Endless Pool

You can buy something called an "Endless Pool" and put it in your backyard, or even your basement. It is essentially a treadmill for swimming: You crank it up, and stroke, stroke, stroke, but never get anywhere. If you get tired, you just stand up, grab your towel and go grab a beer. I've never tried swimming in one, but I've always been intrigued.

I wasn't thinking about Endless Pools when I planned my race season. One of the races that caught my eye was Rocketts Landing, a new race in downtown Richmond. It is an "Olympic Distance" triathlon, which means that the first part, the swim, is 1500 meters. This particular swim, according to the race website, would consist of swimming upstream 800 meters, rounding a small island, and swimming across and down current to an exit further upstream than the exit.

That all sounded fine in January, when I figured I'd have plenty of time in the lazy ole river before race day. Also, I figured it would be really good practice for my half ironman, which will include a swim of 1.2 miles, which equates to 1931 meters. If I can swim 1500 meters in Open Water in May, then surely I can swim 1931 meters in Open Water in September. This race would give me confidence, I figured. So I signed up.

And then it started raining. And raining. And raining, and raining. All this rain is great for the grass and flowers, but it has made the James River, which passes through Richmond and Rocketts Landing, fast and furious. I had signed up for a series of "practice swims" in the James River. I received one after another cancellation notices about these swims:

"We're sorry, the swim is cancelled because we fear for the safety of the swimmers, who might be swept away in the strong current."

"We're sorry, but we can't do the swim practice because there is a lot of floating debris and we fear one of the swimmers may be bonked on the head with a floating tree."

"We're sorry, we'd like to take you out on the river, but the law will not permit us to do so because the water level is so high."

Then someone got smart and read the law more carefully and discovered a loophole. Turns out, the law will permit you to swim when the river is high if you are wearing a "personal floatation device." We were offered the opportunity to buy such a device, and invited to come out for a swim last Wednesday, less than a week before Rocketts Landing. I was expecting water wings, and figured they might keep me afloat, so I ventured to the river. But when I arrived at the river's edge I was given a belt from which hung a rip cord. Apparently, the personal flotation device was to be deployed only if needed.

Twenty five brave soles donned our PFDs, now legally permitted to swim in the raging river. Permitted, perhaps, to be swept away or bonked on the head by floating debris. Coach Michael spoke to the group, announcing that we'd be divided into four groups. The first will swim very fast, VO2 max, the second will swim at threshhold speed, the third will simulate race speed around the buoys. Group assignments were given. I held my breath. "The fourth group," Michael said, "is what I call the 'Comfort Group.'" I raised my hand wildly, "Pick me!" "There are only three spots for this group," said Coach Michael, with a devious gleam in his eye. "If you want to join the Comfort Group, please meet by the tree." Four of us sprinted to the tree. Thankfully, he relented on the three-person cap, and we got ready to be "comfortable" with open water swimming. We got in and attempted to tread water for a moment. This was when the "sweeping away" occurred. We started upriver from the dock, and quickly found ourselves downriver. For the next half hour, though, Coach Michael patiently got us more comfortable with the raging river.

Then he suggested as a finale that we all swim around the buoy placed 50 meters from the shore. So, it was a swim of 100 meters, 1/15th of what I would attempt later that week. I remembered why I was doing all of this, and the struggles cancer patients go through, and I knew I had to do it. I went for it, and got caught in the current. I began to panic, and to hyperventilate. I turned over on my back to catch my breath, and was swept even further downstream. So then I began to swim back, quickly, and more panic and dizzyness set in. I could not see where I was going.

And then an angel appeared, in the form of Emily, on a kayak. I held on, and she talked to me soothingly, and rowed me to the shore, where I stood up and felt the cold mud ooze through my toes. Terra Firma. Well, sorta firma. And no head bonking.

I called it a day, and over the next few days stewed about the Sunday swim. And it rained. And rained. On Saturday, the clouds lifted, and I attended a seminar called "Tackling Your Fear of Open Water." It had to do with taking deep breaths, and envisioning victory. I saw Coach Steve and Coach Dave, both of whom coach me in swimming. They assured me that I could do the swim, though it would be hard. Coach Steve, who has been encouraging me to strengthen my "pull," said it would be important for me to focus on that strong pull throughout the swim, and said if I did that, I would be fine. My friend Lee White suggested that the entire Triathlon was really about getting through the first 800 meters of the swim. After that, it would be easy swimming to the shore, followed by a fabulous bike ride and run. The bike ride was the same length as the Duathlon Nationals, which I had completed three weeks before, but the Du Nationals bike course was much tougher, with more hills and turns. I began to relax and to believe in myself. "I can do this!"

The next morning, at 2:00 AM, thunder struck, and I looked out of the window to see a huge storm. By the time the alarm went off at 4:00 AM, though, it was merely sprinkling. I made my way to the race site, where I set up my transition area. I placed Ariel on the rack and put a towel down next to her. On the towel, I put my bike shoes, running shoes, socks, helmet, sunglasses and race belt, all of which I would need after the swim. I made my way to "body marking," where a woman wrote my race number on my arms and thighs and my age on my calf. I found Holly and we ventured down to the river to plan our swim strategy.

I looked at the river, and it hit me. This was an Endless Pool, except there was no opportunity to stand up and grab a beer! I shared this thought with Holly, who reminded me that after the swim, bike and run, we could have a beer. I took some deep breaths. After consulting with various swimming experts, including Coach Dave, we decided we'd have to swim toward the opposite shore and make our way up the edge of the river, where the current might be bearable.
The swimmers were divided into three waves. In the first wave, men under 40 would swim. Three minutes later, older men would start the swim. Finally, all ladies would start. The younger men were preparing to race, when an announcement was made. The swim was being changed because of the strong current. Instead of 1500 meters, including 800 meters upstream, the swim would consist of only 300 meters, basically going a little upstream, and then across the river, and back. People discussed new strategies. As the young men prepared to enter the water, the sky opened up and a deluge began. The men jumped in and began to swim. The river was an Endless Pool! A few strong swimmers rounded the buoys as required, but the vast majority were not strong enough to fight the river's current. Some grabbed onto kayaks, as I had done just a few days earlier. Others floated downstream, where they were rescued by a speedboat. The race director announced an end of the swim.

And just like that, the competition was a Duathlon. Instead of the swim, we would start with a two-mile run, and then do the 25 mile bike and 10K run as planned. Back at transition, everything was soaked. Fortunately, I had some extra socks, so I prepared for the race. Some people began to panic about the rain and how it would make the bike ride difficult. I had not thought of that. My friend Beth, who had planned to do the Duathlon at this race all along, told me she was leaving because she didn't want to ride in the rain. I sprayed my glasses with swim goggle de-fogger and resolved to go on.

As it turns out, it isn't easy riding a bike in a storm. And, ironically, Ariel does not like a Tempest. This particular tempest brought not only rain, but also howling winds, which buffeted Ariel back and forth on the road. I had to try mightily sometimes to keep from crossing the double yellow line (a two minute penalty) and to keep control of Ariel. I gripped her tightly. She greeted this treatment with stony silence. And there were no complaints when I took the downhills cautiously. The course included one huge downhill, followed immediately by a right hand turn. Normally you would want to fly down the hill to gain speed, but I feared a wipe out, so I proceeded at a granny's pace. Still, the volunteer at the corner urged me to slow down more. "Slick corner!" she shouted. I learned later than many of the faster cyclists wiped out at this corner. But I cautiously proceeded. All in all it was a great ride, but it was rather lonely because I was by myself with the exception of Ariel, who was quiet as a mouse.

After the bike was a 10K run, which included parts of the canal walk and flood wall-really a beautiful run, with some challenging steps and a big hill in the midst. My run time was a little slower than my recent 10Ks, as would be expected following the long bike. In the end, my total time for the race was 3 hours 18 minutes, and some seconds. Another step toward my ultimate goal of the Half Ironman, and toward the goal of helping to cure cancer!

Duathlon: Hills and Heat

A duathlon is a race involving two sports. I wondered the other day why they don't call it a "biathlon," and learned that a biathlon is a race where you go cross country skiing and shoot a rifle at the same time. Woah! I grew up in Alabama, so you know I've done only one of these sports. I decided to stick to duathlon. Turns out duathlon's two sports are HILLS AND HEAT.

My mission, should I choose to accept it, would be to slay these two terrible dragons while running 10 kilometers, cycling 25 miles and then running another 5 kilometers. I know, it sounds crazy, but I knew it would help me toward my ultimate goal of completing a half ironman in honor of my Dad. Besides, they were giving away a really nice backpack, running shirt and hat, according to the website. So, I signed up (non-refundable). Then I studied the course map. This turned out to be the wrong order of business.

Every day, I drive to work down a huge hill, right in front of the headquarters of Ethyl Corporation (now called Newmarket). After signing up for this race, I learned that I would have to ride down this huge hill on my bike THREE TIMES during this race. Really, it is a mountain. Good thing Moses didn't have a bicycle, I thought, or we might not have the Ten Commandments. It is the sort of hill that Ariel loves, and the sort that makes me want to sit down and cry. Ariel and I had practiced the three-loop bike course twice before the race, but I had cleverly reduced the number of times I had to go down the hill by deviating from the course. Ariel doesn't have a good sense of direction, so she didn't know to complain. But on race day, I knew I had to stick to the course. Every morning leading up to the race, as I drove my car down the hill, applying the brakes to avoid certain death, I thought "I am going to die on this hill on April 26th." I tried to calm myself by figuring that the odds of actually dying on the Horrendous Hill were probably pretty small. And I knew that this race was just another step in the journey to help in the fight against cancer. So, in spite of my fear, I decided I would conquer the Hills.

Then, a couple days before the race, the warning emails began. Turns out, the Hills weren't going to kill us. Temperatures were predicted to go into the mid-90s, so the HEAT was going to make us all die of dehydration, unless we were very careful. Coach Michael took a scientific approach and explained electrolytes: "In normal conditions, assuming you are not a super heavy sweater and deal with heat well, the recommendation is 600-800 mg of sodium per hour. If it is super hot (which it will be) and/or you are a heavy sweater, the recommendation is more like 800-1000 mg/hour." I didn't understand all of this, but I immediately began to sweat. Coach Sean took a more lighthearted view of race day, dishing out this Lovin' Spoonful:

Hot Town, Summer in the City
Back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people lookin' half dead
Walkin' on the sidewalk, hotter than a matchhead

I was grateful for all the support from my coaches and my teammates, and I began hydrating to get ready for the race. The night before the race, Steve and I attended a progressive dinner==a fundraiser for the SPCA. I politely turned down all the cocktails and drank lots of water.

Race day came, and almost time for me to begin my run. I spied Joe Zielinski, confident runner (overall assistant coach for the marathon training team) and novice cyclist, and we compared worries. I feared the crash and burn, and I think Joe feared dehydration and flat tires. Neither of us feared the runs too much, though we knew they would be hard because of the terrain and the weather. The men in my age group went off 5 minutes before the women, so I watched Joe take off, in his running element.

There were 39 women in my age group doing the race, so after the men disappeared we adies crowded in a single lane on the street at the top of the Horrendous Hill. We would begin our 10K with a descent on foot down the same hill we'd have to travel three times on the bike later in the morning. All of us were aglow with sweat==the heat was already unbearable. I got in the back because I am a very slow runner, even compared to ladies my age. Two women stationed themselves near me, toward the back of the pack, and discussed their usual pace==one said 9 minute miles and the other said 10 minute miles, but they agreed they would go a bit slower today because of the heat. On a good day, my pace for a 10k race is about 11 minutes per mile, assuming that I didn't have to do anything after running the 10K except eat a bagel. This would be a bad day and the bagel wouldn't appear for many hours. The gun went off, and down we went. Some hills are great for running because your speed picks up, but hills that are too steep require lots of work just avoiding falls. This was the latter type. The little pack of ladies spread, and I was left behind quickly.

But soon a woman who had stationed herself in the front of the pack found herself being overtaken, and I had myself a running buddy. Donna was from Franklin, North Carolina, and she said she planned to run for 9 minutes and then walk for 1 minute throughout the 10K run. I had not planned to take walk breaks, but suddenly it seemed to be a fabulous strategy. The key, after all, would be not to go too fast, nor too slow, but to run the 10K at a Goldilocks pace. We both ran with water belts around our waists. Donna pointed out that we therefore could avoid stopping at the water stops and just drink what we carried. In the end, we drank what we carried, we stopped at the water stops and drank what they had too, and we took a cup of water at the stops to pour over our heads. Everywhere we went, I seemed to know someone. Some were marathoners who trained with me, and called out, "You're doing great, Maymont Amy!" I saw Tommy, who is a regular at the Wednesday night runs from the church, who encouraged me. Lee White, whom I know from marathoning, Endorphin Fitness, and really everywhere, passed us going the other way on the run and cheered us on. At a water stop, someone yelled, "Hey Coach Amy! You were my coach for the 10K at the Downtown Y." Donna remarked, "you know everybody!" It felt great to hear my name and an encouraging word throughout this run.

At the end of the 10K, we knew we'd be parted for the bike course, so I asked Donna for her last name so I could look her up in the results. "My name is Donna McDaniel," she said. "I am Amy McDaniel Williams," I said. AMAZING! Here I was doing this race as a training race for the big one, which would be dedicated to my Dad, Ben McDaniel, and someone sent to me a distant relative (by marriage) to keep me sane. Later, I learned that I completed the 10K run in 1 hour and 10 minutes, which matched my time for the Monument Avenue 10K (a race that ended at the finish line of the 10K run).

But I still had to do the biking. So I smiled as Donna McDaniel and I parted, and I contemplated my next moves. I found Ariel, put my helmet on, drank some powerade, changed my shoes, and took off, walking toward the bike exit. My heart was racing, thinking of the BIG HILL. I took off and went up a pretty steep hill to get to the front of the Ethyl building, took a deep breath, and began my descent. I did apply my brakes most of the way down, but toward the end I let go. "WHEE!" said Ariel. " Thank you, Amy!" She had been pretty upset with me for not taking her out very often lately. I had been sick, and then working late, so she hadn't seen much action.

After a bit, I got into the rythym of the ride and began to enjoy it. The loop includes not only the killer hill in front of Ethyl, but also some pretty challenging ups and downs on Riverside Drive, a winding, hilly road with gorgeous homes, plants and flowers, and views of the river. Just before turning around on Riverside Drive, we had to travel up a killer hill. With my legs sore from the 10K run, it was harder than ever to get to the top! UGGGGG! During the bike ride, I was careful to drink whenever I had a flat moment. As I finished the first loop and came through Ethyl the second time, to approach the Killer Down Hill, my friend Beth was there to cheer me on. That made me feel better and the Killer Down Hill didn't seem that bad. Third time through, Coach Michael was there, and he said earnestly "Amy, you are doing great! Keep up the good work!" I knew I wasn't doing great compared to others, but I realized at that moment that I was doing well for myself, and of course that's all that matters for me. So the third time down the BIG HILL wasn't bad at all. "WHEEEEEEE!" said Ariel (and maybe Amy said so too).

But then I realized something terrible. My water bottle was nearly empty. Plus, my right calf was cramping up terribly, something I had not experienced before, but which I understood came from dehydration. I had a second water bottle with me, but I had never had to remove the back water bottle from my bike while riding on it. I reached for it, and realized I wasn't sure I could do it without falling off the bike. Even if I got it off once, I was not convinced I would have the confidence to remove it often enough to drink the whole bottle. I debated what to do for a mile or so, and I became very thirsty. Finally, I pulled over, jumped off the bike and switched the bottles. A kind teammate passed me and asked if I was okay, "Yes, just adjusting water bottles!" I shouted. I lost a minute or two making this adjustment, but it was worth it because, in the final six miles of the bike ride, I drank the entire 16 ounce water bottle I had rejiggered. And suddenly, the bike ride was over.

What greeted me, of course, was the thought of running another 3.1 miles. My leg was still cramping, so I massaged it and drank some more powerade. One of my teammates, Nick, complained that his legs were cramping. Apparently it was some sort of epidemic. I tried to shake it off and started running. A slow jog was about all I could muster. I decided not to take walk breaks, but to jog at a steady rythym. After about a mile, a woman appeared from behind and told me that rumor had it the 5K course was not really 3.1 miles, as advertised, but a bit short. I said a little prayer of thanksgiving. The run ended with a cruel, rocky hill back to transition. Pointing me toward the finish line was one of my duathlon coaches, who shouted an outrageous white lie: "You look strong!" he shouted. I crumbled at the finish line, and Coach Dan (one of my original marathon training coaches, and the head Monument Avenue 10K coach) handed me a cold washcloth. He told me to put it on my neck. I did, and a surge of strength came back to me. I had beaten the Hills and the Heat, and the Duathlon got me one step (or maybe two steps) closer to that goal of helping to cure cancer!

I was 38th out of 39th in my age group: angel Donna McDaniel collected the "tuna."

My overall time was 3:35:53, consisting of 1:10:16 run, 3:24 in the first transition, 1:46:49 on the bike, 2:16 in the second transition, and 33:10 on the last run.

Monday's Maymont Fun Run

Every once in a while, you need a break from intense concentration. So Monday I went on a scavenger hunt run with some friends at Maymont. It was a hoot! I think possibly it was the slowest run I've done in a long time, but also the most fun. We learned a lot about Maymont as we traveled up and down the hills. (There's a reason it's called May"MONT." Please let me know if you would like a copy of the running route (which is also a great walking route if you are a walker) and scavenger hunt. Maymont is a FABULOUS place==go check it out. www.maymont.org

Tuesdays with Tickle-Me Ariel--April 2nd

Those of you who have known me for a while will remember that the first "adult" bike I bought was Agnes, a comfort bike. Agnes is designed for "tootling around the neighborhood." I also commute to work on Agnes sometimes. She's not fast, so when I decided last year to do a triathlon, I got Ariel, "Lion of God." She is so fast that her frame is covered with flames of flickering fire.

Every Tuesday, Ariel and I meet a group of cyclists under the supervision of Endorphin Fitness for a really fast ride. The purpose of these rides is to go so fast that your heart rate is elevated to a specified level and is maintained at that level for the duration of the workout. The workout is done in a loop that is about 1000 yards long, with the first part of the loop a series of downhills with twists and turns, followed by a steep uphill climb and then a very short flat portion. The idea is to go as fast as you can the whole way, up and down, finishing several loops, with your tongue hanging out. Many of the other cyclists are so glad at the end of the hour because they are exhausted and want to rest. I am glad because I am still alive.

Ariel loves to ride fast. Have you ever watched a three-year old at the ski slope? No fear. That is Ariel all over. She loves the Tuesday rides more than anything. But lately, Ariel has become dissatisfied with her rider. Because of her disappointment, she has developed a voice. I wish I could share her voice with you, but to give you a good sense, imagine what "Tickle Me Elmo" would sound like, if Elmo were a girl.

Tickle-Me Ariel: Amy! We've got the downhill as our advantage. Go faster. You can't be breathing hard enough. I can go faster==millions of miles faster. Faster! Wheeee!!

Amy: Are you crazy? Don't you see that corner coming up?

Ariel: You got it. Just go wide before the turn, like they taught you. You can do it!

Coach Dave: Amy, you can do it. Trust yourself! You don't need to brake now.

Ariel:Yeah! Trust yourself. Or better yet, trust me. Trust meeee, Amy!

Amy: (Softly, aloud to Coach Dave): I'm scared...

Amy:(to Ariel): I'm applying the brakes.

Ariel: Nooooo. Not the brakes. oh..... That's sooo sad...

Amy: Well, we are alive.

Ariel: If you call this living.

Amy:Here comes the uphill.

Ariel: I'm okay going slower here.

Amy: No, now we've got to work! Work, work, work!

Coach Michael: Great job, Amy. Keep it up all the way to the line.

Amy: (softly, tongue hanging out) uggggg.

Ariel: Okay, now it's time to go downhill again. You are so chicken. This is Agnes's fault, isn't it? Didn't she make you crash? Not much of a comfort bike, if she throws you off as though she were a rodeo bull! Do you call that comfort?

Amy:Ariel! That's not nice. I don't know if it was Agnes's fault. I hadn't ridden her since November, and forgot how well her brakes worked. That's why I went straight over her handlebars and hurt my hand.

Ariel: So badly you didn't ride me for days and had to go get your hand, the size of a cantelope, X-rayed. For heaven's sake, stop riding that big girl. Ride me; I am an angel. I won't stop too quickly for you!

Amy: Angel my foot. You are a pixy!

Ariel: I am not into mischief. But you are doing a Half Ironman! I don't think you can do it if you are so chicken that you wear out my brakes! Aren't you doing this to help cure cancer. For that, you gotta take a few chances.

Amy: Oh, my. Raising the ante, are we? You are going to make me cry. I will try harder, but I must be realistic. I am not three; I am forty-six years old.

Ariel: Okay, we'll compromise. You go safely, but work hard riding me till you feel comfortable going faster and know you will not crash.

Amy: Well, the workout is over now, so let's talk to our teammates.

Coach Michael: Great workout. Is everyone appropriately exhausted?

Crowd: Oh, my, I can barely breathe I am so tired! I am in pain!

Amy (bewildered, raising her hand): Maybe it's just me, but...

Ariel: Oh, my God, you are going to tell them what a wimp you are. Put your hand down! This is not law school and you are not the free space in bingo.

Amy: Umm. Well, I am not particularly tired because I can't go very hard down those hills.

Coach Michael: Why is that? Is there something wrong with your bike?

Ariel: Holy cow, you aren't going to blame this on me, are you? I can go as fast as lightening down the hills if you'll let me.

Amy: No, the bike is great. But I feel that, if I go any faster, I will crash and die.

Crowd: HO! HO! HO! Hee Hee Hee. HA HA. Amy is so funny.

Amy: Umm. I'm not kidding.

Ariel: I am so embarrassed.

Coach Wendy: It is very important not to crash and die. (You may remember Wendy coached
me through last year's triathlon, and I did not crash and die).

Coach Michael: It may be that your fitness is ahead of your bike handling skills. This just means that you have to push even harder going uphill or in the flats, and you have to practice your bike handling skills more.

Ariel: WHEEEEE! I LOVE COACH MICHAEL. MORE BIKING!! MORE FUN!! And, Amy, I'll help you get ready for the Half Ironman. And help you to support those who are curing cancers. Together, we're a team. We can do it!!!!!!!!

10K Races with Many Pebbles

Well, as you know, before I started cycling and swimming I started my adult fitness regimen with running. So you'd think I'd be getting faster, huh?

Two years ago, I ran the Monument Avenue 10K in 1 hour, 6 minutes and 55 seconds. Last year, I wanted to run it in under and hour, but I got a horrible cold and finished in 1 hour and 5 minutes. So this year, I felt great. So, what was my time? 1 hour 10 minutes, 32 seconds. Perhaps that should be a great disappointment, but instead it is indicative of my relatively light running load of late. Because of the stress fracture last year, I have not been running much, and I most of my running has been slow. I did have a lot of fun, though, running the race with my friend Julia amongst a giant gaggle of cave women. You are probably thinking Wilma and Betty, but these were decidedly Pebbles. Beautiful pink Pebbles with bones tied in ponytails on their heads. Eventually, the cave girls outpaced Julia and me, and we finished the race sometime in the 21st century.

I had not planned another 10K for a while, but the Saturday immediately following the Monument Avenue 10K, my friend Beth persuaded me to come to her house near Ashland, where we rode our bikes 6 miles to the start of a 10K running race, ran the race, and then biked back to her house. We agreed not to take the race seriously, since we both had run the Monument Avenue 10K the week before. So we did it, and lo and behold, I did BETTER than I had at Monument. Still not a PR, but okay. 1 hr, 8 minutes, 32 seconds, precisely two minutes faster than Monument. I knew things were going well, when I passed a Pebbles. She was wearing her cave girl costume from the week before.

Anyway, as you know, my ultimate goal this year is not to run a fast 10K, but to manage somehow to finish a half marathon after exhausting myself with a long swim and a long bike ride. I'll never be a fast runner, but I can endure: all to help cure cancer.

Super Heroes

Over the years, I've had many heroes, mentors, coaches, and one Super Hero. My Dad, who has always been there for me, is my Super Hero. When I was five years old, my favorite pastime was watching cartoons on Saturday mornings with Dad. Let me take you back with me.
Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote appear on screen. As the cartoon begins, Wile E. Coyote unwraps a new device from Acme Corporation, with which he certainly will catch the Road Runner ( Beep Beep ). He sets it up, and he waits. But something odd happens. He doesn't catch his prey. No, instead, he ends up burnt to a crisp, squashed flat, at the bottom of a canyon. But then, mysteriously, in the next scene, the Coyote is all better. He's walking around and plotting his next trap. Daddy! I say, How did they do that? And Daddy replies, I don't know honey. It must be trick photography. Trick photography. This trick photography exchange becomes a ritual for Daddy and me, in many contexts. Daddy, was that trick photography again? Yes, honey, I do believe it was.

(If only trick photography worked to cure cancer the way it revived Wile E. Coyote!)

Following the trick photography, we are inundated with commercials for sugary cereal Mom refuses to buy us. Apple Jacks, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms, Trix. All just out of reach==on the TV screen. She made an exception for vacations and birthdays. Once, the day before we were scheduled to go to Florida for vacation, she bought a box of Kaboom! cereal (the ! is part of the name), and said we could eat it before we got in the car the next morning. My brother loved Kaboom! so much he took it to bed with him so he'd be sure to get some the next morning. We got up and the Kaboom! was nowhere. Mom and Dad snapped a picture of Ben in bed, the Kaboom! cereal clutched in his arms. Kaboom! was advertised every Saturday on Road Runner.
Anyway, back to my days of watching cartoons with my Dad: After all the Kaboom!, the next cartoon starts. A crowd of people look up in the sky and say, "Look in the sky. It's a plane! It's a bird!" A woman wearing large black glasses exclaims, "It's a frog!" Another onlooker responds, "A frog?" To this, Underdog replies with these words:

Not plane, nor bird, nor even frog,
It's just little old me, [sound of Underdog's crash==Kaboom!]
Underdog.

Yep, my hero, Underdog. Underdog, Shoeshine Boy's heroic alter-ego, appears whenever Sweet Polly Purebred is in trouble.

I continue to get inspiration from the memories of watching cartoons with Dad. He is still my Super Hero. As an Underdog, I need all the help I can get to achieve my goal of completing a Half Ironman in honor of my Dad and in support of his struggle with lymphoma. So, I have other important mentors and coaches to help me in my quest.
This winter, I took a series of swimming lessons from Som Sombati, who emphasized the need to swim like a fish in water, comfortably, instead of like a woman who has been thrown in the deep end of a swimming pool and is attempting not to drown. He taught me a number of drills to make me feel slippery. And then Som inspired me by telling me he was about to finish his sixth Ironman competition for the year. Six Ironman competitions? I couldn't believe it. Six marathons in a year is crazy enough, but six competitions where you swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and then run a marathon? He went on to explain that he had turned 60, so for a birthday present to himself he was treating himself to six Ironman races==one race to celebrate each decade of his life. Wow!

So, he inspired me. Accordingly, as you know, I am doing a Half Ironman, to celebrate the fact that I am five years old.

Well, in a way it's true. I am celebrating the love that I have for my Dad, which goes way back to my childhood, and that wonderful feeling I had watching the cartoons with my Super Hero at age five.

More recently, I began taking swimming lessons (and cycling lessons) from Coach Dave at Endorphin Fitness. I decided I liked Coach Dave right away the night he taught us all to do Superman. I didn't tell Dave, but I had a bit of an advantage in this exercise, because Superman is a regular exercise that I do with my personal trainer, Tina Tucci. Tina is one of my many coaches. She promises to help me get through the Half Ironman uninjured. That seems important.

Superman consists of lying on your stomach, arching your back and lifting your arms and legs up as though you are Superman flying through the city to fight crime, or maybe stamp out cancer. Coach Dave explained this maneuver, and we all tried it on the deck of the pool. I pretended to be a natural, secretly glad to have done this pose many times before. Then, Dave kicked it up a notch. Get in the pool, he said, and do Superman in the water.
Say what? I tried. Without the pool deck to hold my body flat, I found my legs were sinking like anchors. Coach Dave noticed.

Amy, Dave asked pointedly, in a stage whisper designed for all to hear, does Superman stick his butt out when he flies?

What an image. I contracted my stomach muscles and pulled in my rear, and suddenly I was floating on the water, emulating Superman's position during flight. I felt great. Dave explained: Superman helps you feel balanced and comfortable so the swim feels easy.
Competitive swimmers can wear themselves out in a race because when they are done, they just go eat their Wheaties. On the other hand, for a triathlon, feeling comfortable during the swim is key. If I wear myself out during the swim portion of the Half Ironman, the first leg of the event, trying to go fast and therefore improve my time, I could emerge from the water exhausted. That could be bad given that at that point, I will have to ride for 56 miles on my bike and then run a half marathon. I don't want to blow up that early in the race. Can you say Kaboom!? Come to think of it, I am going to celebrate the end of the Half Ironman with a bowl of Kaboom! I think Mom will let me.

But to make sure I get to eat Kaboom! rather than blow up, I practice my comfortable swimming, Superman style, at the Downtown YMCA. But I've noticed I am very, very slow. There are fast swimmers at the Y who swim near me. Andie, who has swum across the Chesapeake Bay, said to a friend of mine, Amy doesn't swim fast at all, but her stroke is gorgeous. So far so good, but I do have to finish the Half Ironman in eight hours, and if I am in the water hours after the start I will be in trouble!
So I told Dave I felt great about floating in the water, but when would we learn to propel ourselves forward as fast as Superman? How does Superman do that, anyway? I asked.

Dave hasn't answered the question yet, but I know the answer. As Daddy would say:
"It's trick photography."