Indoor Rowing World Championships

This year was my second year to attend the Indoor Rowing World Championships (called the Crash-Bs) in Boston.  This event has athletes race an erg for 2k.  It's ironic for me, an endurance enthusiast who enjoys hours and hours of 'comfortably hard' effort, to enter into a race that should ideally take me under 8 minutes to complete at maximal 'painful every second' effort.  But, it's a fun challenge to try something different, and step into a world that I'm not at all familiar with.

(The jumbo screen showing a 'virtual boat race' for the folks erging)

 

Last year I accidently weighed in above the cut-off for lightweight, so over the two weeks leading up to race day I was concentrating on keeping my weight down so I could row lightweight.  Luckily, come race morning I weighed in below the cut-off, so that was a small victory!

I warmed up in the bull pen, and was amazed at the international field in attendance.  On the three warm-up ergs to my left were athletes from Germany, all conversing in their native language.  I had a rower from Mexico take the erg to my other side to warmup.  It was intimidating to think that these are athletes that represent their country in international competitions - and I was a runner who uses the erg in the winter to cross train a bit.

(The set-up with 100+ ergs on the gym floor)

 

It's hard to describe the atmosphere at this competition - because an indoor rowing race doesn't sound like it would be such an awesome experience.  But, the event organizers took a basketball arena and turned it into an incredible venue - there are about 100 ergs lined up in two u-shaped rows facing out towards the audience (utilizing half of the arena floor).  That means that up to 100 rowers are racing simultaneously while the audience is facing them.  Also, every erg is connected to a computer that allows the timers to display a virtual race on the jumbo-tron screen - so the audience knows exactly who is leading the race, which athletes are surging and fading, and where their friends and family are in their races.  It also means that as we're racing, our monitors display how we're doing compared to other athletes.  Stepping through the curtain that divides the floor (between the warm-up area and the racing floor) is intimidating, but also gave me an adrenaline rush before my race.

I was fortunate to have Laura as my coxswain.  She was my cox last year at this race, is the instructor of my erging class, and even paced me for the last 23 miles of my best 100-mile race.  She knows exactly how to push me and when to motivate me.  (She's also an incredible rower herself, but she was racing in a later heat).

(My erg monitor just after I finished, showing me where I was during the race)

The race start came quickly, and I was off - rowing according to my plan.  In past 2k time trials I have made the mistake of going too hard at the beginning and paying the price later - so my goal was to keep even splits around my goal pace.  I felt good, battling with 3rd place and keeping a steady even pace with about controlled hard effort.  The rower to my left was from England, and I was surprised to be beating her.  I stayed steady through 500m, 1000m, and every time my pace slowed a bit I would just pick up the tempo and resettle on my goal pace.  But, as I hit the 1500m mark (3/4th done!) suddenly my quads started to burn...I was cooked.  Laura did her best to encourage me, but my splits kept going up as I slipped solidly to 4th place then to 5th place.  I tried to pick up my turnover to drop my pace but stroke after stroke the pace kept climbing.  I finished 7:51, which was only 3 seconds behind my 2013 time. I was certainly disappointed in my effort, but I also felt completely spent like I couldn't have given any more. 

(In the finish stretch - the pain on my face says it all)

I don't know quite what happened.  Perhaps I do better if I start out hard and die - knowing that a positive split is just a given?  Perhaps I was paying the price for cutting weight all week and compromised my strength and energy in the process?  Maybe I just had an off day?  Maybe all the biking I did to cross train last week (due to the snow and road conditions) fatigued my legs?  Either way, I was a bit disappointed in my race.  Laura reminded me that I was racing some of the top rowers from around the world, and that any time below 8:00 is competitive - which helps me put it in perspective.  After all, I finished 5th place at a World Championship event...no shame in that!

(Post race - I am happy to be done, but disappointed in my time)

Winter Hiking

My training buddy Sara broke her foot several months ago.  On Monday, she got the 'all clear' to start running and training again.  Sara's an avid mountaineer, so to celebrate, we decided to head up to the White Mountains and do a winter hike.  She knew how inexperienced I am at it, but luckily she was happy enough to have a buddy that she didn't care that she would have to loan me a ton of gear, show me how to use it, and wait patiently as I stumbled around trying to figure out how to walk on snow-covered rocks with crampons on my feet. 

(Sara, pacing me at VT50 this year)

Since Sara really wants to find a buddy to do these adventures with her, I told her the goal should be to be sure I summit something, and that I stayed warm...a tall order on a cold windy day in the Whites.  That ruled out an attempt on Mt. Washington, where we likely would have been turned around before reaching the summit. 

(Sara, covered in frost)

We decided to do the Lincoln and Lafayette loop over Franconia Ridge.  Brian decided last minute to join us, which was great.  Luckily he's experienced enough to own his own gear and all.  Actually, in our time together, Brian has once ever gotten me out for a winter hike - when we hiked Cascade and Porter in the Adirondacks on Valentines Day...and he proposed.  I was secretly hoping that if I finished another winter hike, he might again reward me with jewelry, but no such luck. 

(Brian and I on our only other winter hike - we got engaged just before this photo)

 

(Brian and I on the Franconia Ridge)

So after an early morning start and a long drive north (and after Sara lent me tons of gear and helped me put it on) we were heading up the trail.  I found it hard to hike in the stiff boots (which felt like they had no tread on the bottom), but the views were amazing as we looked at frozen waterfalls beside the trail and snow covered trees.  About halfway up, it was time to put on the crampons - which gave me better traction but certainly made my calves sore as I tip toed up the trail.  Towards the top of the trail, the trees suddenly got shorter, and before I knew it we were above tree line and on the first peak.  If I had realized that, I might have thrown my storm shell on earlier to block the wind - but luckily I warmed up quickly once it was on. 

(Brian and Sara, enjoying the early miles)

 

For the first 10 minutes of the hike across the ridge, the wind was howling.  My face was fully covered but still was freezing.  I was grateful we didn't decide to do Washington in this wind, but also wondering how I would make it about an hour across this ridge.  Luckily, after about 10 brutal minutes, we either got to the non-windy side of the mountain, or the gusts let up - either way, the rest of the hike across the ridge was fairly comfortable.  There were occasional gusts of wind but in general it was fairly calm.  The clouds rolled in halfway across the ridge, so our views went away before I got any photos of the Pemis...which was unfortunate.

(Sara and I, proudly standing on my first peak of the day!)

 

After the last peak, the initial hike down the mountain was rough.  There was minimal snow covering the loose rocks, and with the inflexible boots and crampon on, I found myself stumbling around a lot.  I felt like a drunk person trying to walk.  I am surprised I didn't nose-dive into a rock pile in that section.  Luckily, Brian hiked ahead here - he gets nervous for me when he sees me stumbling around, so it's best that he just doesn't watch (it's why we don't often trail run together!).  Sara hiked behind me to ensure that I didn't get injured...and was very gracious about not making me feel stupid for my inability to move gracefully.

(Sara and I, showing just how awkward it is to walk on rocks with crampons)

 

I was pleased when we reached tree line and were below the rocks and the wind.  We enjoyed sliding down some of the steeper sections of the trail on our butts, and I especially loved the amazing views from the trail of the ridge we just hiked as well as across to Cannon Mountain.  As we reached the cars, I happily commented that we were finishing the day with all 30 fingers and 30 toes...that's success in my book!  While I'll be sore in some random places after the hike - it was fun to try something new and enjoy the beautiful sights seen only in the winter. 

(The beauty of the winter)

From 2013 to 2014

For both Brian and I, there is a lot to be pleased with when reflecting on 2013.  We shared some amazing experiences, had some great running results, and traveled to do a few new (to us) races. 

(Amy about to finish her NH 4,000 footers)

Brian did well again - he continues to race consistently strong.  He's most proud of his Cascade Crest 100 Mile victory, where he ran away from the field after about 20 miles and ultimately finished about 15 minutes behind the course record.  It was his first 100 mile race other than Vermont 100, and he seemed happy to experience some new trails and prove that he belongs in the mountains.  I think it's great to see him excel at the 100 mile distance, since he doesn't have the confidence in the 100 milers that he has in the 50 mile distance. 

(Brian, running in the Cascade Mountains)

I had some solid results, often challenging myself with tougher fields, but I am pleased with my continued growth and improvement.  I am also proud that I finally finished my NH 4,000 footers (which has been a bucket list item for years now).  One of my most special moments of 2013 was finishing Mountain Masochist, and the few moments following.  I had gotten updates from aid station workers that Brian was in the lead with 4 downhill miles to go, but knowing that he had gotten passed with 1/2 mile to go a few years ago, I knew that this race goes to the finish line.  I was also pushing hard over those last 4 miles to ensure that I stayed ahead of the 2nd place female.  As I crossed the finish line, an unlikely champion of this iconic event, my first thought was to see if Brian and I had both won to earn us a rare Rusiecki sweep.  That first moment, learning that he had won, letting the fact that I had won sink in, as he held my tired body - that's a moment I won't soon forget.

(Amy, trail running in Wales)

This year was a bit of everything.  I experienced my lifelong dream of representing my country and wearing a USA singlet in a race, as Brian and I were selected to race the World Trail Running Championships for the USA this summer.  It was literally the fulfillment of years of dreaming to get selected for a national team, and an unimaginable joy to share it with Brian also.  Better yet, we both competed well in the race.  This also gave us the opportunity to travel to England, where we ran and camped among the sheep, drove on the wrong side of the road, and got a taste of fell running through the mountains. 

(Proudly representing the USA)

 

Likely what has made Brian the happiest this year is the adoption of our cat.  She is a little 7-pound princess, but has certainly captivated our attention and made us feel like a family.  Since she really likes to snuggle, at times it is challenging to leave her for a run when she's spooning with me.  However, no matter how bad anything gets, a few nose bumps from her and life is much better.

(Our super cute kitty cat)

On the tough side, I lost a close life-long friend to cancer this past spring.  I've known Pete since we were freshman in high school, and we've been there for each other throughout the years since then - I considered him my security blanket since he was always there when I needed a friend.  He was a constant supporter of my running adventures, so his enthusiasm for my racing was certainly missed this year.  He would have been so proud to know that I pulled on a USA singlet this summer, he died just before I got the team selection.

(Amy and Pete, at Houston Marathon in 2006)

 

And then to the craziness this fall, I honestly don't know what to do other than shake my head and hope I don't have another fall like this.  Brian and I returned from a run in October to find my car crushed by a fallen tree - my car was ultimately totaled.  Brian came home one day to find that someone had entered our house illegally...and cleaned the first floor!  I think the cleaning lady was intended for our neighbor's house, but she got as far as our living room before she realized it was the wrong house.  Breaking and cleaning...it's the new crime wave in our little town.  Then, there was the hypothermic, close-to-death guy that me and my running group found along a run and helped to safety.  Just a crazy fall!

(Little Brian in the big tree, in Cascade Mountains)

 

Moving forward to 2014, Brian and I hope for many adventures, sharing miles with friends, and hopefully a few travels to new trails.  Brian's excited to have been named to the Patagonia Ultrarunning Team for 2014, and I am pleased to again be named to Team Inov8 for the 5th year.

(Brian being held up by the strong winds on Snowdonia)