Johann's new favorite game is Knockyadown. When Ariel or I are sitting on the floor, he will come up and say "Knockyadown" (as one word) and then try to push you down backwards. Since he's not strong enough to actually knock us down, it is a controlled descent and he rides all the way down.
Then, if he wants to do it again, Johann will say, "helpen" and try to help you up. You get up only to hear "Knockyadown" again.
"Helpen" is also one of his new favorite words. He uses it to mean "I need help" and so say "I am helping".
mwz
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Good TV
The other day, the kids and I were watching some kids program that we had recorded on the DVR. For the most part they were playing and I was watching. That happens sometimes.
When it finished, I just left it on the channel that the TV was on, which happened to be the Food network and went to talk to Arial in the kitchen.
I came back after a couple minutes and both Frances and Johann were sitting on the couch just watching TV. It's pretty unusual for them both to eschew playing at the same time to watch something. That peeked my curiosity so I went in to see what they were watching (plus they looked pretty cute sitting next to each other on the couch).
It was Good Eats. They were captivated by Good Eats. It's a good show and all but I didn't think that it would attract 1 and 3 year-olds.
I found that amusing.
When it finished, I just left it on the channel that the TV was on, which happened to be the Food network and went to talk to Arial in the kitchen.
I came back after a couple minutes and both Frances and Johann were sitting on the couch just watching TV. It's pretty unusual for them both to eschew playing at the same time to watch something. That peeked my curiosity so I went in to see what they were watching (plus they looked pretty cute sitting next to each other on the couch).
It was Good Eats. They were captivated by Good Eats. It's a good show and all but I didn't think that it would attract 1 and 3 year-olds.
I found that amusing.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Arial's First Triathlon
This post has been on my plate for a long time. Which is a shame because I am very proud of the subject matter.
A couple weeks ago, Arial completed her first triathlon. It was a sprint and she finished it... well, I'm not going to say "easily" since it wasn't an easy task but she did it without depleting all of her energy.
I'm not going to give a race report (for one, I didn't do the racing), so this is going to be from my perspective.
Arial doesn't have a wet suit. The tri was late in the season, so we knew the water would be cold. I asked her repeatedly if she wanted to get one but she refused. When she started swimming, I could watch her for awhile. It looked to me like she was stuck behind some people. Her head was up out of the water like she was looking for a way around.
After the race, she told me that I didn't understand what I was seeing. The water was so cold that she forgot how to swim. I think she still did a faster swim that I did even though I wasn't fighting hypothermia.
It turns out that it is harder to be in charge of the kids than one might think. In a strange place, you really have to work not to lose track of them.
We cheered Arial on as she came out of the water. I had forgotten the signs we had made for her and didn't have the camera but we made due. It was my first tri as a spectator, hopefully I'll get better at it.
We played in the beach sand during the swim and most of the bike. The sand time was the easiest for me. The kids pretty much entertain themselves when sand is involved.
When we left the sand and went to where the bikes came in, I had to keep a closer eye on them. Without anything immediately interesting, they kept trying to wander off. They both tried keeping their balance on those cement parking things.
Frances tried to play with another group of girls but they all knew each other and so they just ignored her. She was pretty bummed about that. It was hard to get her to cheer when Arial arrived on her bike. But I sent her running with Arial (with a fence in between) as she walked her bike in transition and that seemed to cheer her up.
During the run, we played at a play ground. There were a lot of kids there making it a little stressful. About this time I started being thankful that it was a sprint and not an Olympic because this would take less time.
There was an kind of merry-go-round at the playground that a lot of kids were playing on. The other kids were really good about making sure the younger ones were safely on. Both Frances and Johann road on it but Frances stayed on a lot longer. It may have made up for the snubbing she had received earlier.
Around the time that I figured that Arial would be finishing her run, we walked up the race course a little ways. Not to long after that, Arial came running. She looked good, not dragging or anything. We cheered and she ran faster than I could while I carried the kids. She beat us to the finish line by quite a ways.
We hung around for a little, while Arial got food and drink (no first aid tent needed for her). And then we went out to eat.
I am very proud of Arial for finishing the tri. Now both of us are triathletes.
mwz
A couple weeks ago, Arial completed her first triathlon. It was a sprint and she finished it... well, I'm not going to say "easily" since it wasn't an easy task but she did it without depleting all of her energy.
I'm not going to give a race report (for one, I didn't do the racing), so this is going to be from my perspective.
Arial doesn't have a wet suit. The tri was late in the season, so we knew the water would be cold. I asked her repeatedly if she wanted to get one but she refused. When she started swimming, I could watch her for awhile. It looked to me like she was stuck behind some people. Her head was up out of the water like she was looking for a way around.
After the race, she told me that I didn't understand what I was seeing. The water was so cold that she forgot how to swim. I think she still did a faster swim that I did even though I wasn't fighting hypothermia.
It turns out that it is harder to be in charge of the kids than one might think. In a strange place, you really have to work not to lose track of them.
We cheered Arial on as she came out of the water. I had forgotten the signs we had made for her and didn't have the camera but we made due. It was my first tri as a spectator, hopefully I'll get better at it.
We played in the beach sand during the swim and most of the bike. The sand time was the easiest for me. The kids pretty much entertain themselves when sand is involved.
When we left the sand and went to where the bikes came in, I had to keep a closer eye on them. Without anything immediately interesting, they kept trying to wander off. They both tried keeping their balance on those cement parking things.
Frances tried to play with another group of girls but they all knew each other and so they just ignored her. She was pretty bummed about that. It was hard to get her to cheer when Arial arrived on her bike. But I sent her running with Arial (with a fence in between) as she walked her bike in transition and that seemed to cheer her up.
During the run, we played at a play ground. There were a lot of kids there making it a little stressful. About this time I started being thankful that it was a sprint and not an Olympic because this would take less time.
There was an kind of merry-go-round at the playground that a lot of kids were playing on. The other kids were really good about making sure the younger ones were safely on. Both Frances and Johann road on it but Frances stayed on a lot longer. It may have made up for the snubbing she had received earlier.
Around the time that I figured that Arial would be finishing her run, we walked up the race course a little ways. Not to long after that, Arial came running. She looked good, not dragging or anything. We cheered and she ran faster than I could while I carried the kids. She beat us to the finish line by quite a ways.
We hung around for a little, while Arial got food and drink (no first aid tent needed for her). And then we went out to eat.
I am very proud of Arial for finishing the tri. Now both of us are triathletes.
mwz
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
First Olympic Triathlon: Post 8 Lessons and Repercussions
So, the biggest thing I learned from doing this Olympic tri was that my hydration and nutrition plan was lacking. I had thought that I could just take my schedule from the sprint tri and double it. That was not the case.
While the distances were pretty much double that of the sprint distance, I didn't take into account that at the sprint I was able to dip into my reserves. I was quite thirsty and hungry at the end. The water I drank and the gel I ate were obviously enough to sustain me (well obvious now after some thought).
At the Olympic, I had just two bottles of water and two gels (and then the water and Gatorade on the run course). I'm pretty sure that an extra bottle of water and an extra gel may have made the difference. The next time I do this, I'm certainly going to add more than that to the plan.
For one, I'm going to try to have a better breakfast. The medics seemed to think that a couple bagels was not nearly enough. They were probably right. Bringing a gel along with me on the run probably wouldn't have hurt either.
Unfortunately, the other big thing I learned was that I have a breaking point. I've always known that there was a point where I couldn't continue but this was the first time that I actually hit it. Part of me believed that I could just push through the pain and keep going, that if I could handle being increasingly uncomfortable, I could finish any race.
But now I've seen the breaking point and I know it's there. I'm worried that I'm hurt psychologically.
Now that I'm slowly getting back to exercising, I've been to a couple spin classes. What I've noticed is that when I get going and I start to get a little uncomfortable, my head goes back to when I was stuck a mile out from the finish. The discomfort seems like it is going to last too far into the future to handle and I begin to wonder if I can continue much more. It's almost like the breaking point has been artificially shortened in my head.
I have a 10 mile race coming up. I'm hoping to use that to prove to myself again that I can accomplish things past my comfort zone without quitting.
I just hope that I'm not broken.
mwz
While the distances were pretty much double that of the sprint distance, I didn't take into account that at the sprint I was able to dip into my reserves. I was quite thirsty and hungry at the end. The water I drank and the gel I ate were obviously enough to sustain me (well obvious now after some thought).
At the Olympic, I had just two bottles of water and two gels (and then the water and Gatorade on the run course). I'm pretty sure that an extra bottle of water and an extra gel may have made the difference. The next time I do this, I'm certainly going to add more than that to the plan.
For one, I'm going to try to have a better breakfast. The medics seemed to think that a couple bagels was not nearly enough. They were probably right. Bringing a gel along with me on the run probably wouldn't have hurt either.
Unfortunately, the other big thing I learned was that I have a breaking point. I've always known that there was a point where I couldn't continue but this was the first time that I actually hit it. Part of me believed that I could just push through the pain and keep going, that if I could handle being increasingly uncomfortable, I could finish any race.
But now I've seen the breaking point and I know it's there. I'm worried that I'm hurt psychologically.
Now that I'm slowly getting back to exercising, I've been to a couple spin classes. What I've noticed is that when I get going and I start to get a little uncomfortable, my head goes back to when I was stuck a mile out from the finish. The discomfort seems like it is going to last too far into the future to handle and I begin to wonder if I can continue much more. It's almost like the breaking point has been artificially shortened in my head.
I have a 10 mile race coming up. I'm hoping to use that to prove to myself again that I can accomplish things past my comfort zone without quitting.
I just hope that I'm not broken.
mwz
Sunday, September 23, 2007
First Olympic Triathlon: Post 7 Recovery
After finishing the tri, I was helped over to the first aid tent (which wasn't really near the finish line at all, much to my dismay).
I sat down on the edge of a cot while the aid lady put ice packs on my chest and back. I suppose the packs were to cool my core body temperature but they didn't really feel that good. They didn't feel bad either, just kinda neutral.
She asked how I felt and if I felt nauseous. I told her all my miseries and that at points during the race I felt like I was going to throw up. She told me that a lady had already thrown up. I think she was trying to make me feel better and it did help a little to know that some other person was suffered from the same race that I was suffering from.
The aid lady then declared that she could see sweat beads forming on my forehead which was a good sign. I wasn't really sure I believed her but I wasn't going to argue.
Arial, the kids and Mrk and Mg came over next to me. They brought a Gatorade and water as well as bananas and grapes. That was really good. I ate and drank as quickly as I thought I could without throwing up.
The kids shared in the refreshments. It was nice that they were there and being chipper. They helped keep my mood up (or at least kept me trying to look like I was happy and okay, so I wouldn't scare them).
I lay down because I was getting a little light headed again. That didn't really make me feel any better but sitting up again made me feel worse. My abdomen injury hurt a lot worse laying down. It took me a bit to find a position the didn't put me into agony.
I started shaking. It felt more like muscle spasms in my arms and legs than regular shivers. I asked if it was cold because I was worried that it was some sort of symptom but they said it was a bit chilly. The aid lady gave me her sweatshirt to cover myself with (which was nice of her to do even though I was sweaty). That helped but I was still shaking. I eventually asked for more banana because I thought the potassium might help. The shaking did eventually go away, so maybe it did help.
At one point, I heard them announce that the final triathlete was finishing. There was a big cheer. I was glad to know that I wasn't last even walking the last mile.
The aid lady asked if I wanted the paramedics to check me out. I thought that would be a stellar idea. It would be pretty stupid to die from doing a race. At least it would be a lousy thing to do to the kids. I decided that any precaution was a good idea. Plus the aid lady seemed a bit worried.
The medics came and they were so professional that it was a little scary. It made me realize that if I needed rescue workers that I wasn't in very good shape. They took my blood pressure, took my pulse and asked me a bunch of questions.
By the time they were done with the questions, I was starting to feel a little better. I tried to sit up. I was successful and other than a bit of dizziness from sitting up, I was feeling a lot better. I didn't want to mention the dizziness to them since I didn't want to bother the medics anymore.
I told the medics that I was starting to feel better and they asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital. I said "no" and they made me sign a waiver stating that I refused a ride to the hospital. I was very grateful for the help from the medics and since I was a lot feeling better at that point, I just wanted them to be able to go back to whatever they were doing before my crisis.
During that time, Mrk was nice enough to gather my stuff from transition and bring out my bike. That saved me from a big hassle. Not only would have been hard physically for me to do that but I think the transition area was being torn down before I left the tent.
I thanked the medics and the aid lady. Pretty much everyone had left by the time I got up. I was near last off the course and had spent over a half an hour in the aid tent giving people a chance to leave. It made it pretty easy to find our car though.
We walked to the cars and then all went to subway where I ate more than I thought I was going to and it was good.
The rest of the weekend, I had quite a bit of pain from my abdomen injury. Strangely, my muscles weren't that sore but I hobbled about in pain anyway. But now I'm mostly okay (although I'm still trying to shield my abdomen from more damage).
mwz
I sat down on the edge of a cot while the aid lady put ice packs on my chest and back. I suppose the packs were to cool my core body temperature but they didn't really feel that good. They didn't feel bad either, just kinda neutral.
She asked how I felt and if I felt nauseous. I told her all my miseries and that at points during the race I felt like I was going to throw up. She told me that a lady had already thrown up. I think she was trying to make me feel better and it did help a little to know that some other person was suffered from the same race that I was suffering from.
The aid lady then declared that she could see sweat beads forming on my forehead which was a good sign. I wasn't really sure I believed her but I wasn't going to argue.
Arial, the kids and Mrk and Mg came over next to me. They brought a Gatorade and water as well as bananas and grapes. That was really good. I ate and drank as quickly as I thought I could without throwing up.
The kids shared in the refreshments. It was nice that they were there and being chipper. They helped keep my mood up (or at least kept me trying to look like I was happy and okay, so I wouldn't scare them).
I lay down because I was getting a little light headed again. That didn't really make me feel any better but sitting up again made me feel worse. My abdomen injury hurt a lot worse laying down. It took me a bit to find a position the didn't put me into agony.
I started shaking. It felt more like muscle spasms in my arms and legs than regular shivers. I asked if it was cold because I was worried that it was some sort of symptom but they said it was a bit chilly. The aid lady gave me her sweatshirt to cover myself with (which was nice of her to do even though I was sweaty). That helped but I was still shaking. I eventually asked for more banana because I thought the potassium might help. The shaking did eventually go away, so maybe it did help.
At one point, I heard them announce that the final triathlete was finishing. There was a big cheer. I was glad to know that I wasn't last even walking the last mile.
The aid lady asked if I wanted the paramedics to check me out. I thought that would be a stellar idea. It would be pretty stupid to die from doing a race. At least it would be a lousy thing to do to the kids. I decided that any precaution was a good idea. Plus the aid lady seemed a bit worried.
The medics came and they were so professional that it was a little scary. It made me realize that if I needed rescue workers that I wasn't in very good shape. They took my blood pressure, took my pulse and asked me a bunch of questions.
By the time they were done with the questions, I was starting to feel a little better. I tried to sit up. I was successful and other than a bit of dizziness from sitting up, I was feeling a lot better. I didn't want to mention the dizziness to them since I didn't want to bother the medics anymore.
I told the medics that I was starting to feel better and they asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital. I said "no" and they made me sign a waiver stating that I refused a ride to the hospital. I was very grateful for the help from the medics and since I was a lot feeling better at that point, I just wanted them to be able to go back to whatever they were doing before my crisis.
During that time, Mrk was nice enough to gather my stuff from transition and bring out my bike. That saved me from a big hassle. Not only would have been hard physically for me to do that but I think the transition area was being torn down before I left the tent.
I thanked the medics and the aid lady. Pretty much everyone had left by the time I got up. I was near last off the course and had spent over a half an hour in the aid tent giving people a chance to leave. It made it pretty easy to find our car though.
We walked to the cars and then all went to subway where I ate more than I thought I was going to and it was good.
The rest of the weekend, I had quite a bit of pain from my abdomen injury. Strangely, my muscles weren't that sore but I hobbled about in pain anyway. But now I'm mostly okay (although I'm still trying to shield my abdomen from more damage).
mwz
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Tots Soccer
Frances has started soccer.
We've been to one session so far. They do a little "practice" and then scrimmage with one of the three other teams.
Frances is in a 3-4 year old division and I'll admit that at first I was a little intimidated. A good portion of the kids had shin guards on. They looked really serious about it.
The whole thing is just amazingly entertaining. Little kids running around who have basically no idea what they are supposed to be doing.
Things from having to find a partner to kicking the ball back and forth with that partner were completely new concepts to some of these kids (including Frances). It was obvious that one kid only really played "goalie" with his family because it took a while for the coaches to stop him from diving on the ball each time it came to him.
But the real fun came when they started the scrimmage. It was just barely controlled chaos. These kids had never done anything like this.
There were kids joining the opposing teams huddles (after goals). There were kids crying because they weren't allowed to use their hands. There was a ball and a pack of kids all trying to put a foot on it.
There were a couple kids that looked way bigger than the others. They did most of the scoring.
It took Frances a couple minutes to figure out what she was supposed to be doing. But then she was right there in the middle of it. She even scored a goal.
One of the bigger kids dribbled toward the goal from the right but overshot it. In the ensuing melee, Frances got the ball, kicked it a couple times toward the goal and then kicked it in. That was pretty neat.
It was hard not to try and yell directions to Frances. Generally speaking, I'm pretty competetive. Now, I understand all those "crazy" parents who are always yelling to their kids. I had to work hard to keep quiet.
Frances really enjoyed the experience. So did we. It should be fun next week too.
mwz
We've been to one session so far. They do a little "practice" and then scrimmage with one of the three other teams.
Frances is in a 3-4 year old division and I'll admit that at first I was a little intimidated. A good portion of the kids had shin guards on. They looked really serious about it.
The whole thing is just amazingly entertaining. Little kids running around who have basically no idea what they are supposed to be doing.
Things from having to find a partner to kicking the ball back and forth with that partner were completely new concepts to some of these kids (including Frances). It was obvious that one kid only really played "goalie" with his family because it took a while for the coaches to stop him from diving on the ball each time it came to him.
But the real fun came when they started the scrimmage. It was just barely controlled chaos. These kids had never done anything like this.
There were kids joining the opposing teams huddles (after goals). There were kids crying because they weren't allowed to use their hands. There was a ball and a pack of kids all trying to put a foot on it.
There were a couple kids that looked way bigger than the others. They did most of the scoring.
It took Frances a couple minutes to figure out what she was supposed to be doing. But then she was right there in the middle of it. She even scored a goal.
One of the bigger kids dribbled toward the goal from the right but overshot it. In the ensuing melee, Frances got the ball, kicked it a couple times toward the goal and then kicked it in. That was pretty neat.
It was hard not to try and yell directions to Frances. Generally speaking, I'm pretty competetive. Now, I understand all those "crazy" parents who are always yelling to their kids. I had to work hard to keep quiet.
Frances really enjoyed the experience. So did we. It should be fun next week too.
mwz
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
First Olympic Triathlon: Post 6 Failing
Not long after the 2 mile mark, the pain started.
Since high school, I've had a recurring abdomen injury. It might be a tear in some abdomen muscles. Most of the time it is fine (it does heal). But sometimes, when I run hard or do a lot of twisting motions (like a tennis serve), it will re-injure. When that happens it can hurt a lot.
It started to hurt around this point. I was kind of expecting it and I've played tennis through the pain before, so I wasn't that concerned. At this point it was only dull pain anyway. This it turns out was the least of my worries.
The roads were severely arched to let the water run off the sides. That meant that my left foot was always a little bit hirer than my right. That was driving me crazy. I started to get a stitch near my left kidney. That was irritating.
There were also turns where the road actually banked, which just exacerbated the situation. I thought about making a joke to the volunteer at one of these turns about it needing to bank to control my high speed turns but I was too tired.
At the mile 3 water station, I took a little Gatorade. I say little because this station was rationing liquids like the others.
The pain was slowly getting worse. I was still going but I was also going slower. People were passing me pretty regularly now. (I'm normally passed quite a bit so this really wasn't a surprise.)
I tried running on the other side of the road (which is the side you are actually supposed to run on). That helped a little. It made the stitch over my kidney feel a little bit better. But I was hoping for more. It turned out to be annoying when cars would come and then be confused with runners on both sides of the road. I eventually went back to the side most of the runners were on.
It was really starting to get to me that they didn't have mile markers up. The aid stations weren't set up on the mile marks and it seemed like I could just be running forever. It pretty much made it feel like there was no end in site. One lady who passed me even said something like "I wish they marked the miles". So, I wasn't the only one.
One of the guys I had seen when I completed the loop passed me around here. I was a little bit disappointed but I couldn't do anything about it.
By the time I reached the fourth water station, I was feeling pretty bad. They kept saying "just two more to go" and that seemed like forever. I dropped to a walk to drink the water (which I do sometimes). They gave me a little more than half a cup. I felt special.
When I started running again, the pain hit me all at once and I even exclaimed "Ow" (to which one of the volunteers said something inspirational like "you can do it" or "two miles left"). It was one thing for the level of pain to grow slowly but to be thrust back into it like that was not pleasant.
I had tried to memorize the race course map before the event but I was having a lot of trouble remembering what it. There would be curves in the road where I would think we should be going one way (a way that would indicate being near completion) only to see people ahead go the other. It was just hard. The "mile" between the fourth and fifth aid stations felt like it took me an hour.
When I reached the fifth water station, I knew pretty much where I was on the map. I felt somewhat heartened to know that I just had roughly one mile left. Well, I told myself that I should be heartened. My body wasn't convinced.
Having learned my lesson, I asked for two waters. To my surprise, both cups were filled nearly to the brim. I drank most of one and then felt strangely guilty about asking for two, so I tried to drink the other. I didn't come close to finishing it before getting to the trash bin where I threw it away.
I should have kept one cup of water and run with it a ways but at the time, I just automatically through the remaining water away. (It makes me a little thirsty thinking about it.
I kept telling myself, "just a mile to go". But my body understood that to mean "a whole, long, life-sucking mile".
Around a quarter mile (maybe less) after the aid station, I started feeling dizzy and nauseous. I knew that wasn't a good sign. I tried to keep going but then I really started feeling the "I'm about to pass out" feeling. That's when I knew I had to walk.
I still felt horrible but it was better than running. Since I was so close to the end, I tried to run again. After about 10 seconds, I just slowed to the point that I was walking again.
The dizziness and nausea didn't go away right away when I stopped running. I was still breathing in very fast, short breaths. It felt like I was simultaneously not getting enough air and having too much oxygen in my body. Not to mention, that I still wasn't entirely sure that I wouldn't pass out. I wasn't even sure that there was anyone still on the course (I could see for quite a ways and couldn't see anyone).
Eventually, people started appearing behind me. One lady came up to me and tried to get me going again. She said "I'm a slow runner, you can run with me". I tried to tell her that I was also a slow runner but she didn't seem to care. I didn't really think it would be wise for me to push myself anymore but I didn't really want to discuss it with a stranger. So, I tried to run with her but I couldn't keep up for more that 5 paces. As she put distance between us, I dropped back into a walk. It was nice of her to try though.
I could see a bend in the road up ahead. In a way, it was taunting me since I didn't know how much further I would have to go after it. I still felt really terrible, even walking. The lower half of my body was in pain and the top half was contemplating the benefits of throwing up over passing out.
Up near the bend I could see a couple volunteers. I thought that maybe if I leaned on a mail box for long enough, they might see and rescue me. Unfortunately, it looked like they were walking away from me.
I did eventually get closer to them and it turned out that they were taking pictures for the event. They asked me if I wanted my picture taken, I said "sure". I posed for the picture but I stayed at a walk. I didn't figure there was any point in trying to fool the visual record.
I asked them how far I had to go, and they said "just down there" and pointed to a place much farther away than I wanted it to be.
As I passed the photographers, I heard one of them say, "Let's walk back again, until we see another competitor". That explained why they had been going away from me earlier and why I was able to catch them.
I was worried then that they were going to pass me as but they were nice enough to walk slower than I was trudging along.
Not too much later, I saw Mrk coming back for me on his bike. That was a welcome sight. He gave me some Gatorade which I was very thankful for. A part of me worried that I would be DQ'd for receiving outside help but a bigger part of me didn't want to die of dehydration.
I told him that it was going pretty badly and that I wanted to find the first aid tent when I finished. (I don't know what renal failure feels like but I was feeling pretty bad, so I didn't want to risk it.) With less than a block to go and the finish in sight, he zipped off to ask some people where the first aid tent was.
There was an empty lot on the corner before the finish line. Arial and the kids were there. Frances was holding her big "YAY DADDY" sign and yelling "Yay Daddy! Yay Daddy!" over and over again. She looked very happy to see me. She was adorable. I put on as big a smile as I could manage and said something like "Yay Frances". She deserved to see a happy daddy.
It turned out to be a little difficult to find the finish line. There wasn't a big "FINISH" banner or anything. I had to ask where to go. Off on the side of the road, there was a little chute with a timing mat. I just had to go to that.
So, I walked over to the mat (I didn't feel like pretending that I had been running) and touched it.
Immediately, I asked the three volunteers (the only people over by the secluded finish "line") where the first aid tent was. Only one seemed to know. They made me stand there for a second while one of them took off my timing chip (which was fine since I didn't want to get charged for forgetting to take it off). Then one of them helped me over to the first aid tent.
I had completed my first Olympic distance triathlon. At the time, I felt disappointed that I was unable to run the whole last leg.
And you know what. I still do.
mwz
Since high school, I've had a recurring abdomen injury. It might be a tear in some abdomen muscles. Most of the time it is fine (it does heal). But sometimes, when I run hard or do a lot of twisting motions (like a tennis serve), it will re-injure. When that happens it can hurt a lot.
It started to hurt around this point. I was kind of expecting it and I've played tennis through the pain before, so I wasn't that concerned. At this point it was only dull pain anyway. This it turns out was the least of my worries.
The roads were severely arched to let the water run off the sides. That meant that my left foot was always a little bit hirer than my right. That was driving me crazy. I started to get a stitch near my left kidney. That was irritating.
There were also turns where the road actually banked, which just exacerbated the situation. I thought about making a joke to the volunteer at one of these turns about it needing to bank to control my high speed turns but I was too tired.
At the mile 3 water station, I took a little Gatorade. I say little because this station was rationing liquids like the others.
The pain was slowly getting worse. I was still going but I was also going slower. People were passing me pretty regularly now. (I'm normally passed quite a bit so this really wasn't a surprise.)
I tried running on the other side of the road (which is the side you are actually supposed to run on). That helped a little. It made the stitch over my kidney feel a little bit better. But I was hoping for more. It turned out to be annoying when cars would come and then be confused with runners on both sides of the road. I eventually went back to the side most of the runners were on.
It was really starting to get to me that they didn't have mile markers up. The aid stations weren't set up on the mile marks and it seemed like I could just be running forever. It pretty much made it feel like there was no end in site. One lady who passed me even said something like "I wish they marked the miles". So, I wasn't the only one.
One of the guys I had seen when I completed the loop passed me around here. I was a little bit disappointed but I couldn't do anything about it.
By the time I reached the fourth water station, I was feeling pretty bad. They kept saying "just two more to go" and that seemed like forever. I dropped to a walk to drink the water (which I do sometimes). They gave me a little more than half a cup. I felt special.
When I started running again, the pain hit me all at once and I even exclaimed "Ow" (to which one of the volunteers said something inspirational like "you can do it" or "two miles left"). It was one thing for the level of pain to grow slowly but to be thrust back into it like that was not pleasant.
I had tried to memorize the race course map before the event but I was having a lot of trouble remembering what it. There would be curves in the road where I would think we should be going one way (a way that would indicate being near completion) only to see people ahead go the other. It was just hard. The "mile" between the fourth and fifth aid stations felt like it took me an hour.
When I reached the fifth water station, I knew pretty much where I was on the map. I felt somewhat heartened to know that I just had roughly one mile left. Well, I told myself that I should be heartened. My body wasn't convinced.
Having learned my lesson, I asked for two waters. To my surprise, both cups were filled nearly to the brim. I drank most of one and then felt strangely guilty about asking for two, so I tried to drink the other. I didn't come close to finishing it before getting to the trash bin where I threw it away.
I should have kept one cup of water and run with it a ways but at the time, I just automatically through the remaining water away. (It makes me a little thirsty thinking about it.
I kept telling myself, "just a mile to go". But my body understood that to mean "a whole, long, life-sucking mile".
Around a quarter mile (maybe less) after the aid station, I started feeling dizzy and nauseous. I knew that wasn't a good sign. I tried to keep going but then I really started feeling the "I'm about to pass out" feeling. That's when I knew I had to walk.
I still felt horrible but it was better than running. Since I was so close to the end, I tried to run again. After about 10 seconds, I just slowed to the point that I was walking again.
The dizziness and nausea didn't go away right away when I stopped running. I was still breathing in very fast, short breaths. It felt like I was simultaneously not getting enough air and having too much oxygen in my body. Not to mention, that I still wasn't entirely sure that I wouldn't pass out. I wasn't even sure that there was anyone still on the course (I could see for quite a ways and couldn't see anyone).
Eventually, people started appearing behind me. One lady came up to me and tried to get me going again. She said "I'm a slow runner, you can run with me". I tried to tell her that I was also a slow runner but she didn't seem to care. I didn't really think it would be wise for me to push myself anymore but I didn't really want to discuss it with a stranger. So, I tried to run with her but I couldn't keep up for more that 5 paces. As she put distance between us, I dropped back into a walk. It was nice of her to try though.
I could see a bend in the road up ahead. In a way, it was taunting me since I didn't know how much further I would have to go after it. I still felt really terrible, even walking. The lower half of my body was in pain and the top half was contemplating the benefits of throwing up over passing out.
Up near the bend I could see a couple volunteers. I thought that maybe if I leaned on a mail box for long enough, they might see and rescue me. Unfortunately, it looked like they were walking away from me.
I did eventually get closer to them and it turned out that they were taking pictures for the event. They asked me if I wanted my picture taken, I said "sure". I posed for the picture but I stayed at a walk. I didn't figure there was any point in trying to fool the visual record.
I asked them how far I had to go, and they said "just down there" and pointed to a place much farther away than I wanted it to be.
As I passed the photographers, I heard one of them say, "Let's walk back again, until we see another competitor". That explained why they had been going away from me earlier and why I was able to catch them.
I was worried then that they were going to pass me as but they were nice enough to walk slower than I was trudging along.
Not too much later, I saw Mrk coming back for me on his bike. That was a welcome sight. He gave me some Gatorade which I was very thankful for. A part of me worried that I would be DQ'd for receiving outside help but a bigger part of me didn't want to die of dehydration.
I told him that it was going pretty badly and that I wanted to find the first aid tent when I finished. (I don't know what renal failure feels like but I was feeling pretty bad, so I didn't want to risk it.) With less than a block to go and the finish in sight, he zipped off to ask some people where the first aid tent was.
There was an empty lot on the corner before the finish line. Arial and the kids were there. Frances was holding her big "YAY DADDY" sign and yelling "Yay Daddy! Yay Daddy!" over and over again. She looked very happy to see me. She was adorable. I put on as big a smile as I could manage and said something like "Yay Frances". She deserved to see a happy daddy.
It turned out to be a little difficult to find the finish line. There wasn't a big "FINISH" banner or anything. I had to ask where to go. Off on the side of the road, there was a little chute with a timing mat. I just had to go to that.
So, I walked over to the mat (I didn't feel like pretending that I had been running) and touched it.
Immediately, I asked the three volunteers (the only people over by the secluded finish "line") where the first aid tent was. Only one seemed to know. They made me stand there for a second while one of them took off my timing chip (which was fine since I didn't want to get charged for forgetting to take it off). Then one of them helped me over to the first aid tent.
I had completed my first Olympic distance triathlon. At the time, I felt disappointed that I was unable to run the whole last leg.
And you know what. I still do.
mwz
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)