For All My Fitness Homies*

*and by "homies" I mean "fellow nerds".

Many of you started reading this blog last summer at the height of my physical fitness.  I was training for and completed my very first triathlon, and was in full-on Beast Mode. Maybe you've noticed that for months now lately my posts have been decidedly un-health related. There is a simple reason for that.  Winter is my season to get fat hibernate and recover from the constant stress I put on my body during training.

But guess what?  It's almost spring and the time for preparation has come.  This race season is already in full effect.  So buckle your seat belts, kids, Mama's in for the long haul.

(You're all, "Dude, who is this person?")

(And I'm like, "I know, right? It's like I've been replaced with the nerdier version of me.")                        
(To which you reply, "Nerdier version?  Is that even possible?")

I'm a planner.  I love, love, love to plan.  My plans have plans.  (Remember Black Friday?) I'm pretty sure that's why I love Pinterest so much.  It's like the Land of Eternal Plans.

One of my favorite things to do in February is plan my race schedule for the year.  I get out the calendar and commit to a million races that all look like the best.races.ever.  Then I have a bit of a reality check because races cost money. And so do diapers (which I am still buying because I suck at potty training.)(And maybe I stress ate an entire package of Ezra's potty training M&M's yesterday.)(So it may be a while before the kid has any incentive to pee in the potty because Mama is not going shopping for a few days.) A girl can only afford/justify paying to run in a race for fun so many times.  I had to scale back my race dreams considerably.

(Some of the races on my Dream List?
1. Tough freaking Mudder - it's like a half marathon where you can get electrocuted.  Who wouldn't want that?!
2. Color Run - have you ever seen the pictures?
3. Warrior Dash - um, my race recap kind of says it all.
4. Foam Fest - just like Warrior Dash ... but cleaner.
5. Red Carpet Run - a 5k in a prom dress? Totally there.)

Once my races are picked, I set up my training schedule.  I usually train around the biggest races. (Duh.)  This year I am training for three main races.  A 10k in April (due to injury and two weeks of flu I am actually having to be pretty diligent about getting back to 10k form), a triathlon in July, and a half marathon in October.

Determining a training schedule actually takes quite a bit of time for me.  Most triathlon training plans are written for 6 workout days a week, and I know I can only commit to 5. And since they involve swimming, biking, and running I have to factor in pool access, when I have the blocks of time to do long workouts (two hour bike rides, hour and a half runs, and brick workouts - which are usually long bike rides followed immediately with thirty minute runs), and how to follow long workouts with meaningful rest time.  (For example:  running an hour and a half Saturday, biking two hours Sunday, and running intervals on Monday probably isn't the best plan.  Unless, of course, I'm planning for injury.  Then it's a stellar plan.) Since my days off are Tuesdays and Fridays, this means I have to play a bit with any traditional schedules. (I mostly follow the plan(s) by Matt Fitzgerald. He knows his stuff and he's cute.)

For the 10k and half-marathon I just follow good ol' Hal Higdon.  He hasn't failed me yet.  I might modify the half plan slightly to include some speed work, but we'll see.  For now here is a sample of my training plan.  I picked June because it's in the middle to last part of my sixteen week training plan.  It's intense but not crazy sick yet.

A work of art, amIright?  Let me decode it for you.

Run workouts are red because "red" rhymes with "tread" which is short for "treadmill*." (Genius.) (*although I will mostly run outside on a non-treadmill surface.)

Swim workouts are blue because ... dude, really?

Strength training is green because "green" rhymes with "lean and mean" which makes me think of strength training. (Seriously, why wouldn't it?)

Bike workouts are brown because I didn't have orange.  (Orange was my first pick because orange makes me think of creamsicles, which almost kind of has "cycle" right in the word.) I settled for brown because trail riding is by far my favorite (although I train for triathlon on the road) and brown reminds me of trail riding and that makes me happy.

I use black for information like race dates, recovery weeks, and taper weeks.

There are also a lot of codes involved in the training plan which makes it look a lot more hardcore than it is. These are just different drills and kinds of workouts.  It's not that complicated once you know it. (Ex: TRR = Transition Run (a ten minute run after a bike workout to teach your legs to run after prolonged biking); SLI = Swim Lactate Intervals (a fancy way to say 'on a scale of 1-10, 10 being you are about to keel over, swim at a 9 for 75 yard intervals); CLH = Bike Long Hill Climbs (pretty much what it sounds like - a bike ride with a bunch of long hills (five minutes of steady climbing).

I feel so much relief at having a plan.  Following The Plan means I have less chance of mortifying myself by barely stumbling across the finish line. Once I'm entrenched in training I don't have to think about what to do next which is good because all my brains cells are busy convincing me not to quit.

I am so excited to get into tri season.  To all my fellow fitness nerds homies I say, "Happy Race Season! Hurrah!"

How I Became an Ultra-Ironman Triathlete

I should not have put off writing today's post for as long as I have, as it is now late Tuesday night and instead of reveling in my normal hilarity I am sad, sad, sad.

Brian just took the in-laws to the airport. You know, where they will be boarding a plane to Africa.  For a year. (And by that I mean they will be living in Africa for a year, not boarding a plane for a year.)(It's just that my sentence structure was confusing and I didn't want anyone to be misinformed.)(Because here at Sublurban Mama we care about factual and accurate information.)(And avoid redundancies and repeating ourselves.)(Did you like how I said "we" like Sublurban Mama is more than me, a SAHM blogging in my jammies, wondering if Ezra will remember he has a Milky Way Valentine's heart from Grandma in the fridge or if he is still young enough that out of sight means out of mind, and if that is the case I should totally eat it?)

For those who already live far away from family, or just plain don't see yours much, in-laws in Africa for a year will not seem a big deal.  But I'm close with my in-laws, and the kiddos see their grandparents several times a week.  We live 3.1 miles apart (which is an excellent running route, because there's always cold water and a potty half way through)(and a ride home if I wuss out).  This will be an adjustment.  Because honestly, I can't see myself going out for a jog to Malawi anytime soon.  I am an ultrarunner at heart, but I should probably cover more than 6 miles at a time if I'm going to attempt intercontinental running.  Plus there's that whole "ocean" thing.  Although that could be the most intense triathlon ever.

The Ironman Triathlon is a 2.4 mile swim.  The Visit the In-Laws in Malawi Triathlon is about a 4,000 mile swim.  The Ironman follows it's swim with 112 miles on the bike.  My VTILIM Triathlon would have a 3300 mile bike ride.  The run would undoubtedly be the easiest part. The Ironman finishes with a little 26.2 mile marathon, and I think the VTILIM run would be about the same.  Except in a third world nation.  With no support or paved roads.  A trail run marathon.

Actually, my Visit the In-Laws in Malawi Triathlon sounds a lot like what I imagine is an everyday Navy Seal workout.  In fact, with a few minor tweaks (like the rule where you have to carry a weapon and wear camo body paint) I'm pretty sure I should rename this the Navy Seal Triathlon for Hardcore Endurance Athletes that Know Second Place is First Loser and that Pain is Just Weakness Leaving the Body.  It's catchier and more inclusive, don'tcha think?

Hoorah.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

Dear Jesus, if you are going to send a
blizzard, I would prefer mine with
Oreo cookies.  

Well, the good Lord saw fit to dump a bunch of snow on our neck of the woods.

...


*Searching my brain for a Pollyanna-type comment*


It's really pretty from inside my warm and cozy house.





If I had my choice I would live somewhere warm and sunny all the time.  So today's post is a return to my happy place, when I could ride my bike outside on a wooded trail while wearing a tank top. Bliss.  Here is a day in the life of a hardcore trail-riding cyclist who also won the X-Games.

And THAT'S How I Won the X-Games (posted in June)

Facebook Status: It may be all Zen to you to practice your flute in the middle of the woods at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, but to me, on my first trail ride, coming around a bend and hearing faint strains of Bach's Partita in A minor only reminds me a bit of a whacked out suburban version of Deliverance. And I'm already peddling as fast as I can.

Yep. My first trail ride.

I left the house at around 6:15 a.m. after mapping and remapping my route obsessively via mapmyride.com. I had 12 miles scheduled and I've been spoiled by Sarah planning our routes. But she couldn't bike that day so I decided to Navy Seal it and do some trail riding. (Because if Navy Seals rode their bikes to train for a sprint triathlon they would totally go trail. Blindfolded.  While being chased by rabid squirrels.) Also, major roads (the kinds my neighborhood is surrounded by) still freak me out (maybe because Brian, in his deep seeded love for cyclists, mentions taking them out with his car how much he hates sharing the road with them whenever cycling enters the conversation).  So hitting up a place that dubbed me the biggest threat had a certain appeal.

I spent most of the ride pretending I was in the X-Games. I made sure I had my hardcore face on, and skidded on the gravel as much as possible because I have poor balance and limited overall control of my ride.  There were a ton of (imaginary and consequently invisible) fans cheering me on, and I mugged for the (again, imaginary and invisible) cameras and enjoyed a few voice-over commentary moments.  Like,

"Kelly, tell us about that last turn, where it looked as if you were going to attempt a full pirouetting dismount."
"Well, John, it got dicey out there.  I was going so fast and misjudged the angle.  (Insert dramatic pause to catch my breath because I had just finished the event and won.)  I thought I was going to have to bail and didn't want to eat it on those tiny bits of gravel huge rocks, but thanks to my extensive ballet training (i.e. my best friend is a ballerina and uses terms like pirouette in casual conversation) I knew it would be the best way to get outta there.  Thankfully I recovered without any dance moves."

also

"Kelly, on bridge number four you made this fantastic face - tell us what you were thinking."
"Are you referring to when I came out of the saddle, John?  I was thinking, "I'm totally riding out of the saddle.  In the middle of the woods.  And it's gorgeous out. And since I'm standing up I can see the stream raging river below the bridge.  And at the next games I'm going to suggest we ditch the bridges and ride through the rapids.  Because this is the X-Games, not a tea party*."

*not a political statement.  It's simply that I have a gaggle of girlies and have partaken in my fair share of actual tea parties.  And they are nothing like the X-Games.  But now that I'm on a tangent, I remember my children frequently wear their bathing suits and jump off the couch into a blue comforter. They also paddle board, surf, and barefoot ski on the same blue comforter, so, yeah, my house is pretty much like a year round X-Games.

Miles 8-9 took place on a paved trail where I experienced my first X-Games medal ceremony.  And really, it was almost embarrassing to win so many of the gold.  I also saw a group of deer, which was cool but completely unexpected as I was really close to a major highway.  Because I was going so fast (have I mentioned that yet?) I came upon them suddenly, and they were only a few feet away before they took off.

Also?  I've seen a number of sweet neighborhood rabbits on my morning runs.  They generally slowly hop away as I approach.  But I have a different effect on rabbits while on my bike.  They freak the heck out.  I wanted to be all, "Dude, rabbits, I'm cool.  I wouldn't run you over or hunt you.  Even if it was the end of the world.  Or the Hunger Games.  Probably."  But then I thought about it and knew I was lying in my head to those poor rabbits.  But maybe not.  Because although I would totally eat them during the Hunger Games, I would let someone else hunt them.  So, semantics = not a liar. Awesome.

I have another trail ride tomorrow - a scheduled 15 miles.  And in honor of the summer Olympics,  I might take a break from the X-Games, and enter a few cycling events there.  So I'll probably pass Michael Phelps as the most successful athlete in history.  Better call Guinness. (The World Records, not the beer.) (Heathen.)

Stalkers Make Great Friends Because They're Both Loyal and Committed

Weirdest trail ride ever.

To be fair, I've only been on two trail rides, which considerably ups the odds for bypassing the current slot holder with the most bizarre happenings gone down.  The last one, where I won the X-Games, now pulls a distant second after a ride that had it's route diverted by 1500 Statues of Liberty and ended with a confrontation with the police.*

*I am probably being a bit melodramatic.  Although I was technically yelling, it was all in context.  And maybe it's completely inaccurate a bit of a stretch to imply I was yelling at the police when it was more in their general direction.

A 15 mile bike ride seems like a grand accomplishment, but I'm realizing that if it's a leisurely ride it's not that big of a deal. (Until the next morning when you sit down and your tush says, "Dude, careful.  You biked 15 miles yesterday.  And if you've forgotten I will remind you every time you try to sit down.") 


But Kelly, you must be thinking, you are such a hardcore athlete.  Why would you ruin a long bike ride with mediocre effort?  Good question.  I blame it specifically on the fact that I had to dismount no less than seven times to duck under all the caution tape that blocked off the trail. 

This is a good time to ponder that I never thought of actually heeding the caution tape.  I saw it and was like, "That's where I need to go.  I mapped it."  Plus? Caution tape is like a mall cop; visual authority but no firearm to back it.  Also? Navy Seals vs. Caution Tape? (DID I EVEN JUST WRITE THAT?)


"Um, Kelly, why was there so much caution tape on the back woods secluded trails? Weren't you concerned about the hideous murder spree crime scene it was surely containing?" Great question that I never asked myself because I was in such a bad mood  so focused on getting the job done. Because I'm an athlete.  Possible death and dismemberment from the psychopath still hiding in the woods never even crossed my mind.  Instead I just took the blocked trails as a personal offense and grumbled about the inconvenience.  The most I questioned the first set of caution tape was, "Dude, THE HECK?"   (Street smarts - I have them.) 


Around mile three I came upon a golf cart and my new best friends.  They were two city workers, who, at 6:30 a.m. were already a little in the bag.  Maybe.  Or they were just some of those perpetually giddy/slaphappy people that ride around on golf carts yelling to anyone crushing it on the trails.


City Worker: GOOD MORNING!
Kelly: HEY! (I'm really quick first thing in the morning) (Also I yelled it a bit flamboyantly.  I don't know why.) Then, realizing they were setting up giant mile marker flags, I remembered, "Duh - it's the local town's 5K and 10K today.  And I'm riding on the course. The caution tape totally makes sense now."


I decided to detour from the trail to hurry and do the part of my ride mapped around the start of the run so I could be clear of all the running traffic later on.  It was about 2 miles away.  There, far from the scene of the first meeting, I was greeted by my new best friends who, still in their golf cart, guffawed at me.


City Worker: ARE YOU FOLLOWING US?
Kelly: NOPE. (Still quick, not as flamboyant.)

We proceeded to cross paths twice more, each meeting more exuberant but still as witty as before. They yelled things like, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER HERE?" and "AREN'T YOU DONE YET?" (I dropped a "HA-HA" which is like a real life version of lol, and a "DUDE!" which shouldn't surprise anyone.  I'm like the most boring new best friend these guys have ever had.)  But the final meeting went down like this:

My new best friends were in their golf cart stopped at an intersection, talking to a cop where he was busy shutting down the road for the races.  When I came near, they both stood up in the golf cart and cheered. (Did you catch that, X-Games Trail Ride with your imaginary fans and imaginary cheering?)


City Workers: NO WAY! THERE SHE IS! SHE'S STILL GOING!  WE ARE TOTALLY STALKING YOU!
Kelly: THE COPS ARE RIGHT THERE! I'M FILING A REPORT, STALKER!

And then we all laughed, because, well, you kinda had to be there.  But I felt a bit redeemed.


At that point all I had to do was bike home, but I was greeted by a glorious sight.  It was like Bonus Weirdness, a gift that I will never take for granted.  Because just when you've been blessed by golf cart best friends, you will look up and see 1500 people dressed as the Statue of Liberty gathering to begin a foot race.  And you might tear up a bit because you are premenstrual liberty is a beautiful thing.

LIBERTY, y'all.

And THAT'S How I Won the X-Games

I totally stole this image.
That's why it says "masterfile".

Facebook Status: It may be all Zen to you to practice your flute in the middle of the woods at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, but to me, on my first trail ride, coming around a bend and hearing faint strains of Bach's Partita in A minor only reminds me a bit of a whacked out suburban version of Deliverance. And I'm already peddling as fast as I can.

Yep. My first trail ride.

I left the house at around 6:15 a.m. after mapping and remapping my route obsessively via mapmyride.com. I had 12 miles scheduled and I've been spoiled by Sarah planning our routes. But she couldn't bike that day so I decided to Navy Seal it and do some trail riding. (Because if Navy Seals rode their bikes to train for a sprint triathlon they would totally go trail. Blindfolded.  While being chased by rabid squirrels.) Also, major roads (the kinds my neighborhood is surrounded by) still freak me out (maybe because Brian, in his deep seeded love for cyclists, mentions taking them out with his car how much he hates sharing the road with them whenever cycling enters the conversation).  So hitting up a place that dubbed me the biggest threat had a certain appeal.

I spent most of the ride pretending I was in the X-Games. I made sure I had my hardcore face on, and skidded on the gravel as much as possible because I have poor balance and limited overall control of my ride.  There were a ton of (imaginary and consequently invisible) fans cheering me on, and I mugged for the (again, imaginary and invisible) cameras and enjoyed a few voice-over commentary moments.  Like,

"Kelly, tell us about that last turn, where it looked as if you were going to attempt a full pirouetting dismount."
"Well, John, it got dicey out there.  I was going so fast and misjudged the angle.  (Insert dramatic pause to catch my breath because I had just finished the event and won.)  I thought I was going to have to bail and didn't want to eat it on those tiny bits of gravel huge rocks, but thanks to my extensive ballet training (i.e. my best friend is a ballerina and uses terms like pirouette in casual conversation) I knew it would be the best way to get outta there.  Thankfully I recovered without any dance moves."

also

"Kelly, on bridge number four you made this fantastic face - tell us what you were thinking."
"Are you referring to when I came out of the saddle, John?  I was thinking, "I'm totally riding out of the saddle.  In the middle of the woods.  And it's gorgeous out. And since I'm standing up I can see the stream raging river below the bridge.  And at the next games I'm going to suggest we ditch the bridges and ride through the rapids.  Because this is the X-Games, not a tea party*."

*not a political statement.  It's simply that I have a gaggle of girlies and have partaken in my fair share of actual tea parties.  And they are nothing like the X-Games.  But now that I'm on a tangent, I remember my children frequently wear their bathing suits and jump off the couch into a blue comforter. They also paddle board, surf, and barefoot ski on the same blue comforter, so, yeah, my house is pretty much like a year round X-Games.

Miles 8-9 took place on a paved trail where I experienced my first X-Games medal ceremony.  And really, it was almost embarrassing to win so many of the gold.  I also saw a group of deer, which was cool but completely unexpected as I was really close to a major highway.  Because I was going so fast (have I mentioned that yet?) I came upon them suddenly, and they were only a few feet away before they took off.

Also?  I've seen a number of sweet neighborhood rabbits on my morning runs.  They generally slowly hop away as I approach.  But I have a different effect on rabbits while on my bike.  They freak the heck out.  I wanted to be all, "Dude, rabbits, I'm cool.  I wouldn't run you over or hunt you.  Even if it was the end of the world.  Or the Hunger Games.  Probably."  But then I thought about it and knew I was lying in my head to those poor rabbits.  But maybe not.  Because although I would totally eat them during the Hunger Games, I would let someone else hunt them.  So, semantics = not a liar. Awesome.

I have another trail ride tomorrow - a scheduled 15 miles.  And in honor of the summer Olympics,  I might take a break from the X-Games, and enter a few cycling events there.  So I'll probably pass Michael Phelps as the most successful athlete in history.  Better call Guinness. (The World Records, not the beer.) (Heathen.)