99 sheep jumped over the fence, 98 sheep jumped over the fence, 97 zzzzzzz. I am not much of a sleeper, never have been. I’ve counted sheep all the way down to the negative numbers, have tried to black out my brain, have tried an assortment of drugs (mostly in my teenage years) and have even resorted to stuffing a pillow over my head and hoping for the best, but for the most part, none of it works. On average, I get maybe 6 hours, if I’m lucky, in a night. But after last night, of which I got 10.5 full hours of sleep and even slept in, I’m thinking I may have found the miracle sleep deprivation cure: Tri Night!
Now, before I continue, I must apologize to my dear husband, whose opinion I value so greatly and who in most cases I agree with whole heartedly, but who, after reading the next line of this post, may very well consider me a turncoat. But it must be said: Those triathletes, while they may in fact be weird, (I mean really, who enjoys swimming in a germ infested pool, really?) they are so freaking hardcore!
First up: 30 minutes in the pool, which practically is a marathon in itself when you factor in dodging the germs and the pervs, and the splashers, of which there were many last night, and then the actual workout too. That’s a lot of energy being burned. And while I don’t actually swim, (has something to do with the fact that despite my granny and cousin being Olympic swimmers, I’m more akin to a lead weight in the pool) I was aqua jogging.
ROUND 1: AQUA JOG
- 5:45 p.m. BG before: 6.4 (granola bar, no bolus)
- Temp. basal: -100 per cent
- Time: 35 minutes
- 6:30 p.m. BG after: 2.0 (Crud!)
Going into Tri Night I was nervous as hell, not because I feared these hardcore folk would blow me out of the water with their athleticism, nah, nothing like that, but because my blood sugars are notorious for plummeting both in the water and on the bike. And sure enough, I left Round 1 with the shakes. I actually physically felt myself lose steam, and by lose steam, I mean practically going under the water, had to grab on to the rope, on the last lap back while still in the deep end. Oh crud. Good thing for DEX sugar tablets, of which I had three, Hershey’s chocolates, of which I had a huge chunk, and my favourite Iron chickie’s pineapple, of which I had two big chunks – and a new revelation of sorts.
Pineapple is brilliant. First off, it tastes awesome, not like bananas which inevitably induce the gag reflex after a hard workout, AND they have mondo amounts of sugar in them. Seriously, one chunk of pineapple and my blood sugars are soaring, which is perfect for hard workouts. I’ve just got to figure out how to take them with me on my long runs without getting all sticky fingered.
ROUND 2: THE BIKE
- 6:45 p.m. BG before: 4.0 (not where I like to start a ride)
- Temp basal: -100 per cent
- Distance: 15.5 km (I think it was set in km)
- Time: 45 minutes
- 7:45 p.m. BG after: 8.1
Spinny bikes confuse the hell out of me. First, I had to figure out how to move the bloody thing, which only had one set of wheels on the front, and then I nearly took out the mirror while doing so, which 7 years of bad luck right before a half marathon and a marathon probably wouldn’t be the greatest thing to take on at this moment. Then, I had to figure out how to adjust the bloody thing to fit me. And then I had to figure out how the bloody gears worked, there were no shifters on the handles like a real bike, oh no, they got to be all complicated with one dial gear thingy on the front that goes up or down. And by the time I got all that figured out, we’re going on hill climbs, and while I don’t understand the whole gear shifter thing, I do understand that at 16 and 18, it’s freaking, sweat-puddling-below-me hard!
ROUND 3: THE RUN
- 7:45 p.m. BG before: 8.1
- Temp. basal: -100 per cent
- Distance: 5.02 km
- Average pace: 6.05 min/km
- Time: 30:35
- 8:30 p.m. BG after: 8.4
- Temp. basal: +50 per cent (1 hour)
I was so looking forward to this part, oh yes I was, and my blood sugars were perfect before the start, which made it even more exciting. And then, when the boys (Evil Pace Bunny and the one who shall remain unnamed until he starts reading my blog) announced that I would be the pacer for the evening, I was honoured … for a second. It didn’t take long, when I looked at who I would be running with (the boys and my favourite iron chickie) to realize the only reason I was selected to set the pace was because I was the slowest of the pack. Dammit! I made a concerted effort to push my pace, I was huffing and puffing up the hills, I did slow down a bit, but I refused to be broken, and I finished strong with a good 5:25 clip – and yet, for them, it was a leisurely pace! Dammit!
I’m thinking maybe my British themed lunch with my favourite running chick possibly wasn’t the best nutrition to be sticking in my belly before Tri Night, just a thought. But so tasty!
And just you wait you crazy ironfolk, next time, there won’t be finger sandwiches, or mini quiches or petit fours filling my belly.
Please don’t hurt me next time You’re going down 😉