Virtual Insanity

Well then.  Clearly I needed a little bit of cheese with the wine in that last post, am I right?  Thankfully, it's been two weeks, about a million perspective shifts, a lot of deep breaths, and a ton of patience later.  And here we are.

I took some time to feel sad about the lack of racing in 2020.  I'm fully aware it's a first world problem, but I'm also aware that during this whole unprecedented time, no one wrote a book at how to get through it.  We all have bad times, good times, moments of sadness, moments of insanity, moments of not giving a $hit, and moments of pure, simple, joy in ways we never expected.

Sometimes all in one day.

Over the past few weeks, I've taken a step back and learned to have some patience.  Acceptance for not being in control of what lies ahead.  Open minded thinking for people that might be viewing this a different way.  Stepping back from people that judge the way I am handling my life choices.  Understanding for those willing to have a conversation with me about where our viewpoints differ, usually ending where both of us come out better for it.  And absolute empathy for myself.  This might shock you, but I tend to be a pretty goal oriented person.  I don't take any shit.  I don't make excuses.  And I go for what I want.

But I also get tired.  I run out of bandwidth.  And now seems as good a time as any to take those deep breaths and say, much like I would to anyone else that's struggling to keep it together, "It's ok.  Whatever you are feeling now, it's ok".

It's funny, isn't it, how we have the least amount of patience with ourselves??

I took a little bit of time to just be sad about the whole state of the world.  Then, over the past week or so, I have started to pick up the pieces and to reframe my state of mind.  There might not be races in 2020.  There might not be school until the fall.  There might not be big get togethers.  But there are certain things we really can have - positives to focus on.  The ability to actually spend time with my kids - and to watch them play together and use their imaginations (they are actually getting along.  Amazing what a lack of options does!).  The ability to connect meaningfully with friends 1:1 in a non "in person" manner.  And the ability to set some new goals for 2020 that don't hinge on legit finish lines.

Since it seems my whole "traditional" race season has shifted from 2020 to 2021, it allows me the time to actually do a few things I wouldn't have otherwise.  To work on my bike limiters without working on speed at the same time.  To be flexible with my training schedule and allow it to serve as a stress relief and not as a hard core goal to "do everything fast".  And to "race" in a totally different way.

I've decided to do a few things I've always wanted to do.  First of all, run the year.  That equals 2020 miles, twelve easy installments of 168.33333333 miles, or for those who like to measure the minutiae (guilty), 38.84615384615385 miles per week.  Every year, I've wanted to do this and got sidelined by that whole biking and swimming thing that seems to get in the way of running if I want to actually be a triathlete.  I know.  WTF?

I've signed up for a few virtual races.  I've never done these, but there have been a few lately that I've done or signed up for that have been pretty awesome.

I took part in a 24 hour relay for Rochester Running Company to help keep running going in Rochester.  The idea was that every half hour, there was a virtual baton passed on to keep sneakers on the ground at all times.  Because I am an idiot adventuresome, I signed up for 2am.  What a cool run  What a neat experience! Something I never would have done before.

I also signed up for the "Spring Clean" half marathon.  This was a great idea by one of our local running stores - they charged $20, which went to pay employees that cannot work on-site right now.  They "spring cleaned" their medal and tee shirt inventory and sent out a random medal/tee to every racer.  Then they ran the race over a weekend, you submitted your time, and got entered into the results.  Pretty cool!

My Swag!

While I didn't come close to breaking my PR of 1:40, this was a pretty great run with lack of "race energy" on tired legs and good enough to net an AG win and 5th overall female (whatever that even means when you can't see your "competition").  Even better, it helped keep our local running scene going!

Next up is a dual challenge - I signed up for a 1000k virtual run across Tennessee.  Years ago, while running Mind The Ducks, one of my ultra friends told me all about Vol State, a 500k ultra that 10 hours into a 12 hour race, seemed like a fabulous idea, and we made a pact to do it someday.  (Insert reminder here where I am incredibly influenced by terrible ideas.  I don't apologize for this for one second, as its enriched my life in more ways than one!)

Vol state is no longer, but the creator of the Barkely Marathons (AKA the best terrible idea ever that I WILL DO one day!), Gary Cantrell (aka "Laz")  created the Virtual Run Across Tennessee - you run 1000k in 4 months "across the state".  For this race, you get a shirt, medal, virtual tracker to see your little emoji guy run across the state, and the entry fee goes to "Feed Tennessee", a charity that Laz supports passionately.  All good stuff.  (There's also additional swag if you run back across Tennessee....2000k....but I'm not that crazy.  Maybe.  Um....well, we will see about that.)

Moving on.  The 1000k race runs May 1-August 31, so it seems appropriate to do another challenge starting May 1 - The Dave Goggins challenge.  This one is a great quarantine challenge and also works well to train one for an ultra.  The goal?  4x4x48, or, a 4 mile run every 4 hours for 48 hours.  It's a great test of endurance, f*ck it, and stupidity, all in one!  What more could you ask for??

Of course, that fits me to a tee.  Some of my buddies have done variations - a mini challenge of 5x6x30 or a 100k total for 5.25x4x48.  Whew.  I'm going to stick to the original.  Ideally, this begins Friday afternoon and I finish my last run Sunday.  I plan to document it and share the results early next week, so stay tuned!

Is this nuts?  Yep.  Virtual insanity?  Absolutely.  Jamiroquai always hit the nail on the head, and the concept of "Virtual Insanity" seems not only to apply to my "race goals" but to our current world right now...

And now that things are changing for the worse,
See, its a crazy world we're living in

Futures made of virtual insanity now
Always seem to, be governed by this love we have

Is it what I expected of the year?  Absolutely not.  But somewhere in this whole virtual insanity, I am working to find my grounding.  With the love that I have.  One step at a time. And as I always seem to do, it starts with one step into my running shoes.  Ready, set, GO!


(Note that these ideas are solely my own.  My coach thinks I'm absolutely bananas and I have taken this challenge on as my own.  He has much better, saner ideas as to what to do with my time, but as always, allows me the head space and freedom to go off in my own direction at my discretion.  He rocks).

Hey World (Don't Give Up)

Welcome to 2020.  Aside from all of my pithiness and whining about the year, it seems, in fact, that it’s not all about me (So glad I finally figured that out - took me long enough!)  Unless you live under a rock (hell, it's probably reached there as well) the little virus known as COVID-19 - or- the 'Rona, as it's called by the cool kids - has totally taken over life as we know it.  Forget the blizzard of '77. The Ice storm of '91. ‘Rona 2020 has completely eclipsed any stories of our parents walking 2 miles each way to school uphill, barefoot in the snow. Obliterated our stories about how we had a rotary phone without - gasp - texting ability- or even the internet (or as Rob would say, the "internots") and were off from school for 10 days during a "horrific" ice storm.

Running is not cancelled.  Neither is Dabbing, apparently. 

Nope - Gen Alpha has it, hands down.  Ten years from now they will be recalling the time that school shut down indefinitely.  The time that Mom and Dad (attempted very poorly) to be their teachers. The time where jammies ruled the day, and ice cream parties were dinner.  The time where we drew rainbows for the windows and wrote letters instead of visiting. The time where “I wouldn’t touch you with a 6 foot pole” became the rule, not a suggestion,  and none of their friends could come over to play. The time where they talked to Grandpa via Skype, even though he lived down the road. Whatever the age or their point of view....normal was no longer normal.

For the adults raising those kids,it became the time of the unknown.  Where life turned on a dime and what was normal yesterday was done with today (or even an hour ago).  Depending on the circumstance - a time of fear, of deep breaths, and of an intense digging deep to survive - on a physical, economical and emotional level.

I've been one of the lucky ones.  My job is essential (thank goodness someone recognizes this).  Our kids are young enough to know no more than some people aren’t feeling very well and that we are on an adventure which requires creativity and a different way of doing school, play and life in order to stay healthy and to keep others healthy.  There's lots of throwing any normalcy out the window, many melt downs ( yep, even with the 4 and 6 year old) and lots of hugs and snuggles to cope with the uncertainties.

Regardless of how you feel about the whole thing - in terms of how the state, country and world are handling it - it’s been a time to dig deep and stay positive...reaching within your reserves to keep some sense of normalcy - whether it be putting on pants every day (fail), not eating all your cookies in one sitting (double fail) or getting out and doing something to stay sane (is running 40 miles a week and biking nowhere 7 plus hours staying sane?  No? TRIPLE FAIL.)

Guys, I'm not gonna lie.  I've been struggling. I think it's partially because I like to believe I have some form of say over my life - whether it be making choices for my family, at work, my marriage, or my life goals - and I just....don't right now.  Not only is there a lack of knowing when and if life will ever return to "normal", it seems that everyone has some conjecture about how long this will last with little, if any, solid evidence to back it up. School won't be in session until September.  No races until 2021. We won't gather in groups for another 18 months. No more handshakes, ever.

It's really disheartening.  Even if you strip out the desire to have some solid answer (which won't happen), the concept of hope right now is downright dangerous and quite often, laughed at.  It doesn't matter who you are or what choices you are making, somehow, you are wrong for them. The judgement going on in the world right now makes me not only doubt myself as a reasonably intelligent human being, it makes me want to throw my phone out the window, light my computer on fire, and escape to a deserted island with my husband and kids.  

And my natural optimism is fading.  I remember on my first week of training post March 13 (basically known as "the day the world decided to stand still") and I struggled to figure out why I was doing what I was doing.  What was I training for? Why was I doing this?

I came up with the answer pretty quickly - it was life.  I love what I do so much that I knew hanging onto this small sense of sanity was necessary.  As the weeks have gone by, oddly enough, I find myself getting physically stronger and stronger, but my mind - the mental strength that I pride myself in - is fading.  

I remember my first Ironman.  My first ultra marathon. When the finish line seemed so far away and I had to put myself in my own "space" to section off the miles and get through them one at a time to make it to that end goal - the finish line! - in one spot.  The "hurt locker" that every athlete faces is real - and if you can't count on your mind to talk you into a reason to get to the finish, your body will come up with enough reasons to quit.

That was all well and good.  I learned, over the subsequent ultras, how to control my mind and to remember the end goal - the finish.  Then I got pregnant. I figured labor was much like an ultra - mental toughness and BAM! Goal reached.  

But they don't give you an estimated finish time with labor.  Doesn't matter how much you train, how fit you are, what kind of " race plan" you have going into it - you have no idea how long that ultra will last.  With kid #1 it was 33 hours. Kid #....about 5 (I have no favorite children. That's my official stance).  

Still, at the end, you have the most beautiful post race prize you could ever want - a perfect little human that you love more than life itself (now is not the time to talk about having two kids in quarantine.  Stop it).

This....has neither.  I'm constantly feeling like a fish out of water (which is pretty accurate, as we can't swim right now) - no clear direction, no ability to navigate life, and completely out of my element.  It sucks.

And the fishies in aero....what a little overacheiver!

I've been sitting with this feeling for awhile.  Trying to make sense of the world around me and the choices that are being made to battle this epidemic (it didn't work.  I'll leave it at that.) Trying to find some modicum of hope or a sense of "normal" via texting with friends, planning virtual races (which are a far cry from anything I love doing, but connecting virtually is the only way to do this), and joining online communities for running where we post funny pictures, motivational words, and silly dances. 

This afternoon, I had a 9 mile run on tap.  It's been a horrible week. Our funding at work has been cut in half, they are furloughing staff and implementing pay cuts (which hasn't happened to me yet, thank goodness, but my some of my co-workers are not so lucky), my poor kids are off the walls and can't understand why Easter won't be the same this year, and my husband and I stare at each other, helpless to come up with any concrete answers.  

I stepped outside into the dreary day - complete with heavy winds and gray skies -  to get my run done. Why? Who knows. I'm certainly not looking toward a finish line anytime soon.  Not looking for a PR. Not even able to meet up with my best buddy to log some miles and talk through any of this.  Why am I doing this?

For fun, I decided to run point to point along the lake- a place I have loved ever since I was a kid and now that I am lucky to live next to.  The husband planned a pick up spot 9 miles out, and I was off. It was windy - though a cross wind or tail wind, which was good. Taking it easy, my HR spiked.  F*ck it. I picked it up - and mile 2 was an 8:19 (about 40 seconds faster than my easy pace). F*ck it. As I logged the miles, the sun peaked in and out over the lake.  The angry waves became whitecaps. I smiled at the sun. Stared at the water. Had a good cry somewhere around mile 4. As I ventured out further to where I had only biked before, I took deep breaths and thought about my rides out here last year.  Where I started to learn to love the bike. Where I did the “big scary things” of 2019 that made it the best year ever. In the last two miles of the run, I hit the “hills of Ginna” - two beastly hills that suck on a bike - and powered up them with a force I didn’t know I had.   I was on a mission. I had no idea my pace. No idea of my HR. It honestly felt effortless. I hit mile 9 at the top of the hill and took my run the extra .18 cause who runs up a hill without running back down it.

The husband picked up a sweaty, happy runner, flushed with success of a great run, intent be damned.  

An hour later I found out that my A race - my Ironman in August - was almost certainly cancelled.  

I’m feeling a bit numb right now.  It’s not the race. There will be other Ironmans.  I’m quite certain at this point my whole 2020 race season will end up being one fantastic 2021 season.

But I don’t know.  And that’s the whole feeling of 2020.  Can we still live life to some semblance with everything being so unknown?

I had started the afternoon with a heavy heart that lifted during a run with no limits.  

And now I’m reminded that there are, in fact, limitors.  Lots of them. And that there are no answers.  

I’d like to say that I have some words of wisdom.  A nugget of optimism. But I don’t. Right now I’m grieving this.  And not the race. Honestly, I don’t give a shit if I race an Ironman this year.  But I’m sitting here, trying to find something. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure it’s out there. 

Hey World, Don't Give Up. I know we an get through this. Somehow.

Confessions of a Triathlete: The Pandemic Edition

Welcome to the Pandemic zone.  As we all know, the past week or so has been crazier than anything I could even dream up to write.  Obviously, like much of the world, my life has been in a constant state of upheaval for the last two weeks - there's no school, my husband is out of work, all the races are cancelled, and we look out the windows with a sense of trepidation...and at our news outlets with the "Alright, WTF we doin' now" sense of disbelief.

It's been unreal.  Welcome to COVID-19.  While I am in no way, shape or form, fit to give anyone advice on how to make it through this time, I've learned a few things along the way about living for the moment, appreciating the small things, and taking deep breaths.  We could get into a great discussion about that.  But it wouldn't really be my style, would it?

One of the things I really am grateful for is the ability to run and bike and swim.  Aside from the fact that all pools closed as of Saturday and I'm not (quite) nuts enough to jump into the lake, I am still in full swing biking (indoors) and running (outdoors, as long as they let me!). I'll be honest...last week I had a few days of WTF am I doing out here, as all of my 2020 races are uncertain.  What am I training for??  Then I realized how damned much I love what I do, and rather than training for an event, I was Training for LIFE.

 I went on a gorgeous 14 mile run yesterday, and in the sunshiney goodness, I spent a few glorious hours reflecting and thinking about how darned lucky I am.  And I also realized....it's gonna be okay.  I'm gonna be okay.  I'm sure you all will be as well, but I have to be honest here, as a triathlete, I have a set of very specific skills that make me a primo candidate for pandemic survival.  It's just science.*

You know what it's time for....some good ole confessions!  It's been a long time since I've posted a confessions blog, so in case you forgot (what a dork I am) here are a few goodies:

Confessions from an Ironman Mommy (Then vs. now)

Confessions of a Triathlete with a baby!

Confessions of a (Very) Pregnant Triathlete

And now, it's time for Confessions of a Triathlete: The Pandemic Edition

I posit that MOST triathletes are well equipped for Pandemic Survival.  Here's why:

1. We Social Distance EXTREMELY well:  You all know I'm an introvert.  I can happily not talk to anyone for days.  Honestly, this is true for most triathletes (as far as the ones that I know!)  We ride for 4-6 hours at a time, solo, lost in the middle of desolate roads, usually with very few cars even passing by.  We spend hours in the basement, riding a bike trainer, ALONE, and NOT GOING ANYWHERE.  We disappear for two plus hour long runs without a word to anyone.  We log solo miles on the hampster wheel treadmill.  When forced, we also spend hours at the pool, where its pretty much impossible to talk to anyone during a 10x200 set on the 3:10 send off (I've tried.  It doesn't end well).  Social distancing for us is....uh...normal life.

2.  Our Sport Mandates that we go at it alone for the largest portion of the race.  During a triathlon, we can swim right on top of each other (though most athletes really don't get into deep conversations while jockeying for space in a small lake), we can run together (albiet by the run *most* of us don't care to really carry on conversation (I do.  But I'm weird.  You knew that)), but the longest portion of our race is the bike leg, which, according to triathlon rules, you must keep 12 meters of space between your bike and another athletes bike unless passing them (which you must do within 25 seconds).  So, for an Ironman bike of 112 miles, we practice excellent social distancing for 5 plus hours at a time.  We have plenty of practice to prevent the spread of this virus!

3.  In general, we really don't like the swim anyways.  One of the first steps taken during this outbreak was the closure of all gyms...aka....pools.  Triathletes were sad about this for maybe 30 seconds until we realized that most triathletes suck at swimming and are, in fact, horrible swimmers to begin with.  This provides a great excuse to escape the most hated discipline of the sport and focus on the other two that we actually do prefer to do....bring on the biking and running....sorry coach, I really CANT swim!!
 (Note:  I actually miss the hell out of the pool.  I'll turn in my triathlete card now.)  
(Note 2:  Out of the three sports, I prefer the bike the least.  This pandemic has given me no absolutely no excuse to opt out of that one...in fact...I'm now biking six days a week. Whoops.  So much for #3).  

4.  As runners, we figured out the "No TP" thing a long time ago.  It's a matter of fact.  When you run, your mid section gets....um...jostled.  Especially when you run fast...or long...or both.  Every runner has a story of a long run potty stop gone wrong.  (Mine just happens to be better than most, as it involved using Poison Ivy as TP.  Note: I DO NOT recommend this).  Either way, we have all popped a squat or used leaves as emergency TP (even if most people are, um, smarter than me with their choice of leaves).  Lack of TP does not stop us.  I should mention at this point that most of us a pretty gross anyways and lack any sense of normal human decency like wearing real clothes or showering at regular intervals.  I do feel sorry for our significant others (but that's another story entirely).

5.  We are Highly Equipped for this whole "Work from Home" thing.  We basically hate pants.  We have no fashion sense.  Most of our wardrobe consists of race shirts, anyways.  With the lack of expectation to go to an actual office, we can justify wearing our workout clothes 24/7.  Showers optional (see above for the whole "pretty gross" reference.). 90% of my work wardrobe consists of running shorts, a sports bra, and some marathon shirt from 2011.  Why do you think they call me "Pants"?  (That's um....actually another story too. But now's not the time for that).

6.  We can live off of food that expires in 2033.  Our entire diet basically consists of sports drink, Gu's, and other pre packaged "Sports beans....gummies..." etc., AKA simple sugar digestibles that last forever.  We can subsist off of these...um...culinary delights for up to 17 hours at a time for an ultra, and of course, use them judiciously in training sessions so that we can prep our stomachs for racing.  Clearly, we also have a highly developed palate.  Or...not.  But we can certainly survive off of whatever scraps the masses have left behind at Wegmans.  I'm also not afraid to eat the powerbar from 2011 I found at the bottom of my tri bag. True Story.  I'm not that bright.  You also knew that.

7.  When we F*ck Up Social Distancing, at least its only with Avatars.  Right now, our state is on lock down and you MUST exercise alone.  I did a great social distancing run in the snow and sleet this morning.  Seriously, not a soul out.  Score.  My husband (who really is smarter) decided to stay warm and get his workout in indoors on the bike trainer.  Let's just say that these guys on Zwift....don't follow social distancing well.  At all.  Look at those avatars.  Riding right next to each other without a care in the world. At least the Corona doesn't spread virtually.  Yet.  (Oh no...).

Aside from all the jokes, I hope everyone is doing as well as can be right now.  It's been a tough time and at our home, we are dealing with it with a ton of togetherness, understanding, deep breaths, laughs, and as much snuggling as we can (we live together.  It's ok).  We also really are practicing social distancing and following the guidelines set out by the CDC and NYS as they come out.  We will all get through this together (separately, in our own homes) and I am here (virtually) if anyone needs to chat, vent, or a bad meme to get them through this (I'm really good at the last one.  Please pick that one. )

Stay safe!

*Note:  All "Confessions" posts are meant to be tongue in cheek.  Iswear I'm not this big of a jerk in real life.

**Though....to be fair.....you'll have to take my word on that for a pretty long time #socialdistancing

Step One: Base Building

So, I'd like to personally thank you if you made it through that last post.  Seriously.  I owe you one.  That post was nothing more than the transition to write the post I really wanted to (this one).  Somehow the whole move from Sunrise to Webster felt unfinished in blog format, so a bit more navel gazing and boring life rambling was in order (as if my posts are ever any different. But I digress.).

Moving on....it would seem I have somehow promised some good stuff to come, and here we go!  (The pressure.  It's on).

Over the past few weeks, my life has somewhat settled down from the mess I created in 2019.  The whole process of our move really threw a wrench in all my fine tuned plans with respect to how I had laid out my short and long term goals, and I walked away with a lot of anxiety, plenty of unhealthy coping mechanisms, and in the midst of (finally) working through some reflection, a few preliminary conclusions.

I'm far from any real conclusions, but it seems rife for some blogging, as I am sure that many of you have gone through the same things.  I remember last year at this time, looking at everything I wanted out of 2019 and just going for it.  I also remember being inordinately pleased with myself through all the perseverance, hard work, and results.

Boy, have I been humbled this year.  I look back at 2019 and realize that all the goals and dreams I had might have been big and scary in my estimation at the time, but they all had one thing in common - they were within my control.

This year, so far, has been filled with things that no matter how hard I try to work through, are completely beyond my control.  And I found that when I can't make a plan, organize a way to overcome something, and just go for it, that I spiral into a pit of anxiety that makes it difficult to accomplish anything - I let it affect me physically, mentally and emotionally.

The past few months of training have been dismal (note: not everyone agrees with my assessment on this, but, my body, my call here).  I finished last years season in high spirits about everything.  Do ALL the races.  Have ALL the PR's.   I signed up for a spring marathon to BQ, an early summer 70.3 to PR, a summer Ironman to PR, and a fall 70.3 to break 5 hours (hey, remember when I doubted breaking six)?

Slow down, killer.  Riding off of the high of 2019 that was filled with amazing new friends, training buddies, awesome PR's, an insane amount of fun, and bad life decisions that easily made it the best year I've had in decades - I was totally unstoppable.

Not only did I forget that race season is cyclical, so is life.  And that there is a natural order of ups and downs that happen in every aspect of it.  I went from a super high filled with all of the fun things - outside fun time weather, get togethers every single weekend, killing it at all the races, and feeling so full of spirit with my whole life - to....reality.  Or, actually, less than reality. Cause the higher the highs...the lower the lows, right??

My buddies went to work double shifts.  Stopped visiting every weekend for races and debauchery.  I got caught up in over time and busy season at work. Our text threads about racing came to a halt.  It got cold. Life got stressful.  I started to internalize everything that was happening in my life that I couldn't "fix" and had daily anxiety bouts.  My former way of coping with life - to go for a run - somehow didn't fix things.  It was no longer a release.  It was somehow only an addition to my anxiety - my heart rate soaring, breathing difficult, and every single run akin to race effort (even when running "easy pace"), culminating in some runs where I would be holding a 9 minute mile, gasping for breath, with my HR way above race pace.

I got slower in the pool.  My bike remained stagnant, mayyybee slightly improving, but I think that has more to do with being stubborn than anything else - it all hurt, but since the bike is my kryptonite, it served as a small piece of salvation to my 2020 "vision"  in a training world of shambles.

Thank God for the support of my crew, or I might have tanked totally.  With a great combination of tough love, daily check ins, and the unfailing support of my friends and family with the array of my bullshit, I might have totally thrown in the towel and cried into my bowl of cheetos.  (Well, I did that a few times.  See the prior sentence about how damned lucky I am to have such a great support crew).

I did a few intelligent things here.  I dropped the idea of a BQ from my Spring marathon. I then dropped the Spring marathon to a half marathon, as I realized the big goal for 2020 was triathlon, NOT BQing.  I took a few days off from running (that has everything to do with the fact that my coach has a level head.  At least I had the brains to hire him).  And I closed my eyes to my HR on my runs and tried so very hard to listen to my body.

Last week, I finally climbed out of the hole and had a string of good workouts.  Success!!

And I'll take it.  The moral of the story here is....base building.  The every day background work of the off season - whether its a get down to work in terms of life (moving, setting up a life in a new area, getting back into a "routine") or the base building coming off of an off-season to prep for the big dance of a new season of racing. It's all necessary work, though its really tough to wrap your head around it.

Base building is the work that happens behind the scenes.  It's the daily grind of skill building, creating a sustainable base  of strength and fitness (yeah, there has to be a better word, but it failed me) of steady work to support the big goals you have for the season.

It's not fast work.  It's not flashy work.  It's not the Instagrammable "look what I did" work with impressive splits and a smiling, sweaty selfie that garners external validation. It's internal.  It's your "why" that you keep telling yourself when it gets hard.  It's mind strength.  It's quiet, unsexy work that allows you to pop out those summer races and ride the high of the sport to the potential you are capable of when it REALLY matters.

As I go through this base building phase, I'm brought back to my original roots of this blog - back when I called base building "Adaptation Stage One".  It's the same concept.  It's looking ahead to what you want to accomplish, taking seven zillion steps back, and then making that dream a reality, one baby step at a time, making it stick.

It's doing the work.  It's putting yourself in the environment you need to make that happen.  It's the 6am bike rides with the scenery of the basement walls.  It's going out for runs in the rain with a 20mph headwind.  It's sitting poolside at 4:30pm on a Friday when all you really want is a good drink and some simple carbs after the shitty week you've had.

It's maintaining those relationships with those that understand you best, and being aware that, as life cycles, so will the friendships - and that there will be another summer of fun, of racing bikes, of open water swims, of post race bonfires.  And that, like any part of life, the base building you are doing now will pay great dividends down the line for all of that fun.

So I'll do the unsexy workouts.  I'll check my ego.  I'll wallpaper my phone and computer with reminders of what I'm aiming for, and keep them on the horizon as I choose to drink water over soda, pick out foods to help make me strong, or decide to turn my phone off at 9pm to nail that high powered bike on tap for the next morning.

Because this is where the magic starts.  And this year....is gonna be pure magic.  

Running On Empty

So, if you know me at all, you know I function on three things - running (and sorta biking and swimming), sarcasm, and caffeine.  It's science.  Or being a mom.  Or having a ridiculously crammed full life where I refuse to stop for a second to breathe.  Ever.  Something like that.  The last few weeks have been a fine mix of all three - which one is saving my sanity, I'll never know, but I suspect they all play their part.  Whatever it is, I keep running, that's for sure.

New Adventures in the new home!

When we last left our hero (me?) I was busy running from one crazy scenario to another - even though I continually posit that life is gonna calm down in 2020, I sure don't help make that happen.  Greg and I moved out of our first home a few weeks ago and launched into life in our new dream house, fraught with all of the wonderful ups and downs that go with new home ownership - shitty sellers, random glitches with school schedules, new routines and even though it's only 15 miles from my old house - new grocery stores (don't get me started on this), utility companies, and neighbors.

New House Toast!

Whew.  Luckily, we have a cache of amazing people that made the whole actual move possible - come move day we had a dozen friends who showed up for twelve hours of manual labor with minimal bitching and all they asked for (ok, we gave it without asking) was carbs and beer (which is technically a carb but deserves it's own credit!)  We woke up at Sunrise Dr at 6am and went to sleep at our new home at 11pm - a whole house moved in one day with minimal glitches (thanks for your sense of humor, guys!)

Marcus, always our lucky guy :)

That was two weeks ago - the end of a little chapter that took the better part of the last four months of our lives and upended it into something totally unrecognizable.  I haven't blogged much about things since then, because to be blunt about it, I'm having a tough time managing to keep all my balls up in the air (TWSS?). Post move,first I got sick.  Then Greg got sick. Then the kids did.  And since then we have had a slew of issues related to work, the house sale, injury and training, and a million other small things that have crept up, throwing our world off kilter. I'm not alone on this one - it seems that even when you claim to be an endurance athlete, you have your limits.  And I found that when I hit them, I hit them hard.  Everyone's got a breaking point where they run out of reserves.

Which led me back in time. Back in 2011, Greg did his first Ironman at Lake Placid.   If you aren't familiar with the area, its a damned gorgeous venue - I've done the race twice and it never fails to amaze.  The swim is pristine, the bike has amazing mountain views, and the run is iconic.  The race finishes at the Olympic Oval, and one of the tests of the marathon is at mile 24 (which is mile 138 of mile 140 of the whole race) you turn right on the course - 400 yards from the finish - and have to do a mile out and back before you can become an Ironman.  This feature is both inspiring (you are almost there!  You can hear the finish line!  You WILL be an Ironman!) and also disheartening (you are almost there!  You are NOT YET THERE THOUGH!)

The finish line of an Ironman is a party.  More so at Lake Placid than any other race I've ever seen.  There's music.  There's shouting.  There's dancing (not usually by those finishing, but hey, it happens).  Nine years ago, Greg was a 14:40 finisher.  At mile 24, he could see the finish line.  He could hear the music.  Ironman, in their infinite wisdom to encourage athletes, when Greg hit upon that pivotal mile, chose the tune "Running on Empty" by Jackson Browne as music inspo to blast on the loudspeakers for all competitors in proximity to hear.

Yep.  You heard that right.  WTF.

I don't know where I'm running now, I'm just....running on...running on empty

Super appropriate.  Super unnecessary. Talk about having to dig deep in your headspace, as EVERYONE at mile 138 is literally running on empty! And somehow, he finished those last two miles of the race and had his moment of glory. He got through it and tasted victory.  He WAS AN IRONMAN.

And that's me right now.  Somehow I know I'm at mile 24.  I can see the finish line.  There, is, in fact, light at the end of the oval tunnel.  After months and months, some of the pieces are falling into place.  The kids are in school.  Half the boxes are unpacked.  For the first time in months, I'm able to set aside the crazy anxiety that the last four months have been and have a decent run (which is really important, as the season officially starts in two weeks at Running of the Green 5 Miler!)

Training in Webster with my new crew - they keep me on my toes!

So, I'll keep running on
- running on empty
- running blind
- and running into the sun.... somehow it'll get me to the finish line of this phase of life, and onto the next Ironman - this one really lasting 140.6 and no more!

Sunrise, Sunset

So, here's a little known "Rae fact" - back in the days or yore (is that really a thing?  It sounds lovely) I used to be quite the thespian (quiet your teenaged boy.  That's ACTOR, people).  Starting at the young age of 12, I participated in the local theatre guild and my school musicals/drama club until I graduated form high school.  My range of talents include tap dancing orphan (Annie), a singing, jigging rabbit (Peter Pan), pure royalty (Princess and the Pea...oh, the irony!), and a maven of Jewish culture and rebellion (Fiddler on the Roof).

Eventually, the town and the school realized I can't really sing, I aged out of being adorable (yikes), so that season has passed for me.  But my typecast of Hodel in "Fiddler on the Roof" still remains one of my favorites, if only for the spirited dancing and spirited music selection.

As I went for my daily run yesterday morning, I forewent the usually poppy crap I listen to and tuned into my surroundings.  There's a good reason for this.  Amidst all of my random musings on 2020 and being overwhelmed, one of the main reasons is this:

You got it.  As a final holdover of 2019 and my crazy, jump off a cliff year, we put our home up for sale.  Long story short, Greg and I found a wonderful house in Webster, a town about 10 miles away - its close to the lake, the home of my dreams, and in the town I grew up in - which has a ton of activities for the kids and a great school system.  We sold our home back in December and close on the new house today - tomorrow will be a whirlwind of moving, and we will say goodbye to our first home.

It's been a crazy process, but even with the roller coaster of ups and downs, I know we have made the right decision.  It hasn't always been easy (as I type this at 4am, the morning of closing, with a sick kid throwing up next to me, a cracked tooth, and a house that is 90% packed) but like most things worth doing, the tough parts keep my eyes focused on the end goal.

I can't wait to share our new house with you....but today, for me, is all about the journey we've had on Sunrise Drive.  This was our first home ten years ago, as a newlywed couple.  We had no idea what we were doing.  We pulled into the driveway with a little U Haul full of all of our apartment college style possessions, and Greg carried me over the threshold to begin our new life together.

Over the last decade, the house purchase became a home.  I trained for, and completed my first Ironman while running and riding these roads (as a matter of fact, I got so lost on my first training run I ran 10 miles instead of 5....whoops!).  We hosted several holidays a year for family and friends. On a walk through the neighborhood in 2012, I told Greg we were going to have our first child.  We brought both kids home from the hospital to this home - and through many sleepless nights, baby snuggles, bumps and bruises, laughs, and priceless moments - watched both kids grow from infancy, baby stages, toddlerhood and off to their first days of school.

The playground in the backyard and the "sledding hill" have seen so much love.  The driveway tells the tale of hopscotch games, road races, and first bike adventures. There have been so many memorable nights of hosting parties (and a few too many drinks suring some where the memories have a few holes!)  The creation of a new friends group that are now like family.  School events, community events, breakfasts with Santa, dance classes, birthday parties and swim lessons.  This past ten years have been so full of life and love, and this home has seen it all- it saw the beginning of a marriage and has now resulted in a full family, complete with two crazy cats running around - chaos, unity, laughter, heartache, achievements, and everything in between.

On my 6 mile loop yesterday, I ran my favorite neighborhoods, and thought about all of the wonderful memories we have seen on Sunrise Dr. and in Gananda. (Otherwise known as the "fighting duck" run!)

  I chuckled as I tackled the hills of Gananda and remembered how, years ago, I could not make it up several of the long ones without walking - and as I glanced at my watch, I was easily maintaining an 8 minute mile.  Oh how far everything has come in ten years.  I teared up when I passed my best friends home, and smiled as I passed our sitter's home, who has become family to us.  I marveled at the "mountain views" we have at the top of the hill and relished the memories the local farm held of Rob and Biz's first ice cream and corn maze.  Rounding out the final mile, I passed the school where both my kids were in attendance....and welled up with emotion at the span of everything the last ten years has brought.  I finished the run on Sunset Drive, which, as our neighboring street, was a great cool down walk and also the perfect representation of our time at Gananda, which had come full cirlcle.  As I walked the street toward my home, I thought about Tevye's song long ago from "Fiddler on the Roof" that was sympatico with my mix of emotions.

Sunrise, Sunset

Swiftly fly the years

One season following another

Laden with happiness and tears

It's been an amazing mix of seasons in Gananda....laden with so much that we have experienced through the years.  I'm going to miss the house that was our first home, the growing and learning that we have done, and all of the beautiful memories.  Walking up my driveway, I noticed the footprints of both my kids in the snow that they had left when they boarded the bus that morning, of my husband as he got in the car to go to work, and mine as I headed out to run.  And it was such a beautiful mish mosh of "The Glaser Fam" that I know will follow to our new home and all of the adventures that await us there. 

I paused and had a "Mom moment", and remembered the wise words of my 6 year old, every time I ask him to stop growing. His response...."But Mom, that's what people do!  They grow!".  Yes they do, buddy.  They grow and move on to the next adventure, the next beautiful moment that will become an amazing memory, like all of the ones that we have had on Sunrise. And they smile at those memories for the happiness they brought, live in the moment, and make each day a beautiful experience in this dance of life.

Wise kid.  I came in from the cold, brewed a cup of coffee, and sat at the kitchen table for a moment, enjoying one of my last sunrises on Sunrise Dr.  And then got up and moving.  On to the next adventure we go!

Keep Going

So....I'm still here.  In case you were worried...  I did not, in fact, pack it all up and move to Tahiti after my last post.  I thought about it though.  Not gonna lie.  The drama of January continued right until it's sorry end yesterday, when thankfully we closed the door on that miserable month and can now properly begin 2020.  Whew.  It seems, in fact, there was some sort of full moon for the entire damned month - there is not a single person I know who didn't look at January and go "What the f*ck was THAT??"

I suppose that should be comfort.

It really wasn't.  But, thankfully, its over.  And while 2020 did not have the most auspicious start, I'm confident that it still will be a damned fabulous year.  Let's do this.

I also think I figured out the problem - a hangover from 2019, in fact.

This.  Spot on.  In 2020, it seems that the issues have come fast and furious from so many different areas.  That can't be helped.  Sometimes people get sick, work sucks, the kids have school issues, your training isn't going well, and friends and family members are not the supportive loving units you hope.

I can't control that.  What I can control is what I decide to battle over.  And I led swinging into so many battles in January it not only completely defeated me, it robbed me of any joy, inertia, or the desire to do anything really.  I was defeated.  And it totally sucked.  And unlike 2019, I think the combo of the January funk, the moods of the people around me, and general life malaise just sapped any energy I had to feel any better about anything.

Yesterday, as fate would have it, I snapped.  One too many things went wrong with my world, and the one piece that I had left - my escape hatch - my training - crapped the bed.  I wasn't injured.  I wasn't physically hurt.  My mental state had so far gone that the simplest things - actually remembering what ride I was supposed to do (and having to stop mid way because I'm an idiot and can't read time properly) - or the fact that I could not, in fact, breathe underwater - completely escaped me.  It. sucked.

So first, keep in mind, right now most of my problems right now are admittedly first world - but they are the proverbial straw that broke the camels back.  Nothing is "easy" these days.  I know that in life, there will always be things above the "line of suck" - places we excel at.  I also know that there will inevitably be things that fall below the line and well....suck.  So if you are having a kick ass time at work and with your kids.....your marriage might be going through a rough time and you have no time to workout or eat well.  Life happens.  The trick is.....not to let too much fall below the line of suck...or the same things for too long.  It's ok to immerse yourself in work for a big project and then pick back up on running later.  It's also ok to train for an ultra and let a few things slide for a time.  But it's MOST important to not let the big things fall below the line for too long - family, friends, and your health.  I'm glad to say that I never let it get too far - but there were times when those hovered below the line....too far below the line.  And lately, it was mostly my health taking a toll - my emotional and mental health hit a new low this past month - and with the help of simple carbs and other shitty junk food, my physical health was going with it.  Yikes.  That stuff adds up.

I have no magic bullet to fix any of these things. But, as always, I am somehow damned lucky enough to have amazing people in my life that step in just when I need them the most.    Luckily, this time around, I was able to get back on my own two feet with a few things - a hefty swing up from  wonderful friends and a new mindset.

Yesterday, when I hit rock bottom, one of my buddies patiently listened as I bawled to him about all of my life "problems"...without a word, he just sat and listened as I vented.  I heard none of "this too shall pass" crap, or any life advice (he really is a good egg, despite all the shit I give him).  At the end of it, he took a deep breath and said "Rae...you're training...no....you're in the middle of an ironman.  Right now, this is an intense spot in your life and it's the part when it's not if something's going to go wrong....it will.  You are not out of the woods yet.  You haven't even hit the marathon.  You're on the bike.  You're spinning out.  Keep your head in the game, your heart in the game, push through that marathon, and as always, you will come out the other side stronger.".  Damn.  All the feels there.  And he's right.  I hit the dark spot that every athlete hits at some point during the Ironman - and relying on my strategy of mental fixes was what was going to get me out.  But how do I do that?  Last year - the "Big Scary" year - reminded me that shit can be frightening, but I can do it.  I'm past that year.  And my self proclaimed mantra of "Clear Vision" was not only the hallmark shtick card of 2020, it didn't fit.  How was I going to get where I needed to??

I should know better to answer that one alone.  While my one buddy gave me an arm up to find the answers, another one actually gave me the answer, they just didn't know it.  As always, in the course of inside jokes, nicknames, and anything worth holding onto, the 2020 mantra came out of pure happenstance.  It's simply put.  Keep Going.

When you want to to quit.  When it seems hard.  When it's 5am and time to swim.  When you got no sleep and are surviving a presentation on 3 cups of coffee and sheer will.  When the school calls you for the millionth time that week.  When you get into a giant fight with your co-worker and have to keep the tears out of your voice so you don't seem weak.  When you let go of a relationship that you've held onto for too long because it isn't healthy anymore.

You. Just. Keep. Going.

And while this particular mantra was passed off in the most casual, joking, random way, I woke up this morning with it right behind my eyes, ready.  I got on my bike, which has been extremely aggressive and power based lately - its my kryptonite in the multi sport world, so under the guidance of my coach, we are fixing it.  Today's ride featured four 8 minute segments and near full power, with 4 speed bursts in each set at 200% power.  I had slept for 4 hours.  I ate like shit last night.  My anxiety woke me up in a cold sweat at 3am, and I had not been back to sleep since.  I looked the workout dead in the eyes and got on my bike (snacks by the wayside to toss at kids, since I was on parenting duty).  And I kept going.

Every time it got hard, I would repeat the words "Keep Going.  Keep Going. Keep Going".  It wasn't an option.  There was no calling a halt.  No bailing.  No words to indicate "stop" in my vocab.  None of that shit.  Just. keep. going.

And I totally did.  

I climbed off the bike with a grin on my face and for the first time in a long time, a smile in my heart.  It's not the end of the Ironman - I still have ways to go before my life will calm down.  But I have the the will to move forward.  A shift in mindset.  A deep breath.

And, of course, with a song.  Who actually knew something simple would be a song?

 You'll keep going on, cause it's what you've always done.  

Damned right I will.  2020 - Keep Going.  No bailouts.  

It's time to take a deep breath, stare it right in the eyes, and keep going.

And with that - Happy New Year to everyone.  It's gonna be a FANTASTIC YEAR. 

I'm ready to tackle this year - let's do this!