Unveiling

Him (excitedly):  Tell me about the race!!

Me:  Well, it was OK.  There's really not much to tell.  There was a new bike course with some hills.

Him:  That's it?  Fine, you don't want to talk.

Me:  No, it's not that... there's just not... I just didn't... whatever.  I just felt like I ran slow compared to last year.  My first mile was, like, a 7:15.  It's just a stupid sprint distance.  Whatever.  It doesn't matter.

Him:  Do you even hear yourself? .. I don't get it....

Me:  I just, I've lost a lot of confidence in the last couple of weeks.

Him:  You lost confidence because...??  Because you couldn't keep up with the professional triathletes at camp?  Because everyone who beat you up the hill has been to Kona and most of them have been on the podium at Kona?  You lost confidence because you were the next one to the top?   You lost confidence because you were asked to swim in the coaches' lane?

Me:  I'm not in competition with them.  It's not that.  I just didn't do as well as I had hoped to do.  I still have a lot of work to do and I don't think I'm ready yet.

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This is the conversation that went on as we drove around running errands on Sunday.  I had raced Tri 4 The Cure that morning, a super-sprint distance race to raise awareness for breast cancer.  And regardless of if it makes sense or not, this is how I was (am?) feeling.  I fight this sort of self talk.  Most of the time thoughts get quashed in my mind before I even finish entertaining them.  But for some reason, between camp and being exhausted from moving, I've been in a downward mental spiral.  I know I need to get this under control, and STAT.  Texas is just around the corner and if I don't go into it believing I can win, I won't.

Surrounded by some insanely talented women.

On Monday morning I had an hour on the treadmill so I turned on one of my favorite podcasts to boost my spirits a little bit.  If you haven't listened to this one, I highly recommend it.  My coach, Hillary, is obviously on a completely different playing field when it comes to athletic talent and ability, but she knows a little something about having to work to reach her goals.  Having her believe in me, and believe that I can accomplish my dream, restores my confidence and keeps me focused on the prize.

Here is what I heard:

"Look where you want to go, and go where you look..... The person who works the hardest does win in the end, if, if, IF you're willing to keep showing up longer and again and again and again after everyone else gives up.  It may take you twice as long as it takes most people, but if you're willing to keep showing up until you get where you want to go... you can't stop relentless forward progress.  If you're the one who keeps showing you, you will eventually get there...   

What I realized is what actually is apparently really difficult for most people is to find a way.... find a way to make your goal happen.  What is really easy, is to find all the things in the way.  Anyone can find an excuse.   

Look where you want to go, keep showing up, every day, keep showing up after everyone else has quit.  If you do that you'll be too busy to see everything that's in your way, keep your eyes focused where you want to go, and you'll go where you're looking."

Obviously there's a lot more lentils and potatoes in her talk, but these are the key points that impact me.  That speak to me.  When I am in the bulk of my training, I am up every day at 4 am, getting my training done before heading into work for a 10-12 hour shift, and then I head home, eat a quick bite and go to bed by 8 pm to make sure I get a solid 8 hours of rest.  I am so busy that I don't have time to think about what everyone else is doing.  I can only focus on me.  What I am doing to prepare.

By staying focused, I am not looking for obstacles.  I'm not looking for all the things that are in my way, all the possible excuses.  I don't blink when the alarm goes off.  I don't hit the snooze button.  I get up and start my day.  I would love to have a flexible schedule, or a job that allows me to work from home so I could train as much as I want.  I don't.  (But I do have an office full of colleagues who encourage me, and cyber cheer on race day.)

And I am willing.  I am willing to keep showing up.  Again and again and again and again.  I am willing to do the work.  I am willing to make the effort.  I am not afraid of failure.  And I believe that this will happen.  This one, crazy, stupid dream.  It will happen.

And so it seems an appropriate segue to unveil the name of my gem.  I announced on Facebook last week that I was having trouble coming up with a name and asked my friends to help me out.  I was shocked with the number of responses that I got, and even more with the number of legit names that people threw out.  Of course there were a few that garnered a laugh, but amid the sea of possibilities one name struck me.  One name caused instant goosebumps and chills.

My gem.

Hope.

A name I never would have come up with myself.  I mean, really?  Hope?  It's so... pink.  And fluffy.  But the name, Hope, embodies the essence of this entire process for me.  Hope.  Without it, I would have given up long ago.  I would have thrown my name into the Legacy lottery and been done with it all.  I wouldn't have cared.  But I do care.  I HOPE that one day I will qualify for Kona.  And it will be on my own two feet that I carried this dream into reality.

My friend who suggested Hope is British, and suggested it in honor of the Hope Diamond.  I did a little research into the Hope Diamond and though I was a little nervous at all the suggestions of a curse, I choose to believe the like the Hope Diamond, the curse will afflict anyone who steals her from my possession.  (Maybe she'll even inflict a little curse on those who took my beloved E'ly...)

I would like to give a shout out to a couple of other suggestions that I really loved:

One friend suggested Adamas.  She said, "It is the Greek word diamond is derived from.  It means unbreakable.  I saw the dude fall into you when you came out of the water in Tempe.  I thought you were going down.  You barely flinched.  So, I am sure that bike is as unbreakable as you."

And two people suggested Zorro, the name of my beloved kitty that I put to sleep one day shy of a year ago.  My husband had thought I would choose this name, because Zorro is always with me.  

This weekend Hope and I will be tackling Oceanside 70.3- my favorite triathlon!  I have raced Oceanside 5 times previously.  I look forward to tackling the bike course on my new gem.  She is so light, and she does love to climb!  I've already laid down bets with my swim club.  This year we opted to go for the 'who gets closest to their predicted time' challenge since we are not actually in competition with each other.  Beers are on the line, and I've set out a harsh but attainable goal for myself.

Eliminating the Weakness

I am not new to long distance cycling.  Twice I have ridden RAGBRAI, a 500 mile bike ride across Iowa in 7 days.  Looking back now I question what combination of crazy and stupid allowed me to get through the miles unscathed at a time in my life when 500 miles a week was far from normal.  At the time, yes I was tired, but it seemed no big deal.  It never crossed my mind that I couldn't do it.

For some reason in my quest of #findingkona I began to see cycling as a weakness.  Compared to the other women in my age group, against whom I am competing, I was slower and not as strong on the bike.  It never bothered me before that I was a better swim/ runner than I was a cyclist.  Triathlon is a package deal, and I was still getting to the finish line in 12 hours which I think is pretty respectable.  But when I decided to chase a Kona qualification, it became important.

Mentally I didn't view myself as a cyclist.  And I believed that others saw me as weak on the bike as well.  This became a vicious cycle.  I am a weak cyclist therefore I will not bike well and not be able to run well off the bike.

Finally a friend of mine grabbed my shoulders and shook some sense into me.  "STOP saying you are not a good cyclist!"  She pointed out all the times when I held my own in races and yes, we can all work on the swim/ bike/ run.  But to keep telling myself that I'm not good... well, that's not good.

Hours after finishing Ironman Arizona in November I sat down with my coach for a planning session.  I felt I had done a pretty good job of giving up the reigns and trusting in the process over the year.  But I am still type A, and a control freak to boot, and I just needed to know how we were going to get the job done.  What do we need to do for me to get stronger on the bike, so I can run to my ability?  Having been through a solid 8 weeks at that point with the power meter, including several races, she was able to see where I as lacking.  She outlined a plan of attack beginning with a few weeks of unstructured off season, followed by a periodized cycling block.  I had a plan in hand.  Now it was time to execute.

Off season seemed sooo long when in fact it was only a few short weeks.  I was looking forward to May and wanted to feel like I was working toward my ultimate goal.  I fretted that 6 months was not enough time if I was only biking 2 hours and running easy.  And I had gained a few pounds in the off season making me feel even more unfit.  Eventually the training plan started to look a little more organized but I still felt like I was under-training a bit.  I was getting plenty of sleep and my days off of work often included good chunks of time during which I could get stuff done around the house or at Cadence.

Then my workouts seemed to pick up steam.  I was assigned to do some group rides which at first were intimidating because I chose a group in another area of the valley and I was unfamiliar with the routes.  Eventually I found a local bike shop group- a fun group of guys that would challenge me yet were social and seemed to genuinely look out for each other.  I started looking forward to the group rides and being able to push myself outside the comfort zone.

Trainer rides have taken on a life of their own.  I will admit, there have been many a 4-letter-word shouted in the heat of the moment, and more than one tear shed in a tough set.  But I can feel myself getting stronger which makes pushing through the efforts just a little bit easier and so much more rewarding.  Instead of crying, I grit my teeth and shout BRING IT ON!  (Seriously, talking to myself... out loud.... rest of the house is sleeping.... )

Now I am in full on cycling overload block.  I am literally living on the bike.  Trainer rides.  Long rides.  Hills.  Flats in aero.  Two a days.  More trainer work.  Long rides followed by long rides.  I managed to fit 300 miles into a 5 day stretch while still holding down 8 hours of sleep at night and 2 jobs.  There is light at the end of the tunnel.  In less than 2 weeks I leave for a week long Team HPB camp in Tucson and then 3 weeks after that is the first race of the season.

At the last couple of group rides I've had at least one person ask me about my training and then ask me if cycling is my strength.  At first I brushed it off and said, no, I was working on my weakness.  But after the second or third person to ask, I thought 'what do they see that I'm not seeing?'  And I realized, my weakness is no longer a weakness.  I CAN ride a bike.  And I can do it well.  And I am still getting better.  We are only seeing the tip of the iceberg here which is so, so exciting.  

This is all going to be here before I know it.  I've been working on my mental preparation.  Getting my mind in the right place going into Texas is going to be key.  I want this so badly that I can taste it and I can't let that be a distraction.  If I allow my mind to wander into that post-race Kona rolldown ceremony and I hear Mike Reilly call my name I actually get choked up and have goosebumps.  The only other time I can remember wanting something so badly was before my first Boston qualifier.  I need to be focused but not emotional.  I cannot think about the outcome, only the process.  I know exactly what I need to do to get to where I want to go.  The work is being done daily.

I am reminded of something that I read a while back about the result I'm aiming for in the process of training.  

"Bulletproof is a state of mind backed up by a training regimen that has pushed you beyond your perceived limits and has targeted the event you're attempting to run.  Your goal after passing through the training gauntlet is to emerge bulletproof."  Gary Dudley, Ultrarunning Magazine.

I can't help but feel, day after day, that I am building my coat of armor and planning my attack.  I am making myself bulletproof.  At just the right moment, I will wage my battle.

Ironman Wisconsin: Uncovering Truth

Wednesday
I climb into bed, the sharp ache of the effort gone leaving only the emptiness of fatigue throughout my body.  The darkness surrounds me and doubt creeps into my mind.  I break the silence.

Me:  Do you think I'm wasting my time?

Him:  (long pause)  Let me ask you a question.  Is this what you really want? 

Me: Yes, I

Him:  Are you willing to keep working?  

Me:  YES, I 

Him:  Are you tired of it?  Do you have a passion for it or has that worn off?

Me:  No!  I really want it.  I will do anything I have to do.  I knew going into this that it was going to be a 2-3 year process.  I'm OK with that.  But... what if I can't?  What if I never get any stronger on the bike?  

Him:  You will.  But it doesn't matter.  Look at it this way, you don't have to be a Meredith.  You can be a Rinny. You don't have to be the fastest one on the bike.  You have to be as strong as you can possibly be so that you can run to your potential.  That is how you will win.

A quote from my coach's recent public speaking engagement runs through my mind as it does now almost daily.  If you're willing to keep showing up longer, and again and again and again, after everyone else has given up ...you'll get to where you want to go.    

Contemplating the road ahead.

Tuesday
I sit on the rickety spin bike with almost no load on the flywheel.  My legs turn the crank and my calves remind me of the effort 36 hours past.  My Garmin 510 is in my hand and I am flipping through my bike ride for the first time.  I scroll through the splits, divided into 4 neat segments of the 112 mile course.  In my mind I know the truth before my coach has to tell me.  This isn't going to cut it.  If I want to get to Kona one day I am going to have to get stronger on the bike.  I upload the file onto my phone, take a deep breath and email the data to my coach.  Is it wrong that I'm almost embarrassed to send her this information?  I am relying on her to help me get stronger, but having no prior power data to speak of, this is my first test.  And I feel like I've failed.  I know this is a stepping stone, and I keep reminding myself this is a process.  I cannot be impatient.  I have to be present every moment.  Do the work.  Keep chipping away at the proverbial rock.  Never give up.

Reenactment of the proposal.

5 years ago we got engaged at this finish line.

Monday
She calls me in the afternoon to deconstruct.  I have been napping and now we're getting ready for dinner.  We talk about the positives from the race.  I tell her it probably didn't look like anything special on paper, but there was a lot of good stuff.  I felt super strong in the swim.  I had an opportunity right at the beginning, literally 5 minutes before the gun, to affirm my commitment to my plan.  He wanted me to line up closer to the buoy.  You're strong, swim with the main pack.  No, I said.  I have to stick with my plan.  I lined up far right to avoid the pack and a subsequent panic attack in the first 200 meters.  My plan worked, I had smooth sailing all the way to the first turn buoy which I reached with the front pack.  

I admitted, the bike ride crushed me.  So many people passed me in the first loop like I was standing still.  I felt like I maintained my effort and kept my pace consistent for the second loop, but I was hurting.  I definitely felt the effort.  But, I didn't get negative and stayed present.  I would not let my mind turn on me.  I remained positive and though I cursed at those shitty, rutted farm roads MANY times, I didn't let the thoughts remain.  I verbalized, took a deep breath, and pedaled on.  We confirmed that I need to take in more calories on the bike, but now that we know what works, we can up the intake.

I fought back on the run.  Despite a bad patch in the middle, I fought back and finished my final 10k strong.  This was a first.  Generally once I've fallen off, my pace continues to slide.  But I was using this race as practice.  Even though I knew my pace was well below the leaders in my age group, I still used other athletes on course to work off of.  I didn't want them passing me.  I fought to stay with them when they did.  This is important work for my progress as an athlete and necessary for me to see that I CAN make myself run hard even when it doesn't feel good.  This was my most important piece of the puzzle.

Sunday
140.6 miles:  11 hours, 49 minutes, 45 seconds

Ironman Wisconsin 2014 Finish

26.2 mile run:  4 hours, 24 minutes, 59 seconds.

Ironman Wisconsin 2014 Finish Chute

Mile 139.9.  The guy I've been back and forth with all day catches up to me again on State Street.  We congratulate each other briefly as he passes me on the way to the finish line.  He's a graduate student in physics at the University of Wisconsin.  His fiance is on the east coast and couldn't be here to see him finish his first Ironman.  His friends are here and he is in good form.  He'll be fine.  I climb the final hill to the capital.  I make the final lap around the capital listening to Mike Reilly's voice.  When I hear my name, I raise my arms in victory and smile for what feels like the first time all day.  I smile in relief because I'm done and I can stop running now.

Mile 133.4.  I'm walking up the hill at Observatory Drive.  In one hand I have a cup of salty potato chips.  In the other hand I have a double shot of Coke.  I keep telling myself, the race starts at mile 20 of the marathon.  I have to pick it back up.  I had been running strong for the first half, but somewhere along the way my energy dipped.  I have been trying to get back in front of my calories now for several miles.  This is it.  There's another girl in Smashfest coming the other way.  I will not let her pass me.  I pick up my pace a little bit and force my aching legs into the effort.  At every aid station I grab a little bit of calories.  Another Honey Stinger gel.  A cup of Coke.  Perform.  Chicken broth.  Keep the fluids coming.  Pretty soon, my legs begin to respond and recognize my pace.  It hurts just a little bit less and I pick it up a little bit more.

Ironman Wisconsin 2014 Run Course

Mile 128.4.  I'm heading toward the Camp Randall Stadium for the second time.  I'm still feeling good but not quite the same as my first 8 miles.  My mind knows I'm too far off pace but this is my opportunity to practice racing.  I keep running.  I see him coming from the other direction.  He doesn't look good.  He's wobbly and staggers a little bit to my side of the road.  He's been puking for hours.  I tell him there's an aid station around the corner.  Go there, rest, and get some calories and fluids.  He tells me he's dropping out.  I keep running.

Mile 120.4.  My mind and my body are reeling.  I have zero recollection of hills on this run course.  I feel like I've been slapped in the face.  A rude awakening.  With the gradual climb through the neighborhood, and the several steeper climbs, I am feeling every ounce of effort.  I stick to my plan taking in gel at regular intervals and water at every aid station.  My stomach has been solid all day affirming that my new hydration/ nutrition plan on the bike works.  But why didn't I remember these hills?

Ironman Wisconsin 2014 Run Course

T2.  I'm so happy to be off the bike.  I can't wait to start running.  I dump the contents of my  transition bag on the floor.  I slip into my running shoes, grab my race belt and visor and run out the door.  2 minutes 9 seconds.

112 mile bike:  6 hours, 17 minutes, 3 seconds.

Mile 82.4.  Almost there, almost there, almost there.  I keep telling myself this so that I don't lose focus.  I am counting down the miles till I'm back on the stick heading toward the finish.  The roads on the course are brutal.  Jarring.  My body is trashed from bracing against every pothole and rut in the road.  My bike feels like it's falling to pieces.  My xlab has completely slipped, that happened in the first 20 miles.  My derailleur which was nice and quiet at the beginning of the ride now resists changing gears and is making a lot of noise with the effort.  There are still people passing me, just not as fast now.  And I am passing a few people back.  That feels pretty good.  My energy levels are stable.  My mind is clear and focused.  I am getting this done.

Ironman Wisconsin 2014 Bike Course

Mile 32.4.  I can't think about how far I have left to go.  I have to stay in the moment.  One down side of being a good swimmer and an average cyclist is that I am literally getting passed by everyone.  I take a deep breath and keep going.  I have to race my race.  Keep my head in the game.  My watch beeps to remind me when to eat.  I stick to my plan.

T1.  I swam under an hour.  I swam under an hour!  Confirming my progress wasn't a fluke, and sticking with my plan at the start line was the right decision.  I swam under an hour.  How long is this freaking transition?  I am spinning up the helix and into the change tent.  The volunteer is trying to be all calm and taking her time.  I throw my bag on the floor, not even bothering to sit down.  I strap my helmet on, grab my shoes and sunglasses and run out the exit.  I holler thanks! over my shoulder as the volunteer is explaining how she'll pack up everything for me.  I'm gone before she can finish her thought.   5 minutes 40 seconds.

2.4 mile swim:  59 minutes, 54 seconds.

Ironman Wisconsin 2014 Swim Exit

Mile 1.9.  I am going nowhere.  Am I going nowhere?  Why do I feel like I'm swimming in place?  Since making the final turn toward shore I have hit some type of current and literally am swimming upstream.  I kick a little harder.  I try to pick up my turnover.  I can see the exit I just don't feel like I am getting any closer.

Mile 0.8.  This is freaking awesome!  I look to my left as I breathe and I am with the front pack as I converge with them on the first turn buoy.  I feel fantastic.  So strong.  My turnover is perfect, I am swimming a straight line.  Is it possible to get a runner's high while swimming?

Mile 0.0.  The national anthem is playing.  We have 5 minutes till the start.  He encourages me to move closer to the actual start buoy.  Swim with the main pack.  You're a strong swimmer.  I shake my head.  I think back to Texas.  I don't have time to explain all the thoughts running through my head right now.  There's no time.  I have to stick to my plan.  *BOOM*  The cannon sounds.

T minus 3 hours.  My alarm beeps.  It's race day.  

The capitol building in Madison, WI.  Backdrop for the IM Moo finish.

    

 

Wrapping Up

Summer in the Valley of the Sun is the same and different from everywhere else in the country.  In most areas summer marks the season of vacation, of travel, of time off from school and more time with family.  In Arizona especially, people look for a reason to abandon the heat for a week or a long weekend.  For those of us without children and with full time jobs here in Arizona, there is less vacation and more of a "hibernation".  Either hibernation inside an air-conditioned building or as a triathlete, lots of long solo hours of training since everyone else is indoors.  Summer is about putting your head down and getting the training done in the hot, endlessly sunny conditions.  There are no races to speak of because no one wants to race when it's over 100 degrees at 7 am.  So between June and September everyone goes into hiding.  Myself included.  Only this summer, I've been holed up in my own little world trying to balance work and training and sleep.  I have been working my ass off, and loving every second of the training, pushing myself to new limits.

As summer wraps up and I am a mere 3 days away from the start of the fall racing season, I can look back over the last few months and see the progress I've made.  It's been a busy summer.  It seems like forever ago, when in reality it was 9 weeks ago when I was running across the Golden Gate Bridge.  And 6 weeks since I ran through the woods in Tahoe.  4 weeks since I was in Canada crewing for Ultraman.  And the week after Ultraman I raced the Mountain Man Half IM in Flagstaff.  Rather than recount every detail of Mountain Man, I thought I would share the recap I gave my coach in my workout log:

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For starters, I have been feeling really good physically.  Nothing more than what I would consider normal soreness which is great given my last 4 weeks of bonus activities.  The last night in Canada I only got 4 hours of sleep because the awards banquet lasted until after 11 pm and I had an early flight .... I know better for next time.  That set me up for a rough week because I was only getting 6-7 hours of sleep for the rest of the week.  

So waking up on Sunday morning, my brain felt like it was ripped out of a deep sleep (I'm usually always awake when my alarm goes off no matter how early).  I immediately felt nauseated and a little headache from not enough sleep.  The nausea lasted until I started the swim.  At one point in transition, I was kinda hoping I would get sick so I'd have an excuse not to race.  I'm glad that I didn't because it turned out to be a GREAT training day for me. 

Mountain Man is a really small event, and I'm generally trying to compete more with the men than the women, especially when there's not a lot of fast girls that show up.  AF told me in the morning that it would be my race to lose. 

I took off fast in the swim to gain a little separation from the group.  DB said by the first turn buoy (maybe 300 yrds?) I had two body lengths lead over JP (I think you met her?)  in second, and then dropped her shortly after the turn.  She was 2 minutes back coming out of the water.  I didn't push the swim after the first turn buoy, knowing I'd want a little oxygen in my legs when I hit the bike.  I was happy to come out of the water in 29:23 since I know I could have swum a lot harder, and there were only two boys who swam faster.  And I was 2 minutes faster than last year. 

On the bike, I pushed as much of the flats/ downhills as I could.  On the uphills, I switched to an easy gear to spin but kept my effort consistent.  I ended up passing a lot of guys on the ups.  We had some horrific crosswinds in the final 15 or so miles.  Normally wind is my kryptonite, but I just remembered what you told me months ago- and I was seriously talking to myself out loud... Keep my rear in the saddle, and my weight in the aero bars....  By focusing on that I didn't get freaked out, and was able to stay aero and just go with it.  Came off the bike in about 2:56, 5 minutes faster than last year.

It's really hard to compare this run course to other half im's.  Clearly, I ran no where near my "normal" half IM run pace for something like Oceanside.  But this course is a lot harder, and at elevation so I try to just compare to previous years.  I have always blown up on this run course.  At 1.5 miles in, there is a 1.5 mile switchback that you climb, turn around and descend, and then the final 9 miles are slightly rolling hills (no crazy hills, if you were just out for an easy run you might not even notice that you're going uphill).  This year, I made a conscious effort not to go out crazy in the first mile and half.  I got my run legs under me, took the hill comfortably and then when I got to the top, I picked up the effort a little.  When I hit the final 9 miles, I was pretty much spot on 9 minute miles for the rest of the course, which for me is a HUGE improvement in pacing.  I looked at my splits from last year, and in the final 5 miles I lost 10-15 seconds per mile.  This year, even when I was feeling bad, I was still able to push myself and hold onto my pace.  I think I was a little slower than last year overall pace, but the course was also a half mile longer than last year and I haven't looked at the pace on my garmin yet so not exactly sure.  But this is the BEST I've ever run on this course performance-wise.  And I was reeling in guys every mile.  (Ran 2:02 for 13.6 miles),  finished 16th out of 92 people:  5:32:07 (this is decent for me on this course, not my fastest.)

So... although I'm happy with the win, I'm most happy about my improvements from last year on the swim/ bike and how I did on the run.  I think it really showed me what is going to be required of me on the run course at ironman, and that when I feel like shit, I CAN still hold onto that effort.  There were so many times when I wanted to stop and walk and I refused to let myself do that.  Plus, I felt like my nutrition/ hydration plan on the bike really contributed to how I felt on the run - I came off the bike feeling fantastic (nutrition/ hydration-wise)  and just held onto that through the run-- staying diligent with my plan.  

First place Eagle trophy!  My teammate got the Bear for the men's title. 

And as much as I wanted another bear trophy, I decided that the eagle was more appropriate.  The eagle is a bird of prey, and from now on, I am a predator.  I will be the hunter until I have captured my prey.  

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The next weekend I biked Mt. Lemmon with a friend and finally stopped to take a photo at the sign I've wanted a pic of for the last 3 years:

Ha!  Middle Bear!  That's me!

Made a few upgrades to my bike! 

New Powertap!  Thanks Wheelbuilder.com!

Don't mind the sleeping kitten...

And who doesn't love kittens??  My babies are 19 weeks old.  They are finished with their kitten vaccines, and breezed through their neuters with flying colors.  From here on out it's cuddling, sleeping, eating, and entertaining everyone around them!

Blackie and Moo birdwatching.

Looking forward to my first race of the season in a few days, I am relaxed and confident.  I believe in my training, I believe in my coach and I believe in the work we've done over the last 8 months.  I know exactly what it will take for me to achieve my goal.  In a word:  Everything.  It will take absolutely every ounce of energy, every bit of focus, and every last thread of effort for me to do what my heart so desires.  I am not the most talented, but I like to think I have that little something extra.  The sheer will to accomplish the impossible.  

In my mind I know that when I signed on with Team HPB in January, I committed to a 2-3 year process to achieve my goal.  But in my heart I want it so badly it hurts.  The only other time I have felt this way about a goal was in 2009 when I was running to qualify for my first Boston Marathon.  Only this time, I don't control the outcome.  For Boston, there is a time goal.  I hit the time, I qualify.  For this race (affectionately known in my circle as "That Which Shall Not Be Named"), it is all dependent on who shows up on race day.  First place punches the golden ticket.  Everyone else stands in line and hopes there is an extra slot available at the end of the day.  If I give everything I have and execute the best race of my life, it still might not be good enough.  That is the toughest pill to swallow.  

I am committed to the process regardless of what happens on Sunday and am staying focused on the long term plan.  Sunday marks the 5 year anniversary of my engagement to my wonderful husband.  He has supported me all summer (year!) long and has driven me to and from both races in Flagstaff (I hate driving!!), been an awesome cheerleader and sherpa, and has encouraged me through all my ups and downs.  He was with me in Napa when I qualified for Boston, he's run Boston with me twice, and he knows the deepest desires of my heart.  I know on Sunday he will be with me from start to finish.  Regardless of my placement when I cross the finish line on Sunday, we will be celebrating.          

  

Vegas Marathon Run-Through Wedding Ceremony.  Where else would we get married?  

Taking Aim

A year ago I made some bold predictions for my Ironman Arizona race.  Those predictions were based on workouts that I had executed in training, a dash confidence, and a sprinkling of a dream.

I am positive that some read my predictions which I posted 12 hours before the start of the race, and thought I was absolutely crazy.  Egocentric.  Overconfident.  There was no way that I, a 12 1/2 hour IM finisher, should cut over an hour off my previous best time.  And when I executed the race of my dreams, no one was more surprised than me.  I told myself over and over and over for 6 straight months that I could do it.  I made myself believe.  And because I believed, I was able to see it through.

This year, I don't have that confidence.  I haven't believed in myself.  In my potential.  But ironically, today I pulled my training log from a year ago and compared it to now.  Guess what I found?  My key workouts were executed in exactly the same time as a year ago. 

Leading up to IMAZ 2012, I swam my final 10x 200 on 2:53, and my 3 x 1000 on 14:30.  This year, I swam my 10 x 200s on 2:50 and my 3 x 1000 on 14:25. 

Leading up to IMAZ 2012, I biked my final 100 miler in 5:30, and my last long ride (73 miles) in 4:01 with a 4 mile T-run in 34 minutes.  This year I biked my final 100 miler in 5:27 and my last long ride (77 miles) in 4:07 with a 4 mile T-run in 33 minutes.

Leading up to IMAZ 2012, I ran my final two 20 milers in 3:17 and 3:06.  This year I ran my final two 20 milers in 3:07. 

Sitting at my desk my jaw slowly dropped.  There's no way....  But there is.  And it's staring me in the face.  The difference between then and now is that now I know I CAN do it.  Last year, it was a dream.  A goal.  This year, it's a reality waiting to be repeated. 

Last year I was calm and focused.  I was ready.  This year I'm frazzled, and I'm nervous.  I can't sleep.  I'm anxious.  And I am terrified.  This is not necessarily a bad thing... I just need to channel that energy and make it useful on race day. 

One of my favorite quotes goes something like this...

'When you want to be successful at something as badly as you want to breathe when someone is holding your head underwater, then you will be successful.  You must want it with every fiber of your being.' 

In 9 days when I am treading water in Tempe Town Lake waiting for the cannon to sound, I will close my eyes, blinking back tears, and tell myself "this is my race."  I will think of the words of the song that have gotten me through tough times in training.  Bulletproof.  Nothing to lose.  Fire away. Fire away.  Ricochet.  You take your aim.  Fire away. Fire away.  Shoot me down.  But I won't fall.  I am titanium.  It was the song that played a year ago, while I was treading water and it got into my blood.  It made sense to me.  I embraced it's power. 

I won't make predictions on my splits this year.  I don't want to limit myself.  But triathlon is not a private activity.  People are watching.  And I'm going to show them what it's like to want something.