Race Report: Super Dolphin Day: St. Simons Island, GA

I retreated this weekend to St. Simons to participate in the 30th running of the Dolphins. The Super Dolphin Day Races, that is. Sponsored by the local elementary school, where else can you do a race that features a pasta dinner sitting at elementary school lunch tables, and the tee shirt features the tagline “Faster than a Speeding Mullet”?

Now let me be extremely clear. I have NOT been doing any speedwork. At. All. In fact, I’ve only had one real tempo run of just over 4 miles a few weeks ago and even that netted out to be a blistering 10:52 pace. So suffice to say, expectations were low and unknown. My primary goal was to not go out too fast and get discombobulated, but rather just run a sound race and not totally beat my legs up.

Dad and I went to the pre-registration and pasta dinner Friday night, where I was informed that Tilley could NOT register, despite the fact that the posted rules had no mention of no dogs. iPods? Sure. Strollers? Absolutely. Weaving 6 year olds all over the course? But of course. Dogs? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Which really sucks…I was really looking forward to this moment: “….and for the 10K, in the 1-8 female age group….Tilley Hodgeski!” And then watch the crowd go apeshit when a corgi wearing her own race number and ChampionChip waddles up to the table to get her medal and her picture taken with the Super Dolphin. Sigh.

After enjoying our feast, we did our best to drive the course even though the start was rather ambiguous, so we drove it in reverse. I wasn’t sure if they would have mile markers and I wanted to get a handle on my pace in some way at least at the 1 and 3 mile marks.

After a night of fitful sleep as the last of the southeastern storms (that I drove through Friday) expired themselves along the coast, I rose at 6am for a half bowl of oatmeal and a hot shower. I always shower before a race, since it both loosens me up and relaxes me. By 6:45 I was out the door, leaving a seriously confused and mildly irritated Tilley behind. I left a note for Dad with my approximate times on the course and directions to the finish line with instructions to bring Tilley. Turns out it was for not; and the only on-course race shot of me would be a quasi-sasquatch shot at the top of this post proffered by the race photographers. Order yours now ;).

It was a pretty tame turnout, and felt pretty low key. I warmed up a little and wandered over to the start line…which as it turns out wasn’t chipped, so even though it was a chip timed race, we had a gun start. So my time is probably about 4 seconds longer than true. And yes, every second counts :).

I sized up the competition…there were some SERIOUS runners there, most of them women about my age. There were a few token wife/girlfriend running with serious runner male types, and a few token overdressed runners (it was 61 degrees). With little fanfare, we were off. As usual, everyone burst out like a shot and I just kept it steady to get into a rhythm. Before I knew it, we were at the first mile maker with a nice person calling out times. 10:20. Right on.

After a little weaving through the back neighborhoods in the village, we struck out on Mallery up towards East Beach. The course was great; it really gets in a lot of the island from village to marsh to sound to ocean. A lot of people ran on the sidewalks, but probably 70% of us stayed on the road. I would say 80% raced with music. I train with music, but find racing with it both a distraction as well as not being terribly safe. I had a little cat and mouse re-catching some folks who had passed me, and one guy who had the heaviest feet EVER and insisted on staying (what felt like) two feet off my left elbow (the one moment where I wished for not music, but maybe earplugs). As a reward for not clocking the guy, I arrived at the three mile mark to hear “THIRTY”. 10:00 minute miles. PERFECT.

I think I was worried about losing it somewhere between 4 and 5.5 miles, because I must have slowed down to try to leave too much in the tank. I also hit a brutal headwind for probably the last 1.5 miles of the race which didn’t help….but overall I felt good, in control, and nothing was falling off (sadly, including my 6 spare pounds of PMS water).

I finished under the clock at 1:04:50, so 1:04:46. I wandered around aimlessly (repeat: Grandy stood me up!) and made a few friends including a woman who lives on Jekyll and two women who did the race as a run-walk, they are just starting to race. They are patients and big fans of Dr. Berg and were *so* nice. I regret not going to breakfast with them; I waited for the results since in all the past years only 2-4 women were in my age group. Turns out, this year there were nine. And I was ninth place. Breakfast would have been a much better call :)

Ouch! The age group brass finishes were like well under an hour. The truth is, I think I deserve a medal – I ran the race exactly as I had planned, and did better than I thought. If I had come across anywhere south of 11:30 minute miles I would not have been surprised, so I feel really good about the effort. Even better was the fact that I totally could have run longer….granted not at race pace, but it makes me feel like the Shamrock half won’t be a complete joke. Plus I will have my sidekicks with me which inevitably will make it much more entertaining than just high fiving the volunteer kids on the route (which ain’t bad fun either).

I went home to retrieve Tilley and Grandy for a quick breakfast at Dressner’s then a walk around the village. They were just then giving out awards so Tilley got in her requisite “CAN I PET YOUR DOG” time with strangers. And?

Our picture with the Super Dolphin.

Underwater Surprises

So I can tell you there's a bevy of things you don't want to see underwater when you are swimming in it. Typical things come to mind including -- but not limited to -- alligators, snakes, large snapping turtles, and the like.

Fortunately, most swim training takes place in a pool, where you won't see anything scary.

Right? Wrong.

Over the past years I have been privvy to some scary things, and some scary stories as well. Not to mention the downright weird.

- Bandaids. Both popular and frequent. You get over these pretty easily because hey, it's a pool. Chlorine will kill anything, right?

- Children. Now I love kids, but my gym has the same water system for the lap pool and the zero-depth-entry kiddie pool, full of little potentially incontinent ones and their swim diapers. There's been more than one time that the word E. Coli has passed through my brain over and over. And over.

- Poop. I love this true story: from a dear relative - who was hurriedly escorting her daughter ("Mommy, I have to poop! I think there is some in my bathingsuit") from a poolside party to the bathroom. The child (you know who you are) danced by the trash can before being whisked away to the potty. Upon arrival, she no longer had to go. Miracle. There was no evidence in the swimsuit. Walking back to the party, the mom saw It by the trashcan. As the careful Mom knelt to trap and trash It, the child sqealed "OOOOO! MOOMMMY! POOOOOOOP!" The mother simply said: "Be. Quiet. It's. Yours." Classic.

- Corn. Ahh, yes, corn, the summer BBQ pleaser. But let me tell you...seeing a kernel of corn that looks - I think the word I used to describe it to my friends was "tired" - is *almost* enough to make you end a long swim workout before it ever starts. Again I say to you: E. Coli.

- Nuts. No, not another food item. Sadly. A friend of mine (names are held back to preserve the victimized) saw a guy do a flip turn. He went one way, his speedo went another, and the contents of his speedo were suspended - and exposed - in full view of my traumatized but amused friend.

- Copulation. Unbelievably, this same friend was at a very popular, very nice facility doing her swim workout when she noticed some commotion at the end of the lap lane adjacent which was the open swim area. She thought it was wrestling at first, then she noticed it was a couple. Rhytmically wrestling. Repeatedly. I am not kidding.

- Pink Speckled Speedos. Black speedos are the preferred training fashion for the male triathlete. Ones that are speckled with swirls of pink and yellow are not advised. Especially if they are on your ex boyfriend. Again. I am not kidding.

- An Entire Troop of Fully Clothed Boy Scouts. No really! This was tonight. I was doing laps and noticed about a baker's dozen of 10 year oldish boys on the pool deck with a few adult men. On the next lap, one of the men was in the water. On the next lap, a man and one boy. In khakis and a button down. On the next lap, all of them. This was almost too much to comprehend. What? A dare? A birthday? AS IF it could get more weird, they began undressing. Underwater. I may remind you that I am breathing on the right side so I am only getting a glimpse every few yards. Am I awake? Is this real? FINALLY I see as I do a length of kickboard drills - I mean come on, I had to see what was going on - they were learning how to tie off pant legs to make impromptu life vests. THANK GAWD...apparently they were boy scouts working on a survival badge (the much-sought "What to Do if You are Dropped Into a Pool at Lifetime Fitness While Wearing Khakis and a Buttondown" Badge). If that's required for making Eagle Scout, things have changed since my brother went through in the 70s.

Occasionally there are the moments that make it worthwhile. Seeing a fit athlete next to you...especially if you are married to him. Spending a day at the outdoor pool with your friends, taking turns doing swim workouts. Having a 7 year old boy ask your husband as you swim off: "Is she Olympic"?

And yes. Those moments are worth even the tired corn and boy scouts. So long as they are not on the same day.

The Long Run

It's been a long few weeks - in a good way. After recovering from The Cold I turned it back on in the training department in a big way. All in all, over the past two weeks I have gone from feeling that a half ironman in June was a joke...to feeling like it's really doable. The swim is still an issue; my goal there is to get to a place where I can have it be - in the words of Coach Alan - a "non-event". Then, I just focus on the bike and the run.

So in addition to some really good bike trainer workouts, the run is coming along well. Last weekend after missing the prior weekend's long run I put in a 1:30 run for just over 8 miles...I was geared up for 1:40 this Sunday and was alarmed to hear from JoMarie and Amelia that this weekend's scheduled run (for them in DC, for me here in ATL) was 1:50...a whole :20 longer than last week.

Now, :20 isn't long in a vacuum, but daaaaamn long on top of 1:30. Plus, last weekend the last :10 of the run was....rather hellish. Lots of stopping and stretching. SO. Off I went. I headed out to the right along the river and ran to the Chattahoochee Nature Center, and went the half mile around the boardwalk. I tacked on a little bit more to the left then headed back to my :55 rendezvous with a man, a dog, and a bag.

Right on time, I met John who had Tilley in tow, and a bag containing the following: a second Carb-boom, a second water flask, lip balm, a spare long sleeved shirt, and a ziploc bag full of wet wipes. After a quick stretch and goods exchange and dog pickup, off we went in the opposite direction.

Only ten minutes in....trouble. Left side, lower knee...stop and stretch. Repeat every 10 minutes. One last stretch was had once we came off the gravel trail behind the sand company. Then the last :20 of the run...it was actually okay. It was a stable discomfort but no longer a chronic nor worsening feel. We got back to the apartment and Tilley tried to put on the brakes....but we had 9 minutes left. Up to the boathouse again, turnaround, and back. The. Last. Four. Minutes. Took. Forever. But we did it...! 1:50:08 and 9.6 miles. And yes, I *am* counting.

Hope For a Change

Today is Super Tuesday and voting in Georgia for the Presidential Primary. I love Election Day; to me it feels like a Holiday and Game Day and Race Day and my Birthday all rolled into one.

Yes, I am a supreme geek.

On my 2 mile drive to work I saw two - count them, two - groups of enthusiastic supporters for my candidate (I mailed my ballot weeks ago to St. Simons). I honked, flashed lights, waved, they waved back and cheered WOO HOOOOs.

It made me spontaneously cry, and I am not kidding.

Because no matter what happens...no matter who I vote for...no matter who anyone votes for...in a few months...there is one truth.

One truth which I cling to.

One truth that now serves as my light out of this tunnel.

In a few months we will have elected a new President of these United States.

And this gives me hope and a lightness of heart that I haven't felt since I went to bed on the couch very very late on November 7, 2000. I awoke at 3am to a very, very changed world. The gravity of that moment has continued to gain weight on my heart since then. I am ready to shed it!

Sick as a...well...what else?

So I pride myself on staying well as much as I can (control). I am not too Niles Crane-ish (or Warren Hodges-ish, for those of you who know and love my brother) about it, but I am generally packed to the gills with Emergen-C pretty much from September to April. Anytime anyone in the office even coughs, I grab one out of the drawer and fire it up.

So training was going along swimmingly well (well, except for the swimming), and I topped off the tank Thursday night with a nice little tempo run. 50 minutes total, and at a good clip, I felt good. It was right before dusk and we even managed to pass some high school rowers out for their cardio. Times were good. That all wrapped up at about 7pm.

By the time I had stretched, eaten, and showered, I knew. My body had That Feeling. Friday morning I went into work optimisitcally, jacked up on water, Emergen-C, and Esberitox. I met Dad at lunch to do a quick run to Blick and to get his (amazing, fabulous, no I am not just incredibly biased)watercolors that I am in charge of dropping off for the upcoming Spotlight on Art show mid-February here in Atlanta. By 1pm I was ready to throw in the towel; my head was clogged, my throat hurt, and I felt like I was on another planet. Once I set up a meeting in Outlook for some coworkers without a subject line I said, that's it, I am going home.

I did a quick change into jammies and then hit the couch. And then, the gift. The gift from Granny...a Little House on the Prairie back-to-back twofer. YES! For any of you who know me well, you know that Little House is my preferred tool for convalescence. Two episodes and then a 2 hour nap later, I was well on my way to at least not being taken down fully.

Saturday I got up and thought, okay. Working out is out, cleaning is out, thinking is out. What's something I can do that I would never take the time to do otherwise?

I took the girls to the spa, a place called That Dirty Dog. It's one of those drop-them-off or rent-our-tubs facilities, and let me tell you....the latter sure beats the gawdawful wet and fur mess that is left behind by bathing the girls. Tilley is a fast drier but Laika - honestly - could be leveraged to be some sort of water-retaining device for the drought-stricken Atlanta area if we could just figure out how to get the water back out of her pelt.

Tilley went first, then wanted to sit in the tub with Laika "to be there for her". Then it was dryer time. Laika enjoyed being on the table with the collar clip a la Best in Show, but Tilley took a while to get used to the hot beast attacking her fur. Though she did put up an impressive defense. We got home and the girls enjoyed their ice cream from the spa, and I was...back on the couch for another day and a half.

Since I couldn't work out any other body part without getting tired, I decided to focus on my fingers. So I knitted. Knat? At any rate, I did knit. I finished a scarf for my sister and started a second and I have to say...cathartic and addictive. My friend Amelia in DC turned me on to it and even took me to a knitting store near her house to stock up. It's a perfect (12th) hobby because it satisfies my ADD need to be productive while relaxing (I am my father's daughter, it's true).

The other thing I like about it is that you can pick it up and do it for 2 hours, or for 2 minutes, and still make progress. It seems like everything else I do (other than reading at bedtime) is a big "to do" and involves the committment of laarrrge blocks of time.

By Monday morning I was pretty normal excepting needing to stay on Claritin to keep things cleared up. I will say this...you know you are getting old when you do get sick on a weekend (once you get over losing many days of working out) you think, well, hey, at least I didn't have to miss 2 days of work.