"D" is for "Data." And also for "Duh."

Since I keep so much data on my skating workouts and races, I figured it was time to use some of it.  In my previous post I explained how last year I had been somewhat, um, inconsistent in completing my workouts and in following the general plan for the season.  So I got to wondering: just how much did I actually skip or modify my workouts last year, compared to more successful years?

Well, when you've got five,  two-inch binders of data covering every workout from the past eight years...that's an easy question to answer.  So I grabbed my data notebooks, a pencil, and a couple sheets of scratch paper, and did a little low-tech data mining.

I decided to look at three years:  2007-8, which was a very successful year for me and, as the first year TieGuy coached me, was a year I was very consistent in doing as I was told ; 2011-12, in which I had some thyroid issues during the summer that messed up some workouts but that ultimately (helped on by my technical improvements) was a successful season; and 2012-13, when I used the same workout plan as 2011-12 but in which thyroid and other issues combined to have me be very inconsistent in workouts and to create the most dreadful long track season I've had in living memory.

To compare the season,  I first simply counted the number of "hard" workouts that had been planned for each year (that is, I didn't include recovery workouts, yoga, etc.).  These numbers were fairly consistent across the three years: 2007-8 had 117; 2011-12 and 2012-13 both had 122.

Then, I counted the number of workouts I modified (and by "modified" I mean "made easier;" believe me, I never modified a workout to make it harder!) and the number I skipped altogether.

These numbers were very interesting.

In 2007-8, I modified just 12% of the workouts (actually, Coach TieGuy modified them for me, by telling me to stop when it looked like I'd be tipping over soon).  I skipped just 4 workouts that season--3% of the total.  These were due to illness or injury; in that year, if we were rained out of a skating workout TieGuy would simply come up with a comparable dryland workout for me.

In 2011-12, by contrast, I modified 32% of the workouts, mostly summer ones when my thyroid was misbehaving and I was struggling to complete workouts. I skipped 7 workouts--5% of the total.  Some of these were rain-outs that I didn't replace with dryland; some were "I just don't feel up to it."

2012-13 is where it really gets interesting.  Last year, I modified 60% of the workouts, and skipped 15 workouts completely; 13% of the total number of workouts.  That means that for 73% of all my workouts last year, I either made them easier or skipped them completely.

Turns out that if you don't skate the workouts, you don't experience the results.

Duh.

So it looks as though my goal of completing the dryland and skating workouts as written for the 2007-8 season is a valid one.  And if I can do it, it will be interesting, next March, to compare the results I achieved with this workout program as a 50-year-old, compared to what I achieved back in 07-08 as a 44-year-old.

Now What--Part II

The previous post was a list of my "Product Goals" for next season; the times that, if everything goes well, I hope to achieve.  However, since my hypothyroidism and heart arrhythmia have often dictated that everything not go well, I also have some "Process Goals"--basically, I have goals for how I work towards my time goals, as well as having goals for what I want to achieve with my times.  I may not be able to control the outcome, but I should have quite a bit to say about the input!

So, here are my Process Goals:

• Execute a good dryland season before the oval opens again May 6 (for inlining)
• Be consistent with warm up and cool down routines
• Do core work and yoga at least twice a week
• Follow the workout plan once the ice season opens

Now, these might seem like just common sense, and indeed they are.  However, each bullet point above comes as a direct result of me screwing up that aspect of training last year:

• Execute a good dryland season before the oval opens again May 6 (for inlining) (last season I got sick just as dryland started and then, just when I was feeling better, dropped a slideboard on my foot.  I used both of these as excuses to do very little dryland last spring).
• Be consistent with warm up and cool down routines (I've always been perfunctory about warmup and cooldown and, while I was able to get away with this in my early to mid-forties, skipping warmup and cooldown is not a good idea for someone who will be turning 50 next fall).
• Do core work and yoga at least twice a week (Again, I've always been bad about doing anything that I don't enjoy, which in this case means "anything but actually skating."  But again, core strength and flexibility become more important as one ages.  Which, dammit, I seem to be doing).
• Follow the workout plan as written once the ice season opens (Dryland started poorly last season (see first bullet point), and then once I started skating my thyroid tanked again.  Med adjustments continued all summer and into the middle of November, which meant that I skated many workouts over- or under-medicated.  Skating with high or low thyroid levels sucks and, in the case of high, may even be dangerous.  So I quit or skipped or modified an awful lot of workouts last summer and fall, which led to being unfit to complete the ice workouts as written once winter rolled around.  In addition, I really wanted to skate with behind my friends last year, so I ended up doing many workouts with them.  Often these workouts were different from what I had planned for the day, but this wouldn't have been a problem if I had compensated for it by moving workouts around; just because I did Fast Tuesday with the fast guys didn't mean that I couldn't move my Tuesday endurance workout to Thursday.  However, usually I ended up just skipping the endurance workout that week, with predictable results.)

So I have Process Goals, and I also have a plan for how to make achieving them more likely.

First, I am going to use a different workout plan this year.  Last year, and the year before, I used the workouts Coach TieGuy had written for me for the 2011-12 season.  These are great workouts and Coach TieGuy is good at periodizing workout plans and understands the needs of the um, mature athlete, so this should have worked fine.  Problem is, the workouts are pretty high volume and are based on a year-to-year increase in my fitness and ability to complete high volume workouts.  Since I skipped or modified a lot of workouts last year, I don't think my fitness is at a level that would allow me to be successful with using the 2011-12 workout plans.  And I am not to be trusted when it comes to deciding that I need to reduce or modify a workout.  So, (with TieGuy's seal of approval), I plan to use the workouts from 2007-8, which was my first full season with TieGuy.  The workouts are lower volume than what I had worked up to after a couple years of TieGuy's coaching, and I think I can complete most of them as written.  Oh, and 2007-8 was a fantastic season for me (producing my 8:16 5K PB), so clearly the workouts were not too easy to produce results.

Second, I have a plan for making the dryland and other "non skating" workouts more fun.  Mel and Sprinter Boy want to do dryland as a group this spring, which sounds like a great idea to me.  We'll also incorporate some core and yoga workouts into the dryland, as well as consistently warming up and cooling down.  My only issue here will be that I'll need to be steadfast about sticking to the dryland as written by TieGuy; Mel and Sprinter Boy are 20 and 15 years younger than I am, and are capable of doing much more high-intensity plyometric-type stuff without injury than I am.  I foresee myself using the line "Are you crazy?  I'm not doing that!  I'm old enough to be your mother!" many times next dryland season.  Still, it will really be fun to share the misery of dryland!

So I think I'm ready...bring on the April 8 and the 2013-14 season!

A little dryland flashback

Now What?

Or, more accurately, "what next?"

As in, "what's up for next season?"

I'm exactly 12 days into what will be a 4-week break between the (extremely forgettable) 2012-13 season and the (I really, really hope) marvelous 2013-14 season.  I've been thinking a lot about last season, next season, the off season, and even the current "season," which is allegedly spring, although the 7 degrees I woke up to this morning makes that a bit hard to believe.  But I digress (don't I always?).  The point is, I do have some plans and goals for the next season...and even for the off season.

First things first: the off season.  This is supposed to be a time of recovery, rest, and repair--so that's what I'm doing.  My main goal for the "rest weeks" is to emerge on April 8--my official "Day One" of the 2013-14 season--with a completely recovered hamstring.  My left hammie has been sore since early December.  Not "I can't skate at all" sore, just "quit bugging me" sore.  I'd really like it to shut up before next season.  So "recover" is tops on my off season list.

I was hoping that the "off month" could also be a bit about "reduce."  My "fat pants" are still getting a workout, and I'd really like to be a bit smaller and fitter for next season.  So last week I decided to try a bit of dietary restriction--low carb, which is what I've used successfully in the past, but which is tricky to do while working out hard.  Four weeks off seemed like the perfect time to try for a little size reduction.

Except that I failed to calculate the effect of dietary restrictions on an already-cranky mood-swing-riddled teacher who is 1.5 weeks from spring break. By yesterday noon I decided that it was really in my best interest--as well as in the best interest of anyone in my immediate vicinity--if I would take one for the team and go eat a cookie.  Or three.

So I did.

So I may not be any lighter when the season starts--but at least I'll still be sane, happy, married, and employed.  (Although I'm not giving up on dieting quite yet; maybe I can deal with some crankiness over the generally-relaxing week of spring break, when only hubby and dog are in danger and I can do fun stuff to take my mind off my PopTart-free status.)

But back to the actual skating season.  I have goals for 2013-14 season.  Since I have a couple health issues (you may have heard me mention them once or, oh, a hundred times) that can unpredictably affect my training and racing, I decided to have both Product and Process goals.  That way, if my hypothyroidism and heart arrhythmia decide to misbehave again and mess up my ability to achieve my time goals, I can still feel a sense of accomplishment by at least executing my workouts correctly and improving my technique.

Here are my Product (time) goals:

• Skate a sub 4:40 3K.  My 3K PB, from the 2011 Masters Allround World Championships in Calgary in February of 2011, is 4:42.25.  I didn't skate a 3K on fast ice in the 2011-12 season, and the one I did last year in Salt Lake, at the Masters Camp, was dismal at 5:15...but I'd still like to think that I have a four-thirty-something in me--especially since my 4:42 was pre-technique improvement.  I'd likely need to go to Calgary to try for this goal, since my Salt Lake City Curse, while it certainly doesn't preclude good races there, definitely makes me reluctant to base my PB hopes on racing there.
• Improve my Fast Ice 5K PB.  I skated an 8:16.0 at the US Championships in Salt Lake City in 2007 (my last good meet there before The Curse set in), in my second 5K ever.  I've tried many times to best this, but the only time I came close was in...2009?...when I skated roughly the same time in Calgary.  I say "roughly the same time" because I was disqualified for forgetting to change lanes, so although I skated the entire race I never got an official time. Again, this PB is way pre-technique improvement, so I think there's hope.
• Skate a sub-18:00 10K.  I had a blast in my first ever 10K, and skated an 18:14.13.  I think if I have someone giving me lap times, and I train a bit more for my second 10K than I did for my first, I should  have a shot at this.

Next post (because this is getting long and I want to go sit on the couch and digest my PopTart):  Process Goals.  Stay tuned!

2012-13 Season Recap

I think I finally have enough energy to recap the 2012-13 long track season.  Unfortunately, the energy level fell just short of what was needed to come up with a clever post title; all I could think of was variations of "well, that sucked," which, while not particularly clever, does tell you all you need to know about the 2012-13 season.

Well, almost all.  There were a couple high points.  But mostly low.  Way low.  So, to cut to the chase, here are the highs and lows of the season:

•  I was  SLOW.  I only got one Personal Best this year, versus last year's 7. And lest you think that last year's 7 PB's would logically preclude a large number of PB's this year, let me move on to point #2...
• When I say I was slow, I don't just mean "minimal PB's" slow.  I mean really slow.  As in "I haven't skated a 1500 this slow in 10 years."  As in "I don't know how I got those PB's last year because I can't come anywhere near those times now." 
• The Salt Lake City Epic Fail curse continued, in even more epic fashion.  At least in the past my "fail" has been slow races; this year I couldn't even compete in 3 of the 5 races.
• The thyroid issues continued, as did the PVC's.

Those are the lows.  In terms of performance, there were two high points:

• Roseville 500 meter PB, 48.59.  I still don't know where this time came from; I never expected, ever, to skate a 48 second 500 in Roseville, let alone skate it in a year where nothing else went right.  
• The 10K.  Since it was my first, of course it was a PB--but it was 45 seconds faster than my overly-optimistic "gosh I hope I can achieve this time if everything goes right" time goal.  So either I'm better at 10K's than I expected, or I really suck at setting goal times.  Either way, it was fun.

And in terms of non-performance factors, there were some positives.  

• I had a blast skating with behind some great skaters.  Mel, Sprinter Boy, and Hawkeye boy were incredibly supportive and patient with my efforts to do workouts with them, and had great technical advice for me.  Thanks, guys!
• I started a Masters Speedskating Club, the Minnesota Masters Speedskating Club. (Catchy name, no?).  I don't know where it will go, but I want to do whatever I can to support/promote masters skating in MN.  On that note, if you haven't before, check out our website (and a HUGE thank you to Inliner Boy for running the website!)
• In keeping with the bullet point above, I took the Level I speedskating coaching course this winter.  I have no desire to coach kids, but I'd love to be able to provide some help to newer masters skaters.
• Since my skating sucked I had to focus on something other than "getting a really good time" at meets.  So instead of getting a good time, I focused on having a good time; enjoying the experience, enjoying spending time with my friends, celebrating others' success. And for the most part, I was able to enjoy the meets (well, with the exception of that Saturday night in Salt Lake City--it's hard to enjoy watching the room spin and trying not to throw up (hmm, when I phrase it that way it sounds like I had a much wilder time in Salt Lake than I did!)).
• My technique seems to be continuing to improve, and as a bonus, some really good photographers caught some of my better moments and I now have some nice skating pictures.  I'll leave you with another one of those, from the Roseville American Cup.

I like this picture because my recovery leg is (for once) in the right position.
Which means it looks like it's not there from the knee down.

Marathon O'Doom

(See, the marathon yesterday was in the Dome, and it's close to St. Patrick's Day, and the race didn't go well...yeah, you're right, if I have to explain it it's not funny...)

As I already gave away in italics, yesterday's RollerDome marathon did not go well.  Actually, given how the rest of the season has gone, and given my lack of marathon-specific preparation, I'm not surprised.  And I wasn't doing it anticipating getting a blazing fast time anyway (I know better than that); it's just that this race is the last Dome marathon ever, and since I did the first one, back in (I believe) 2005, I felt it was only right to close the circle (oval?) on Dome racing by doing the last one as well.

Saturday was the perfect day for an indoor inline marathon: 35 degrees and raining.

A lovely Minnesota late-winter day

When I arrived at 11:30, the second wave of the marathon was entering its final hour.  There were spectators spectating...

See the blurry skaters going by?

...timing chips to be handed out...

You can see the doors into the stadium on the left

...and teams beginning to prepare for the Team Time Trial at 1:30.

A few fellow Max Muscle folks

The first thing I did when I entered the Dome was to check out the results from the Pro race, held earlier in the morning.  My friend and fellow long-track skater Melissa had competed in the Pro women's class, and I noted with satisfaction that she had won the event for the women (go Mel!), and a local Long Track Fast Guy (who I had watched grow up at the John Rose Oval since he started skating at about age 10), Paul Dyrud, had won the men's Pro race.

"Good," I said, "a couple of long-trackers won the Pro events."

A Max Muscle teammate who had also been perusing the results turned to look at me in confusion.

"Lawn Tractors?" she said, "what do you mean, 'lawn tractors?'"

Clearly, we have a ways to go in integrating inline with long track!

So far, race day was starting off well.  I was still feeling a little residual dizziness from my night of horror in Salt Lake City, but it had greatly improved during the day Friday and I didn't really expect it to be a problem in the race.  Due to my "the oval is closed" week of almost no skating or working out, my legs were feeling good.  And I had a great team to skate with: "I've Only Skated About 3 Times This Year and Yet I Will Kick Your Butts," who you met back in this post; "Fast Guy," who you met here; and Machine 1 (who I had skated with before) and Machine 2, (who I hadn't).  

As we milled around waiting for our race to start, I filled my teammates (we were designated "Max Muscle 3," to differentiate us from the other two--faster--Max Muscle teams) in on the plan.  In the Team Time Trial format, teams must start with 5 skaters but only 4 are counted at the finish.  Therefore, one skater from each team can drop out without penalty. This, I told my teammates, was likely my destiny.  And despite their protests that we'd agreed on a "no drop" skate, I insisted that they keep the option open.  

I'm still not sure whether I was just being realistic, or whether I doomed myself to a mental meltdown mid-race by my complete lack of confidence in myself pre-race.

Finally, it was time to start.  The 10 Time Trial teams were sent off at 15-second intervals in a randomly determined order; we started seventh.  After the start, it was just a matter of skating 70 times around the oval concourse.  Our plan was to do roughly 75-second laps, which would put us at a final time of around 1:25.  Since I had skated the North Shore Inline Marathon in 1:26 last September, this should theoretically be a reasonable time for me--but still, I had my doubts.

We set off with Machine 1--deemed most likely to not get over-excited and throw down some early laps that would leave us all gasping for breath--in the lead.  And he lived up to our expectation; after a "we're just getting rolling" lap of 82 seconds, he started turning in steady 73's.  And Machine 2, when he took his turn four laps or so later, proved just as steady (and, being nice and tall, provided a fine draft for me, who was lucky enough to be behind him in the paceline).  Then it was my turn, and then I've Only's turn; we both kept it at 73's, although we each only pulled two laps to the guys' four or five.

And then it was Fast Guy's turn.  And, true to his name--and despite being in the 60-plus age class--he succumbed to youthful  enthusiasm and turned in a 68 for his first lap.  Which led to us scrambling to catch up, and shouting dire threats if he didn't slow down and let the young 'uns keep up.  (I'm pretty sure that at one point, when he still wasn't slowing, I yelled something about needing an electronic collar for him so we could give him a taste of "Dance, mailman, dance" ala the old TV show "Cheers."  Sometimes my desire to be a smartass overcomes my need to save my breath for skating.)

And that's how the race went for the first 30 laps or so.  At first it was a bit tricky because there were still a couple "solo" skaters finishing their marathon; they kept to the right, and we were frequently passed on the left by two or more teams in quick succession and sometimes were also passing another team and a solo skater while simultaneously being passed; but eventually, the solo skaters finished, the teams sorted themselves out, and we were able to focus on skating.  Here we are, enjoying a nice unpopulated stretch of race course:

Yes, that's me at the back of the paceline, rockin' my dorky skating glasses.

Up to about 30 laps, I was feeling OK.  The first couple laps the wall seemed to be going by awfully fast, which I attributed to my dizziness issues.  Once that settled down, though, I was able to maintain the pace with what felt like an appropriate and sustainable amount of effort.  And, due to Coach TieGuy and Sprinter Boy both having mentioned that I need to relax when I skate (my skating style is not referred to as "all force no grace" for nothing), I was trying very hard to stay relaxed and efficient while skating (is "trying hard to relax" an oxymoron?).

And for 30 laps, it seemed to work.  I was keeping up, doing my (short) pulls at a reasonable pace, and feeling OK.

And then things went downhill.  I still really don't know if it was mostly physical or mostly mental.  True, I did start to get PVC's at around this time (Mel was unfortunate enough to be watching the race from the exact place where I felt the first PVC, and thus got to witness my verbal opinion of my heart arrhythmia starting.  Oops.).  And along with the PVCs came the familiar chest pain, which I had been feeling very frequently throughout the week and which my doctor is unconcerned about but which nonetheless makes me a teensy bit nervous when it's happening when I'm only halfway through a 26-mile race.

So somewhere around lap 35 the doubts started...Maybe I can't keep this up.  I'm really tired.  Damn PVC's are making this harder than it should be.  Maybe I need to drop out.

And once the doubts start, it's all over.  At that point you can't figure out whether you truly can't do it anymore, or just think you can't--and it really doesn't matter.  Because if you think you can't...you can't.

So when my team pulled into the mandatory water stop at 40 laps, I gulped a cup of water and then explained my situation.  I'd do my best to keep up but if I got too tired I'd let the skaters go in front of me as they rotated off the front; that way, if I got dropped, I wouldn't gap anyone else from the pack and force them to sprint to catch back up.

My kind teammates protested, but in the end that's what we did.  Machines 1 and 2 pulled their nice consistent laps, then I pulled--one lap--and then I've Only and Fast Guy (who still was strong enough that we needed to yell him back to a more reasonable pace) took their pulls.  And when Fast Guy finished his pull and drifted back, I knew it was time.  For the past few laps I had been telling myself "just one more lap; just keep it up for one more lap"--but now I didn't think there were anymore "one more laps" in me.

"Get in front of me, get in front of me," I yelled gasped, dropping back slightly and gesturing vigorously in front of me to be sure he got the message.  I didn't think I could maintain the pace much longer, and wanted to be sure I didn't peel him off the back with me when I slowed.

So Fast Guy eased into the paceline in front of me, and within a half lap I was done.  I think I made it just under 50 of the 70 laps.

I finished the lap back to the spectator zone standing up and barely moving.  By the time I got to the line of people cheering the still-racing teams, I was feeling dizzy and needed to hijack a spectator's chair.  I've never felt so lousy after a marathon (or two-thirds of a marathon), and I spent the next 10 minutes or so just sitting, trying to recover and occasionally mustering the energy to cheer my teammates as they went by.

My team finished in 1:27, eighth out of the 10 teams.  They did a great job maintaining their pace; I timed a couple of their final laps at 75 seconds, right on our target pace. I felt bad for abandoning them, but would have felt worse if I'd stayed because the way I was feeling, we'd likely still be skating.

Here we are, post race:

I've Only, Machine 2, Fast Guy, Me, Machine 1

(this pic and the racing one are courtesy of I've Only)

And so the skating season has ended. I'll have to do a season recap post, when I can find a way to coherently express the hideousness that was the 2012-13 season.  In the meantime, I'll leave you with a photo of the final Metrodome Inline Marathon t-shirt (I'm glad it doesn't say "finisher" on it anywhere, because compulsive honesty would probably compel me to grab a Sharpie and scribble "2/3" on it).

Turns Out Its NOT the Altitude...

...that spun my world around in Salt Lake City last weekend. I figured that out when, after 2 days here in nice sea-level Minnesota, I was still lightheaded and experiencing moments of vertigo (thankfully mild) when I turned my head. So I went to the doctor today and he diagnosed labrynthitis--an infection (usually viral) or inflammation of the inner ear.  When I Googled it, the symptoms fit perfectly with what I experienced.  And the good news is that it will go away on its own; the bad news is that it will take another week or two.  Damn.

On the plus side, I'm not too dizzy to inline skate.  I tried it briefly at the Dome on Wednesday, to try skating with some of my Team Time Trial team and to see whether or not I'd get dizzy and tip over.  I was a little wobbly when I first got on the skates but then felt fine, and did 8 laps fairly comfortably with two other skaters from my team.  So I should be good to go for the marathon on Saturday, right?  I mean, it's just 70 laps...how hard can it be?

Or maybe I'm delusional as well as lightheaded.

Well. Now THAT Was an Epic Fail.

They say "If you're going to go, go big."

And so I did.  I had absolutely, hands down, no question, the worst race event of my life.  If you're going to fail, why not really fail?

This weekend's trip to Salt Lake City for the final race of the season--an American Cup event--did not get off to a good start.  Weighed down by thoughts of my poor season of racing, a week of bad workouts, and the dark shadow of my Salt Lake City Curse--as well as tired from a sleep-deprived week--I was apparently exhibiting less than my usual pre-trip enthusiasm as the Hubster drove me to the airport.

"You don't seem too excited about this," he ventured.

"Huh?  What?" I said, awakening from a doze.  "Oh, yeah...I'm not. I'm not expecting this to go well."

"You know, you can cancel your ticket."

Trust me when I say that midway through the drive to the airport is not the time to make this suggestion.

Not that I didn't consider the option for a second or two.  But then I reminded myself that it would be a logistical nightmare to cancel now, and besides, how bad could the weekend be?

Turns out I shouldn't have asked that.

The trip went fine, though, and by 8:00 Friday night I was sitting in my hotel room in Salt Lake City, sorting out my race gear for the following morning and trying to figure out just how early I'd have to get up to make the 7 am warmup time.  So far, so good.

And Saturday morning started off at least moderately well, too.  True, I was a bit surprised to find absolutely nobody at the oval when I arrived at 6:30; this was explained when I discovered that warmup actually started at 7:20 and not at 7:00.  The guy who was setting up the electronic timing device was kind enough to tell me to go ahead and skate anyway, which was nice because it allowed me to complete my plan.  Since I often travel to events the night before the races and therefore have no time to get used to the ice before race day, Coach TieGuy used to tell me to do a short warmup, get off the ice and do some jogging or stationary biking, and then get back on the ice.  This way, your brain and body think they've now had two "get accustomed to the ice" times rather than one.

So I completed my two warmups, and then wandered around aimlessly until it was time to do my 500.  And then I pretty much wandered aimlessly through my 500; it was slow, clumsy, and at 48.7 seconds, entirely forgettable.  To put this time in perspective, 48.7 seconds is an average Milwaukee 500--and Salt Lake should be at least a second a lap faster than Milwaukee. So I was not impressed--but not surprised--by my 500.

The "not impressed but not surprised" continued into the 1500.  My entry into my workout/race log for the 1500 consists of "horrible, tired, flat, blew every corner entry."  Not much more to say about the 1500, except that the time--2:27--was the same as my Roseville Personal Best, and slower than my Milwaukee PB.  Clearly not a good result.

Still, the day wasn't a total loss.  Sprinter Boy, who is the go-to guy for restaurant selection in the Minnesota Masters crowd, steered us to In N Out Burger  for dinner, and he and Hawkeye Boy and I carbo-loaded for the Sunday races with cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes.  Hey, I skated like crap--I might as well eat like crap, too.  And I must say I enjoyed the burger much more than I enjoyed the races.

Then I went back to my room to watch TV and surf the web a bit on my tablet...and that's when the trip suddenly unraveled.  As I looked up from the tablet to the TV, the room lurched and then began to spin. And every time I'd move or turn my head, the spinning, sliding sensation would increase.

What the....?

Thinking it might be a vision thing, from switching my view between electronic devices, I put the tablet away and concentrated on the TV.  Still, the room continued lurching, spinning, and swaying.  And when I went to my suitcase to get the charger for the tablet, I squatted down, turned my head to look into the corner of the suitcase...and promptly fell over.

Well. I was not amused.  In fact, I was beginning to get a bit freaked out.  There's a reason I've never gone on a cruise--I like my hotel rooms to stay stationary, and here I was in a perfectly nice landlocked room, feeling like I was on a small ship on the high seas.

So I called the Hubster, and then I called the nurse helpline, and then I called the Hubster back.  And then, in the midst of all these call, I suddenly began to feel very sick in addition to the dizziness.

"I"ll call you back," I said to the Hubster, and then I spent the next hour sitting in the bathroom waiting to see whether the In N Out burger would live up to its name.

Fortunately it didn't, and the nausea subsided as suddenly as it had come.  But the vertigo continued well past midnight, until finally, at 2 am, I was able to lie down without having flashbacks to that one night in college.  But I didn't sleep much, and by 5 am I had decided that I should probably scratch the Sunday races.  I had also decided that there was no way I would fly home Monday if I still felt like I was on a Tilt-a-Whirl, and maybe the Hubster could fly out and drive me home...

I had planned to get up when the alarm rang, call one of the other Minnesota skaters and ask them to scratch me from the races when they got to the oval, and then go back to bed.  When I was still wide awake at 6 am, though--and mostly non-dizzy--I decided to just get up and go to the oval.  I could scratch myself from the races, watch everyone else compete...and if the vertigo came back, I could find someone who could drive me to Urgent Care.  What more could I ask for?

So I went to the oval.  And as I walked in and started up the stairs to find someone who could cross my name off of the entry lists for 10k worth of races--a 1000, a 3k, and a 15-lap mass start--the oval sound system, in a moment of cruel irony, launched into the song that most reminds me of my best weekend of skating ever (it's Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine," if you must know).  Thanks...way to twist the knife!

After I removed myself from the start lists, I hunted down the EMT who was working the meet.  After listening to my symptoms and asking a few questions, he said that he thought my issue was...altitude sickness.

Really?  At 4200 feet?  Seriously?

Well, yes, he was serious.  He said he taught altitude sickness clinics, and my experience was not atypical.  Unfortunate, yes, but not atypical...and at least it isn't something I'll need to worry about recurring.

Unless, of course, I go back to Salt Lake and skate a race again sometime.  Looks like the Salt Lake Curse just added another component.

So I hung out at the oval all day and watched everyone race.  Mel, Sprinter Boy, and Hawkeye Boy all had good days, setting PB's and enjoying the fast ice.  In a way I wished I was racing...but the mild dizziness I experienced when I turned my head slightly, and the fatigue I felt when I walked halfway around the rink to the backstretch to give Sprinter and Hawkeye their lap times for the 5k, convinced me that I'd made the right decision.  I didn't feel relatively normal until later that evening, and I'm pretty sure that the way I felt would not have been helpful to racing...and vice versa.

So now, after a relatively uneventful trip home (if you don't count getting lost in the rental car parking lot.  Twice.), I need to spend some time taking stock of the previous season, and figuring out what I want to do differently next season.

Because I really want to avoid more weekends like this one.