Progress?

My boyfriend and training partner Johnny and I did a ride we do a lot, up to this random two-story tall rock sitting in this field at the top of Lucas Valley Road. You can't miss the rock, and I'm sure it has a real name, but I like to refer to it as the dreaded rock, or Mount Random Rock, not to be redundant.
I dread the rock because it's at the top of a hill and the climb isn't fun for someone not yet in biking shape -- though I'm always glad to see the rock when I finally get there. I have no idea how long or steep the road leading to the rock is, but at this early stage in my training, it feels like 15 miles straight up. John says the whole ride from his house to the top of the rock and back, is only 17 miles total, so that's impossible. But it still feels like it.
The first time I did the climb, it was July 4th. And I had grand plans of riding from John's to Point Reyes Station even though I hadn't been on my bike since pre-surgery sometime in early March. Unfortunately it was 90 + degrees outside when we left the house. And about 1/2 way up to the dreaded hill, I had to pull over. And not just pull over, but potentially pass out. I sat down on the scratchy dirt in this tiny patch of shade provided by a scratchy tree, and fought through the big dark cloud that was stifling my vision.
A nice car with two attractive foreign biking men -- possibly Swiss -- stopped to ask if I was OK. They'd even passed on the curvy hilly road and then turned around to check. That was nice, though as I was sweating and ill and generally not feeling attractive. John thought it was nice, too. I assured them I was fine but it took me 15 minutes before I could get on my bike. I finished the climb, but we only made it Nicasio, still 13 miles from Point Reyes, before I had to turn around. The ride home was hard, needless to say.
So that was my introduction to Mount Random Rock, which leaves me with an enormouse sense of accomplishment every time I mount it now, if you know what I mean. I've crested that hill three times since and it is starting to feel better.
But this time, I made more progress by keeping up with John on the flats. He charges the hill, and there's no way I'm keeping up with him there yet. But he swore to me he was riding at his normal pace on the flats this week and I kept up.
It was a baby step, but an important one. I can't be a great training partner if he has to slow down for me all of the time. So the results are a big triumph -- a two-story, random, rock-sized triumph.

Bike and build

I met this cool group of college students who rode their bikes from Providence Rhode Island to San Francisco, stopping to volunteer at Habitat for Humanity sites all along the 3,500-mile route. There are actually several different routes for cross-country bikers that you can see at their Web site: www.bikeandbuild.org.
Shockingly, most of the 31 riders who did te Providence-to-San Francisco trip, were not bikers when they started the trip.
And not shockingly, they became bikers along the way.
Fun facts I learned about their trip at their celebration party at Buca de Beppo in San Francisco: Everyone got flat tires though one girl made it all the way to Nevada before getting her first -- which I think is akin to pitching a no-hitter until the bottom of the ninth.
One trip leader, Jeff, had 13 flat tires in one day. But fellow riders say he is a "patcher" and not a tube changer. Of all the spills, and apparently there were many, only one person had to go to the hospital after a particularly nasty fall that knocked him out for a few minutes. He ended up in the hospital a second time, too, but it was precautionary. He returned to finish the ride with the group. Most of the women on the trip said they gained weight during an entire Summer of cycling. I asked how this was possible and one woman said: "Well, muscle weighs more than fat. But we also ate a lot."
Theroup was inspiring. And it was a good reminder that will -- even moe than skill -- goes a really long way.

Just so we're clear on what "beginner" means

I ran 3.2 miles on Friday. It took just a little more than 30 minutes.
My heart rate hovered at like 165-170. My max was 173.
I do not feel fast. My stride is cramped. I did not enjoy it.

My first tri

It was a stampede.

Or at least that's what if felt like, when the two or three dozen people I'd passed during the bike portion of my first sprint triathlon -- The 2007 Tiburon Triathlon to support the Tiburon fire district -- booked it past me during the last leg of the race.

There was nothing I could do to fend them off, this pack of Heat 5 triathletes, with their exceptionally vented triathlon clothes and their ridiculously efficient strides.

But I had promised myself I'd do a full-fledged triathlon before I turned 30. And as of today, I have 173 days left. The Tiburon Tri was a warm-up to making good on that promise.

There's really only one problem.

I'm what some might call a "burst athlete," a fast sprinter with exceptional heart rate recovery. I've earned this identity through a lifetime of team sports -- soccer, volleyball and rugby. And as hard as I played those sports, I have never found anything as challenging as overcoming my endurance running slowness.

It is painful how slow I am. And I was reminded of that during the Stampede. It was hard to swallow.

After it passed, I focused on the girl in the pink yoga outfit about 30 yards ahead of me and told myself that if I let her beat me, it'd be hard to forgive myself. But I wondered if she was thinking what I was thinking? Am I really this slow?

Coach Neil Fraser, of TriMoreFitness in San Francisco says, "What if I am the slowest?" is the most common question beginner triathletes ask.

Doubt and fear of failure are all common feelings, he says.

I wanted to tell him that I eat doubt and fear of failure for breakfast.

But, Coach Neil persuades:

The excitement and thrill you will feel at the start of your first triathlon are right up there with graduating college, falling in love for the first time or getting married.

"When was the last time you felt this nervous about anything?" he says.

That's often one of the best signs that what you're about to do, is going to be awesome.

And he was right. It was thrilling. Look how thrilled I was even before it started!

It was thrilling to be part a group of thrashing swimmers all trying to make a tight turn around the buoy in the middle of the Bay -- To reach out and touch someone else's feet in the murky cold water and to know I was close enough to pass. It was thrilling to pick off people on the bike and race down the windy Tiburon road faster than I knew my bike could go, to put distance between myself and the people I passed.


And after the stampede, it was thrilling to turn that corner and see the finish line and all the people clapping and cheering.

I finished the race in 1:11:19, good enough for 190th out of 320. I did well in the swim, shockingly since I've never competed in swimming before, completing the half mile in 12 minutes and 45 seconds. I'm confident I can take minutes off of that with a little more experience swimming in a pack. I finished the bike in under 39 minutes. And as I've only ridden a road bike a handful of times, I'm pretty sure I can get better at that.
As for my run time.. well... At just under 10-minute miles, we'll mark that as an area that "Needs Improvement."

By the next time you read me, I already hope to be faster... Or at least, I'm gunna tri.

Get it?