Hello, Running!

Triathlon season is over (for me), which naturally means that the marathon season begins. There's been a rest period though, which I really needed. After I made the decision last November to "be great at something," I hit the ground running (and biking, and swimming) and just kept finding another gear, training hard at triathlon until 70.3 Worlds last month, barely resting for a couple of days after Norseman in August. I never really took a break, and I didn't realize how physically, mentally, and emotionally broken down and exhausted I had become.

I'm not complaining. It's been an amazing season, filled with success that I worked hard for. Triathlon is the love of my life. But some rest was long overdue. So, for the past six weeks, I've had only one workout a day on the schedule. It's been luxurious to get on the road bike and ride some hills with no regard for speed or distance, instead of chasing watts on the tri bike on the trainer - I think I've done one trainer ride since Norseman. I've also scaled back significantly on the swimming - this isn't luxurious - I miss it. (I don't, however, miss getting up so early in the morning to do it.)

Rest is important, I know this. You can't keep pushing on forever, you can't just continuously improve. At some point, you have to scale it back and rest and let the gains from the season come to you. Otherwise you'll end up totally burned out. I was told this twice yesterday by two ridiculously knowledgeable people (Dawn Elder and Matt Hamlin, in two separate, unrelated conversations). I know that it "wouldn't hurt, you know, to gain three or four pounds and play at a sport other than triathlon for a couple of days." Although I'm not going with the suggestion to join a ladies' sand volleyball league, I do understand the importance and benefit of losing focus for a little while.

That being said, of course, I've been slowly ramping the running back up. I'm training for the Rock n Roll Marathon in December - as usual, the girls and I have signed up for it as an annual fun event. I know it probably sounds ridiculous to say that marathon training is resting, but mentally, I think this does count as rest for me. The hours of training per week have scaled back since Norseman, and I've gotten a little bit fat. I don't think this is a bad thing. In fact, I recommend it!

The best thing is that as the weather cools, I'm remembering why I love running - it simply feels so good to go outside and run. Although I fought it when they first started showing up on my plan, lately I've been enjoying "naked" runs (without the Garmin - no data, just running for time and volume). Another surprising source of joy - hill repeats! Both are a welcome change from the speed workouts on the treadmill that I attacked all summer. I've been getting to run with Shelly again on our lunch break at work, which makes me incredibly happy because it's just like old times (like, old times - I'm talking the pre-triathlon days!).

And now the long runs begin, not that I didn't run long while training for Norseman, but there's something about the 14-, 16-, 18-mile runs of a stand-alone marathon build that speak to me. Even though we don't really have a change in actual seasons here in Texas, these weekend long runs symbolize a change in seasons from triathlon to marathon, and I just love it. For me, the path to endurance sports started with running, and to go back to it every fall brings me happiness that I forget about until it happens again each year. Not to mention the ease and speed that comes with a drop in temperature and humidity.

I've been kind of lost lately, but yesterday on my long run, I felt that joy that only comes when you're running alone for hours, feeling the wind on your face and the earth passing beneath your feet. There's something about being in that moment, aware only of the movement of your own body through space, that gives validity to the joke that "I run because it's cheaper than therapy." It's a point that's even beyond being lost in your own thoughts - it's just you and your feet and the road. There's nothing like it.

I remember how I used to tell Shelly that instead of dreading difficult workouts, we needed to be grateful for every training session that our bodies are able to do, because you never know what might happen. As corny as it sounds, I'm so grateful to be able to be grateful for that - to know what this feels like. So I welcome the new season. Hello, Running. Let's hang out a while.

Ok, every run hasn't been awesome. I had my first trip-over-my-own feet faceplant last week that resulted in bruised knees, chin, and an amazingly M-Dot shaped scrape right over my heart. I'm choosing to look at this as a positive sign for great things to come. ;)

70.3 Worlds Race Report 2014

The 70.3 World Championships in Mont Tremblant, Canada, was a truly unique experience to round out an incredible 2014 triathlon season.

Bree Soileau, owner and coach of Alamo 180, and I unexpectedly earned our slots to Worlds at Buffalo Springs in Lubbock in June. At that moment, with Norseman on my mind and Ironman Arizona on hers, we quickly joined forces to get ourselves to Canada to race. We found flights, a condo to stay in, and a Sherpa, her friend Mary Evelyn. Bree and I really didn't know each other at all before the race except by name.

She turned out to be the perfect person to share this experience with. Dawn was at the race too, along with a couple of other friends - but Bree and I were the only ones experiencing everything for the first time. I felt happily free to giggle and squeal excitedly about everything along with someone else who was equally excited about the event.

We arrived on Thursday in Montreal and drove the two hours to Mont Tremblant in the dark. Mary Evelyn would join us later on Friday night.

Everywhere we went, starting in the airport upon arrival, we were greeted in French and English with congratulations for qualifying. It felt incredibly special. The Ironman Village was huge and festive, with tons of booths and crowds. It had the feeling of a full Ironman event, but on an even grander, larger scale. I had heard that Mont Tremblant goes all out for Ironman, but to experience it first hand, it's clear why WTC picked this venue for the first Worlds race outside of the U.S. There were signs all around the gorgeous resort town celebrating Ironman. They have a 70.3 race and a full Ironman event here each year and they had repaved all of the roads with buttery, smooth asphalt to prepare for this year's events. Even a portion of the run course that had formerly been a trail was freshly paved for the race.

The athletes seemed different here too. Unlike the usual stressed out, intense atmosphere around most races, this one had a celebratory mood. As we stood in line for packet pickup and shopped and milled around the village, athletes greeted each other, congratulating each other on their qualification and asking each other where they qualified. Bree and I were proud to note that people were impressed that we'd gotten our spots at Buffalo Springs - everyone knows what a difficult course it is. We also noted that it seemed that for most of the athletes, it was a second or third trip to Worlds.

We spent a lot of time enjoying the athlete village.

On Friday we picked up our packets and went to the practice swim. The lake was beautiful, although warmer than I expected. It was so clear and fresh that I wanted to just drink it! I was surprised to find that I felt overheated in my longsleeve wetsuit on our easy 30 minute swim. The highlight was a stop for a drink at a coffee boat along the course - I'd heard about the coffee boat at Kona and it was really fun that a local coffee shop had created a version of that experience here.

We attended the welcome dinner and enjoyed the celebration. We learned that 2700 athletes were taking part in the event from 32 countries. They had qualified at 61 races around the world. 65% were men. 800 were Americans, and 400 were Canadian. There was also a huge showing of athletes from Australia and the UK.

Mary Evelyn arrived that night and we chatted and giggled a little in the condo before turning in early for a big day ahead. On Saturday, Bree and I picked up our bikes from Tri Bike Transport and took them out for a quick shakeout ride to run through the gears. Checked the bikes in to transition and shopped a little, got some lunch, checked in our gear bags, bought breakfast to prepare the following morning, and finally settled down to rest a little. All three of us were exhausted, sunburned, and seemed to be catching a cold.

The gang's all here! Bree, Mary Evelyn, and me

T1 bags, swim to bike

Setting up T2 bags

Loved having a Norwegian flag to use as a landmark to find my row in T2!

Race morning began at 4:30 on Sunday. We grabbed some quick breakfast, headed to transition and then to the swim start. We had a while to wait to start - the pros went off at 8, Bree went at 8:30, and I started with one of the last waves of the day at 8:52.

The highlight of my morning was meeting Jordan Rapp! I was waiting in line for porta potties and I saw him standing off to the side getting ready. After being too shy on Friday to approach pro Terenzo Bozzone as we stood side by side for a moment at the swim practice, I was unwilling to give up the opportunity to meet one of my pro heroes. I jumped out of line to introduce myself and to wish him a good race. He very politely wished me the same and I ran back to the line smiling. OMG! The other pro sighting of the weekend was in the airport on the way home - Jesse Thomas was on the same flight as us and we boldly took the opportunity to meet him. He was gracious and friendly as well. So cool.

Swim start shenanigans. It was definitely cold outside!

When it was finally time for my wave to start, I ran into the water with 115 other women and we furiously started swimming for the first buoy. I settled in pretty quickly, found some feet to chase, and, as usual, had no idea how I was doing. I felt fast, but couldn't predict what my time would be. I was surprised that although our pack stayed together, there was none of the usual pushing and shoving. We didn't swim over any of the packs in front of us, and nobody swam over us from the waves behind us. After one of the smoothest swims ever, in which I did spend time looking up at the mountains and clouds around me and feeling grateful to be at Worlds, I ran out of the water with a new personal best swim time: 33 minutes. Yessss!

T1 included a 400 meter run down a red carpet to the transition area. I grabbed my bag, put on my helmet and shoes, exited the tent, and was immediately disconcerted because the entire transition was empty of bikes. Because our wave went so late, there were probably only 300 bikes of 2700 left in the transition when I got there. Grabbed my bike, ran out past the bike mount line, and settled in with a plan to be relentlessly positive and grateful, and to stay in the moment.

This immediately became impossible to do as I headed out onto the first stretch of the bike onto a highway that, although buttery smooth, was pretty much uphill into a headwind. As I tried to find a rhythm and settle in, it seemed like the entire rest of the field was on its way back on this long out-and-back section. Enormous packs of super fast guys blazing back into town, riding five across in pelotons that sounded like a swarm of bees as they passed. Ugh, this is the drafting they talk about at Worlds. It makes sense. You send out 200 guys at a time who are all about the same speed, and what are they going to do? It's hard to stay legal. But I was frustrated to see that so many of them clearly weren't even trying to. 

I began to feel discouraged. I'd spent the last few weeks since Norseman feeling either great or terrible at every training session; it's been weird to go out and never know what I'm going to feel like. I fought the feeling of "this feels terrible today" for the first 20 miles of the bike. I had to remind myself "this is awesome! This is Worlds!" and tried to feel like I felt at Norseman, but it wasn't happening.

Then I hit the turnaround. Sweet, amazing, beautiful, screaming fast section of downhill/tailwind to make up for the struggle of the first part. I focused on hitting my watts and not wasting the free speed. Started feeling physically great and mentally happy, even though I was at the back of the pack and would continue to be all day, partly because of the late start and partly because of the amazing talent of the rest of the field. I worked on feeling honored to have the opportunity to race with this caliber of athlete, rather than feeling disappointed that I was getting my ass handed to me by 2000 people.

After the highway section, we rode through a cute little town where all the residents had turned out to spectate. We then turned onto the last out-and-back section that we had been warned about - 10k of tough uphills out, and 10k of downhill back. Some of the hills were a struggle to get over, and I felt discouraged again. At the final turnaround, again, the net downhill allowed a screaming fast return to the transition area. I wanted a bike split under 3 hours; I ended up with 3:02.

T2 was a blur. I was happily in and out in 2 minutes, took the time to duck into a porta potty before I started the run, and took off running on the 2-loop, out-and-back course. 

I wanted a run PR. I wanted to go under 2 hours. I had come ridiculously close at Buffalo Springs on a hot, hilly course, and I assumed that running "anywhere else" it would be a piece of cake to carve ~30 seconds off my run PR time. Nope. This run course was no joke. Even though the weather was gorgeous - cool and overcast in the 60s - the relentless rolling hills made it impossible to find a rhythm. It was so crowded; as I started my first lap, nearly the entire field was out there on the course. It was discouraging to have super fast athletes on their second lap passing me like I was standing still as I worked my way through my first. These people can run.

That's what was so weird - nobody walked. NOBODY WALKED. Every half-ironman and ironman event I've participated in, by the time you get to the run, especially on looped courses, at least half of the field is walking. Here, though, everyone was running. And everyone was running FAST. It makes sense. These people are the best in the world, and it showed. Again, I worked really hard at keeping my spirits up and feeling grateful to be part of the event, yelling encouragement at other athletes dressed in Smash kits, and getting a boost from seeing Dawn, Bree, Susan Gershenhorn (another Tri-Belief athlete) and Marc Rubin (a friend from tri camp) out on the course.

As I approached the village for the first time, the crowd support was incredible. At that point I didn't have to try to feel good. I smiled uncontrollably for at least 4 miles, just taking it in. People were yelling at me, "Go Pinky!" which made me laugh and think of Norseman. The volunteers and the spectators were screaming and handing out high-fives. Calling us heroes. Telling us we were the best in the world. It was so much fun to run through this section. 

Back out onto the course for the second loop, I was hurting and just focused on getting it done. I was close to that PR time, and I wanted it really badly. But not badly enough to make my legs go faster. I ended up with a run time of 2:03; not bad for a difficult course, but certainly a disappointment. 

I pushed those feelings aside to enjoy myself running down the final stretch to the finish line, which was as awesome as any Ironman finish line I've ever seen. So brightly colored and full of screaming crowds and a big screen TV and an awesome announcer. I was so happy to see Mary Evelyn and Bree (who had an incredible race - see her report here) yelling at me as I turned the corner to the finish. And then it was done, my chip was removed, an enormous medal was placed around my neck, I was wrapped in a space blanket, drinking chocolate milk and coming down from the high of the day. Finish time 5:47; back of the pack, bottom of my age group. But it was the freaking World Championships, a dream come true - what a way to end the season!

So much happiness running down that final stretch.

We had champagne waiting for us at the condo and we dipped into it as we showered and dressed for a celebratory dinner with Dawn and friends. Continued savoring and taking in the experience, drinking beers with a bunch of happy athletes celebrating the day. It was fun. Everything was fun! Dawn had urged me to spend the entire trip Present and In the Moment, and I really did.

Our condo host left us a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Not your smartest recovery drink, but it was fun!

Dinner and drinks with the Coachie. Me, Dawn, Susan

The next day was a little less fun. We drove in rush hour traffic to the Montreal airport and barely made it through security for our flight. Spent the entire day traveling, sick and tired, but happy. We arrived home to an awesome greeting in the airport from the Alamo 180 welcome committee, which put the icing on the cake of this wonderful weekend.

Alamo 180 welcome wagon awesomeness!

I want to say thank you to my incredible coach Dawn Elder, who helped me pick right up where I left off after Norseman to get me ready for this race. Thank you to Bicycle Heaven for setting me up on great wheels and making sure my bike was ready to race. Thank you to my amazing travel buddies Bree and Mary Evelyn for making this adventure even more fun! Thank you to my friends and family for all your encouragement, and for not defriending me on Facebook for all the posting that I did about Worlds! And as always, thank you to my husband, Robert, for being relentlessly supportive about this dream that I'm living. 

The most amazing season of my life is over, the report is written, and now I'm just looking forward to chilling out for a while before I plan the next chapter. Thank you for reading!

Post-Norseman/Pre-70.3 World Champs: Absurd and Muted

“It must be absurd to come back to work after something like that.” - a brilliant coworker
“So, is everything just kind of muted now, after Norseman?” - a very perceptive friend

"Do you want to go back and try for a black T-shirt?" - everyone else

Yes, yes, and yes (one day).

I’m feeling kind of lost after Norseman and wondering “what’s the next big thing,” even though I have another really awesome race coming up in just a few weeks. Instead of focusing on that, I’m making myself insane driving to work singing show tunes and crying in the car and relating way too much to Evita/Madonna (so what happens now? Where am I going to?). I promise I’m not a crazy person.

Until the moment that I entered the Norseman contest, my Big Goal was to race “one day” at the 70.3 World Championships. As an iron superfan, I can’t think of anything cooler than participating on the same course in a championship race with all of the top pros and age group athletes. Last year when Dawn raced the 70.3 WC, she even got Andy Potts to record a message telling me that he expected to see me at the race “next year.” HUGE, and at the time, unfathomable. I knew the work it would take. I didn't expect it to happen overnight.

Andy Potts and Dawn at the race in Vegas last year.

Then it did. It still feels ridiculous to say that I get to race at the 70.3 World Championships in Canada next month.

But it happened right in the middle of my training for Norseman. I’ve never been so focused on anything in my life. The enormity of Norseman, the impossible dream come true, made it difficult to think about anything else, including the WC race, which has been a more reasonable dream goal for a couple of years now. But then Norseman came and went. Now that it’s over, I’m feeling scattered. And everything is “kind of muted” and “absurd.” How do I come back to real life after that?

The best answer came from my friend Rene, who just raced Age Group Nationals. I messaged her to ask, “how do you handle going to a championship race where you know everyone’s as good as or better than you and not freak out, OMG, I’m freaking out right nowwww!!” Her calm and reassuring answer was, this is normal. You’re right in the middle of the post-race letdown. And you’re also smack in the middle of pre-race nerves. Of course your emotions are everywhere.

Rene is the smartest woman alive.

Thinking about what she said helps me to put some things in perspective. I’m in the middle of awesome things happening in a short period of time. I haven’t had a lot of time to think about what’s next. The future is full of possibilities that I hadn’t even considered 6 months ago (did you know that there’s a race where you swim 10 miles, island to island, running across each one? Did you know there’s a 6-day self-supported footrace across the Sahara that regular people can enter?). With this bigger view of the world comes some risk and uncertainty. So what happens now? Where am I going to? What’s the Next Big Thing? I’ll do my best to embrace and enjoy this journey instead of freaking out.

In the meantime, I’ll start to focus on Canada and remind myself that this is a dream come true. Less than three weeks!

After nearly 3 weeks, my heart and brain are still here on this mountain.

Norseman: Swimming in the Fjord!

Today was athlete check in, plus the usual prescribed pre-race short swim/bike/run. It was a really good day...but of course the highlight was the swim!

I ran this morning in Kinsarvik and then we drove over to Eidfjord to do everything else. The very low-key athlete check-in was held in a small hotel conference room. The crew and athletes were friendly and the general vibe around the place was "savor it, enjoy it, have fun." I loved hearing that and feeling the positive energy. We spent some time in the Q&A corner with some very helpful crew members who had done the crew race last weekend - 8 members of the crew raced the entire distance last weekend! They were full of great advice and I'm really glad we stopped to talk with them.

Can't help posting more pics from my run today.

And another one. Gorgeous views EVERYWHERE.

After the very quick check-in where I received the usual stickers for my bike, bib, etc., and Robert received his support team shirt and a wristband that will let him into the transitions to help me, we walked over to see the swim start. I saw another woman wearing a wetsuit and asked her if she was going to swim. I then scrambled around quickly to grab my swim stuff so that I could hop in with her - there is always safety in numbers, especially when you're swimming in a fjord with 2 cruise ships parked in it.

Athlete check-in.

Ok, so this plus the wristband makes it really real.

There's a cruise ship parked right in front of Swim Out.

It turns out that my new friend Penny is a blueseventy ambassador, so she had all the same swim stuff as me - we were matchy matchy from head to toe in our wetsuits, booties, and neoprene caps. This made me laugh and miss my friendies back home.

I was surprised that the water wasn't as cold as I thought it would be (about 60 degrees today). Of course that can change in 2 days - but I was very comfy swimming in my wetsuit, booties, and cap. We swam for about 15 minutes and each breath I took, I was thrilled to see the mountains around me as I looked up from the water. When we finished the swim, we took a couple of pictures and then Penny suggested a practice jump off the dock! After we climbed out, we had to laugh, because at that moment several small children jumped into the water in just their swimsuits. I guess it all depends on what you're used to.

Penny = carefree jumper. Kris = cautious goggle holder. 

Tomorrow there will be a blueseventy swim in the morning and I can't wait to swim again. I am definitely savoring this and taking it all in. Then there's the mandatory athlete meeting at 3 pm...and then I'm sure time will fly by until the race starts on Saturday morning! You can track me here: http://www.nxtri.com/live/

A rare photo of the photographer - my hubby and support crew, Robert. :)

Norseman: Getting to Know the Course

I'll admit that when Dad's itinerary for this trip included getting here nearly a week early, that I grumbled about it - why arrive early? Why not use the vacation days to enjoy Norway after the race instead? So far, though, I've been proven wrong. It's been really good to get here early and get to know the course.

We arrived in Rjukan (where the race ends) on Monday and left this morning (Wednesday) to drive along almost the entire 140 miles of the course to Eidfjord (where the race starts). This allowed for some awesome training in the warm, sunny area around Rjukan/Gaustatoppen. They've been having unseasonably warm weather and it was in the 80s yesterday when I went out to ride and run. I can't think of many things that make me happier than being on my bike, and yesterday's easy spin along part of the run course was incredible. I just took in the scenery and chilled out a bit.

Dad and I got in a couple miles of training on Zombie Hill. We practiced walking/running up it while Robert practiced driving the support vehicle and parking All Four Wheels Off the Road, as instructed in the support crew guide.

We drove up to the entrance to Gaustatoppen and I posed for this picture, then went home for a nap. Hoping I'll get there fast enough to go through that gate on Saturday. Robert and Dad climbed to the top (3 miles) and got to see where the finish line will be!

I received this in my email yesterday...it's getting real.

I was apprehensive about the drive from Rjukan to Eidfjord, but ended up being glad that I got to see the bike course. (Everything looks worse from a car - right, Shelly!?!) We took note of the kilometers that passed between the bottom of Zombie Hill and where we expected T2 to be - this is where the bike will end on Saturday and the run will begin. It's the most scenic run course I've ever seen! Cannot wait to run it this weekend.

Then we started paying attention to the bike course: what the climbs were like (challenging but not impossible), what the road surface was like (perfect in some areas, pretty crappy in others, a fair share of surface not unlike Texas chip seal, and three sections that are just gravel), what the weather was like (constantly changing - sun, wind, hot, cold, rain). It was really good to be able to see everything that I'll do on Saturday - just in the opposite direction.

Once we climbed from the valley onto the Hardangervidda plateau, the weather changed dramatically. The temperature dropped from 80 to 50 degrees, the wind picked up, and the sun went away.

The yellow building is where support crews will be parked on Saturday, waiting for their athletes to complete the first climb out of Eidfjord.

And then you have this to look forward to. Three climbs and descents followed by one final, enormous climb (not pictured here) up to Imingfjell, followed by a long descent into T2.

It took quite a bit of the day to do the drive, and when we arrived in Eidfjord it was exciting to see banners for Norseman and to see, in person, the town that I've only viewed in photos and YouTube videos.

Eidfjord and surrounding area = gorgeous.

We drove about 30 minutes past Eidfjord to where we're staying at Kinsarvik in a cosy little cabin for the next few days. Tomorrow I'll get to swim in the fjord (!!!) and put all of my awesome blueseventy cold weather gear to good use! I'll also get in a little bike and run, in addition to checking in. And then start counting down the days - race day is approaching quickly!

Norseman: Travel to Rjukan (Zombie Hill and Gaustatoppen)

Norway is beautiful. After an uneventful day of traveling (yippee!), Robert, Mom, Dad, and I landed in Oslo yesterday and made our way to Rjukan, the town where the race ends. Every single view on the 2.5 hour drive was as scenic as the photo above.

We packed everything I need for the trip into these 2 bags (plus this little camelbak). The helmet was a fun airport conversation piece. So was the multi-tool in my carryon that was investigated thoroughly at security in San Antonio. They didn't have anything to say about the giant bag of white powder (Infinit) that I was also carrying.

Robert relaxing for a few minutes with all our stuff. Traveling with the bike was a little scary but it all worked out. It cost $100 to fly with it on United. Someone with the exact same bike box as me traveled from Newark to Oslo on the same day - but not for Norseman. Their box was somewhat crumpled when it came off the plane, which scared me, until I saw a second one (mine) come out unscathed. Yippee - everything was awesome...

...until we couldn't fit it in the rental car. So we took everything out of the box and checked the box at the airport to pick up when we leave. Multiple trips to Arizona with Dawn prepared me to pack luggage for 4 plus a bike into the back of a tiny wagon.

Over the next couple of days we'll drive the point-to-point race course backwards to get to Eidfjord, where the race starts. I spent my time on the drive to Rjukan staring out the window and listening to an inspirational mix on my iPod that Dawn made for me. Smiling and thinking Nothing But Positive Thoughts. Many of them revolved around "this is kind of like Mt. Lemmon."

For the first 160 lucky competitors who reach the cutoff at 32k of the marathon, the finish line will be at the end of a 3-mile hike up to the top of Gaustatoppen. But first, all the competitors "run" up Zombie Hill - a 3-mile climb up a paved, switchbacky road. We saw both for the first time today.

Our first view of Gaustatoppen. You drive through a beautiful valley with giant steep cliffs on either side, and then the mountain appears. I'm keeping the word "scared" out of my vocabulary...so instead I just started giggling when I saw it.

The first part of the run course is supposed to be relatively flat. Until you reach this signpost and take a left to start the climb up Zombie Hill.

...which was marked on the ground right after the turn. I made Dad pull over so that I could take a photo. 

We drove up Zombie Hill and turned left towards the cabin where we're staying, instead of continuing straight along the race course to Gaustatoppen. We're staying just a little way down the road from where the race will end for the folks who don't make the cutoff - if you don't get there within the first 160 participants, you end the last 3 miles of the race on what had been described as "a flat road in the valley below." Having now driven it a couple of times and run along part of it once, I can say without hesitation that It Is Not Flat. 

After settling into our very cute cabin, I went out for an easy 30 minute shakeout run. I couldn't stop smiling the entire time. It was so ridiculous to be running along this gorgeous, scenic road with Gaustatoppen constantly in my view.

Gaustatoppen: the view from my run. Amazeballs.

The view from our cabin. How crazy to wake up (too early) in the morning and see the mountain that I've been thinking about all summer.

Robert built my bike last night and I took it out for a quick test. This photo was taken at 10:30 pm. That's snow on the mountain behind me.

After my run, we drove down to Rjukan to shop for groceries. I realized that we'd be driving up and down Zombie Hill quite a bit over the next couple of days - I'm determined to make friends with it. Dad and I are going to practice a bit on it today - we're thinking he'll pace me on this section of the race.

Today I'll also take my bike for an easy spin along the flat-ish part of the run course in the valley. My support crew will be hiking up Gaustatoppen while I do this, and they'll be instructed to come back with Nothing But Positive Comments. 

And finally for today, a few more photos: 

This is posted next to the front door of our cabin. I've looked for the fox but haven't seen any sign of it - I haven't seen any cats or coyotes either. ;)

And after all our joking...apparently #norwegia means "cheese?"

This brochure gives me hope. If a baby can do it, so can I.

Norseman: Taper Madness and Here We Go

Fourteen weeks of training and one week of taper have passed since I won my slot to Norseman in the blueseventy Facebook contest in April. And just like that, it's less than a week away: the race is on Saturday, August 2. I've spent the last few days saying to myself things like "next time I run it will be in Norway" or "next time I swim it will be in a fjord." It's all very surreal and I'm excited to take the next step of the journey, which is our actual journey across the ocean to Norway!

Time for a little reflection first, though. When I was training for Ironman Texas last year, I posted an entry about how ironman training is hard (it is). I went back and reread it a few weeks ago and at the time, I thought, well, I'm not falling apart, I must be soooo much stronger and fitter than last year!

Then it hit, and not without good reason. After a race at Buffalo Springs immediately followed by a week of hard training in Arizona, I thought it would be a great idea to do the Castroville time trial in the middle of the next weekend's 80 mile training ride (Dawn did not approve), followed by an hour and a half run on trails, followed by a long run the next day. So guess what, I'm not invincible, I cracked, had a lackluster ride and two terrible runs, and then I cried and begged Dawn to give me a REAL TAPER because I really, really needed it.

I did get a new 40K TT pr, though, plus a little bit of hardware. So that was fun. :)

Dawn agreed, and scaled my training way back. Which, after like two days, left me smack in the middle of TAPER MADNESS. OMG, I'm getting fat. I'm losing fitness. I'm going to get sick. I can't stand not doing anything. But mostly, OMG, I'm going to get fat. So I made the rookie mistake of throwing in an extra swim (hey, one more easy swim won't hurt - except I didn't take it easy), and going to the gym every day at lunch to do pushups and planks and crunches (I've usually gotten these core workouts in twice a week).

It shouldn't have been a surprise that I woke up a couple of days later with a painful shoulder, and by the end of that day, I could barely lift it. I immediately had it checked out by the amazing Justin at Promotion Physical Therapy. He told me it was tendinitis brought on by an increase in volume when I should have been resting. He put me on ibuprofen and scolded me. Dawn scolded me, and I scolded myself for making rookie mistakes - you're supposed to get a little bit fat in the taper. Rest is so important. Come on Kris, you're smarter than this. But it's amazing how the Taper Madness really does take over.

I got it together after that and did the taper the way it's supposed to be done. Some shorter workouts with bursts of intensity to keep the fitness there. And now I feel really, really good going into race week.

After all that - I'll say the training part was almost easy compared to handling the logistics of this race! Training is something that's hard, but that I understand. Packing up everything I'll need for a nine-day trip across the world is not. And planning for everything that needs to happen was pretty stressful. But it's all done. The bike is in the box. The bags are packed. Robert, Mom, Dad, and I are ready for this adventure.

My poor little bike all broken down inside a box. Thank you Orissa for lending me the box, and thank you Greg at Bicycle Heaven for teaching us how to pack it up and build it back together again!

Matt scolded me too. I can't remember what for, but I'm sure I deserved it. ;) These guys are GREAT; they put brand-new awesome tires on my race wheels to handle the questionable road conditions in Norway.

A super fun send-off from the Iron Whiners! Love love love these people. 

One more swim at Landa yesterday to practice in the neoprene cap (it works great). Got one last "good luck" wetsuit zip from Brian and then a fabulous ride with Trent on one of my favorite roads (River Road!) - a great way to spend a last day of training in Texas before the race.

I want to say thank you for all the good luck wishes and prayers. It's a little overwhelming and it means a lot to me that people want the best for me in this journey. I hope to make everyone proud and have some super fun stories to tell when I get home.

The next time I write a blog entry, it will be in Norway!