few days with my folks. Right now, as I'm not racing - but getting back into training - is a perfect chance to spend some quality time with The Folks. Mom even looked into a weekly pass to the local YWCA, so I'll be able to continue with my water running, swimming, physical therapy, and (now! hooray!) biking. My goal is to NOT spend a lot of time at the gym, but as my recovery and rise to triathlon fitness grows, I know that I'll need to put in some good quality work.

And trust me, I am super excited about that.

In general, it'll be wonderful to see my parents. Last time I saw Dad was out in California. I hope that he's stoked about the difference. (I know he will be). Mom was here in Florida in April, and hasn't seen the swimming-water running-physical therapy workout-biking gal that I've become. My scar, while not as puffy, is still there, still as prominent as ever.

And I'm glad about that.

Because I'm looking at it as a battle wound - a badge of honor. Yes, it still looks like a butt crack - but that's beside the point.

Because let's face it: things on the surface are very different then how they are deep down. But not in a freaky bad-sort-of way. You just can't judge a book by its cover.

So when I get to the airport and get searched, wanded, patted down, and everything short of giving up my firstborn (no - not happening YET), I'll have a great story about the scar on my back. 8 weeks and 4 days Baby! (Not that I'm counting!)

To St. Paul and Mom and Dad - here I come!

Missing: Lats

WOW!

I am incredibly lucky -

So much, that I can't believe that I'm about to write what I'm going to write.

Additionally, I am one great-big happy camper.

Here we go!

(And keep in mind - this is not complaining. Just a statement of the fact).

I am SO sore. I can feel my soreness resonating throughout my body. I am aware of every little movement, every little step, every single breath that I take. The arms, lats, chest, legs, abs - everything is one red hot level of OUCH!

It started Monday, when Physical Therapist Jonathan told me we were going to work on arms and abs.

It sounded suspicious, like conditioning work. I was assured that was.

"You're at the point in your recovery," he began while pulling out the bosu ball from under one of the benches. "That we can start getting your conditioning back. We can do specific strenght work, as long as it helps your back and doesn't hurt."

Then he made me do a million pushups.

Just kidding, sort of. It was actually 3 X 15 pushups off the inverted bosu ball. And later I did another 30 pushups off the Swedish Ball. Do me a favor: don't do the math.

And that was pretty much how Monday's physical therapy went. It was hard, it was work - and I loved every minute of it.

I may have left my pecs and lats at the PT Office, but it was a great session.

Additionally, I was given the "All Clear" to start biking FOR REAL. After bringing in my ISM Adamo Saddle and explaining the mechanics of riding a bike, Jonathan decided that I could ride for up to (but no more) than two hours per day. The catch? I could ride an hour in the morning and an hour at night.

It's a start!

Again - I floated out of the office (sans pecs and lats).

Yesterday's 4800 yard swim was a turning point. It was one of those challenging workouts where a lot of T-pace work. I sent Jen an email, asking about pace. Her reply was cheerful, a bit too cheerful, if you ask me.

She gave me permission to swim my 100s on a fast XX pace - and I was momentarily stoked. But then I added up the nearly 3200 yards of T-pace work, and my knees begain to quake. Literally.

But I set my goals, decided that I could hold a specific pace and vowed to not dip below that. And besides, the fact that my pecs and lats were sore - what did that matter? I was swimming, I was going to work hard, and I wanted to embrace the challenge.

About half way through my swim, I began experiencing an odd sensation in the lats and triceps. I was pulling as hard as I could, but couldn't quite understand what was happening. I hit the wall, noted my time, and took off precisely 15 seconds later.

Came in again, with nearly the exact same time.

And the workout - the longer sets and then the slower sets were pretty much all off the same 100 split. (Which was 1-2 seconds below my goal - huurah!).

During my final set of FAST 50s, my pace remained the same. It didn't matter how hard I pulled, how fast I flipped, how much I kicked, my body had reached the end of its line. I willed myself forward, grateful for the opportunity to feel this way.

At every flip turn, my abs burned. My lats were gone, left somewhere 2000 yard back. The triceps were hanging in there, but were about to blow spectacularily. And my chest, well, I think it was there. It looked like it was there. But I couldn't be sure.

Almost an hour and twenty minutes later, I flopped out of the water, my first attempt to exit the pool unsuccessful. My arms wouldn't work. I grinned as the guy in the lane over gave me an odd look, and redoubled my efforts. Even though Jen might like it if I spent more time in the pool, after a monster 4800 yard set, I had had enough, thank-you-very-much.

But I was still proud of what I had done, how I worked through the swim.

It was during the short drive home that I found myself thinking over the swim and my physical therapy. I am beginning to feel more and more like my old self, meeting new challenges head on, feeling myseslf push through hard workouts. I'm still not physically the person I was, but I'm getting closer and closer each day.

This morning I am beyond sore. I don't know how I'll manage another "arms and core!" day in PT. But I know that I will. And I'm grateful for the opportunity.

Because that's what my soreness is: a second opportunity, another chance. In no way will I ever complain about the monotony of a workout, will I lament how tired or fatigued I am. 8 weeks ago I was told I would never be able to do the thins I am, would struggle with walking. Yet here I am, able to swim Jen's workouts and do billions of pushups in PT.

(Off the bosu ball, I might add).

And that's the thing that I realize - it's okay to be sore, it's okay to be tired. It's just the attitude with which we choose to look at ourselves, view life that matters. I am grateful for the opportunities, happy to be where I'm at. And while my lats are somewhere in lane 7 at the UWF Aquatic Center, and my pecs are hiding with the bosu ball at the PT studio - the point is, is that I can do these things.

So today as I head off to physical therapy, I'll remember how happy I am. And if I'm lucky, I'll find my pecs waiting for me with the bosu ball. The lats are another matter - but I know they'll turn up sooner or later.

8 Weeks

Well, after a fun-filled and adventursome weekend, I made it home - safe and sound - back to Pensacola. Nathaniel was happy to see me, and The House Monster was extatic. And while it's great to be back home with my Other Half and Kitty, I find myself a bit sad about leaving my friends.

I don't know how to describe last weekend, except for magical.

It was simply fantastic seeing Mary and Ashley all over again. And while I wasn't racing (and there were a few tears at the start of the W25-29 wave), I loved being in the atmosphere, cheering people on, participating on some level in this sport.

So today, naturally - I felt myself a little sad.

I miss my friends, miss the beach... but will always hold dear the memories that we created.

Thanks Mary and Ashley - I love you guys!

And, for the record, Mary invited Ryan to be an honorary member of Camp HTFU, after hearing his rendition of becoming an Ironman last year at Florida. The poor guy had a faster bike split than run - caused by severe internal GI distress. Vomit and poop don't even begin to describe what this guy went through.

But after stumbling through the final 5 miles, he finally heard, "Ryan Barnett...." and his first thought was, "God? Is that you? Have I died?"

And then he crossed the finish line.

I've never seen Mary Eggers laugh as much as she did Saturday after the race. She was all smiles, listening to Ryan tell his story. Without getting too much into the graphic details, I caught Melissa - his super wife and fellow sherpa extraordinaire - giving me a disgustetd look.

And I returned it.

Ew - boys are gross.

But Ryan did stellar - finishing his race a mere 5:00 off his goal time, and grabbing some serious hardware in the process. 2nd Clydesdale - Congrats Ryan!

And today - well - toady marks the 8 wek anniversary of my accident. Has it really been 8 weeks? Wow. Time has really flown by. However, looking back, 8 weeks would have felt like an eternity from a hospital bed.

I have learned so much about myself through this process, through this Journey. And while the accident was unfortunate, nearly everything that has happened since has been wonderful.

So in celebration, I'm writing about the top 8 funny things that have happened since my crash. Enjoy!

8) Being able to pick up The House Monster. All 18.2 pounds of her.

7) Doing laps around the 4th Floor spinal ward of Scripps La Jolla Hospital, and "racing" fellow patients in the process. It was then and there that I knew I would be back before I knew it.

6) Having a lady tell my my pants were too low. I'm assuming that she saw my Extendo Crack, but I wasn't sure. Oh well - if you've seen one butt crack, you've seen them all. Except for mine. My extended one is unlike anything you'll ever see.

5) Doing core work on the Swedish Ball at physical therapy, and rolling off because the ball was slippery. I laughed for 3 minutes until I regained my composure and tried again. My wonderful PT wasn't happy about my antics, and decided to demonstrate himself - only to slip off the ball. Nearly wet my pants in the process.

4) Recieving all the cards, packages, and well wishes from friends, bloggers, and complete strangers. In the midst of a bad day - where I'm frustrated or sad - I'll pull out cards or pictures, and soon I'll smile and realize how grateful I truly am. It's an even better pick-me-up than a shot of whiskey. And it doesn't burn on the way down.

3) No ice baths! No freezing water! No ice bumping against my legs! Need I say more???

2) Trying to "save" some beached rays during the Gulf Coast Half getaway weekend. After sitting in the sand with Mary for half an hour, watching the skates and rays play in the waves, we returned to the room and I glanced out the balcony. To my horror, the rays that I had fallen in love with, had gotten caught up in a crashing wave, and were flopping around on the sand.

Without thinking, I ran down the two flights of stairs and hit the beach. Mary and Ashley yelled that the little critters were okay and back in the water. But I had to see it to believe it.

All I remember is them yelling at me to, "NOT RUN!"

I tore across the sand, not listening to their cries of, "We'll tell your coach! We have her number!"

And sure enough, the rays were okay.

And I got to run across the sand. (My back felt great!)

1) Regaining sensation on the right side of my pelvic region exactly a week after my surgery while walking down Pacific Coast Hwy 101 in Del Mar, California. It was very embarassing, as it felt itchy -for lack of a better word. Nathaniel found it hilarious, and encouraged me to scratch my itch. For the life of me, I was unable to do so.

For Pete's sake - there was stopped traffic and people eating at ousdie cafes. Scratching my pelvic area in public did NOT seem the right thing to do - post surgery or not.

8 weeks. Wow. Still a can't believe it happened - but I am amazed at all the good that has come about since the crash. And it gives me hope, makes me realize that We all have the ability to make something negative and turn it into a positive. Because, after all, we can't change what happens, but we CAN control how we reach, how we choose to respond.

And with a lot of good friends, wonderful family, and a very devoted House Monster, I'm excited and optimistic about what the next 8 weeks have to offer.

The Morning After (still in PCB)!

Holy Wind and Waves Batman!

This morning the three of us awoke to crashing surf and blowing winds. The Palm Trees are waving uncontrollably back and forth, and the white caps in the water stretch as far as the eye can see. Red flags and warnings have been posted all along the beach, and I can only wonder what if this would have been yesterday.

But it wasn't.

Mary was the first one up, and half awake, I saw her head out onto our deck, greeting the mornig surf and stretching. She's feeling great after her race yesterday, not too sore, just happy to have a great first race under her belt.

Ashley was the tired one of the bunch. Stuffing one of her three pillows over her head, she turned down the offers of fresh coffee, and told us to close the balcony door. We readily obliged. After stumbling out of bed, she was the one to declare Let's go to Waffle House.

And so we did.

It seems as though our final day trip to Waffle House has become a tradition for Camp HTFU ladies. So in planning our next destination, we need to ensure that a Waffle House is nearby. (And for the record, Mary got her "official" Waffle House coffee mug, complete with a coffee stain and chip.)

As for me, I'm feeling contemplative.

Looking across the blue-green waters of the choppy Gulf, I'm thinking about all the events that transpired yesterday. The race, the sherpa-ing, meeting new friends, and best of all: the time that the three of us spent together after the race.

Later in the day, Mary and I wandered down to the beach and sat in the sand, letting the waves tickle our toes. I've never had so much fun, or so much sand in my shorts. It was great watching the rays and skates playing in the surf, their ability to fly through tubes of water reminded me of birds soaring overhead.

After raiding the Wal-Mart (because, let's face it: Panama City Beach is not complete without a trip to the Wal-Mart of Waffle House!) of junk food and dinner, our evening picnic on the water's edge was one for the memory books.

I am sad to be leaving today, sad to have to tell my friends so long for now and see you soon! I know that we will, and that we're already planning our next trip together.

HTFU Girls Gone Wild. Or something like that. Only if you can count Mary jumping through waves in a pink cheetah suit, Ashley discussing the merits of her own body odor and skank, and me trying on Hooters shirts.

And yes, we DID find the "H" in HTFU. For "H" Bomb, according to our matching Hooter's Shirts. (For the record, we look stellar in our matching outfits).

And now, Ashley has just left - and the room feels empty without her. Mary is packing her bike, and together we're plotting our final swim together (in the Panama City Beach Aquatic Center, as the Gulf is a no-swim zone today). Her plane takes off at 3:30, so we've still got plenty of time.

After a weekend like this, it makes me appreciate and love the friends that I have, grateful for the time we get to share, and love the sport that I've chosen. I can't think of a better way to spend a weekend - with the girls I love.

Me and Mary on the beach!

Gulf Coast Triathlon

Well - the race was today. Could you tell?

Ah, and what a whirlwind it was.

I had no clue that sherpa-ing was so tough. It's one thing to race, to get caught up in the pre-race jitters, the prep, the race itself, and the recovery. But the sherpa is there through it all: worrying, helping, running around, waiting, doing some more running around, more waiting, answering calls from friends and families of the ahtletes racing, waiting, waiting, waiting...

And waiting.

And today was only 5 hours for almost all of my friends.

Imagine what an Ironman is like

So to all the Race Sherpas out there: Thank you for what you do. Triathletes, athletes, sporty-peoples in general could not do what we do without your support.

Highlights from the day include:

-Ashley literally choking on her oatmeal at 4:30 am

-Mary yelling how she LOVED the water and had a meeting with Jaws, while watching the waves roll in.

-Ashley putting on her wetsuit legs while sporting a plastic bag over her feet. Surprisingly, it slid on fairly quickly. To our complete and utter amazement.

-Standing on the beach and wathing the waves of athletes take off. I was nervous, happy, and tearful. Nervous for my friends, happy that they were spending a day doing what they loved, and tearful because I couldn't be out there. I was THIS close to running in the water as my wave was called out, but Sherpa Joanna held me back. And gave me a hug to help my tears.

-Seeing Mary, Ashley, Ludi, Donna, Amy K., Ryan, Petra, Katy, Stephanie L., Jennifer P-H, and several others that I can't remember out on the course.

-Yelling GO GO GO! at the top of my lungs at strangers.

-Yelling at Amy to "Go get her!" and having her say, "Are you Marit?" FYI: she pronounced my name correctly. Whoever told her - thanks! Had a chance to meet her at the finish after her win. She looked graceful and fast running down the chute, but collapsed into a wheelchair afterwards. First person I've seen give an interview from a wheelchair after winning a race.

Hilarious! But she deserved it!

-Managing to see all my friends on the bike AND get pictures. Yes, Super Sherpa indeed.

-Hugging everyone after the race, inspite of their sweat and grossness. At least they had sweated everything out. I was just a bundle of messy workout clothes, topped off with slightly damp hair. I know, I know - looking like a million bucks. Well, not so much.

-Hearing 8 Mile at the start of what would-have-been my wave

-Seeing Mary smile at every junction I saw her on the course

-Cheering for Ashley and having her yell, "This is for YOU!" Cried again right there.

-Comparing pieces of chocolate cake vs vanilla cake at the store. That was for Liz.

-Sitting on the beach for Mary for half an hour after the race. We were wearing bathing suits and sitting in the surf, and ended up with 3 pounds of sand in our suits. We had to wash very carefully, as we didn't want to grow any pearls in unmentionable areas.

-Letting Ashley pick the movie choice post-race. It was about ballet. I love her, but will never understand her choice in movies.

-Listening to the sound of the surf while reading my book.

-Being so proud of my friends - for going out of their comfort zones, pushing themselves and taking a risk, and pursuing their dreams. I am so proud of these incredible women, and love them all. I am honored to be here, grateful for the friends that I have.

-Our Trio Beach Junk Food Picknic at dusk. We decided to spend the entire time spread on the blanket without talking triathlon. We were successful. And it was the most I've laughed in a long time.

-Watching athletes on the course cheer and support each other.

-Running down the batteries on Mary's lap-

(hee hee hee)

Love to my friends. Thank you for sharing this with me! Congratulations to everyone who raced and who Sherpa-ed!