When you watch an event like the Boston Marathon, or the Kona Ironman competition, most people have one of two reactions: A) I would not do that in a million years, those people are not right in the head, or B) That is so impressive and inspiring, I would love to be able to do that. There's actually a subset of the B category (let's call them C's), people who say "I'm going to do that!" and of that C subset there is an even smaller group (call them x's? X-men and X-women) those that actually make good on the promise, to themselves and anybody who will listen to their plans and either pooh-pooh them (see category A above) or jump on their bandwagon* and push them to realize their dreams.
*Need a bandwagon member, see Liz Phillipps.
"You've got this!" -Liz
Only she's more the bandwagoneer, the person who will drive this train to its destination, on time and under budget. Need a training partner? Liz is your woman. Need somebody to help you stay on a strict nutrition programme, somebody who will follow that programme with you just because knowing you're not fighting this battle alone is sometimes what it takes to get through a long Wednesday in February? Liz will do that. Need a pep talk from someone who will make you feel good about your goals, and reassure you that you can hit them without being patronizing or semi-sincere about it? Well that happens to be Liz's specialty. Without fail, when I'm around Liz I'm left feeling sad for people who don't know her. Everybody needs a Liz.
The actual "I should do that" (still hovering between the 'B' and 'C' groups) conversation took place some time in the Fall 2012 but first there was the matter of Jennifer's knee that started hurting in the Summer of 2010 (pinched meniscus from riding a recumbent bicycle was the long distance, phone-a-friend diagnosis offered my physical therapist buddy, Brent) and had been flaring up intermittently ever since. It got seriously sore just as she realized that she loved (loved) running (this would be around Turkey Trot Time 2012). An uncooperative knee is a non-starter for a triathlete which brought us to:
Special thanks to the crew at RPT (Greg, Jason, Scott et al) who took Jenn on as a patient. They didn't accept our insurance but treated her as a professional courtesy to me. Jenn went twice a week for several months, iced her knee, exercised, stretched, strengthened and became such a fixture in their clinic that she considered applying for a job as a therapy tech. She loved the therapists but mostly she loved the patients who were going through difficult re-habs, loved hearing their stories and their struggles, loved watching them progress and overcome them.
But it wasn't until she started attending a regular Yoga class
That her knee finally came around and let her train the way she would need to train. But training* is only part of the equation, a vitally important part to be sure, but there are other, less tangible things that a forty-two year old mother of four needs if she is going to be successful.
*and let's point out right here that there is 'training' and then there's Training, and depending on the particular event and your desired result, the little 't' training might be enough ... but we're not talking about just any event or any trainee. If Jenn was going to do this she was going all in. I'll admit that though I've been married to her for twenty one years I didn't anticipate what actually transpired, the level of her commitment, her focus, her intensity, her dedication; it was a sight to behold. It inspired many people, not just me.
She needs a supportive family. While there won't be real neglect per se, things will be neglected. There are going to be anywhere from ten to twelve hours between Monday and Saturday dedicated just to exercising. I have yet to meet any stay at home mom who complains that she has a dozen hours a week to spend on discretionary activities and just can't figure out how to fill the time. Making an exhaustive list of all the things Jenn is responsible for on a daily basis would be impossible. In the interest of time and brevity (yeah right, if you've read this blog before you know that pithy is not an adjective anybody has ever used to describe it) let's just say that if she's going to be able to do this she'll need the patience, forbearance and understanding of the group below.
She need fans. The excitement and novelty of saying, I'm going to do a half Ironman Triathlon will only last so long and then you are faced with the reality of what that means. There are going to be hard days ahead, days when you are sore, days when you are tired, days when the activity seems self-indulgent, or (worse) lacking any real merit, days when it feels like (to borrow a favourite phrase from Thad 'Pickle Juice' Engar) "The Juice just isn't worth the squeeze." It's on those days that you need people around you who believe in you, believe in what you are doing and why you are doing it, people who won't let you give up or back off, just because it's been a hard week, that's part of a hard month, that's tucked in the middle of a hard season. Over the past nine months Jenn has accrued her share of cheerleaders and well-wishers but in the beginning there was me and there was Liz (always Liz). We are your biggest fans!
Me: "You can do this, of course you can. You should do this, I want you to. I want everyone to know what I've learned over the last twenty years: that you are a remarkable, strong, resilient, and talented woman, capable of so much more than most of the people who know you realize. Do it and I will brag about you to anybody who is willing to listen."
Liz: "Oh, did you forget you were awesome? Well then let me remind you. You are! (that is all)."
She needs a plan. This is especially true of Jennifer. You can tell how seriously she takes a project by the number of lists that it engenders. This particular undertaking? It inspired many (many) lists.
Planning lists of workouts, for the month, the week the day with a shadow list of foods and calorie counts to make sure the two matched up.
Each night there were calendar entries (the closest thing to journaling that Jenn has done since I've known her) with re-caps of her workouts for the day and occasional pep-talks to herself like "Felt great. Strong legs. I like long runs!" or "My body is tired." Or my favourite "Eat more vegetables!" written over the last three days of the month of July (those were dark days for the Larsen family).
"So can you eat unhealthily now?" -Mathis (the day after Jenn's half Ironman)
She needs information. At least if she is Jennifer she does. And information she got. Every night before bed she would read her scriptures and then go back to her graduate level, independent study course on fitness. I kept waiting for her to give up and read something for pleasure, she never did. Or, perhaps, this is her new pleasure reading? I cracked more than one of the books on various occasions and felt very much like I was reading a text book, not my thing. But that (and my lack of dietary rigor and adherence to a regimented exercise programme) may be why I finished 38th (out of 50) in my race group and Jenn finished her day at the top of the podium.
Jenn's (other) triple combination. At one point I counted fourteen (fourteen!) books on nutrition, training and fitness strewn about our bedroom, but these are the three to which she most often found herself referring. I think we may now own at least two of them.
She needs an Iron will (or at least half an iron will). That means no excuses. One of the big things that separate the average 'C' subset member and the elite X-people is their ability to set aside all of the reasons, valid or otherwise, not to train. You have to be focused and dedicated. You have to make exercise (within reason) your priority and training your vocation. You have to love it even when you hate it (see track repeats/speed work). Some days you may only be able to love hating it, but you still have to do it.
Which brings us to: Race Day: September 14th, 2013
"All it takes is all you got." -Mark Davis
"I can't believe it's finally here! (finally!)"
I get race day jitters, my baseline heart rate bumps up about twenty beats a minute, my breathing becomes rapid, my lips get tingly, my bladder feels like it's the size of a thimble and my guts tighten (and then threaten in the next second to loosen). It's as predictable as the sunrise but not in any way that is comforting. If Jenn was experiencing any of this she didn't let on. She was as calm as the weather that day (mid-fifties with winds at 2-3 mph a slight chance of precipitation). Only Jenn knows the reason behind her apparent equanimity but my guess is that it was the painstaking preparation (even coming to this very spot two months ago for a trial swim & ride but alas no trial run) and the knowledge of how she trained and what she is capable of that has her grinning* The actual event had the feeling of taking a final exam when you know the material intimately and just need to take the test already and move on to the next chapter in your personal saga.
*like a fool in her words, something she did so much she gave herself a smile-headache, never heard of that but I got to be a firsthand witness of what it looks like and in a word it looked fun, even to somebody who doesn't like running (or swimming for that matter).
Maybe it was the Yoga on the beach (Jenn in [almost] 'Happy Baby' pose)
Jenn getting ink done. Fifty five is her bib number (not her age) That would be on her calf (the big four-two) marked in plane site so her competition can identify and track her ... if they can.
Jenn, waxing operatic about the tragedy of chafing,
Who's ready to to swim a mile (and .2) in this lake? Me!
As the athletes group up for the nautical portion of the event, Jennifer is (literally) bouncing with excitement. I thought she was just trying to keep warm, but no, after a year of meticulous and intense preparation, she's ready to light this candle. The race director counts down from ten to one and ... they're off! And it's at this point that you realize that a triathlon is not a spectator friendly event, never more so than when athletes are swimming. I join the ranks of family, friends and onlookers gazing intently at the watery horizon like the expectant spouses of sailors at sea, watching and waiting for their collective ships to come in. I look at my fellow shoreline supporters and wonder if I'm the only one here humming the the song Brandy* in my mind.
*You're a fine girl (such a fine girl!), what a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my lady is the sea (oo woo woo woo woo woo woo) ...
The swim, Jenn's biggest concern when she signed on to this event, turns out to be the most enjoyable thing she did all day. She was calm, methodical and efficient, she never panicked, never felt scared or in trouble, even when she saw a fish (just one) near the end of her second lap around the two kilometer course. She left the water at about the forty five minute mark, no sharks, no dead bodies, just a nice swim in a cool, clear lake.
Official swim time: 47min 10sec
Swim/bike transition time: 4min 31sec
She sheds the wet suit, rinses the sand from her feet as best she can* dawns her helmet and cycling shoes, eats a potato and it's on to the bike (hooray for the bike!).
*think of trying to get sand off yourself at the end of a day at the beach, now do that in the middle of a competition ... a bucket of water would have been helpful, noted for next time. Wait a minute. There's a next time? (!)
The selling point (in my mind anyway) of the Bear Lake half ironman is the bike portion. The 51* mile route circumnavigates the lake and offers scenery that you really have to experience from the seat of a bike to really appreciate it. Jenn heads west, then North. I hop on my bike and head in the opposite direction, hoping to catch up with her somewhere around the midway point. I said Triathlons are not spectator friendly and that's true, but if you can insinuate yourself via bicycle it becomes much more interesting/entertaining.
*Normal half Ironman cycling distance is 56 miles (or 90 km) but due to permit problems the Bear Lake Brawl can't do a 3 mile 'out and back' at the top of the lake. Jenn's goal was to finish the full (1/2) Ironman in under six hours, with the abbrevated (by ~ 5 miles/8km) course, if she finishes in under 5hrs 45 minutes she can assume she would have finished a full (half) course in under 6 hours.
Jenn gets ~ six hours of grueling physical punishment (served three different ways) I get an early Fall bike ride under perfect skies in an idyllic setting ... hardly seems fair but I manage to make my peace with that fact.
Riding at my liesurely (~ 19 mph on basically flat roads) pace I anticipate meeting up with Jenn at about the 24 mile mark of my ride (I actually see her at about 22.5 miles). What I don't anticipate is how hard it would be to make the turn and track her down. What was a pleasure ride has now become a real workout. I push as hard as I can and curse my ill preparation.* I make a mental list of things I wish I had at this point in my day 1) more water/sports drinks 2) food, any food 3) stronger/fresher legs (still working out the post LOTOJA malaise or so I tell myself) 4) a slower spouse.**
*for this event I've brought ... nothing really. A water bottle and a Zone bar. Actually the Zone bar was Jenn's as is the extra Mojo bar she lends me. It's only been a week since my last race but I'm already completely out of training mode and back to citizen rider: ill-equipped and of average (or below) performance.
** Actually I'm excited for and impressed by Jenn's performance so far. I just wish she wasn't making me work so hard to document it.
Jenn and the only other forty something competition that she hasn't already left (far) behind. They will trade places and track one another for the next 20 (plus) miles.
The Bear Lake Brawl meets the Garden City 3rd ward Deacon's quorum 50 mile ride.
Jenn catches and drops this crew of riders working together like they were a bunch of pre-adolescent boy scouts riding forty pound, $75, Walmart special mtn bikes. Which is exactly what they were, but still. She's taking care of business, just like in training..
Jenn, still wearing the cheese-eating grin that , with the exception of a three mile stretch bug infested road between Bear and Mud Lakes, has been on her face, oh pretty much since she got in the water this morning.
She's having a great ride and really, really enjoying herself. As one of her two biggest fans, this is fun to watch, especially that she's loving the bike. We used to be regular ride partners but as she's trained for this three headed monster they call a triathlon, my rides have been increasingly solitary events. At my pre-LoToJa bike tune-up at Thad's house (aka pickle juice, a-aka 'the wrench') I complained to him about Jenn's extra-curricular activities away from the bike. He responded with "Well check out her guns*, it's obviously working for her." He's right of course, Jenn's transition from 'C' subset individual to X-woman has been both mentally and physically transforming. The results are visually striking.
*He was talking about her arms ... pretty sure.
This is Trish, from Tooele. She's a veteran of LoToJa and mulitple Triathlons. She is forty four years old (I would never be so rude as to ask [how gauche] but it says so on her calf) and has a supportive husband who would be here snapping photos of her too if he didn't have to watch the kids. Trish is a Pisces (why she does so well on the swim portion of this event). She likes banana daiquiris and quiet walks on the beach on moonless tropical nights ... OK that last part was made up but the rest of that information is solid. I leap-frogged Jenn so many times on the East side of Bear Lake that it would have seemed impolite to not at least acknowledge her fellow riders. Trish, unlike Jennifer, doesn't mind a bit of chit-chat in the midst of competition.
Eventually the two forty somethings stop catching and dropping each other and ride out the last 10 miles side by side.
Back to the transition zone and event number three.
Results:
Bike: 2hrs 46min 26 sec (18.4 mph avg speed)
Bike/Run transition: 3min 14sec
As she leaves the bike/run transition she is still twenty minutes ahead of her sub six hour goal. Now all she has to do is run a half marathon.
"Let the beauty we love be what we do." - Rumi
This is the event Jenn has looked forward to the most. Most of her best days in training, the ones that left her smiling and ebullient, involved long runs on open roads under broad, cloud filled skies. Great news, that's exactly what she has coming up.
I promise when she started this day there was a fifty five on that shoulder but sixty miles of water, wind and road have left there mark, or rather they have erased the mark.
I figured the bike would be the photo-friendly portion of this day and that I would take photos of the run just to make Jenn happy but these picturesque country roads, under constantly shifting skies almost made me want to go for a run myself (almost).
A shout out for the Bear Lake Brawl-unteers. They were out in force and were almost to a person excited encouraging and friendly. A few even came up with their own cheer "G-o-o-d J-o-b, good job!" This particular station sent a forward guard down the road to take requests (energy gels, shot blocks, power bars ... a pedicure perhaps?) and then shouted them to the table crew to have it ready. I got concerned when I all I saw Jenn take on was water. Not eating enough is a rookie mistake (one that I managed to make well past the novice phase of my training and competing) I should have known better like, Jenn is going to pull a game-day gaff after all the preparation ... please. Her pockets are filled with honey.
It's a training tip she got from Liz (way to go Liz) who got it from a fitness blog (let's hear it for bloggers. Yay!), Honey is what has powered Jenn through just about every run longer than ten km this year. We ordered 200 packets from Amazon and I scoffed, figuring we'd never use it all. It's half gone now.
There's a short but steep hill between the six mile marker and the halfway point and I figure if Jenn is going to flag it will be there. I'm beginning to get leg-weary on my bike so I can only imagine how she is feeling at this point, but if she's wearing down she's not making it obvious to me (or her competition).
High five-ing and shouting words of encouragement to the dear friends she met just yesterday. Competition will do that. The shared suffering of an event like this will multiply and intensify the time spent together by a factor of ten.
The now facebook-famous Assassin Photo.
Young the Giant: "My body tells me no-o-o-o!"
Jenn: "Shut up body, you're not in charge anymore."
One of the great things about Jenn's training is how well she knows her body, it's abilities and limitations. She knows what her envelope is, when it's safe to push past it and when she needs to back off to avoid injury. Her brother mentioned in a family e-mail that she's 'A Machine', he had no idea how close to the truth that statement is. Right now the machine is running flawlessly but unlike a machine, Jenn experiences emotions and the emotion she is currently expressing is annoyance bordering on anger. She waves me off again (again) but the sky keeps changing and Jenn keeps being amazing ...
So I take to hiding behind things to continue documenting her Epic (and yes, this day qualifies for that now overused adjective in every sense) event.
I finally give up and pedal back to the transition zone/finish line. By the time I load my bike in the van it's 1:35. At her current pace I figure Jenn will be finishing right around 1:45.
"Strength does not come from physical capacity but from indomitable will." -Mahatma Gandhi
I say this as though Jenn's finishing this race and doing so in her predicted time is a foregone conclusion, which of course it is not. So much can happen in a race this long, she's been out for 5hrs and 15 min of constant physical effort, she has trained her body to do this very thing but (per Jennifer) these last 3.1/miles/5km were the hardest she has ever experienced in all her training. All the physical aches, the complaining quads, the exhausted calves, the cramping intercostal muscles, the burning lungs all in unison make clear that it's quitting time, and the more you ignore them, the more stridently they argue their case. It's at this point that you realize that being physically strong is not enough, the battle for these last precious miles will be fought not in the muscles of your legs or the now increasingly difficult to control breathing of your lungs, but rather between your ears and in your heart. It's mental strength that will win the day. If you haven't been conditioning your mind, your thoughts, your will, this is when you will back down, give in, give up. It's now that Jenn draws on the inner strength of every cold-weather, rainy day workout, every tedious, repetitive lap in the pool, every hungry night on the couch when she just wanted nothing more than to make a batch of brownies and eat the entire pan (but somehow resisted). She owes these last five kilometers to all those days of privation and sacrifice, to all those who in ways big and small, sacrificed along with her, to those who cheered her on and never doubted her, she owes it to the last year of dedicated effort, to these last 5 hrs of near flawless performance but most of all she owes it to herself to finish this thing and finish it strong, without regrets, without any 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' thoughts that will plague her and tarnish an otherwise shining moment. So she tucks her head, grits her teeth and pushes on to the finish.
Meanwhile (back at the ranch) I grab Jenn's victory beverage, some fresh fruit and go to spot where Jenn has worked for nearly six hours on water, wheel and foot, to arrive. My journey to this point has been considerably easier than hers but she has worked hard enough all day (and for the last 300 days) to make me exhausted along with her. Wherever she is, she's ready for this to be over. I am too.
I don't have to wait long, within five minutes I see the now familiar pink-black Zoot suit entering the clearing and circling the final stretch roundabout. I yell her name, loud as I can but that's all I can muster, everything else gets kind of caught in my throat, I find I'm getting choked up just watching her finish what can only be described as her quest. So much has gone into this one moment, it's hard to believe it's finally here.
Results:
Run: 2hrs 1min 20sec (9:18 pace)
Total time: 5hrs 42 min 43sec
"I did it!"
Jenn sits and between bites of cantaloupe and sips of victory chocolate milk, she sobs. She sobs because it's finally over and right now that is both the most ecstatically wonderful and devastatingly sad fact in the entire world. She wants to jump for joy and collapse in a heap of despair at the same time. Everything is too big, too intense, too much. She has so much to say, but her mouth won't work right so instead she sobs ... and laughs ... and sobs. I want to say something, tell her how proud I am, how what she has done has been so inspiring to me and to so many others, how she can do hard, hard things but all of that seems small and trite, so I just shut up and sit with her and absorb the tragic euphoria of it all.
Normally this is the point where we would pack up and go. If we leave by 4 pm we will get back just in time for the adult session of Stake conference (Jenn's sister and husband will be attending with us and attending the victory celebration at our favorite restaurant afterwards). We don't want to be late for that but in the three years they have done a half ironman distance in this event there have been no forty something women who have finished under six hours. It seems very likely Jenn will be on the podium in some capacity and we're not leaving till we find out.
Time enough to put on the once disregarded but now highly coveted, cherry tomato red race shirt
and welcome back our friend Trish (wish we could mix her up a victory daiquiri).
Sure enough, Jenn is on the podium. Top spot in fact for the women's forty-forty five age group (and woman overall, only 13 minutes behind third place). Upon learning that last fact, Jennifer immediately begins critiquing her transitions, her bathroom breaks, the fact she walked through water stations instead of running.
Of course she did, it's as reflexive as being tapped on your patellar tendon. You can't help yourself.
Now we pack up (fr'illz this time) and Jenn somehow musters the strength to hold her bike over her head. Hey, if you've got that kind of energy why didn't you ... nevermind.
That night at Stake conference, unsuspecting and uninformed friends casually ask innocuous questions like "How are you doing?' "What's new?" To which Jenn has to stifle the impulse to break down in sobs again and ask them in return "You don't know, do you? Of course you don't, how could you?" Everything has changed and yet nobody knows, nobody suspects a thing ...
Is this what it's like to go through labor? Because I feel about as helpless and superfluous as I did when Jenn had Elaine naturally. What to say, what to do? Nothing, just keep smiling and offering something cold to drink.
To the Victor the Spoils
(Bombay House)
Despite the fact that her day started 18 hours ago and included levels of physical exertion only experienced in birthing our children (see above) Jenn manages to look as bright and Lovely as the tikka masala on her plate. And like the spicy Indian food, there's a heat and a kick hiding beneath Jenn's pleasant features that you wouldn't suspect if you never got past the superficial appearances. She is a strong woman, powerful even. I've said before that I've stopped being surprised by her, if she thinks she can do it (and even when she thinks she can't) she probably can. Today was as close to incredulous as I've been by her accomplishments in a long, long time.
Kudos to you Jennifer.
And so, with that, we bid summer 2013 adieu. It's been quite a ride. We had big plans, high hopes and lofty goals and somehow managed to overshoot them all. It's been fun and tedious, hard and memorable, challenging and rewarding.
Thanks to everybody who shared it with us.
I was cut out of
stone
And carved with a blade
Head down with all of my hardships
There’s nothing too strong
That I can't face
Don’t stop ‘till you finally have it
It should be more like a habit
-The Dangerous Summer
