Training for a Triathlon Half-Ironman

A 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike ride, a 13.1 mile run. You wonder what I was thinking when I registered for this event, and the truth is – I’m not entirely sure. I do know that I clicked the “register” button after having a glass of wine (or two) with my family on a trip home to Chicago in December. Sometimes we need a little push from behind or a bottle to take that next step. I embraced that little nudge and clicked the “register” button while my mother sat quietly next to me while shaking her head.

I woke up the next day realizing that not only had I just put another couple hundred bucks on my already well-used credit card, but I committed to doing a half-Ironman! Keep in mind, I’m not afraid of a challenge nor am I afraid of spending hours training for an event, it’s just that, well, that’s a BIG challenge and a LOT of training. At least I was smart enough to allow myself enough time to prepare. You know to get things like a swimsuit and cycling shoes and maybe one of those super tight, hot triathlon onesies. It’s all about how you look, not how you feel, right?

The race is August 2nd in Benton Harbor, Michigan. I chose that location in hopes of racing in 115 degree weather and, if I’m really lucky, the humidity will be at 95%, which will be ideal for the mosquitoes to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. I also knew that picking a race as close to Chicago as possible would be my only hope of getting the family to watch me crawl across the finish line. Let’s be honest, I’m going to need someone there to carry me to the car and spoon-feed me ice cream after the race. I’m just hoping they, too, are training for this.

I invite you to read my stories about the rest of this journey into “crazyland” right here in the Women’s Adventure blog. I’m heading into my fifth month of training and it’s been entertaining to say the least. I can’t say that I’ll be a resource for tips on how to do this best, but I can promise not take myself too seriously and be open with you about all the embarrassing moves I make!

(Editor’s Note:  Kristin is able to send us her blog entries when she comes to a town with internet access.  As a result, the entries are published as they are received rather than on the day the events actually took place.)

On May 11th my Aunt, Grandmother, and cousin drove me to the Mexican border and at 6:30 I turned north and began my walk to Canada. The three of them hiked the first couple of miles with me and it was strange to be standing there alone in the wilderness when they turned back. I have been planning for this adventure for such a long time I still cannot believe that it is really happening. Even now, seven days into the trip, I have to stop and think “Wow, I am really here, this is really happening.”

The desert in the morning is perfect. Cool and full of life. It is only the first week of my hike and I have already seen three hummingbirds, a horny toad and a bobcat. Unfortunately, the cool weather of the mornings does not last very long. You can see dawn’s ribbon of light approaching long before it hits. It may be beautiful, but it is a reminder of the heat to come. I have been trying to get as many miles in during the mornings as possible. I usually start walking at around 5:30 after a quick breakfast, stop at noon for a siesta and set up camp at 7.

There have not been a lot of people out on the trail and after the first two days of my hike I did not see a single person for the next 48 hours. It is nice to have the trail to myself but I am definitely looking forward to catching up to other thru-hikers who started earlier than me. The trail has been so beautiful and the views so varied that there is no opportunity for boredom. I am so excited to see what is around the next corner that I have to force myself to rest when it is time to take a break.

Two days ago I passed through what is called Scissors Crossing, a notoriously hot and exposed piece of desert. Even by eight thirty the sun was so brutal, I felt the need to take out the umbrella I keep in my pack so that I could walk under a little bit of shade. As I was approaching the road, I saw a wooden structure off to my left with a sign on it that read “Welcome PCT 2008 hikers.” It was filled to the brim with gallon jugs of water. After three days of extreme heat, it was pretty much the most beautiful thing you could have put before me. If I hadn’t been so tired I probably would have jumped up and down.

Yesterday afternoon I made it to Warner Springs (mile 110) and tonight I will be heading back out onto the trail. I feel safe and happy and cannot wait to see what lies ahead.

I hear mewing. I’m alone on a trail with my two twenty-five pound dogs who haven’t heard it yet. I stop. Listen. Definitely mewing. Coming from behind some thick brush about 50 meters from me. I actually do think for a split second that I might go investigate. But the moment passes.

Three days prior, I sat on the couch in my living room. Call it intuition or some other type of sixth sense, but I glanced out the window toward the Flatirons and caught sight of a mountain lion racing downhill. By the time I’d grabbed binoculars, he was way gone. It’s a blessing to see a mountain lion. A rare occurrence.

The next day, I read in the paper that a 2-year old male mountain lion had been tranquilized, collared, and moved from someone’s backyard two blocks way and back into the wild where he belonged. That lion was a male, though. Not likely to be the one raising the cubs I hear. My pups and I move on before anyone else sees us and finds out our secret. No, I won’t tell the division of wildlife. I don’t want the lion and her cubs disturbed. Yes, she’s chosen a high-traffic area to nurse her cubs. But, she’s not bothering anyone. And, I chose to run there. I could have run on the pavement, down Sixth street, to the river.

Later that same afternoon, I’m weeding in front of my house. A ranger pulls up his truck, gets out, and trains his binoculars up the hill. I’m thinking someone else has heard the mewing. Someone called the cavalry. I’m relieved when he drives away. I check the paper in the morning to see if any lions and cubs have been tagged and moved or euthanized. Nothing but a short blurb about two men who simultaneously tasered each other at a bar over the weekend. The lion can relax for a while. Law enforcement is busy with more important things in Boulder.
-Michelle