It's not "Just another bib"

           If you are a triathlete or runner, chances are you like to decorate your walls with race bibs, hang medals wherever possible, and place your trophies in plain view. Endurance sport becomes such a big par of your life that you must have race memorabilia close at all times. Because, obviously, your non-running friends never get tired of you talking about your races. No one needs reminding that you are a multisport athlete, but the bibs, medals, and trophies are a part of you that you can hang on the wall or place on your mantle.
              I recently moved across town, which meant that I had to pack up my life into boxes, only to unpack them in a new location a mile down the road. As I re-created my room in my new apartment, it took me twice as long as it should have. I was too busy reminiscing. I hung my race bibs on the wall behind my desk, re-counting each race in my head as I placed them up one-by-one. I remembered the firsts: my first triathlon, Trigator race, Olympic distance race, half marathon, and marathon. I grinned as I hung those from my PR races, and grimaced as I thought about those that didn't go as well. But what about all the others? Were they "just another race"? Of course not.
           I realized that every race had a story. Some were more mundane than others, but they had a story nonetheless. My first Great Clermont bib reminded me of how sick I was, how I wanted to quit after the first lap of the swim, and how I finished the race anyway. My Mitchell invitational bib reminded me of the moment that I realized that I loved cross country. I didn't even run that well, but my runner's high had me beaming all the way home. My Mountain  Dew bib brings me feelings of disappointment, but now I realize that it was a springboard to some of the best running of my life. It also reminds me of how loved I felt that day, with the support of my old cross country team and new friends. My Suncoast Triathlon bib makes me pack a safety pin for my timing chip (the one from that day is sitting at the bottom of the Gulf). The Wildman bib from last year almost makes my feet go numb (it was 65 degrees at the start). Every race is special in some way.
          To me, race bibs are a tangible part of the race that I can keep with me. Sure, I have the ingrained memories of burning legs, debilitating cramps, trials and tribulations. But my bib is my proof. My bib is like a snapshot of myself on the day of the race. I was a very different athlete when I earned my states bib than when I earned my Women's Half Marathon bib. Maybe I'm just a pack rat, but I love keeping my bibs. I have visions of myself at 80 years old, going through my old and yellowing bibs with my grandchildren saying things like "I got this one when I ran my 20th Gasparilla Half Marathon at age 40". I guess only the time (and bibs) will tell.
    
       

Olympic Proportions

                 If you are anything like me, you've been captivated by the Olympic games over the past two weeks. I haven't  changed the channel on my TV from NBC since the games began. The games inspire me (and countless others, as the gym has been a bit more crowded recently) for many reasons, and I'd like to share some of my love for the best sporting event in the world.

     First off, the bodies. No, not exclusively from an attractiveness standpoint, but rather just the incredible level of proficiency that Olympic athletes have woven into their chiseled into their muscles. From the crazy amount of body control displayed in gymnastics to the power associated with running a 100 m dash in less than 10 seconds, these people are truly extraordinary. As an anatomy and physiology nerd, I get probably too much enjoyment from thinking about how beautiful the orchestra of muscle firing in these athletes is. I could sit there and just watch muscle contractions all night long.

    The Olympics is the biggest stage of sport. These athletes train four long years just to see what it feels like to have a medal around their neck. I love the emotion that pours from their faces when they realize that they have just won a gold medal. You can just tell from the mile-wide smile and streaming tears that they are feeling elation beyond just winning any other game, race, or match. It must be an emotion unlike any other. I can't imagine training four years for that moment. That would be like me training for one race since I was 16. Crazy.

     I LOVE the nationalism. They are all competing for their country, not for money. They are in London to represent themselves and their country in the highest esteem possible. It must be really awesome to drape the American flag around your shoulders, sing the national anthem from a podium, and wear a jersey with USA emblazoned on your chest. You can tell that these athletes don't lose sight of what they are competing for. Of course they are motivated to some extent by individual glory, but at the end of the day, they are there to represent our country; and that's cooler than any professional/college sports team.

   There were some really cool stories, too. Oscar Pistorius and his prosthetic limbs (I love his quote--"You are not disabled by the disabilities you have, you are able by the abilities you have."), Misty and Kerri's last medal together, Usain Bolt and the always fun Jamaican sprinters, the list just goes on and on.

It's hard not to get motivated by seeing so many dedicated people perform their best (heck, even 90% of the commercials were made you want to go out and run some 400's). It's also hard to hide your American pride. USA! USA! USA!

You'd still run

Pictures with quotes are all the rage these days. Some of them inspirational, but most of them are just plain hilarious. I'm a sucker for a good e-card, like this one:

I know it's a bit brash, but the grittiness of it pumps me up. You could treat every day as training for life, just as you think of every workout as preparation for an event. The key is, though, to realize that you are living life while training for it, so it's important to enjoy yourself along the way. The same theme should carry over into race training. Working out should be something that challenges you and leaves you stronger, not something that steamrolls you and leaves flattened on the asphalt.

But I kind of like that feeling. So I pondered this, as I saw this picture the other day:

Why do I run? Why do I force myself out the door while I waddle in pain from a workout the day before? Why do I overtrain? In search of an answer, I wrote one of these myself:

Even if there were no records to break
or medals to win,
and my body always looked strong
and I aced every exam
and no endorphins were ever released into my blood
and the first thing that I did every morning was smile
and I found love stronger than I ever thought possible
and I would never slow down
and I was always the person that I wanted to be,
saw everything that I wanted to see,
had no fear or reason to flee,
and always had fun.
I'd still run.

The only thing I can gather is that I like to do extraordinary things. I will sacrifice a lot of suffering now for a moment in the sun later. When I feel like my life becomes too ordinary, I decide to do something crazy, like register for a marathon or half ironman. Or get a tattoo. Or to go to med school. I like being able to say that some days I swim further than some people walk, bike further than some have driven, and run for longer than it takes for someone to watch a TV show.

Although I'm very goal-driven, there is definitely something else that causes me to do what I do. It's much deeper than PR's or the satisfaction of proficiency. I like crazy things. I'm drawn to things that most people are smart enough to avoid. It's kind of like a prolonged adrenaline rush, like free-falling for weeks at a time.

Which leads me to one of my favorite quotes: "When you want to quit, remember why you started"
Make sure you never forget that reason.

Work in progress

     Even when things are going great, we all are a work in progress. There's always something that could be better, should be better, or could be changed. This is something I try to keep in the back of my mind, especially to avoid complacency in training and school. But now, it has to be the driver behind everything I do: I'm more than a work in progress. I'm a pile of blocks, waiting to be assembled.

          I'm in my second week of running since feeling no pain in my ankle, and there has been this trajectory in my attitude towards this favorite form of exercise of mine. During the first run, you couldn't wipe the smile from my face; I felt light on my feet and fast, mostly because it is the fastest I have move with my own two feet in a while. The second run was a repeat of the first, but I noticed I was breathing heavier and shuffling more. Now during every run I watch the trees pass slowly and the concrete barely move from beneath my feet. Uh-Oh. It's the "Oh crap, I'm out of shape, and running is so much harder than I remember" stage. For example, during my first track workout, I ran a 1:33 400. But it felt like I had just sprinted to a photo finish against Sanya Richards. It gave me a new appreciation for what I used to be able to do.

     Friday I did my first 6 miler in a long time. It was the same route that I ran practically every non-track morning in my marathon buildup last fall. It was that run that knocked some sense into me. I have to enjoy the process of getting back to that level, not just wanting it all to come at once. Building back up could be fun, right? I can watch myself get stronger with every mile, take time off of my tempo pace 15 seconds at a time, add another 400. Something is actually enticing about taking it slow. A 3 mile run is an actual workout? Who would have thought? I know where my fitness is now, but there's no telling where it will be in 3 months. Maybe I'll be even faster than before.

     In a non-running related note, thinking that you won't get any better at something isn't worth the brain cells. As frustrating as new things are, it's really a waste to sulk about mediocrity. Keeping that hope that things will fall into place is motivating; it gets you out there even when it's the last thing you want to do. Frustration has to be the most useless emotion on the earth.

Sidenote: Since I have been injured, I have been lifting a lot; and I do believe that I have fallen in love with deadlifting. I noticed on my bike ride yesterday that my back didn't hurt near as much as it usually does. So if you experience back pain while riding, try strengthening your erector spinae. Deadlifting is great, but back extensions and supermans should do the trick also. I didn't realize how weak my back was until I gave deadlifting a try.

A Post About Life

        I usually don't like using this blog as a diary, but I think I have learned a lesson recently that some people may be able to learn too. For most of my life I have wished that I was something else, or more like somebody else. I have wished that I was a better soccer player, and that I could have played on my high school team. I've longed to be funnier, prettier, smarter, nicer, etc., than I am. I've dreamed of super quick race times, being 4 inches taller, and of straight A's in college. But none of that time that I spent wishing was ever worth it. Realizing that you already are the best person you can be is empowering, and any reason you can find to believe in yourself is a good one.

   Envy is part of life, and of course is normal. Humans have been comparing themselves to one another since the loin cloth was in fashion. But instead of spending time comparing yourself to others, spend time improving yourself. You have talents that you don't yet know that you have, and just because you haven't done something before doesn't mean that it's impossible. Just because something could be better doesn't mean that it was all that bad in the first place.

      This reminds me of a quote (and you know how much I love quotes):  "You must love yourself before you can love anybody else." That's so true, right? How can you be someone else's world while you are still unsure of your own? As weird as it sounds, we learn to love in life from 3 people: our parents and ourselves. My dad has always told me that I have to love myself, and it's probably the best advice he will ever give me. I'm not sure why it's taken me so long to finally understand it.

   Keeping the focus on doing things in life is infinitely better than dreaming about things that you want to do. Today is always the day, tomorrow is for the lazy and yesterday is already gone. Life is yours for the taking; live it as though you were born with everything you will ever need. Because more than likely, you have. Don't spend your life wishing that you had this or that. Spend it knowing that you have what it takes to get this and that.

It's about what you DON'T eat, not what you DO eat.

 Yes, this is a blog about nutrition. When you conclude in reading it, please don't  knock down my door, leave notes on my car, or give me the silent treatment. This is such a touchy topic that I have restrained from sharing my view for a while. I will make my best effort to build a bridge over the nutrition disparity rather than add water under it. So, without further ado, here it is, in a nutshell: nutrition is more about what you don't put into your mouth than what you put in it.

       I work at Publix, and as creepy as this sounds, you can tell a lot about a person by what they put into their shopping carts. I see people from all ends of the food spectrum: all organic to all Little Debbie. I can tell when people are trying to maintain or lose weight, and there is a spectrum there as well in regards to what kinds of foods that I pull across my scanner. One side is full of 100 calorie packs, rice cakes, Snack Wells, and diet soda; the other overloaded with vegetables, beans, chicken breast, and fresh fruit. Let's play a game: which cart has more calories? Which cart is better?

     So the answer to the above question is quite obvious, but it helps me prove my point. When people diet, they are often too caught up on calories and not caught up enough on nutrients. Although both carts likely have similar caloric values, the one with the vegetables has a whole lot more bang for the buck, so to speak. The proportion of people who don't eat fruit or vegetables is quite alarming. A diet without fruits and vegetables is like a building that is missing one of its pillars. These foods have a lot of vitamins, minerals, fiber, and other compounds that simply cannot be matched by even the most fortified of foods. A diet that includes lean protein and whole grains is not complete without a large dose of vegetables and adequate fruit intake.

   A long the same lines, a diet that is adequate in plant foods is not wrecked by a daily indulgence. Sure, sugar and saturated fat causes problems (to say it succinctly) but the consequences of a not-so-perfect diet are nowhere near those of omitting the vital food groups. Besides, if you focus on eating your daily quota of fruits, vegetables, and whole grains you won't have room for too much more (unless you happen to be a competitive eater, which I don't recommend)

     However, nutrition varies so much over a continuum that it's difficult to follow concrete rules. Our bodies process food so differently, and our needs are a product of our daily activities. For athletes, nutrition varies by training cycle and even day to day. Macronutrient needs (daily ratios of carbs, fat, and protein) are a hotly debated topic, but the only idea in this area that I believe is that the ratio should be determined by body type, and then later tweaked for the individual. Those on the heavier side should start with a higher protein and lower carbohydrate ratio, and individuals with low body fat should aim for slightly higher carb diets. I really don't want to go into extreme detail over this, but I think it should be out there that I believe that this is a good starting point.

   Lastly, the common theme that should run through any diet is whole foods. Stay away from processed foods as often as possible, and buy organic if you eat a certain food frequently. An easy way to do this is to "shop the perimeter" of the store, except when you are grabbing those frozen vegetables from the freezer section. If you do buy products with labels, be sure to read it; and be sure to understand the ingredients before you toss it into your cart. Organic Oreos are not better than regular Oreos. (sorry, I wish it were true also) I liken eating food additives to trying to trying to funnel a thick liquid. Additives can get stuck to the sides, but whole foods are like water that can just slip right through without consequence.

Eat your veggies. Drink water. Whole foods only. Get moving. That's all there is to it! Criticism is welcome, but I hope that this is perceived as a neutral opinion, not one that will start a war.

     

St Anthony's Triathlon Report

Let me start out by saying that St. Anthony's is my favorite race. It is a mere 45  minute drive from where I live, and it is one of the most beautiful courses I have ever raced on. There is a lot of pros and a lot of hype; 29 waves of athletes from all walks of life. Everything is super organized and well-run, it almost makes me feel like a pro too.

        I arrived into transition knowing that I had still 2.5 hours until my race would start. Setting up transition has become routine, no longer something to stress over. I made my way down to the swim start and admired the amber colored sky. It was a beautiful day to race, albeit warm and humid (goodbye, spring!). I relaxed and talked to my biggest fan (my mom) for a while as the announcer set off hundreds of athletes into the Gulf. When there was 45 minutes til my start, I jogged around to loosen up. It just so happened that the pro women were on the run course, which snaked behind the beach of the swim start. I stopped to watch their impeccable and seemingly effortless form. They would definitely be finished with their race before I even started. Wonderful.

    I then jumped into the water to set my stroke before it was race time. The water was a chilly-feeling 77 degrees and quite salty. I had been spoiled with 3 freshwater swims in my previous races this spring. Finally, I heard the announcer call purple caps into the corral and then out into the water. The swim start began with all of us treading water for what felt like forever. The current began to pull us away from the start buoy, and everyone was babbling about how they need to just start the race already. I turned to the girl next to me and said "Sorry, there just isn't a polite way to tread water.". We were elbowing and kicking each other before the race even started. Then the horn went off, and I had one of my best swim starts yet. I felt confident and could tell that I was in the upper third of the pack. But then we made a big turn out into the Gulf, and the water got really rough (the swim is always rough at St. A's, and they were trying a new course this year). My body rose and fell with the waves, and I began to swallow large amounts of salt water. I really messed up once I got to the yellow turn buoy. Every time I sighted, I was further and further from the directional buoys that led to shore. I began to get frustrated, and I felt like I was punching water rather than swimming in it. I was angry when I emerged up the stairs and into transition; that swim felt like it took years to complete. Definitely not my best swim. And to put whipped cream on my sundae, I lost my bike in transition. It took me 1:47 to get out on the roads of St. Pete.

         With my adrenaline pumping hard, I took off on my bike with the intent of getting the time back that I lost on the swim. I knew I was going fast by the feel of the wind on my face. The course was crowded with all of the waves that went off before mine, and it boosted my ego that I was passing so many people. (I blame my drafting penalty on this) I passed All Children's Hospital and blew it a kiss. If only they all could see me now. My legs welcomed the flat course, and it was much easier to maintain my effort than at Clermont or Nationals. I zoomed into transition with a time of 1:11:48. BOOM!

        I found my transition area slightly faster this time, and put on my awesome new racing shoes with glee. I pranced off on the run, my legs feeling great so far. As I left transition, I heard my mom's voice as it was trailing off "Go Kacy! BE CAREFUL!" I had been dealing with the same tendonitis that haunted me after the marathon, and I wasn't sure that I would be able to finish the run without limping to the finish line. I hadn't even thought about it until my mom reminded me. I directed my attention for a quick second to my ankle: no pain. Alright, it's go time! The run was hot, as expected. My effort level was higher than Nationals, but as far as I could tell I was still holding a good pace. The spectator support was remarkable; there was seldom a spot where there wasn't anyone cheering you on. I began to sing Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer" in my head, because it was the last song I heard on the drive over. Songs always motivate me, but I have also found that focusing on my body and effort level has been a key to keeping pace on the run and bike. I collected beads from some fans around mile 5, and slung them around my neck. As I came running through the finishing shoot, some girl pulled up onto my shoulder. I sprinted away from her, and never looked back. I felt like Usain Bolt as I crossed the finish line in full stride. I didn't know it at the time, but I finished with a PR of 2:28:53.

    Because of the (assumed) drafting penalty, my official time is 2:30:53...but I don't care. Breaking 2:30 was been a goal that I've had for a while, and I finally did it. It was even more satisfying, because I was starting to feel like it wouldn't be possible. The cool thing with triathlon is that there are so many ways to lower your time...and always room for improvement. Perfect races are rare, but I can't wait till the day that I have one. Oh, and I know that I will.

       This race has certainly raised my perceived ceiling. I know I can get faster. But not right now. I need to take some time to reset my body and try and avoid injury. Here is my quote for the next few weeks:

"I've never been patient, but I've always been determined. This time I'm determined to be patient."