You put your gloves WHERE?

Have you ever noticed the things you can only talk about to another athlete?

This came to mind the other day when I met the dad of one of my son's friends at a basketball game.  He and I see each other at boyscouts and say "Hi" at drop off.  I can't really say that we are "friends" but I knew he was a runner and we'd discussed some local races. In fact, I'd suggested that I was going to run a race that he was racing that very day [but somehow my plans changed and I didn't make it].  After chastising me for not making that day's Tougher Ten Miler . . . our talk quickly turned to running in the cold weather. The conversation started like this. . .

Steve:  "Don't you hate it when you get all these layers on and then 10 minutes later you want to strip them all off again?"  [Short answer Yes]
Paula:  "Completely, then I find myself trying to find places to stuff them"

This lead to a discussion of the most interesting things we've stuffed in the most interesting places on our runs. . . from gloves stuffed in the waistband of your tights. . . to hats dropped off on the side of the road in the hopes they would be there on the return lap. . . to chapstick conveniently placed in the, ehm, interior section of your sports bra. . .

From there our conversation turned to another subject. . . The need to GO.  Have you ever noticed how athletes have no compunction whatsoever discussing completely inappropriate physical needs with other runner?  Our discussion ranged from the local public bathrooms. . . most not open during the winter months and not particularly unscary when they are open. . . to the best stores for sneaking and and using the loo. 

"If the CVS has a Minute Clinic, it will have a restroom. . . You've spend enough money at McDonalds over your lifetime. . . go ahead, use the bathroom." 

How bad do you really have to have to go before you actually will use a bush, tree, or side of the road. . .

"Given that the last time I used the side of the trail in the Marin Headlands I ended up with a case of cellulitis on my derriere. . . the answer to that question is pretty darned bad. . . Although one of my dear, dear Ironteam friends blew my mind when she pulled her bike over to the side of the road and dropped her bike shorts without even hiding behind a bush.  The port-a-potty out at the Nicasio ball field is another classic example and speaking of biking, I've yet to figure out how the pros (and people who think they are pros) can figure out how to go while they are on their bikes-- not saying I haven't tried.  Just that I can't figure it out."

Amongst IronFolk, apparently no topic is taboo. . .
"Sure I can ride 112 miles in nothing but a tri-short with a minimal chamois, I've got an Iron who-ha. . . Hey, can someone please come over here and help me pull this sportsbra over my dripping wet body. . . How do you apply your chamois butter. . . "

There is just something run training though. Sure swimmers can talk ABOUT swimming, but can they talk WHILE swimming?  Not easily.  Bikers can talk ABOUT biking, and can talk DURING biking but its dangerous and reqires yelling.

Running on the other hand?  We can hear not only the person running next to us, but the people running around us.  How many times during TNT training or during a race have you heard someone discussing some topic and either a) chuckled to yourself and obsessed about it as you ran on by or b) felt the need to comment on the conversation?  During my last race-- day 1 of the Chowder Challenge's 1/2 marathon, I ran by 3 women discussing the pleasure of breastfeeding while training.  Since I'm so glad to be removed from those days, I, of course, had to jump right in on the conversation.  It lead to a (at the time) hilarious discussion. . . and, I must say, kept the men moving right on by us.  I couldn't tell you any of these women's names, but I could tell you her breastfeeding secrets.

Maybe it has to do with the general insanity of what we do as athletes. . . miles upon miles in the early morning, freezing cold; 3 am wake up calls for 6 am races;  trying to get into races that sell out in less than a minute; riding bike intervals on our stand trainers in front of the TV during the morning so we can spend the evening in front of the TV on a big foam roller; day in and day out but there is something that bonds your training "acquaintances" together. . . even if you may only see them during training. . .

Here's the question?  I'd love to see comments on the strangest conversation you've had while running or the strangest place you've stashed something on the run.

AND its never to late to help me raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  Without my TNT friends and family, I would never have gotten as far as I have.  Without the money that we raise, so many would not be doing as well as they are. 
Please help by making your donation at
http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/wdw13/ironmom
Any amount helps.

An Ironmom's Thanksgiving

I AM THANKFUL FOR

My less than perfect, slow body for answering every challenge that I force upon it-- from an Ironman to the PTA. . .
The silence of a full house when I get home from my morning run and everyone is still asleep. . .
Pony tail ports and thumb holes. . .
Unspeakably loud, obnoxious music that I would not admit is on my playlist, especially about mile 10. . .
My two boys who, I hope, will grow up proud that their mom is an Ironman. . .
The ability to age . . .
Pasta, refined sugar, and beer.  In no particular order. . .
The stretch of Park Ave between Highland and Salisbury. . .
Title 9. . . for good or for ill, it helped make me who I am today. . .
My dad for showing me how to run races and. . .
My mom for teaching me how to cheer for each and every person on the course. . .
Ironman for designing races that sell out in less than a minute. . .
Compression socks and arm warmers. . .
My TNT family for cheering me on every stroke, pedal, and step of the way. . .
10:30 recovery runs and 8:30 intervals. . .
My God who gives me the strength in my mind to keep my legs moving. . .
My husband, who, although less than enthusiastic about all of this, still supports me in these endeavors. . .
My health. . and the fact that they make replacement hips and knees just in case. . .

Happy Thanksgiving

WHAT IS WET BUT NOT WATER-- A SHOUT OUT TO THE WORCESTER EMS GUYS

WOW.  Its been a long time since I've run in the cold.  And when I say cold, I mean, 27 degrees (or less) cold.  I've already started upgrading my wardrobe to include full tights with windstopper panels and hooded shirts with ponytail ports and thumb holes! 
As recovery from the Cape Cod Chowder Challenge (39.3 miles over 2 days) and training for the Walt Disney Marathon converge, I'm relearning some lessons that I'd forgotten I'd ever known. . .

First:  Its really hard to get started when its cold.  I mean hard to want to get started, hard to get out the door AND hard on the legs when you actually start moving.  This last weekend (starting temperature 25F) found me staring outside at 6 am hoping that the sun was going to warm things up before I started.   Forty minutes later. . . I made it out the door. . . Temperature 26.  Not a giant difference. 

Second: It doesn't matter how many layers you have on. . . its still cold when you start.  And, for some reason, the pavement feels terrible on the legs.  They jar into the pavement and feel like icicles breaking apart on the ground. -- This may also be that I was headed out for a 16 miler less than a month after my 39.3 mile race. . . or it may be the cold. 
Second "b":  It doesn't matter how many layers you have on when you start, you still need to take some off at least 1/2 way through the run.  So you find yourself burdened with excess hats, gloves, and perhaps even a jacket-- I wish they made running shirts with as many pockets are bike jerseys. . . because I think I need them up here.
Second "c":  It doesn't matter how many layers you have taken off, you will it a cold patch and have to put at least 2 of them back on during the run.  Don't think the sun is doing much on a cold day?  Try running from the "sunny" side of the street to the "shady" side of the street and see if you need to add your mittens. . . I'm serious.

Third:  If it looks like water, it may not be water.  I learned THIS one the hard way. . . As you may remember, a few weeks ago, we were surprised with an early November snowstorm that dumped about 4 inches of snow on Worcester and gave the kids a completely undeserved snow day.  Training must go on right?  This marathon down at Disney is coming regardless of the weather here in Massachusetts, right?  So, I found myself outside running down the plowed streets and shoveled sidewalks.  The temperature was in the 40's, so it wasn't that cold, and things were fresh and wet.
Well, as you can imagine, as a headed into the downhill portion of Highland street by one of the high schools, I noticed some nice wet looking spots that I couldn't avoid. My feet hit the pavement gingerly, as I hate getting my shoes wet early into a run if I don't have to.  Much was my surprise when I started to slide.  And slide I did.  Down about 25 feet to the bottom of the road on my backside, sideside, and narrowly missing my frontside too.  Landing, spectacularly I suppose, in a snow bank at the bottom of the hill.
Yeah-- it must have been a spectacular fall-- how do I know, because the EMS guys who happened to witness it waiting in traffic pulled over to make sure I was OK.   I was fine, except for the pretty wounded ego, and kept on with my run. . .

New challenges. . . New running routes. . . New friends to run. . . all to cure an OLD problem.

You can help me swim, bike, run, and slide out cancer by making your donation at http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/wdw13/ironmom