I tri!

This morning I competed in my first triathlon as an adult. Dunte and I drove to Midland after I got off work last night, we arrived around 11:30. A big thanks to the Shahan family for hosting us.

So here is the story:

Dunte and I settled in to go to sleep and I was gittery and excited and couldn't go to sleep. To pass the time I was bothering Dunte, which he wasn't thrilled about. To settle down I decided to visualize the race. I imagined jumping in the pool and swimming a smooth relaxed 500 yards, then I imagined getting out of the water and going... where? I didn't know. And then it hit me that I didn't know the setup at all. I didn't know the bike course, I didn't know the run course. This didn't help me nerves but I finished a general visualization and fell asleep.

5:30 came early, but I got right up and was excited, sort of. Dunte and I ate and chatted with Patrick and his dad. Before I knew it we were in the car, and my nerves weren't too bad yet. I was as prepared as I could be, now it was time to do it. We get there, and setting up was more rushed then I thought, and then we waited forever!!

They had a staggered start because it was a pool swim, so with 172 competitors, starting every 30 seconds: it was time to hurry up and wait. Waiting in line I had butterflies, but when I got up to the front I took a couple deep breaths and was ready to start.

Ready. Set. Go.

I jumped in the pool and was ready. I love swimming, I was relaxed and taking it easy. A couple people passed me (which happened a lot throughout the morning) but I was okay with that. 500 meters and 10 minutes, 10 seconds later I jumped out of the pool feeling really good.

I jogged to the bike and put my got all of my stuff, I wasn't terribly disoriented. I spent 2:03 in transition and then was on the bike for a good ride. It was a steady pace, with a steady cross-wind. The landscape was as flat as a crepe, you know those little thin pancakes (hehe). I kicked it into the big ring and stayed there the whole time. Several very encouraging competitors passed me, and I loved all of the support. It really helped, and if I ever pass someone I will be sure to shout my own variation of, "Looking good! Keep it up!" My favorite cheerleader passed me going almost twice as fast as the others and from behind shouted, "Looking good babe!" Before I could even question who this over-friendly stranger was, Dunte flew by me. Check out his story (after the weekend because he is racing tomorrow) at www.thefitlife.me He kicked some serious tail. I down shifted and spun to loosen up my legs before the run, after 54 minutes 54 seconds on the bike this was necessary.

Getting off the bike I felt pretty good, tired for sure. I wasn't completely out of it, but I was wishing I had invested in some bike shorts. I only spent 1 minute 27 seconds in the second transition. Now was the run... the dreaded run.

I got started and things were going well. I ran for 3 or 4 minutes feeling good, and then I found the big ugly wall again. It smacked me right in the face. The run took me 43 minutes and 47 seconds, which is a really long time. I walked a lot, especially in the last mile. I really wanted to run across the finish line, and I didn't think that was going to happen if I ran too much in that last mile. I almost puked, but I didn't.

I did finish, I did run across the finish line and I did finish in under 2 hours. The final time was 1 hour 52 minutes and 22 seconds. I really enjoyed it, Dunte ran with me for the very last part of the run and I enjoyed running with him right before I finished. I wouldn't have done this if it wasn't for his craziness, I am in better shape for it, and I really loved it.

Side note:
You should do a triathlon! You can do them in teams, so find a friend or two and pick the least of the  three evils (for you personally) and do it! It is really rewarding, and not a bad way to spend a couple hours on a Saturday morning.

I want to climb mountains.

Dunte and I just finished watching the movie '180 Degrees South' it is about the founders of the company Patagonia, and their awesome adventures. I highly recommend it, the scenery alone is beautiful and the message is icing on the cake (or ice on the peak).

Now I am itching to climb mountains, RIGHT NOW! This is a major problem because we live in Lubbock, Texas, which I am convinced is as far away from a mountain as any place in the world. We also are short on disposable income, so long trips are not reasonable. Finally, we have a 14 month old. While Tori can walk she isn't quite ready for climbing anything but stairs.

My thirst for adventure sent me to internet, so I could plan future adventures and read in envy about other people's adventures. This search lead me to a great website: the site has every mountain in Colorado above 14,000 feet. The site seems to have everything you could want to know about each peak: maps, pictures, tips, and personal accounts from climbers.

When our Zugspitze climb fell through my dad suggested we climb Pikes Peak when they move to Colorado next year. This peaked my interest (haha) and then I learned that there are 52 peaks in Colorado over 14,000 feet, aka 14ers. I want to climb them all. I have no deadline, I just want to climb them all.

Pikes Peak-- The first of many 14er ascents?

Finding a job in Colorado after graduation is looking more and more appealing, because I want to climb mountains.

Dash and Splash

4 miles running, 400 yards swimming. I have been nervous about it all week because I was completely unprepared. I have never ran four continuous miles before and I have never practiced swimming after running. So here is the story:

We woke up around 4:45 so I could take Becca to the airport. She has been visiting since Tuesday and we had a great week catching up. I got back from the airport around 5:50, ate breakfast, made some muffins for later and got everything ready.

Tori and I left the house at 6:35. I was anxious but not rushed, I had a good breakfast and was feeling pretty good. I dropped Tori off at Mia's house and took a relaxed bike ride to the rec. It was a really nice morning and the bike ride was a good warm up. I got to the rec, parked my bike and checked in. A girl from the fit-well staff wrote the number 45 on my arm and I went to set up my transition area. I chatted with a few competitors as they were coming in, then we all headed over to the pre-race meeting.

As I was looking around I noticed some major differences between this Dash and Splash and the 5K I ran at the beginning of summer. There were no power walkers, no strollers being pushed, uh oh these people are serious. As I noticed this and was starting to get a little nervous, it was time to go. And go we did, the pace was FAST. Everyone took off and the main group was out of sight within six minutes. I was focusing on not getting too excited and running faster than I could maintain. During my training runs I would run for six minutes and and walk for two or three. Today I ran for 13 minutes before I took a break and then I walked for a 1.5 minutes. My left calf and ankle get very sore when I run from the blood clot I had when I was pregnant. The pain creeps in when I rest, so I was determined to never rest long enough to let that pain get too bad. Throughout the 40 minutes it took for me to finish the 4 miles I walked about five times each for two minutes or less.

I got to the two-mile point feeling great! I got there in 16:30 and I was really proud of that. I kept running and was really doing well until about the 22 minute mark. My right foot went completely numb, below the knee all I could feel was pins and needles. It was very strange and, believe me, it is difficult to run with an appendage you can't feel.

I ran through the numbness and thankfully it went away after about eight minutes. Around the 33 minute mark I hit a giant ugly wall, it was right around the 3.5 mile point and I was tired! I wanted to walk, I wanted some water and I wanted to sit the heck down. I pushed through, and made it to the finish. I wasn't in a terrible hurry in the transition area, and I was confused and went the wrong way trying to find the pool. I jumped into the water around 44 minutes and all was right in the world.

I started swimming and it felt so, so amazing! I know how things work in the water, I know what I can do and I know how it will feel. I swam the first 100 yards freestyle and the rest breaststroke, it made breathing easier and I didn't lose too much speed. I had the pleasure of passing a couple people in the water and finished my 400 yards feeling pretty accomplished. I got out the water and my time was 55:10. I finished, and I wasn't even last. If it had just been the run I would have hated it, but the swim made it so fun. I really enjoyed it, and will be having similar adventures soon. We are working on the logistics for a sprint triathlon this weekend.

Dunte I stretched and relaxed in the hot tub then rode back to Mia's to pick up Tori. I took an awesome nap and then made myself a feast. When I woke up I felt... hungover. My brain wasn't working, cooking took twice as long as it should have because I was so groggy. I didn't realize until after I ate that my shirt had been on backwards for an hour. I think my brain was just making sure I knew how hard my body worked that morning.

I learned that four miles is a long way. I was reminded how much I love to swim. I was also reminded how intoxicating competition can be.

For a more athletic perspective from the winner of the men's 18-24 age group, keep an eye on Dunte's blog.

I am 21!!!

July 5th was my 21st birthday. I spent the night celebrating with friends in Austin, Texas and I can't imagine a better way to kick off my 21st year. I have been blessed to never really had a bad birthday and have had some truly amazing ones. This is a story I wrote a couple of years ago about my 9th birthday, which is still my favorite birthday and one of my favorite memories. I hope you enjoy the story. Love you Dad!

My awesome dad being the best Opa ever.

Redoubt #6

July 5, 1999 was my ninth birthday and my dad and I were celebrating at Redoubt #6, the best place to see the fireworks; which I still like to think are just for my birthday. Redoubt #6 is a place, not well known, but loved by the few who are acquainted with it. I have been there countless times, and from August of 1998 to August of 2000 it was my retreat. To get there, I would walk out the back door onto the wooden porch, down the stairs and into the back yard. As I made my way to the back gate I would be sure to avoid the piles left by the dog, Hudson. We adopted him from the animal shelter when my family and I moved to West Point, New York. My youngest brother, Will, was fascinated with the Hudson River. It could be seen from several parts of the small Army base. When the dog came home, Will decided to name him Hudson, because the German shepherd-pit bull mix was the same color as the muddy river.

 Once I exited the back gate, I made my way to the fence that stopped baseballs, big wheels and children from toppling down the “rock cages”, as the neighborhood children called them.  I would climb the fence, taking special care not to fall. The first time I climbed the fence, I fell over and cut my ankle on the rock cage. That emergency room trip resulted in five stitches and was the beginning of a very close relationship with the West Point Emergency Room technicians. After climbing down the rock cages, the first landmark was in clear sight.

This landmark was known as the Big Rock. It was about 15 feet tall, perfect for climbing on. On the top curve of the rock there was an indent perfect for sitting. I would go to this rock to read or write or think among the trees. I would write silly songs and plays, and then force them on my neighborhood friends. Heading northeast from the Big Rock would take you through the fairly thick woods to a small stream. A fallen tree was my bridge to the second part of the hike. A large hill on the other side of the stream took me to a narrow road, used by military RVs and marching cadets.  Cadets are college students attending West Point. There are always 4,000 of them and they crowd the small base like deer. Once on the road, a left turn took me up the steep hill. This was the most difficult part of the hike; I walked with care as I leaned into gravity and the weight of my backpack.

Near the top of the road there is a rusted gate on the right hand side. The gate no longer opened but there was a place where the fence sagged low, making it easy to walk over. My dad always crossed the fence first, and then he would hold out his hand to help me over. Being an independent young woman of 9, I would give him the, “I can do it myself Dad” indignant face and confidently walk over alone. Beyond the fence was a narrow dirt road with extremely thick forest on either side. No matter what time of day, no matter what time of year, this road was always dark and wet. West Point is a fairly rainy place and the trees blocked the sun from reaching the ground. Walking down this narrow corridor was my favorite part of the 2-mile hike. It was the part of the walk where I left all concerns and thoughts. I don’t know what made those 30 yards so relaxing. But I know that every time I emerged from the trees to see the entire town, the river, and the surrounding mountains I only thought of the beautiful view and how glad I was to be there. It was like waking up after a long, restful sleep.

To the uninformed eye Redoubt #6 was just a small clearing that looked over the entire base, surrounded by trees, and protected by a 3-foot wall. However, I knew that cannons were aimed over that wall during the Revolutionary War. Redoubt #6 observes the bend in the Hudson that the American rebels planned on using if British warships attempted to sail up the Hudson.  The bend would make them shift their sails, and slow down enough to be hit with cannon fire from the shore. . I knew that the pole near the tree line was a flagpole, and a beacon of hope for those defending it. I came to understand and respect my father’s profession and knowledge during the trips we made to Redoubt #6. During our two-year stay in West Point he was teaching political science to West Point cadets in their second and third year. Before we moved there we lived in Chicago while my dad was going getting his second master’s degree at the University of Chicago. He was home for six straight years, and those years of presence allowed me to meet my dad.

There is nothing particularly striking about his 5’10” 160 pound frame, except possible his extremely blue eyes. He wears the same jeans that he wore the day he graduated from college in1988, but they don’t look as if they have been worn for 21 years. He has spent most of his days in assigned attire. His tucked in polo and hiking shoes aren’t new and shiny, or old and ragged. His teeth are yellowing from too much coffee. Coffee is one of the few things in excess in his life, except maybe love and war.

The love in his life is his high school sweetheart and wife of 20 years, Jeri, and the four children that she gave him. The war in his life is the Gulf, the conflict in Bosnia, security in Korea, and Operation Iraqi freedom I, III, and VI. The only personal item that has traveled with him to all the parts of the world is a Bible bound in black leather. This Bible, unlike his jeans, is worn thin. The pages are yellowing and turned up. The gold that once lined the edges of the well-known pages is now gone.

We hiked up to the redoubt the afternoon of the Fourth; we would very carefully clear the space near (but not to near) the fire pit. There could be no sticks or rocks or anthills underneath the tent. The tent that we slept in was a faded royal blue. It was a very simple tent that could sleep three comfortably. We had lost and replaced stakes over the years, and we always forgot a mallet so there were small dents on the top of the stakes from the rock that drove them into the ground. Assembling the tent was a familiar dance for my dad and I. We had practiced it so many times that we went through the steps gracefully and effortlessly. After the tent was set up and we had arranged everything inside the tent it was time start the second part of the dance: gathering firewood. 

Gathering firewood is much more complicated than it sounds. First, there is the kindling, which are small sticks and twigs to feed the starting fire. Next, my dad and I would search for medium firewood. These are medium sized sticks that will be stacked to make a teepee shape to house the fire. Finally, we would look for large logs that would sustain the fire. All of these sticks and logs had to be completely dry. After these are all gathered and stacked by the fire pit. I would take the newspaper out of the front pocket of my dad’s extremely large backpack, crinkle it, and place it in the middle of the pit. Around the newspaper, the kindling must be stacked (like a teepee). Then the medium sized firewood would be stacked like a teepee, touching only at the tips. Lighting the fire was the culmination of our long search. My dad always did the honors for safety’s sake. He would put newspaper on the end of a medium sized stick, then light the newspaper and, slide it between the carefully balanced stick teepee and light the bit of newspaper that was purposefully sticking out of the kindling.

The fireworks started around 9:30 and lasted until about 11. We would sit on the small rock wall; I would swing my feet in a melodic mesmerized motion. Beyond the rock wall was a steep hill that some campers used as a dumping ground for toilet paper and liquor bottles. The fireworks were launched from the far side of the Reservoir, which was on the edge of the base, right beside the West Point football stadium. Redoubt 6 was so far above the rest of the base that we were looking down on the fireworks and their reflection off of the river and the bottles.

After the fireworks my dad and I would return to our fire that had been slowly growing in the background. We would stay up until midnight to ring in my birthday. Sitting on the logs that surrounded the fire pit to talk was my favorite part of the night. The fire lit up the small clearing; the outline of the tent, the rock wall, and the tree line could all be seen. The smoke from the fireworks hung as a gray haze in the sky while we talked. For some reason, I cannot remember what we talked about. I looked up occasionally to see the stars fighting to shine through the haze. When the time finally came we would count down the last 10 seconds of Independence Day. With five seconds left we would stand, “Four, three,” the anticipation begins grow on my face. “Two, one. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATE.” We would run around the fire and scream to trees and the stars and the final wisps of haze. He would give me a big hug and kiss the top of my head. Now staying up until midnight doesn’t sound like a difficult task. Most people do it on a regular basis, but my dad’s internal clock is like the Big Ben. He goes to bed at 10 o’clock sharp, and can’t sleep in later than 6am. He is famous for falling asleep during movies, or while lying on the living room floor.

By the time my dad and I had greeted my birthday morning we were both ready for bed. Almost immediately after our brief birthday celebration we would put the fire out with dirt and go to sleep. My dad would wake up around 6, only able to sleep this late because of his delayed bed time, and let me sleep for about an hour. I always sleep so well outside, and waking up early was not a problem.  We would roll up our sleeping pads and bags, then do the tent dance and hike in reverse. When we got home we were greeted by Hudson and my younger brother, A.J.. The rest of the family was asleep and Aj’s seven-year-old mind sat captured by cartoons.

First thing after our camping trip is breakfast. My dad always stands in the kitchen over the omelet, French toast, or pancakes and says, “I show love through food.”  On my ninth birthday my dad made omelets, we sat down in the dining room to eat them and he said once again, “Happy Birthday, Kate.”

Skydiving-- Celebrity Post by Maria Mastracchio

Okay, today is the day. Just breathe. It’s July 3^rd, 2011 the day before my 21^st birthday and I wake up to my mom throwing Oliver, my almost one year old black and white cat, on my bed. “You ready for today?” she said with excitement filled throughout her voice.

Oh, God. Am I ready for today?

In T-minus 4 hours I will be jumping out of an airplane from 10,560 feet. Who on earth talked my into this?

An hour later we’re in the car and begin the two hour car ride down to San Marcos, Texas where our final destination is “Skydive San Marcos.” These are a long two hour and an emotional roller coaster to say the least.

I can do this! I am going to do this! In 1 hour and 45 minutes I will be jumping out of a plane. I am so cool. My life has been so blessed and I am so lucky to have a Mom like mine. Dear Lord, please keep my Mom and I in your sight today and help us make it safely back to the ground….What if we don’t make it back to the ground?  I want Tori to have my frog stuffed animal. I want Katie to have first pick at my clothes then everyone else can join in. Everyone needs to know how much I love them. Wait, I didn’t write this down anywhere. How are people going to know how much I care about them if I don’t make it back? Breathe, breathe again, keep breathing. I can do this!

My two hours are up. I see a plane crashed engine first on the ground. Then a sign, “There is no such thing as a perfectly good airplane. LEARN TO SKYDIVE!” Then another sign “1-800 Skydive, Skydive San Marcos.”  

We pull into the parking lot and I wish I could have stomached more than just a banana this morning. I’m hungry but nervous and my stomach is spinning and knotting every chance it gets. There are tons of cars here, I wonder how many of these are instructors and how many are students. Is this something that a lot of people do often? My stomach slowly begins to unwind as we walk into the building and head to the front desk. We read through paper work, sign and initial a few times giving up every right we have to sue them if anything unexpected happens.

 “Maria and JoeAnna Mastracchio? Right this way please.” We are in a room, lined with equipment for skydiving. Suits, chutes, harnesses and a couple of other people who I assume are heading up in the same plane as us. This man with black and yellow camouflage pants, a blonde beard like Lionitius and a huge grin walks up to me. “Hi Maria, my name is Smiley, I’ll be your instructor and tandem jumper today.” Even though this man reeks of smoke and looks insane, I’m put at ease and the nervous feelings that have been building up are overpowered by my itch for adventure.

Smiley instructs me into a neon green jumper suit, puts on my harness and walks me through the process for the first time. It’s more request than I expected there to be but I listened intently until “We’re squatting at the door of the plane, I want your chin up and I’ll start swaying you. Swaying is the sign of the countdown, one…two...three… then we’ll jump!”

I can’t believe I’m doing this, jumping out of a perfectly good plane, how stupid! We’re instructed to keep ourselves busy until the plane arrives. We wait for our names to be called watching videos of people who had gone earlier that day. Instantly my fear dissolves and my adventuring spirit takes over. I was ready, let’s do this. Why are they making us wait so long?

 All of a sudden a video camera is in my face, “Hey Maria, so what’s going on today?” says Nick who was shortly after introduced as my camera man. I am taken off guard and nervously reply, “Uhhh, I’m skydiving…” We have a short interview on the ground then we’re heading back to the room with all the equipment. Smiley shortly takes me through the in flight process again. We’re walking outside, random employees keep making jokes about how many people Smiley has lost. He mentions if I get detached to remember that he is the one with the parachute and I need to make my way back to him. Ha. Ha. Ha. None of their ploys were working. I am ready, no longer nervous, no longer scared. Just excited and ready.

We duck into the plane and slide back on a bench, Smiley begins connecting our two harnesses while shooting off an endless amount of ridiculous jokes.

“What does a fish say when it hits a wall?....Dam”
“What’s the hardest thing about skydiving?....the ground”
“How does a blind skydiver know he’s close to the ground?... the leash goes limp.”

These continued and then all of a sudden I look out the window and we are in the air. When did that happen? We climb in altitude for about 20 minutes until we are 2 miles up. Nick shines the camera once more in my face for a pre jump interview. I watch one jumper go. Then another. Then a camera man. Then my Mom. It’s my turn. We waddle to the back of the plane attached by the harnesses. Squatting once we reach the edge we face the front of the plane so half my body is inside and half my body is outside. I tilt my head up and arch my back. One sway...two sway…three sway! 

We’re out, free falling heading straight to the ground. The wind is so loud but it doesn’t stop me from screaming at the top of my lungs. Nick comes into view and Smiley grabs onto his feet. The three of us are falling and falling and falling. I can’t stop smiling. Immediately I think no wonder this guy’s name is Smiley, he gets to do this anywhere from 15-20 times a day. We’re falling for about 30-60 seconds. Smiley taps my shoulder and crosses his fingers in hope that our chute will open. I realize instantly that we cannot fall forever and try to enjoy the last few seconds. With a few loud forceful sounds from the chute breaking free from its tiny pack and my body twisting in ways I never thought it could, the wind stops.

We’re sitting in the air looking over central Texas on a beautiful cloud free day, slowly making our way to the ground. Smiley shows me how to maneuver the parachute and all of a sudden we are turning left. Then right. Facing up and facing down. “Do you want to spin?” he asked me to which I responded “Hell yes!” All of a sudden we’re moving in circles like a tornado and I can’t get enough. We straighten out and then we go again. Smiley instructs me on what to do during landing and then says he has one last thing to tell me. Instantly I think it’s some sort of pun about landing, or how he has never landed correctly. He surprises me when he says “Now you can understand why the birds sing” and I did.

We land and Nick rushes up to me getting my final reaction caught on tape.

“So you just jumped out of a plane two miles high, how do you feel?”

“Like I could do it again right now!”

“It’s addicting isn’t it?”

“Completely.” 

We all exchange a few hugs and thanks, my smile still plastered on my face. We made it, we are alive and I can’t wait to do it again. Now.

Thank you Mom for the amazing birthday present and thanks to Skydive San Marcos for really putting me at ease and helping me enjoy and get the most out of my experience.

If anybody is interested you can call them at 1-800-SKYDIVE or visit their website www.skydivesanmarcos.com

**Thank you Mia being brave enough to skydive and to share your adventure.**