Just under 600 isn't too shabby

You win some, you lose some. In my case, the scales tip toward the losing side when it comes to racing.

However, they easily tip toward the winning side when it comes to stepping out the front door, trying something new and roughing it out in a new challenge.

I ran my first half marathon Sunday, a challenge I assumed I would undertake someday as I've crept into the welcoming world of triathlons and endurance running. I had no idea that it would would be so much fun, though!

I had two goals: 1) to finish the race and 2) to come in around 2:45. I met my first goal and came in at 2:48 so I consider goal #2 met.

I placed 7360/7944 overall and came in 695/752 in my age group. I placed above 584 people, but we all still won over those who never started. Great job, fellow half-marathoners!

I got there 1.5 hours early, taking a 15-minute nap before walking the eight blocks to the start line. Where I parked put me right by the finish line. I figured it would be easier to walk eight blocks before the race than after the race. I was actually able to reserve a parking spot online the night before so that was a very nice option to have.

They had us separated into four separate corrals based on time. I was in corral three. It took five minutes to reach the timing mat after the gun went off.

What a fun start. I was surrounded by not a few dozen people like in a triathlon, but by 15 thousand people. There existed both an energy and a solace that I found in that moment.

I had been concerned about a pulled muscle behind my knee that's been giving me pause the last couple weeks, a strain in the ball of my feet and about my hamstrings and glutes really cramping up toward the end.

I never suffered the first two and my hamstrings and glutes didn't wait until the end to start hurting. I would say that happened around mile 2! Mile 2! They did get a little worse toward the middle of the race, then the pain stabilized for several miles, only escalating the last couple miles.

I figured I could run slowly with the pain or quicken my pace and allow the music to help with that. I chose the latter...and it was fun starting to pass people.

I had to stop and stretch at least 10 times to help with the soreness, though. I would say that added a good five minutes to my time.

I was very proud that I didn't walk hardly at all. The only times I walked were when I was grabbing a drink from my Fuel Belt and I did walk two to three minutes of mile 11 as my legs started hurting more and as I prepared to quicken back up for miles 12 and 13.

They didn't have markers at every mile and I'm so glad of that, or at least none that I could see. It would have been depressing if I had. (Yes, I'm the girl on the treadmill who covers the clock with her towel.) I was just a little more than an hour into it and, given my pace up to that point, figured I'd be coming up on mile 6 soon. The next mile marker read "Mile 5". Mile 5? Are you kidding me? I was excited about being almost halfway there. That sucked.

However, later on I figured I was coming up on mile 8 and the next mile marker read "Mile 9" so it balanced out.

As I finished mile 11 and embarked upon mile 12, that officially became the longest run of my life. I'd only gone 11 miles in training and it had only been once.

I flipped through my iPod to find some fast songs to help get me through the last bit. I couldn't believe that in a few minutes I was going to have completed a half marathon!

There had been live bands stationed all throughout the race and hundreds of spectators stood by to cheer us on. I didn't know any of them. It didn't matter.

When I got to that last say quarter or half mile, there must have been thousands of people along that finish section. That was super, super energizing. I picked up my pace and starting passing people, realizing that each of those people just a few steps in front of me would turn into numbers in the final results that I'd rather see behind not in front of me.

I crossed the finish line and I officially became a half-marathoner. There were several individuals handing out the finishers' medals. I chose the guy wearing military clothing to hand me my medal, just so I could thank him for his service.

The run is usually my best in a triathlon, so I'm a little disappointed that I was a complete BOPer, but I've slowed down with my pace quite a bit this year for some reason.

However, as a friend reminded me, there are fewer triathletes in the world than runners, so I'm choosing to take that to the bank. Thanks for those words, Alice.

Also, I just finished a half marathon and ran the entire thing. I'm going to give myself a break.

What a production! That event was a massive, massive undertaking and these guys were on the ball. I can't wait for next year! I'd had a question about packet pickup about a week before race day. I e-mailed the coordinator and the RD actually e-mailed me back...within a couple hours. Very impressive.

I suppose I can stick that 13.1 sticker on the back of my truck now. In the meantime, I'll just stick it here.

So, a half-mary is my big race of the year

One thing led to another and...and...

...I ended up only doing one triathlon this year! I did do an indoor one in January, but it was in the off season and doesn't count.

I was planning on a few, of course, but my job has really ended up consuming a lot of my time. I'm not complaining a bit, though. I absolutely love my job and the hours I spend devoting to it. It's a trade-off.

I am excited about doing my first half marathon on Sunday. I feel prepared and not really all that nervous. That, I suppose is the wonderful part of being a triathlete. All the gear, the transitioning, the disciplines, etc. can not only consume your thoughts, but also the trunk of your car. Going from three disciplines to one almost feels like a sigh of relief.

I'll be sure to post a race report after the big race.

No shortage of advice from drivers

Partly inspired by a blog post from last year, I wrote this column for one of the papers for which I work. It's about how friendly automobile drivers are to bikers on the road.
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Sometimes I feel like Al Gore reminding us he's an environmentalist when I talk about being a triathlete.

Though my friends may smile and nod their heads, I imagine they must be thinking to themselves, "Oh, boy. Here we go again."

Well, here we go again.

My latest bike ride reminded me of conversations I've had with other triathletes and bikers who occasionally ask me, "Isn't Highland County the worst at being biker friendly?"
I am quick to respond by telling them that I just don't see it that way.

For example, the first time I rode on U.S. 50 out of Hillsboro a couple years ago, a Ford F-150 slowed down to 35 mph as it passed me.

I suddenly noticed a shaking fist appear outside of the passenger side window. It was hard to make out the exact words, but I'm pretty sure I heard, "Good luck with yourself, lady!" It was a nice pick-me-up as I struggled in the grueling 90 degree weather.

And just the other day, the woman driving a red Neon yelled out: "Go straight to..."

To read the rest of the column, click here.

A Montana sky over a Buckeye lake

They say a Montana sky can change at the drop of a hat...but I live in Ohio!

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The tiny ripples in the water glistened underneath the rising sun. An easy breeze blew off the sandy shore.

It was Sunday morning and the day of the inaugural TREK Women's Triathlon in Ohio at Buckeye Lake.

It would be a day that would go down in history as my favorite open water swim in a triathlon. The water temperature was perfect (80), there was no chop and - a smart, smart move on the RD's part - there were several minutes spaced between waves, giving those of us who are slower less of a chance to have to fight off more people as they caught up with us.

Though it had started out sunny and beautiful, it began becoming somewhat overcast by the time I had gotten to mile seven or eight on the bike... and then I felt it. A wet drop on the skin of my arm. "Please, Lord, hold off on that rain. Please, please!"

I didn't mind racing in the rain, but I was very worried about my bags in Transition that contained my cell phone and camera getting soaked through and frying my digital livelihood.

When I got to Transition 2, I just re-situated my belongings, threw an already wet towel over top it all, continued to pray and started my run.

The Lord was clearly answering my prayers with a no. The rain was absolutely not letting up. Acquiescing to the reality that I had done all I could do under the circumstances to protect my electronics, I made the decision to let it go.

I was, at this point, completely soaked, my clothes and ball cap utterly saturated with what had been falling from the sky. So instead of avoiding the water puddles on my route, I jumped in them! What an opportunity to have some extra fun!

I finished my race, passing several women at the very end and was so proud I'd finished another triathlon.

I grabbed my belongings, ate a couple peanut butter sandwiches under a tent and walked the one mile trek back to my truck - in the pouring rain.

Ten minutes later, as I was driving west, the rain suddenly stopped and the blue sky reappeared.

Of course it did.

A little more action, please

To admit that I've, er, slacked on my training the last few months is difficult. Between adjusting to a new work schedule and dealing with the offseason blues, I've let myself go.

It had been a couple months since I'd gone swimming...and a couple months before that...and, yet again, a couple months before that.

About 75 yards into my swim this morning, it hit me like a ton of bricks how having not swum these last few months had begun to really take a toll on me.

I thought, "Well, I was shooting for a thousand yards, but I'll be lucky to pull out 200!" It was around 200, actually, where I began to feel better. My energy was up and I was able to get to 700. I could have gone further, but I realized that starting so hard out of the gate would not be a good idea so I cut myself off.

I'm disappointed that my training had subsided, but the lemonade out of lemons story is that seeing myself struggle so hard with something that used to come with such ease, forced me to realize just how in shape I was and how far I have come.

So, here's to being thankful for a bad period in my training, because it will, I'm sure, renew my current and future training for the rest of the season.