Practice

In the summers, many of our weekends are filled with dog agility trials, triathlons, trail races, and camping trips.  In winter, the competitive season eases up a bit – we still have trials once or twice a month, and the occasional winter race, but the schedule itself isn’t quite as packed.

In theory.  In actuality, we’ve been going non-stop since the new year, planning for the season ahead of us, setting goals for ourselves and the dogs, and starting to do the work we need to do to get there.

Admittedly, we have a lot of interests.  And we joke that life in our house is like a military operation, with a packed schedule of what we have to do, and where we have to be, when.  We are all Border Collies at heart in our household after all.

This winter, I decided to finally make the commitment to improve my swimming technique.  It was clear that after my initial improvement in my first couple years of triathlon, I was no longer getting faster doing what I was doing, and remained a confident, but middle-of-the-pack, swimmer.  Fast swimming relies so much on good form, and while I understood the theory of proper technique, I couldn’t identify what I was doing right or wrong.  I needed coaching if I wanted to improve.

The swimming leg of a triathlon is almost ridiculously short in comparison to the other two legs.  The majority of your time is typically spent on the bike, then the run.  But to become a good swimmer can be a considerable investment of time and effort.  Consequently, a certain percentage of triathletes seem to take the opinion that as long as they know they are strong enough to not drown out there, that is good enough.  And, for some, maybe there’s a slight argument to that.  Those of us who are strong on the bike do like to joke about “fishing,” or chasing the fast swimmers down on the bike leg, which often gives us ample time to do so.

But the thing was, if I’m going to do something, I like to do it well.  I don’t expect to be perfect and master every new activity I try.  I’m not really aiming for agility World Team, or winning the local triathlon. But if I’m interested enough to spend my time doing something, I want to do the best job I can, given the time and resources I have available to invest in it, and whatever genetics has given me to work with.

So this winter, our schedule has consisted of two nights a week of swim conditioning class, two nights a week of dog training classes, bi-weekly swim coaching sessions, and now monthly tri-focused swim clinics.

Although I like to do things well, historically I have been quite resistant to taking instruction or feedback.  In the past couple years, I have tried to really work on this – to fight the voice that wants to argue with or defend myself to an instructor who is giving me constructive feedback.  Instead, I listen, consider the information, give what they are suggesting a try, and decide how it is working for me. 

A recent example:  I was at a “stitch and bitch” knitting circle earlier this winter and was doing Fair Isle color work on a hat, which is not something I do a whole lot of.  A much more experienced knitter noticed that I was doing something wrong, and pointed it out to me.  In the past, I might have been annoyed and ignored the advice, coming up with some reason in my head to justify the way I was doing it, but I had to admit I knew she was right and I was being lazy in not bothering to learn a particular technique.  Instead, I asked her if she could show me what I should do, and she taught me the correct technique in seconds.  The hat might have been a stretched-out disaster otherwise, but instead it turned out pretty cool, if I don’t say so myself. 

Since making this change, I’ve been noticing how many other people also struggle with feedback.  I’m amazed to watch people spend considerable amounts of money on classes only to argue with and ignore the instruction of people who are well-qualified to help.  These people never improve and then wonder why.  They refuse to try new approaches, and state their conviction that “That won’t work for me/my dog” with no real justification of why not.

Certainly, it is important to pick your teachers wisely, and one always needs to be the judge of what is best for yourself, for your dog, for your ultimate goals, etc.  But considering that you have done your research well in selecting your instructors, and that there are no physical, safety, or ethical concerns in following their advice, I’ve discovered that letting go of ego can really open up your experiences and bring about new successes.

So far, this has been a very productive winter.  I’ve taken 10 seconds off of my 50 yard swim time already.  And I am getting closer to being able to execute a flip turn without somersaulting around like a drowning drunk person.  I’m delighted with how Cadence’s classes have been coming along – he is more focused on me and on the task at hand, is getting more able to deal with distraction, and he has been showing me some really nice things that make me pleased with all the time I’ve been spending just on foundation work.  Django is continuing to please me with his renewed drive and enthusiasm for agility.  It is obvious that taking the time this past year to train and work within a consistent handling system has given him new confidence, as he no longer needs to make guesses about what I want him to do. 

Do I follow every bit of instruction given to me?  Heck, no.  Sometimes I’m just too lazy, too reluctant to give up bad habits, or I have found that something else really does work better for me or my dog’s particular situation.  And I still feel resistance rising in me when I’m hearing something I don’t want to hear, or learning that something I thought I did well actually needs improvement.  But I’m learning to bite my tongue, shut up, give something a try, and see where it gets me, because often it is right where I wanted to be.

This winter, I have been grateful for the good instruction that has been available to me, and to the continual opportunities I have to learn new things.

The “Off” Season

This winter, we decided to fit in another activity in the midst of our busy schedule of dog training and agility classes.  In an effort to finally improve our swim technique and speed, we signed up for a Swim Conditioning class two nights a week through the end of April.  Which means that for two hours a week, a perfectly-nice-seeming young man designs ever-creative ways of making us suffer in the water.  This is kind of how it feels:

Except Cadence is actually having a blast here.  He is not troubled by the flaws in his technique, but he isn’t competing in any tris this season either.  Plus he doesn’t have someone shouting “GO!” at him from the dry safety of the pool deck the whole time.

Honestly, we are loving it also, while acknowledging that we have a strange idea of fun. 

Wait, isn’t this supposed to be a blog about dog training?

So what is with all these posts about races and running?

To me, my two loves of dog agility and outdoor sports have a lot of similarities.  First and foremost, both are a lot of fun.  They provide us with opportunities to get outdoors, keep busy, spend time with friends, dogs and each other.  Beyond that though, both teach one about setting goals, developing and sticking to plans, remaining committed, challenging oneself, learning new things, and staying focused.  They teach you about the importance of consistency and criteria.  And every step on the path, every little achievement, is highly rewarding when it is well-earned.

After this weekend’s race, we were discussing why this season has gone better for us than past seasons, and why we are finally seeing improvement.  I came up with two theories:

1) I believe I was more consistent in following my training plan this year.  I started my plan early in the spring and stuck to it with very few exceptions.  This involved setting priorities and making some smaller sacrifices in giving up things that were less important in the long run.

2)  I think in the past I started going longer before I put in the basework to go faster.  Long slow distance runs are great, and if you do a lot of them you can run very long distances.  Slowly.  I enjoyed the challenge of longer-course races, but no matter how many miles I was putting in, my speed didn’t change.  This year, I stuck to sprint distance tris, and tortured myself with hill and speed interval workouts and tempo runs, and I finally think I’m starting to see a payoff.

It occurred to me that these two things – consistency and doing the correct foundation work – are also important elements of dog training, and ones that I have been really trying to adhere to better as I raise my next performance dog, Cadence. 

I confess, consistency and sticking to criteria are my Achilles’ heel of dog training.  I think they are for a lot of us, and may be what sets truly great animal trainers apart.  I have my definite weaknesses.  For example, my love for watching Cadence run full out and playing with the other dogs is probably part of the reason I also struggle in recalling him away from dogs – the act of running with the pack is highly reinforcing to him.

I know this is where I falter in many of my day-to-day training misadventures, but I am proud of one thing where I have been quite consistent with Cade.  When I brought him home, I vowed to only raise and train him with positive methods.  I have never been a “correction trainer", but with our first two dogs I can’t say I never used any aversives either.  I am proud that Cadence has not once received a collar correction, has never worn any type of choke or prong collar, has never been sprayed with a water bottle, or received any of the other types of punishment that even many “positive” trainers sometimes fall back on.  OK, I will admit that my voice tone has probably at times been less than patient and perhaps a bit louder than normal volume when asking him to please stop barking in his crate.  I don’t think he finds that particularly punishing though, and Manners Minder has proved much more effective in stopping that behavior.

Then there is groundwork.  While I do struggle with impatience, I have been committed to giving Cadence the foundation training he needs and to taking my time with him before rushing into agility.

I learned that lesson the long way.  Our first dog, Jade, showed incredible promise for agility.  He is probably our best natural athlete and has incredible drive.  As soon as he knew the obstacles, I rushed to enter him in competition.  We were able to qualify and move through the levels with several manic, barely-under-control runs.  Until one trial when his uncontrolled pace caused him to slip on the dogwalk and then, later that weekend, crash into the barrel part of a chute.  He was never the same in a trial after that.  He was not seriously injured, was not afraid of the obstacles afterwards, and would happily play agility in class, at home, or at fun matches, but found competition to be too stressful.  So at his still-young age, I retired what could have been a champion dog had I known better.

Our second dog, Tristan, was bought as a puppy.  He was incredibly biddable with a strong desire to work.  We hit the ground running, and began training young.  He competed in his first flyball tournament on the weekend of his first birthday – the absolute earliest he was eligible to race (a regulation that I have grown to think is ridiculously too young, by the way).  He also went lame that very weekend.  Within the next year, he would have two major knee surgeries.  Our brilliant, eager worker has had a lifetime struggle with injury, and I will forever wonder if it was due to the early pounding on his body.  It may not be – it may have been genes and poor structure or bad luck – but I have become extremely conservative in what exercise I think is appropriate for puppies now.

Because of these lessons, Cade and I have spent our first year together working on fundamentals.  Playing crate games, working on body awareness, doing Susan Salo’s puppy exercises, working nose targets on flat contact trainers, and doing shadow handling exercises.  Only this spring, after he was a year old, did I start gradually introducing him to regular height jumps, higher contact equipment, and started weave pole training at about 15-16 months.  Perhaps he would have been fine regardless, but I am pleased that he has grown into a very sound, strong, healthy dog.

After taking a few agility classes with Cadence, some of our training challenges also became more evident.  Even for a Border Collie, he is drawn to motion to a remarkable degree.  Anything that moves provides a big distraction, and he becomes easily frustrated when he can’t chase.  I discovered quickly that as long as we were running together, my movement could allow him to focus on the task at hand, but if there was a fast dog in the neighboring ring, or if we were waiting our turn to go, I could lose his attention in a heartbeat.

I want to do things right with him.  I don’t want to have to have all the ring gates closed when he runs at a trial, and I don’t want to stand with him barking incessantly in line.  So, agility class is on hold right now as we take a Control Unleashed class.

Honestly, I was a bit self-conscious about taking a CU class.  I think unfortunately it has the image of being for reactive, aggressive, out of control dogs when in fact that is not who it is designed for at all.  Noodle is not any of those things, but he needs to be able to concentrate in the presence of distractions and we needed the opportunity to work on that.  I was happy to find that the class we joined was made up with handlers in the same boat as us – a freestyle competitor whose gregarious lab likes to visit the ring crew during a performance, an obedience prospect who needs a little more attention in the ring, etc. 

So, yeah, CU isn’t as glamorous or exciting as an agility class.  But it is the foundation he needs if he is going to be the agility dog that I know he can be.  And it is going amazingly well.  His focus is improving greatly, and I have high hopes for our eventual return to agility class, and ultimately competition.

Consistency and groundwork are the themes for us right now.  And patience.  And remembering the reward of doing something right will be worth the effort.

Hell Freezes Over, Apparently

Because I brought this home on Saturday:

From a running race, of all things.

After about 14 years of running, completing two marathons, numerous 5Ks and multisport races, and going through who-knows-how-many pairs of running shoes, I still have been hesitant to really consider myself a runner.  When Lowell first got me interested in running with him, I did it mostly for fitness and for the challenge of conquering something that I initially found very difficult.  And unpleasant.  I began to enter 5Ks here and there, just to feel the accomplishment of completing them.  Eventually, since I wasn’t going particularly fast, I became more interested in going long, and trained for and ran (slowly) the Honolulu marathon in 2003 and the Detroit marathon in 2004.  After Detroit, I lost interest in straight running races for a while, and for several years have only entered multisport events such as triathlons or adventure races. 

Though I enjoyed running, I often found it frustrating.  I felt like no matter how I trained, I was not getting any faster.  I considered it my weakest leg of a tri, and developed a strategy to lay it all out on the bike, my strongest event, and then just hope I built enough of a lead that I could hold people off on the run.

In August, Lowell - whose true love is trail running - signed up for the Flower Power 5 mile race at the Run Woodstock event.  I wasn’t sure yet if I would have any triathlons in September, and wasn’t ready to coast into the off season quite yet, so decided I would sign up as well.  Just for fun.

The tri season had gone surprisingly well for me, especially after having had a year away from them last year.  I placed in two of my four races, and was one away from the podium at another.  In reviewing results, I started to see an odd trend.  When looking at time rankings by swim, bike, and run splits, I noticed that I was now performing better at the run and my swim was the relatively weakest event.   My run pace at the tris was equal to those of my best 5K times ever.  Maybe I was getting a little better? 

I went to the trail race excited to do something different.  Since it wasn’t really “my sport,” I felt less pressure.  I had no expectation of placing and I just decided I would do my best and not stress out about it.

As the 150 racers were being lined up by expected pace, I kissed Lowell good-bye and wished him good luck as he moved to the front of the pack, where he belonged.  I then tried to figure where I should seed myself.  Trail race paces tend to be quite a bit slower than road race pace, due to the uneven, loose terrain and, often, killer hills.  I really didn’t know what to expect.  I settled into the group in sort of back-of-the-middle and waited for the race to start.

I quickly began to be annoyed with the conversations I was hearing around me.  Two women introduced themselves to each other, then started sharing their low expectations for their performances:

“I should probably move back.  I should be near the end.”

“I think the ten-minute pace is just up there a bit.  Where is the 13-plus minute pace?  No way I will be going ten minute miles”

“Yeah, I’m not going to be doing this fast at all.  I’ll be back there walking it.”

I have heard of some top agility competitors who choose to listen to headphones during course walk-throughs to avoid hearing the negative chatter of their competitors – complaints about how hard the judge made the course, about how they know their dog can’t hit that weave pole entry, etc.   This negativity does not help one visualize, or achieve, a successful performance.  I knew I wasn’t setting grand expectations for myself in this race, but I wasn’t about to set low ones either.  I moved forward to seed myself higher in the pack.

The race started, and I felt good taking off.  The pack remained quite tight for the first couple miles, and I would often find myself closing in on the heels of someone going at a decent clip for me.  I would be tempted to hang in behind them for a bit and pace off of them, but then decided that I didn’t want to limit myself by assuming that my best pace would be equal to that person’s best pace.  Maybe I could go faster.  If they passed me again immediately, oh well.  So I decided on a strategy of passing every person that I closed in on.  By probably mile three I was largely alone, and enjoying the solitude of running my best through the woods, listening to the sandhill cranes in the distance, and eventually really hoping that next clearing of trees I could spot was not another wetland, but in fact the finish line.

Coming in four minutes ahead of my goal time, I crossed the finish line, grabbed water and a cookie, and flopped next to the bonfire with Lowell for a few minutes.  I marveled at how quickly my brain could go from, in the initial pain of the final push, thinking “I am not doing that again” to, after catching my breath, looking at other competitor’s event t-shirts and thinking “Maybe that race would be fun to do next year.” 

Lowell had run a great race, and knew he had a good chance of placing well in his age group.  Finally results were posted, and we confirmed that he had won his age group and come in sixth place overall.  I casually went to check my time, and was stunned to see my name in first place of fifteen women in my age group.  My immediate reaction was to declare that clearly there was a mistake, and looked to see if there was another earlier page that had been cut off.  But, nope.  I had officially won myself a toy VW mini-bus.

I never would have guessed that I would have taken first in a running race in a million years.  But this year has been an interesting journey in taking risks, and not subscribing to self-imposed limitations, both in my dog training, and in my racing.  It has been a surprising year, and who knows where it will go next.

Summer’s End

This weekend marked both our last outdoor agility trial of the season, and the last open water triathlon in Michigan this year.  It made for a busy weekend, trying to get in our final chances for summer fun before the daylight and weather change push us inside, or to other outdoor activities, until next year.

On Saturday, we entered Maebe and Django in their first USDAA-sanctioned agility trial at Pontiac Lake Recreation Area.  Django was entered in just three runs during the day, but Maebe was entered in seven(!) classes, as they were offering both tournament and titling classes that day.  We hadn’t actually registered for all the classes, but were put on a Pairs team anyway, so we went along with it.

USDAA was a fun new experience, if a bit hectic.  We enjoyed the high level of competition, seeing some elite dog/handler teams, and having the chance to really push and challenge ourselves.  On the other hand, agility trials are often busy enough when you are only entered in three to five classes in one ring.  You have to make sure you have time to review and walk your courses, warm-up your dog, run, cool the dog down, let the non-competing dogs out to stretch, work a class or two, etc.  With Maebe in all the classes and in both rings, we were kept busy trying to monitor all the action and figure out where to be when.

The trial seemed to be running long, and by late afternoon, Lowell and I finally got to sit down together for half a second, and realized we were both about ready to drop, and were both getting anxious about getting home in time to prepare for tomorrow’s triathlon.  So, we did something we almost never do and scratched from the last two runs of the day.  Django only ran one Standard course (which he did nicely but with one dropped bar),  but I knew he’d be just as glad to get home to kitties and his Jolly Ball.  Maebe ran nicely, but was jumping 22 inches for the first time in competition (she jumps 16 in every other venue).  By her fourth run, I thought her jumping style was getting sloppy and she seemed to be tiring.  We decided that though we’d had fun and enjoyed the day with the dogs and friends, the best use of our time at that point was to head home, pack for the tri, walk the non-competing dogs, and get some rest. 

Back at home, we pulled crates out of the van, loaded up race bikes, and packed our transition bags with our wetsuits, water bottles, bike and running shoes, and other gear.  After a nice moonlit walk with Tristan and Cade, we got to bed early, hoping we’d feel well-rested by the time the 4:45 AM alarm went off.

I woke up feeling pretty decent physically, but dragging mentally.  From the weather map, it looked like we could expect rain and 60-degree temps throughout the race, and I had visions of shivering my way all the way to the finish line.  But, as we began our drive to Stony Creek and the sun started to creep up, the morning proved to actually be a nice one.

We checked in at the race, set up our transition areas, and then familiarized ourselves with the course layout.  Looking out from the beach house over the swim course, I was quickly reminded why all the effort is worth it:

My dad came down to the park to watch the race, so after slipping into our wetsuits, we visited with him for a few minutes before it was my wave’s turn to enter the water.  Even with a wetsuit, 65-degree water is COLD.  Once I caught my breath and acclimated though, the swim went great.  Probably the easiest tri swim I’ve ever had – didn’t get kicked, punched, smacked, or elbowed once, and was able to sight straight lines between each buoy.  I was out of the water before I knew it.

The bike portion was fun for me as always.  It was made more exciting when about a quarter of the way in, I was passed by a woman in my age group.  This was the first woman to pass me on the bike leg at any tri this year, and I wasn’t going to stand for it long, so overtook her again quickly.  I held the lead again until about halfway, where we had another back-and-forth, but this time I pulled well away from her. 

The bike course was on local roads and was open to traffic, and about 5K out from the finish, a group of us got stopped at an intersection for a few seconds as a car was turning.  Shortly afterwards, my rival passed again.  For a second I felt disheartened and figured I was running out of steam to hold her off.  Then I remembered the delay at the intersection, realized that was why she caught me, and decided that I was ending this season with my record intact – that no woman was going to pass me on the bike leg.  I pulled ahead and held it this time.

She and one other woman passed me pretty shortly into the run, but after that I held any other women off.  After the initial “brick” feeling caused by the bike-to-run transition wore off in my legs and feet, I felt pretty good and ran strong to the finish, having fun the whole way. 

I ended up finishing just off the podium – fourth in my age group.  I was 14 of 77 women overall, a finish that I was quite proud of.  My 5K run time was as good as my best 5K straight time ever, even after a tough bike. 

So now we transition to a few trail races, orienteering meets, hikes, and mountain bike rides through the changing leaves, and indoor agility for the next several months.  It felt like a great opportunity this weekend though to get those last events in, and when we collapsed into bed early Sunday night, we were exhausted but content that we had made the most of summer.

Do What You Love

I am a morning person.  Like my Border Collies, I am active and high-energy.  I like to compete and to try new challenges, and I like to push myself to see what I am capable of.  Despite these facts, sometimes at 4 AM on a Sunday when I am waking up to a glass of energy drink and preparing to drive to a local park to set up my race gear in darkness, well aware of the almost 90 minutes of pain that are awaiting me, I have passing thoughts about my sanity and about how I choose to spend my leisure time.

This Sunday, the triathlon season came full circle, as I finished out the year racing on the same course I started the season out with in May.  Back in May, I remember that weekend seemed to mark the start of the summer.  Having just returned from our road trip down south, we came home to Michigan to find the days increasingly longer and warmer, our flower beds fully in bloom, and had three months of summer fun planned ahead of us.  Yesterday as I set up my transition area, I noticed how the days were shorter now and you could feel fall’s approach was imminent.  I also noticed how in the past week or so, my motivation had been waning slightly, and I was feeling rather ready to take a break from tri-racing until next spring.

So as I sat at the beach finishing my coffee and getting ready to wriggle into my wetsuit, I was reminding myself, why do I do this?  The answer is that it really is damn fun.  It is the same reason that we wake up at equally unreasonable hours to head off to an agility trial, set up tents, crates, and exercise pens, and hustle around all day studying course maps, warming up dogs, and running our courses.   It is a challenge, sure, but more simply, it is just fun and it brings us joy.  And really, is there any better reason to do anything?

This has been a busy, but very enjoyable summer, for our entire household.  The secret to this enjoyment, I believe, is finding what you love and dedicating yourself to it, even at times when you are tempted to do something easier.  I didn’t always feel like heading out on my bike after work for a pre-dinner ride, nor did I always want to battle the backyard mosquitoes in order to set up some 2x2 weave pole practice, but my motivation at those times was the knowledge of how much true pleasure and enjoyment I get out of those things once I begin.  Bike riding always seems to elevate my mood no matter how grumpy I am feeling, and my dogs always make me laugh and smile with their enthusiasm and delight in whatever game we are playing.  OK, there may have been a long run or two in the high-80’s and 100% humidity where I was definitely not happy or pleasant to be with, but those were few and far between.  And I was always happy to have done it once it was over.

The flip side of this secret, I’ve realized this year, is recognizing what things you think are making you happy, that really aren’t.  We made decisions this year to step back from some activities that were taking a lot of our time, and no longer bringing us the enjoyment that they once had.  We made decisions that weren’t always easy – no longer participating in some events that we used to, deciding not to follow instruction from trainers whose advice at times conflicted with what we knew best for our dogs, etc. – but have not had any regrets.   Instead, we found ourselves with the time to spend on our priorities, and I am grateful we had the wisdom to make those decisions.

By mid-morning yesterday, my final tri of the season was completed.  I had taken over two minutes of off my race time since May, and came in third in my age group, much to my pleasant surprise.  I started contemplating doing one more tri this season, and looking forward to some fall trail races, more agility trials, and camping trips still to come. 

And, even at the most painful points of the run, I had a blast, and remembered to find the joy in what I was doing.  With a quarter-mile left on the run, I imagined that I was running up the last, long hill in the final quarter-mile of our usual morning run at home.  I pictured Cadence in front of me on those training runs, happily charging up the hill, tongue and ears flapping, and imagined he was joyfully pulling me towards that finish line.

 

Tristan is never afraid to do what he loves.

Iron Goddess Tri

This weekend, I ran in the Iron Goddess, an all-woman triathlon at Waterloo Recreation Area.

This was not the triathlon I planned to do this weekend. When I was looking over the race calendars this spring, I noticed this tri and the Kensington tri were scheduled for the same weekend, and I signed up for Kensington. Although I love races at Waterloo, the Kensington tri had a longer bike course (good for me), and, in all honesty, the idea of an all-woman tri had no appeal to me. It didn't seem like an empowering concept to me - it seemed actually quite the opposite, as if us delicate women-folk needed to be kept away from the big, scary, (sometimes) faster men on the race course. Or something. Not that I am a cut-throat competitor by any means, but I thought this race would be likely to annoy me.

A few weeks ago, the race company hosting the Kensington tri had to cancel the event due to poor swim conditions at the beach. My money was refunded, but I suddenly was without a tri to do in June, so I decided to sign up for the Iron Goddess. It seemed better than not racing at all this month.

As race day approached, my worries increased that this was going to be a weird event. In the pre-race information e-mail, the race directors reminded participants that even though it was fun to chat with your friend while biking, that riding two abreast is against tri rules, and remember, this is a race after all. I groaned reading this to my husband, wondering if this was going to be a race or a socializing event.

Sunday, we showed up for the race and it was business as usual. Pick up my number and chip, rack my bike and set up my transition area, get my body marked, make sure I am familiar with the flow of the race - where to run/bike in and out, etc. Then head down to the beach for a warm-up swim.

In tris, wetsuits are legal if water temps are below 78 degrees. This morning, the water was 77.9. My wetsuit does make me a faster swimmer, but I was a little concerned about being too warm. After much deliberation, and a taking a short dip, I decided to forego the wetsuit this time.

The race was a bit delayed, but finally we got started and I was to start in the fourth wave. I hit the water strong. My goggles were adjusted perfectly, I was having no problem sighting the buoys, and I was up near the front of the pack, just a bit off from the lead swimmers. As we rounded the first set of buoys, however, one of the kayaks had pulled across the course to stop us. Thunderstorms had entered the county, and the sheriff's department was having the race directors pull everyone out of the water until they passed. The earlier waves had already rounded halfway, so they continued on, but we needed to turn and head back to shore.

During the half-hour delay for the weather to pass, the race directors made the reasonable decision to shorten the swim to 400 meters instead of 800 for the interrupted waves. Some racers were apparently concerned about tiring on the swim since they had already done about half of it. I figured that if you trained appropriately, the extra distance shouldn't take it out of you that bad, but I understand not wanting to mess with safety on the swim. Realizing that people had different goals, the director offered us the option of still doing the full swim if we wanted to. It would be a timing headache for them figuring out placements, etc., but they were willing to offer two different race lengths to try to keep everyone happy. I opted to still swim the full 800, since that is what I came there to do.

So, we filed into the water and took off again. And this time my trusty race goggles immediately filled with water. I tried to adjust them between strokes, but could not get a good seal. Any time I put my face flat into the water, they filled up again. If I kept my head at a slight tilt, they did OK, but having a higher head when you swim makes your legs sink, increases drag, and slows you down. I regretted not wearing my wetsuit, which would have compensated for this somewhat. I made it out of the water feeling strong but frustrated, with a pretty crappy swim time well off my usual pace.

With no wetsuit to wriggle out of, I made it through transition quickly, and was out on the bike. The bike is my strongest event by far and my favorite. There are few things I find as fun as flying along a country road on my tri bike. For me, my race is really largely done on the bike. I try to get as much advantage as I can there, then hope I can run strong enough to hold people off. I decided to lay it all out on the bike course this time, and just see what was left in me for the run.

Came back into transition, switched to my running shoes, and started off on my least favorite part of the tri - the run. The first half was on park roads, and then it ended on trail. I knew if I just stuck it out for the road portion, which I find more difficult mentally, that I always do better once I get on trail. After the bike effort I put in, I expected to be feeling dead on the run, but to my surprise I found myself passing several people. At the trail entrance, I pulled in behind a runner who was going at a good clip. I could keep up with her though, so I decided to stick to her for a while. After a ways, I decided to pull ahead, thinking that having her behind me would push me harder, and perhaps I could pull her along as well.

We kept up that pace together, each motivating each other to keep it up. About a quarter mile from the finish, we started to close in on a woman in my age group. She was holding her distance ahead of us, but at an uphill in the trail, I heard her groan about the climb. Figuring that was a sign that she was near exhaustion and wouldn't be able to challenge me back, I kicked up the pace enough to overtake her on the climb. I pulled ahead then into the finish line chute exhausted but knowing that I had left it all on the race course.



In the end, I was three minutes faster than my goal time, even with the crappy swim. I came in sixth in my age group, with the third fastest bike split and fifth fastest run split in the group, which amazed me. My run time still has me baffled. I don't think I've ever run a straight 5K at that pace, so I'm wondering if the course was measured short. On the other hand, I have been working a lot on my running this year, and I know that I was pushing very hard. It isn't an impossible time, and I hope it is a sign that my run is actually improving.

For all my negativity leading up to the race, I had to admit I had a great time. Interestingly, due to the two separate swim length options, you could no longer tell who you were in direct competition with, since you didn't know which swim they had done. So, you really just had to run your own race, do the best you could, and see how it came out in the end.

It was perhaps an odd tri experience, but nonetheless a fun and rewarding one. I'm glad that I eventually shed my negativity and stereotypes and just enjoyed what was actually a very positive, well-run, and challenging event.

Most Awesome Swim Bouys Ever

Catching Up

Haven't blogged in a few weeks - originally because I was so busy, and now because I'm not even sure what to write about to catch up. We've been having a lovely spring with lots of fun adventures lately. Since mid-May, we've:

-Taken a long road/camping trip to Kissimmee, Florida and back, with stops in Mammoth Cave National Park and Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Maebe and Django came to compete at CPE Agility Nationals in Kissimmee, while Cade came along for the ride. They all made great driving, hiking, and campfire buddies, although Maebe was looking into nearby hotels hoping for more posh accomodations. Apparently my pillow was the only suitable sleeping area in the camper, so she had to settle for that.

-Competed in CPE Nationals, and watched Maebe and her dad kick some serious agility ass there. So proud of both of them. Maebe came home with four first place ribbons, two seconds, one fourth, and a plaque for Reserve High in Standard. Django had a mixed weekend - some brilliance, some "what on earth made him decide to turn around and go back up the dogwalk in the other direction?" moments - but as always we had a lot of fun running together, he made me proud, and he even came home with a plaque for fourth place veteran in the games (non-standard) classes.

-I competed in my first triathlon for the season, and was pleased with my finish, especially given how early in the season it was. They are truly just a lot of fun, and I can't wait for the next one at the end of the month. In the end, I came in seventh in my age group, but would have placed in every other women's age group. The field was just pretty good at my age - lucky me!

-Have done a couple more local agility trials, and even Tristan got to come out and run a few courses. He was very happy. I can't believe just a year ago he was running so great at Nationals. I think his vision is definitely affecting his jumping now, so we moved him to the "Specialist" category so he only has to jump 12-inches, and we don't ask him to do contact obstacles anymore. He has held up fine with these runs, so hopefully we can continue to bring him out to play a little during this summer's trials.

-Continued to train Cade to be a good little Noodle. He is doing great on the agility obstacles at home. He is now doing 2-on/2-off stops on the contacts, I have him jumping 16" jumps on the jump grids, and think he is now old enough that I will start him on 2x2 weaves very soon. His focus and drive keep getting better. At home. Class has been an increasing challenge in recent weeks with the temper tantrums when other dogs are running. He'd been doing pretty good, but then met the one dog that I have ever seen him actively dislike - an adolescent, exuberant male Beardie in the class. This poor dog sends Noodle up the wall. The beardie is young and excited like Cade, and Cade thinks it his Border Collie duty to take him down a few notches to maintain order in the world. So, the impulse control and attention work continues. . . which means a lot of standing at the back of class doing heelwork and eye contact. He is going to be well worth it though. While he has his squirrely moments, he's just a teenager really, and he is just a delight overall. I do adore the little goofball.

-Oh, and we signed up our first road trip for 2011 already! The British trainer Kay Laurence, who we saw at ClickerExpo this year, is holding a three-day "Learning about Border Collies" seminar at a dairy farm in Missouri in April. Kay is one of the most fascinating dog trainers we've ever seen speak, and the site was described as "Border Collie heaven." We immediately sent in our registration, so plan on taking Cadence and Tristan next spring. We can hardly wait.

In between all that, there have been lots of peaceful drinks on the patio, lovely walks along the pond at sunrise, and just generally enjoying the start of summer, which seemed to arrive while we were off on our camping trip. Feeling very grateful for the many great things that have happened in the last several weeks, and excited for everything still to come in the next couple months.

Some pics from recent adventures: