Camp, Tahoe, Training... oh my!

It's been a busy end to the summer with lots of training/ racing fun to get me ready for my final smashfest of the season... Ironman Arizona.  With 6 1/2 weeks to go, I'm entering the final stages of preparation.  This year has been all about building bike strength.  I've put in hours upon hours in the saddle.  Climbing hills.  Climbing mountains.  Racing hard.  Racing hills.  Racing elevation.  Training intervals.  Big gear intervals.  Max power intervals.  You name it, I've probably seen it in the last 9 months.

When someone asks me now, 'what's your weakness?' I think I can finally, with confidence, answer: "I don't really have one."  I'm not saying I'm the best triathlete in my age group.  But I feel much more well rounded now.  I've turned my bike into a strength.  My swim, somehow, has continued to improve.  And well, my run is there.  It's still waiting for it's day in the sun, but there are other factors that have limited my run performance thus far.  Namely, hydration and nutrition.  I'm no longer running poorly because I biked out of my league.

Smash Camp

Throughout the year on different occasions, I've been sent to Mt. Lemmon with the instructions to smash myself from mile 0-20.5, which is the official Mt. Lemmon climb.  Each time I've taken a little chunk of time off-- a minute here, a couple minutes there-- gradually increasing how much power I'm able to sustain for the effort.  Over Labor Day weekend I participated in the Smashfest Women's Camp in Tucson.  On Sunday we climbed Mt. Lemmon, and chased by my teammate, I took 7 minutes off my previous best time- the biggest chunk of time I've taken off at one time.  I should also note that during these Lemmon test events, I've also been working on my descending and each time I am becoming more and more comfortable, and my times are decreasing there as well.

Mt. Lemmon Smashfest!

On Monday we headed over to the local community college for a track session.  4 of the women training for upcoming Ironman events (including myself) were given one workout, while the remainder of the group training for half IM events tackled another one.  It was one of the most brutal single workouts I've done.  I've had long, hard training days, but I can't remember the last time ONE workout took so much out of me.  But as Coach so happily pointed out, that's the purpose.  If I can do THIS workout, I can tackle the run on race day no problem.

The 4 of us pacing out our intervals.

Building mental strength.  

Ironman Lake Tahoe

View from our hotel.

Two weeks later, I headed off to beautiful Lake Tahoe for the 2nd and final edition of Ironman Lake Tahoe.  I competed in IM Lake Tahoe in 2013.  You can read about that: Here.  In 2014 the race was cancelled due to wildfires.  We had heard rumors that the race was going to be canned due to low participation numbers and I wanted a chance to experience the course again in something warmer than 29 degrees so in August I signed up for the full, and DB signed up for the half.

I (heart) Lake Tahoe!

I am so thankful that we did because a few days after a very successful race (on the part of Ironman) the announcement was made that they would not be continuing to host the event in Lake Tahoe.  It's so disappointing to those of us who truly appreciate everything the race had to offer.  It is absolutely stunningly gorgeous.  It's challenging both from the elevation standpoint, but also the climbs that are on the course.  And the lake is THE BEST swim venue of all the races I've done.  The water is crystal clear, chilly but not cold.

Checking in my gem on Saturday.

I'm not going to go into every last detail about the race but I'd like to share some highlights.

The swim
I felt FANTASTIC.  The best I've ever felt in a swim.  Ever.  The course was two loops and though I started near the front, by the time we got into water deep enough to swim I was probably several hundred people back.  Within no time, everyone who ran full speed ahead into the water and subsequently became hypoxic faded behind me.  I have dialed in my swim pace in training so I was able to just put my head down and swim.  By the time I passed the 3rd turn buoy on lap 1, I pulled ahead of the small group of 4 I was with and ahead of me were clear waters for hundreds of meters.  At the start of lap 2, I caught the pack in front of me and continued to pass people (a majority of them on lap 1 still) all the way to the finish.  I exited the water with a new swim PR of 54 minutes 30 seconds, 1st in my age group, 6th female, and 33rd athlete overall out of 1423 athletes.  32 people swam faster than me.  4 minutes faster than my previous best.  And the beautiful thing was, it felt so easy.  Effortless.  I can't wait till IMAZ.  I honestly think I can go faster.

My First Out of The Water ROKA Swim Award!

If you look closely at the photo-- you'll see that my Garmin tracked my swim as 2.48 miles.  I'm not saying my Garmin is 100% accurate, but it is the same tool I use in every single open water swim race so it is, if nothing else, consistent.  And the course was not short.  (Everyone's first thought when you post a 4 minute swim PR.... haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate, thank you T Swizzle).

T1:  Uphill, in ankle deep sand...

The bike
The weather was hovering around 40 degrees when we got out of the water so I grabbed a jacket and some gloves in T1.  I hated putting them on, and creating excess drag, but I was so thankful to have them as I was chilly through mile 40.  I dropped them at an aid station before the final big climb of loop 1.  The bike course is fun.  Hilly.  Challenging.  Slightly technical in spots.  Enough to keep you on your toes.  The volunteers are amazing.  I was happy to ride consistently, and my first 56 miles matched the time of my second 56 miles.  The climb up Brockway is B.R.U.T.A.L.  5 miles from start to finish and steep.  Literally a 30 minute grind each time.  And the speedy descent back into King's Beach is over way too quickly.

Captured on the climb.  

The run
Well, I'm not gonna lie, I'm not happy with my run.  But that's ok.  Early on when I knew it was going to be a very bad marathon I made the decision to just get to the finish line, no matter what.  I had hours and hours to get there.  I wanted to be one of the few people that can say she finished both editions of Ironman Lake Tahoe, a notoriously difficult race.  I wanted the bear medal.  (Did you see the picture above?!)  I had seen the medal in the expo on Friday and I knew I had to have it.  Bear is my nickname since, like, birth.  Combination warm and cuddly and don't fucking mess with me or you're gonna hear me roar.  Anyway... I also had to finish the race in order to be awarded the ROKA Swim Award for my age group win.  It doesn't matter what the rationale is, on race day everyone has to find their own reasons to get across the line.

Coming out of T2.

The first lap of the run is about 18 miles.  Leaving only 8 miles for lap 2.  My friend Michel had been keeping an eye on me during lap one, especially after I disappeared off the radar for a while.  At around mile 16 she offered to run/ walk the second lap with me.  I circled through Olympic Village and back out onto the bike path where she was waiting for me.  I was hurting pretty badly and so glad to have her there with me to make sure I was still eating, drinking and moving forward.  One of my teammates caught up to us and ran with us for a couple of miles.  Feeling the pressure of the girls behind her she eventually ran ahead to secure a 3rd place finish in her age group.

Heading out of the village with my husband at the start of Lap 2.  

There's a lot of solidarity out on the course when the sun goes down.  The fast folks have finished and are enjoying a nice shower and dinner.  The remaining group of athletes has to dig a little deeper to make sure they are making it in before the cutoffs.  Everyone acknowledges each other's suffering and encourages each other.  So as much as I love to be in when the sun is still high in the sky... every once in a while I need to be on the other end, giving and receiving support from my fellow athlete.  With 2 miles to go, Michel left me to head to the finish line.  I ran the whole rest of the way.  My pace was slow but I was happy to be running.

Pre race, with my HPB Teammate!

The finish line
Ironman Lake Tahoe was number 18 in my Ironman career.  And every finish deserves respect and celebration no matter how slow.  I shed a few tears in the chute and threw my arms up in my typical finish line fashion.  And it was done.  I had goals I didn't reach, but I have no regrets.  I would sign up again for Ironman Lake Tahoe in a heartbeat.

This pretty much says it all.

The next phase
I recovered quickly from Tahoe and had a few days off of work to take advantage of some extra sleep.  To be very honest, cause really I don't know how to be any other way, I'm a little down.  Some stuff happened, and I went for a little roller coaster ride that I really hadn't intended on, and I'm left feeling a little lost.

6 years ago, my (now) husband was run off the road while biking and though his injuries were not more severe than some broken bones, it was a wake up call.  For the first time, I realized that I could lose him and it terrified me.  I had sworn for 5 years of our relationship that I would never get married, and after that accident I knew that I wanted to marry him.  I knew that it was important to him, and suddenly the thought of being without him was frightening.  I wanted to make 'us' official.

Recently, I had another wake up call.  No broken bones this time, and no cars involved, but nevertheless... I found myself terrified of losing him all over again.  I took a step back and realized that I don't want to be the over-reactor... waiting for something bad to happen to remind me of how good my life is.  I want to appreciate and love my life every single day.  I have taken a lot for granted over the years.  Especially lately as life has gotten so busy, and there never seems to be enough time in a day or a week.  It's time to stop.  It's unsettling.  And I don't know exactly how to move forward, so I feel a little stuck.  I don't want my actions to seem unauthentic, but at the same time my instinct is to grab hold of him and never let go.

I have some fun insights into my upcoming training, but I'll save that for another day when I feel a little spunkier.  I'll leave you with some lyrics from a song by Meghan Trainor...

So I'm gonna love you, like I'm gonna lose you.  I'm gonna hold you, like I'm saying goodbye.  Wherever we're standing, I won't take you for granted.  'Cause we'll never know when, we'll run out of time.  So I'm gonna love you, like I'm gonna lose you.

My husband qualified for the 2016 Half Ironman World Championships in Australia next year.  He jokingly suggested taking a month off to enjoy Australia... and right now, that's sounding pretty darn good.

Making Lemonade

If you'd asked me a year ago where I thought I'd be right now, it would not be where I am.  In the last year I've learned some things about myself, about life, and about what's important to me.  One year ago, I was 4 weeks from the best race of my life.  Only I didn't know it, and I didn't truly appreciate how great that day was.  Prior to lining up that race morning I had mapped out 2013 to include my final 4 races to qualify me for the Ironman Legacy.  Now that I'm 4 weeks away from the 4th and final race of the year ... I don't think I want the Legacy anymore. 

This year has been a roller coaster of trials, tribulations, travels, and testing.  I almost wish for a simpler version, an easier way.  But you don't learn from easy.  You learn by being burned in the fire.  After a delayed start to my training season, things were beginning to improve.  We went to Boston and Texas, both of which were good training days, nothing more. 

Life ain't always what you think it ought to be.

A month later, I found myself in Coeur D'Alene having a phenomenal day and boosting my confidence.  Unfortunately, the training in between was marked by weeks of taper, recovery, and very slow progress in training.  Almost imperceptible at times.  As the season went on my frustration mounted and I felt cheated.  I should have enjoyed that race last November at IMAZ, I thought, because it's going to be my one hit wonder.  I am officially a one trick pony, I concluded.

I survived, and even had a little fun, in Tahoe.  I had already begun to question my motives and desires with the Legacy.  I felt as though my training and fitness level were equal to where I was in February of 2012.  About 9 months before the race of my life.  What if, instead of applying for Legacy, I re-aimed my bow and shot for Texas 2014 instead?  Or Wisconsin?

Heading home from Ironman Tahoe, we dropped our bikes and gear bags off with TriBike Transport as we have done for every out of town race since 2007.  Little did I know it would be the last time I saw my bike (and everything else I own).  The truck containing my bike and gear bag was stolen in LA during an overnight stay.  It all seems very suspicious to me.  I have so little faith in humanity to begin with, but really... LA?  If I was going to choose a place in which to spend the night with $200,000 worth of gear in the back of my truck I certainly wouldn't pick LA.  The trucks are unmarked, so I can't help but think that someone at the hotel (working the overnight shift likely for less than what they believe they're worth) tipped off the thief and now my precious E'ly is lost forever.  I cringe when I imagine the kind of abuse that she's sustained out of my care. 

I never received a call from TriBike Transport.  No one called me to apologize.  No one emailed me.  No one offered to send me the $2000 worth of insurance money that I had purchased with the trip.  No one offered to refund my money since they didn't follow through on the whole "transport" bit.  Not a single contact.  They called my husband.  Told him he should probably pull over since he was driving.  To this day, I've never received a single phone call or email.  In my opinion this is poor customer service on their part.  I know they're making their job easier by only dealing with one of us, but I realize now how very little I matter to them.  If I treated my clients in the same manner I'd be out of a job.   

When life hands you a lemon, you tell that lemon to go fuck itself.

 

Good news for TriBike is now they'll be making a heck of a lot more money because every single person that uses their business will now fully ensure their property.  We always bought an extra $1000 in insurance thinking that if something were "damaged" we could have it fixed/ replaced for 2 grand.  We never imagined in our wildest dreams that we'd lose everything we own related to our triathlon racing.  Wetsuits, shoes (bike and run), custom orthotics, custom race kits.  Everything I bought at the expo.  Goggles, helmets, hydration system, race wheels.  Plus all the little things like ear plugs, water bottles, nutrition products, sunscreen, chamois cream.  It all adds up.  And it doesn't even include the time and hundreds of dollars I spent dialing in my fit. 

I spiraled into depression.  In the weeks that followed Tahoe, I rode my old road bike which had been stripped down and loaned out multiple times.  It no longer fit me and with each ride, my discomfort and sadness increased.  My husband was negotiating with insurance companies to try to get our gear replaced.  I am so thankful that he took the initiative because I was pretty much useless.  I wanted my old bike back (I still do).  I didn't want a newer, better, different bike.  My bike was part of my identity.  I was recognized because of my bike. 

Never love something that can't love you back.

When my new bike arrived (now named Sly), Two Wheel Jones spent hours of overtime getting her built up in time for my bike fit with fit-guru, Cyclologic.  Though I'm sure the mechanic enjoyed the case of beer and the Starbucks I brought him, he'll never understand how much I appreciate the extra effort he put forth working on Sly.  I picked her up and drove straight to my bike fit where I touched her intimately for the first time. 

She is beautiful.  And sleek and fast.  My heart is guarded.  I feel like I've just been through this terrible break up and I won't allow myself to fully embrace her yet.  As one friend reminded me, never love something that can't love you back.  I had allowed myself to love E'ly, and when she was stolen from me I felt as though I had lost a friend.  It's my own fault, really.  She was an inanimate object.  She couldn't love me back.  It was the joy and freedom that she gave me out on the road that I really treasured and will miss the most.   

With my new bike in hand, I've been training a little more comfortably in the last couple of weeks.  I've also noticed that I feel better, stronger, faster than I was a few weeks ago.  This might be a coincidence, I realize, since we are also training on flatter ground now that my hilly races are over.  But 2 months ago I couldn't keep up with my husband for a mile on the beeline and now we're alternating lead in a paceline to keep the pace and intensity up.

I almost want to get my hopes up.  I almost want to believe. 

After much soul-searching I have made several decisions.  Number one, I will give my all in November.  I may not PR and I might not come anywhere close to my race last year.  But it will be my best effort where I am now, and will likely be my second fastest race ever.  That said, you never know where the stars will align on race day and I don't easily give up. 

Secondly, I am not going to apply for Legacy.  This year.  With how close I came to qualifying for Kona last year, I feel that by applying for Legacy I would be cheating myself out of the opportunity to qualify for real.  To have that experience of wondering and waiting for results.  To stand up and claim my ticket to the Big Island.  To cry, and laugh, and cheer, and celebrate all the blood, sweat, and tears that it takes to get there.

Thirdly, I have hired a coach starting January 1.  One thing I learned this year is that I can't do it all, and I can't do it all alone.  I have been pushed to my limit, and pulled in too many different directions with work and life.  I have skipped more workouts this year due to lack of sleep than in the last 8 years combined.  And my workouts have become stale.  When I actually do have time for something, I end up doing the same loop on my bike or steady state run.  There's no thought involved.  No pushing myself.  With a coach, I hope to take the guess work out of my training and be more focused.  I want to be held accountable so that I do get enough sleep, and fuel myself appropriately for training.  I want to be able to maximize my training time to get the most out of myself, and be able to race to my full potential.  I want to give myself the opportunity to achieve my goals at either Texas or Wisconsin.  And if I still don't get there, that's OK.  I will accept that I've done everything I could- and throw my name in the lottery for the following year.

If you want something you've never had, then you've got to do something you've never done.

I am really excited about the opportunity to be part of Team HPB.  I think she will be a good match for me.  She understands my background and my abilities.  She will know how to push me and get the best out of me.  I've never had a coach before, and I always said that as long as I'm seeing improvement I'll continue to do what I'm doing.  This year is the first time I haven't seen improvement, and I'm ready to take that step.  I look forward to the challenges and opportunities of 2014.

For the remaining 4 weeks, I am going to immerse myself in positive self-talk, and motivational CDs, books and music.  I will regain my mental edge which has been my best asset in training and racing.  I will continue to hone my efforts on the bike and I will be ready for race day when it arrives.  Mentally, physically, emotionally. 

Because as my favorite song writer says...

If you only had one shot, one opportunity, to seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment.... would you capture it?  Or just let it slip?   

Ironman Lake Tahoe

I sat on the floor of my hotel room.  My chin resting on my knees which were tucked against my chest.  Tears spontaneously spilled over my lower lids and down my cheeks.  My husband, enjoying some Saturday afternoon college football on TV, peers over the half wall dividing the living space from the sleeping quarter.  What are you doing, he asks.  I shrug.  I'm scared.  Terrified. 

I can't really explain it.  After 10 Ironman finishes, I'm not afraid of the distance.  I'm not afraid of the swim or bonking or having a flat tire.  I was scared to death of this bike course.  I was so intimidated by this race and, not wanting to ruin my "superwoman" image, I couldn't reach out and ask for support.  I felt in no way prepared to climb mountains on my bicycle.  I live at sea level.  And there are no mountains.  (For reals, people.... Phoenix "mountains" are ant hills compared to the real deal.  I know we all like to say we climbed South Mountain, or Usery Pass or whatever.  Forget it.  Those will get you nowhere on this course.  There are no mountains in the fucking desert.  None.  *sigh*)  On top of which, the weather had taken a sudden turn for the worse and we were now forecasted to get on our bikes in 29 degree temps.  There are not enough clothes in my suitcase to protect me from 29 degrees.

I needed a pep talk.  I called my sister.  No answer.  I called a friend who had recently battled her own IM demons.  No answer.  I texted another friend who has completed a couple of 100 milers and knows what's up.  "I'm scared."  He responded, "When you stop being scared, it's time to stop racing."  Those were the magic words.  It was OK for me to be afraid.  Normal, even.  I could stop second guessing myself just because I was afraid.    

The Swim

This was the closest I had ever been to missing the swim start.  We got on a shuttle bus in Olympic Valley at 5 am heading toward King's Beach and the transition area.  The closer we got to the start the more backed up traffic was.  By the time we reached the drop off point, I had 40 minutes to get into T1, pump tires, drop more clothes in my gear bag, do my warm up jog, hit the port-a-potty one last time, and get my wetsuit on.  By the time I filled my tires and added clothes to my gear bag, I had less than 20 minutes to the swim start. 

I hurried into the women's change tent and began to peel off layers down to my swim suit and got into my wetsuit.  This is an ordeal because the wetsuit is tight fitting and it's not a simple task to get in and out of it on a good day.  Add in frozen hands... nearly impossible. 

Pros take to the water at IM Lake Tahoe.

The gun went off for the pro start as I was about to leave the change tent.  I stuffed my dry clothes into the plastic bag provided and dashed off to the swim entrance on the other side of transition.  I threw my bag into the appropriate box to be transported to the finish, and ran across the beach into the 1:00-1:10 corral.  Less than a minute later, the cannon sounded the start of the amateur wave. 

The first 100 yards or so of the swim are only shin deep water so it's not possible to swim, you sort of wade / jog through the sand.  I wanted my husband to try to stay with me in the swim so I waited while he cleared his goggles a couple of times and then when the lake floor dropped off beneath our feet we dove in and began swimming. 

I love the swim.  I'm not saying I don't occasionally feel anxious if there are too many limbs flailing, but I've been able to align myself during Ironman events to the outside and avoid all the clutter.  I can just swim my race by myself and enjoy the peacefulness of the water as the sun rises.  The lake was beautiful.  Looking out over the lake prior to the start, there was a deep layer of mist hanging over the water and snow-capped peaks surrounding the opposite shoreline.  It was gorgeous. 

Ironman Lake Tahoe Swim Course.

Swimming through mist is another challenge altogether.  I was unable to see the buoys until I was right next to them.  Sighting was nearly impossible.  I just had to trust that I was going the right way and hope that I was not getting too far off course.  Once I looked up and realized that the buoy I was following had blown away and was being dragged back into place by a jet ski.  Drat!  A few more yards added to my swim.  Oh well.  It was so early in the race and I really had no time goals of any sort so what did it matter? 

I circled the buoys and started lap two entering significantly choppier waters.  I was almost immediately passing slower swimmers who were in their first loop.  I stayed out of the way and even picked up the pace a little bit.  The swim seemed to fly by and soon I was heading toward the swim exit and T1.

I almost forgot to mention... but I feel the need to address it since press coverage was significant... I did NOT feel cold in the swim.  On the contrary, the water at nearly 60 degrees felt quite warm compared to the air temperature.  So I was quite happy to be swimming and wasn't the least bit uncomfortable.  I've raced IM Coeur d'Alene twice and both times the water was colder than it was in Lake Tahoe on Sunday.  Had I been a slower swimmer, I may have been affected by the cold air temps during the swim.  But I'm not.  And nothing on my body was cold... until I stepped out of the water.

Swim Time: 1:03:30

IM Lake Tahoe Swim Exit

T1:  14 minutes, 19 seconds

Running through transition my feet instantly froze.  By the time I had my gear bag, got my wetsuit stripped and ran into the change tent I could barely speak, and my fingers were numb and non-functional.  I had planned (and subsequently executed) to take my swim suit off, dry off and put completely dry clothes on.  (This is as opposed to a "normal" IM event where I wear my tri kit under my wetsuit and speed on through T1 throwing on my helmet and shoes as I'm running.)  Getting into tight fitting cycling gear is tough normally, but doing it while damp with unfeeling fingers sucked!  I am totally appreciative of the volunteer who wasn't the least but hurried and helping my get my naked, shivering body into my layers of clothes for the bike ride.  5 layers in total.  And they didn't help one little bit.

"When you stop being scared, it's time to stop racing."

The Bike

My friend (who gave me the pep talk) has a rule in ultrarunning.  If he wants to drop out of a race (and I don't mean pulled by medical), he has to sit at the aid station until the time cutoff passes and he is not allowed to continue.  Generally, if you sit there long enough you start to feel better and you'll continue.  I made the decision on Saturday that this would be my strategy during the race, specifically the bike leg.  It took away the constant desire to assess how I was feeling and the downward spiral that can happen when negative thoughts creep into my head.  Assuming I didn't get pulled by medical for any reason, I was going to keep making forward progress.  So I didn't have to think, I could just bike. 

My husband caught up with me early on the bike ride.  Here we're climbing the 7% grade just before Tahoe City.

The bike course is 2 1/3 loops from King's Beach in North Lake Tahoe up the highway to Truckee and then circling back to King's Beach via a few neighborhoods and another highway.  There are two significant climbs per loop, each totalling 2-3 miles, but very steep in parts.  The remainder of the course is relatively fast and very scenic.

At around 20 miles in, I decided I should start eating.  My hands were numb and even though I was hungry, I couldn't bring myself to try to use them before this point.  After I passed the aid station, I reached into my bento to pull out a Bonk Breaker and realized that it was frozen.  Imagine that.  Things freeze when it's below 30. 

I decided that I'd need to make a stop at the next aid station to get caught up on calories and fluids.  We passed through Truckee and up a little incline on the bike path to the 30 mile aid station.  I pulled over and asked one of the volunteers to please open a Bonk Breaker for me.  I ate and drank a bottle of water before I got back on my bike and kept going.  This worked really well given my half-frozen state so I decided to continue the trend of stopping at every aid station. 

IM Lake Tahoe Bike Course.

On the climbs I did warm up a bit, but then the descents chilled me again and my shivering continued until mile 70.  My neck and back ached badly because of the relentless shivering.  At the base of the final set of climbs I removed my vest and shoved it in my back pocket.  I was happy to climb and warm up, but damn that last hill.  I knew where the top was, I knew how long it would take me to get there, but I was getting so frustrated that it seemed to never arrive. 

Eventually it did, and I stopped at the top to rest for a second and eat again.  I was home free from here on in.  I had about 25 miles of relatively easy biking back to transition.  Barring any mechanicals, I had survived the bike course.  I was going to finish this race. 

Because I had stopped so frequently for my rest stops/ Ironman picnic, I felt really good.  My legs weren't trashed and I was ready to run.  I arrived back in transition late in the afternoon but well ahead of the 5:30 pm cutoff time. 

Bike Time:  7:31:24       

IM Lake Tahoe Bike Course.

T2:  4 minutes, 34 seconds

T2 was a little easier as I was mostly thawed out at this point.  It took a while to get out of all my layers.  Thankfully I grabbed my arm warmers cause I needed them later when the sun went down.  Quick pit stop and I was off and running.

The Run

The run course was 1 1/2 loops mostly on a wide bike path along a gorgeous flowing creek.  It was beautiful!  I felt good coming out of transition and stopped to hug a friend (first one I'd seen!).  Trust me, this was for my benefit - cause I needed a hug after that bike ride- but for his sake hopefully I didn't smell too badly since I wasn't sweating. 

About 7 miles in, I saw my husband coming from the other direction about 6 miles ahead of me.  I stopped briefly to see how he was and give him some encouragement.  But I had been running well and wanted to keep moving. 

There were 3 hills to speak of on the run course which we hit both loops.  The first hill was steep, but short, just past the golf course in Squaw Creek.  The second hill was really short, basically a little incline to take us from the bike path up to the highway.  The third hill was longer but gradual, maybe 1/4 mile or so.  I walked these hills both loops, and I walked through the aid stations to eat and drink, but otherwise my legs felt great and I ran the rest of the course. 

IM Lake Tahoe Run Course.

Running through Olympic Village between loops I stopped again to high five and hug my friends.  With 18 miles done, I had only an 8 mile victory lap left before the finish.  It got dark very quickly as I headed back out and eventually I had to grab a mylar blanket to wrap up in because it got cold.  I ran with it for about 4-5 miles and then ditched it at the final aid station, not wanting it in my finish line photo. 

Run Time:  4:45:26

After 13 1/2 hours I re-entered Olympic Village, this time on my way to the finish line of Ironman number eleven.  I was emotional, and near tears when I heard Mike Reilly call me to the finish, "You are an Ironman!"  This was my hardest fought victory.  Despite the adverse weather conditions, I never thought about quitting.  Only about putting one foot in front of the other until I crossed the line.  Failure does something to a person, if it doesn't kill you it will make you stronger and you'll realize that there's no reason to quit.  It's a long day.  We each face our own battles out there.  Some the swim.  Some the cold.  Some the hills.  Some the clock.  You just have to reach inside and see what you're made of.  In this case, I found I was made of some pretty tough stuff.

The finish line!

Finish Time:  13:39:13

I have a new PR.  My slowest IM by 48 minutes.  But it's tough to judge a finish by the time.  My confidence has been renewed and my motivation along with it.  I am excited to get back to training and preparing for IM AZ in just under 7 weeks.  It will be my season ender, and the start of a celebratory off season.  I've got plenty of fun lined up for the winter but I am looking forward to continuing in this sport that is so ingrained in my heart, my mind and my muscle memory.  I'm still on course to get back to trail running.... but you'll see me on two IM courses next year.  I just can't stay away. 

I'd like to thank my husband for his endless love and support.  I would not be half the athlete that I am without his support and encouragement.  He believes in big dreams, just like I do.  Thank you to my team, TriScottsdale, the best and badest-ass bunch of triathletes in the valley.  You challenge me to be my best.  Thank you to Endurance Rehab (Nate Snell) for keeping me healthy.  Without you I'd be a professional couch potato cause this girl was NOT born to run, but she sure loves to.  Thank you to everyone who texted, FB, or called with words of encouragement during race week.  This community is amazing and I'm thankful to have some many wonderful friends. 

Ironman Lake Tahoe:  Finish #11