life in progress

Running to the top of the tallest mountain.
Flying down a jeweled hill.
Swimming upright in fog.
Whirling, dancing, laughing in the rainbow lights of night.
Join me in real life.

With love --H

Oski Needs More Sedatives

Most of my tri/runner friends know that agility/balance is not one of my strengths. Speed isn't either
lately but that's another story :D. But I'm one of those people who does things to push the limits of
my mind and body. Trail running is one of those things. I absolutely love being out in the mountains.
And every time I conquer my fear of heights running slowly along some narrow single track or
catching myself before tripping on some rock or root, I love everything about trail running a little bit more.
And I really missed it this week. I missed it so much that after I came back from my trip (see below)
I signed up for another race, but only the Pacifica 30km on July 5th. I could probably be ready to run 50km by then but I promised that I was going to pace myself this year.

This weekend I had to deal with another challenging thing that I love, my family.
I was in LA for my sister's wedding.
I struggled with balancing Chinese tradition, it's formality/rigidity, and it's surpression of my true sense of self because
of my sister. I chose to go through the weekend with my tattoos covered up in makeup or
clothing so that I wouldn't have to deal. Yeah... It was a long weekend.
Lots of ceremonies. Lots of food. Lots of family. Lots of bling.
Lots of 20k yellow diamond rings and head to to designer outfits and Porsche minivans. Sigh.. And
sometimes ridiculous amounts of craziness that was almost hilariously fun.
It had its ups and downs but in the end, everything turned out okay.
I will post more photos when my sister gets them back from the photographer.

But here are some initial highlights including the awesome Oski (the Cal mascot) Grooms cake my sister made. Actually,
he's the mascot of the weekend. Something simple, cool, made with love (like the wedding), but can't necessarily
appear without a hitch. My sister put me in charge of Oski and her Teddy Bears (W2 and Walter...um that's another long post) because they are delicate and they are things that she loves. At least that's what I'm hoping... Anyways Oski is made of fondant over rice crispy treats. The fondant was pretty dry and he was pretty compact except for his arms, shoes, and his Cal banner. All I had to assemble were his flag and his shoes right before the reception. Easy right? Nope...while carrying Oski's shoes and flag in a box to the cake table, my sister's friend tripped on the platform, the box landed on the table with a loud thump,
and Oski's flag hit the table hard. Let's just say that it was good I had super glue in my purse for fixing my expensive but shoddily made designer shoes.  If you look closely at Oski's banners there are cracks in it....And he looks like he really needs more pot...






This is the Wii Grooms Cake my sister made for the December wedding. Cool huh?




This is me after fifty layers of makeup done by a professional. The updo is pretty cool though..

long overdue Ironman CDA 2007 report

A recently opened wound and conversations with friends lead me to divulge something only my therapist knew (but I bet all my training partners suspected.)  I entered the world of endurance training to prove something to a boy who I loved and am no longer with.  I ended up proving a lot to myself though it still took therapy afterwards to deal with other issues. I learned that I can't live in fear or whatever, fear of pain, fear or failure, fear of not knowing.  

Triathletes are type-A personalities, don't get me wrong. You have to plan and train and plan and train some more because you never know what a race will bring.  You never know what a training day will bring sometimes.  (I know somewhere out there Sam has a picture of me passed out in dehydration at the top of Bonny Doon in Santa Cruz because I forgot to drink, refused to take off my vest, while climbing a steep, long, hill in the heat. Unfortunately the girls could not carry me down the hill with my bike so they had to wait for me to rehydrate before we headed oh 40 miles back to the car!)  I was the quiet, sometimes complaining type, who did every workout religiously for almost two years.  I didn't feel like I had an option. I refused to DNF in a race, unless I ran out of inner tubes.  I sometimes refused to quit even while injured. 

I've finished many races while sick to my stomach or as I put it, "on one leg." (Ironman CDA 2007, drank too much lake water, sick on most of the bike, Chicago Marathon 2006, strained calf muscle, Philly Marathon 2007, hurt knee.)

But every race has been a good race because I always won. In the beginning I used to beat myself up for not finishing in the top 25%. When I used to run 5-10ks primarily, I'd finish in the top 10-25% of the females without fail.  In a triathlon, I'd be lucky to finish in the top 50% overall. At some point, I decided that it was stupid to be so hard on myself.  Maybe it was the sense of completion. Maybe it was knowing that I could do something stupidly selfish and painful and fun and enjoy it. Maybe it was the sense of camaraderie among fellow triathletes and training partners.  Maybe it was the sense of feeling alive with physical pain and joy at the same time.  I'm not sure. I know that I initially signed up to do an Ironman and a half-Ironman because I felt the Olympic was "too easy." I laugh at that now because I can probably eek out a half-marathon only under extreme duress.  Life isn't easy. Why did I make it harder? Because I could and I loved every minute of it.

I think that my life as an endurance athlete is largely over for now. I might come back to it. In memory, I'm posting the emotional version of my Ironman CDA 2007 report.

Race start. Took a look at the churning lake water standing next to Cheyenne and 1500 other swimmers on a shallow beach and thought WTF am I thinking? I can't do this! Heard the announcer say that due to bad water conditions, we can elect not to do the swim and start on the bike instead. I thought about it for two long minutes and decided that I had to swim. Ironman isn't an Ironman without swim/bike/run.

The swim was awful. Two loops. Too many people. Kicked, swam over, swallowed a ton of water. After the first loop, I stood on the beach and thought about quitting. Instead I took a breathe and dove back in.

Transition 1: Pulled a calf muscle while getting out of wetsuit. Swallowed tears. Got on the bike, shaking and cold and took off.

Bike Loop 1: Okay, but numb both physically and mentally. Just trying to get my rhythm. Got it at mile 40 in the hills. Rhythm lasted for only 16 miles until I got my special needs bag. Almost didn't continue after going through my special needs bag. Sick to my stomach and already tired.

Bike Loop 2: Gutted it out. Forced myself to eat. Knew I had swallowed too much water but there was nothing to be done. Wanted off the saddle at every mile. Tried to stay upbeat because I knew that I could do it. I had trained for so long. But it was hard. My body wanted a nap. And I felt like the fattest, slowest biker out there.

Transition 2: Elated because I love running! Threw my bike at the volunteers, grabbed my run stuff and took off at a 8min/mile pace! Woohooo!

Run Loop 1: The 8min/mile pace lasted for 2 miles. All my friends in the race said who I ran by said, woah, Helen, you are going to fast. I didn't care. I love running! The next five miles went fine, then I hit a wall and my stomach issues came back. Around mile 10, I was in pain. All my joints hurt. It was getting dark and everyone else was finishing. I was a failure and wouldn't make my time goal.

Run Loop 2: Sadness and determination. Thought about my family every mile. Though about the boy every mile. Walked and ran and walked because it was too hard to run. Cried openly only when it got dark so no one would see. Cried and grinned and thanked the volunteers.  One mile to go and I ran that last mile. Janet, Amelia, and Janice were at the line! I was done and I never, ever wanted to do that again.

Post race 1 week. Utter depression. And the rest is chronicled.