dallas du

So remember the picture I posted after my DQ in Barbados?:

I managed to rectify that picture at my next race, in Dallas, TX. (Photo credit: Sugar & Spice Photography):

The moment wasn't quite what I had hoped, because the swim was cancelled due to a sewage leak. But! I'm certainly not complaining about my first ITU podium (except perhaps about the fake champagne, and the way it burns the eyes...).

In the duathlon format, we started with a little 5k juant:

Then rolled around on bikes for awhile:

And finished it off with a 2.5k sprint(ish):

I made a pretty significant error in this race (ER!) but held on for the podium spot (yay!) and was rewarded (and re-hydrated) with a little trip to the doping control station for my first-ever drug test.

Through all of this, I was cheered enthusiastically on my my wonderful parents. I had the pleasure of doing the same for them when they raced the next day!

Moral of this story is that every race brings lessons and things to improve upon--even when you make the podium.

As always, thanks to my coach, Zane Castro; Tri360; my parents; and all my other "gritty" supporters!

teachable moments in barbados

When I was a kid and did something stupid, or made a mistake, or something bad happened to me that I thought was the end of the world, my mom would either comfort me or lecture me (depending on the scenario) and then would say, “It’s just a teachable moment.”

Somehow, the knowledge that the “teachable moment” would somehow benefit me in the future was usually not that comforting, because at the time all I could see was how it did not benefit me in the present.

As I grew older and such occasions continued to arise, I remember starting to predict the verdict before my mom said it, rolling my eyes (either literally or within) and saying, “Yeah, yeah, it’s a ‘teachable moment’. I know.”

I especially remember the “I know” comments. Because that was biggest frustration with “teachable moments”--usually I did know it was going to be bad before it happened, or that I probably shouldn’t make the decision I was about to. But sometimes that’s how it goes, doesn’t it? In fact, I think for me, personally, most of my teachable moments come from things I really did know about beforehand, but either forgot in the moment or disregarded because, well, you know… It was more fun to disregard. Or too difficult not to. Or I forgot.

Last month, I went to Bridgetown, Barbados, for my second ITU race of the season. As I’m sure you know by now if you have been following my results, I ended with a big fat DSQ* beside my name, hiding the fact that I raced my way into second place with the fastest bike and run splits of the day.

It was one of those terrible moments that is made so much worse by how happy I felt immediately beforehand: I crossed the line, super excited to stand on my first ITU podium and spray champagne on someone, then heard the announcer say, “Incredibly, Schlabach had the fastest run of the day, even with a ten-second penalty.”

Of course, my first thought was, “@#$%!!!!”

That might have been my second and third thoughts as well.

Once the obscenity subsided, next came, “Dammit, a teachable moment.”

Teachable moments from Barbados, in no particular order:

1. When you get a penalty and don’t serve it, you get disqualified from the race. Furthermore, you don’t make any money from it; thus you don’t make up the money you spent to get to the race, and perhaps put into jeopardy your ability to race as much that season. You also don’t get any ITU points.
2. Don’t get so caught up in what you are doing next that you forget what you are doing now. (My penalty came because, when I got into T1, I saw a girl up the road and was so focused on getting to her that I grabbed my bike before I put my helmet on. Big no-no.
3. When you are at threshold effort, you go deaf, dumb, and mute. Even though I knew I got the penalty in T1, by the time I got to the run, I had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, the announcers talked about my penalty, but I didn’t hear a thing about that (though, somehow, I did hear the comments about how awesome I was running…) Literally, I didn’t even think of my penalty until I crossed the line and heard the aforementioned announcement. Frustratingly, after the race people kept asking me why I hadn’t served my penalty, as though I had chosen not to.
4. It’s really helpful to have support at a race, if for no other reason than that they can shout at you till you snap out of your deaf/dumb state and thus avoid doing something idiotic like forgetting to serve your penalty.
5. Even getting disqualified from a race doesn’t take away the fact that you did what you did in said race. Even though I didn’t get to stand on the podium this time, I know that I have the potential to do so.

All in all, I suppose I would rather have had a good performance and gotten DQed than to have had a terrible one and not gotten DQed. And I supposed I would rather get DQed at a relatively small race like Barbados than at a more important one later on. And, as with all teachable moments, despite my eye rolling and internal cursing and “I knows,” I did learn something important. And I’m betting that--even though I’m sure I will do tons of other stupid things, both in racing and in life--I won’t do that particular thing ever again.

I actually have pictures for you this time (thanks to Mark Harris and Andre Williams):

Bummer to not get to stand up here, but I had it from the men's winner that the champagne wasn't real anyways, so that numbed the blow a little... 

Lots of people to thank for this race: Anita Henry for covering my lodging; Grandpa Schlabach for his generous Christmas check that bought me my plane ticket; Tri360 for having my bike race-ready; and my coach, Zane, for having me race-ready.

Speaking of support, please help me to continue to race this season (see my last post for details)--and I will do my best to stop getting disqualified from races.

*A Note for Those Unfamiliar with ITU Racing: If you do something wrong in ITU racing, you receive a penalty which you have to serve during the race (usually during the run leg. This is different than in amateur racing, in which the officials just add some time onto your finishing time at the end of the race. In the ITU, the officials post the penalized athlete’s number on a board by the penalty box and it the the athlete’s responsibility to check the board and stop for her penalty. The officials are not allowed to flag the athlete down or verbally inform her of her penalty--although coaches/friends/fans may do so.

booster campaign

As those of you who follow triathlon news probably know, there were some last minute changes to the pro race fields this spring that put a wrench in the prospect of making ends meet as a pro triathlete this year--especially as a new pro.

What with the lack of non-draft Olympic races, I decided to just take the dive into racing mostly ITU this year, but it's going to be a little tough as I had counted on some domestic non-draft racing prize money to take the edge off.

All that being said, I could use a little boost (haha, pun intended) to be able to race as much as I need to (or at all) this season to gain experience in ITU racing.

Please consider supporting me by buying a t-shirt from my booster campaign. You can read more about the meaning behind the shirt on the campaign website, here. 

If you want to support me but don't want another shirt, you can also contribute to me directly via PayPal @ calah.schlabach.tri@gmail.com or email me for mailing info.

Thanks SO MUCH to those who have already purchased shirts and/or committed to selling extra shirts! And thanks to everyone who has supported me, whether financially or otherwise--thank you for helping to make me the person and athlete I am today. 

sarasota

Almost a month ago now, I, rather spontaneously, did my first race of the season. I had almost decided it wasn't worth writing a race report at this late date; however, just this morning, I was inspired by the blog of Dan Wilson. This Australian triathlete is now perhaps my favorite triathlete based entirely on the hilarity of his race reports. (See particularly his report re: whether or not to wear socks in a 70.3.)

I doubt that I can make you laugh as many times as Dan made me laugh this morning, but I’ll try to keep it on the short side and minimize the snores.

At the beginning of March I went to Florida to spend Spring Break coaching and training with Marymount’s triathlon team, but was not intending to race at all. However, after having a few weeks of pretty spectacular workouts and coming to life in the Florida sun, I decided to see if I could still sneak my way into the ITU race in Sarasota.

I arrived on the line--or the pontoon, rather--shockingly calm and ready to go, not to mention free of sunburn, having spent the week obsessively drenching myself in sunscreen before every single exposure. I think I was actually paler after that week in the sun, much to my chagrin, and was ready to make the sacrifice worth it in this race.

As it’s my area of least experience, the swim always provides plenty of room for learning. This supposed-to-be-750-meter-but-actually-850-meter swim provided 100 meters more experience than expected. I actually swam okay, but made a couple tactical errors that left me leading a chase pack and exiting the water about 20 seconds behind the second pack.

So I jumped on my bike in chase mode and hammered solo into a decent headwind after the group. Just about when I’d had enough of that, I was joined by my new Canadian friend, and, half-way through the bike leg, we managed to latch onto the second pack.

We entered T2 still about a minute down from the leaders. My bike refused to steer properly so I managed a rather impressive (in my opinion) cyclocross carry through transition and took off on the run, ready to take down as many girls as possible. The run was hot! But I managed to put that from my mind because running people down has to be among the best feelings in the world.

I crossed the line in fifth, happily sun burnt and just in the money, wishing I had 400 or so more meters to run….but pleased.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a single picture to show you for my efforts. Apparently, the only time college students get off their phones and stop instagramming is when they watch their coach race--and as I appreciated their cheer support, I guess I can’t complain too much.

They did capture our happy post-race beach trip, in which all the childhood swimmers sat on the beach while the rest of us frolicked in the glorious waves (and I regretted my sunburn as I was pummeled by sand and salt).

don't give up on the year 'till it's over

2015 is the year I have been the most excited for. Ever.

And it’s not because I am doing new things or am making big life changes. It’s just because I am So. Very. Ecstatic. That 2014 is over.

Looking back, I wanted 2014 to be over a long time ago--seven months ago, to be more specific.

To be less specific, there are a number of reasons I was ready to be shot of the year, and I won’t go into them all here. A big one, though, was that I had an exceptionally disappointing first season as a pro triathlete. I’ve been told it wasn’t as bad as I thought, and it’s not that I don’t believe that, rationally, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. And I’m not here to lie to you.

It’s not that I couldn’t find things to learn from in each race, and it certainly was not that I was going backwards in swimming, biking, and running. There was some “bad luck” at the wrong times (dropped chains and a bruised rib), but, more so, it was self-inflicted pressure, and mental stress, and emotional stress, and just straight up STRESS--and other aggravating intangibles that can get in the way of even the most talented and fit athletes.

The result of the buildup of all the blockages--both tangible and intangible--was such discouragement and self-doubt that I wanted to give up. Not on the sport, per sé, but on the year for sure. At the end of July I was ready to throw in the towel, shut down for the season, and wait for 2015--which couldn’t come quickly enough.

I didn’t, though, or couldn’t. As a pro, I knew I couldn’t make decisions based entirely on feelings of disappointment. I had to get some manner of progress from the season, even if it wasn’t the progress I had hoped for. So I changed gears.

I went to Luray, a local race where I knew I could make some money but that was low pressure. I stretched myself in a way I had never done before and raced on back-to-back days--the Olympic-distance race on Saturday and the Sprint on Sunday. I won both, but, more importantly and regardless of the win, had the best races I had all season--compared to myself. I also had fun. I enjoyed racing and socializing. I regained a huge ounce of confidence and re-considered getting ready for a fall race.

Then, as I was planning for my little comeback, I got sick for the first time since I had dengue fever while I was in ‘Nam (though thankfully no hospital stays or hair loss this time). Not a big deal, but enough to make a fall triathlon questionable. Once again, I contemplated just being done.  Maybe this was my body telling me that the year had been full of too much stress--tangible and intangible alike--and that it was throwing in the towel on 2014.

But I pressed on, once again changing my approach (with the help of my coach). Instead of gearing up for a fall tri, I picked a late-fall 10k road race and started into a run-focused block of training. Our rationale was that I could still achieve one of the goals I had set for the year--to improve some of my run times.

The run block was fun. It gave me a little break from swimming and biking and took me back to my roots, so to speak. I think I got above 50 miles/week for the first time since college, which felt like a big deal (even though it wouldn’t have back then!).

It totally paid off. I broke my 10k PR by a minute and improved my 5k PR from my sophomore year of college--within the 10k. I won’t say I was satisfied, but I was appeased. The 10k time didn’t make up for my season, but it was proof that, frustrating season or not, I was still making progress--something I desperately needed to know.

Moral of the story? Sometimes it is tempting to want a “new start.” And sometimes, a new start is in order. (Thank God for 2015!) But sometimes opting out for a new start is a lot more like giving up. You never know what you might gain from persevering through a tough time.

That being said, perseverance might take a different form than what you had expected. Sometimes it’s not so much about a new start as it is about forging a new trail--thinking outside the box to try an unexpected approach or looking at the situation from an unfamiliar perspective.

Join me in welcoming 2015 (yeah, I’m a little behind) and committing to not giving up on it for at least eleven more months!

Thanks to my sponsors @Tri360, my coach @MZaneCastro, my parents, and all my friends who supported me through a rough year. You know who you are.