Mette Ivie Harrison's Blog, page 84
September 18, 2011
rac report Kokopelli 2011: Redemption
I did not crash! That is probably the most important thing about this race. It wasn't a perfect race, but it was a good one.
I drove 5 hours down to St. George to get to the race venue, stayed overnight in a hotel I would probably not go back to. I had dinner from one of my favorite restaurants (Durango's) that is now only located there. I also got to listen to James Marsters read Harry Dresden, one of the funnest things ever. So all good things.
As usual, I forgot a couple of things. One I could replace by buying more BodyGlide at the registration booth for the race. The other was sandals, which I regretted not having for the drive, mostly.
I got up plenty early for the race, which didn't start until 9:30 for my wave. They actually did the sprint first, which I personally appreciated a lot. That way there was a lot less crossover potential on the doubly used course, particularly at the bike turnaround.
They also did the kids' race first, which was lots of fun for me to watch. I got choked up thinking about my own kids doing triathlon with me and my husband. It's really satisfying to see your children face those challenges bravely, and the difficulties are not that much different. On a different scale, but there are still kids who sale through and kids who cry and puke, but keep going. Or don't. It's all good.
I got to watch the sprinters leave in waves. Everyone had a color coded cap, so you could see during the race who was in your group and who wasn't. My group had salmon colored caps, so while I was in the water I could occasionally look up and see people who I was actually competing against, at least until I was out of the water. I liked that. I also liked the sense that the race was well organized. They had aid stations on the bike as well as the run. I didn't use the bike stations, because I carry my own gatorade, but it was nice nonetheless.
The water was perfect. There is no water as nice to swim in as at Sand Hollow State Park. I could literally see straight to the bottom in many places and I didn't have the sense that I was breathing in dead fish. The water was cool but not cold. We jumped in off the dock and that was a great sensation. I usually walk in slowly. I chatted with another woman there who had done some of the same races I had and who asked me about Ironman St. George. Then we were off.
I could sight easily because I had new goggles, my Speedo Hydrospex which are the best goggles in the world and the only goggles that should ever be sold IMHO. The one mistake I made was that I turned at the wrong buoy on the second lap and started swimming across the course. A guy on a kayak came after me and told me to go back. I probably lost a minute or so from that. Not a big deal in the end. I tried not to beat myself up over it. I was passing a lot of guys who had started in earlier waves and that was a theme for the whole course. It wasn't bad because there weren't a lot of them. In a couple of spots I became aggressive swimming between people. Sorry if I was rude to anyone!
I got out of the water and from that point on, it was almost impossible to tell who I was competing against and who I wasn't. Obviously, I wasn't competing against the guys since they started in different waves. But there were two waves of women, one of the younger women who started at least 5 minutes earlier. I kept checking legs but a lot of numbers wear off in the sweat of a race and they're kind of hard to spot on a bike anyway. I shrugged and just kept going at my own pace. I usually take more than 2 minutes in transition, but this transition was under 45 seconds because of the shoes on bike plan. I was actually #1 among all the women in T1, so that is something I have definitely improved on.
As last time, I put my shoes on my bike and biked barefoot a bit until I could get my feet in. I'm pretty sure I need a lot more practice on this. I certainly didn't see anyone else in barefeet. At mile 4, we hit a significant hill. I geared down, determined not to stand. In a longer race, it makes sense to stand so you can work out some kinks, but this wasn't long enough and sitting is a more efficient way to pedal. You don't lose energy to uneven strokes. My bike computer was fixed this week so that it accurately represents my speed. Before it was always about 10% ahead because it was set for 700 cc wheels and I have 650 cc wheels. That made me feel a little slower, plus the fact that it was uphill. But I got my gus in and kept going.
At the sprint turnaround, you can bet I went slow and didn't pass anyone, even if they looked like they were going through. At the Olympic turnaround, I slowed almost to a stop to turn. That was also where I got a chance to see how many women were ahead of me. I'm not perfect at spotting women vs men in biking gear. Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes not so much. I counted 5 women ahead of me, the best one about 10 minutes ahead. I didn't think I would catch them, though in fact I caught one. She caught me back in transition, though. I ended up finishing third on the bike in final times, and that's about what I can do on my best days. A couple of guys complimented me on my biking, and I said I have a nice bike, which I do. One of the guys said that yeah, but I had to have an engine to turn those wheels. I do have a good engine in my biking legs.
I got my feet back out of my shoes on the last mile and ran into transition barefoot. Not sure if that was right, either. I put on my new super fast sockless triathlon shoes which I love and make me feet super fast, even if they are hot pink, my least favorite color. Then I headed out at what felt like a steady pace I could keep up for about an hour. I passed A LOT of people on the run. I think this is mainly because of the wave system. A lot of the slower men were still ahead of me because they started 15 minutes ahead. So I'd passed them earlier, in a way. They just didn't know it.
One moment was really fun, when I was passing a couple of teenage guys. They were going maybe 9 minute pace, but I blew by them. They made some comment about a fast chick. Then they looked at my leg and saw how old I was and they seemed to think I was pretty cool. That was nice. A lot of guys complimented me and I just waved. Honestly, I don't have the breath to talk while racing, especially on the run. If you heard me breathing, you'd understand. I almost drowned on a cup of water I tried to drink because I was breathing so hard and inhaled it. I admit that I counted every step. I was doing a mile in about 730 steps, which is fast for me. It was a hilly course and I finished in just under 8 minute miles total.
At the turnaround for the run I again got to see how many women were ahead of me. It was still 5, although one guy told me I was third. I figured he was just miscounting. There were 5 that I counted, and 3 three of those were within the 5 minute window that might mean I could catch them. I couldn't really tell their age. It was over 80 at this point, hot but not unbearable. I took in as much water as I could and took in one last gu. I hate gu, but I take it anyway, and I've gone to water over gatorade on the run because if it spills all over me, I don't get sticky.
For the first time EVER in a race, I was not passed on the run. One of my goals going into the race was to try to be passed by only a couple of women on the run. Not that I can control that absolutely, but that was what I wanted. I ended up finishing the run 6th of the women for that leg, and that's a really good result for me. I don't consider myself a runner. I run, but I don't love it. I'm most comfortable in the water, and I am always fastest on the bike. Sometimes I wonder if this is proof that I pace myself badly, but I actually think it just means I am newest to running, not starting until a few years ago.
Anyway, I hit the final uphill stretch and tried to push it in. I knew there was a woman under a minute behind me because I'd seen her at the turnaround. It's a pain not knowing exactly how close someone behind you is, but I didn't turn back to see. I didn't do an all out sprint, but I pushed hard and finished in 2:26. That's :31 for the swim (the fastest woman finished in :26, and I'm usually 3-4 minutes back from the fastest woman, so I think it was just long for everyone.) The bike I finished in 1:03 for 20 miles of hills. I wish I could have gone faster, but I was a little freaked out and kept slowing so as to avoid hitting other bikes and cars and the road on downhills. Need to work on that. The run I finished in :49, and it was really hilly, too, so I'm happy I kept it under 8 minutes per mile on that course and in that heat.
I got a bottle of water at the finish line, a quarter bagel, half banana and a quarter orange. I was still dripping sweat for the next ten minutes, so I stayed where it was cool under a tent. When I started to feel cool again and not so sweaty, I went out and looked at results. My results weren't up yet, so I went back to my bike and started to put things away to get ready to go.
This race had a spaghetti lunch/dinner free for athletes, so I went over and had that. I don't know if it was the food or me, but it was hard to choke it down. I felt bad, but I threw away the bread stick. I don't usually like them anyway. A couple more guys found me and said "363," you passed me on the run way fast. This is where I get into tricky situations. I mean to be nice, so I said that I had new shoes and they made me feel great. Looking back, that seems fine. But then one of the guys said he was fighting a blister on his foot that was killing him. I was trying to commiserate, so I told him I was dealing with the same thing from the 30 mile run I did on Tuesday when I lost two toenails. Now, looking back, I realize that sounded like bragging. Darn it! He mumbled something about how I must be in really good shape to do that long of a run and come do this race at my pace.
Sigh!
I went back to the results area and found out that I'd come in sixth, which was what I expected. The top three women had times listed under an hour, which was clearly wrong, but I shrugged it off. I was only 2nd in my age group as far as I could tell. The woman who beat me is an old, old nemesis of mine whom I haven't met up with for years. She's always ranked higher than me on the USAT lists, so I wasn't surprised she beat me. I was only surprised she beat me by only 7 minutes.
I had to get home and they passed out medals to all finishers, so I didn't figure it was worth hanging around for awards. I got back on my bike and rode it down to my car (including a protein drink), threw everything in the back except some snacks I'd saved for the ride home, and I was on my way, listening to more Harry Dresden read by James Marsters. It wasn't until I got home that I found out that the top three women had started earlier than I did, and had been kicked down. So I actually finished third overall, which is really cool, especially at my age. Maybe I should have hung around for awards, after all.
Feeling good today, and hungry. Good thing 14 made us biscuits for breakfast this morning.
I drove 5 hours down to St. George to get to the race venue, stayed overnight in a hotel I would probably not go back to. I had dinner from one of my favorite restaurants (Durango's) that is now only located there. I also got to listen to James Marsters read Harry Dresden, one of the funnest things ever. So all good things.
As usual, I forgot a couple of things. One I could replace by buying more BodyGlide at the registration booth for the race. The other was sandals, which I regretted not having for the drive, mostly.
I got up plenty early for the race, which didn't start until 9:30 for my wave. They actually did the sprint first, which I personally appreciated a lot. That way there was a lot less crossover potential on the doubly used course, particularly at the bike turnaround.
They also did the kids' race first, which was lots of fun for me to watch. I got choked up thinking about my own kids doing triathlon with me and my husband. It's really satisfying to see your children face those challenges bravely, and the difficulties are not that much different. On a different scale, but there are still kids who sale through and kids who cry and puke, but keep going. Or don't. It's all good.
I got to watch the sprinters leave in waves. Everyone had a color coded cap, so you could see during the race who was in your group and who wasn't. My group had salmon colored caps, so while I was in the water I could occasionally look up and see people who I was actually competing against, at least until I was out of the water. I liked that. I also liked the sense that the race was well organized. They had aid stations on the bike as well as the run. I didn't use the bike stations, because I carry my own gatorade, but it was nice nonetheless.
The water was perfect. There is no water as nice to swim in as at Sand Hollow State Park. I could literally see straight to the bottom in many places and I didn't have the sense that I was breathing in dead fish. The water was cool but not cold. We jumped in off the dock and that was a great sensation. I usually walk in slowly. I chatted with another woman there who had done some of the same races I had and who asked me about Ironman St. George. Then we were off.
I could sight easily because I had new goggles, my Speedo Hydrospex which are the best goggles in the world and the only goggles that should ever be sold IMHO. The one mistake I made was that I turned at the wrong buoy on the second lap and started swimming across the course. A guy on a kayak came after me and told me to go back. I probably lost a minute or so from that. Not a big deal in the end. I tried not to beat myself up over it. I was passing a lot of guys who had started in earlier waves and that was a theme for the whole course. It wasn't bad because there weren't a lot of them. In a couple of spots I became aggressive swimming between people. Sorry if I was rude to anyone!
I got out of the water and from that point on, it was almost impossible to tell who I was competing against and who I wasn't. Obviously, I wasn't competing against the guys since they started in different waves. But there were two waves of women, one of the younger women who started at least 5 minutes earlier. I kept checking legs but a lot of numbers wear off in the sweat of a race and they're kind of hard to spot on a bike anyway. I shrugged and just kept going at my own pace. I usually take more than 2 minutes in transition, but this transition was under 45 seconds because of the shoes on bike plan. I was actually #1 among all the women in T1, so that is something I have definitely improved on.
As last time, I put my shoes on my bike and biked barefoot a bit until I could get my feet in. I'm pretty sure I need a lot more practice on this. I certainly didn't see anyone else in barefeet. At mile 4, we hit a significant hill. I geared down, determined not to stand. In a longer race, it makes sense to stand so you can work out some kinks, but this wasn't long enough and sitting is a more efficient way to pedal. You don't lose energy to uneven strokes. My bike computer was fixed this week so that it accurately represents my speed. Before it was always about 10% ahead because it was set for 700 cc wheels and I have 650 cc wheels. That made me feel a little slower, plus the fact that it was uphill. But I got my gus in and kept going.
At the sprint turnaround, you can bet I went slow and didn't pass anyone, even if they looked like they were going through. At the Olympic turnaround, I slowed almost to a stop to turn. That was also where I got a chance to see how many women were ahead of me. I'm not perfect at spotting women vs men in biking gear. Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes not so much. I counted 5 women ahead of me, the best one about 10 minutes ahead. I didn't think I would catch them, though in fact I caught one. She caught me back in transition, though. I ended up finishing third on the bike in final times, and that's about what I can do on my best days. A couple of guys complimented me on my biking, and I said I have a nice bike, which I do. One of the guys said that yeah, but I had to have an engine to turn those wheels. I do have a good engine in my biking legs.
I got my feet back out of my shoes on the last mile and ran into transition barefoot. Not sure if that was right, either. I put on my new super fast sockless triathlon shoes which I love and make me feet super fast, even if they are hot pink, my least favorite color. Then I headed out at what felt like a steady pace I could keep up for about an hour. I passed A LOT of people on the run. I think this is mainly because of the wave system. A lot of the slower men were still ahead of me because they started 15 minutes ahead. So I'd passed them earlier, in a way. They just didn't know it.
One moment was really fun, when I was passing a couple of teenage guys. They were going maybe 9 minute pace, but I blew by them. They made some comment about a fast chick. Then they looked at my leg and saw how old I was and they seemed to think I was pretty cool. That was nice. A lot of guys complimented me and I just waved. Honestly, I don't have the breath to talk while racing, especially on the run. If you heard me breathing, you'd understand. I almost drowned on a cup of water I tried to drink because I was breathing so hard and inhaled it. I admit that I counted every step. I was doing a mile in about 730 steps, which is fast for me. It was a hilly course and I finished in just under 8 minute miles total.
At the turnaround for the run I again got to see how many women were ahead of me. It was still 5, although one guy told me I was third. I figured he was just miscounting. There were 5 that I counted, and 3 three of those were within the 5 minute window that might mean I could catch them. I couldn't really tell their age. It was over 80 at this point, hot but not unbearable. I took in as much water as I could and took in one last gu. I hate gu, but I take it anyway, and I've gone to water over gatorade on the run because if it spills all over me, I don't get sticky.
For the first time EVER in a race, I was not passed on the run. One of my goals going into the race was to try to be passed by only a couple of women on the run. Not that I can control that absolutely, but that was what I wanted. I ended up finishing the run 6th of the women for that leg, and that's a really good result for me. I don't consider myself a runner. I run, but I don't love it. I'm most comfortable in the water, and I am always fastest on the bike. Sometimes I wonder if this is proof that I pace myself badly, but I actually think it just means I am newest to running, not starting until a few years ago.
Anyway, I hit the final uphill stretch and tried to push it in. I knew there was a woman under a minute behind me because I'd seen her at the turnaround. It's a pain not knowing exactly how close someone behind you is, but I didn't turn back to see. I didn't do an all out sprint, but I pushed hard and finished in 2:26. That's :31 for the swim (the fastest woman finished in :26, and I'm usually 3-4 minutes back from the fastest woman, so I think it was just long for everyone.) The bike I finished in 1:03 for 20 miles of hills. I wish I could have gone faster, but I was a little freaked out and kept slowing so as to avoid hitting other bikes and cars and the road on downhills. Need to work on that. The run I finished in :49, and it was really hilly, too, so I'm happy I kept it under 8 minutes per mile on that course and in that heat.
I got a bottle of water at the finish line, a quarter bagel, half banana and a quarter orange. I was still dripping sweat for the next ten minutes, so I stayed where it was cool under a tent. When I started to feel cool again and not so sweaty, I went out and looked at results. My results weren't up yet, so I went back to my bike and started to put things away to get ready to go.
This race had a spaghetti lunch/dinner free for athletes, so I went over and had that. I don't know if it was the food or me, but it was hard to choke it down. I felt bad, but I threw away the bread stick. I don't usually like them anyway. A couple more guys found me and said "363," you passed me on the run way fast. This is where I get into tricky situations. I mean to be nice, so I said that I had new shoes and they made me feel great. Looking back, that seems fine. But then one of the guys said he was fighting a blister on his foot that was killing him. I was trying to commiserate, so I told him I was dealing with the same thing from the 30 mile run I did on Tuesday when I lost two toenails. Now, looking back, I realize that sounded like bragging. Darn it! He mumbled something about how I must be in really good shape to do that long of a run and come do this race at my pace.
Sigh!
I went back to the results area and found out that I'd come in sixth, which was what I expected. The top three women had times listed under an hour, which was clearly wrong, but I shrugged it off. I was only 2nd in my age group as far as I could tell. The woman who beat me is an old, old nemesis of mine whom I haven't met up with for years. She's always ranked higher than me on the USAT lists, so I wasn't surprised she beat me. I was only surprised she beat me by only 7 minutes.
I had to get home and they passed out medals to all finishers, so I didn't figure it was worth hanging around for awards. I got back on my bike and rode it down to my car (including a protein drink), threw everything in the back except some snacks I'd saved for the ride home, and I was on my way, listening to more Harry Dresden read by James Marsters. It wasn't until I got home that I found out that the top three women had started earlier than I did, and had been kicked down. So I actually finished third overall, which is really cool, especially at my age. Maybe I should have hung around for awards, after all.
Feeling good today, and hungry. Good thing 14 made us biscuits for breakfast this morning.
September 16, 2011
Friday Tri: The Perception of Pain
This week, I lost a couple of toenails again. The same ones I always lose when I start running long distances, more than 20 miles in one day. I have a 50 mile race coming up so that means every week I'm doing a couple of really long runs. I had just bought new shoes a few weeks ago. And in fact, I had just been into the local running store and had talked to them about my problem with lost toenails. The guy looked at me and my shoes and pretty much said that you can't expect to run more than 20 miles without losing a couple of toenails. That wasn't the shoes' problem. He did ask if I had the right kind of socks, which I did.
One of the interesting things about this experience is that I had been on and off the treadmill a couple of times during the run, to change DVDs and to use the bathroom. Not once did I notice pain in my feet. And this has happened time after time to me. I gashed my leg open a couple of months ago on my indoor bike, had blood dripping down my leg, and I didn't know it until I was in the showed, looking down at my leg.
On the other hand, last week I had a crash while riding and it hurt A LOT. I didn't think I could get back up. I wasn't happy to get back up. I felt pain every second of the rest of the race. And I was scraped up badly on one elbow and have some bruises, certainly. I'm not saying I wasn't in pain. I was. But all in all, I escaped from that crash relatively well. I've had worse crashes. I think hitting a softish person actually saved me from hitting the ground harder. Not so good for him, of course, but he absorbed a lot of the impact.
Why is that on so many occasions when I do not expect to feel pain, I do not feel it? And when I expect to feel pain, it seems that I may slightly exaggerate it? It seems to be part of the expectation itself, and possibly the sense of fear that goes along with it. When I had the crash, I expected to feel pain and I was afraid of it ruining my race, of taking a long time to recover from, of lots of things. My mind had long scenarios playing out of worst case scenarios. In the other cases, I was busy doing other things.
A friend of mine has taught me a little about her practice of "mindfulness." She spends some time meditating every day and allowing herself to experience life in the moment. She says that she notices pain in her body, if there is any, and just lets herself accept it. I asked her if she tried to measure it and compare it to the day before or anything and she laughed. That is exactly the opposite of what mindfulness is about. Putting numbers on things is the human way of trying to predict and control the world, of trying to contain it. It is also our way of trying to get away from the pain, escaping it.
But when you just accept the pain, see it for what it is right now, in this moment, and stop trying to anticipate the next moment or tomorrow or next year, the pain isn't such a terrible thing. It's just pain. Yeah, your body tells you it's bad. You are evolutionarily designed to react to pain because if you didn't, you might end up dying from an injury that you could have protected yourself from. But pain is no more than a bodily reaction to a stimulus, just like pleasure is. It's information. It doesn't require a response. You can respond, if you choose to. But you don't have to.
I love this way of thinking about pain. And I think it does help me see why it is that I can be doing a workout that is clearly causing me pain, but not notice it until I stop doing the workout. It's because my mind is elsewhere. It's not accepting the pain. It's busy monitoring other functions. It's busy watching my show, making sure that I get in all the fluid and calories I need for the race, thinking about pace and what not. And it's just pain. It's your brain telling you something. But if you don't have time to notice it right then, the brain will just wait until you do.
One of the books I've been reading said something like, "Pain doesn't kill anyone." Yeah, I guess it doesn't. Pain is the perception of injury, not the injury itself. The injury may kill you, but not the pain.
One of the interesting things about this experience is that I had been on and off the treadmill a couple of times during the run, to change DVDs and to use the bathroom. Not once did I notice pain in my feet. And this has happened time after time to me. I gashed my leg open a couple of months ago on my indoor bike, had blood dripping down my leg, and I didn't know it until I was in the showed, looking down at my leg.
On the other hand, last week I had a crash while riding and it hurt A LOT. I didn't think I could get back up. I wasn't happy to get back up. I felt pain every second of the rest of the race. And I was scraped up badly on one elbow and have some bruises, certainly. I'm not saying I wasn't in pain. I was. But all in all, I escaped from that crash relatively well. I've had worse crashes. I think hitting a softish person actually saved me from hitting the ground harder. Not so good for him, of course, but he absorbed a lot of the impact.
Why is that on so many occasions when I do not expect to feel pain, I do not feel it? And when I expect to feel pain, it seems that I may slightly exaggerate it? It seems to be part of the expectation itself, and possibly the sense of fear that goes along with it. When I had the crash, I expected to feel pain and I was afraid of it ruining my race, of taking a long time to recover from, of lots of things. My mind had long scenarios playing out of worst case scenarios. In the other cases, I was busy doing other things.
A friend of mine has taught me a little about her practice of "mindfulness." She spends some time meditating every day and allowing herself to experience life in the moment. She says that she notices pain in her body, if there is any, and just lets herself accept it. I asked her if she tried to measure it and compare it to the day before or anything and she laughed. That is exactly the opposite of what mindfulness is about. Putting numbers on things is the human way of trying to predict and control the world, of trying to contain it. It is also our way of trying to get away from the pain, escaping it.
But when you just accept the pain, see it for what it is right now, in this moment, and stop trying to anticipate the next moment or tomorrow or next year, the pain isn't such a terrible thing. It's just pain. Yeah, your body tells you it's bad. You are evolutionarily designed to react to pain because if you didn't, you might end up dying from an injury that you could have protected yourself from. But pain is no more than a bodily reaction to a stimulus, just like pleasure is. It's information. It doesn't require a response. You can respond, if you choose to. But you don't have to.
I love this way of thinking about pain. And I think it does help me see why it is that I can be doing a workout that is clearly causing me pain, but not notice it until I stop doing the workout. It's because my mind is elsewhere. It's not accepting the pain. It's busy monitoring other functions. It's busy watching my show, making sure that I get in all the fluid and calories I need for the race, thinking about pace and what not. And it's just pain. It's your brain telling you something. But if you don't have time to notice it right then, the brain will just wait until you do.
One of the books I've been reading said something like, "Pain doesn't kill anyone." Yeah, I guess it doesn't. Pain is the perception of injury, not the injury itself. The injury may kill you, but not the pain.
September 15, 2011
Thursday Quotes: Kate Wilhelm's Storyteller
"First was the Poor Me story: Mother hates me, Father hates me, brother, sisters, teachers. . . Also I'm ugly and I can't get laid.
Enough, we said. No one who asks for pity gets it. Save it for your shrink [. . .]
Next, the obverse I'm wonderful. After I slayed the dragon and rescued the damsel, I took on and destroyed the enemy and taught the inhabitants how to do everything. I solved the problems, found the treasure, was the object of every girl's desire
Enough.
Save your adolescent wish fulfillment fantasies for your shrink.
"One of the women wrote a story in which everyone lived within a walled community, a compound encircled by a wall too high to see over. The story had a surreal quality in spire of fairly realistic action. I asked her what lay behind the wall, and she didn't know. I asked if anyone in the community knew, and she said it had not come up in the story and she had not thought about it. That explained the surreality[. . . .]
The writer has to know what lies beyond the wall and has to give the readers enough direct instructions or else imply enough through the characters' behavior for the readers to be able to piece it together."
Enough, we said. No one who asks for pity gets it. Save it for your shrink [. . .]
Next, the obverse I'm wonderful. After I slayed the dragon and rescued the damsel, I took on and destroyed the enemy and taught the inhabitants how to do everything. I solved the problems, found the treasure, was the object of every girl's desire
Enough.
Save your adolescent wish fulfillment fantasies for your shrink.
"One of the women wrote a story in which everyone lived within a walled community, a compound encircled by a wall too high to see over. The story had a surreal quality in spire of fairly realistic action. I asked her what lay behind the wall, and she didn't know. I asked if anyone in the community knew, and she said it had not come up in the story and she had not thought about it. That explained the surreality[. . . .]
The writer has to know what lies beyond the wall and has to give the readers enough direct instructions or else imply enough through the characters' behavior for the readers to be able to piece it together."
September 14, 2011
Wednesday Writing: Secret Projects
I know that it sounds strange when I say that I wish I had enjoyed the period of time in life before I was published. I was so eager to get published, so sure that getting a book contract would be the only way to have legitimacy as a writer, that I really hated being constantly rejected. It's easy, I suppose, now that I'm on this end, and know the eventual outcome, to say that I should have lived in the moment more. But I still do. I'm not saying that you shouldn't be submitting your guts out if you're in that stage or going to conference or reading everything you can get your hands on that is published. But it's a mistake not to understand why it is that published writers envy you.
It's because whatever you write, you are writing "secretly." What I mean is that it isn't under contract. It isn't a book that makes you hear the voices of reviewers in your head, telling you what you should do better, what you shouldn't write, and what you were successful at last time. What you write, you KNOW you are writing because you want to write it.
Or if it isn't, and you are writing something that is purely commercial, then I suppose I don't envy you, after all. I won't say that you aren't going to be published because the truth is, most people aren't published and the people who are work at it really hard and learn how to do it well, and I'm not sure if that happens more often if you love it or if you don't. What I am sure of is that if you are writing something because it is purely commercial, you are much less likely to have a successful career as a writer. Why? Because you will not like your job. And people who don't like their jobs are almost always people who leave their jobs to find one they like better.
Writers who have already published agonize over their next project. They flounder around, and it's not just a sophomore problem. I know SO many professional writers these days and it's always the same story. Trying to figure out what to write next, what a publisher will offer a contract on, what the public will buy in huge numbers, huger than before. No matter what the level of success, and I know a lot of NYT bestselling authors, this is always a matter of a lot of focus and almost always some degree of terror.
If you've already been published, you wonder if you should try to use the same formula that made you successful last time. But you are never sure if you know what that formula was. So, so often, a writer will end up stumbling onto wrong project after wrong project. Sometimes they are wrong for the publishing world and are actually perfectly good projects. Sometimes they are wrong in every way, just plain bad, and the writer will either persist and lose years of time when they could have been working on viable projects or the writer will give up that project and move on to another, and then another, and another, trying to find the write one.
People say that ideas are cheap, and in one sense that is true. In another sense, it is absolutely untrue because the "right" idea is priceless. The problem is that the right idea for one writer is not the right idea for another one. And when I say "right," I mean a project that is the perfect confluence of the writer's abilities, the writer's interests and passion, and the publisher's belief in commercial viability, along with the reading public's willingness to seek out and buy this book.
Then what happens for so, so many writers is that once they have a contract on a project, they find all their interest in it dies. Or if it doesn't die, it wanes. And suddenly, they have a million ideas that are all about completely separate projects from the one they should be working on. It's like, as soon as you get a contract, your creative mind rebels from the commercial crassness and decides that it wants to run away and fall in love with someone Mommy and Daddy don't like.
You try to buckle down and work on the project anyway, of course. Because you have a deadline and your agent tells you to do it and your editor calls you and gives you nice encouraging thoughts to spur you on to greatness. And you sit down, and you have no idea what to write. You don't want to write at all. You would rather do anything other than write. You would rather clean the kitchen grout or weed that part of the garden you let go two years ago or attend PTA meetings. Literally, anything. You'd rather start training to run a marathon. Or maybe not.
I think the way to deal with this problem is to always have at least one secret project to tempt your creative mind with. I'm sure you've noticed that authors talk about secret projects, sometimes taunting their audiences by refusing to talk about them. It may sound superstitious. It's not. Really, it's a vital part of protecting your creative energy NOT to tell anyone about what you are working on. Some writers will do this all the way up until they submit the novel to the editor, before they ever have a contract. I certainly understand this now. It's a lot easier to do the editing part of the creative job once you have a full manuscript than it is to create a whole manuscript when you already have a contract on a proposal.
But if you are in the situation where you are working on something that you HAVE to work on, for whatever reason. Because this is the mss an agent was interested in, because you're an inch away from a contract on it, and you are completely unmotivated, find a secret project. You need something that no one else cares about but you. Something that is play for you, in whatever way you think it is playing. You should tell yourself that the project will never sell, and you should write it anyway. It will probably never actually sell because, well, most projects never do. But more importantly, the not selling is what protects your creative brain from giving up and letting your less artistic side take over.
I'm a working writer. I know when I have a deadline, I have to sit down every day and work on it. I derive different kinds of pleasure from different parts of the writing process. I don't allow myself to use avoid work strategies in general. I get the $(@! done. But I'm more and more conscious of the need to keep my creative mind and my commerical business mind separate from each other. I had a writer friend once who would simply not talk about her new project with anyone until she was ready to send it to her editor. She said that talking about it made her less interested in the project. I think what she meant was that talking about it stole her mojo. It made her creative mind decide that it was being turned off. And you want to keep that creative mind excited.
We don't control our creativity, not really. I don't like it when people wax mystical about their creative process. I certainly don't believe that stories ride in and take you as a writer off on an adventure. I don't believe that characters live in any places other than your own mind. I believe that you have power over your story. Only--I don't think you have absolute power. There is a deep subconscious at work when you write, and you need to respect the way that it works. However you maintain the illusion that your writing is fun, that it is art, that it is purely for you, that it isn't work--I think it is vital to do so.
Art isn't about selling. And writing is art. Art is about play, about what isn't necessary. It's what people do when they aren't worried about where the next paycheck is coming from. Or rather, it's what they do even if they are worried, but they're not going to deal with that right now. It's escape from the real world. And it needs to stay that way. For me, anyway.
It's because whatever you write, you are writing "secretly." What I mean is that it isn't under contract. It isn't a book that makes you hear the voices of reviewers in your head, telling you what you should do better, what you shouldn't write, and what you were successful at last time. What you write, you KNOW you are writing because you want to write it.
Or if it isn't, and you are writing something that is purely commercial, then I suppose I don't envy you, after all. I won't say that you aren't going to be published because the truth is, most people aren't published and the people who are work at it really hard and learn how to do it well, and I'm not sure if that happens more often if you love it or if you don't. What I am sure of is that if you are writing something because it is purely commercial, you are much less likely to have a successful career as a writer. Why? Because you will not like your job. And people who don't like their jobs are almost always people who leave their jobs to find one they like better.
Writers who have already published agonize over their next project. They flounder around, and it's not just a sophomore problem. I know SO many professional writers these days and it's always the same story. Trying to figure out what to write next, what a publisher will offer a contract on, what the public will buy in huge numbers, huger than before. No matter what the level of success, and I know a lot of NYT bestselling authors, this is always a matter of a lot of focus and almost always some degree of terror.
If you've already been published, you wonder if you should try to use the same formula that made you successful last time. But you are never sure if you know what that formula was. So, so often, a writer will end up stumbling onto wrong project after wrong project. Sometimes they are wrong for the publishing world and are actually perfectly good projects. Sometimes they are wrong in every way, just plain bad, and the writer will either persist and lose years of time when they could have been working on viable projects or the writer will give up that project and move on to another, and then another, and another, trying to find the write one.
People say that ideas are cheap, and in one sense that is true. In another sense, it is absolutely untrue because the "right" idea is priceless. The problem is that the right idea for one writer is not the right idea for another one. And when I say "right," I mean a project that is the perfect confluence of the writer's abilities, the writer's interests and passion, and the publisher's belief in commercial viability, along with the reading public's willingness to seek out and buy this book.
Then what happens for so, so many writers is that once they have a contract on a project, they find all their interest in it dies. Or if it doesn't die, it wanes. And suddenly, they have a million ideas that are all about completely separate projects from the one they should be working on. It's like, as soon as you get a contract, your creative mind rebels from the commercial crassness and decides that it wants to run away and fall in love with someone Mommy and Daddy don't like.
You try to buckle down and work on the project anyway, of course. Because you have a deadline and your agent tells you to do it and your editor calls you and gives you nice encouraging thoughts to spur you on to greatness. And you sit down, and you have no idea what to write. You don't want to write at all. You would rather do anything other than write. You would rather clean the kitchen grout or weed that part of the garden you let go two years ago or attend PTA meetings. Literally, anything. You'd rather start training to run a marathon. Or maybe not.
I think the way to deal with this problem is to always have at least one secret project to tempt your creative mind with. I'm sure you've noticed that authors talk about secret projects, sometimes taunting their audiences by refusing to talk about them. It may sound superstitious. It's not. Really, it's a vital part of protecting your creative energy NOT to tell anyone about what you are working on. Some writers will do this all the way up until they submit the novel to the editor, before they ever have a contract. I certainly understand this now. It's a lot easier to do the editing part of the creative job once you have a full manuscript than it is to create a whole manuscript when you already have a contract on a proposal.
But if you are in the situation where you are working on something that you HAVE to work on, for whatever reason. Because this is the mss an agent was interested in, because you're an inch away from a contract on it, and you are completely unmotivated, find a secret project. You need something that no one else cares about but you. Something that is play for you, in whatever way you think it is playing. You should tell yourself that the project will never sell, and you should write it anyway. It will probably never actually sell because, well, most projects never do. But more importantly, the not selling is what protects your creative brain from giving up and letting your less artistic side take over.
I'm a working writer. I know when I have a deadline, I have to sit down every day and work on it. I derive different kinds of pleasure from different parts of the writing process. I don't allow myself to use avoid work strategies in general. I get the $(@! done. But I'm more and more conscious of the need to keep my creative mind and my commerical business mind separate from each other. I had a writer friend once who would simply not talk about her new project with anyone until she was ready to send it to her editor. She said that talking about it made her less interested in the project. I think what she meant was that talking about it stole her mojo. It made her creative mind decide that it was being turned off. And you want to keep that creative mind excited.
We don't control our creativity, not really. I don't like it when people wax mystical about their creative process. I certainly don't believe that stories ride in and take you as a writer off on an adventure. I don't believe that characters live in any places other than your own mind. I believe that you have power over your story. Only--I don't think you have absolute power. There is a deep subconscious at work when you write, and you need to respect the way that it works. However you maintain the illusion that your writing is fun, that it is art, that it is purely for you, that it isn't work--I think it is vital to do so.
Art isn't about selling. And writing is art. Art is about play, about what isn't necessary. It's what people do when they aren't worried about where the next paycheck is coming from. Or rather, it's what they do even if they are worried, but they're not going to deal with that right now. It's escape from the real world. And it needs to stay that way. For me, anyway.
September 13, 2011
more annoying romance tropes #7 #8 #9
#7 the rival woman
This rival woman is often the ex-girlfriend of the hero, from his past in some way, and shares more in common with him. Lots of historical baggage between her and the hero. And she is almost always EVIL. No attempt to make her anything other than a personified obstacle. She is just the sort of person who enjoys using power over men (and any woman who likes that is evil, right?). She often thinks up really tricky situations to put the two in, so that they will hate each other in the end. I understand why it's tempting to use a character like this to create tension. And I love good villains who have motivations of their own. But I wish this wasn't always the rival woman who held this spot (a la Rochester's madwoman in the attic). I tend to prefer romances where the problems are internal rather than external. The resolution is more satisfying then, because the two main characters have to change and grow rather than just stop being blind and stupid.
#8 the beta male
This is the more typical analog to the rival woman. Why? Because men aren't evil like twisted femininity and being jilted makes women? I guess. I think there is also the idea that the beta male is nice and all that, but you need a man who turns you on. Not that I disagree with that, in real life. It's just that I don't like the idea that only alpha males turn women on. Like, who is going to end up with all these beta males? Or worse, do the beta males have to turn into alpha males to get a woman? Of course, some women are attracted to alpha males. But look at romance novels. No beta males win the girl. That's why you always knew that Jacob wasn't going to get Bella, right? And of course, there is the subtext here that the alpha male makes it acceptable for the woman to acknowledge her own sexual nature. With the beta male, she becomes the aggressor and that is unacceptable for a woman.
#9 exotic locales
I know that lots of readers of romances want to vicariously travel to exotic locales in books because they can't actually do it in real life. I get that. The problem I have is that these locales seem to be stereotyped. Always Spain, Greece, or Egypt where the heroine can be attracted to a swarthy, take-charge, alpha male who is excused for his barbaric behavior because that's his culture. Why not China or Japan or Ireland or Utah (which is definitely an alien place, believe me). Also, I hate that these places usually feature locals all acting like "stupid servant class" people. The hero and heroine are superior in class to them and help these locals, who gratefully accept their assistance. The white European prejudices about kill me.
This rival woman is often the ex-girlfriend of the hero, from his past in some way, and shares more in common with him. Lots of historical baggage between her and the hero. And she is almost always EVIL. No attempt to make her anything other than a personified obstacle. She is just the sort of person who enjoys using power over men (and any woman who likes that is evil, right?). She often thinks up really tricky situations to put the two in, so that they will hate each other in the end. I understand why it's tempting to use a character like this to create tension. And I love good villains who have motivations of their own. But I wish this wasn't always the rival woman who held this spot (a la Rochester's madwoman in the attic). I tend to prefer romances where the problems are internal rather than external. The resolution is more satisfying then, because the two main characters have to change and grow rather than just stop being blind and stupid.
#8 the beta male
This is the more typical analog to the rival woman. Why? Because men aren't evil like twisted femininity and being jilted makes women? I guess. I think there is also the idea that the beta male is nice and all that, but you need a man who turns you on. Not that I disagree with that, in real life. It's just that I don't like the idea that only alpha males turn women on. Like, who is going to end up with all these beta males? Or worse, do the beta males have to turn into alpha males to get a woman? Of course, some women are attracted to alpha males. But look at romance novels. No beta males win the girl. That's why you always knew that Jacob wasn't going to get Bella, right? And of course, there is the subtext here that the alpha male makes it acceptable for the woman to acknowledge her own sexual nature. With the beta male, she becomes the aggressor and that is unacceptable for a woman.
#9 exotic locales
I know that lots of readers of romances want to vicariously travel to exotic locales in books because they can't actually do it in real life. I get that. The problem I have is that these locales seem to be stereotyped. Always Spain, Greece, or Egypt where the heroine can be attracted to a swarthy, take-charge, alpha male who is excused for his barbaric behavior because that's his culture. Why not China or Japan or Ireland or Utah (which is definitely an alien place, believe me). Also, I hate that these places usually feature locals all acting like "stupid servant class" people. The hero and heroine are superior in class to them and help these locals, who gratefully accept their assistance. The white European prejudices about kill me.
September 12, 2011
Dick and Jane For Everything
A new contest with giveaways! If you want to enter, please comment below with your version of "Dick and Jane" for a classic.
Here are some examples of mine:
Wilbur is a pig. Look, Wilbur likes to eat. Wilbur likes to talk. Talk, Wilbur. Talk to the spider. The spider's name is Charlotte. Charlotte likes to make webs.
The queen is mad, Gen. She is so mad she won't speak. She wants to kill you. But killing you is too easy. So she chops off your hand instead. Ouch, Gen. That will hurt.
Tess is a girl. She is a sweet girl. Look, Tess is dancing. Will Angel ask her to dance? Ask her, Angel. Ask her. She would like you. Angels does not ask. Tess is sad.
Scarlett is pretty. See her green eyes. Fiddle-dee-dee, says Scarlett. Fiddle-dee-dee. Scarlett likes Ashely. But Ashely does not like Scarlett. He likes Melanie instead.
Meg's father is gone. Meg wants to bring her father home. She has to find her father first. Where could he be? It is a dark and stormy night. Very dark and very stormy. Poor Meg.
Huck does not like to do chores. Huck does not like to be inside. He runs away from home. Run, Huck, run. Huck meets a friend. His friend is named Jim. Run, Jim. Run with Huck.
Ishmael's name is Ishmael. He likes to ride in a boat. See the boat in the water. Ride, Ishmael, ride. Ishmael likes to fish. He likes to fish and ride. Watch out, Ishmael.
Go to www.trisandizzie.com for a complete story of Dick and Jane Austen.
You can also follow this thread on twitter.
Here are some examples of mine:
Wilbur is a pig. Look, Wilbur likes to eat. Wilbur likes to talk. Talk, Wilbur. Talk to the spider. The spider's name is Charlotte. Charlotte likes to make webs.
The queen is mad, Gen. She is so mad she won't speak. She wants to kill you. But killing you is too easy. So she chops off your hand instead. Ouch, Gen. That will hurt.
Tess is a girl. She is a sweet girl. Look, Tess is dancing. Will Angel ask her to dance? Ask her, Angel. Ask her. She would like you. Angels does not ask. Tess is sad.
Scarlett is pretty. See her green eyes. Fiddle-dee-dee, says Scarlett. Fiddle-dee-dee. Scarlett likes Ashely. But Ashely does not like Scarlett. He likes Melanie instead.
Meg's father is gone. Meg wants to bring her father home. She has to find her father first. Where could he be? It is a dark and stormy night. Very dark and very stormy. Poor Meg.
Huck does not like to do chores. Huck does not like to be inside. He runs away from home. Run, Huck, run. Huck meets a friend. His friend is named Jim. Run, Jim. Run with Huck.
Ishmael's name is Ishmael. He likes to ride in a boat. See the boat in the water. Ride, Ishmael, ride. Ishmael likes to fish. He likes to fish and ride. Watch out, Ishmael.
Go to www.trisandizzie.com for a complete story of Dick and Jane Austen.
You can also follow this thread on twitter.
September 10, 2011
race crash report Stansbury 2011
Yeah. Not what I wanted to report at the end of my racing season. And it was almost entirely my fault. Really, all my fault. Other people COULD have prevented it, but I'm the one who should have.
I slept pretty well last night, got to the race venue on time, and was looking forward to the race. I worried a little the last week that I wasn't rested enough, with this race so close to my other two, but I felt good. Last night I went over to the local running store to get some gus for the race and I found myself being talked into (quite willingly) a pair of triathlon specific shoes. Then I did something that everyone says you are not supposed to do. I decided to wear those shoes on the race the next day. Without socks.
I've been doing triathlon for years, but I am slow to take new steps with gear stuff. I got a heart rate monitor after about a year. I had a GPS for a while, but never liked it. I finally got an aero helmet last year. The one thing I have been holding out on is learning how to race barefoot and keeping my bike shoes clicked into the pedals for faster transitions. I know all the pros use these techniques, but I am not a pro. On the other hand, it seemed silly for me to make myself slower. So I decided that today was the day. If nothing else happened in the race, I was going to focus on learning this new thing and if I was actually slower, that was OK because I was investing in skills for the future. More on the results of this later.
When I got my wetsuit on and headed down to the water, I looked out and stared in astonishment at the buoys. Last year, the swim was a little short. I guess this year, they decided to make up for it. Everyone just stared out at the buoys in astonishment. They were way far out and the course was, indeed, too long. I got into T1 in about 29 minutes, when it usually takes me under 26. I know, 3 minutes isn't a big deal, but it's frustrating when you're trying to measure your improvement and the race is different every year. But that's the way it is. No course is ever the same, even when they try to make it that way. The weather changes, wind, heat, everything can make a huge difference.
Anyway, I decided to push it a little in the swim. I always take it easy and the swim is my warm up for the race. I am very comfortable in the water. But I end up feeling disappointed at the end of the day because I don't come out of the water in the lead, despite the fact that I am originally a swimmer. As I pushed myself, I felt sure that I was actually in the lead on the swim. This has never happened to me before, so it was exhilarating. Everything seemed like it was going to lead to a great day.
I got out of the swim (a little long, but it would be long for everyone) and headed out on my bike, having very few problems with the barefoot method. What I did was just jam my bare feet on top of my bikes in the pedals and then when I got up to speed, I let myself coast for a second, reached down and put my foot in the shoe, then buckled it closed. And then on the other side. You have to be pretty confident to do this on the bike. And no, this is not why I crashed.
I could tell that I was way in the lead because there were no women to be seen. A couple of guys passed me, but I could still see them, so it wasn't like I was being left in the dust. Plus, they were actually 5 minutes behind me. So I felt great. Great, great, great. The course had a lot of turns and some traffic, but it was going fine until I saw the sprint turnaround coming up ahead. I wasn't trying to pass anyone, but a guy was ahead of me and to my right and I slid ahead of him because, I understand now, he was slowing down for the turn. I was confused because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go straight or not (it was at an intersection). I was waiting for a volunteer to direct me right or left, and that didn't happen. So I crashed into the guy who turned into me. My fault, really.
So, the good thing about this is that now I have a fun story to tell. Plus, of course, I can use this experience in my writing. Just in case you are wondering, what happens when you are about to die (or crash) is not your life passing before your eyes. For me, there was a sense that time was slowing down but mostly that was because every microsecond really mattered. I could see the crash coming and I wanted to stop it, but this is a limitation of reflexes. I could not react soon enough to stop it.
I saw the guy turning into me, and then what seemed like a while later, we crashed. I thought, Now I'm going to die. And then the ground hit me and so did he. I was smashed between the two of them and the pain hit pretty fast, let me tell you. I sat there on the ground for what seemed like two seconds and suddenly there were volunteers around me helping me stand up. I remember being really annoyed with them, because I did not want to stand up. I wanted to lie on the ground and be in pain. Also, I wanted to curse a lot and I wanted my mommy. I wanted bandaids and medical treatment and sympathy. My husband said he's surprised at this because he would have expected the volunteers to want to help me and me to push them out of the way. Instead, I wanted to lie on the ground for a minute or so and they were literally putting my legs over the bar of my bike and getting me back on.
The guy who I crashed into, by the way, stayed by me until I was back on my back, so he was really nice about it. I kept saying I was sorry over and over again. He didn't curse me out, so that seemed pretty nice, too. Afterward I saw him with the EMT and he seemed less nice about it, but he was probably tired by then.
People asked me if I was OK, but they also pushed me to get back on the bike before I was ready. I felt like I was in the Tour de France, minus the medical care on the road and the teammates. And well, a new bike. I had to ride a broken bike, and it was broken. For most of the rest of the bike, my top speed was about 16 mph, when it is normally around 25. That sucked. I had to put my chain back on, so my hands were greasy. There was blood dripping down my leg and I wasn't exactly sure where it came from. I could see scrapes and bruises, but I was pretty there was stuff hidden under my clothes. (And there was.) My elbow was torn to shreds and I kept having to learn on my aerobars, which were soaked in salty sweat, which made my elbow sting.
Also I had to deal with what felt like the humiliation of being passed by people who should have been nowhere near me. I think I must have been passed by every single person in the race on the bike course. The first three women closest to me passed right after I crashed. I realized later that I wasn't first, but had been second. By then, I had fallen way down in the rankings. Why do the numbers matter to me? They do.
Whine, whine, whine.
Yeah, that's how I felt the whole bike. Last year on this same course I had a flat, which was frustrating. This year was supposed to be redemption.
Not.
I didn't know what I could do to fix my bike, if anything, so I just kept going on the stupid thing. (I love my bike in normal circumstances.) Once I got off the bike, it was a huge relief. I put on my new shoes and boy, they were great. I wondered why I hadn't gotten shoes like that years ago. They might not have enough cushioning for an Ironman distance race, but they felt so light, I'm sure I was faster. I hit about a 7:30 mile the first mile and passed a bunch of people who had passed me on the bike. They must have been wondering why I'd been holding back, or thinking I was a really great runner, which I'm not. I kept up that pace through the whole run, and finished in about 47:00, which is great for a 10k in an Olympic race.
Sadly, I was 7th place instead of 2nd or 3rd, which I imagine (possibly incorrectly) I would have earned if I hadn't crashed. I did get 2nd in my age group.
And now what do I want? To sign up for another race today, so I can do my best and prove it to myself and to the world. I want, wait for it, redemption again.
Isn't that the way it always is?
I slept pretty well last night, got to the race venue on time, and was looking forward to the race. I worried a little the last week that I wasn't rested enough, with this race so close to my other two, but I felt good. Last night I went over to the local running store to get some gus for the race and I found myself being talked into (quite willingly) a pair of triathlon specific shoes. Then I did something that everyone says you are not supposed to do. I decided to wear those shoes on the race the next day. Without socks.
I've been doing triathlon for years, but I am slow to take new steps with gear stuff. I got a heart rate monitor after about a year. I had a GPS for a while, but never liked it. I finally got an aero helmet last year. The one thing I have been holding out on is learning how to race barefoot and keeping my bike shoes clicked into the pedals for faster transitions. I know all the pros use these techniques, but I am not a pro. On the other hand, it seemed silly for me to make myself slower. So I decided that today was the day. If nothing else happened in the race, I was going to focus on learning this new thing and if I was actually slower, that was OK because I was investing in skills for the future. More on the results of this later.
When I got my wetsuit on and headed down to the water, I looked out and stared in astonishment at the buoys. Last year, the swim was a little short. I guess this year, they decided to make up for it. Everyone just stared out at the buoys in astonishment. They were way far out and the course was, indeed, too long. I got into T1 in about 29 minutes, when it usually takes me under 26. I know, 3 minutes isn't a big deal, but it's frustrating when you're trying to measure your improvement and the race is different every year. But that's the way it is. No course is ever the same, even when they try to make it that way. The weather changes, wind, heat, everything can make a huge difference.
Anyway, I decided to push it a little in the swim. I always take it easy and the swim is my warm up for the race. I am very comfortable in the water. But I end up feeling disappointed at the end of the day because I don't come out of the water in the lead, despite the fact that I am originally a swimmer. As I pushed myself, I felt sure that I was actually in the lead on the swim. This has never happened to me before, so it was exhilarating. Everything seemed like it was going to lead to a great day.
I got out of the swim (a little long, but it would be long for everyone) and headed out on my bike, having very few problems with the barefoot method. What I did was just jam my bare feet on top of my bikes in the pedals and then when I got up to speed, I let myself coast for a second, reached down and put my foot in the shoe, then buckled it closed. And then on the other side. You have to be pretty confident to do this on the bike. And no, this is not why I crashed.
I could tell that I was way in the lead because there were no women to be seen. A couple of guys passed me, but I could still see them, so it wasn't like I was being left in the dust. Plus, they were actually 5 minutes behind me. So I felt great. Great, great, great. The course had a lot of turns and some traffic, but it was going fine until I saw the sprint turnaround coming up ahead. I wasn't trying to pass anyone, but a guy was ahead of me and to my right and I slid ahead of him because, I understand now, he was slowing down for the turn. I was confused because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go straight or not (it was at an intersection). I was waiting for a volunteer to direct me right or left, and that didn't happen. So I crashed into the guy who turned into me. My fault, really.
So, the good thing about this is that now I have a fun story to tell. Plus, of course, I can use this experience in my writing. Just in case you are wondering, what happens when you are about to die (or crash) is not your life passing before your eyes. For me, there was a sense that time was slowing down but mostly that was because every microsecond really mattered. I could see the crash coming and I wanted to stop it, but this is a limitation of reflexes. I could not react soon enough to stop it.
I saw the guy turning into me, and then what seemed like a while later, we crashed. I thought, Now I'm going to die. And then the ground hit me and so did he. I was smashed between the two of them and the pain hit pretty fast, let me tell you. I sat there on the ground for what seemed like two seconds and suddenly there were volunteers around me helping me stand up. I remember being really annoyed with them, because I did not want to stand up. I wanted to lie on the ground and be in pain. Also, I wanted to curse a lot and I wanted my mommy. I wanted bandaids and medical treatment and sympathy. My husband said he's surprised at this because he would have expected the volunteers to want to help me and me to push them out of the way. Instead, I wanted to lie on the ground for a minute or so and they were literally putting my legs over the bar of my bike and getting me back on.
The guy who I crashed into, by the way, stayed by me until I was back on my back, so he was really nice about it. I kept saying I was sorry over and over again. He didn't curse me out, so that seemed pretty nice, too. Afterward I saw him with the EMT and he seemed less nice about it, but he was probably tired by then.
People asked me if I was OK, but they also pushed me to get back on the bike before I was ready. I felt like I was in the Tour de France, minus the medical care on the road and the teammates. And well, a new bike. I had to ride a broken bike, and it was broken. For most of the rest of the bike, my top speed was about 16 mph, when it is normally around 25. That sucked. I had to put my chain back on, so my hands were greasy. There was blood dripping down my leg and I wasn't exactly sure where it came from. I could see scrapes and bruises, but I was pretty there was stuff hidden under my clothes. (And there was.) My elbow was torn to shreds and I kept having to learn on my aerobars, which were soaked in salty sweat, which made my elbow sting.
Also I had to deal with what felt like the humiliation of being passed by people who should have been nowhere near me. I think I must have been passed by every single person in the race on the bike course. The first three women closest to me passed right after I crashed. I realized later that I wasn't first, but had been second. By then, I had fallen way down in the rankings. Why do the numbers matter to me? They do.
Whine, whine, whine.
Yeah, that's how I felt the whole bike. Last year on this same course I had a flat, which was frustrating. This year was supposed to be redemption.
Not.
I didn't know what I could do to fix my bike, if anything, so I just kept going on the stupid thing. (I love my bike in normal circumstances.) Once I got off the bike, it was a huge relief. I put on my new shoes and boy, they were great. I wondered why I hadn't gotten shoes like that years ago. They might not have enough cushioning for an Ironman distance race, but they felt so light, I'm sure I was faster. I hit about a 7:30 mile the first mile and passed a bunch of people who had passed me on the bike. They must have been wondering why I'd been holding back, or thinking I was a really great runner, which I'm not. I kept up that pace through the whole run, and finished in about 47:00, which is great for a 10k in an Olympic race.
Sadly, I was 7th place instead of 2nd or 3rd, which I imagine (possibly incorrectly) I would have earned if I hadn't crashed. I did get 2nd in my age group.
And now what do I want? To sign up for another race today, so I can do my best and prove it to myself and to the world. I want, wait for it, redemption again.
Isn't that the way it always is?
September 9, 2011
Friday Tri: Your Body Is A Machine
Because we live inside of our bodies (and well, are them) we sometimes seem surprised to discover that there are rules to keeping a body operating properly. Just like with any other machine. If you have a computer, you expect that the computer needs daily electricity to keep operating. If you have an oven, you know it needs gas or electricity to continue to work. And there are lots of unexpected glitches that will require a maintenance check by an expert. The more complicated the machine, the more expensive the expert. And your body is an awfully complicated machine.
The thing is, if you keep running your car on the cheapest gasoline and you never take it in for maintenance, what do you think will happen? It will have problems. The problems may be different for each car. One car may start stalling in the middle of traffic. Another car might make great plumes of smoke as it runs. Or simply not start at all. I suppose you might even convince yourself that it's OK, that you can learn to live with these "inconveniences" and you keep living your life the same way.
You tell yourself that you don't have "time" to deal with the maintenance needs of your body. Or you tell yourself that you can take care of them yourself, without having to go see an expert. You may even tell yourself that experts lie, that they don't know anything, that they just want to charge you money. Yeah, well, we do live in a capitalist society, so there is a financial motivation for everyone. But seriously, if you don't take time for something right now, you will pay for it later. And you will pay for it big.
I notice this when I am on deadline and I put everything off. Or when I am training for an Ironman and my kids start to hear the answer "After the Ironman" to every single question that they ask me. Guess what happens after the Ironman? I spend about a month and a half trying to get my life back in order when I am exhausted from a race. It isn't fun. I wish I didn't do this. I wish there was some way for me to deal with all my obligations when they come up. But I get it, life isn't like that. And maybe we humans aren't like that. Maybe we are designed to keep pushing ourselves past our limits.
That said, this is a plea that you will notice your body. The reason that there is a mind/body connection is that there is no mind/body dichotomy. I sometimes think that talk about "souls" has created a whole host of problems in the way that we look at ourselves. Sure, we humans are special animals because we can recognize ourselves in mirrors, we have language, and we are adaptable. Plus, those opposable thumbs. But you don't think of dogs as having a mind/body dichotomy. They are their bodies. And so are you.
Owners of animals as pets take their pets out for regular exercise. They make sure that their pets get healthy food. They try to keep them away from eating things that might be harmful for them. Yeah, I know, lots of animals have suffered from the obesity epidemic as humans have. But the point is, we think of animals in a different way. They "need" exercise. Well, so do you. Your mind will not operate properly if you do not get your daily exercise. You will become more aggressive, more irritable. You will snap at people for no reason. You will be less happy.
Pushing yourself to the limit works for about a week, in my experience. If you are going to try to do it for longer than that, all that is going to happen is that you are going to become less and less efficient and then you will discover that you can do even less than you could before. Is that a sensible way of treating your machine? Treat your machine well, and you will be happier, healthier, and also, you will get more done. Your mind will be clearer. I think you will find that your IQ actually goes up, too.
Organize your life in such a way that you don't need to be in "emergency" mode except for real emergencies (things that you cannot predict and have no control over--there are enough of those in life, believe me!) Find a pattern that works for you. Stick with it. Be good to yourself. Sometimes we end up calling this "selfish," but it makes no sense to me. If you don't do maintenance on your body, you won't be able to do anything to help anyone else. It's just the law of physics. I'm not making this up! Don't think of it as being selfish. Think of it as taking care of the machine.
The thing is, if you keep running your car on the cheapest gasoline and you never take it in for maintenance, what do you think will happen? It will have problems. The problems may be different for each car. One car may start stalling in the middle of traffic. Another car might make great plumes of smoke as it runs. Or simply not start at all. I suppose you might even convince yourself that it's OK, that you can learn to live with these "inconveniences" and you keep living your life the same way.
You tell yourself that you don't have "time" to deal with the maintenance needs of your body. Or you tell yourself that you can take care of them yourself, without having to go see an expert. You may even tell yourself that experts lie, that they don't know anything, that they just want to charge you money. Yeah, well, we do live in a capitalist society, so there is a financial motivation for everyone. But seriously, if you don't take time for something right now, you will pay for it later. And you will pay for it big.
I notice this when I am on deadline and I put everything off. Or when I am training for an Ironman and my kids start to hear the answer "After the Ironman" to every single question that they ask me. Guess what happens after the Ironman? I spend about a month and a half trying to get my life back in order when I am exhausted from a race. It isn't fun. I wish I didn't do this. I wish there was some way for me to deal with all my obligations when they come up. But I get it, life isn't like that. And maybe we humans aren't like that. Maybe we are designed to keep pushing ourselves past our limits.
That said, this is a plea that you will notice your body. The reason that there is a mind/body connection is that there is no mind/body dichotomy. I sometimes think that talk about "souls" has created a whole host of problems in the way that we look at ourselves. Sure, we humans are special animals because we can recognize ourselves in mirrors, we have language, and we are adaptable. Plus, those opposable thumbs. But you don't think of dogs as having a mind/body dichotomy. They are their bodies. And so are you.
Owners of animals as pets take their pets out for regular exercise. They make sure that their pets get healthy food. They try to keep them away from eating things that might be harmful for them. Yeah, I know, lots of animals have suffered from the obesity epidemic as humans have. But the point is, we think of animals in a different way. They "need" exercise. Well, so do you. Your mind will not operate properly if you do not get your daily exercise. You will become more aggressive, more irritable. You will snap at people for no reason. You will be less happy.
Pushing yourself to the limit works for about a week, in my experience. If you are going to try to do it for longer than that, all that is going to happen is that you are going to become less and less efficient and then you will discover that you can do even less than you could before. Is that a sensible way of treating your machine? Treat your machine well, and you will be happier, healthier, and also, you will get more done. Your mind will be clearer. I think you will find that your IQ actually goes up, too.
Organize your life in such a way that you don't need to be in "emergency" mode except for real emergencies (things that you cannot predict and have no control over--there are enough of those in life, believe me!) Find a pattern that works for you. Stick with it. Be good to yourself. Sometimes we end up calling this "selfish," but it makes no sense to me. If you don't do maintenance on your body, you won't be able to do anything to help anyone else. It's just the law of physics. I'm not making this up! Don't think of it as being selfish. Think of it as taking care of the machine.
September 8, 2011
More annoying romance tropes #4, #5, #6
#4 big, strong, hairy men
I happen to like my guys tall, skinny, and not so hairy. Also, nerdy, smart, and more apt to talk their way out of a difficult situation than punch, hit, or shoot their way out. I also like my heroines to think about something other than how big, strong, or hairy this man is. I want her to notice him for something other than his physical attributes and maybe only later think about that. I don't think this is because I am sexually repressed, but I suppose I could be wrong. I think that shallow characters think about sex first and foremost, and more interesting characters have other things to do in their lives, and sex is an extra spice, shall we say, to a good dish.
#5 fainting
When I was in college, one of the first German stories I read was Kleist's Die Marquise von O., written in the 1800s. It is about a woman who faints during a war and is "rescued" by a soldier, then discovers she is pregnant and thinks it is a new "immaculate conception." But no, she was raped while she had fainted. There is some really weird sex stuff going on here, and not so much under the surface, either. The near-rape or falling in love with the rapist is pretty common in old romances, creepily. Fainting seems to me to be a bit the same.
Here's how I understand it. Fainting is a way for the woman to show how overcome she is with the man's sexiness. He has to rescue her, just like in Kleist's story. But his rescue isn't purely altruistic. It's a way to get in her good graces. The reason that fainting still exists in many romances is that it's a way for the woman to be still be feminine, to push off accepting her own sexual feelings. She doesn't have to take responsibility for them because she "needs" the guy in a real, physical way, and he is "rescuing" her.
#6 experienced man/inexperienced woman
I have read a few romances that reverse this, and I think that can be funny and interesting, but most romances still stick with the idea that a woman has to be less experienced in order to avoid becoming a "slut." Whereas men can play around as much as they want and it's never a problem. Don't like either of those stereotypes. Also don't like the way the stereotypes tend to play out. Don't like it when the woman is being pushed into more and more and then it turns out she likes it. See previous discussions of rape romance. I'm not saying this isn't sometimes true. I'm just saying that I'd like to see it framed differently, or not be about this at all.
I happen to like my guys tall, skinny, and not so hairy. Also, nerdy, smart, and more apt to talk their way out of a difficult situation than punch, hit, or shoot their way out. I also like my heroines to think about something other than how big, strong, or hairy this man is. I want her to notice him for something other than his physical attributes and maybe only later think about that. I don't think this is because I am sexually repressed, but I suppose I could be wrong. I think that shallow characters think about sex first and foremost, and more interesting characters have other things to do in their lives, and sex is an extra spice, shall we say, to a good dish.
#5 fainting
When I was in college, one of the first German stories I read was Kleist's Die Marquise von O., written in the 1800s. It is about a woman who faints during a war and is "rescued" by a soldier, then discovers she is pregnant and thinks it is a new "immaculate conception." But no, she was raped while she had fainted. There is some really weird sex stuff going on here, and not so much under the surface, either. The near-rape or falling in love with the rapist is pretty common in old romances, creepily. Fainting seems to me to be a bit the same.
Here's how I understand it. Fainting is a way for the woman to show how overcome she is with the man's sexiness. He has to rescue her, just like in Kleist's story. But his rescue isn't purely altruistic. It's a way to get in her good graces. The reason that fainting still exists in many romances is that it's a way for the woman to be still be feminine, to push off accepting her own sexual feelings. She doesn't have to take responsibility for them because she "needs" the guy in a real, physical way, and he is "rescuing" her.
#6 experienced man/inexperienced woman
I have read a few romances that reverse this, and I think that can be funny and interesting, but most romances still stick with the idea that a woman has to be less experienced in order to avoid becoming a "slut." Whereas men can play around as much as they want and it's never a problem. Don't like either of those stereotypes. Also don't like the way the stereotypes tend to play out. Don't like it when the woman is being pushed into more and more and then it turns out she likes it. See previous discussions of rape romance. I'm not saying this isn't sometimes true. I'm just saying that I'd like to see it framed differently, or not be about this at all.
September 7, 2011
Wednesday Writing: The Easy Life of the Writer
This summer when 11 and I were at the Utah Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City, we spent some time on a backstage tour. I didn't think it would be that interesting to me. I've been in plays before. I've worked backstage plenty. I've directed plays and written them. I thought I knew just about everything that could come up, perhaps in a smaller form, but still the same. But one of the things the actor who took us on the tour said still rings in my mind. He said that most people think of actors as lazy, with easy schedules, sometimes prima donnas who expect the world to cater to their needs. They are all about "feeling" things, and not so much about actually getting stuff done.
I think this prejudice is absolutely part of our culture. We think of many artists this way. The painter with his own studio in his backyard—how easy is that? The writer who just stays in pajamas all day and works on a laptop wherever she wants—isn't that the job that everyone would like to retire to? I'm a writer myself and I often think of my job as "easy." It's just putting down words that I think of in my head. It's all imaginary work if it's work at all.
But what this actor said was that it's completely wrong. He pointed out that actors have a grueling schedule, and they can never be late. They have to be at every play rehearsal on time or the rehearsal simply doesn't happen. They have to stay on set until the director lets them go for the night, sometimes until the wee hours. They may sleep in, but that is only because they are up late on a regular basis. They are working a lot, all those hours when we are relaxing who work 9-5.
Even when actors are not on stage, they are rehearsing lines in their heads, working out problems on stage, figuring out a different way to say a line, and making sure they get on stage at the right moment. If they absolutely cannot perform because they are deadly ill or have lost their voice, they get complaints and are seen as "lazy," because they aren't there when expected. But no one says this about other people who get sick and stay home from a regular day job.
Part of the reason this reverberates in my mind is that I saw a couple of interviews close to the same time that were on the same topic. One was with Hugh Laurie, talking about a stage play he had done. After a few weeks of it, he had an out of body experience where he was floating above his body and he could hear himself saying all his lines, but he wasn't there on stage mentally. It was freaky enough that he went and talked to someone about it. He also decided that he wasn't really meant to be a stage actor because the tedium of the same lines day after day was too much for him. I thought as he spoke that I would also have difficult with that. I would always be tempted to change the lines and the endings of the play each time. I don't know that I could overcome the temptation under stress. And then people would be mad that I changed Shakespeare. Heaven forbid.
The other interview was Stephen Fry, who talked about the filming schedule for an American TV show. He was on Bones for a while, on nearby sets to Hugh Laurie (who kept his American accent "on" when they went out for lunch because it was too hard to switch back and forth). But he pointed out that in Britain, a TV show season is maybe a third or half as long as in America. That means the actors can have a life, and maybe some other gigs to spice up their life. But when you produce so many shows a year, you are on set every day for months on end. There's a break, but it's just barely enough to catch up on real life, and then you're back. And a TV show doesn't work 9-5 either. They work from 6 to whenever the director wraps it. And nights if they need a night scene. And on and on.
I could not work like that. I say that, but as a writer, maybe I really do. A friend of mine was talking to me about reading and said that it must be hard for me not to be able to read for fun anymore. Or really watch any TV or movies for fun. Not that I don't have fun reading or experiencing story in various ways, but there is a working side of my brain that is always on, always analyzing. That is what it means to be a writer. Even in conversation with people, I often find myself stopping the conversation and taking a note about a story or a character that "must" be written about. I'm very rarely not working. When I do triathlon, I am usually not working, but it starts to bleed over there, too.
There is something to be said for a 9 to 5 job that you can leave at the office at the end of the day. I'm not saying those jobs are easy, either. And there are very few that are really 9 to 5 anymore, with the way that everyone has cell phones and can be called on a moment's notice back to work or to fix a problem. But I think it is a little different. Art is really consuming in a way. It's not easy. Not at all.
I think this prejudice is absolutely part of our culture. We think of many artists this way. The painter with his own studio in his backyard—how easy is that? The writer who just stays in pajamas all day and works on a laptop wherever she wants—isn't that the job that everyone would like to retire to? I'm a writer myself and I often think of my job as "easy." It's just putting down words that I think of in my head. It's all imaginary work if it's work at all.
But what this actor said was that it's completely wrong. He pointed out that actors have a grueling schedule, and they can never be late. They have to be at every play rehearsal on time or the rehearsal simply doesn't happen. They have to stay on set until the director lets them go for the night, sometimes until the wee hours. They may sleep in, but that is only because they are up late on a regular basis. They are working a lot, all those hours when we are relaxing who work 9-5.
Even when actors are not on stage, they are rehearsing lines in their heads, working out problems on stage, figuring out a different way to say a line, and making sure they get on stage at the right moment. If they absolutely cannot perform because they are deadly ill or have lost their voice, they get complaints and are seen as "lazy," because they aren't there when expected. But no one says this about other people who get sick and stay home from a regular day job.
Part of the reason this reverberates in my mind is that I saw a couple of interviews close to the same time that were on the same topic. One was with Hugh Laurie, talking about a stage play he had done. After a few weeks of it, he had an out of body experience where he was floating above his body and he could hear himself saying all his lines, but he wasn't there on stage mentally. It was freaky enough that he went and talked to someone about it. He also decided that he wasn't really meant to be a stage actor because the tedium of the same lines day after day was too much for him. I thought as he spoke that I would also have difficult with that. I would always be tempted to change the lines and the endings of the play each time. I don't know that I could overcome the temptation under stress. And then people would be mad that I changed Shakespeare. Heaven forbid.
The other interview was Stephen Fry, who talked about the filming schedule for an American TV show. He was on Bones for a while, on nearby sets to Hugh Laurie (who kept his American accent "on" when they went out for lunch because it was too hard to switch back and forth). But he pointed out that in Britain, a TV show season is maybe a third or half as long as in America. That means the actors can have a life, and maybe some other gigs to spice up their life. But when you produce so many shows a year, you are on set every day for months on end. There's a break, but it's just barely enough to catch up on real life, and then you're back. And a TV show doesn't work 9-5 either. They work from 6 to whenever the director wraps it. And nights if they need a night scene. And on and on.
I could not work like that. I say that, but as a writer, maybe I really do. A friend of mine was talking to me about reading and said that it must be hard for me not to be able to read for fun anymore. Or really watch any TV or movies for fun. Not that I don't have fun reading or experiencing story in various ways, but there is a working side of my brain that is always on, always analyzing. That is what it means to be a writer. Even in conversation with people, I often find myself stopping the conversation and taking a note about a story or a character that "must" be written about. I'm very rarely not working. When I do triathlon, I am usually not working, but it starts to bleed over there, too.
There is something to be said for a 9 to 5 job that you can leave at the office at the end of the day. I'm not saying those jobs are easy, either. And there are very few that are really 9 to 5 anymore, with the way that everyone has cell phones and can be called on a moment's notice back to work or to fix a problem. But I think it is a little different. Art is really consuming in a way. It's not easy. Not at all.
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