Caution: Runner NOT Running

As the support crew for a runner, you know the inherent hazards of the sport. The chafing, the dehydration, and the ~ahem~ bathroom issues that many runners experience on occasion are all things that the support crew experiences second hand. Never is a situation more perilous, however, than when one is the support crew for the injured runner. Here are some important rules adopted from Chez Moi with the intention of promoting safety.

Be as Prepared as a Scout preparing for an Academy Award.  The first thing to realize when talking with the injured runner is that they are dying to tell you about their badassery. They cannot wait to explain how they injured their (xyz) running (xyz) distance on (xyz) date. Furthermore, be prepared to provide an appropriate response or wince when they go into great detail about how they ran 4 miles on a broken foot, or had fluid drained via a 6' needle, or my personal favorite - share how the bones crunched against each other for a few days. We've discussed this before, runners are weird. And gross. And weird.

The Importance of Math.  The injured runner is a delicate creature, vulnerable and prone to wild mood swings rivaling that of a 15 year old girl. The injured runner frequently believes at any given time that he or she is speaking in a sane rational voice about his or her return to running, when in fact, they are talking like a drunk frat boy on a Saturday night. Like a marathoner at the end of a race, the non-running runner cannot perform simple math. Gibberish about Couch to 5K plans and how well Physical Therapy is going can quickly dissolve into Fall Marathon plans. Oh the non-running runner is laughable with their plans to add miles in increments of 10% when the current base mileage rests solidly on a big fat ZERO.  Last I checked, 10% of 0 is 0.

the family holiday photo of 2015

The Approach.  When approaching an injured runner, it’s important to move in slow non-threatening steps, preferably while wearing sensible flats. Running shoes are a no go, as are heels or dress shoes. The injured runner needs no reminding that they are injured, and assuredly, they know exactly what kind of Brooks you have laced onto your feet. If they, like me, have a broken foot and are relegated to a boot, the dress shoes are just a further reminder of how “non-cute” their Christmas wardrobe has been thus far this year.

On Staying Grounded.  The Non-Running Runner who has been sentenced to a month or more of “Spinning Easy on a Spin Bike” is particularly prone to illusions of grandeur regarding their bike fitness. Suddenly they are planning Century rides and contemplating two-day charity events. This is typically experienced by the budding cyclist before their workout du jour, as at the conclusion of a 30 minute spin, they are usually more grounded in reality. In this case, “reality” is comparable to a deep dark hole in the ground where running doesn’t live.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell. One of the trickiest questions posed by the non-running runner is in regards to someone else's running plans. If asked what your race plans are for 2016, it's imperative to change the subject quickly and subtly. Equally dangerous is asking the injured runner when their MD says they can run again. Remember, dates are numbers, numbers are like math, and the non runner has limited math ability at this time.

Finally, Beware the Cookie. Never ever take the last cookie from a non-running runner, unless you have a death wish or are pregnant.

~ savor the boot ~

Fear Less

For every second of a mountain bike video where there is a cyclist perched on the edge of a cliff, there is a MTB chic like me.

A babe on a bike who’s scared and sweaty; gripping the handlebars with white knuckles under purple gloves even as she gears down so she can chase her badass Fear-less friend through the forest trails. 

That girl?  You know the one? 

That girl, who is so totally focused on not crashing that she sometimes she forgets she is having fun?  The one who is concentrating on every single root, bump, rock, dust mote and mole hole as she negotiates her way through the trails? 

That girl is me.

And you know what?

I don’t even mind being that girl.

I’m not particularly good at the sport, but every time I go out and do it, I love it.  I find it to be invigorating and so unlike anything I’ve ever done before in my life.  

Even though it’s just like riding a bike, and I used to race BMX as a kid, this is not like riding a bike.

It’s dangerous feeling, but it’s empowering too.  It’s dirty and sweaty and all the things that we are taught that girls shouldn’t be.  There are cuss words and giggles, at the same time.

My tires pop and crunch on the roots and rocks.  They slip on loose gravel when I don’t expect it, and when that happens on a hill, it feels like the back end of the bike is vanishing from under me.  At least two or three times today I caught a root and it caused my front wheel to turn in a direction I wasn’t expecting.  That was a little frightening.

I could hit a tree.

I could wreck.

I could trust myself.

I could fear less.

And that’s what I did today. 

I hate being scared as much as the next girl, but I must love it too because I had to try to do everything I came upon today.  Every obstacle vanished behind a giggle or a muttered curse word.  Even better, I successfully “didn’t die” while trying to put it together into something that looked and felt an awful lot like FUN.

I’m sure that there was a wrinkle in my brow for a lot of today’s ride.  I know I was so focused on what was in front of my tire that I likely missed much of the beauty of today’s adventure. 

I am just as certain that I was smiling throughout the ride, even when I had to put my foot down so I could just keep going.

~savor~

The Things We Do

Without going into too much detail, The Good Dr had a Bad Cycling Weekend two weekends ago.  It just wasn't his day.  We all know what that's about.  Anyone who's ever participated in an athletic event knows that there are those days that just aren't your day.  It doesn't mean you are less than amazing, it just means you may have had a less than amazing day.

So when The Good Dr was beat up by his bike, I suggested that he do something completely crazy like go for a bike ride to shake it off.

True story.

Not only that, I suggested he go for a nice reasonable distance like 100 miles.  "No problem, you've got this".  Ride from Richmond to Williamsburg and back.

sure.

Now, the ironic thing about this is that I convinced him that this was a good idea because I said I would go with him all the way.  For the whole 100 miles.

Never mind that I had only ridden a season long ride of 57 miles, and that I was possibly not trained enough to ride 100 miles.

about 1/2 way and we were still having FUN with "Fran",
"Whit", "Bueller? Bueller?" and "Birch".

Thus became the day that I decided to answer the question of "How much training does a person need to ride a Century?" and also, "Where does 'mental toughness vs the wall' reach the point of futility?"

It was a stellar day on Saturday.  Beautiful weather - overcast and warm, but not blistering hot.

We connected with some folks and knocked out a seriously fun 56 or so miles complete with laughs, rest stops, donuts and blue sports drink.

Around 57ish or so, a piece of lawn debris flew off a mower and got in my eye, so I was riding with one eye ball squeezed shut.

My (cough) *valentine* hurt. My eye hurt.  My leg was cramping.  My stomach was rolling.  I had chills and goosebumps.

It was as though the WHEELS FELL OFF THE WAGON.

I realized that I was DOWN on liquid.

Physically my body was trying to SHUT DOWN, and my mind was TOTALLY ON BOARD with that idea, it was the best idea I had EVER HAD, and if I kept riding, my brain kept insisting that BAD THINGS WOULD HAPPEN.

I had to stop and pour water in my eye at the next rest stop until the piece of debris was out (it was a piece of a leaf - OUCH).  When that was resolved, I sat down and sipped on some blue liquid and took inventory.

It's 106 miles to Chicago.... We've got a full a tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we are wearing sunglasses". 

My options...

I could lay down in the dirt and take a nap.

I could ride about 12mph for about 9 miles to the next rest stop and see if I sipped liquid the whole way if that would return me to homeostasis.

Or I could sit on my a** and rest for about 15-20 minutes and see if sipping on blue liquid would return me to homeostasis.

Hit it.

I said to Scott, "I have this friend who did a tri a few years ago, and even when she was falling apart, she just kept going.  I'm going to need to Dash from here to the next water stop.  If I'm still completely in bad shape, I will consider getting a ride back on the SAG wagon."

I hopped on my bike (read: awkwardly crawled onto the bike while praying that no one was looking)
Took yet another salt tablet.
Ate a GU even thought I didn't want to.
And pedaled.

I knew in order to finish this event in time, I was going to need to PULL THIS TOGETHER.  And, there were forecast thunderstorms coming.  We were going to need to race the weather.  Only I couldn't make my legs move.

The storms over Rocketts Landing

It was MIND OVER MATTER.

So, I Dash'd to the next stop.  And it wasn't speedy, but it was functional.  We rolled about 14mph.

It was a long 9 miles.  But I sipped the entire way.  In all, about 40 oz of salted sugar water (honest to god, that's what the blue stuff started tasting like) in those short miles.

At the next stop, I really did suddenly feel better.  "OK, I'm ready".

We Finished!

We hopped out on the road.  It wasn't blistering.  The Good Dr was patient and pulled me or let me pull as needed.


A pace line came up beside us, and as the last cyclist was parallel to me, I geared up and stepped on the pace.  A few minutes later, we were cruising around 18mph with a group.

I just thought, "I need to borrow some of their energy for a few minutes".  And that's what we did.

At the next stop we refilled our bottles quickly, and jumped on a line with a few more strangers.  And cruised back to our car, riding the last few alone.

It was nice, honestly, to ride those last few miles with The Good Dr.

He was strong, and I knew he didn't regret riding 100 miles.  I could tell.

The Celebratory Dinner

After we finished and snacked, a HUGE thunderstorm was eminent on the horizon, so we went home, showered, and went to a "Nursing School is Finally Finished and I rode 100 miles today on my Bike" Celebratory Dinner.

I'd do Cap to Cap next year.  The course was 100 times more wonderful than the Tour De Richmond course, and all in all, it was a great time... except for the part where I wanted to take a dirt nap, but those are the details we tend to forget as soon as the event is over.

~savor the ride, respect the distance~

106% WIN

Gentleman 3R "We've got 110 psi in the tires, 40 ounces of water, its dark and we're wearing sun glasses."

Hit it.

On Saturday I completed my 2013 New Years Goal. I remember it like it was yesterday, It was New Years Day, I was talking to a GOTR Merlin, and I said, "This year I'm going to do a Century".

It took till Oct 5th, but I did it. The Martin's Tour of Richmond Gran Fondo.

So let's discuss... “Gran Fondo” means “Big Ride” in Italian.  (That's what she said). 

Oh yeah. It was big (That's what she said). In fact, two days before the race I learned that they'd added 4 miles to the course. As if 102 miles wasn't enough, I was now doing 106 miles. Good stuff.

Leading up to the ride I was asked repeatedly, "What's your goal?"
Goals...
I'm big on goals.

Mostly the weekend consisted of these goals:
Survive the heat.
Finish the ride.
Smile a lot.
Did I mention "don't die?", cos it's on the list... the forecast was something along the lines of 92 degrees so... yeah, in October...

I did the event with my pals, The Gentlemen of the Roads and The Ladies of the Lanes. We were divided into pace groups - the A group, the B group, the DD group... that's where Lady Karen and I fell in....

shade = more important
than it looks

It was an awesome ride. Through parts of the city I had never seen before...
Riding down the marathon race course I spotted in the distance two runners standing on the street corner, waiting for 1,000 cyclists to ride past. They looked annoyed. Hands on hips. Sipping from water bottles... hey.. wait a minute...I know them...

"HEY YOU PEOPLE!"

At some point just before the first worlds longest hill I found myself on the tire of Gentlemen Tom. It was fun to hang with them for a bit, and I dropped myself when the climb started and reconnected with Mike, British & Karen.

First rest stop, quick top off water bottles, porta potty, and go!

TMI: Strategy for 106 miles in 90+ degree heat - I decided EVERY stop I would hit the potty and see if I was peeing enough. #weird. I think nursing school ruined me for normalcy. At any rate, it worked well. By the end of the day I knew I was WAY behind in hydration.

Rest stop TWO - This is SO much better with lube! (That's what she said).

A blur of miles... rest stops... drink again, drink again, drink again... and lots of eating. And Beer Talk.

The Fearsome Four - 60% done, and that ain't bad.

Connected again to the B group at another stop and Gentlemen Tom teased me about my standard melt down - predicting it would happen at mile 87. At this point we were around mile 60something and I was still smiling.

And then more miles and more miles and I started watching the clock... not because I was worried about a melt down, but more because... Gentleman British's Daughter had a birthday party he HAD to be back for... and my daughter had to be at said birthday party... 

so we started picking up the pace.

We fell into a new little group - and I was once again on Tom's tire. It was work, but only in the way that cycling comfortably is work. I wasn't struggling, we were just moving along. 

Tom: "My garmin says it's 94 degrees here."
Me: "Information I could have done without..."

Hot Sweaty Mess

It was hot, we were pounding our drinks. But we couldn't slow down, because by now, we were racing the clock... not sure racing is a fair assessment. I was moving my bike as fast as I could given the circumstances.

And wait a freaking minute here...

I realized that we were cruising, and I was 93 miles into my ride. Holy wow.

A wash of euphoria rolled over me and I grinned as I soaked in the HIGH that comes from endurance sports.

Somewhere around mile 93 or so my legs asked, politely, if we could just stop and take a dirt nap.

I told them to STFU.

They piped up again at mile 94.

At this point, I promised them that if they kept doing their job that there would be beer.  “Just keep pedaling up this hill, there’s beer at the finish. It’s true.”

 And

“The faster you pedal, the faster you get to the beer. Hang on Tom’s wheel and Go to the Beer.”

Until eventually, the cohesiveness of my thoughts unraveled and my thoughts became, 

“Tom’s Tire. Beer.”

And finally,

“Beer.”

Richmond International
Raceway - Victory Lap

I’m pretty sure the single mindedness of my mantra could have been a lot more inspirational. Imagine the power of this blog If I’d had some schmoopy inspirational laden mantra about the power of the human spirit to overcome adversity.

Not this girl.

She was focused on beer.

Ironically, by the time I pulled myself over the 106^th mile in the 90+ degree heat, beer wasn’t nearly as heaven sent as a cold iced washcloth and a bottle of BluesomethingorotherAid.  I think I proposed to the girl who handed it to me. I’m not sure, it’s vague. It might have been a guy now that I think about it...

After the event though, I realized that despite how hard it was, I did an amazing job. 

it's not pretty, but it's
authentic. I was suffering
and it is HOT here. But I am
getting it done at RIR.
1 mile to go.

But this was NOT about winning, or getting an age group finish, or being ahead of anyone else. This was about ENJOYING MY SPORT and EMBRACING MY OWN ACCOMPLISHMENT.  

Regardless of how fast or slow I completed the 102 106 miles, it was a STELLAR DAY. I consider it a 106% SUCCESS.

I was proud of my strong finish. I did exactly what I set out to do, and so much more than that. 

And oh look, there was a timing chip and the results are telling. The more fun you have doing something, the better you are at it

... Thanks to Tom, British Les and Mike, true Gentlemen of the Road, who pulled me to a 2^nd place age group finish.

As an aside - Sportsbackers did a great job. There was plenty of water, plenty of volunteers, food, etc. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being a fail and 10 being Spot On, I'd give them an 8.