Exceeding Expectations

At the annual family reunion, I was discussing my affection for triathlons with an uncle of Wade's.  He kept asking why I did them if there was no chance of me winning.  He was wondering if I could actually win one if I hired a coach and if I put in more time training.

In short, he thought it was silly that I would pay money and devote time (but apparently not enough time) to something that I knew I wasn't going to win.

I sorta shrugged it off, but the truth is that the conversation has bothered me for most of the summer.  I was signed up to do my annual triathlon out here in Stansbury, but I knew I wasn't going to win.  And I did spend some time wondering if I was just wasting time and money.

But, oh well.  I love the race and I love the competition and I'll probably keep doing it because of those factors and not because I have any hope of winning.

So Saturday was the annual triathlon.  I had one goal--take 1st place in  the age category.  Since it's such a small event, it's the same competitors--more or less--every year.  For example, I know who the top three women are going to be.  And there's no glimmer of hope to break into the top three.  But, my main competitor in the age category had taken the year off to have a baby--the joys of being in the 20-29 age group--and I figured this was my year to take the top seat there at least.

Last year, I was pretty middle ground in all three events.  I was expecting the same thing this year.  I had put more time on the bike but I wasn't expecting any big leaps in that area.  I had a specific time goal for the bike, but it was pretty lofty and dependable on weather conditions being perfect.

So Saturday, it was a gorgeous--windy--morning.  Wind not really being your friend in the biking department, but at least it wasn't raining like last year.  I arrived at the lake, pumped up and ready to go.  My parents came out to watch and took some  good pictures for me.

This is my training buddy, C (the other one, H, was out of town).

I had borrowed a wetsuit from a friend to see if that really helped in the water.  The jury is still out, but part of the problem was that it wasn't a triathlon-specific suit. 

Wetsuits have a way of making everyone look hot!

There were two waves of swimmers and I was in wave 2.  Wave 1 started and then we got into the lake to get ready for our turn.

About three minutes after the first wave of swimmers left, the buzzer went off for us to go.  I had forgotten to take off my watch and lost it in the first 5 seconds of the swim. :(  But, overall, the swim went as well as can be expected.  It's the event that's the toughest for me.  I did a little bit better than last year, but not as well as I had wanted.  I'm not sure what the key to becoming a better swimmer is, but I'm going to have to research it. 

I swam along, gulping lake water like it was fresh spring water and praying that the ducks that had so serenely passed us right before we started didn't lay anything fresh in the water. 

On the last straightaway I finally found my groove and was able to pass the guy that I had been swimming neck to neck with the entire way.  Eventually I made my way to the shore and the race was on.

Hey where is everyone else?

The funny thing about triathlons are those silly transitions.  You can know what you're suppose to do in your mind, but unless you practice the transitions, you really don't know.

And since I didn't practice those silly transitions, we can all guess how I did in those.

The swim to bike transition was a little chaotic.  I had to peel of the wetsuit, put on my clothes (Ha!  Made you look.  No I wasn't nekkid under the wetsuit, I was wearing bikini bottoms and a sports bra), put on my biking shoes and my helmet and get going on the bike.

The top ladies--40 seconds.  Me? 2:48.  Could use some work here.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I left on my bike.

Just a reminder:  My bike was one of the cheapest road bikes I could find anywhere.  I wrote about it and the reasons why I chose it here.  And I can't say that I've been disappointed in my bike, but I do know there are a lot better bikes out there. 

So off I went on my bike.  The wind had started back up and it was a little hard to get in a groove, but it really helped that there were cops and crossing guards at all intersections so I didn't even have to slow down and obey traffic laws.  It also helped that I knew the course like the back of my hand.  I could ride it with my eyes closed.  To date, my fastest time on the course was 41:40 (12 miles).  I was really hoping to go sub-40 minutes for the race, but I figured with the wind, it was a long shot. 

I had six friends doing the triathlon with me this year.  When I left on my bike, there were four ahead of me on their bikes.  I passed two of them on the course and started thinking it would be cool (for me, not them) if I passed the other two on the bike even though they were (a) in the first wave of swimmers, so an automatic 3 minute head start and (b) considerably better swimmers than me.  So they had about a 7 minute headstart. So I hunkered down and rode as fast as I could.  I passed one more and caught sight of the last one right at the turn around.  It took a little bit to catch up with her because it was downhill, but at 28 mph I did.  I passed her and then just kept chugging along.  As I was coming down the last little bit, I realized that I was going to be really close to breaking my 40 minute time goal. 

As I crested the last little hill, I saw my mom and waved at her.  She just kept looking at me and then it finally dawned on her that it was me and she did manage to snap a picture of me coming in on my bike.

Here's another funny thing:  Somewhere in the last few miles of the bike ride, I made the conscious decision to push it as hard as I could despite knowing that I would probably pay for it in the run.  It was then that I knew I had crossed over into a true racer. 

You see, beforehand, I would've ridden more conservatively so that I could save some energy for the run.  However, as any true racer will tell you, sometimes reaching a time goal within the race is more important than doing your "best" overall.  And I wanted a sub-40 minute ride more than I wanted a few minutes (seconds?) shaved off my run.  I had a good grasp of who my competition was for 1st in the age category and provided that there wasn't someone lurking ahead of me I had discounted, I pretty much knew I had it in the bag.

And I did it, crossing at 39:23. 

The bike-run transition was another slow one (top ladies: 40ish seconds again, me: 2:11).  I was really winded and my asthma was flaring up.  So I took my time to get going on the run.  And then I ended up having to walk up the first hill and then walking a little more because my legs were cramping up from the bike.

The run course had us run to the elementary school, run around the parking lot, and then run back to the clubhouse.  At about a mile into the run, I started seeing the top ladies coming back.  I was really excited for them  and waved and shouted encouragement like I was a freakin' parade attendee.  I was a little miffed that no one was returning my sentiments.  So to entertain myself I was counting how many women had come by.  I was at #5 when I turned to go to the elementary school and it dawned on me that unless there was a herd of women hanging out in the turn  around spot, I was in the top ten of the women finishers.  Top ten?!?  #6 and #7 passed and then I was running around the parking lot and headed back to the finish line. 

I didn't really think much about my possible top ten finish because there's no way to know depending on swim times and bike times.  Really, all I wanted was the 1st place in the 20-29 age group.

I headed back to the finish line, where Wade managed to snap a picture of me with BOTH feet off the ground.  Except for I still have what he lovingly refers to as chicken wings.  While I crossed the finish line 3 minutes faster than last year's run, it certainly wasn't my fastest run on that particular course.

At the finish line, they handed me my official finishing card.  I immediately honed in on what I wanted: 1st in women (20-29).  And then I caught a glimpse at my overall placing: 8th!

I was 8th OVERALL for the women.  Out of 54 women.  Un-freakin-real.

I got my medal, sharing the podium with two friends:

Of the seven of us, four of us took home medals!

Afterwards, I looked up the results online and found that I was the 6th FASTEST woman on the bike.  The 6th!  Though my swimming times and running times were pretty dismal, I'm still stoked that I was the 6th fastest woman on the bike.  I guess we know what event is my forte.  And where I need to concentrate.  And this proved my theory that you can make up some serious time in the biking portion of a triathlon.

The Rebirth of the Food Wars

We were doing so good with J and his food. 

So good.

But the thing with food wars is once you decide you're ready to engage in combat then you have to be diligent in your efforts.  You can't take a day off.  You have to be hard core all the way.  

And when you have more pressing matters to attend to like who's getting kicked off So You Think You Can Dance and your son's nutritional needs takes a back seat, then the war rages on and slowly you lose all the gain you made.

And then you're back at square one.

Which is precisely where we're at right now. 

Right freakin' now.  In fact, I'm arguing with J AS I TYPE THIS about how he has to eat 3 more spoonfuls of oatmeal.  Not big spoonfuls.  Like spoonfuls the size of a pencil eraser.  Not a big pink eraser.  An eraser on the end of a pencil.  And a half-used one at that.  I mean, nothing that small even has a taste.  But, whatever.

We're on hour one of what's going to be a very long day.

We've tried bribery (Wade had taken the day off so we could play, but somehow we're stuck inside because an emaciated five year old won't eat 3 more "spoonfuls" of oatmeal), we've tried threats.  I even demonstrated what would happen if "they came and took you away and forced you to eat." 

The most frustrating part is that J will sit next to mean and WHINE about how hungry he is.

I KNOW you're hungry.  It's because you won't eat your three oats.  If you ate your three oats then you could have something else.  And then you wouldn't be hungry.

It's round and round we go.  Who's going to fall, we don't know.

Seriously.  I didn't know frustration until I had kids.

I also didn't know stress, or no free time, or selflessness, or no privacy until then either.

Interesting Side Effect

So, I've been training for a marathon.

Yes.  A marathon.  26.2 miles of pavement pounding.

Luckily, it's a marathon that the first 20 miles and the last 6 miles are downhill. 

(Note to nonrunners:  Downhill is brutal.)

Not the point of this post though.

So, I've been training.  And I've been doing considerably better than I did three years ago when I trained for the same marathon.  Which is encouraging.  But I have noticed an interesting side effect.

You'd think I would be sore and crabby.  And surprisingly, I haven't been.

That much. 

What the interesting part is that on Sundays, in primary where I teach six year olds--annoying six year olds--about Jesus and being nice and all good things associated with church, I want to rip their heads off. 

Weird.

And, like the cat that immediately hones in on the one person sitting on your couch who DETESTS cats, these kids have smelled my disdain and latched on to me. 

Literally.

One girl snuggles up close and climbs into my lap with her bony little butt that pierces the muscles that carried me 20 miles the day before.  She rubs my arms incessantly (petting?) and plays with my hair.  Another little boy will try to tickle me by jabbing his fingers into my ribs (weird?).  And I'm not much of a touchy-feely kind of gal nor much of a lover of other people's children on a good day, but the day after running 20 miles, I'm a little sensitive as well.

So on these particular days when I'm beat up before I've even stepped through the door of the meetinghouse, I will sometimes stand in the back of the primary room.  Besides, sometimes my legs don't ache as much when I'm standing.

If only I would have had a camera today to catch the face of the Primary President when she asked why I was standing in the corner and I replied:

"Because I ran 20 miles yesterday and I don't really appreciate some six year old telling me my arms are fat."

Good Idea or Bad Idea

Today, my mom and I went to lunch at The Mediterranean Market in Salt Lake.  We've been going to this place for many years now--20 maybe--and only recently have I actually looked around at what other businesses are around.

For example, in the same parking lot is a nondescript (no really.  Nondescript, meaning that there is no name on the building, marquee, or, well, anywhere) building that employees a large number of people based on the parking lot:

Numerous drive bys over the years have not brought us any closer to what  this mystery business is.

Inside the shop, there's the ethnic market where they have just about any weird food you could think of--we spent today by the canned snail aisle.  But, there's also a cute little cafe set up.

They serve great sandwiches and  salads.  And their bread is to die for.

In fact, there really is only one downfall to this eatery.  One that I can overlook for the sake of the food, but it's been very hard to do so ever since I realized exactly what it was I was looking at.

Across the street is a storage unit business and a hot tub business.  Nothing sinister about that.  Until the last time I was at the Mediterranean Market and I took a closer look at their sign (click on picture to enlarge):

Say it with me folks:

Ew.

Now, I have been in the position before where I've thought "I would do just about anything for a hot tub right now."  Like after Kings Peak or an 18 mile run.  But, I can honestly say, I've never thought "I would even go down to 3900 State Street and rent a room with a hot tub."

I'm shuddering even now.

What's For Dinner Wednesday--Ranch Crispy Chicken

Yay I'm back!


Ranch Crispy Chicken

1 envelope ranch dressing mix
1/4 C bread crumbs or cornflake crumbs (I had neither, so I used Special K)
Chicken

Combine the ranch dressing mix and the crumbs.  Dip the chicken in.  Bake at 375 for 50ish minutes or until the juice runs clear.

So insanely easy and yet so delicious.  Probably would've been even better if it was warm, but seeing as I was waiting for Wade and then too hungry to heat it back up when I gave up waiting, it was cold.  I served it with fried zucchini, which is SO good yet SO time consuming to make. Oh, and an Israeli melon and corn that I picked up at a roadside produce stand yesterday.

Quick, easy, and tasty.

The Saga Ends

Okay, so we came, we saved, we conquered, and now we were headed back.

How Well Do You Know This Trail?

As we started our descent, we could hear the whir of helicopter blades slice through the air.  And then we saw the life flight helicopter approach the downed scout.  We watched as it hovered above the scout camped out on the slope of the mountain side.  And then it landed down the hill a ways.  It let out two EMTs who hiked up to the scout, and then--of all things--took off.  We could hear it flying around and offered our guesses as to why it was flying around instead of, say, waiting to whisk a 16 year old having a heart attack off to the hospital.

Wade's guess was that the pilot wanted to explore the area.  Only a few helicopters are equipped enough to go 12,000 feet, so it's a rare treat to get up there and have time to sight see.

My guess was that the helicopter sucked too much gas or something.  Though thinking about it now, that doesn't make a lot of sense, since he was burning gas flying around.  But at 13,000 feet your thinking is a little cloudy.

I can't remember if Hillary and Jeremy offered up their guesses.

So, we climbed down the rocks all while watching the rescue operation taking place.  Finally, the helicopter returned and the two EMT's with the scout made their way to the machine and off they went.

And coincidently, so did our phone.

We made it down to the pass where we first encountered the scout troop in trouble and found that they had left.  We thought we saw them over at the "chute" which is the quick way down, but not worth the risk for two people who are training for a marathon.  So we went back the way we came.  Luckily we knew they were camped at the same lake we were, for what that was worth.

A little ways down the trail we ran into a lone man.  He was standing on the trail staring at the stream that had taken over the route.

"How well do you know this trail?" he asked Wade.

This is never a good sign.  You never want to be out in the backcountry looking at a trail and wondering where to go next.  You could walk for days out there.  But luckily, we were on Guardian Angel Duty.  He latched on to our hiking party and we walked on.

It was about this time that my bladder shifted from "think about finding a place" to "find a place now".  There were only a few barriers to this.  (a) The stranger now attached to our group (b) the many boy scout troops littering the trails, mostly up high where they have a birds eye view of everything and (c) no trees, no shelter, no privacy.

Meanwhile, Wade, who was drained from his escapades on the summit, wanted to stop and rest.  Our new found friend took the opportunity to hog the ONE area I had seen in 2 miles that would be a suitable pee stop.

See.  It doesn't pay to be nice.

So I patiently waited and  then off we went and I was on a mission.  This mission would fuel me ahead of the pack and to the top of the pass.  Which had no place to pee either.  But, then back down and almost back to camp I finally came across the one lone area in which I could pee.

Ah.

Back at camp, I climbed into the tent while Wade and Jeremy went to find our phone using only the information that they were camped at or around the same place we were.  Luckily, we were being rewarded for our good deeds because they walked right to their camp and retrieved the phone.

They found out while they were there that the helicopter dropped off the two EMTs and then had to fly around burning off gas so that it could load another 180 pound person and still get off the ground at 12,000 feet.  Also, the troop had called their bishop and the bishop wanted to pick up the cost of the phone--the rental and the charges for the minutes.  So really, our only expense was in the weight of carrying the thing, which was not some small matter, being as it's a pretty big and heavy object:

But it was a small sacrifice to make.

Back at camp, we were sitting around the fire and it was around dusk.  Wade looked over and said "don't be alarmed but there is a guy walking towards us with a shovel."  It was little creepy.  Turned out the guy was a little creepy, but he was a ranger and just out spreading the word about not littering and keeping our fires under control.

The next morning, we started out to the car 7 miles away.  I had to perform minor surgery on the blisters on my litttle toes the night before using a pocket knife so I could hike out.  I'm also pretty sure I'm going to lose both big toe toenails.  The walk out was brutal on my feet, but we kept a pretty good pace.  And even had time to goof off too.

Yes, we have Ipods in.  I think we had shared all our stories by that point and were tired of our own voices.

What am I doing?  who knows.  I'm tired, dirty, and sore.

Overall, we had an awesome time.  I was really surprised that the hike in to Dollar Lake was as easy as it was (says the person training for a marathon).  The only bad thing was that the mosquitoes were terrible.  And no one mentioned that perhaps I should put bug spray on my rear end, lest I get bitten while peeing behind the bush.  I mean, it wasn't like I was sitting out there contemplating the meaning of life or anything.  I thought I was pretty quick in getting the deed done.

So imagine my surprise when I walked by the mirror as I was getting into the shower and noticed not one or two bites.  But like 30.

P.S. We got word back about the scout.  He's out of the hospital, recovering at home and the doctor said that had he not been rescued when he was he most likely would have sustained permanent damage.  I have warm little fuzzies knowing that we were meant to be there at that time.

Coincidences and Miracles Continued

So there we were at the base of the actual summit.  It was a pleasant afternoon and we had stopped to eat lunch before continuing up to the top.  On one side of us was this:

The pathway to top.  On the other was a group of boy scouts.  At first, I thought they were goofing around and trying to make a call to their girlfriends.  Wade butted into their conversation to mention he had a satellite phone.  I thought "what are you doing?  We have to pay for those minutes!" But as I listened closer, I realized they had a problem.  Further down the trail, by the shortcut we opted to not take, lay a scout with heart problems.  I kept thinking "a scout leader with heart problems hiked to Kings Peak?"  But it turned out to be a 16 year old.  He had had heart surgery 3 years ago and some cuckoo doctor said it would be okay for him to hike to Kings Peak.  From the symptoms they were relaying across their walkie talkies, it sounded like a full blown heart attack.  They had tried calling 911 from their cell phones at the site of the downed scout, and then had hiked to the pass in hopes that they'd get reception there.  Their next move was to hike to the top and hope that a cell tower would reach them there.  After that, their last option was to hike all the way out to the trailhead 14 miles away.  Luckily we showed up just in time.

A side note about the satellite phone:  When Wade was 15 or 16 he had an experience on a campout with a scout where the other scout almost died because they couldn't get him out fast enough.  When Wade was made scoutmaster, he started taking a satellite phone with him on backpacking trips where they'd be without phone coverage.  A few months ago, he called to rent the phone for our trip from the guy in Salt Lake and left a message with his wife about what days we would need it.  The guy never called back and we forgot about it until about a week before our trip.  By then we figured the phone would be gone and we never followed up on it.  Wednesday afternoon, the satellite phone guy called Wade to see if he was going to pick up his phone for the weekend.  So it was by pure luck we even had it with us.

So back to Kings.  The scout leader called 911 and they were a little slow in understanding where it was we were and what it was we needed.  At $1.75 a minute, this was a little aggravating.  Finally, the scout guy got off the phone and said, "um, they want to call us back when they dispatch the helicopter."  Meanwhile, the bipolar nature of the High Uintas had kicked into full swing and the storm clouds were starting to move in.  So we made an executive decision.  We left the $2000 rented satellite phone with complete strangers on a mountain pass and headed up.

Reminder: we (read: I) totally expected to summit in 1/2 hour tops. I mean, it's just a few boulders, right?

So we started up:

Holy Crap!

Those .6 miles were the LONGEST, HARDEST, SLOWEST .6 miles of my life.  I don't think I could've gone slower if I had been crawling them.  It took us close to an hour and a half to climb to the top.  And every breath was agonizing.  My head was pounding.  My heart felt like it was going to explode.

Unless you were Hillary, who is apparently half mountain goat and scampered up seemingly without any problem.

Just below the peak, I came across a guy who was sitting and resting.  He was with some of his (assumed) children.  "Hey, you're the second girl I've seen up here."

"Yeah, the first one is half mountain goat."  I replied.

"She said she was with her husband and kicking his butt.  Are you here with your husband?"

I laughed and pointed DOWN the mountain to Wade who was pulling up the rear of our troupe.

Because while I was struggling to make it up, Wade was downright scary.  As soon as we crossed over to 13,000 feet, he started complaining about not feeling good.  He'd take two steps and have to rest.  I asked him if he wanted to go back down (alone, because I was going to summit.  It was my trip to begin with.  I just brought him along to make the fire, cook the meals and keep me warm at night. :) ) but he said that he was going to keep going, so I left him to continue on at my own speed.

I scrambled up the last little bit to the very top where Hillary and Jeremy were waiting.

Utter Awesomeness!!!

I looked over the edge to see where Wade was and here's how I found him:

Yes, that's him doing the "airplane" 13,000 feet up and dangerously close to the edge.  He really wasn't in any shape to be pulling stunts like that.

After a few minutes and a good ribbing by the guy just below the summit, Wade finally made it.

This picture doesn't tell the whole story.  Wade looked completely different when he summited.  Like he was going to throw up or take off all his clothes and run off the edge stark naked.

We were sharing the summit with a different boy scout troop then the ones currently holding our phone.  They agreed to take this picture for us

before getting down to the task at hand, which was to hit golf balls (biodegradable, I'm sure) off the top of the mountain.

Once we were done at the top, all the fun left.  Now we would have to hike back down and six miles back to our camp.  Plus we had to find our phone.  And I had to pee.

Did we find our phone?  Did the scout get out alive?  Did I show every scout in the area all I have to offer?  Who else did we meet along the way that we used our saving powers to keep from perishing in the wilderness?

Ha.  Tomorrow.