Showing posts with label bike. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bike. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Three Tarantulas and a Bear Enter a Race (Part 2)

Nine weeks of focused training led me to this moment: Smiling with my hand on my wetsuit-clad hip, pretending that the picture being taken was the most important thing I would do all day. Nick gave me a quick good luck kiss and walked me down to the dock where people were splashing their feet and warming their bodies to prepare for the upcoming exercise.


Lining up with the other women, I put my pink swimcap over my blonde braids and looked at the athletes I was up against. Only two swimmers were in the water, the rest of the women were on the shore, conversing about breakfast and final bladder emptying. My eyes scanned the crowd: Strong women, fast women, brave women... and me. To beat these women, I would have to swim my strongest, bike my fastest and run my bravest. The challenge was in front of me and all I had to do was stretch my arms forward and grab it, one stroke, one pedal, one step at a time.

Nick stood on the dock, his overgrown blonde hair peaking from beneath his cap and his smile attempting to exit the sides of his face. I gave him a slight grin, trying not to convey the fact that I was filled with pure stokernous (what you get when you combine the emotions of being stoked and nervous at the same time. To be honest, I was ecstatic to have him there cheering me on. This would be his first time seeing me race! And I couldn't think of anyone else I would rather have kiss my lips at the finish line.

At the same time though, I was nervous. What if I got a flat tire? Or if I was the last swimmer out of the lake? Would he be disappointed that we drove all this way? That he had to take time off of work? I had to push these thoughts out of my head and remember that none of that would happen. Even if it did, it wouldn't matter because I was here to compete and to have fun doing it.

The countdown began and I looked over the water through goggled eyes. I had this.

My goal swim time was to hold a 2:26 pace and be out of the water in 38 minutes and 57 seconds. I beat that with a 2:19 pace, exiting the water in 37 minutes and 13 seconds.

I ran up the launch and into the transition area, exiting in 57 seconds less time than I had planned. Taking a big bite of dry Picky Bar while I swung my leg over my Felt DA4, I began the first climb out of the marina.

The day was perfect. Sun was shining on the earth and my tires were at the exact PSI I needed to feel strong. I passed three men on their bikes and smiled to myself. Swimming may not be my best event, but maybe I could take some people off my list on the bike. Holding an average pace of 19mph, I watched as the vineyards and volunteers encouraged me along. Then the turnaround came. It was time for some hill climbs. I turned a corner and there was a... tarantula?! Was that really a giant spider I saw or was it a rat?!? A rat would make more sense, but the furry creature definitely had more than 4 legs! Maybe I was seeing things... maybe I was pushing harder than I thought I was... but I'm pretty sure I just saw a tarantula.

The arthropod must have scared my biceps femoris, because my pedal stroke sped up a little bit and I finished the 25 mile bike portion 23 seconds under my goal time!

Transition was not as smooth between the bike and the run and my legs felt heavy as I embarked on the two lap hilly 6.2 mile course. "She's still smiling," some guys commented. "That cutie in the braids has a huge smile on her face. She must be having fun!" I whipped my head back and gave them the cheesiest, toothiest grin I could muster, then I darted away... at a much slower pace than to which the word "darting" usually refers.


When I crossed the finish line, Nick was there waiting for me with a smile and open arms. I was so excited to see him that I almost forgot to collect my medal and give my timing chip back. My boyfriend was proud of me, but more importantly, I was proud of myself. Race one down, one more to go! Knowing I had placed, we stuck around for a couple of hours and watched football and played arcade car racing games until the award ceremony.


On the drive back home, I told Nick we had to make a pit stop; little did he know I had big birthday plans up my sleeve!


Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Three Tarantulas and a Bear Enter a Race... Part 1

Back at it... It's only been a year. Hello, hello? Is anyone out there? Is this thing on?

Sorry I left you all. I know you have missed me greatly. There are just only so many seconds in a day yet so many workouts to fit in, patients to teach and clients to correct. But I'm here! I'm here. Don't go away!

For my 28th birthday yesterday, I decided I needed to do more of what makes me happy. Writing this blog was definitely an endorphine releaser for me. So here I am!

And not only am I back on the blog, I am back on the race scene, too.

This last weekend, the boyfriend and I drove down to California... aw, home. I took four days off of work and packed my camping gear for the best vacation ever!!!... or so I thought. Turned out we didn't camp... In fact, it turned out we didn't really vacation. We sat. And sat. Raced a little. Then sat some more. Ugh. We didn't drive the coast at all. We didn't see the Redwoods like we planned or camp along the sand as I hoped. But at least I was with Nick and he is not an eyesore.


We drove into Pismo Beach Friday afternoon and, after checking in at our friend's hotel (shout out to The Oxford! You should definitely stay there! Great hotel!), we drove (some more) out to Lopez Lake where the Scott Tinley Tri Series were to take place over the next two days.

Funny thing about Lopez Lake: There is a $10 charge per day just to get into the marina. Say what? I remembered this tidbit of information from three years ago when I last competed, so Nick and I parked outside of the gate... we thought we had them fooled. Apparently, you have to pay to park outside of the gate as well. So not worth it. Next time, I'm skydiving into the marina (we will get to that later!).

Anyway, as we turned the corner to cross over the lake, I noticed the water level was low. We all know California is going through a drought, but this looked like Wildflower 2014 all over again! The place where I usually do my practice swim is literally sand now. Just sand, not even a puddle of water! Not even a drop! They even moved part of the mountain bike course to go through that sand... worst idea ever (again, we will go over that later)!

Nick and I parked the car and rode our bikes to the packet pickup. After grabbing my two bags (oh, did I mention I did two races back-to-back. Yeah. That was something), we biked over to the sand that was once water and hiked our way to the muck and mud where dead fish were strewn across the sides. Hastily, I put on my wetsuit and looked at Nick with my squinty brown eyes. "You look huge," he said. Let's just say he will never see me in a wetsuit again!


I did my little ten minute routine, speeding up then slowing the pace. Every once in awhile, I could see my hand in the water and it looked like a catfish ready to eat me for dinner. Then the water would suddenly get warm (no, I did not wet myself) and I would flee to the shore for safety. "It's only been 7 minutes," Nick would say. Reluctantly, I would go back out again wondering if he really would be able to save me if that catfish took me under.

When my Garmin beeped ten minutes into the swim, I hustled back to the muddy bank and climbed my way through the muck and back to Nick. With eyes wide, he choked back a laugh.

"Do I have muck on my face," I inquired.

"Just a little," he stifled the giggle.

We grabbed my race packs and rode our bikes back outside the gate to the car. Gnats gnawed at our bare skin under the heat of the midday sun. Nick's patience was wearing thin. I promised him we would make the bike ride short, but that promise was unfulfilled when we were given the wrong directions for the mountain bike route. We were lost and dehydrated by the time we found the road. I told Nick I needed 30 more minutes on the trail, but I would meet him back at the car. An hour later, I found him swatting at invisible flying objects.

Not wanting to irritate him even more, I agreed to run alone from our hotel. With that, we loaded the car and cruised back to Pismo Beach.

My legs never felt the run, but my belly sure felt that delicious Italian dinner we had with Nick's friends in San Lois Obispo!

To be continued...

Thursday, July 3, 2014

What Was I Thinking?

The Monday after the Wild Canyon Games, I was driving home from a YoungLife barbecue and saw Stephen Campbell on a run. I waved him down to introduce myself. As we chatted about triathlons, training and the WCGs, he asked if I was going to be participating in the Pacific Crest Triathlon.

The more I thought about it, the more realized what a good idea it would be. Being a half Ironman, it would be a great race to practice nutrition and go half the distance of my August race. So I pulled in the driveway, parked my car, rushed inside, turned on my laptop and... realized my credit card was still in my car. After flying downstairs to grab my wallet, I tried again. Five minutes later, I was signed up. Well, that was quick.

The race was this last weekend. I stayed up late the night before to pick up a friend from the bus station. The next morning, I felt confident. I woke up early, watched some Wimbledon and ate my oatmeal. On my way to the race start, I took a new route... and got really lost. I made it to the race start with 10 minutes until "Go Time". Well shoot. So much for setting up the transition area. My wetsuit magically appeared on my body (with some effort from my strong arms and some wetsuit shuffling) and off I went. The woman next to me asked how I kept such a calm face. Thank goodness my eyes weren't betraying my inner nerves.


Swimming felt amazing. I grabbed on to the feet of the man in front of me and drafted off of him for a good 400 meters before he kicked me off. The water was a wonderful 64 degrees. 1.2 miles went by in a flash with reggae music playing in my head. Every stroke felt efficient, my body placement was correct, my sighting was on for the first time ever. The orange swim caps around me bobbed up and down. I was in the middle of the gaggle, not the back.

I pulled out of the water and ran up to my bike.

This is not a race. This is a dress rehearsal. 

These words reminded me to slow down, to savor the moment. I ate half of a Picky Bar and peeled my wetsuit off. My face turned green with envy as I looked at the bikes stacked next to mine. I thought mine were beautiful, but I was so wrong. My Felt DA4 is chicken scratch compared to the Cervelo next to me. But hey, it's the rider, not the bike, right? Too bad I was losing both those standings.


I started the bike going way too fast. 20.1 mph uphill compared to the 16 mph at which I usually train. Once I made it to Elk Lake, it will be all downhill from there... or so I thought... I figured it would be okay to push hard on the false flat because I would have a fast downhill to reward me at the end. So wrong I was. Before that nice, rewarding downhill is a 20-mile uphill battle. Not just uphill. We are talking UP THE FREAKING BIG A HILL. As I started the climb, I shifted gears and felt my chain freeze; it had fallen off the chain ring. I unclipped and struggled to get it back on the ring. People passed me and asked if everything was okay- the same people I had just passed. Grrrrr. I walked to a fairly flat area and got back on the saddle. Up I went. And up some more. And more. And... wait, there's some more. QUADS. GLUTES. GET ME OFF OF THIS DARN BIKE!!!

At the top, I found the descent. It was windy... so windy. As I gripped my aerobars, I feared a gust of wind would take my tires right out from under me and leave me with major road rash and a bruised ego... best case scenario. A man flew past me and screamed WAHOO! I passed him a little later and said, "Tag, you're it!" He laughed and we kept the game going until the second transition.

The run started and I downed the rest of my Picky Bar. Three miles in, I realized my pace was way too quick. Maybe I should walk for two minutes just to slow down, I told myself. Bad idea. I didn't have to walk, but once I did, the pain set in. I could not get my run back. Four miles later, in a fit of 8 minutes jogging, 2 minutes walking, I saw Robbie at the water stop. Robbie!


Robbie is a runner and good friend. He cheered me on and I felt a slight amount of inspiration. Okay, I got this. Oh, wait, no I don't. I was done. My legs were done. It would be a long "run". I trudged through the run path and gave up hope. Hanging my head low, my bike friend passed me and said hello. Well, shoot... now I was in for trouble. Am I really going to do a full Ironman next month? Yuck. No motivation left on the path.... until...

My mom's blonde fro peaked around from the corner of some bushes. MOM! She jogged with me and suddenly I felt much more motivated. I took off toward the finish line. Not too much time passed before I was walking again. A man came to my side and said, "You and I are playing the same walk/run game. C'mon, there's only a mile left. Let's do this." Kevin, as the man's friends called him, and I jogged slowly toward the town center. I could smell victory. With 400 yards left to go, I encouraged Kevin to kick it up and finish strong with me. He declined and my legs kicked in. I dashed to the finish line, crossed with my head high then wobbled to get my medal... the prettiest medal I've ever seen.


Kelly and my parents were waiting for me at the end. It was a wonderful way to finish the most beautiful, yet most challenging course in which I have ever competed.

That night, Kelly, Megan and I went to Cruxapalooza and won the selfie contest! WINNERS!!!!!


And that's what it takes to be a Bad Ass.



Thursday, May 8, 2014

Let the Pain Begin

After Wildflower, I thought I would give myself a week to recover. You know what recovery is, right? Laying on the couch, painting, playing with the dogs, reading a book... all fantastic ideas! But after 3 days of "recovery", which looked more like taking my friends on a hike, teaching Pilates and driving back to Oregon, I decided to stop letting time slip by and begin training for Ironman Boulder.


Coaching yourself in triathlon is hard work. When I hired a coach two years ago, it was fantastic because he would look at my ten hours of training per day and say, "Ashlee, what are you thinking?! I want you to take an entire day off." I would do an easy bike ride instead. Coach would see me and say, "Ashlee... I mean it! No working out today!" It is so much easier to recover when you are forced into it.

So today, I looked at my schedule and saw a huge gap of time between teaching yoga and meeting with Leah. What better way to fill that time than to go crank out a 23 mile bike test then brick it with a five mile trail run? Great idea!


So the IMBoulder training has begun.

STATS AS OF MAY 8, 2014

BIKE               23.1 MILES
RUN                5.0 MILES
SWIM             0 MILES
WEIGHTS      0:15
YOGA             1:00
PILATES        0:00        

Starting photos with three months to go:


Sunday, May 4, 2014

Comeback Tour 2014

One stroke, one peddle and one step... followed by multiple more. Gotta love Wildflower!


One year and two weeks ago, I had surgery on my anterior cruciate tendon. When the doctor was finished, he looked me in the eyes and told me the tendon could not reach and I would never run again. I remember tears flooding my eyes as I realized my job had come to an end and my life as I knew it would be totally flipped upside down.


Then something amazing happen. I prayed and I trusted that God would heal me if it was in His plan. My parents and my sister were my biggest fans and they continued to encourage me when I felt like the road had come to an end. With determination and phenomenal physical therapists, I got back on my feet and started working to strengthen the muscles in my leg. I still remember the first mile I ran with my PT Jason. It was a grueling 8:43 mile and I didn't think I would make it the entire way, but I did it. Slowly, I built my way back to race shape.

A year later, here I am: Lake San Antonio, California. My Santa Barbara Tri Team is here; Sloan is here; my mom, Todd and Richard are here! Life is great!

The morning started at the bottom of my tent. In Wyoming, the kids nicknamed me Inchworm because I would inch into a new sleeping spot throughout the night. Last night, I inched to the bottom of the tent. I woke up and laid in my bag for a bit before making my morning oatmeal in my Darth Vador mug from Jameisha.

*Sidenote: Happy Star Wars Day! May the Fourth be with you! Remember last year I had a Star Wars marathon day on this day? My, how things change.
  

After setting up my transition area and meeting up with Richard (which completely made my day!!), I got on the shuttle and headed out to Harris Creek. I had almost 2 hours until my start time, so I did some squats and some Optimal Core Performance/Pure Awesomeness. This girl Heidi set up next to me and we became fast friends! Turns out her dad lives in Santa Barbara! Heidi and I walked down to the race start and got ready to go.


This year's race was a little different because of the water levels at Lake San Antonio. It was so low, they had to move the swim out two miles from the transition area. So, instead of the typical swim 1.5k, bike 40k and run 10k, it was a swim 1.5k, run 2k, bike 40k and run 4k. The water we swam in was sludge. As soon as you put your face under the water, it was a total black out; even darker than if you had closed your eyes.

All of that is usually covered in water

The swim felt awesome! It was the first race I felt really confident in my abilities. Hiring a swim coach was a great idea. A big thanks to Jeremy for whipping my butt into gear! I was able to spot pretty well, even after having my goggles kicked off and losing my cap then having to carry it in my hand while I stroked.

During the first run, I was right on pace. I felt like I was floating on air! But I looked down and realized my timing chip had come off with my wetsuit. Oh shoot. I debated turning around, but I was already 1.8 miles in. When I got to the transition, I had hoped to get out within 3 minutes, but I had to run around trying to find someone to get me a new timing chip.

The bike started about the same time Lynch Hill started. Eek! I heard Richard and Laura cheering my name then climbed that hill like nobody's business. Right when I hit the point of utter exhaustion, I heard Todd call my name. He was running up the hill next to me, my cell phone in his hand. "Your mom wanted me to play this for you," he shouted. Eye of the Tiger blasted through the speakers. The woman next to me commented that she was sticking with me the whole way and I asked Todd if he would run 25 miles with us.

My mom was at the top of the hill, yelling and cheering. I tore down the road, pressing and pulling. My legs felt so strong. The entire bike was amazing. People nicknamed me The Pink Powerhouse and kept commenting to each other that they didn't know how I was able to climb so well. One man told me that he was known for being a great climber, but he was impressed that I was kicking his butt. No one ever passed me! I don't know if it was the new bike, my legs or just the fact that I trusted God would get me to the end, but I felt so good!


I rode into the transition area ready to go, but once I was off of the bike and had my Kinvaras on, my quads started to seize up. Todd ran up beside me with music, but once we hit the first hill, I had to walk. I had never felt so much pain in my life, not even after my accident. The hill was a beast, but I didn't have to take off my shoes this year!


Running down Lynch Hill toward the finish line, I knew I had not met my goal of completing the race in under three hours or placing in the top 20, but I raced with all I had and I did it! My tendon held and I am here to tell the tale!


My race ended with hugs and notes of encouragement from my family and friends, a bouquet of gorgeous flowers from Richard, a bracelet from Todd and a huge grin on my face.


This just goes to show, with faith, encouragement, determination and hard work, you can do anything to which you set your mind.


Next race: Ironman Boulder! Let's do this!!!


Monday, February 24, 2014

Recovery: Not For the Weak of Heart

Last weekend was my test weekend. I went out for a long run, prepared to suffer. I started with a 5-mile warm-up and it felt awesome. In fact, it felt so good that when I decided to bump it up for the test portion, I took my pace down an entire minute... and it felt magical. If you are an athlete though, you know what happens when you try to take a full minute off of your goal pace... you know what happens when you even try to take 10 seconds off your goal pace!

Ash, you need to slow down.

I know, legs, but you feel so good! I could go for hours at this pace!

No, you can't. In fact, I'll bet you can't even finish thirty minutes at this pace.

I'll take that bet, legs! And I'll raise you! I used to hold this pace with no effort whatsoever!

Yeah, you used to have a tendon, then that car hit you.

Whatever. I got this. I am Iron Man.

Nope... I am not Iron Man. Less than 20 minutes into the test, my body started to give up on me. I swung my arms like a mad woman and urged my hips forward. Go, go, go! But my legs didn't go. In fact, they abruptly slowed and almost stopped completely.

I sucked down a Gu Roctane like there was no tomorrow. Pure pineapple goodness overwhelmed my taste buds. My eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy and I was fairly confident I had never felt so good in my life, despite having just failed miserably.

The next morning, I cut my bike ride short. My swim test was a full two minutes slower than my base 2 test. I shook it off and figured I was just off that weekend.

But things didn't get better over the week.

I taught six Pilates classes, a yoga class and some functional strength and ski conditioning classes. That on top of my daily running, cycling and swimming. This was my first week in Build 1, but my paces were slower than my base week and my body felt fatigued.

NO! I will not be a Christmas Star!

Instead of letting my body rest, I pushed through the fatigue like an elephant pushing through tar. On Thursday, my body was dead, but I ran anyway. I jogged out to Matt's grave and took him a rock I had found at the beach with my friend Luke. Then I set a QOM on Strava and I was stoked. Unfortunately, later that night during Taco Thursday with Rebecca, I could feel my right hip seizing up.




The hip caused me to cut my ride short on Friday morning. On Saturday, the weather was perfect. I could not wait to go out for a long, beautiful run. Starting with a REALLY easy jog, I headed down the road. Only minutes later, I was trying hard not to succumb to walking. But it was over. My run was not going to happen. My hip was so tight that I could barely put weight on it. Limping home, I made cornbread and spent the rest of the evening watching the Olympics and eating cornbread (3/4's of the pan by myself) and chili with Finley.


Honestly, I felt like a failure, but deep inside, I knew I had made the right decision. As an athlete, it is so hard to believe that it is okay to rest, but it is. I would rather miss an entire weekend of CRUCIAL workouts than miss my actual race. So for now I am swallowing my pride, refusing to check my Strava stats and sitting on an ice pack until I can go see Jason and have him fix me.

Look at me! I've become a smart athlete! Maybe a losing athlete, but at least I'm smart... I hope.







Thursday, January 16, 2014

Oh, Baby, You're A Classic

In the winter of 2007, I was living in a small town called Estes Park, Colorado. My boyfriend at the time came out to visit me and arrived the day before the new Fall Out Boy album Infinity on High arrived in stores. Zach (the boyfriend) was an avid musician who was inspired predominately by the works of Fall Out Boy. He and I were listening to FOB even before My Heart Will Always Be The B-Side To My Tongue came out in 2004. We purchased the CD at a Starbucks of all places and listened to it on repeat for the next 6 days. And when I say we listened to it on repeat, I mean we listened to it on repeat on a road trip that lasted 48 hours. Fall Out Boy for 48 hours. Put that CD on seven years later and I still know EVERY. SINGLE. LYRIC. Thank God for that. Best album ever!

I will always be a Fall Out Boy fan. They have gotten a little strange on their latest album. No longer do they struggle to fill the room at a small local venue; these days, tickets to their shows are hundreds of dollars. Believe me, I know: I have been researching tickets for the past three years. I remember when I saw them with 26 other people in the room; it felt more like a house party than a show.

I digress...

A week ago, I asked my friends to suggest names for my new bike, a Felt DA4. Great names were suggested: Tron, My Man, White Lightning, The Chain Smoker and Polar Vortex, to name a few. Well the tallies are in and the winner is... none of the above.

Being a StarWars fan, DeathStar was a consideration, but after my accident, my mom nixed that name.

I seriously considered naming him "My A Game" because I could say things like "Yeah, I'm going to Wildflower this year. And I'm bringing My A Game!" My name is Ashlee... starts with an A... clever, right?

Making myself appear incredibly dorky by saying shiz like that just sounded awesome, so I decided to take that route, but "My A Game" was just too much of a mouthful.

Why in the world did she include that Fall Out Boy story when obviously it has nothing to do with this blog post?!

Oh, right! Fall Out Boy! Thanks for reminding me.

The lovely boys of FOB have a song called She's My Winona. The chorus goes:

Daddy said you gotta show the world the thunder
Whoa the thunder

Thunder. There is a mighty power behind a bolt of thunder...Plus, if I name my bike "The Thunder", he already has a theme song. SOLD.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to The Thunder (Please play theme song while looking at my new boyfriend with ooo's and aww's):







Friday, December 27, 2013

HOW TO DATE A TRIATHLETE/MARATHON RUNNER/ENDURANCE JUNKIE.

I stumbled upon this post and found myself nodding my head with every point made by the author. This is me in a nutshell. I am so glad I am not alone in this.

Enjoy!

Also, blast from the past: http://ashleetrisharder.blogspot.com/2013/04/asking-triathlete-on-date.html





HOW TO DATE A TRIATHLETE/MARATHON RUNNER/ENDURANCE JUNKIE.


1. Don’t.
Just kidding. In fact, endurance junkies are some of the most quality people around. All of those hours spent alone with ourselves in the meditative realm ofZone 2 really forces us to think about things like who we are, what we believe in, the meaning of life, what we’re going to eat immediately when we get home, and other critical themes.
But it’s not as simple as run, rinse, repeat. Being a true endurance junkie is a lifestyle. It’s a state of mind. For many of us, training makes us better people every day. It serves us in ways other people or experiences have not or cannot. And so we find ourselves caught up in a committed relationship, legs intertwined with the goddess of multisport.
As I once (perhaps mistakenly) told a past boyfriend: “You may be my boyfriend, but triathlon is my husband.”
Needless to say, this did not go over very well. I was mostly kidding, but I think we both knew it to largely be true. He replied with some snarky comment about “time spent in the saddle,” which I actually recall being quite clever and pun-ny.
This past summer and fall, in an attempt to unearth just what it is that makes us endurance junkies so “un-datable,” I conducted a rather unscientific social experiment: I went on 21 dates in 21 weeks, with 21 non-endurance athletes (a.k.a. “normal people”). Here’s what I discovered to be the top most misunderstood aspects of the endurance junkie’s lifestyle.
1. Most of us are introverts. Sure, we may be the life of the party on the rare occasions we are out socializing. We may seem extroverted because of our tendency to be outgoing when others are around. But don’t be fooled. Usually that’s just the endorphins talking. Or the fact that eventually, we need to balance out our 90% alone time with some human contact. Either way, just be prepared for someone who likes to be a bit of a lone wolf. It takes a certain type to spend hours alone running and cycling, and that certain type usually has a penchant for solitude that may be disturbing to others.
2. Please, please, please don’t make us stay out late with you. Our idea of “going out” involves literally going outdoors on foot or bicycle, preferably in the wee hours of Saturday morning when the rest of the world is sleeping off an impending hangover. If you make us stay out late with you at some sub-par Mexican restaurant, and hence compromise the quality or timing of our planned weekend long run/ride, we will resent you. And eat all the chips and salsa without regard for the others at the table. Consider yourself warned.
3. We WILL spend more time swimming, biking, and running, than with you.Sorry. It’s not that we don’t like you, it’s just that, well, we like SBR better.
4. Vacations, dates, and trips centered around doing something physical and rugged are incredibly hot. Especially if you can keep up/only if you can keep up.
5. Please don’t make comments about our choice of dress. We got up at 3:30 am and ran 54 miles today, so yes, it’s gonna be another sweatpants day.
6. Please don’t make comments about the state of our feet, or the strange rashes on our backs and butts. Listen, I’ve been working on those calluses for years. And brush burn can happen to the best of us. It’s a badge of honor. Now hand me my body butter.
7. It’s really, honestly, seriously not about the bike. Some multisport “hobbyists”, as I like to call them, are really just into gear: flashy bikes, fancy moisture-wicking apparel, gravity-defying running shoes. I think those folks are in the minority though. Really, for most of us, it’s about the process. The bike is just a vehicle for personal growth and change.
8. …but if you HAVE to give us a gift, give us a bike! Okay, maybe not a bike (has anyone looked at the price tags on those things these days? Insane!), but something we can use to make ourselves more comfortable, efficient, and/or entertained while slogging it out there. As they say, carbon fiber is a girl’s best friend. Or is it only me who says that? Meh.
9. We probably finished off that entire box of cereal. SORRY. It takes a lot of fuel to power through several hours of cardio exercise every day. Or at least, so we tell ourselves. If you bring it to our attention that downing an entire box of Product 19 in a day is gross, we will feel sad, misunderstood and self conscious. So just don’t go there.
10. No run = cranky + moody. I once saw a t-shirt at a local running shop that had the words “NO RUN = CRANKY + MOODY” printed on it in large block print. I felt relieved that clearly, I was not the only one to have experienced this phenomenon. Now where can I find a cute guy sporting said shirt?
11. We’re geeks for numbers. A lot of triathlon lingo is centered around numbers, figures, and calculations. Do we expect you to understand when we toss around terms like “max cadence,” “wattage,” “millimeter offset,” and “Yasso 800s“? Yes, yes we do.
12. Yes, we are capable of love. We just show it differently. Here’s my theory, which is loosely based on my associations with triathlete and marathoning friends over the years: we just have a different sense of relativity, slightly different tolerance for solitude and independence, and frequently a radically different neurohormonal profile, than the general populous. We like our friends to be people who understand the value of setting personal goals and doggedly going after them, with perhaps seeming disregard for other aspects of life. Needless to say, this typically isn’t considered very socially acceptable; women especially are deemed neglectful if they choose to pursue “hobbies” outside of family and even career. 
The thing about triathletes and endurance athletes is that many of us have rediscovered the power of positive motivation, encouragement, and coaching in our adult lives. The paradigm of pushing through personal boundaries to shatter past records and achieve new, previously unattainable goals is something many of us move away from after we graduate from high school sports teams. This lens–one of encouragement, big dreaming, and distinctive goal-setting–is the one through which we understand how to show love and affection. If one of my friends mentions a goal she’s been entertaining, you sure as hell bet I’ll be on her case about realizing that goal and surpassing it. This comes off as annoying to some, but more often than not I’ve been met with appreciation.
Perhaps most people don’t get enough of this on a regular basis. When was the last time you heard someone say something like, “I believe in you,” “You can do anything you set your mind to,” or “Dream big”? These are things we were liberally showered with as children, but such encouragement and belief in oneself falls by the wayside as we grow up and hide away behind our desk jobs. This makes me sad.
I think people who are drawn to things like endurance sports are people who have recognized that realistically, only a finite amount of achievement and goal realization is possible in the “real world”. The concept of the entirely self-made man or woman is a thing of the past, as our careers and personal lives function more at the whim of the economy, our happenstance social network, and random obstacles that arise than our education and persistence. No longer does good, honest hard work necessarily translate into getting where one wants to be.
With triathlon, the payback is reliably and predictably related to the amount of work that’s put into it. Working hard = progress, and progress = personal growth and improvement. We crazy endurance junkies have found an arena in which one of the most basic human needs is not only attainable, it’s incredibly accessible. Maybe we’re not so crazy, after all?
In summary: how to date a triathlete:
-Dream big
-Stock up on Product 19.
The end.