It's been over a week since the triathlon. All things considered, I did great. I woke up at 2:45 AM, and was in Manhattan by 4:15, in a car service with my Team in Training mentor, speeding past bar hoppers who had just completed their own extreme event -- closing down a bar. By 4:45, I had set up all my gear in the transition area, and was walking the mile to the swim start. It was raining out, which I was ready for, but had never actually practiced in. After weeks of near 100 degree weather, I had never imagined I would actually be chilly the morning of the race. And then the race got delayed. A car flipped on 158th Street, and spread debris and oil across the West Side Highway, where we were about to ride. So we waited, indefinitely (but it turns out to be only about 40 minutes I think) for the race to start. Eventually it did -- and soon enough it was my turn to jump into the Hudson. At the beginning of the season I was excited to swim in the Hudson. By the end, it had become, in my mind, something to endure. Physically I was ready for it, but psychologically it had become tough to look forward to swimming in the same water that had just recovered from a raw sewage leak. The water had been deemed "adequate for safety" so I just decided to trust that New York City did not want a giant public health crisis on its hands, and jump in. And you know what? The water was a little nasty. I've swum in a lot of water, and this isn't what I would call crystal clear. But I had the current with me, and I had trained to swim in open water, and I swam nice and easy and came out the other side.
After I had run to transition, taken off my wetsuit, and changed into biking shoes, I headed out for 24 miles on the open road. This turned out to be my favorite part of the triathlon. It was still raining, so I thought I'd be a little slower than usual, but I wasn't. Mostly though, I loved riding past where my dad grew up, and then where Josh grew up. I loved riding across the Henry Hudson Bridge, and past where my friends Jerry and Leslie and Daniel and Aaron live. Also, I felt good on the bike. Again, I had trained for it, and I was in charge of the race.
75 minutes later, I was pulling off my bike shoes and pulling on my running shoes. Even though I knew the run would be hard for me, I also knew that if I had to, I could just walk it, and that I would, for sure, finish the race. And in fact, as soon as I started to run, my left calf cramped up, and it stayed that was for 4 miles. So every couple of minutes, I had to stop, stretch, and walk. Run, stretch, run, walk, stretch, run, walk, stretch, run, walk. It's a slow way to run a triathlon, but it was my way. About 2 miles in, I came upon my friends -- Abigail, Ariel, Josh, Mickey, and Nina -- singing to me on the sidelines, and handing me over some ice cold electrolyte drink. Another mile in, my leg really started to hurt. Another mile in, and I was still running, but wasn't sure how, and then all of a sudden my leg eased up, and I was able to run the rest of the way in. By then the sun had come out, and it was heating up, and I was finally feeling depleted -- the way I imagined one should feel near the end of a triathlon -- and so I just put my mind into focus and took it home. 1.5K swim, 40K cycle, 10K run. I did it. I even enjoyed parts of it (the biking parts) and could imagine that if I were doing this in a more pristine environment, I would also enjoy the swim, and if I didn't have muscle issues on my messed-up leg, I could enjoy the run as well. This was the big discovery -- that the actual race felt like it had the potential to be enjoyable. I did not actually imagine that while I was still training. As soon as I crossed the finish line, I was given an ice cold towel, and someone took off my timing chip, and then I wandered into the Athlete Recovery Zone, where they had fruit and Muscle Milk, and the bags we had given them at the start of the race. I missed the Team in Training tent entirely -- never saw it, even though I later found out it was somewhere just after the finish line.
And just like that, my race was over. I went out and waited for my friends, who had missed my finish because we all estimated my time would be slower than it actually was, and we walked over the JCC (where I work) and I got a nice hot shower before going back down to pick up my bike and head home. At the beginning of the race, one of my coaches said to me, "Race hard!" -- but I told myself, "Race easy." I knew that the most important thing for me was to keep my muscles relaxed -- and the fact that it got better as I went instead of worse was a confirmation for me that my instinct was right.
Thank you for all your support. Race easy.
Well, I had my final group training session Saturday morning. My final morning of waking up early (5 AM) to go train. We went to the site of the triathlon -- and ran to the swim start, and to the transition area, and to the bike start, and up the alarmingly steep hill we will ride and then run up as we come out of the transition area. Despite all the ailments that have plagued me this season, I have trained incredibly diligently, and become quite strong, and have a plan to work around my sore foot, my cartilegeless knee, and my compromised lungs. Despite the recent raw sewage leak in the Hudson when a wastewater treatment plant in Harlem caught fire (it's always something) it has been cleared for swimming. So it looks like I don't have any excuses left, and I'm going to be getting up at 3 AM next Sunday to do this thing.
Having never tried something like this before, I didn't know how much your support and encouragement was going to mean. It means the world. It has made the difference between getting up in the morning and staying in bed. And because I know that each of you donated because you had a personal connection to someone with a blood cancer -- for many of you that was my mom -- I've been able to push past my own fears and discomforts. Thank you so much.
Starting today I get to taper. I still will run, bike and swim this week, but not very much -- and balanced out with plenty of stretching and resting and good eating. As the end of the week nears, I will be going to bed earlier and earlier so I can get enough sleep to wake up early enough to eat breakfast and get to the Upper West Side by 4 AM. Crazy, right? (It just occurred to me that sleeping on the Upper West Side might be something to consider. Do you think it's too late to get a pied a terre?)
Thank you. Thank you for sending me notes, for making donations, for lending me bikes, for advising me about bras, for telling me my legs look great, for sharing your own stories about you or your close people with blood cancer, and for understanding when I said, again and again, "I'm sorry, I can't. I have to get go to practice."
I've met my fundraising goal, so I don't need more donations. But if you haven't given and it would be meaningful to you, here's the link, one final time.
http://pages.teamintraining.org/nyc/nyctri11/jlevison
Thank you for all your support.
xo Jenny
I've been in training for eight weeks now! The highlights: my swimming (which most of you know is my strong suit) is getting better and better. I learned how to do a special two-beat kick, which saves a lot of breath and energy at the start of a long race. I used it when I did a qualifying swim for a different open water swim, and I soared to a 35-minute mile without even getting out of breath.
My wonderful friend Kara shipped me her Bianchi bike across the country!!! It is now sitting in a box in a local bike store, and on Saturday I am going to go work with the owner/bike technician to put it together. I spent my first weeks riding on my little folding bike, and just, honestly, feeling sorry for myself. Then my other wonderful friend Mich lent me her Fuji, and I've been keeping up with my teammates, riding loops around Prospect Park.
Running ... well, running is another story. I started out feeling strong, running a slow but steady 30 minutes, increased over some weeks to 40. A couple weeks ago, I was running 5K with no problem. But then I developed a problem. My left foot and calf keep cramping up now when I run. (That's the leg I've had lots of operations on.) The last couple of weeks we've been doing hill training, which is to say we run up a hill, down the same hill, up the hill, and down -- as many times as we can in about 30 minutes. Yesterday I had to stop in the middle, but I finally got some good advice and exercises from one of the assistant coaches, and from one of the other triathletes who is also a physical therapist. Among other things, I am now officially exempt from running hills until my foot stops hurting. Back to the flats, the treadmill, or the deep water running for me.
It's a lot, right? I try to run 2x week, swim 2x week, and cycle 2x week, but I usually end up skipping one of those and stretching instead, because I think it's probably just as important for me.
Since I started training, the 4-year-old grandson of a very close friend developed lymphoma. I have never met him, but he sounds amazing. I have been reading the CarePages blog his parents are writing and it also sounds like his treatment is tough -- on him and the whole family. And I want it to work. I know it's possible that it can -- the mom of one of my oldest friends has just been deemed cancer-free after a lengthy treatment, following an initial diagnosis of Stage 4 Leukemia!
What makes that possible? Research and research and research and research. Made possible, in part, by your help.
Thank you for supporting my Team In Training event for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS). Your help and encouragement will get me to the finish line. But more importantly, you are helping to accelerate finding cures for leukemia, lymphoma and myeloma and bring increased hope to the patients and families who are on the front lines of the battle against these blood cancers.
Can you believe I'm doing a triathlon? I know, me neither!
Welcome to my Team In Training home page! I'm training to swim, bike, and swim in the Nautica New York City Triathlon on August 7 as a member of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's (LLS) Team In Training. I am raising funds to help stop leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin lymphoma and myeloma from taking more lives.
I am training for this Triathlon in honor of everyone who has been affected by blood cancers. My mother, Ann Ruth Simons Levison (who said she hated exercise for most of her life, but loved to swim, dance, walk in the woods, and garden, so just don't call it exercise) died on April 15, 2008 after being sick with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma for almost a year. I've also got a good friend who's had a blood cancer for many years, and is doing very well because of experimental drug treatments. My close people, and others who I don't even know, are part of my team, and we need your support to cross the ultimate finish line -- a cure!
Please make a donation to support my participation in Team In Training. All the money goes to LLS -- about 75% goes directly for cancer research and education, and about 25% goes back into the program -- for the training and fundraising.
Also, I'll welcome your creative moral support. Mark August 7 in your calendar, and if you can get up early to cheer me on, I have a feeling it will make a huge difference. The year my mother was sick, my longest-in-life friend Claire ran the Boston Marathon with Team in Training, and my mom made a sign that she gave to a friend to put up along the race route. Claire said it was one of the highlights of her race.
A word about me: I injured my knee playing basketball when I was 15, and have had 8 operations on it. I've also got a couple messed-up discs in my back, so I'm a little nervous about my capacity to do this. But I have always wanted to complete a triathlon, and I am planning on the fact that with slow, skilled training (which Team in Training is renowned for) and a steady supply of ice and Advil -- I will be able to.
It's a 1.5 K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run. I am not too worried about the swim, I think I'll be slow but steady on the bike, and if my knee can withstand the training for the run, I feel pretty confident about being able to complete the race. Also, just so you know, I cry at inspirational sporting events, so if I'm a little weepy as I cross the finish line, just go with it.
Be sure to check back frequently to see my progress, and thank you for your support!
Jenny
PS. Here's a sultry photo of my mom in the 1970s, looking just a little bit (and by that I mean exactly) like I look now.
Pat, Geof, Nathan an... | $250.00 |
Tracy Hewat | $100.00 |
Claire, Izza, Camill... | $100.00 |
harold and ilyse lev... | $100.00 |
Michele & Steve ... | $100.00 |
Andrea Fincke | $100.00 |
Ken Green | $100.00 |
Jesse Green & An... | $100.00 |
Joshua Waletzky | $100.00 |
Jenny Levison | $80.00 |
Michelle Kay | $72.00 |
Barbara Kemp | $71.00 |
Dana Schneider | $54.00 |
Linda Haney | $50.00 |
Tayve Neese | $50.00 |
Barbara Perlov | $50.00 |
Colin Durrant | $50.00 |
Robin Wolfson | $50.00 |
Pam Durrant | $50.00 |
Kara/Alex Goldhamer/... | $50.00 |
Sue and Worth Robbin... | $50.00 |
Dyane Smith | $50.00 |
Ian Durrant | $50.00 |
John Yates | $50.00 |
Bernadine Kirkland | $50.00 |
Ken Eisen | $50.00 |
Martha Case Chabinsk... | $50.00 |
Abigail Miller | $36.00 |
Rimma Ashkinadze | $36.00 |
Mickey Lambert | $34.00 |
Brad and Judy Snow | $25.00 |
DAVID LEVIN | $25.00 |
Bria Sanborn | $25.00 |
Carol Weliky | $25.00 |
Robin Wolfson | $25.00 |
Michelle Tattenbaum | $25.00 |
Jessica Niggemann | $25.00 |
susan remmers | $25.00 |
Amy Dery | $25.00 |
Linda Haney | $25.00 |
Amy Schutzer | $25.00 |
Beth Shulman | $25.00 |
Nettie Spiwack | $25.00 |
Mark LaPointe | $25.00 |
Alexandra evans | $25.00 |
Catherine Ramsey | $25.00 |
Leigh Simons | $25.00 |
Katharine Riker | $25.00 |
Deborah Stewart | $25.00 |
Lynn cohen | $25.00 |
Rupert and Scott | $20.00 |
Carol Godfrey | $15.00 |
M Felix Endara | $15.00 |
Jill Maxwell | $10.00 |
Kronda Adair | $10.00 |
Karen & Andy Jac... | |
Pam & Ethan | |
Steve & Julie |
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The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society® (LLS) is a global leader in the fight against cancer. The LLS mission: Cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease and myeloma, and improve the quality of life of patients and their families. LLS funds lifesaving blood cancer research around the world, provides free information and support services, and is the voice for all blood cancer patients seeking access to quality, affordable, coordinated care. The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is a 501(c)(3) organization, and all monetary donations are tax deductible to the fullest extent allowed by tax laws. Please check with your financial advisor if you have more questions.