Iron Girl 2014

The Comeback Race

I had raced Iron Girl in 2009 and then entered graduate school that fall. At the time, I had completed several triathlons and half marathons, and although obtaining a graduate degree was a goal I’d had for 20 years, I felt conflicted at the thought of giving up multisport. A year later, I took a new job that was faster paced, that required longer hours and a longer commute both to school and home, which also slowed down the completion of my degree. It became increasingly difficult to maintain any kind of base in any sport, and I stopped and started running numerous times only to become caught up in a time vortex.

I graduated in December 2013, right around the time of Iron Girl registration, which typically sells out in a day or two. Reclaiming this part of my life was a big goal of mine and the temptation to register was overwhelming.

Getting back into shape was a slow process. Prior to graduation, I had a busy fall with work and school and was tired on many levels. It didn’t surprise me when I came down with the flu from hell which took a month out of my training and wiped out any small base I may have had. Around the end of February, my running log read, “Long road back day 1…” for a workout of less than a half-hour. I built from there, very gradually to avoid any injury.

The Great Allegheny Passage bike trip was also on my post-grad school bucket list, and although I’d been cycling, I was under-prepared for the 30 mile uphill climb at a 2 percent grade up to the continental divide, using a rented bike loaded with panniers. The first day I acquired an overuse injury or perhaps aggravated a long-ago sports injury.

Recovering from the knee injury took a bit of time, and then I reinjured the knee during a big brick on the race course two weeks prior to the race. I embarked on the weirdest taper yet. I used a combination of Advil and rest for a week, then did a swim, bike and run workout in four days followed by another three days of rest before race day.

I had a major pre-race case of nerves. I totally freaked out on the run workout when I still felt the ache in my knee come and go and wondered if I should even race. The major effects of the injury seemed diminished, and it wasn’t a race ending injury. I was a little bit undecided up until the point that I racked my bike the night before, which was the point of no return. I knew that no race is ever a given, particularly at this point in my life so I decided to go for it.

The race itself almost didn’t happen. Shortly after registration, the company that put on the event went bankrupt. Fortunately, another local organization acquired Iron Girl and another triathlon with a deep local history, and the organization put on other events that had been planned.

Race Day Recap

In the intervening years, I had upgraded my bike and all cycling equipment. I dug out and gathered up the rest of my old equipment. One thing that changed was that I decided to take minimalist approach to transition. I got a small, light inexpensive cloth sack with strings and took only the equipment that I needed to avoid having to carrying a heavier load in a tired state.

I bought a tri top at an end-of-summer sale, planning to do a tri, although I never did until now, so I fortuitously had a great looking top to wear. This was truly awesome – how often do we have a great new top to wear without the trauma of trying to find the perfect wardrobe piece?!

The awkward juxtaposition was that I was a seasoned athlete with the benefit of experience – and a newbie. I made some really rookie mistakes. The first was forgetting my goggles. I should have made a packing list, just as I had done before for races and still do for all professional conferences. I failed to think about how gravelly the paved path was from transition to the swim start – many other athletes wore cheap flip flops and left them at the start. I had a hard time walking and my feet got scratched up.

However, I also had the genius to make a swim wave cheat sheet. The race organizers used swim waves as in the past, but within each wave used a time trial start, letting people in the water two at a time. The organizers anticipated 6-8 minutes per wave, which would have meant that I would not get in the water until over an hour after the start. I am deaf and use a cochlear implant, which cannot be worn in the water, so I wasn’t able to hear the announcements. I planned to use the time to make a last-minute trip to the bathroom. 

The cheat sheet provided visual information about the progress of swim waves, and even those with typical hearing borrowed it for their review! In the end, the waves went faster than anticipated and I was in the water 45 minutes after the start.

I was embarrassed to tell the bodymarkers to write the number 50. As I gathered with others in my age group, perhaps one of the most psychologically important parts of this race was to see other athletes my own age.

I lacked any recent open water practice, and I made the rookie mistake of panicking after getting into the water and choking a bit on some inhaled water. I tried to calm down and relax. Swimming is normally my easiest sport and I tend to think of the swim portion of the race as a “refreshing warm-up,” before the more challenging parts begin. However, the goggles leaked and it was primarily a breast stroke day for me, and although I did get sort of a freestyle stroke going at times, I never completely got into my groove as I’d wanted.

I made conscious decisions about how I was going to conserve energy on the course. The big brick that I’d done involved a narrated group ride with strategies for navigating the course and I picked up some good tips. Among them were to go easy the first few miles. “You’ll see people racing those first few miles and they will blow up on the hills at the end of the course.” So true! I heard a steady stream of “on your left” in the first miles, but then passed people that were younger than I as I climbed the bigger hills at the end.

I was seriously worried about having enough endurance to be able to run at all. In the end, I getting sore at this time and ran slowly, walking a major portion including all of the major hills on the run course.

The race involved a mixture of emotions. I was happy to finish because completing this race was something I’d very much wanted, and I even had a sense of disbelief that I’d actually finished. I was also sad because it is the slowest triathlon I’ve done, although I know that I’m about a year away from actually racing and I know I gave a good effort.

Where Do I Go From Here?

This is the question that sums up my entire post-grad life, with sports and way beyond. My immediate goal is to deal with the knee injury so that it is no longer an issue. I did do a basic bike fit, which resulted in some general adjustments. I may do a fundraiser bike ride, but my other goal is simply to continue to build my base this fall, particularly my running base. After that, I don’t know—we’ll see where it goes!

Baltimore Half-Marathon 2009

This was my second Baltimore Half Marathon. The race went a lot better than I thought it would. I love the big city marathon and the celebration of running, and I love the fact that I can be there to participate in it. The half marathon is great because the marathoners pass the half marathon going down to Fort McHenry at the 9 mile mark, and we get to see the elites run past. Then, by the time we take off, we get to see the runners coming back up at the 13 mile mark, so there are marathon runners going both ways and the half marathoners just getting started, huge crowds and a band playing. Great!

The weather threatened rain, and I was afraid there would be a shower before we took off, leaving everyone soggy. However, the rain came just as the half-marathoners took off and the event organizers assured us that it would "keep us cool." Yeah, right. However, it wasn't too bad because it was a light drizzle and not a hard, soaking rain.

I started out, just trying to get into my groove with running. Last year, I stuck to a 4 min run/1 min walk ratio, but this year I was stronger and was able to run all of the way. I was anxious to get to Patterson Park, where the half and full marathoners merge. I looked at the backs of the marathoners and noticed that I was near the 4:00 and 4:15 pacing groups. This was a lot better than last year, when I was near the 5:00 pace group. Patterson Park also has a big cheering section and a band playing, so this is a very great, uplifiting point.

Then we head up through the East Side of Baltimore. This highlight here was seeing a section of town the looked like it had been revitalized in the past year, which was nice to see. It's weird running through this section of town because there are very few cars, even on roads that allow parking. This is in sharp contrast to the Patterson Park section of town just a few blocks to the south. That section is completely parked up and lined with cars. I see the boarded up houses and realize that is why there are no cars. Even where there are people living in the houses, there a few cars. Police are on every corner in this section of town, but they are absent along the course in other sections, such as the well-to-do neighborhood around Johns Hopkins University.

Then, I passed the 6 mile mark and looked at my watch 1:10, a minute faster than my 10K time. I'll take it. I felt that I'd been running leisurely, so that was encouraging. I tried to run the hills "mindfully" slowing down and using the same level of effort and then speeding up a bit on the top of the hills. I made my way up to Clifton Park and Lake Montebello, another favorite section of the race. I followed my race plan and tried to run faster around this flat section.

This year, I noticed the Gel station. I've known about it in the past, but was never able to find the gels. It really didn't matter, however, because I just don't like gels, try as I might. Instead, I came up with a great idea this year. I wore my race number on my shirt so that I was visible. Underneath, I wore my race belt with an expandable pouch loosely around my waist, with the pouch in the back. Inside, I was able to put a few necessities: my keys, money, and pain relievers in a plastic bag, in which I could place my cochlear implant processor if there was a hard rain. I also carried a shot block and even though I wasn't hungry or tired, I decided to take two pieces of the shot block around mile 7. This was one of the the best ideas I had all day.

I went onward. There were a few more hills before the final miles of the race when it goes downhill. These hills were the hardest for me because by this point, I was tired of hills. I could feel myself slowing down and I was just trying to stay on pace. I felt myself rally around mile 10, thanks to the great idea of taking some shot blocks. I tried to go a bit faster. Last year, I crashed and burned around mile 10-11, but this time I was a bit stronger toward the end of the race. At mile 10, I looked at my watch and saw 1:59, just under two hours. I wanted a 2:30 PR, but I knew it might not be possible. In the last few miles, I was more aware of my surroundings than I was last year when I turned inward due to fatigue.

I took a handful of gummy bears at the infamous gummy bear station around mile 11. However, this was not the smartest move for me. At this point, I was breathing harder, and it was difficult to chew the gummy bears. I think it would have helped to take just a few gummy bears and to just focus on my running, since I think it takes about a half-hour for energy to kick in from any food intake.

I headed toward the finish. I had several instances of accidental elbowing. It could be that I was still with the 4:00 to 4:15 or even 4:30 marathon finishers, which is a popular finish time, and there were many runners being crowded into one lane of the road. This was mildly irritating.

Finally....I got near the stadium and tried to rally toward the finish line. And it was all over. I managed to PR by 4 minutes after all and came in with a time of 2:34:37 and an average pace of 11:49. Not what I wanted, but not bad. Last year, I averaged a 12:06 minute mile, most likely due to the slow finish.

My husband finished the marathon in 6:28:39.

Post-Race Letdown
I am now experiencing the post-race letdown. I went into the race injured after fully realizing that I had an ITBS injury the first week of the taper. During my longest run, the supported course run, my entire left leg hurt at mile 10 and I hadn't been able to keep running. I went into the race not knowing if I could even finish. The best idea I had was to get an ITBS strap the day before the race. I credit the strap for keeping me in the race. I could feel the soreness, and there were several moments when it really flared up and I had my doubts. But I was able to keep running relatively comfortably the entire race. But the race produced an ITB flareup and I found that when I removed the strap right after the race, the inflammation prevented me from walking, so I put the strap back on.

For right now, I'm hanging up my spurs for a long layoff due to injury. I envision massage, a visit to an orthopod/physiatrist, and a short course of PT in my future. From what I read, ITBS is an injury that lingers.

While I wished my husband well and made the day as special as possible by asking my son to make a poster for his father, I wished I had done the marathon.

As an aside...I'll be happy to take the credit for training my husband for the marathon, even though I've never done one myself. I talked to him about getting his base up when he signed up for a marathon without one. When he neglected to pick a training plan, I picked one out for him. I solved his sweat issue, his wardrobe issue, and his chafing issue. I got him a massage at a critical juncture and massaged him myself other times. I talked to him about his posture. I talked to him about having three plans for race day: Plan A "blessed by the gods," Plan B "most likely reality," and Plan C "doomsday scenario." When he experienced "marathon taper madness," I helped him understand what he was going through. And then, I wished him a great race, and told him I'd be proud, no matter what. Hubby surpassed everyone's expectations. We never thought he'd make it to the starting line...or the finish line. He surprised us all and came home a champion.

Swimming in the Fridge

It seems like whenever something really good happens to me, then something really bad happens. I am now in the middle of a family crisis that won't be resolved for a while. Of course I've developed stress-related back pain and a slobbery cold. I went to a swim meet on Saturday in effort to get my mind off of the entire situation, as if I could think of anything else. But when I came back, it took a turn for the worse. Please say a prayer for the entire family.

I was so very much on the fence about whether to go to this meet at all, but my husband encouraged me to do so. About a half-hour before the online registration system closed, I signed up. Because I'd signed up so late, I thought for sure that I wouldn't get picked for a relay, which didn't bother me this time. Wrong! The coach must have put the relay teams together immediately after the registration system closed and found my name there. The relay was actually the highlight of the day. If I'm reading the results right, I swam a very fast 100 free. Because I have not been swimming regularly and because of my life events, I chose two shorter events, thinking that it would be easier. I swam a 50 breast for the first time which turned out reasonable, but then I swam a 50 free after the relay and was 4 seconds slower than my previous time. I'm not sure why. My entry and turn was pretty good, my stroke was better, and I didn't breathe too much.

Several other things worked out well at this meet and I achieved my goal of being more independent. The online entry system generated a meet program that was e-mailed to all participants in advance of the meet. The PA system and room acoustics were good and with the printed program, it was easy to follow along and know when I needed to be on deck. I walked up to the starters before the meet, introduced myself and explained that I'm deaf and requested a visual signal, which was no problem. They made a note of my events and my request and the visual signal helped me dive right in! Another highlight was when my coach teased me about my hearing loss. When we were lined up for the relay, he was there encouraging the two teams. "Did you hear what they said?" he asked me. I said no -- and realized the joke was on me. Of course he knew that I couldn't hear anything at all.

One of the best things about being on the swim team is the inspirational people I meet. Before the meet, I began chatting with a women who mentioned that she was swimming "unattached," meaning that she wasn't affiliated with a particular team. She'd swum years ago when she was in college, and now that here children were off in college themselves, she was taking up swimming again at two local pools. I was amazed. I wouldn't have been brave enough to navigate through an entire swim meet unless I had a team to be with. I hope she joins up to a team.

The meet was held at a pool with the room temperature of a refrigerator. Before long, I realized that everyone was cold, not just me. One team member came prepared with a fleece jacket to wear in between events, but noted that he's been to other meets at this location. The locker rooms had cold, clammy concrete floors and the only saving grace was the steamy, hot showers.

Baltimore Half-Marathon

Everything about the half-marathon was perfect.

This year, I did packet pickup and learned how to drive to the stadium using the official directions to reach the parking lot. It sounds silly but for years, I looked at the stadium map and the directions, but I could never figure it out. One big reason I wanted my husband to do the race with me was so that he could drive. This year, I finally figured out how to get there.

Last year, we left the house later and wound up scrambling for a parking spot after the roads closed, making it to the starting line with only 5 mins. to spare. This time, I made a detailed agenda because my husband would be doing the 5K and I would be doing the half-marathon. The agenda called for leaving the house earlier and we arrived at the stadium in plenty of time for parking.

Every single race (with the exception of the kid's fun run) was sold out this year. We watched the marathoners take off. First there were walkers, then wheelchair athletes, then the marathoners. I was surprised to see so many people scrambling to get in line at the last minute, but the sendoff was beautiful with confetti in the air.

Next, my husband took off with the 5K runners. The race starts off with a hill and I know he was really nervous about that hill. His strategy was to go out fast, rather than get stuck behind a mass of slow-moving people. It worked--too well. He hit mile 1 at 9 minutes, but then found himself out of energy for the rest of the race, which goes downhill. The route was also changed this year, which confused Tim and foiled his finish line strategy. Still, he had a great race and PR of 31:10--this is faster than my best time of 31:40!! He achieved his goal of being faster than I am.

Then, I headed over to the half-marathon start line which was about a half-mile away. I really had to go to the bathroom bad, and I was so grateful when I ducked into the Sheraton on the way and asked where the bathroom was, they directed me to it instead of making a fuss because I wasn't staying there. Of course, the next time I wanted to go, I got into the porta potty line like everyone else. The half-marathon begins at mile 13 of the marathon and I watched the marathoners go past on their way to Fort McHenry, and by the time we were ready to take off a little less than an hour later, the marathoners were coming back from FortMcHenry and passing us! Very impressive.

The day was the perfect temparature. In previous years, it's been in the 40s in the early morning, but it running clothes it felt like standing outside in the middle of winter in underwear. Today, the temperature was probably in the 50s in the early morning. Warm enough to stand outside and feel cool, but not cold. I hate being cold, so I put on two old long-sleeve shirts that I planned to discard, avoiding additional lines at the baggage check. Before the half-marathon start, the day was warming up nicely and I left my shirts near the start.

I still couldn't believe I was going to run 13.1 miles. But soon enough, confetti was released into the air and we started and headed past Johns Hopkins to Patterson Park. At the southwest corner of the park, we merged with the marathoners. As we went northward along the length of the park, there were actually two lanes, one for half-marathoners and one for marathoners, probably to ensure a gradual transition. But then the lane ended and we were all together. It was both inspiring and humbling to be running alongside people who had already run 16 miles, when were were only getting started with our race after three miles.

We ran northward through the dilapidated neighborhood in the east side of Baltimore. I've never seen so many boarded up houses. But people sat on their doorstep and watched and clapped and rang cowbells. Little kids gave runners a "high five." It made me feel really special. I reached mile 5 at about approximately 58 minutes, a bit off my projected time, and I hit mile 6 around 1:11, which is my 10K time on a flatter course. I was doing good. My right knee hurt, of course, but this went away as I went onward. I trained using a 4/1 run-walk ratio and now used it consistently throughout the race. Using a run-walk ratio was the smartest thing I ever did in training.

From about mile 5 to 10 the race is essentially one long climb....through the east side of Baltimore. Then runners come on Clifton Park which is pretty and then the beautiful Lake Montebello neighborhood. At the lake, there was a band playing and as I rounded the lake, I could hear strains of "I love rock 'n roll!" I loved it when neighborhoods play music. I never listen to music when I'm running, but I can see why so many people do because it's so motivational. The lake was beautiful and so was the older, established neighborhood around it. When I hit the 10 mile mark, I'd been running for nearly 2 hours. My hips began to feel sore, as they had during my longest run, so I'd expected this.

Then I came to the famous gummy bear station at 28th and Guilford when several volunteers stand around with silver platters with gummy bears. I let out a "ohhhhhhhh" and grabbed a handful. It was wonderful to put the little bears into my mouth one by one and chew them as I chugged along. By now, not only did my hips hurt, but everything below my hips were sore. The irony in all this was that my foot was fine--or at least it wasn't talking any louder than anything else below the waist.

The last 3 miles of the race are downhill, as the runners head south from the Johns Hopkins University campus to the finish. Before the race, I thought I would just coast through those last downhill miles. WRONG!!! I completely failed to consider how physically and psychologically difficult those last 3 miles can be--downhill or not. The hills had taken a lot out of me and I slowed to a shuffle. At times, I felt like my right leg was going to give out under me, and I slowed to a walk break, but never for more than a minute. Finally, it hurt too much to run, walk, then run again, so I just kept running very slowly. I was so very grateful for all of the spectators clapping, cheering, and playing music. Even if I wasn't visully aware of my surroundings in my fatigue, I could hear spectators say things like "just keep moving." And I did. I'm pleased with my race, satisfied with my time, but less than thrilled with the slow, shuffling finish.

And then I hit the finish line in 2:38:10 and it was all over. This race concludes a season of firsts for me.

I like this video and now I can totally relate--even if I didn't do a full marathon!

Manassas Mini Tri 2008

At first, I wasn't even going to do this race and instead go right to a sprint -- but I'm soooooo glad I did! I was inspired to do so because I'd read reports about other beginners starting with a super sprint. I'm really glad this series is held, because it's the perfect introduction to a triathlon, which is what it's designed to be, and for others, a great way to start the season. The distances were not intimidating at all:
250 yard swim
4 mile bike
1.4 mile run.

The race was an excellent opportunity to round up my gear and go! I was sooooo excited and nervous about the race, much, much more than I thought I would be!! I used a checklist given to me by a member of the swim team to round up my gear the night before. I fretted that I might forget something, but I didn't. Everything was just perfect. With three disciplines and two transitions, I worried that I would forget to do something, but I didn't. Well, I almost forgot to get bodymarked, but my helpful husband who came along reminded me. The pettiest things confounded me. I couldn't figure out how to get the race number on the race belt until I saw someone else do it. Once the race got underway, everything more or less fell into place.

Swim 5:18
I was seeded at the beginning of the race, and was the 36th person in the water (out of about 280). I found it really challenging to get in the water and go. Unlike a swim meet, we had no opportunity to warm up in the water and I had to get in and start swimming fast. The snake swim format of touching the wall on both sides of the lane marker plays into my bad habits. When given the opportunity, I'll hold onto the wall and take a few breaths. This gives me the opportunity to rest as people bunch up in the middle of the swim...but then we spread out, so it went well.

As I swam, I couldn't help but think that the swim team was great preparation. The race was almost like swim practice in which there's the intimacy of having 7 co-ed people in a lane and all the splashing that ensues. The swim team is also a great introduction to swimming as a contact sport as I sometimes accidentally hit other people and they accidentally hit me. Nobody complains. In the race, there was one guy tapping my toes, and of course I tried to swim faster, but I thought he should just back off a bit.

T1
Took really long....way too long. The transition times weren't reported, but it can be surmised from the overall time. I wore my crocs into the pool area and put my cochlear implant processor in them. A friend suggested that I put them near where I come out of the pool, but since I couldn't tell where I'd come out, I had to ask permission to walk across the pool and get it. I also expected this transition to be lengthy because I spent time putting on my socks and tying my shoes and generally assembling myself. Should I put on the race belt now, or later? I clipped and unclipped the belt. Sunglasses on or off? Let me decide. Next time, I'll make a plan and stick with it to avoid making all of these decisions mid-race.

Bike 21:18:00
Flat and fast, but for me very slow. Cycling is my weakest area and many people who were next to me in the swim passed me. I'll have to work on this. As I came back into transition, I also remembered to put my bike in lowest gear to generate leg turnover for the run.

T2
Much faster because I simplified things by using my running shoes for the entire race. But for the most part, the race was an opportunity to experiment and try things that I might do in the future.

Run 12:56
I started out behind a 61-year-old gentleman -- the oldest person in the race -- although I didn't stay behind him. I was surprised by how tired I was at the end of the short-distance race.

And then in 39:32 minutes, it was all over. I finished in the middle of the pack in my age group. I had a great time!








A sherbet green bike is really easy to find in transition!

Clyde's 10K 2008

It was our day--and it wasn't our day after all.

This year, I decided to volunteer for the race and was assigned to help with packet pickup on race day, starting at 6:30 a.m. For some reason, I was nervous about doing this for such a large race and recruited another volunteer--my husband. But the procedure for packet pickup was really easy. Participants looked up their bib number and then gave it to the volunteers, who would hand them their packet. Then they went to the next group of tables and asked for a race shirt. The race was sold-out at 1,500 people, so where was no race day registration, making it even more logistically simple.

My biggest surprised was meeting the race director, who I never expected to me as I assumed he'd be too busy doing other things. But there he was, helping to set up tables in the pre-dawn hours and instructing volunteers on what needed to be done. Throughout the entire morning he was here and there, attending to the myriad of details in running one of the largest local races. He took the time to answer questions and speak with each volunteer and never seemed rushed. He was very classy.

I also enjoyed talking to other runners and hearing stories from other races that they'd been in. One person had do the JFK 50-miler three times!! He was one person I wished he had talked more about his achievements and war stories on that trail, but he was very modest. One tradition that runners have is to wear shirts from other races, and I enjoyed seeing the shirts from a variety of races, including some that I'd like to enter someday.

In the midst of volunteering, I'd forgotten to take a bathroom break, and when registration closed 15 minutes before the start, the lines were just too long to get there. That made me grumpy!! Last year, the race took place in torrential rain, but this year, it was overcast and cool with a nice breeze and the rain held off long enough to complete the race.

The night before the race, Tim wanted to drive the course so that he could see where the hills were, which turned out to be a great idea. I had a clear idea of the course and all of the mile markers. I ran the race, knocking off one mile after another, passing people along the way. To take my mind off of everything else, I tried to focus on my breathing. After volunteering, I think I had more appreciation for all of the volunteers out there on the course handing out water, and especially, clapping and cheering at strategic points, such as at the top of a long hill.

I finished in exactly the same time as I did last year, right down to the second. I came away disappointed, as I'd secretly hoped to improve my time. The race capped off a week on my couch, with the exception of a two-mile run. I had an arm injury and didn't swim. Then my training was foiled with my usual spring scheduling problem. I have no motivation to get up in the pre-dawn hours and run on my treadmill when I know it's going to be 70 degrees and sunny later that day. But when the afternoon comes, other obligations steal away the time I'd planned to run or bike.

After the race, I suddenly plunged into a feverish sickness and my husband and I took to our bed for the rest of the day, he with his computer and frozen vegetable ice bags and me with Tylenol and cough drops. I hope to be well and get back to my usual training schedule!

17 Again...or Not

I swam my first master's swim meet, the first meet since high school. The meet was the season finale which was held at the U.S. Naval Academy. I was curious to see the swim facilities at the academy, and pool was really nice and crystal clear.

Before the meet, I finally got up the nerve to put on my new racing suit. The suit I'd been wearing, while pretty, wasn't made for speed swimming and had very little give in the torso. The new suit had been on my dresser for a month, but practice after practice went by and I couldn't bring myself to wear it. There are no "kindest cut" racing suits for the middle-aged figure--although I think there should be! Every suit I put on looked horrible, highlighting some figure flaw or risking overexposure. Finally, I realized that my mind was what needed to change. Of course, all of my teammates noticed the suit right away and complimented it, while I stammered something about getting up the nerve to wear the suit.

At the meet, I showed up punctually and started my warmup. After swimming a few laps, I began to use the blocks to start. To my horror, every single time I dove in, my goggles fell off or they came apart at the nose bridge. Panicked, I sought the assistance of my coach and one of the really experienced swimmers on the team. They tightened my goggle straps to a migraine-inducing tightness and suggested that I wear my swim cap over the goggles, pulled down over my forehead. Before the meet, I wanted to practice diving off the blocks, but was afraid to ask and say that I'd developed a mental complex about the starting block. After a few more dives, I was somewhat more comfortable and managed to keep most of the water out of my goggles, which was a small reassurance.

I swam the 50 free in 37:90 and thought I did alright, although I could feel myself slow down perceptibly over the last few yards. Afterwards, my coach came by and corrected my stroke and I was glad to hear it. However, I knew that I was getting distracted by the starting bock, my goggles, the competition, and I wasn't really focused on my stroke as much as I could. There's one member of the team who gives stroke pointers to everyone. He has an uncanny ability to just glance at someone in the water and tell how their stroke could be improved, and he spent a lot of time helping a teammate with her stroke at the meet. I learn a lot just by listening to him and watching him coach other swimmers, and I later learned that he had swum on the national team in the Philippines.

After that, I swam a relay with the team. I think I must have been picked for the relay just because I showed up early, not because of any actual talent that I might contribute. The mixed relay paired men and women, and I and another inexperienced swimmer were paired with more experienced, faster swimmers on the team. We came in last. But even some of the faster swimmers on the team got washed away by the competition.

Before the meet, I hit my longtime goal of being able to do flip turns again. I started practicing them when I swam by myself, but when I began practicing with the team, I felt so distracted by all of the people swimming close together in the lane that I didn't want to flip. But after the realization that I was spending too much time hanging onto the wall taking a few breaths, I pressured myself to flip again, and I did, most of the time. I was able to flip in competition, but during the relay I flipped too soon and nearly missed the wall.

At the meet, the most amazing event was seeing one of the team's coaches swim the 200 yd fly. I marveled at his aerobic capacity to stay underwater for half of the length of the pool before surfacing, and then he breathed only every other stroke. The team stroke sage explained that in staying underwater and going deep and coming up actually propelled him when he began swimming.

Next, I swam the 100 free in 1:24 and then the 200 free in 3:10. I'd been ambivalent about signing up for the 200 free--an event which combines both speed and endurance in equal measures--but wanted a third event and decided to sign up. I regretted it, as I was tired at this point and really dragging. By the time I finished, all of my competition had gotten out of the water. Very discouraging.

The swim meet was all about everything that I couldn't do in high school, and the events that I signed up for were the ones I couldn't swim back then. At that time, my event was the 500 free but now I don't want to touch it. I went out for the swim team, not because I was fast swimmer, but because I moved to a new town where my favorite sport, the one that I was actually good at--synchronized swimming--wasn't available. I'd been lap swimming in the morning and after being challenged by my high school guidance counselor who happened to coach the team, I decided to move on to speed swimming. I believe the coach put me in the 500 free because I was slower, but could endure. It was the event that nobody else on the team wanted to do. In high school, you do what the coach tells you to, but now, I can swim whatever events I want. If I do another meet, I'll focus on shorter events, maybe 50 free, 50 breast, and 100 free. Thankfully, I've forgotten all of my times so everything seems almost new to me now.

So many things have changed since high school. I've had five great years with the cochlear implant, and I enjoy the conversation that swirls around me in the locker room and talking to my teammates. What could I hear in high school? Not much.

But the thing that hasn't changed is that without modern technology, I'm still deaf in the water. In high school, someone tapped my ankle to start me so that I could get off the bock. But now, I want to be more independent. So for my first event, I started off the block myself, just by watching what other people were doing. I was gratified that I could start independently, although in reality the independence is probably costing me precious seconds and I'm probably the last one off the block and in the water. At the end of the meet, an official told me that I could use an arm signal to start, if I wanted.

The meet motivated me to get in the water and focus on my swimming! My goals are to work harder in practice, not just survive practice as I've been doing. I also want to focus on improving my stroke, and to focus on being focused in competition, without environment distracting me from my stroke and my swimming. I also want to be more independent in getting myself down to the deck for my events. My reward is two new swim caps, building a collection just as I'd wished.

Baltimore 5K

I really wanted to be in Baltimore on Oct. 13 and I couldn't believe how excited my husband and I were about the race. I love the feel, the excitement, and the crowds in a big-city race. The weather was perfect. It was warmer than last year, about 47 degrees which was cool, but not cold.

We almost didn't make it. My logistics called for leaving the house at 7 a.m. for a half-hour drive into Baltimore with 15 minutes to park and walk to the starting line. This would give us 45 minutes before the start of the race to stretch, go to the bathroom, and watch the marathoners take off. But hubby decided to take a different road into Baltimore, and this cost us a stress-filled and argumentative 30+ minutes. The roads were closing and cars formed a single file line which snaked slowly into the stadium parking area which was filled to capacity. I honestly thought we'd never get to the starting line at all. But in the nick of time we found a parking spot and sprinted over to the starting line with just 10 minutes to spare. We swear we'll leave the house earlier next year and watch our stress management!

And we took off. Both of us found it easier this year now that we knew the course and what to expect. The Baltimore course is known for its hills, and the 5K race heads uphill for the first mile or so. I tried to think of it as a long incline, which I prefer to steep hills. I hit mile 1 at 12 minutes, as I did last year. Then the rest of the course went downhill, and I was able to speed up. I felt pretty good, considering that I hadn't run at all for several weeks since the injury and I took the last week off completely to rest a sore muscle on the side of my leg. As I was heading toward the finish line I got a right side stitch, so I tried to deal with it. The biggest hazard on the course was potholes and sewer covers and I nearly turned my ankle on one, but then a running angel caught my elbow and asked if I was OK. I replied that I was, but never said thank you. Thank you!

I came in at 31:40 -- a personal record for me!! It was a really great day and I was happy to be there and happy to be in the running.

My goal now is base, base, base!!!! I need a stronger base and a higher level of fitness to get to the next step.

Clyde's 10K

I almost didn't run this race. The temperatures were in the low 40s and it was pouring rain the whole time. I hate rain. It's one of my least favorite weather conditions, and I've never even run in the rain before. I did all my pre-race preparations and then decided to go and sit in my car in the parking lot, and then make a decision about heading to the starting line. I decided to wear my capris shortly before leaving the house, as I didn't want to look unseasonal. But I decided to bring along my tights, just in case. As I sat in the car I could see many runners in tights, and I make a last-minute decision to put on my tights in the car. Nobody saw that, right?! It was the best decision I made. The tights saved the day! They kept my leg muscles warm and I didn't even feel the rain. I love my tights.

But the rain came pouring down. And when it did, I just closed my eyes and turned inward. After a desultory start, I actually began to wake up as the race went on. Three miles went by easily. I paced myself by a woman and her daughters that were running together, but there were two hills in the race, which were actually long inclines, and I lost speed as my pacers gained ground. After mile five, I couldn't believe that the race was coming to an end, and I tried to pick up the pace as I got to the finish line. I caught up to my pacers and tried to pass, but then my CI fell off and I had to stop and mess with it. I'll have to get an earmold made so this doesn't happen again. I came in strong for a finish in 1:08:26.30, which was OK. But most of all, I made it through the 10K easily and I discovered that I like this distance.

It wasn't until afterward that I really felt the effects of the rain and the cold as I began shivering. I never realized that my husband had been at the finish line cheering me on until he caught up with me at the restaurant that sponsored the race. It was really sweet of him to come out to see me on such a miserable day.

I finally jump-started my CAE studying by approaching it like a training plan for the half-marathon. Using the state association study guide as a template, I made up a plan for the next 21 weeks, outlining the number of weeks I'd spend on each of 10 domains. I'm gaining ground on each of two goals.