Anyone still here? Control IQ and exercise (part 1)

Hi. It's been awhile. Do people still read blogs? (I think I know the answer.) A lot has happened since I last wrote here, but I thought I would drop in to say that I am currently using a Tandem tslim:X2 pump with the Dexcom G6 CGM and the Tandem Control IQ ("CIQ") algorithm. I have been playing around a lot with the exercise mode and cycling and am finally getting something to work well. It took a lot of trial and error, and I got some really great help from some Facebook groups; but otherwise I felt like I was on my own figuring this out. Hopefully others can skip ahead past some of the stuff I tried. (Mostly, using my regular profiles in exercise mode did not work well for me for any exercise over an hour.)

I generally bike a minimum of 90 minutes nearly every day and have been on rides recently up to about 7 hours. The intensity varies quite a bit since I am sometimes working on intervals, often climbing and also often descending back down those climbs. My goal is to use the exercise mode with no lows or near lows, no serious or prolonged highs, and the ability to fuel my exercise rather than my blood sugar.

**Note! I am not a doctor! While I feel confident adjusting my pump settings, and my endocrinologist has basically said, "Why are you asking me? You know how to figure it out," please do not interpret this post as medical or insulin dosing advice. Check in with your doctor, please.**

The short story is that I created a cycling profile with sensitivity factors 2.5 to 3.5 times my normal settings, increasing every hour or two over a period of about 6 hours. So, for example, instead of 1:55, I am using 1:170 for the first hour. My basal rates stay about the same initially, since I tend to spike during the first hour, and then taper every hour or two. I can then allow the CIQ algorithm to automatically adjust basals and give correction boluses without messing around with it too much, but also eat when I need to. Initially I was taking a small 0.05 unit bolus to prevent CIQ from auto-bolusing, but this is hard to remember to do for longer rides, and I do want to be able to prevent highs as well. I turn on the profile and exercise mode right before I head out, because I also eat a small snack (about 11 g carbs) and tend to go high in the first hour.

I have modified my on-bike food to include foods with a bit of protein and fat, but still pack a ton of gels to bring me out of lows should I encounter them. FWIW if I ever get a hunger pang during a ride, it almost always is a precursor to falling BGs.

A recent ride beginning 6 AM and ending around 11. I ate about 100 cals/hour. Ride included 3 50-minute mountain climbs.

Lost Bones Reunited! (Hopefully)

Ten weeks after my bike crash in February 2009, I wrote with optimism that my left clavicle fracture was beginning to heal.  And for the most part, the pain subsided over time.  Later in 2009, I was able to complete the 206-mile cycling race, Lotoja, and also Ironman Arizona; although, there were lingering issues with my back strength and upper arm strength, especially on my left side.  Also, I still experienced a sort of searing pain, like the pain a tearing muscle might inflict, in my upper left arm with certain reaching movements.  The pain became worse after I fractured my right clavicle in May 2010 and had to rely on my left arm while that healed.  From the medical imaging, it became clear that the left clavicle fracture had never healed; and after months of PT and ruling out shoulder joint problems (cortisone injection, MR arthrogram, etc.), the orthopedic surgeon determined that the most likely cause of my continued searing upper arm pain was this "non-union" fracture.  Surgery was scheduled for October 24, 2011, approaching 3 years after the original injury.

The surgical plan was to scrape off the substantial hypertrophic (i.e., overgrown) bone growth at the bone edges and to use that material as a sort of grout between the fractured bone ends.  The bone would be properly realigned and then secured with a plate and several screws.  Aside from some pretty unpleasant complications from the general anesthesia and pain meds, the surgery and immediate recovery went smoothly.  The surgeon was unable to remove all of the hypertrophic growth from underneath the clavicle because of the proximity to major blood vessels; but otherwise, things went as planned.  Currently, there is some skin tenderness on the surface of the plate, and it is still too soon to know whether the pain is resolved.  But so far I feel hopeful that it will be better than before.  If the plate bugs me, there is an option to have it removed once the bone has completely healed.

Six weeks post injury; hypertrophy of bone has not occurred yet. (Xray March 16, 2009)

About six weeks post surgery. There is one longer screw to insert into the hypertrophic bone that couldn't be removed.  A healed fracture from 2009 is visible in the 3rd rib down, (Xray 12/6/2011)

What I didn't anticipate about this is that, although planned, the surgery was essentially the same as re-fracturing the clavicle and required a recovery period just as long.  So, I am yet again facing another period of regaining fitness lost to injury.  Of course, I am grateful that I was able to have the repair and the pain was substantially less (not even comparable, really) to the original injury.

Exercising Post Breakfast

While there has been some press lately on how exercising before versus after a meal may affect calories burned and weight management, people with diabetes have additional considerations.  For me, I have generally avoided exercising soon after a meal simply because I'd rather not deal with the conundrum of either taking my normal bolus and crashing from the insulin once it becomes super-active during exercise or underbolusing and then going high early on.  This was especially noticeable with running, and I tried to never have more than 1 U of insulin floating around when I went out the door.  For races or other times when I want to have a meal beforehand, I try to bolus & eat about 3 hours prior to starting to exercise.  Then, I am able to take a full bolus that is pretty much gone by the time I start.

But today, for various, uninteresting reasons, I wanted to eat before my 1-hour easy ride.  So I thought I would experiment a little.  I took my full bolus and ate my normal breakfast.  But when I took my bolus I also shut my pump off for an hour.  Hmm, maybe it was 90 minutes.  At any rate, by the time I started my ride, my pump had been off for 45 to 60 minutes; although I had a full bolus still peaking.  My BG was somewhere in the low 100s and rose up a bit; I checked about 40 minutes in and it was starting to fall, so I ate a 20g gel.  By the time I finished, I was 160; I took a correction bolus and settled in nicely in the low 100s.

I still prefer to exercise with just a snack versus a whole meal, but it was nice to figure out a way to sneak in a ride post meal in case I need to do that again.  I think if it had been a much harder ride, I may have had a bit of trouble.  Also, since I don't normally shut my pump off (or even modify basal rates) during exercise, I have some room to play with my basal rates.  I guess, in the past, I have used this method if I had to take a correction bolus close to exercising; although usually I just take a smaller correction than I might have otherwise done.

Fond du Lac at Tour of America's Dairyland

On day 2 of my diabetes revamp, I seemed to have a bit too much insulin on board.  I had a horrible high that kept me up for an hour overnight--I think it was related to the infusion site--but had settled down nicely by breakfast.  Eating the same meal as yesterday, I rose up but came down a bit low, 58 right before I planned to warm up for the race in Fond du Lac.  (My theory is that since we had such a relaxed conversation on our long drive before the race, I was less nervous than usual. Maybe??)  I ate a granola bar plus a handful of Dex 4 glucose tabs, and turned my pump down so it was only +15% over normal.  My BG was 166 the last time I checked, and was just barely starting to fall again; unfortunately, my CGM stopped working on the line of the race, and since I was feeling sort of lowish, I decided to eat a gel just in case.  The race started and I went to the front and stayed with the pack.  I have been working on staying in the pack, towards the front, without doing a crazy amount of work.  (My average watts in these races have been high which is mostly reflective of me staying in the wind too much.)  I felt like there were some improvements and that my comfort level was much greater.   I could feel that racing feeling coming back at last.  I enjoyed racing with Erin Ball, my teammate on Team Type 1, and was happy to see her right in the mix; plus she went for a prime and nearly got it. Very cool! It has also been great racing with my friend Katie Styer from the Early Bird Women's team, which I was part of for 2 years--she is a very positive person to have around and she helped rein me in from the wind a few times.  After the race, my BG was up to 300 but came down to 224 after 15 minutes of easy riding.  Overall, I felt better even though my BG ended up a bit high.  We have two more races to go--tomorrow in Milwaukee and Sunday in Madison, where I am looking forward to meeting up with some great friends and supporters of Team Type 1. Yay!

Sheboygan BGs--Update on My Insulin Tweaks

Dexcom readings around Sheboygan crit

(Update on BGs after major insulin adjustments described in my last post.)  

After a bit of a low BG before going to bed last night, I shut off my pump for an hour, which allowed my BGs to creep up to around 200.  The increased basal rates were a bit too much from about midnight until I woke up, as evidenced by a steady but slow drop between those times; but fortunately I landed in a nice spot this morning, right around 100.  I lowered the early morning basal by 0.1 U/hr so hopefully tonight will be better.

For the rest of the day, things have worked out pretty well.  The first bump on the Dexcom shown here is my breakfast spike, which came down after about a 20 minute warmup.  I saw "86" with a slight downward trend about an hour before the race start, and still had my basals cranked up, so ate a granola bar.  I warmed up a little longer and then headed for the car once it started raining about 40 minutes before the start.  My last BG check before the race showed about 135 and the Dexcom showed a flat trend at 120.  Finally things seemed to be where I wanted them!  I was a little anxious, actually, about having a normal BG, and popped a couple Dex 4 glucose tabs just in case.

The rain began in a complete downpour and I was soaked just waiting on the line. The field quickly became strung out and I was somewhere in the middle (I think), tucking in behind people when I could.  One of the biggest puddles on the course was right in the corner, but I actually enjoyed plowing through the water--at least it wasn't cold!  After the race, I was elated to learn that my teammate, Becca Schepps, had won the race!  I knew she was strong enough and had the tactical skills to do it, so was glad that it worked out! Very exciting.

Once I had changed out of my sopping clothes, I checked my BG and came in at 115, although I felt more like 60.  If the race had been much longer, I think I would have gone low (perhaps)? I think that I might either bring my race basal down a little, or eat a little more before if I find myself in the same position tomorrow.  I'd rather be up a little at the finish just to be on the safe side. I bolused a huge amount (compared to normal) for lunch and then corrected for the high (seen as the excursion above the line) and have been satisfied with how things are continuing to work out.

Although this game never ends, I am glad to have tamped down some of the constant highs and BG spikes.  Tomorrow we race in Fond du Lac, and I am hoping for similarly good BGs but a race without rain!

Adjusting Type 1 Diabetes to Racing Tour of America's Dairyland

Often when I travel, it seems like I need to increase my insulin basal rates; but racing this week in Wisconsin has required a surprisingly large adjustment.  Leading up to the start of the series for me, I had my basal rates on increased, "taper" mode, which is what I try to remember to use when I have a rest week in my training, or am tapering my training before a race.  (With a decreased training load, I will need more insulin.)  After arriving in Wisconsin for my first race (Friday),  I turned on my "race day" basal rate profile.  This profile has an approximate 30% increase an hour before my planned breakfast and throughout my races, which are all 30-40 minutes in length, beginning sometime between 11:20 and 11:50 AM.  At other times, the basal rate profile uses my normal rates.  At my race Sunday in Waukesha, my BG started around 190 and ended up around 300 forty minutes later.  I don't necessarily expect to have a flat line (BG-wise) during a race, so my goal is to start lower so that I don't finish the race quite so high.

Aside from the race-related BG spikes, I have had overall higher BGs, frustratingly resistant to multiple corrections.  Leaving my race day basal rate profile on constantly was still not bringing my BGs down so yesterday afternoon I just decided to increase my basal rates by another 30% or so.  Overnight, things were a bit better and this morning, I programmed a new basal rate profile that is 30% higher than my already high, "taper" profile.  I looked back and saw that, instead of my typical total daily insulin dose of 20-32 units, I was needing more than 40 units for consecutive days, which is very much outside the norm for me.  Since I had been staying high after meals and my corrections were not working well, I also reprogrammed my carb ratios from 15 g/U to 11 g/U and lowered all of my correction factors by 10 mg/dL/U.

It has seemed a bit paradoxical that during an 10-day race series (with 8 races), I would need so much more insulin.  But, perhaps it makes sense.  Although I am racing almost daily, the races are short & intense.  My blood sugar always goes up during 30-40 min crits, which are high-adrenalin events.  The common thought is that, with high intensity activities, adrenalin is released, causing the liver to release glucose from glycogen stores; for someone with diabetes, the lack of a normal insulin response can easily leave the blood sugar high.  Furthermore, the short duration of these crits means that my overall exercise volume is much lower.  And to compound that, we spend most of the rest of race days resting or doing light activity, which is in contrast to a more typical day of traveling (by foot or bike) to and from work, working a full day, etc.

So far, during our rest day today, I have only had a couple brief excursions over 200, which is a huge improvement over the past few days.  It is always nerve-wracking to take so much more insulin, but it seems to be working well so far.  But really--since when did I have to take 1.4 units for an apple?  We will resume racing tomorrow and continue through Sunday if all goes well, and I fully expect that I will have to make more adjustments.  Diabetes is always a work-in-progress!

Total daily rapid-acting insulin using Omnipod

June 12--end of 18-hr training week; June 13--begin taper; 

June 17--daily racing begins; June 20--no race

Mid-tour in America's Dairyland with the Team Type 1 Women

I am starting to lose track of time after multiple days of racing here in Wisconsin. Today is Tuesday I think?  So far our team has raced in Shorewood, Thiensville, Grafton, Waukesha, and Milwaukee; we have upcoming races in Sheboygan (Thurs), Fond du Lac (Fri), Milwaukee (Sat) and finally Madison (Sun).  We also had the pleasure of riding in the American Diabetes Association Tour de Cure in Grafton before our race there, and spent another day sharing our experiences with exercise and diabetes with local health care providers.  We have been taking turns writing up reports, which are posted at the Team Type 1 website here.  If you are in the area, we would love to have you come out for a race!  Please come find us and say hello.  We have women racing in both women's races, typically starting at 11:20 AM (Women's Category 3/4) and 3 PM (Women's Pro 1/2/3).  The daily schedule is located at the Tour of America's Dairyland website here.

So far, I have learned an incredible amount both during the races but also in our frequent discussions together off the bike, and have had a lot of fun getting to know my teammates.  What an incredible and fun group of women!  We are very fortunate to have Kori Seehafer--with her enthusiasm and expertise--directing us each day; managing the logistics of 7 people racing day after day, as well as directing tactics and strategies, AND racing each day is a big undertaking!

It's surprising how much energy even a 30-40 minute race takes after several days, so I will write up more when I have had a chance to rest up a bit.  But I will say that I am looking forward to the rest of the series and to racing with my teammates at future events.

Also, I wanted to say thank you to Sanofi-aventis for sponsoring our team, which makes this all possible.  I am truly grateful to be able to help spread the message of the importance of exercise in the management of diabetes, and that we can reach for our goals regardless of having type 1 diabetes.  Sanofi-aventis is not only helping to bring athletes with type 1 diabetes to the top levels of the sport but is also helping us share this message with the diabetes community and beyond!

My Latest Strategy for Managing Type 1 Diabetes During Road Cycling Races

After a lot of trial and error, I have finally been having some good success managing my blood sugar during intense cycling efforts such as at criteriums, circuit races and time trials.  This is very exciting to me because at some points last year, I was at my wit's end with race-related blood sugars severely high enough to not only hurt my performance but also to raise my A1c slightly.

In general terms, I pre-program my pump basal rate to increase by 30%, beginning an hour before I plan to eat breakfast, and I time my breakfast to be no closer than 3 hours before the race start.  So, for example, I started my 30% increase at 5 AM this morning and ate breakfast at about 5:50, in anticipation of my 9:00 AM time trial (TT) start time.  I ate a normal breakfast and took my full bolus plus a small correction for a 164 BG.  (I actually bolused about 15 minutes before I ate, at 5:35 AM. In general I like to take a meal bolus as far away from my race as practical, while not eating so early that I'm hungry again before I race.)  I pre-programmed my basal rate to be +30% throughout the duration of my race.  I prefer using increased basal rates versus extra boluses because, in the case that I give too much insulin, correcting for the former is much easier.

Once onsite, I got all my stuff ready, rode about a mile to registration and back, and got ready to start my warmup on the trainer.  By this time (8:15 AM) my BG was hovering around 100 so I ate 34 g carbs (clif kid twisted fruit ropes, which seem relatively easy on the BG); since I was about to warmup, I expected that effort to keep me from rising too much, as well.  I only had time for about 30 minutes of warmup, and checked in with a BG of 89 ten minutes before my race start time.  I ate one clif shot energy gel and could see my BG was starting to rise, so tucked another gel under my shorts and went to the line.  (I also had 2-3 gels in my jersey pocket because, well, you never know.)  My instinct, when I see a BG of 90 that close to a race is to overreact and eat too much; it has been hard for me to learn to trust that the adrenalin will really kick in (especially with a +30% increase in my basal rate).

Since I have been using the Dexcom 7+, I rarely bring my blood glucose testing kit with me on rides of less than a few hours; and it really is very impractical to test during a cycling race.  My confidence in the Dexcom CGM technology has grown tremendously compared to the first STS sensor years ago.  (I think anyone who used that remains a bit cautious; but I am quite impressed with the current version.)  For races, I set all of the alarms on to sound plus vibrate; I also set the low alarm at 100, the high alarm at 200, and the rising/falling alarm at 2 mg/dL/min.  Sometimes I can feel the CGM vibrate but usually I hear the 2 or 3 tones that tell me whether I am high or on the rise, or low or falling, respectively.  (I really wish the low and high alarms were fully customizable; actually I wish the number of alarms was also customizable and that there were more sounds to choose from.  I really want to know when my BG is below 120 or I may have some other arbitrary target.  Actually, what would be even better is if it were displayed on my bike computer screen. Can the Dexcom transmit ANT+ please?)  Anyway, for today's race I could hear that I was rising; although at the time I assumed I was high since the alarms are the same.  The CGM graph showed that my BG rose throughout the race but peaked at around 180, which I'm pretty happy with.  It was still on the rise until after I finished racing.

I've used this approach for the past couple races now, and I am slowly beginning to trust it; although I realize there may yet be a better strategy.  In some ways, it is similar to the challenges I had during T1 (transition between the swim and bike) in half- and full-ironman distance triathlons.  Believing that a 400 BG after a significant swim plus hour on the bike is due to my own hormonal response, and not some fault in the insulin delivery or some other wacky unknown, took some experience.  And believing that I could really increase my basal rate during the swim (or end of the swim) took some trial and error as I gradually increased my confidence that I wouldn't go low.  If insulin didn't cause low blood sugar, this would all be so much easier, no?

Oh, and for today's race, I came in 4th place for the women's 4 field.  Race reports that may describe more of the race details can be found on the Team Type 1 website.

Total Daily Insulin Versus Cycling Time

Thanks to my super-fantastic coach and team director Kori, I have been logging my workouts since she started working with me late last year.  From my insulin pump, I can also pull off my total daily insulin amounts (or "TDD" for total daily dose) since the beginning of time, give or take.  I thought it might be fun to just plot out my TDD as a function of my cycling time, even though the results are probably as shocking as showing that washing hands reduces the spread of colds.  Anyway, I decided to just do a very simple linear regression of the data between January and March, 2011.  This model ignores variables such as what other exercise I did that day (I often walk about 40 minutes per day), whether I ate more or less than normal, my weight, how old my infusion set was, etc.  In short, the only variable I am considering is time on the bike.  But there still is a clear trend that shows with increasing time on the bike, I took less insulin.

An Overly Simplistic Model But Still Sort of Interesting

For those who like details, the slope was -0.046 U/min, the y-intercept was 35.3 U and correlation coefficient was -0.65.  If I included only March, rather than January through March, the correlation coefficient was -0.68.  The mean TDD for January was 32 U and was 30 U for March.  Total cycling time was only 90 minutes more in March although the intensity was higher.  My weight was about 5 pounds less in March.  Again, one of the most important and obvious variables affecting TDD is calorie intake, which is not included here.  But still it was fun to plot this out since the data was readily available.   Maybe I will be better about logging total activity time, including other forms of exercise, for a period of time.  If I am super motivated, I might even track calories although I can only stand doing that once in a while.

Intensity and Blood Sugar

When I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, one of the guidelines I was given was that exercise would make my blood sugar drop.  Like most guidelines I received, this was an oversimplification.  During my years of daily running, I would go out the door without eating or taking any insulin, and often return with a slightly higher BG level.  I remember thinking, "'Guess I'm just weird."  And during track workouts, the response was even more perplexing.  After a few intervals at high intensity, my blood sugar would really start to climb.  I grew accustomed to this response and began taking some correction boluses or temporary basal rates to help temper the steep rise.  What I have learned since then, and which has hopefully become more common knowledge, is that high intensity physical efforts can increase the adrenalin and stimulate the liver to release more glucose into the bloodstream.  (Here is an article that explains the phenomenon and suggestions for how to manage it.  Also, fellow type 1 and exercise guru, Dr. Sheri Colberg-Ochs, has an excellent book devoted to the nuances of diabetes control and exercise.)

I think there is another reason that exercise does not always cause my blood sugar to drop, even when I am doing a more moderate-intensity workout: I have basically adjusted my basal rates to account for morning exercise, and I am consistent in exercising almost daily.  So, instead of constantly reducing my basal rate, I try to remember to increase it on my off days.  Of course, with anything diabetes-related, things don't always work out as planned--there are still days when I have to eat 3 gels to get through an hour of exercise!

When I first start a new exercise type, or increase volume and/or intensity of my current regimen, I will typically notice an increase in insulin sensitivity, as manifested by more frequent low blood sugar (unless I catch on early and adjust my basal rates).  This can be significant, especially initially; over a few weeks, the effect seems to be reduced, although I will still be more insulin sensitive than prior to the change in exercise (up to a point).  I remember, when I first started doing triathlon, I had a couple hours in the afternoon where I had to shut my pump off.  My body adapted to the changes and the effect did not last for more than a week or so; but still, I had an overall, significant decrease in my daily insulin dose that persisted.  I had been running 6 days/week for years so initially, at least, it was primarily the change in exercise type that was responsible for the effect.

When this effect diminishes and my insulin needs increase a little, I see it as a sign that my body is becoming more efficient at the exercise and that my fitness is improving.  Or maybe it's just time to take it up a notch again.

bike class at the beginning

I regularly attend a bike class that has efforts mainly in my upper power zones, equivalent in intensity to a track workout for running.  It takes a lot of focus to keep my intensity high because, basically, it hurts.  I have been watching my CGM during class to see what types of intervals cause my glucose levels to rise or fall.  Today's workout called for a five-minute warmup followed by isolated leg drills. We then moved into two five-minute high cadence intervals, following by two sets of six minutes at low cadence followed by a minute rest and then six minutes at high cadence.  These were all hard efforts and I tried to push it as hard as I could.  I came into the class right around 100 mg/dL and held off on eating anything. For the first half-hour, things remained steady.  I expected to see a rise after the two high cadence intervals, but it remained steady.  However, about 10 minutes later, there was a slight increase, which is the first bump you can see on the CGM display.  This came back down somewhat and I remained in a good zone throughout the class.  The high cadence intervals feel a lot harder to me; it takes much more determination to stay at 115 RPM for six minutes for me to do the equivalent Watts at 65 RPM.  For me to have the same heart rate at 65 RPM, I can increase my Watts by about 30.  This may explain my general observation that the high cadence intervals stimulate a greater blood sugar increase than the low cadence intervals.  Perhaps, today, the alternating high then low cadence intervals kept things more steady.  I need more data and translating this to the road may not be totally straightforward.  But I will add that the only bike race where I have had low blood sugar was the hill climb at Kern County Women's Stage Race.  (Of course, the hill climb being the second race of the day muddies the waters a little.)

Oh and now you can see, perhaps, why I want to have the power meter (and/or other fitness devices) and CGM all integrated.  I won't go off on another rant right now since I already took care of that here!

And one more thing: I think this stuff also applies to athletes without diabetes.  I am surprised that people haven't started using these tools to refine athletic performance.  Seriously, people pay big bucks to save 10 grams on their wheel, which is absolutely meaningless if you don't fuel properly and get sub-optimal blood sugar during a race.  It is really hard to nail down blood sugar levels unless you actually measure them.  (For example, I have bonked with normal blood sugar.)  And as luck would have it, there are plenty of tools to do so.  I would love to see some top athletes show their data during races, for example. Bueller? Bueller? Anyone?

Addendum: I'd like to add a reminder that exercise can of course cause a drop in blood glucose, which can become life-threatening if treatment (i.e., a carbohydrate source or glucagon) is not available.  I almost always have at least 50-75 g of fast-acting carbs with me, and more if I am exercising >1 hour or somewhere without quick access to a store etc. And I always bring along the CGM and/or BG meter.  (I rely on the CGM alone for workouts <2-3 hours, but will bring the meter as well if I'm going longer.)  Don't make fun of the bulging pockets on my jersey!

Race Report: 2010 Kern County Stage Race

I had meant to post this earlier.  Here it is, although it seems long ago now.  I originally wrote this up for my team back in May and have left it pretty much the same.

Race: Kern County Stage Race (Bakersfield area, CA)
Date: May 14-16, 2010
Category raced: 4
Weather: sunny, some wind, warm to hot
Number of starters: 22
Early Birds present: racing: Deanna, Michal, Anne; supporting: team director Laurel Green
Other teams present: Dolce Vita, Tibco II, Los Ranchos, Metromint, Velo Allegro, Los Gatos, MetalMtn, Lenovo, DudeGirl
Your goal for the race: Do my best to place high in the GC (general classification or overall finishing placement).

Short story:
We raced 4 races in 3 days and took 2 ice baths.  The races went: good, good, bad, great!

Long story:
Stage 1: Bena Individual Time Trial (ITT), May 14, 2010, 9 AM, warm to hot

We lived up to our Early Bird name by arriving before Velo Promo had even set up the tent, and were perhaps the second group there.  The parking area was next to the train tracks and also the road to the local dump, so there was a pretty steady flow of trains and trucks.  I had pre-ridden the 10-mile (10.2 mi according to my computer) course the day before a few times, and noted some pretty strong headwinds on the return leg.  The course starts out flat, then has a pretty steep and short descent, followed by a barely perceptible rise for a few miles.  Towards the turnaround, there is a mild climb for a couple minutes, which levels out as the road turns right.  I had borrowed a Zipp tubular front wheel and worked out my paranoia about getting a flat the day before.  I used my time trial bike and aero helmet.  I warmed up for about 40 minutes on the trainer and then rode some on the road to get a feel for the wind, which seemed similar to, although not as strong as the day before.  We started every 30 seconds in alphabetical order (the same order as our bib numbers).  I went off at 9:21:00 behind another category 4 woman; there were 2 gaps ahead of her from no-shows.  I would use the riders ahead of me as targets.  My goal was to pass but not be passed by anyone.  I worked pretty hard on the way out and tried to go harder on the way back.  I was able to pass the rider ahead of me after about 2.5 miles and got close but did not pass a group of two further ahead.  I could hear someone behind me on the hill but was able to pull away on the flat before the finish.  I finished in a time of 29:01 and came in 6th.  I felt that I could have been more consistent in my effort and that I wasted some time by veering around the road a bit, trying to find a smoother path.

Time trial staging area.  A train full of cars passed by right before this one.

After the TT, we found the local Trader Joe's (HOORAY for that) and then relaxed for the rest of the day, aside from our stage race ritual: the ice bath.  I apologize to the other hotel visitors who tried to get ice after we were done...

Stage 2: Walker Basin Road Race (~30 mi), May 15, 2010, 9 AM, warm, some winds

Again we scored prime parking spots (next to the graveyard of course) by our early arrival after winding through some narrow canyon roads.  It was fairly cool when we arrived and I contemplated putting on knee and arm warmers and maybe a jacket; but after warming up and by the race start, it was a jersey-only kind of race.  The finish was on a climb similar to Snelling Road Race (as I recall) and we pre-rode that a few times.  We would do 3 laps with time points possible for each lap for the first three across the line, and one final, 4th lap with more points awarded for the top 3 finishers.  The course started on a mild downhill over some rough roads (but not "Madera rough"), and then turned right onto some rollers, straight into a pretty decent headwind.  It then turned right and looped back through some mild turns to the start/finish at the top of a hill.  Centerline rule was in effect (which means all racers must stay to the right of the yellow line).  Before the right turn up the finishing hill, there is a straight-away, then a left turn and brief descent.  Laurel had pointed out a road sign on the left that might be a good place to start the sprint.  The hill was longer than one might guess.

Walker Basin area. No, the race was not on the dirt road. Photo courtesy of Jill Eyres. 

We started off and made our way through the first loop.  The pack was staying together although there were surges now and then.  On the outbound long stretch, the pack really slowed and often, no one would pull through to the front.  There was a strong headwind here.  I went out as did Deanna and also riders from Tibco II, Metromint and Dolce Vita (and probably others that I missed).  But once someone started pulling, there were not many willing to take the reigns it seemed.  After taking a turn pulling, my approach was to just keep slowing until it was semi-ridiculous and someone would eventually pull through.  I felt comfortable in the pack, moving around.  I wanted to be near the front for the first lap while we got used to the course, and also wanted to stay close to the front in order to try for some points and test a finish strategy.  We made our way around and were starting on the short descent and I decided to just go for it to get ahead at that point.  Well, I was ahead at the beginning of the climb but you know how this story ends... I was passed by two then more people right before the finish line. Dang! There was a gal from Metalmtn who stayed back and then just powered up that hill like she did hill sprints in her sleep.  Anyway, I decided that the effort was probably not worth the few seconds I would gain, and decided to try and conserve a bit more, working for a better finish for this race and saving energy for the afternoon.

The pack stayed together and I tried to work up toward the front on the last straightaway stretch.  People were jockeying for good spots and I was probably in the front third but not as far up as I would have liked.  We got to the hill and I was jamming it, feeling pretty good, but needed to shift to my small chain ring.  I tried and tried but it was stuck and the hill was getting steeper then BAM! it dropped and it felt like my chain had come off.  But it hadn't.  Some people passed me and I was mad but I got it going and worked to keep ahead of the gal beside me.  She had contested the first hill points and I had passed her then.  Everyone finishing with the pack was given the same time, which was A-OK with me.

Michal, Deanna and I warmed down and then jetted out of there pretty quickly to get to the Havilah Climb race site.  We had about 4 hours to recover before the next race.  We found some prime parking in the shade and started refueling and resting for stage 3.  I was sort of guessing on how to manage my blood sugar since I had never done two longer (longer than 1 hour) races back to back like this.  Before I got on the course, my blood sugar was a little on the low side; I was hoping I didn't have too much insulin buzzing around.  I ate a chocolate GU and headed to the start.

Pinning my number while resting up for stage 3. Photo courtesy of Jill Eyres.

Stage 3: Havilah Hill Climb (~11 mi), May 15, 2010, 3 PM, hot in the sun, cooler at the top

We staged the race on the dirt road at the entryway to the ranch where we had been resting.  No one seemed able to tell us exactly how many miles we had to go. 17? 13? 15? No one seemed to know, although we were pretty sure we would have 4 miles before we got to the base of the main climb.  We started on a gradual climb--someone had said it was a neutral roll out--with Deanna setting a manageable pace.  Because of this, the pack stayed together for about 3.5 miles on what was actually a pretty steady climb (as I noticed more on the return trip).  Some people eventually got impatient and the pace took off.  We turned the corner and started the real climb.  I stayed with the main pack for a couple turns but then decided to focus on holding my own pace.  I lacked some zing in my legs and so ate a bit.  I stayed with a couple riders for a couple miles and then felt myself fading.  I ate some more but just felt crappy.  I wondered if my blood sugar was low but thought it might also be high.  I should have checked it but I didn't want to stop.  I think I ate some more but with about 3 miles to go I felt really horrible.  Michal passed me, motoring up and looking strong.  I was happy to see her having a good race.  Our good friend Julie Nevitt (category 3, racing masters) passed me around 1 or 2 miles to go and asked how I was.  I knew from my response that my blood sugar was low, since I could just barely mumble out, "Okay."  I was so happy to see Laurel around the last corner and finally made it to the top.  I finally pulled out my Dexcom and saw "45" and that it had been like that for the past 30-40 minutes.  Ugh, no wonder.  I think one reason I didn't check coming up is that when I see that, it totally deflates any remaining motivation since I start to get scared.  On the other hand, my doctor would probably pull me out if he saw that.  I should have stopped to check.  Michal took care of me at the top and helped me fuel up on watermelon and I recovered okay.  I was glad to see Deanna finish and we took some time to relax at the top a bit.  The total distance was 11 miles or so, I believe, with about 7 miles of serious climbing.  I was disappointed that I hadn't been able to give it my all, and felt like perhaps the race was over for me, in terms of reaching my goal to place well in the GC.  At least there was some great practice descending for 7 miles on twisty, gravelly roads!  I pounded out my frustration on the final 4-mile, fast descent back to our cars.

Trying to put on a smiley face after a frustrating race.

We all more or less willingly took an ice bath that night, knowing we had one big race to go.  While I was reflecting that evening, I decided that I should just try and forget about whatever time I had lost.  Who knew what would happen?

Stage 4: Iron Hill Road Race (~46 mi), May 16, 2010, 8:45 AM

I had taken a look at a course map from mapmyride.com and from what I could tell, we started on a longer descent.  Because of this, I really wanted to be in the front.  We started about 15 min late and people were huddling under the shade.  It was hot.  Soon enough we were off and I was on the front down the first hill.  Surprisingly, to me, though, it was more rolling the first several miles; I stayed in the front trying to set a good pace, expecting a longer descent at the top of each roller.  I felt like I was working pretty hard to keep the pace up as we climbed each roller.  Finally I moved back although I tried to stay close to the front.  We rode over the cattle guard (that could "kill you" if you rode over the middle according to the race official) and could see that the real descent was imminent.  Jill from Tibco II went to the front and set the pace down the hill.  I had not been quite at the front and was about 10 riders back, with a little separation and taking the inside line.  I came around a corner and saw a cloud of dirt off the side of the road, and then another rider down in the middle of the lane.  Oh no.  "Don't stop don't stop" was what went through my mind as my urge to stop and help kicked in.  (What I realized later is that in the moment, I was not thinking at all of anyone behind me, but only the rider who was down in front.  Thus it was crucial that I remembered and followed the "don't stop" rule that had been drilled into us by the mentors.  It made me feel totally inhuman at the moment but that was because there was not time to process the danger to those behind me as well.  Once I passed I remembered that there was a follow car behind us and that they would be given assistance.)  I slowed to avoid the rider and water bottles but was able to navigate around since I had taken the inside line.  I moved quickly to catch the group ahead and we finished the descent in silence.  Once it leveled off, everyone started talking about the crash.  One gal admitted to taking a line too wide and brushing the rider who came around her to the outside and who went down after the encounter.  The conversation continued, focused on the crash.  It was getting a bit negative and icky for me so after a few minutes of this I felt like it was time to move on and get things going.  Talking about the crash was not helping us to have a safer race at this point.  Jill from Tibco II, Christine from Dolce Vita and I set up a paceline; I wanted to take advantage of our break, which I felt had not been caused by the crash since I was behind it when it happened.  Still I sort of wondered if doing so at that time was a negative thing to do.  We had been riding comfortably for about 5 minutes, though, and still had a break and so it was time to get going. 

It took about 10 minutes to get things moving more smoothly in our rotating paceline.  One gal would pull off but not drift back and then the whole line would stall.  After this happened a few times, I rode up to her and just asked if she wanted to participate in a paceline. "Oh! Okay!" We increased the pace on this flatter section and our group of 8 continued until the next longer descent, where we dropped one rider.  I tried to hold up the group a little, but it didn't really work.  The momentum was moving fast and I didn't want to get dropped, too, so I picked it up again.  I had seen a really huge-looking hill on the profile and I kept expecting it at any moment.  It was when we started on the last big descent of the first loop that I realized we had already gone over the hills and that this course had a lot more flat and descending sections that I had thought.  Being in our paceline really helped make the climbs easier, since they weren't so steep that it became a truly individual effort.

Photo from the course by Jill Eyres.

Everyone chatted about the descent on the second loop and that we would all take it single file.  I wanted to be in the front, since I felt like I would naturally descend faster and wanted to keep it a comfortable but fast speed.  We all made it down safely and moved through the second lap.  I was a lot more conscientious about drinking water and eating every 40 min or so, since I knew it was hot out.  I was able to check my continuous glucose meter, and could see that I was in an okay zone.  What a huge relief.  We made it to the feed zone and I was so excited to see Laurel.  "Laurel, Laurel, I'm in the break! I'm in the break!" was what I was thinking but instead I yelled out "My bike computer is in the dirt!" since it had fallen off on the short dirt section right before.  Thank goodness Laurel picked it up! It would have been a super long and annoying trek out there otherwise, on top of a super long drive back to San Francisco.  The second time up the longer hill was tiring and felt never-ending; we could hear some music playing in the follow car behind us and someone asked them to turn it up.  So momentarily we were treated to some 90s rock music?  I can't recall the name but it I enjoyed the mini-party.  I had no computer and had no idea if we had 5 or 10 miles to go, so was so happy when he called out, "4 miles to go!" Hallelujah! Finally, we hit the descent, which had a lot of cornering but was not too technical, and rolled in close to Woody.  I knew the finish was a long climb and thought I would get dropped.  But then, in some effort at positive self-talk, I thought, "Hey Anne, you stayed with this group the whole time.  You belong!"  But I got dropped anyway (ugh!) and didn't have the energy to really push it harder.  I think there was one gal I could have beaten but knew from riding almost two laps with everyone that we had some super strong climbers in the group.  I also knew I wouldn't beat any of them for the GC, since the next time closest to me coming into this race was about 3 minutes faster.  (Thank goodness I had looked at the results beforehand.)  But I didn't want to slack too much because I had no idea how close people were coming from behind.  I just pushed through the interminable last 1 km and finally, finally reached the finish.  Lina from Metromint saved me by giving me a full bottle of chilled water after the finish.  My legs were ready to start a cramp fest.

Coming into this stage, I was about 11 minutes back; I noted that no one else seemed to pull in for about that time, or a little more.  Everyone in the break was ahead of me in the GC so my big hope was that we put enough time on the rest of the field for me to move up to 7th place.  And when it was all said and done, I finished with about a 1-min gap faster than 8th place and so was very happy to finish 7th in the GC.

I think stage races are my favorite road events, since the multi-day strategy adds a fun twist.  Also, with the various types of races, Kern balanced out peoples' strengths and weaknesses.  This particular event had a very friendly atmosphere and I got to know the other women pretty well by the end.  Of course it also provides a great opportunity to get to know each other on the team.  Also, Bob Leibold really makes the award ceremony special.  I would highly recommend this for everyone next year!  It takes 100 women for them to break even financially.  He currently puts this event on at a financial loss--it would be awesome to be able to support someone who is doing so much for women's racing in Nor Cal.

Early Birds Deanna, Michal, myself and team director Laurel (back) relaxing after a tough 3 days.

More photos from Jill can be seen here and the rest of my iPhone photos can be seen here.

The Short Story

Memorial Day weekend, I was caught up in a crash that occurred directly in front of me while racing at the Hellyer Velodrome.  The most significant injury was an open fracture of my clavicle, which was surgically repaired the next day.  The following day, Monday, I was discharged and returned to San Francisco.  Early Tuesday morning, I felt severe pain in my right side, lower rib cage area.  I thought it was an undiagnosed rib fracture perhaps, but wasn't sure. The pain would subside and then return.  It made breathing difficult although I was not short of breath. I was worried I had experienced some head trauma and that I might not be getting enough O2 to my brain.  Late afternoon, I checked into the ER, where they determined I had 3 small blood clots in my lungs.  I was admitted to the hospital immediately and started on IV heparin to help dissolve the clots.  They would never really tell me I would make it through the whole thing so it was pretty traumatic.  I stayed in the hospital for 2 more days while they started adjusting my INR, which is the measure of how much the blood is clotting.  They want mine between 2 and 3.  I am taking a heparin injection (Lovenox) twice a day and warfarin (Coumadin aka rat poison) once a day to bring my levels up.  On Thursday when I was discharged, I was at 1.5.  While on warfarin, I am at risk for severe bleeding if I experience any trauma, so bike racing is obviously out.  I think cycling is out in general, since even a slow-moving fall could result in serious injury.  Also, "strenuous" exercise is out according to my doctor--such as exercise that might put a lot of strain on the muscles. (!!)  I am finding it really hard to get any medical advice on what that means, exactly, since I don't exactly fit the typical profile for people on blood thinners.  My doctor said most of his patients are elderly and that he doesn't have anyone in their 30s or 40s.  I don't think he can really understand my life.  I feel like I have been given a 6 month sentence and that I am now this fragile person--"Handle with care."  I think my body and mind were primed from the trauma last year, and it has been hard.  It is devastating to me because I had worked really hard to recover physically and mentally from last year, and was just at the point where everything was coming together.  Now, I find myself at the beginning again.  But this time, I don't know where I am heading.

I should add, on a more positive note, that I have gotten through this completely from the support of friends and family.  Thank you for your visits, calls, emails, flowers and other gifts.  I am very grateful.  Also, the clots seem to be dissolving so the long term prognosis is good.

Race Report: Wente Vineyard Road Race

Race: Wente Vineyards Road Race
Location: Livermore, CA
Date: April 24, 2010, 12:15 PM
Weather: Sunny, moderate winds, hot--sunburn weather!
Field Size: 50
Category Raced: 4
Personal goal: Start at the front and stay there, be ahead at the start of the hill, test my climbing, work it on the descents/flats, test my pack comfort level! Race!

I was looking forward to this race as a test of both my fitness and my pack riding comfort level.  The group rides I've been going on have been ridiculously hard at times and I figured I could at least put a
similar effort into this race.  They have also really helped my comfort level riding fast in a group.  I tried to view this race as more or less like another group ride.  I felt relaxed and at ease before the race.  We arrived with plenty of time to get ready and I had a good warm-up on my trainer.

With the big field and the early climb, I knew I wanted to be on the front at the start, so I made an effort to position myself well. The promenade to the first turn was mellow and I enjoyed riding next to one of my teammates, Stephanie.  We were just one or two rows back and riding together and I ended up being surrounded a little.  She asked if I was okay and I realized I was totally comfortable.  Cool.  Pretty soon we hit the hill and I just tried to work it as much as I could.  I fell back some as the group started to splinter but was holding some ground.  We hit the feed zone while still climbing, and I looked for Laurel, our team director.  Yeah!  There she was.  There was a short downhill section after the feed zone and finish line, which was very welcome.  I saw my teammate Yuko ahead and also Alissa, who cheered me on to go go go.  We hit the second part of the hill and I just kept it going at a steady pace.  I held back a little because I just didn't want to burn it all up on the first lap. Well, I guess I should say, I was going very hard but not trying to sprint up the hill.  People were sort of scattered at the top and I finally caught another gal.  We worked together and then saw Yuko.  We were starting to descend quickly so I yelled loudly for her to get going and hop on!  We picked up a few others here and there and had a group of around 5 or 6 through the descent.  I was really happy with the descent on this course--it was fast and not too technical, other than the couple of sharp turns that were marshaled.  (Hello hay bales!) I pulled down the descent until the left turn at the bottom, and then we started rotating a bit.  Another gal in our group pulled through the next descent and I was happy to follow in the draft!

We hit the flats and a gal in our group organized us into a rotating paceline.  We were closing in on the chase group and worked in the wind, finally catching them.  People started to relax a bit before we caught them, though, and I had this memory from group rides of being that close but still getting dropped.  I said, "We're not there yet!" and we had to work a little after the next turn to get fully attached.  Well, I did, anyway. We went up a short climb there and the draft was pretty awesome. Descending on the other side, I felt comfortable riding in the mix and moved around our group--I think there were maybe 12-15 of us at this point?  Anyway, I pulled a bit but also rode in the pack and felt totally comfortable doing this.  A lot of times in the past when riding in a pack, I have this little voice that is expecting disaster to strike.  But it was gone. I just felt like I would on a normal ride.  I think being more confident with my own riding has helped considerably because then I am able to focus better on the situation around me.  Also I have gotten more accustomed to having to having to brake ever so slightly when descending in a pack to control my speed.  This is something that has unnerved me in the past.

We hit the climb the second time and I more or less stayed with people but was also thinking, "Hey I pulled for y'all, do you have to hammer it up the hill?" But oh well it is a race and all's fair in love and war and bike racing?  Hmmm... Anyway I dropped back a bit and was definitely off the back at the beginning of the descent.  I had the group pretty close in my sights and advanced closer down the descent.  At that left turn at the bottom, I was pretty close but again knew I was not safe yet.  I thought, "It's now or never, Anne, get moving!" and just worked as hard as I could to get back in.  We went through the next descent and flats again. Briefly I thought about organizing Yuko and a couple other women who were also at the front a lot into a break if they were up for it.  We had a group of about 8-10 riders and I was feeling pretty dehydrated and a little crampy and knew I didn't have a lot to give on the final climb to the finish.  So if we took everyone to the climb then I knew I would lose a lot of places; I was a little afraid I would completely blow up if I put in a hard effort at that point.  I was able to control the pace by staying at the front a bit there.  No one wanted to pull so I just kept it easy for myself.  I tried to stay ahead of Yuko, hoping she could rest a bit before the finish.  We finally hit it and I felt like my goals had been met at that point.  I just didn't want anyone from behind our chase group to pass me so I worked it up that last hill with a little caution since my calves were cramping.

I was really happy with this race because it was the first race I have done since before my crash where I was really racing with my mind fully engaged.  Prior, I have felt like I was either in observation mode or just riding with something nagging at me to stay out.  It was super hard and there was a point about 3/4 of the way through where I thought, "Really?  Does this have to continue?"  But I felt comfortable in the group and was really happy that we were able to catch the chase group and that I stayed with them more or less until the final climb.  I was so happy to find Yuko and to work with her.  I knew she would do awesome on that final climb!  I probably should be more patient when the pace slows in the pack and not take the front so readily; on the other hand, I didn't want our group to be caught from behind.  When another gal said, "You really love to pull!" I did not take this as a compliment!  It's true though!  Also I definitely need to pay more attention to hydration.  I didn't even drink one full bottle...maybe 1/2 a bottle?  That really caught up with me in the end. I think with more hot weather races, I will also try using salt tabs or something similar.

Here's a link to a photo taken on the climb!  I think I am grimacing but maybe it looks a little better than my super-serious marathon face?  You'd have to ask my mom and aunt, who have been the most frequent recipients.

Early Bird Crit, Revisited

Last year after my horrible crash, when I was still unable to get out of bed without crying tears of pain, I was faced with the decision of whether I would get a kit (jersey + bike shorts) for the bike race team I had joined.  "Why in the world would I even consider this?"  The final diagnosis had been fractures in my left clavicle, 9 posterior ribs (if I add up all the fractures reported on the Xrays) and L2 transverse process, pleural effusion, severe bruising and road rash.  I have never gone through anything else even remotely as painful, physically, as that experience.  But, I decided that it was not a good time to make the decision to quit.  I would order the kit.

As the months passed, I thought a lot about what I would do with bike racing.  I debated, "Do I actually want to get over this crash?"  Was the right thing to recover and get back in the game, or take my exit?  One might say that it is brave to go back, to face the fears.  On the other hand, what about the notion of learning from one's experience in order to avoid harm in the future?  Perhaps it would be foolish?  What risks could I live with for something that was not required to get along in life?

So early this year, when I decided to attend the Early Bird clinics, I wasn't planning on participating in the practice races.  Last year, I had decided that I would never do a crit again.  Crits equalled crashing in my mind, even though I had seen many friends get through them successfully, uninjured.  I had done 3 of the practice crits and 8 hours of clinics leading up to that race; but those were trumped by one very bad race.  All of this year's Early Bird clinics and practice races, as well as the official crit, were on the same course where I crashed last year, and I hadn't been back since that day.  

When I got there the first week, all the memories came pouring back in. I remembered where I had tossed my arm warmers right before the start (and had seriously regretted later).  Were they still there?  I remembered where I had parked my car, and how a friend's friend had retrieved it for me, since I was in the hospital (and wouldn't be driving for 2 months).  I remembered that trip to the hospital on the spine board, wondering what this would mean for me.  This year, in the first clinic, we were practicing pacelines and one of the mentors was repeatedly encouraging me to move up right on the wheel in front of me; I kept resisting, frustrating him.  All my brain could handle was just riding my bike around that course; feeling pushed to do more put me over the edge emotionally and I pulled out in protest, muttering "I can't do this."  After some moments riding solo and regaining some composure, I joined back up and continued the drill.  Each time I passed that spot, an image of crashing flashed across my mind; but, I noticed that the emotional aspect of it lessened and I was able to focus more on the drill.

My plan was to sit out the practice race; but I thought that, perhaps, I could at least go to the start line. And maybe I could just do one lap, and see how I felt.  Taking the pressure off myself to try to do well, or to even complete the race, allowed me the freedom to relax and just take it at my own pace.  I went one lap with the pack and realized, "I am okay."  I went another and decided I could keep going a few more. When I say "with the pack," I should really say "behind the pack."  I just hung on, not really even in the draft much, prompting frequent "Close the gap!" comments from the mentors.  Really, I was listening; but I just couldn't get in there.

As the weeks progressed, I had some moments where I broke off ahead of the pack. Most of the time I was consumed again; although, I came in 5th at one race.  But in my mind, breaking off was basically an escape, as if the pack behind me was a tsunami wave that might consume me if I were caught.  When the pack did catch me again, I would drop to the back and give up the fight.  I just was not comfortable.  And a couple crashes in those weeks seemed to prove my point. See? I was right to stay out of there.  On the other hand, I also remembered something I had forgotten: I really enjoyed this.  Although I had enjoyed the practice crits the year before, these feelings had been completely silenced by the louder memories of my crash.

Today, I arrived in Fremont after attending all of the clinics and practice races; still I felt uncertain about this, the official race.  I would continue with my "one lap at a time" motto and allow myself to quit if I felt really uncomfortable.  I knew, though, that I would want to complete the race.  We got to the start and I was relieved to see they would continue splitting our field into racers who had completed 10 or more and those who had completed fewer than 10 races.  The weather was similar to last year--sunny and warm--and I could have tossed my arm warmers.  I kept them on.

As we began the race, I noticed that I was much more comfortable, at least staying with the pack (well, most of the time).  I again took the position in the back, but at least stayed in the draft more than before.  I didn't go for any breaks; my main goal for the race was to become more comfortable pedaling through the corners with the pack, remembering how I used to feel doing that.  As the race wore on and as one mentor, aware of my corner anxiety by now, gave me helpful pointers, my confidence increased.  Why, if I was going the same speed and following the lines of other riders, would I be the one to go down?  I started to feel the road better, and to feel my anxiety a little less.  I stayed in the pack a little more at times, but just focused on being safe.  I found the advice to keep a broader view of the race, rather than to focus on the wheels just ahead of me, to be very helpful in anticipating the pack slowing and surging.  I can't say that I was totally comfortable, but I wasn't miserable either.

We approached the last lap, which was when I crashed last year.  The last lap can be dicey, when people are tired and positioning themselves for the final sprint.  I wasn't sure if I would try anything or just coast in.  I could see that some people were not going for it and I thought I might as well move up a little.  I gave it a good effort and crossed the line feeling happy and relaxed (well, and completely winded).  It was over and there was no repeat trip to the hospital.

Earlier in January, I had wanted Tara to take me to the point on the course where she had witnessed my crash; I was obsessed with going over every detail.  I thought that I still wanted to hear her perspective on that today.  As we were riding over, I thought, "I don't even really care about this anymore."  She gave me her feedback, but somehow, I just felt like the story was old and over, like a movie that had become boring after too much viewing.  I was done.

I still suspect it may take me time to get totally comfortable; but I think, now, that this is more a matter of me just becoming more skilled, rather than carrying a lot of fear from the crash.  I will definitely be very mindful and careful and will respect my intuition; I will continue to give myself the freedom to pull out of a race if it feels unsafe.  But I am really excited to feel free of this mental block that has been holding me back.  I didn't know whether doing this race would really make a difference; my sense today is that it has. I feel excited and happy to be opening the next chapter, to see what stories will unfold.

New Year

Last year was one of those extra special years that leaves one changed forever.  Learning lessons in having patience with oneself and life's circumstances does not come without some struggle.  Becoming a more empathetic person can be painful.  As I approach the one year mark after my bike crash, my bones are healed and I am riding my bike again with joy.  Still, I have frequent reminders--pain here or there, or thoughts of reflection--that tell me it's not over yet.  And I wonder what subconscious lessons I have drawn from these experiences.  Am I less trusting of myself and others?  Will my sense of fear of re-injury and pain hold me back from taking risks--risks that could, ultimately, lead me to something greater than I could imagine now?  How do I let go and become fully engaged, both physically and mentally, again?

Originally for 2010 I had signed up for Ironman St. George, excited to race on a course familiar to me after running the marathon there several times.  I signed up when I wasn't even back to work after my crash, before I had taken a single pedal stroke on my bike again.  After Ironman Arizona in November, I told myself to wait until January 1st to make any decisions.  As the new year approached, it became clearer and clearer that I did not want to do this race.  My knee injury that bothered me during the marathon at Ironman Arizona was not healing quickly and I did not want to spend another several months playing the "Does it hurt too much to run?" game.  I needed a break.

I feel fortunate that I was able to do so many events during the second half of 2009: Death Ride, Barb's Race, Folsom Olympic, 3 road races, Lotoja, and Ironman Arizona.  As I wrote before, the Triabetes events in Tempe were amazing and made the struggle getting there 100% worth it.  But I feel like I need and want to take a step back from the super endurance events (Ironman and double centuries!) and focus on healing my body and giving my mind a break.

As soon as I made the decision, I was so relieved and happy.  After 4 Ironman races in 3 years, I was really caught up in the energy and thrill of the sport; and doing the last two with Triabetes has been a gift.  But I have to say, not having that big pressure is exactly what I need right now.

"Taking a break" to me means taking the pressure off any one huge event.  I am still training, focusing mostly on cycling this year.  I will also continue to swim, because I have really been enjoying it and also because it really helps my upper back and left arm stay loose.  And there will be events that I will target; still, I am allowing myself to take things at a slower pace and to appreciate incremental steps of progress.

Threatened by Driver of a Black Truck in Portola Valley

Today, I was out for my first ride since Ironman Arizona, and was enjoying a leisurely ride on the Peninsula. Heading back towards Woodside on Portola Road through Portola Valley, I rounded the corner and was heading down that smooth, gradual descent that just makes me happy to ride. There is a wide bike lane and although people often drive fast, traffic is usually light, and was today. I was approaching the intersection with Westridge when an older, dull green BMW, followed closely by a large, black pickup truck both passed me. The BMW's right-turn blinker was flashing. I also noticed some items in the bed of the black truck as it passed. There wasn't really time for the BMW driver to turn right but he proceeded anyway, and both the truck driver and I slowed a little as he turned. No big deal. The truck wasn't making any indication that he would be turning right, and I continued along downhill. It was impossible to believe he hadn't seen me, and we were already too close to the intersection for him to turn. When we were already both passing through the intersection, he screeched forward as he accelerated hard and then turned right, wheels squealing, onto the left side of Westridge, cutting in front of me. He continued to speed away quickly as I yelled some choice words; I noticed that the driver side window was up and figured he probably didn't hear me anyway. It was really close.

Momentarily I was just mad but then quickly became completely emotional and could hardly even ride--my legs were shaking on the pedals and I lost the spirit to go on. I saw a similar-looking black truck pass me again on Portola and wondered if it was the same one; it seemed entirely possible that the truck driver had not turned for any reason other than to threaten me. I pretty much coasted all the way to the turn-off to Woodside. I think it was just enough stress to open up some buried fears and emotions. I didn't have any flashbacks, but on a deep, maybe even subconscious, level I felt like I had come very close to serious injury, at least; furthermore, there was no doubt in my mind that this was a deliberate act on his part. Why would someone do that? Practical concerns kicked in because with the 15 minutes of easy riding I started to get really cold, and needed to pedal again. The emotional response eventually subsided and then I was just mad. I decided I would call the cops and report the guy. There was probably nothing that would come of it; but I figured this was probably not the first or last time this guy would do something like this. Anyway, it was all I could do. I stopped and made the quick phone call, and the police said they would send someone to check it out. They took it seriously, and noted all the details. I'm pretty sure that by that time, though, the truck was long gone. Mostly I just wanted to make a report so that it was on their record.

I don't know if this guy was mad at cyclists for some reason, but I was just riding along, alone, to the side of the road. I try to be courteous to drivers, especially near places like Woodside that see a lot of bike traffic on a regular basis. It doesn't really matter, though; this driver was using his truck as a way to physically threaten, and potentially harm me. I hope he takes a look at the news coming from So Cal and thinks a little more before trying this stunt again. I sort of doubt it would make a difference to him though.

Be careful out there.

Race Report: Lotoja 2009

Event: Lotoja (206-mi race from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming)
Date: 9/12/2009
Weather: cool, pleasant in the morning; a little warm/hot midday and cooling considerably by the finish; moderate winds during first 2/3 of the ride during open stretches
Teammates present: raced with 4 other friends on our team, the "Part-time Models": Jane Bergeson, Rita Ogden, Erika Feinauer, and Kristan Warnick. Jerseys were donated by Jane's sister from Contender Bicycles. SAG by Contender plus some team friends/family.
Other teams present: various, mostly local teams
Category raced: women cat 4 in a mixed race with women cat 1/2/3
Goal: stay with the pack until at least Preston and finish the race before the 8:15 PM cutoff.

(Note: making it through this whole post is an endurance event, perhaps to reflect the nature of Lotoja...I'm not sure my mom will even get through it this time.)

For 2009, I had the goal of doing mostly cycling--focusing on bike races and longer endurance events--until late summer, when I would transition to full Ironman training. With this in mind, I signed up for Lotoja with several other friends, as soon as I was relatively confident I would be able to get back on the bike. Lotoja is a 206-mile bike race (or ride) from Logan, Utah (~4500'), to Jackson, Wyoming (~6500'), with about 10,000' elevation gain. The event has USAC race as well as fun ride categories; although our intention was to ride together in the fun ride group, we ended up in the women's cat 4 race. I think I was the only one initially happy about that. My training included doing the Death Ride in July, the Santa Cruz Mountain Challenge Century (highly recommended!), and a string of triathlons and bike road races. My longest training ride for Lotoja was the Death Ride--129 miles, but done back in July. I felt strong on the bike leading up to Lotoja, but wondered if my body, especially my back, would hold up for such a long ride.

Compressing 206 miles into a 3-inch picture leaves out a few details.

We were treated with pleasantly cool, clear weather the morning of the race. Making one of the largest teams, the five of us lined up on the front with about 35 other women. Perhaps our matching Contender jerseys got us a little more respect? At precisely 6:58 AM, we were off, winding our way out of Logan and onto some country roads. The pace was manageable and I was comfortable staying toward the front during this mostly flat stretch. After 5-10 miles the pack narrowed and someone managed to organize a rotating paceline with the front 20 or so riders. I found myself moving up to the front in the left line and watched the women in front rotate clockwise in a continuous motion. It was a beautiful sight, moving smoothly and efficiently! I found it tricky to accurately gauge the speed of the line moving back but one of the women gave me a tip of just slowing by about 1/2 to 1 MPH once I moved over. The paceline was moving pretty quickly but I didn't have to work too much. But of course, I found myself in front when we hit one of the few short uphill sections. I didn't want to be the one to slow down the group, so worked hard to keep the pace going. Well, I looked back and there were just a few of us off the front. Duh! Anyway, I felt comfortable in the pack and reflected several times how relaxed I felt. Because we were riding the first 34 miles of a 206-mile race, there was no need to be too assertive, and there were no attacks. Soon enough, we were at the first feedzone in Preston, Idaho, where we met up with our SAG team.

I tested my blood sugar and was pretty horrified to see "435" staring back at me. Twenty minutes before the race, I had been 120 and had eaten 1 gel for a little boost. By the race start I was 177 and felt that, once things got going, I would drop a little. I did not consume any carbs those first 34 miles, but the effort was greatly reduced by being in the pack. This is the part of bike racing that seems so hard to manage--the effort is not necessarily predictable. Or perhaps it is, but I am not good at predicting it. Still, 430 from one gel? I bolused a couple units, drank lots of water, and rejoined the race. It took what seemed like forever to get my BG below 300, and I had to bolus another couple units. I don't like taking boluses >1 unit when I am exercising but needed to be more aggressive here.

There was a little climb out of Preston, with a fabulous descent, and then some flat/rolling sections. The pack either got out of the feedzone before us (likely) or splintered, but we found a few others to ride with. I think any notions of rejoining the pack were abandoned after our bathroom break, though. I was happy to continue with friends and just enjoy the day. Still, we would have to maintain an average pace of 16 MPH to finish in time. From the course description, this seemed doable. A few miles later, I dropped my chain off the small chain ring. I made a big mistake by telling everyone to keep going, because the chain was really jammed and it took me a few minutes to get rolling again. I was then riding alone and fighting the wind a bit; I didn't want to work too hard to get back, but I didn't want to ride alone either. I had another chain drop incident, this time off of my big chain ring. A guy nearby said, "You dropped your chain." "Yeah, I know," and I wondered if I could get it back on without moving it by hand. Inspired by a teammate's recent dropped chain victory at the Giro di San Francisco, I tried to move the chain by shifting to the small chain ring while pedaling very gingerly. It worked! The chain dropped to the small ring and I was able to shift it back up. I got a cheer from the guy nearby and was on my way again. (Thanks, Sarah!)

After a few more miles, I was happy to see Rita drifting back to pick me up. Soon enough, we started our first significant climb of the day: Mink Creek. The grade was not too steep and there were plenty of easier sections throughout this long climb. I still felt pretty fresh and enjoyed the scenery on the way up. I reached the neutral feedzone near the summit and waited for Rita to rejoin. There was a nice descent on the backside and then many flat miles on the approach to Montpelier. It was quite windy on this section and I was really hoping to find our front 3 riders, so pushed it here. At one point, I saw a group ahead and thought I saw our jerseys in there but alas, it was another group. I had been expecting a little more downhill from the elevation map but, really, it just felt flat. I was torn between trying to catch our group and slowing down to ride in with Rita.

Finally, I pulled into Montpelier and saw our crew. My parents had decided to drive up to cheer us on and I was very happy to see them there. After restocking and resting for a few minutes, we were off again; Jane was ahead but we had a group of 4 together again. There was another shorter climb and another great descent. We regrouped for the flattish stretch before the 3rd big climb of the day at Salt River Pass. We were at mile 110 or so and my high blood sugar woes were a thing of the past--I was hovering around 85-100, about 40-50 points lower than I like to be during a race. A BG below 100 can very quickly drop to a seriously low level for me, and I generally feel hypoglycemic at anything less than 110 during intense exercise. I felt pretty bad on this climb and had no motivation to push it for the Queen of the Mountain timed race. This was also the warmest section and very exposed to the sun. Mercifully, the climb was not too long. I have no memory of the ride into Afton, the next feedzone where we met up with our SAG crew.

Star Valley, Wyoming was a section well-suited to pacelining and I hoped we could keep our speed up here. (Here is a youtube clip.) Unfortunately, my ITB near my knee, which has bothered me since Barb's Race, acted up again and I also started feeling the effects of a long day on the saddle! I was feeling okay in the paceline but at one point, I just dropped off. I knew I should have said something but didn't even have the energy. I ate some more food and was grateful that Rita came back to see what was up. Pulling over, I checked my BG, which was around 80. After a short break, I felt a little rejuvenated but just didn't have a lot of energy, and didn't enjoy the pain. Around mile 150, I noticed that my left arm and shoulder were starting to feel tired and I was having a harder time keeping a normal posture. I felt good pulling on the downhill sections, where I could help with the pace, but was not feeling great otherwise.

Pulling into Alpine, I was relieved and dismayed to see that we had 47 miles to go. I knew we had to finish this in about 3 hours, which would have been no problem under other circumstances. This stretch goes up the canyon with spectacular views of the Snake River; with a mild grade and some rolling sections, maintaining 16 MPH average should have been easy. But facing another 3 hours on the bike was daunting. We picked up another rider here and there, and made our way. Thanks to Rita who took the flat/uphill sections, we eventually got through. I continued to do my best to pull on the downhills, which were never as long or steep as one would hope. I saw people rafting down the river, and told myself I needed to come back to visit again someday. It would be a fantastic ride if one started from Alpine!

We stopped at the last aid station around mile 175 and eventually made it to the turnoff from the highway. I was in pretty serious pain from my knee and saddle discomfort and never felt sure of how many miles we had left. After the longest 15 miles ever, we witnessed the gorgeous spectacle of the sunset over the Tetons, and saw a happy sign: "5 km." All races should be measured in kilometers! Those last 5 km fell away and we finished, a few minutes after 8 PM and before the finish line came down at 8:15. It was a relief to be off the bike and I was happy that all five of us had finished. I would not have been able to get through this without Rita especially, my other teammates and our wonderful SAG crew. Our official time was 13:04 for 206 miles.


Crossing the finish line at last!

Positives: I was happy that I felt good the first 110 miles, and that, for the most part, I felt good on the climbs. Feeling comfortable in the pack was a big step for me, and very enjoyable. It sort of turned the 200-miler into a 170-miler (sort of). I was glad I got my BG down, even though it seemed to take several hours. Having great support on the course made this a great experience, and I am proud of our whole team for finishing in time.

Needs improvement: I feel better when my BG's are in the right zone, which they weren't for most of this ride. Instead of overreacting to seeing 120 on my meter, and eating a gel, I should have trusted that my basal rates were in the right place. This was tricky because it seems that high altitude has an effect; but it's one I don't feel confident relying on yet. Also, when I was trying to increase my BG later in the race, I should have made a more drastic reduction of my basal rate, or forced myself to eat more. I am very happy that I finished, but I like to finish strong, which was not the case. I felt like I had the strength to ride better but was held back by recent and longer-term injuries. (Don't worry--I am very grateful that I had the opportunity to discover that 150 miles was the limit for my shoulder and back. But on the other hand, I look forward to the time when my left side catches back up to my right.)

Would I do it again? I think my statement at the end was, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me." But I think it is likely that my sign-up-for-race-itis will get the better of me on this one again.

This sort of sums up my feelings at the end.