"You Can't Coach Desire"

I must dish on my husband – yes, AGAIN :) - and also because this post is about him. Steve has the gift of prolonged youth – I mean, does that guy in the picture above look like he’s pushing 50??

The gift has spilled over into other aspects of his life too. Maybe it’s his wild wife that gives him the fire, but he persistently views life as an adventure and age as only a number. I wish more people thought this way. I see so many people in a frightful hurry – in traffic, at airports, in the grocery store - and for what? To cram more activities into an already-full life? Or to cram more activities into a relatively empty life, hoping to stumble upon some purpose or meaning?

Steve is nearly never in a hurry, and truth be told, sometimes it’s a bit annoying, but in reality it’s me who needs to slow down at those times. Sure there are occasions when being in a hurry is appropriate, like when crossing a busy intersection or when you’ve waited too long to go to the bathroom, but by and large being in a hurry is addictive and a slippery slope to becoming an elegant excuse for being “busy” – the (misguided) siren call of having purpose and meaning in our lives. (More on that in a different post).

So in true non-hurried character, Steve came to me with his training goals yesterday – after weeks of having the outline on his desk. He put a lot of thought into them and it showed. He was also highly organized, using paper like this, which makes anything easy to read. Sure impressed me!

He has a LOT of natural ability, especially in running speed. I’m certain if a coach had encouraged him in high school, he would’ve been a track star, possibly All-American – he’s that good.

There’s a rub, though. While I have to claw my way to every gain in speed and ability, I have LOADS of drive and enthusiasm, and it’s enough for both of us, more like the entire neighborhood. In fact at times I think it’s over the top for Steve, kind of like an overenthusiastic preacher who’s sounding the altar call for everyone to come forward to REPENT AND BE SAVED!! (Well-intentioned but a bad idea…) Steve is very patient though, and given that it’s impossible to not answer THE call from the Creator of the Universe (in the Bible every encounter a human had with God was off the charts to say the least), my relentless fitness pursuits over the years have ignited a flame he can call his own.

He is willing to push the envelope. It’s no accident he looks as young as he does. He’s a former Marine and has made a lifelong investment into taking care of his health, eating sensibly and exercising regularly. But he’s willing to draw a line – actually several – and push past where he is now into the Unknown. There were items on his Goal Sheet that I previously thought would NEVER come about unless pigs sprouted wings.

This is huge for my husband. It’s the key that turns the lock for him – desire. My coach coined the phrase I used for the title of this article, and it is absolutely true – you can’t coach desire. While God gave me the gift of enduring health, He was far more generous on the desire front, and I’ve longed to see Steve’s aspirations come alongside his exceptional abilities. He doesn’t view exercise with the same enthusiasm as I do, more as a necessary evil (like a yearly physical complete with the requisite probing), but there are goals that he wants to achieve – badly, mind you – and he’s willing to move the line and go to the next level. YEAH BABY!!

So we had The Talk yesterday – about goals, both short-term and long-term, how badly we want to achieve them, and the price we are each willing to pay to get there.

I heartily applaud my husband’s desire to improve. Life itself is often not an easy journey, and there have been and will be days when the last thing he wants to do is get up early to train. But I know from personal experience that often those are the days when the opportunity for growth is the greatest. I cannot remember either feeling personally or hearing another athlete regretting they got out to do what was necessary to move closer to their goals. When we were babies, it was fine to mostly do what we wanted. As adults, we must realize there is a price to pay for anything, and our willingness to pay is driven by our desire to achieve the goal.

I have an awesome coach and am regularly humbled by her relentless pursuit of her goals. She gets the job done under the most daunting circumstances and is undeterred. My grandmother had this trait and it resonates with me as well. We don’t know how to say quit in anything.

I can’t wait to see what the next 12 months unfolds for Steve. It’s been said (and not kindly I might add) that behind every good man is a great woman. I am “behind” Steve 1000%, but I much prefer to walk alongside him as his wife and buddy, and rejoice with him in all the hard-won and God-honoring victories that are headed his way :).

Not Alone…A Saab Story…and Ironman Kansas Race Report

I love traveling with Steve. In fact, I love doing everything with him. As our blog profile says, he is my lifelong best friend, the childhood buddy I never had. Don’t get me wrong – I had (and have) great friends from school and we still stay in touch. But there is nothing like knowing and being known by another person who appreciates and loves you for who you REALLY are – warts and all. Someone who cries with you when you’re hurt and celebrates every victory, no matter how small. The fact this person is my husband is icing on the cake.

So I was doubly excited as we got up at o’dark-thirty Saturday morning to make the drive to Lawrence, KS, site of the inaugural Ironman Kansas 70.3. I was fired up for the race as well as being in the car with my partner-in-comedy for the next 5 hours. Steve is a great navigator and I love to drive, so we never have trouble deciding who’ll do what on a roadtrip. About the only rule we have is that there must be fair warning given if someone passes gas :).

The trip was fun and uneventful. (The “eventful” had yet to come about). We arrived in downtown Lawrence, picked up my packet, found another awesome pair of 2XU tri-shorts, ate a leisurely lunch, and drove out to the race site. It was 90F and I was making mental notes about how race day would look and feel Sunday.

The hills were ginormous. Whoever said “Kansas” and “flat” (maybe me?) in the same sentence is smoking something :). Clinton Lake is near what the locals call The Iron Cross – 4 roads that intersect with long lungbusting hills beckoning on each segment.

We were able to check in our bikes that afternoon. This was great – one less thing to worry about race morning, and I could focus instead on a short swim, and driving the bike course to mentally prepare for the next day.

That evening we checked into our hotel and headed to Walmart to stock up on Gatorade. When we got back out to the parking lot, the car started up fine, ran for 2 seconds, and then died. I cranked it again – nothing. One more time - no joy. We decided to let it sit for a bit and walk to a nearby restaurant for dinner; maybe something overheated and just shut down the fuel system?

45 minutes later we were back at the car and still nothing, so we headed back into Walmart to the automotive department where a really nice saleslady gave us access to her department phone and phonebook. After calling several car rental companies, I was ready to go by cab to the Kansas City airport 90 miles away to pick up a rental and deal with our sick car after the race. We walked back out to the parking lot and gave the car one more try. She started right up. I was flummoxed (really like that word, just had to use it :)), and thought maybe the fuel pump is a bit weak and we just needed to fill up the gas tank.

8 hours later at 4:30AM Sunday she started right up again. We headed to the race site undeterred, the car not starting a distant memory amid the excitement of race day.

At the race site, hundreds of athletes were already pulling into the park and we got there just in time. I setup the rest of my transition area and enjoyed the music coming from the giant speakers. Before we knew it, it was TIME, and we made our way down to the swim start.

The gun went off and so did we – age groupers in our own wave. I ended up near the back of the pack – not where I wanted – but wove my way around several swimmers. Finally the crowd broke up a bit and I could get into a groove. Clad in my wetsuit, I mainly let my legs “rest” behind me. I had seen the bike course and soon enough my limbs would be called on to make steep and sustained climbing efforts – I needed to conserve every ounce of energy possible.

Once again I was acutely aware many of my fears and discomforts of being in open water were MIA, and I could really focus on racing and not just enduring. It was liberating to just sight on the next buoy and “grab” as much water as possible with my forearms.

The swim course was triangle-shaped, and when I saw the first pylon near the beach exit I actually thought (for the first time ever) already??? I almost laughed into the water – what a hoot! The last leg of the swim was rough water, and I simply threw my arm a bit higher and farther out, and rolled a bit more to breathe.

I ran out onto the beach and saw Steve who was snapping a picture as I slowed just long enough to triumphantly pump my arm and give him a big smile.

Onto the bike! I already knew this would be a tough ride, but I’m not sure any of us gave proper homage to just how challenging it would be, or how relentless. The western part of St. Louis has such hills and I’ve ridden them and nearly hurled at the top of some. The first hill was a mindbending descent and my speed reached 40mph before the bottom. I pedaled until I could only coast, and then just tucked my knees and rested on my aerobars…and prayed. At the bottom of the hill, someone had dropped a PB&J sandwich in a baggie – a wreck waiting to happen.

What goes down must go up, and shortly thereafter the same hill we were screaming down earlier now became a gut wrenching climb. I was out of my saddle halfway up and actually shifted to a harder gear so I could simultaneously push-pull on the pedals without “bouncing” up and down on them and burning my quads.

The hills came ruthlessly, along with strong headwinds – often reaching 30mph – a challenging combination in a race. At one point, the wind was screeching in my ears so loudly I couldn’t even hear myself cursing in my head :). I turned at one part of the course, and the silence of the wind now being at my back was almost deafening. Gratefully I coasted down the mountain I had just climbed only to see athletes suffering their way up. One girl had pulled over and simply put her head down on her forearm, either crying or dealing with nausea or both.

I was not alone.

Coming into T2, I got out of my shoes, leaving them clipped into the pedals, and rode on just one side of the bike to the dismount line. Steve was right there and I would later find out that he saw athletes (even guys) dismounting their bikes, barely able to walk and some of them CRYING.

Again, I was overcome with the feeling of not being alone out there.

My adductors were screaming at me as I ran in sock feet to rack my bike and slip on my running shoes. I ran past an athlete flat on his back in the middle of the transition aisle, getting treated for dehydration or who knew what.

Amazingly my leg pain passed as I got into a groove and began picking off the miles. It was NOT easy, and it took EVERY ounce of mental energy I had left to FOCUS on putting one foot in front of the other. My stomach was not reacting well to the Clif bar I’d had on the bike, and my mind was warring between knowing the need for gels/fluids and recoiling away from any of it. I took in the nutrition anyway, knowing I would be veritably crawling to the Finish if I didn’t. Mental note: No more Clif bars on the bike…Hurl Factor too high :).

Halfway through the run, I could see the darkening sky in the distance – an approaching thunderstorm as only the Great Plains could dish up. The winds picked up and instant air conditioning suddenly swirled around me – the temps dropped 15 degrees in a matter of minutes. It started raining a bit, and I was actually COLD. Lightning flashed, and I was relatively certain if it continued they would close the course.

Close the course they did, and just as I victoriously crossed the Finish, all hell broke loose. The rain and winds were coming in sideways, and EVERYONE was suddenly racing – away from the site! Steve had just enough time to snap that lovely picture at the top – check out the tent and flag behind me.

We grabbed my stuff and by the time we got to the car, incredibly, it was SUNNY. I do understand the need for safety on the course, so I didn’t begrudge the officials for their decision to cut the race short. Hundreds of athletes didn’t get a chance to finish, but like everything else, there are things you can and cannot control and weather will deliver whatever it likes no matter what day it is.

It’s how an athlete copes with what is handed to him/her come Race Day that contains the biggest lessons for each of us on how we handle adversity – do we roll over and wet ourselves in anxiety or do we dig in and push through nonetheless, knowing we emerge stronger on the other side?

Epilogue: Halfway back to the hotel from the race, the fuel pump finally gave it up and the Saab indeed died. We got towed to a repair shop (incredible there’s an excellent foreign car shop in Topeka, KS!), and drove home Monday in a rental. This Friday we have the great privilege of making the 10-hour roundtrip to pickup our car, fork over $600 for the repair, return the rental, and drive back home – all in one day.

Didn’t I say I LOVE traveling with Steve – this will be FUN :).

Trash Talkin'

Summer has arrived like a lion the past 10 days. For weeks we were hovering around a perpetual high of 75F, our heater still kicking in at night, and then suddenly temperatures shot up into the 90s in no time. Just a few days ago I was running after a long 4-hour ride and nearly got sick when finishing – the demands in serious heat are a shock to the body until full acclimation occurs which is about 2 weeks.

This weekend was no different except that we were greeted with temps already in the low 80s in the morning. Steve and I ran together very early Sunday, and we used every bit of the Gatorade in our Fuel Belt bottles.

Today ends the last week I am in the Build Phase for an “A-Race” this season, which is Ironman Kansas 70.3, one week from today on June 15th, Father’s Day no less. I’m not sure if Steve will consider it a favor to watch his wife brave the open water for 1.2 miles, ride her super-fast steed for 56, and then trot 13.1 miles to an intended Personal Record, though he certainly seems up for it. Lately I’ve been showered with the Shaking Head, the Sly Grin, the Mm-mm-mm-MMM!, and the abundant (but never old) “Man, you look HOT!” Growing up, I never heard these kinds of complements. It is no exaggeration to say I was a real Ugly Duckling in my gawky adolescence, and while the self-image issues have gone by the wayside, the warm and never-gratuitous accolades from my wonderful husband are deeply appreciated and always refreshing to hear.

I have strong results from previous races this season and expect to do well this coming Sunday. I’ve risen at dawn and alternately frozen and sweated the miles, and swam til I couldn’t lift a cup of coffee. This year I’m making friends with The Line that exists between pushing as hard as you can and blowing up on the race course. My coach has told me it takes experience to manage The Line and this year I am determined to master it, to find out what I am really made of.

All noble efforts and intentions, aren’t they? Well, this past weekend I got a great reminder of some of the less noble things I’m made of…

The “circuit” around my neighborhood makes a perfect time trial loop for biking, and also simulates Sunday’s race course with its rolling hills and some longer climbs. I was riding 5-minute intervals and in the process of completing 5 of these little monsters. Two roads merge together at the very end of the “course”….I could see the truck coming from one direction with me coming from the other, both of us headed to merge onto the same road, like the top two lines of the letter Y coming down into the single base line.

Something’s gotta give and sure enough his road has a Yield sign to allow traffic from my road to go first. I could already tell from his momentum that he didn’t see the sign and wasn’t planning on stopping. We merged at the same time onto the combined road, and while the speed is only 20mph and I was watching him with an eagle eye, he never saw me.

I coasted along, hugging the side of the road, and waited for him to fully come alongside me so I could look over right at him and make eye contact. HE WAS ON HIS PHONE….and the expletives began streaming from my mouth…

“Did ya see the YIELD SIGN there A--Hole??!!!”

And even better…

“Get off your F-CKING PHONE!!!”

He never did see me and needless to say I was fuming. I was more angry at his disregard for the safety of others, but I was also (even just a tiny bit) angry at being “violated”. I go to great lengths to practice safety and courtesy on the road when riding. I wear a “Third Eye” – a rear-view mirror that clips onto my sunglasses so I can see cars coming behind me. I use proper hand/arm gestures to indicate an upcoming turn with plenty of notice, and I even wave at the car as a thank you as I complete a turn.

It’s not that I expect reciprocal behavior from everyone. But drivers who do not pay attention will end up hitting someone sooner or later, even a cyclist who perfectly obeys traffic signs and uses unambiguous body language in their riding.

Truth be told, it was the disposition of my heart Saturday that hurt the most. The driver never saw me but the Hispanic guys laying sod at a house across the street did, and they simply stared. I was a terrible example of how to handle anger, even if perfectly justified.

In no way does Christianity claim that once you have “been saved” you stop sinning. (Anyone who promotes this belief needs to read their Bible again). The truth is there is plenty in the Bible to support the opposite – the war between what you want to do, which is please God, and what your mind/body does in its weaker moments is at full tilt – you are now more than ever on the devil’s radar and he will use whatever means to get you to turn away from God.

Saturday I could’ve chosen other ways to handle my anger. Mind you, anger itself is not a sin; it’s what we do with it that goes over the line of God’s standard of right and wrong. I felt deeply remorseful for my outburst and asked for God’s help in dealing with my weakness. Just earlier in the day, my darling husband had used beautiful words to complement and build up his wife; isn’t it amazing how quickly words can be used also as a sword to tear people apart. Sadly I have been lacking in the former and have excelled in the latter.

Saturday was a reminder also that if I wanted God to “be fair” or just with me, I would be forever lost.

I don’t want His justice; what I need is God’s unmerited favor – His amazing grace, and that realization will keep me humble in His presence and longing to extend that same grace to others who may not deserve it.

A Fast Four

There was no way around it. This is what I would call the proverbial “rubber meets the road.” My husband is a gifted project manager and his talents have been put to use by our church leadership. There is now an additional time commitment on our calendars, the most significant of which is our needed presence during the setup and teardown of different ministries during each weekend service. We were both asked to take on this responsibility and we gladly accepted. As I wrote in our previous post, as much as I love triathlon, our long term vision is well beyond the years we spend here in this lifetime, and investing in people as part of a life centered around God is our deepest heart’s passion….though I do have secret hopes that there is something like triathlon in heaven, maybe running through the mountains of Alaska where the bears actually run alongside you, you know – like dogs, with no thought given to you being their next tasty morsel???

So this past Sunday I had a long brick (bike then run) on my schedule as part of my preparation for Ironman Kansas which is June 15th. The only way to get ‘er done was in the afternoon after church. Even a rough time estimate showed it was going to be a long day.

But I had worked it out in my head and on paper. It was a 4-hour ride followed by a 45-minute tempo run, so I had the bike route planned out where Steve would drop me off at my Start and then meet me in Alton, IL where I could ditch the bike and go finish my run. We decided it was best to just pack everything – bike, drinks, food, clothing, shoes – into the car and just leave from church.

It went perfectly. I ate a peanut butter sandwich and some veggies after service, downed some Gatorade and we were off.

Driving there I noticed the temperature was 87F. Getting out in the parking lot, it felt every bit of it. On the one hand, great! This could be race-day conditions in a few weeks, and I still needed to acclimate to the heat.

On the other hand, gahhh!! More sunscreen, 4 water bottles, and more money for a stop along the way to replenish fluids…Steve slathered on the 45 SPF where only he could reach well enough - my shoulder blades - not anywhere else, for goodness sakes! This was NOT the Wetsuit Grope-a-Thon :).

I filled my water bottles with undiluted Gatorade, pressed one of the lids down without the nozzle closed, and full-strength sports drink shot right up like a fountain and drenched the side of my face. Normally I would’ve been mad, but instead Steve’s genuine laughter at something right out of The Three Stooges made me laugh too.

I saddled up and took off. The ride was hot but glorious and my legs felt like they could go on forever. I went up through Hardin, IL and came back down south to Alton 15 minutes ahead of schedule. I plowed through nearly 100 oz of Gatorade and forced myself to eat a Clif bar and 3 packs of GU along the way. It was NOT easy to eat. Endurance training in the heat causes much of the blood to leave the intestinal tract and be dedicated to cooling the entire body, the effect of which is the hunger mechanism is nearly wiped out and the last thing on your mind is eating (even for me :)). One must teach the body to take in solid food even when the desire to eat is nonexistent.

When Steve got to the parking lot, I had been waiting for just a few minutes near some caves that through nature provided me free air conditioning. Steve put my bike in the hatch, and I laced up my shoes and Fuel Belt and was off.

The run called for a negative-split, meaning run the second half faster than the first. It was still in the upper 80s and within 5 minutes I was thinking are you insane? The heat was brutal and I trotted along carefully, amazingly staying in the lower heart rate zones. It was my mind that was doing the negotiating with the muscles…c’mon just 5 more minutes and then you can turn around and go HOME…

After 23:30 I turned around and kicked it up a notch?? Yep, sure did…I wanted to be DONE very badly. Visions of lean meat and whole wheat pasta, followed by lots of dark chocolate, danced in my head. By now we were approaching 7pm, the latest I had trained in a long time.

When I got back to the car and walked around for a minute, rivers of sweat were pouring from me. I had consumed 20oz water/sports drink in less than 45 minutes and a wave of nausea hit me for a few seconds. I bent over and waited for it to pass, knowing it was due to a lack of heat acclimation.

After stretching a bit, I looked at my arms/legs and could not believe the magnificent rash I had developed over the course of the day. Sweat, salt, and sunscreen just didn’t play nice on my skin and I headed to the park bathroom to wash it off and put on dry clothes.

I also discovered before my run that I had a small indentation on the top of my forehead from my bike helmet, probably from the padding sticking to my sweaty head. I’ll need to look at the positioning of my helmet – who wants race pictures with a helmet print on their head?? :)

Overall I was very happy. Sunday’s route was one I’ve ridden in years past and this is the first year I am actually fast. Riding near the river and farmlands caused me to collide with a fair number of gnats, some of them sticking to my arms liked miniature roadkill :).

The way I looked at it -- I was so “fast” Sunday, even the bugs couldn’t get out of my way :).