Oceanside 70.3

In racing, you have to take the bad with the good.  If I ever had a "perfect" race I think I would quit the sport because there would no longer be a challenge.  There is always something to learn.  At Oceanside this year, I learned plenty!

We started our drive on Thursday night after work, hoping to break it up a bit and arrive a little fresher on Friday morning.  We spent the night in Blythe and hit the road at 7 am on Friday bound for the harbor.  When we arrived in Oceanside I pulled Hope off the bike rack only to find her rear brake dangling.  Between the camp in Tucson (can you say "shitty road surface??") and the windy conditions on the drive the bolt had loosened up.

DB offered to take her over to the Dimond booth at the race expo while I got my shake out run done.  By the time I met him there she was fixed up and ready to roll.  We went through packet pickup and I sat down for a quick meeting with my coach before heading out for an easy spin to make sure everything was good to go.  After an early dinner we set up our race gear and fell into bed.

Hanging with Dimond athlete Maik Twelsiek.

Race morning:

Alarm sounds.  I get up and immediately want to lie back down.  I don't get headaches often, but when I do they are NO fun.  I was dizzy, nauseated, and my head was splitting.  I wish I could blame race anxiety but I couldn't even begin to get nervous about the race I felt too awful. I forced myself to do my pre-race routine got into my kit and put sunscreen on.  I tried my best to eat, but every single bite caused me to gag.  I was able to sip on a little bit of water but decided to just pop some ibuprofen and close my eyes until it was time to go.

After setting up in transition, I nibbled on my breakfast and over the hour I had to kill once the race started I actually got most of it down along with a bottle of Osmo Pre Load.  I realized in my fog I forgot my bike bottles in the fridge in the condo, but I still had my aero bottle so no harm done- plenty of aid stations along the course to refill, I just wouldn't have my Osmo.  By the time I got in the water the ache was down to a dull roar and I was no longer dizzy.

I kinda like the swim at Oceanside.  I HATE starting in the back, being a female of 35-39 years my wave is nearly dead last... but I do find it a fun challenge to see how many groups of swimmers I can pass in 1.2 miles.  The morning was foggy, and the water was a little choppier than usual which added to the challenge of sighting and passing swimmers.  The first half I was with another girl in my age group, nearly side-by-side, but once we made the turn to come back I never saw her again.  We had a massive tail current on the way in and I was flying by people!  I exited the water 1st in my age group in 29:19, a new PR for the half IM distance.  Maybe in Galveston I will break 29 minutes!!

The bike ride is much like the swim.  Since I start in the back, I spend the entire ride dodging and weaving around people.  It seemed very windy to me and hence there was a lot of drafting going on as no one wanted to fight the winds alone.  DB even saw someone get the red card (for drafting) which was a first for him!

I felt decent enough on the bike ride.  I was keeping the effort on, and had a certain wattage I was trying to stay above (which I did!).  There are a few hills in the middle of the course to break things up a bit, and new for this year-- timing mats on dead-man's curve.  Anyone timed going over 25 mph in that stretch would be automatically DQ'd.  I understand the purpose, but it was really tough to keep it under 25 mph!!  I came off the bike in 2:53:37.

Despite my efforts to get calories in on the bike, I knew coming into T2 I was down a little on energy thanks to my nearly non-existent breakfast.  Since starting with Coach Hillary one thing we work on constantly is getting calories in early to keep energy levels up on the run.  I was pissed that this was not going to be my best race simulation for Texas as I had already forgotten my Osmo, and didn't eat enough pre-race and on the bike.

That said, I was on a mission.  In my pre-race meeting, Hillary reminded me of a few things that were particularly relevant to the run.  First, she reminded me that the first race of the season you often forget how hard it is and how badly you're going to feel.  It's easy to think, I'm fitter, this should hurt less... but it's the exact opposite.  After putting in huge blocks of training, you are fitter... which just means that you're in a position to push HARDER which hurts MORE.  She also reminded me of my Thursday morning interval work and encouraged me to chase that feeling the whole way on the run... be on the edge of failure the whole way.  She told me that my bike fitness was where it needed to be, that I could handle this.  Not to be afraid.  Not to back off.

Coming out of T2 I had a pocket full of honey stingers and a mind full of determination.  I saw Hillary and two of my Team HPB teammates around 1.5 miles in and they gave me the news that I was in 4th after the bike ride.  My goal of podium was well within reach.

The run course is very gradual inclines/ declines with a mile or so of flat along the strand each loop.  I kept the effort consistent and monitored my overall pace with each mile.  I took 4 gels in the first 8 miles!  Chasing that brink I constantly felt like my legs were about to give out, that at any moment bonk would ensue.  I got a little boost around mile 6 when I passed a girl in my age group, moving into 3rd temporarily.

Heading into the second loop I kept the pressure on and was surprised to see that I felt the same... not worse.  Usually I start to fall apart at this point and lose huge chunks of time to the girls chasing me.  When I ran out of honey stingers I switched to coke at every aid station.  Around mile 9 I got passed by another girl, and though I didn't know if she was in her second loop I assumed that she was.  I tried my best to keep her in sight hoping maybe I could sprint her to the finish.  But she was moving quicker than I was and by the time we hit the strand for the final mile I could not see her anywhere.

In the final mile I tried to pick up the pace a bit, wanting to be sure I held onto my 4th place finish.  Most of the people out there were heading into the second loop so when the finish chute appeared I was able to run it alone (no sprinting involved!).  I finished with a 1:45:46 half marathon to land me on the podium in 4th place for my age group.  First goal for 2015 accomplished!

35-39 years Age Group Podium

 My time of 5:16:02 was far from a PR at this race, but I attribute the slower time to the race day conditions.  That said, it was by far my best performance at this race.  I got lucky the past couple of years to land in the top 6, but this year I earned my podium spot.  I executed the race I planned.

4th Place!!

So back to what I learned at Oceanside:

1.  When you feel like shit, it's OK.  It might get worse, but it can always get better!  Don't quit before giving yourself a chance.

2.  Roll with the punches.  Yes, I panicked a little when my brake was hanging by a cable, but I had more than enough time and more than enough people to help fix it.  (Note:  arrive early!!)  And, yes, I would have liked to practice my fueling/ hydration strategy for Texas, but when I forgot my bottles of Osmo in the fridge I didn't pack up and leave.  I drank water instead.  (duh!)

3.  In the words of country artist, Jason Aldean:  Don't stop till everything's gone.  Straight ahead, never turn around.  Don't back up, don't back down!  Full throttle, wide open.  You get tired, but you don't show it.  Dig a little deeper when you think you can't dig no more.  That's the only way I know!  Never back down.  Push the edge the whole way.  Trust your training.

4.  I'm so glad I'm racing Galveston in 3 weeks.  I didn't get the opportunity to practice my planned hydration/ nutrition strategy, and I'm super excited to have another shot at nailing in the run effort!  Now that I know my bike fitness can support this... it's a whole new world!!

Little recovery ride on Sunday.  Love my Dimond!!

And lastly, I have been meaning to talk about my new gem!  I have had tons of questions about the bike.  Do I like it?  Is it hard to ride?  How is it different from my old bike?  Is it faster?  Everyone seems just a little bit intimidated by the beam, and unsure how stable it is.  Here are my thoughts...

- I LOVE this bike.
- It is SO comfortable.
- And yet super light and aerodynamic (read: FAST)
- It is not the slightest bit scary or intimidating.  The minute I threw my leg over the beam and hopped on it was like, oh yeah, this is home.  I don't even notice that I'm on a beam.  It doesn't flex, I don't bounce.  It is solid as a rock.
- I loved my Trek Speed Concept... but the Dimond... well, it is nothing short of amazing.
- I LOVE di2!!  I know there is some controversy over whether electronic shifting is reliable, but let me tell you... it is revolutionary.
- The braking system is amazing.  I've never had a bike that was so easy to adjust, so flexible in so many ways.
- When I took my gem to Cyclologic for my fit they were beyond excited... with the Dimond we have so much room to play with and adjust everything just so.  There were limitations with the Trek that we don't have with this bike.  That means I'm more aerodynamic AND more comfortable because my body is in a better position.

I would love to answer any specific questions you might have about the Dimond... so please comment on this post if there's anything you're dying to know!!  Dimond is going to be at quite a few races this year so I encourage you to take one for a test ride!

 

Cycling Camp

"Cycling overload phase begins this weekend!"

My training log brightly pronounced on January 26.  I had watched other teammates go through "run camp" and "swim camp" and wondered what exactly was involved in this, and why wasn't I going through camp?  Now I was going to get some first hand knowledge as I entered my very own cycling camp.

I embraced the training and the ability to get stronger and faster for Ironman Texas which is quickly approaching!!  Right away, my group ride got rained out and I ended up with a 3 hour trainer ride full of big gear intervals and things that immediately made me wish for death upon myself.  I pronounced that I hoped it never rained again as I would much rather be out chasing fast boys down than killing myself on the trainer.  Either way, it hurt.

My new bike getting set up by the pros at Cyclologic.

The weeks flew by and I began to notice improvement.  Even though after the second week I was in a constant state of muscle fatigue, I was getting stronger on the climbs, and faster on the flats.  Between work, second work, and moving I had zero time to do anything but train and sleep.  And I am sleeping like a rock.  Like the dead.  I can literally feel myself healing during my 8 hours of rest at night.  I crawl into bed full of aches and pains and wake up feeling like I could do it all over again the next day.  And I did.

The Dimond.  My gem.  

With fatigue building I began looking for a light at the end of the tunnel.  And then, I tipped over the brink.  After a weekend of 300 bike miles, followed by another couple of long rides I awoke to THE HARDEST WORKOUT EVER.  On paper, it seemed rather simple.  Without going into specifics of the workout, I had to hold a prescribed pace on the treadmill and throw in some climbing intervals.  The pace was relentless.  One I would have trouble sustaining on a good day, let alone when my legs are absolutely trashed.  The climbing intervals weren't so bad, but when you come down off the hill and expect recovery only to realize the pace wasn't slowing at all.... it was all I could do to stay upright.  I prayed that if I were to fall off the treadmill backwards at least someone would have the decency to catch it on video.

I didn't fall off the back of the treadmill.  It took every ounce of effort and self control not to adjust the pace in the final 20 minutes, or step onto the rails for a quick break.  I knew if I did I would only be cheating myself.  No one cares about my training except me.  No once cares if I qualify for Kona except me.  And on race day, when I am falling apart and want to quit, I will remember this workout and KNOW that I can do anything.

After the HARDEST WORKOUT EVER I slowed the treadmill to a walk and tried to catch my breath.  Once my heart rate recovered I stepped off the 'mill slowly cause I was sure I was going to fall over, and wandered/ staggered over to the stretching area.  I laid down on a mat and just stared at the ceiling.  I didn't even have the energy to stretch.  Several people asked if I was OK.  I must have looked as bad as I felt.  Then when I arrived at work an hour later, I could not stand for the duration of my first 2 hours worth of appointments.  I ended up sitting on the floor with the dogs after their exams were finished.  Thankfully in my profession this is acceptable, and often appreciated as bonding with my patients.

Her inaugural ride!

A few days later I saw the workout log updated for the following week.  March 2nd declared "3-4 days easy to let the work sink in and get ready to hurt self at camp!"  Hurt self at camp.  Hurt. self. at. camp.  I was already hurting and now it was going to get a billion times worse.  I easily conjured memories of the pain inflicted at last year's Team HPB camp.  I kept telling myself, just get through Saturday... you've got a trail run on Sunday and then camp taper.  Just get through Saturday.

I made it through Saturday which ended up being a brutal long ride through some horrific headwinds, crosswinds and not enough tail wind.  I was so looking forward to running my favorite trail on Sunday morning.  The plan was for my husband to bike out to the park and meet me so that when my run was over we'd hit the bikes for 2 more hours and then grab lunch.  As I was driving to the park on Sunday morning he called me... "did you remember the duathlon is going on this morning?"  Shit!  I had completely forgotten and though I had so been looking forward to my favorite trail I knew the parking situation was going to be a mess and I had no intention of competing for space on the trail with the racers.

Climbing Pass Mountain

I was already in the car driving and made a last second decision to head to Usery Mountain instead.... the hardest trail in my repertoire with almost 3k of climbing in an equal number of miles.  I wanted to cry.  I knew how hard this trail is on a good day... The run itself went fine.  Despite the grueling terrain, Pass Mountain is one of my favorite trails because it's quiet and the scenery is gorgeous.  The weather was overcast so I only encountered 5 other people in the first 75 minutes.

Enjoying the views.

My husband was waiting in the parking lot of the trailhead when I finished.  I sat down in the car and began pseudo-crying (whining, but no actual tear production).  I was so tired.  My legs were so fatigued.  I just wanted to take a nap, and not go get on the bike for 2 hours.  I was just beyond that point of exhaustion.

I went through the motions of getting my bike kit on and ready to ride.  We headed out and for the first 45 minutes or so I felt OK.  Then I progressively got more and more tired.  And my husband accused me of soft pedaling.  And I went off.  Screaming.  Crying.  I AM NOT SOFT PEDALING!  IF YOU CAN'T SEE THAT I'M WORKING...  and on and on and on.  I'm certain he was A) thinking I was completely nuts and B) contemplating divorce in that moment.  But instead he tried to make me laugh.  Which made me want to cry even more.

Beautiful morning for a brutal trail run!

From that moment on, our ride was all uphill.  And for many miles, uphill into a headwind.  I struggled through every single mile until we turned into the park.  And then I struggled a few more miles back to the car.  I have never been so glad to be done with a workout.  And I really believe that had I been able to do the trail run that I had so been looking forward to I wouldn't have fallen apart the way I did.  It was a difference in expectation versus reality.  Something I'm going to have to learn how to manage on race day because not everything is going to go perfectly.

I have appreciated a couple of easy days and look forward to heading to Team HPB Camp tomorrow afternoon.  It's going to be a hard week of training though I am hoping to see the fruits of my last 4 weeks.  One more week and my cycling overload phase is completed!  Despite the fatigue, I am feeling ready and excited for the start of race season.  I believe in myself in a way that I did not before.  I am stronger than I've ever been, and am continuing to improve.  2015 is MY year!

When I need a reminder that all is good in the world...  My boys.  

Finding Kona: Arizona Edition

This is a story without a beginning.  It is a story without an end.  It is a story about hope and triumph.  It is a story about picking yourself back up when you fall short.  Again.  It is a story about finding the one thing that makes your blood race, and makes you want to get out of bed at 4 am.  Every. single. day.  This is a story about finding Kona.

Are you familiar with this story?  I feel like I've written it before.  The details change.  The characters in the story change.  The setting is a little bit different.  But the ending is unchanged.  Isn't the ending of a good book or movie what keeps you coming back for more?  Sometimes it leaves you hanging or it doesn't quite end the way you had hoped.  You read it again, or look for the sequel hoping that this time, it will be different.  Only when the ending leaves you satisfied, fulfilled, can you put the book down and walk away.  

After Ironman Wisconsin I became aware of a few things.  I need to get stronger on the bike.  I promised a friend of mine that I would not say "I am not a good cyclist".  If I was not a good cyclist, my dream would not be within reach and I should just throw my name into the lottery.  But, my bike leg is where I can make the most improvement and set myself up for the run I know I have in me.

The other thing I realized is that no one is going to hand me my dream on a silver platter.  I have to be willing to go all in every single time.  I have to be willing to make small improvements that will one day yield the result I long for.  Each time I put myself on the line and take away the "play-it-safe" card I will learn something new, something valuable that I can transfer into progress the next time around.

This version of Finding Kona takes place in my backyard playground.  I have raced Ironman Arizona a total of 6 times.  No two races are the same, and this year was no exception.  In the days leading up to the race the weather turned cool and windy.  Very windy.  It is rare to not have wind on the beeline, but the caliber of wind on race day exceeded anything we've seen since the race moved to November in 2008.

I knew I had to adjust my vision a little bit, and not try to fight the wind.  We all had to find a way to deal with it, or drop out.   Since you've read this story before I'll leave out every single detail and thought that crossed my brain during the day... and stick with the good stuff.  Since I consider this my diary more than anything, and somewhat of a race journal, I will probably bore you with details that don't matter to you... but next year when I re-read this it will spark the memory of lessons learned and remind me of what I am going to do differently.  So grab a bag of popcorn and settle in for the ride.

The Swim
So, here's the deal.  I haven't shared a lot of details about my training this year for 2 reasons.  1.  I am paying for a coach to give me workouts.  If you want someone to give you a plan, hire your own coach.  2.  I feel that her workouts are part of what make Hillary a great coach.  They are her trade secrets.  I feel it would be disrespectful to spill every detail of her assignments.  That said, the swim alone is proof of her awesomeness.  I was consistently swimming 1:01.  Every race.  For over a year.  I could swim 1:01 in my sleep.  I was convinced, as was everyone else, that I didn't need to swim any faster nor could I.  It wouldn't benefit me to swim faster.

But, what I have learned over the last 10 months is that I don't necessarily need to swim more, to swim better.  My swim workouts are equal parts torture and recovery.  I will have sessions that are 4-6k long that are designed simply to help me recover from a long, hard build.  And I can push myself hard in the pool day after day and not have it effect my bike/ run workouts.  And by following her magic day after day for months on end, it translated into my best IM swim ever.

Final kiss before the cannon.  It's our version of "good luck, be safe, see you at the finish."

I lined up as I always do, front right.  No matter how much I love swimming, and am comfortable in open water, I will NEVER get used to having the shit beat out of me.  I would much rather avoid the chaos, swim my own swim, even if it means I miss the draft for the first half.  So at swim buoy number 8, I merged my line with the main pack a couple hundred yards before the first turn.  Aside from the first 300 meters or so where I felt trapped between a couple of big guys, I had free space.  Once I was able to slide past them, it was smooth sailing.  And I cruised.

The best thing about Hillary's swim preparation is that I no longer feel any fatigue coming out of the water.  In the past, I was comfortable and swam fine, but by the end my shoulders were tired.  Tired shoulders are not how I want to start a bike ride where I spend 100% of my time in the aero bars.  This year I've had two swims at 59 minutes and change.  For some reason, before Arizona I just felt like I had a 58 in me.  Nevertheless, I was shocked to get out of the water and actually see that I had swum a 58!

Swim finish!  

Swim:  58:24

T1:  3:55
I have been spoiled the last few years to have a friend of mine volunteer in the change tent.  I am used to having her just stand by my side quietly, fend off all other volunteers, say a few words of encouragement and then pack up my shit when I leave.  This year she was not able to get into the change tent because the volunteer slots filled up quickly.  I love having the change tent volunteers, and in no way do I mean anything negative, but I have had (at other races) volunteers dump my bag out and start going through stuff which slows me down.  So as I raced into the tent I declined any offers of help, threw my shoes on as fast as I could, and took off.  I think I was about 30 seconds slower than my usual at Arizona but that may have been because some dude threw himself onto the carpet in front of me, tripping me as I was running through the wetsuit stripping area.  I might have thrown out a 4-letter word as I struggled to not hit the deck 2.4 miles into my day.

The Bike
Wind is my kryptonite.  Everyone who knows me, knows this about me.  I. hate. wind.  Some people hate heat.  Some people hate the cold.  Some people hate hills.  I hate wind.  This year I have been working hard to be more comfortable in my aero bars in the wind.  My coach has given me great advice on how to deal with it, how to position myself and maintain confidence.  I have to say, it worked and I was very comfortable on Sunday.  I still hated the wind, but I did not get blown all over the road.  I was slower.  I felt like I was going backwards at times, but I was perfectly seated square in my saddle, in aero, the entire day.

Usually the fast girls catch me near the start of the 3rd loop of the bike.  This year I expected to see them come by me a lot earlier as I suffered a flat near mile 10 and lost 5 minutes.  I've never had a flat in a race, and I have to say, it was the perfect race for it to happen.  Since I wasn't going to have my fastest bike split anyway (due to wind) I was like, oh, I have a flat.  And got to work changing it.  As I got my front wheel off the support vehicle pulled up and the guy jumped out, grabbed my wheel and started changing it for me.  Rather than fight for the right to change a flat, I took the opportunity to start eating and shoved a few pieces of a bonk breaker into my mouth.  Even the girl in the support van remarked on how calm I was.  What could I do?  Pitch a fit?  Cry because I got a flat?  Dude, I still had 100 miles to go.  There was no time for crying.

Soon enough I was back on the road.  Sometime in the 5 minutes I was on the side of the road, DB came by me.  He waited to make sure I had everything I needed and then took off up the beeline.  I tried to keep him in sight as long as I could.  The first loop seemed very lonely on the bike course.  The usual packs of cyclists were strangely absent in the wind.  Later I learned that I was 77th person out of the water which explains why I felt so alone on the bike course!

Managing the gusts on the bike.  

I kept my head down, kept shoving food in my face and kept drinking.  I have been working on increasing my calorie intake on the bike.  I have been racing on 100 calories per hour on the bike which causes me to run out of energy very early on the run course, generally 6-8 miles in.  I literally felt like I was eating non-stop during the bike ride but was very happy to report to coach on Monday that I ate 250 calories per hour on the bike!  As expected near the start of loop 3, the first fast girl came by me.  I waited and waited for more girls and never saw any.  I started to think they had passed me when I had my flat, but it turned out they were still behind me.  I guess everyone was slower in the wind than expected.  As I came upon the final 4 miles, I rode up next to my good friend and training partner CH.  'Let's get this shit done!', I shouted and we took off.  

Bike 5:45:38

T2 1:19
T2 is a blur.  I literally threw off my helmet, threw on my Newtons and carried everything in my hand as I exited the tent, putting on my race number belt and visor as I ran.

The Run
I was aiming for sub-4 hours on the marathon.  In truth I had trained for a 3:45.  Why do I put this out there?   A lot of people don't publicize their goals because one-coach-or-another told them not to.  Or because they don't want to feel bad if they don't reach their goals.  Or for a variety of different reasons.  I read once in a magazine why I shouldn't state my goals publicly, but to be honest the reasons never made any sense to me.  I've never been afraid of asking for what I want.  Obviously I don't always get it on the first try.  (Or second.  Or third.)  But one day, I am convinced I will.  And then I want EVERYONE to celebrate with me because they will know how long I have worked for this.

The run was going very smoothly.  It wasn't comfortable.  It wasn't easy.  But I was hitting my goal times.  I took the advice of Hillary and literally ran the marathon one mile at a time.  Every single mile was a new challenge.  Could I hit my time now?  OK, how about now?  And 8 miles later... now?  I was taking in calories on schedule.  I was well hydrated.  As the miles progressed I hurt more and more.

I caught up with CH around mile 11 and we fell into stride together.  We never said a word to each other, except once I think I remarked about how f**king hard this felt.  We just ran.  It was so nice to have her there as a distraction as we entered the start of the second loop.  There were athletes who were finishing the race, and we still had 12 miles to go.  We ran and ran, and she was with me when the final podium finisher in my age group passed me.  I almost felt sorry for myself for a minute, but then remembered that I still had the opportunity to make this my best run ever.

Running with my amazing training partner, CH.

We rounded the north side of the lake and soon passed Hillary near the 202 overpass.  She screamed some encouragement at me and it gave me a little boost.  Somewhere near the marina on the way back CH picked up the pace and I couldn't stay with her.  I chased her up and over Curry and back under the 202.  Soon she was out of sight.  Hillary was there again and told me I ALWAYS have another gear, even when I don't think I do.  I let those words sink in and I picked up the pace.  I repeated her words over and over in my head the final 3 miles.  I always have another gear.  I always have another gear.  Step by step by step.  As I crossed the bridge at Priest I felt like I was flying by people.  It was getting dark and I had a hard time distinguishing who was who on course.  What if there was someone in my age group up ahead?  It spurred me on to go a little faster.

Rounding the final 2 corners to the finish line were surreal.  I could hear the crowds cheering.  A couple friends jumped into the road to spur me on and in my delirium I staggered a little bit.  I heard Mike Reilly call my name, 'you are an ironman!'  And when I didn't respond, he called me out again.  I said, 'you are an ironman!!!'  I raised my hands over head as relief crossed my face and I crossed the line.  A PR by 1 minute.  But my best Ironman marathon by 14 minutes!

Run 4:03:45

The finish!!  No matter how the day goes, the finish is meant to be a celebration.

Total time:  10:53:01

The volunteers caught me (literally) and quickly delivered me into the arms of my teammates.  Hillary was there and gave me a huge hug.  I was not on the podium, but this was a big step in the right direction and I was very happy with the progress.

Hug from the boss at the finish.  

We camped out at the finish line and waited for DB to finish.  I had passed him around mile 14 of the run and he finished about 30 minutes behind me.  A few seconds behind him was another friend and training partner MT who, despite the wind, had a PR of over an hour!!  Seeing her achieve this goal was definitely the highlight of my day.  I know how hard she has worked over the last 2 years to achieve this.

Celebrating a PR with MT!!

DB curled into his usual fetal position at the finish, and with the sun down I was getting cold.  A friend KM helped me gather our bikes and gear bags and bring them back to the finish line.  We said our goodbyes and hobbled back to the hotel a half mile away.

Monday morning was chaos.  I generally don't sleep after Ironman because my body is too sore and I can't get comfortable.  This race was no exception.  We headed out to breakfast early and then over to Tempe Beach Park to talk to some friends in line for 2015 registration.  We perused the gear tent and then headed back to the hotel to pack up.  We made it back to Tempe Beach Park for the awards ceremony and Kona allocation.  Many of my TriScottsdale teammates were on the podium receiving awards and several of them are heading to Kona next fall.

My age group was awarded 3 slots.  The final slot rolled to 4th place.  I finished 6th.  I would be lying if I said this didn't sting a little.  But I do not have any regrets about my race.  I know that my day will come and when it does it will be all the sweeter for the effort I have put in.  Next stop:  Texas.

***********************************

It takes a village to compete in Ironman.  And mine is no exception.  Thank you, Hillary Biscay, for taking a chance on me and for teaching me so much in the last 10 months.  I am looking forward to 2015 and getting stronger, faster, better. The day that I stand on the podium and take my certificate to race on the Big Island will be the proudest day of my life.  I can literally taste the salty sea air, and it motivates me to work hard every day.  

Thank you to my husband, DB.  Your endless support and encouragement keep me going.  Thank you for tolerating my mood swings, the grouchiness, and my 7 pm bedtime.

Thank you to Nate and Brandon at Endurance Rehab.  I was not made to be a runner, but with your help I am.

Thank you to my Team HPB teammates.  Knowing that there are others who experience similar feelings of fear, doubt, elation, and joy makes this sport that much more enjoyable.  I love sharing this journey with all of you.  Many of you I got to know at the team camp last spring, and it has been so much fun watching each of you achieve goals over the year.  Can't wait for March!!

Thank you TriScottsdale!  Best. Support crew. EVER!  Running past your tents on the run course gave me the boost I needed to PR my run by 14 minutes.  Thank you for your support and cheerleading!!  I cannot wait to represent one day at the big dance.  I will make you proud!

Thank you to Paraic and his team at Cyclologic.  Paraic suggested some things after Ironman Texas and when I implemented them in training, and racing, they have made all the difference in the world!  He continues to amaze me with his knowledge and I am grateful to have them on my team.

And last but not least, thank you thank you THANK YOU to the BEST training partner ever!!  MP swam with me nearly every single workout since January.  She woke up extra early when I needed to swim at 4 am (and never complained once!).  She pushed me through every interval workout.  Many times I told her the splits and let her set the pace.  I knew if I could just keep up, I would hit the target.  She watches me and makes subtle suggestions- improving everything from my flip turn to my back stroke, and everything in between.  She is a brilliant swimmer and helped me improve my swim beyond what I could do alone.  You are the BEST!!!      
  

  

Ironman Texas: (Un)lucky Number 13

The Swim

Game plan:  Take it out with the strongest 500 I can manage, get rid of the riffraff and then settle into a strong, steady pace.

What actually happened:
Despite the fact that I am a decent swimmer, I do not love mass swim starts.  I don't like chaos.  I don't like drowning.  I don't like being beaten and punched in the face by men who weigh twice as much as me.  I just don't.  And I'm not going to apologize for that.  I don't think it makes me "less of an Ironman" that I prefer the rolling swim start.

As much as I wanted to get right up front and try to grab some good feet, I knew I would not be comfortable with this.  I lined up to the far right, with a straight shot to the turn buoy.  I thought I was far enough right... until the cannon went off.  Then everyone who had been standing on the shoreline jumped in on top of me.  Within 2 minutes I was in full blown panic mode.  My first thought was "Oh my god! I am the riffraff!"  And my next thought was "Get me the fuck out of here!"  I made a 90 degree turn, swam over the top of everyone who were in full on washing machine mode, and got to the outside.  The real outside this time.  And I resumed my swim.

Once I had free water, I put my head down and went to work.  Strong, steady pace.  When needed, I would pick it up for a few minutes.  Like when I had 2 guys zig-zagging across my space.  Repeatedly.  I needed to put them in my wake cause they were pissing me off.  Mission accomplished.

About half way through the swim I noticed a pain in my stomach.  I thought maybe it was because I was working at a higher effort level than I normally do in the swim.  I hoped it would go away once I got out of the water and into a rhythm on the bike.  I found myself feeling strong throughout the swim.  As I approached the final few buoys, I remember thinking that I wasn't the least bit sore in my shoulders.  All my paddle-buoy-band work in the pool was paying off!

View of the swim exit.  Ironman Texas 2014.

When I stood up out of the water my watch read 59:30.  YES!!! I shouted.  Out loud.  And then I ran as fast as I could through transition because the timing mat is not at the swim exit and I wanted my first sub-hour swim in the record books!

Official swim time:  59:52

The Bike

Game plan:  Ride comfortably uncomfortable in the first half, then take the effort level up in the second half.  (There were several more instructions with regards to nutrition and pacing, but I have no intention to share all my secrets!)  

What actually happened:
I dashed through transition and got out onto the bike course quickly (T1= 3:16).  I didn't take anything in for the first 10 miles or so other than a few sips of water, but I realized pretty quickly that my stabbing gut pain was not going anywhere.  In fact, tucked in my aero position, it was worse.  My legs felt strong, but as the miles added up and my energy level went down, I gradually lost power and speed.

My husband and my TriScottsdale teammate, AF, passed me at about 30 miles into the bike.  Even at that early stage I was in a world of hurt.  Each one cheered me on as they passed me and tried to get me to stay with them (at legal distance), but it was to no avail.  I simply had no ability to respond.

Over the course of 70 miles I tried everything in my bags of tricks, but nothing was absorbing from my stomach.  I tried electrolyte drinks.  I tried plain water.  I tried salt capsules.  I tried gels.  I tried nothing at all.  It didn't matter what I did, the pain didn't budge.  ***TMI ALERT!!***  I was burping and farting so I kept thinking there was potential that this problem would resolve.  No such luck.

Out for a pre-race tour of the run course.

The final 40 miles were the most excruciating hours of my life.  I just wanted to be off my bike.  I really wanted to be lying on the side of the road taking a dirt nap.  I could tell that between the wind and the warm temps, and my inability to absorb anything I was extremely dehydrated and hypoglycemic.  How I was able to hold it together mentally I don't know, but my coach's words continued to run through my head and I tried to do all the things I was supposed to do.  It was almost comical how hard I was working mentally in the game and how slow I was going physically.

I rolled into T2 and handed off my bike to a volunteer, and promptly started crying.  I think the emotional release was a combination of relief to be safely off the bike, the enduring pain in my stomach, and the realization that I had a very long 26.2 miles ahead of me.  I walked through transition, gathered my gear bag and headed into the change tent.

Official bike time:  5:45:54

My friend, MT, was volunteering in T2 and she helped me get all my bike stuff off and run stuff on.  When I was ready to go I didn't stand up.  Instead I began sobbing.  Huge tears rolled down my cheeks as she tried to console me.  She rubbed my legs and encouraged me to get out there and see what happened.  She said that not many people had come through T2 yet, and a lot of people had similar issues.  Another volunteer must have thought there was something physically wrong as she kept interrupting us.  What's your name?  What's wrong?  What is your NAME?  I ignored the inquiry and just kept listening to MT's soothing voice and eventually stood up and made my way out of transition.  (T2= 7:26)

The Run

Game plan:  Get off that bike and run your Ironman pace, one mile at a time.

What actually happened:
I am actually amazed that I held it together for as long as I did on the run.  For some reason, I can handle gut issues better on the run, maybe because I'm in an upright position.  Maybe because I can eat a bean burrito in training and then go out for a long run.  Whatever, the reason, I was happy to be on my feet and off of the damn bike.

I knew I was dehydrated and low on sugar.  At each aid station I walked to make sure I could maximize my intake potential.  I drank cups of Perform and sipped on water and ice.  I was carrying my Honey Stinger gels which were a lifesaver.  Thankfully it was not hot out as I can only imagine the added strain this would have put on my already depleted body.  I managed to run most of the first loop, approximately 9 miles, albeit slowly.

At the start of the second loop I was feeling dizzy and progressively weaker.  I found myself needing to walk more and just not altogether mentally clear.  Just after mile 11, I saw a friend in a TriScottsdale kit lying on the ground and a man was leaning over him.  I walked over, recognized my teammate (AF) and asked him if he wanted to walk with me.  He got up and we walked on.  Relentless forward progress.

AF was having his own struggle, but I was thankful to have someone with me, talking to me.  At some point I stopped being able to respond to his conversation.  I was having a hard time coming up with words in my head and what did come out sounded a little bit slurred.  I know that had I not been with AF at that moment, I would have eventually passed out on the course and the medical volunteers would have hauled me off the course with IV's in both arms, I was in that deep of a well physically.  I remember somewhere around mile 13 or so, he very clearly ordered me to take an entire bottle of Perform from the aid station and drink the whole thing.  I followed orders and within a mile my head was a little bit clearer.  I grabbed another bottle of Perform and drank it down.  By now we were nearing the end of loop 2.

The run course at night.  IM Texas has the BEST run course!

We formulated a run/ walk plan for the final loop.  He set the pace running at a decent clip for 5 minutes, and then I set the pace power walking for 10 minutes.  We covered ground quite quickly with this method averaging about 11 minutes per mile.  With about 4 miles to go, AF needed a break from the power walk and I was ready to be done.  I ran, this time at my own much slower running pace.  I continued to walk through aid stations to drink Perform as I was no where near recovered, but moving at about a 10 minute pace I was able to keep running.

I have never been so happy to see a finish line in my life.  At 12 hours, 26 minutes, and 13 seconds I raised my hands over my head in victory.  I finished an amazing 13th in my age group, with a faster time than last year on the same course.

The Aftermath

DNF is not found in my coach's vocabulary.  And after my failure at St. George in 2012, it was not an option for me.  I knew that no matter how long it took me, I was going to get to that finish line.  I was happy to be able to run as much as I did because I HATE walking at Ironman.  (Absolutely no offense to anyone who chooses to walk the marathon, I prefer to run it.)

After finishing I sat down in a chair to wait for AF, who was about a mile behind me, hoping to have a photo taken together.  After sitting for a few minutes I began having trouble catching my breath.  My husband was nearby talking with some friends and they began to notice my distress.  A medical volunteer came over and asked me if I wanted to go to medical.  Initially I declined, but then my breathing worsened and I grabbed her elbow and asked for her help.  I told her that I have had a very rare episode of asthma and I believed that was the problem.  She offered to grab a wheelchair, but I explained that sometimes if I walk it gets better.  She held onto my arm as my husband led the way, parting the sea of finishers and family members.  Once into medical they sent me immediately to the treatment area bypassing dozens of athletes waiting to be evaluated.  Apparently not being able to breathe takes priority over nausea and dehydration!

The medical volunteers were wonderful.  Friendly, attentive, and reassuring.  By the time I got into the medical tent my breathing was improved by my airways still felt tight.  The administered albuterol via nebulizer to open my airways.  After about 15 minutes of breathing the steroid-laced oxygen they released me to resume my post race ritual.

Since finishing a mere 4 days ago and returning to normal life, I've had time to reflect on the race and speak with my coach and another mentor.  I believe I have identified the main source of my nutritional problem on race day and am actively taking measures to ensure that it does not happen again.

Gratitude

Ironman is not a solo endeavor and there is no way I could do what I do without the support and help of a huge team of people.

Huge thank you to my coach, Hillary Biscay.  I am so thankful to be working with you and every single day I am reminded of how brilliant you are.  I see the fruits of your genius daily, even in my recovery process.  Thanks for taking a chance on me!  Thank you to Team HPB for cyber-cheering all day!  You inspire me every day with your hard work!  Special thanks to CH and MR, my local counterparts who push me daily in training and check in with me to make sure I'm alive and thriving!

Thank you to my team, TriScottsdale.  I love training and racing side by side with people who work hard, play hard, and love this sport as much as I do.  Special thanks to AF, without whom my race would have ended at mile 128.2.  I promise you that someday we will #FindKona!  I am proud to wear the colors of TriScottsdale and bask in the tons of on-course support I receive on race day!

Thank you to Paraic McGlynn and his team at Cyclologic.  Thanks to your knowledge and skill I am not only comfortable, but faster and stronger than ever on my bike.  Even though you have entire teams of professional cyclists to look after, I know that you are invested in my success because you were the first one to call and ask the tough question:  "What went wrong?"  Your effort is appreciated!

Thank you to Nate Snell and his team at Endurance Rehab.  Simply put, I would not be biking or running at all if it weren't for you.  Your weekly attention to my musculoskeletal weaknesses has allowed me to continue to do the things that I love.  You guys are the best!

Thank you to my husband.  You have put up with a lot over the years, and even more since my work load increased on January 1.  Your consistent belief in me and love means the world and #findingkona would mean half as much without you by my side.

Hard won medal.  Ironman Texas 2014.

Final thoughts

For those of you who are numbers people.  This was my 13th Ironman.  My bib was 481 (4+8+1= 13).  I finished 13th in my age group.  I'm not really superstitious, but there was no way I was quitting and having to repeat my battle against the number 13 again!!  They say everything's bigger in Texas... including my epic race disaster.  I could not be more proud of gutting it out.  As AF reminded me, to walk away and quit because things get tough is stuck up.  It's like saying "I'm too good for this."  And that is definitely not me.  No matter how bad things got, I knew I would be happy to have that medal and to have learned a great deal in the process.  You can't buy that sort of education.  

I keep reminding myself (and sometimes those around me) that this is a process.  When I signed on with Hillary, I signed on with knowledge that I have the potential to reach my goal and an enormous amount of work ahead to accomplish it.  I am not limiting myself in this process and understand that it may be years of consistency in training to get where I want to go.  In the 5 months since we have been working together I have made huge gains and I am so excited to continue the process.  This will not be an easy task but I am up for the challenge.  The dream is alive and it's time to get back to work!            

The Final Chapter: Ironman Arizona 2013

Yeeoooowww.   Yeeeoooooowww.   Yeeeoooooowww.

The distressed cry woke me from the deepest sleep I'd had in weeks.  My husband, who had been sleeping in the guest bedroom so as not to infect me with whatever funk he had contracted the week before, was also awakened by the screaming and met me in the hallway.  We watched, helplessly, as our oldest kitty collapsed at the top of the stairs.  My 15 year old, Zorro, had somehow made it up the stairs which he rarely attempts anymore, but he knew he needed our help.  He left a trail of vomit and diarrhea in his path and as I scooped his limp body into my arms, his eyes, unable to register mine, rolled slightly back. 

Oh my god.  Oh my god.  This can't be happening.  Zorro, hang on baby.  Mommy is here.  Oh my god.  What do I do?  We have to help him.  This can't be happening.  He can't die.

Everything was happening so fast, and suddenly his life was flashing before me.  I ran down the stairs and grabbed the karo syrup from the cupboard.  I wrapped Zorro in a towel and held him in my arms smearing the sticky substance on his gums and tongue. 

Please, baby, hold on.  You can't leave me.  Please don't die.  Mommy's here. 

I threw some clothes on and continued to plead with him as my husband backed the car out of the garage.  I called a friend and skilled veterinary technician, EZ, and asked her to leave her nice warm bed to meet us at the hospital.  My husband drove like we were in an ambulance, and thankfully at 1 AM the roads were pretty empty. 

EZ was there waiting, and we rushed Zorro into treatment and started working.  IV catheter.  Blood sugar level.  Fluids.  Antinausea meds.  IV metronidazole.  We worked and sat with him while he received his infusions for an hour or two until he stabilized.  I flushed his catheter, wrapped him up and took him home in a more stable condition than he'd arrived in.

My husband retreated back to the guest room for what few hours remained of our Friday night.  Zorro preferred to sleep on the floor, so I made a nice bed of my best fleece blanket and watched as he curled up.  I lay in bed, half asleep, but jumping out of my skin at every little noise. 

I can't lose him.  I'm not ready.  I need to get through this weekend, and the holidays.  And I promise, I won't let him suffer, but please, God, don't take him from me yet.  Please, just a little more time.

I woke with a headache on Saturday morning and found my baby sleeping quietly where I left him a few hours before.  I curled up on the floor next to him and stroked his fur.  I got ready to go, and wrapped him up to head back to the hospital.  In a few hours we were checking into our hotel for Ironman Arizona, and Zorro would spend the day on fluids and then be picked up that night by EZ who had agreed to stay with him and the boys at our house for the weekend. 

**********

This was the start to my Ironman race weekend.  By the time we dropped off our gear bags and bikes, checked into our hotel and got dinner, I was exhausted, emotionally drained, and couldn't even really think about racing.  It seemed really trivial now, and I was more worried about getting done so I could get home to my baby.

Race morning dawned.  I choked down half a waffle and a bottle of orange juice on our way to transition.  We went through our normal routine, filling our tires and water bottles, tracing our steps through transition and going for a warm up jog.  Finally it was time to get our wetsuits on and begin the walk toward the swim start. 

There was a time in my life when I was an avid church goer.  One of the sermons that has stuck with me over the years was about sacrifice.  The pastor talked about when you're hurting or in pain (physically or emotionally), rather than ask for your pain to be relieved- you should offer it up as a sacrifice so that someone else might be relieved of their pain.  On Saturday I dedicated parts of my race to people that are important to me, and on race day, I was blessed with a clear mind and a full spirit.  And as much as I'd like to give you a dramatic play by play of the race, there is surprisingly little to say.  It was an amazing day.  I had no expectations and I can honestly say that for the first time ever, I never once thought about what I was doing- I just did it. 

I swam.  I swam the same way I've done week after week after week for the last 6 years.  I went out hard at the start, got some distance, settled in and swam relaxed and comfortably for 2.4 miles.  I got out of the water just as Mike Reilly was announcing we were at 61 minutes.  As much as I'd like to break an hour in the swim, there's something comforting about being able to swim 1:01 in my sleep.  There's little effort involved, and it's a beautiful start to my favorite endurance sport. 

IMAZ Swim:  1:01

I had a little trouble getting out of my wetsuit, but once I finally did I flew through transition.  I grabbed my bike and jumped on to start the longest part of the day. 

Normally during the bike leg of Ironman I go through stages.  I feel good, then I feel bad, then I mentally fight to stay in the moment, and then I feel good again.  On Sunday, I had the absolute best bike ride of my life.  Not just because it was my fastest (it was), but I can honestly say that rather than sit back and wait to get off the bike and start running... I raced the bike.  I pushed from the start.  I paid close attention to my nutrition and I nailed it.  I never went through a bad patch, and though my math is shaky in the middle of a long race, I am 99% sure I even splitted all 3 loops. 

Shortly after hitting the beeline on my 3rd loop, I was passed by 2 teammates and my training partner.  I was so excited to see someone familiar and we ended up back and forth the rest of the way.  By the time we arrived back in transition I realized that I hadn't even been looking forward to getting off my bike.  I was having fun riding my bike! 



Taking in a little fuel on my HOT new bike!  Bike time: 5:27

I cruised through transition, slipping into my running shoes as the volunteer grabbed my helmet.  A minute thirty and I was out on the run course. 

I didn't have a plan for the run course, I just ran it how I felt it.  Having fueled really well on the bike, my energy levels seemed stable and I was able to just top off the tank every mile at the aid station.  I didn't begin to feel hungry until much later than usual, and when I did I began walking through the aid stations to fuel more. 

The spectators lining the course were amazing and I loved the energy.  It was so nice to see everyone smiling and high-fiving.  And I had several people shout for me to run for Zorro which boosted my spirits.  The new 2-loop course seemed to fly by and before I knew it I had passed mile 21 and was cruising the final miles of the race course.

IMAZ Run:  4:27

It was only then that I looked down at my watch and realized that I was going to be within 10 minutes of my best race.  I ran on clouds the last 3 miles.  Turning the corner on Rio Salado I was grinning ear to ear.  The crowds were loud and Mike Reilly was calling people to the finish.  I had done it, again.  This race, this distance... it's not a given.  There are so many things that can go wrong on race day.  When everything goes right, and all the pieces fall into place, it's an amazing feeling of accomplishment.  I raised my arms high as I crossed under the banner reading 11:02.  Only 8 minutes slower than my previous best time... I had proven to myself that I am not a one trick pony.  I was thrilled.

I chatted with some friends who were at the finish line, and eventually hobbled off to find some food.  My husband, who had flatted (and subsequently crashed) on the bike course came into T2 about 10 minutes behind me, and wasn't able to run more than about 12 miles.  He gutted it out, and I watched him come through to finish just after 12 hours 30.  We had known ahead of time that I would probably finish ahead of him, but I was thankful that I didn't have to pass him on the run.  Though he had caught me on the bike and was back and forth with me during the second loop, when he crashed and gave up 10 minutes on the 3rd loop of the bike course he never caught back up.  Knowing he was out there and seeing him a couple of times on the run lifted my spirits, but if I'd had to run past him... it would have been really tough for me to do.  He's my inspiration.  He's the one who taught me to run well, and feeds my passion for running.  I may have given up and walked it in with him.  But every time I saw him, he told me to keep pushing, to keep running, to keep giving it my all.  And I love him for that.   

On Tuesday after the race, we went to the doctor and had his Achilles tendon fixed.  Or hopefully fixed.  We'll find out once the boot comes off and the recovery period is over.  But it is my deepest prayer and hope that he will be able to run pain free again.  Needless to say, we are both ready to put 2013 behind us.

I am so thankful to have capped off my year of the Ironman with a perfect race.  I am already enjoying my off season, and I look forward to starting fresh in the new year.  I have learned a lot about myself this year and I am ready to set some new goals for 2014.  I am proud that everything I have accomplished so far (in my lifetime) has been entirely by myself.  I am proof that hard work can garner results.  I am the unlikely athlete.  The one who never played sports.  Always on the sidelines.  Many people are much faster than me, but I have achieved my goals by my own effort.  That feels really good.  I am excited to start working with a coach in January- for the first time ever in my life!  I am hopeful that she will be able to extract the best that I have to give.  It is going to be a wild ride.

There are a few people that deserve a little recognition.  Nate Snell from Endurance Rehab has been my physical therapist for several years.  I have a standing weekly appointment and he challenges my strength and has crafted this amazing endurance vessel. 

Thank you to Matt Tonkin, our manager at Cadence Running Company, who not only partners with us to make our business successful but is a great friend.  He has been encouraging me for months- believing that I was going to have a great race at IMAZ.... and he was right!  I guess it is the coach in him that allowed him to see my potential even when I could not. 

Thank you TriScottsdale, the best and most fun team of people involved in the sport!  I am honored to represent.  Together with my team mates, we took first place in the club competition at Ironman Arizona.  Go Team!

And lastly, a huge thank you to Paraic McGlynn at Cyclologic.  If you know him, he needs no explanation.  If you don't, Paraic is a bike fit genius... and that is an understatement.  I have worked with Paraic over the last couple of years and have always appreciated his skill.  When we had everything stolen after Tahoe, he squeezed us into his packed schedule to get us dialed in on our new rides.  I know for a fact that I rode so well on Sunday because of his efforts with me and my new bike.  It's fine to have a smokin' fast bike, but if your fit is off and you can't distribute power while maintaining a comfortable aero position for 112 miles, you might as well be riding a cruiser.  My bike is freakin' awesome--- but only because Paraic made it so. 

Making final adjustments at Cyclologic.

   
Thank you to everyone who has inquired about Zorro since his illness a week ago.  He is at home now, and stable.  He was diagnosed with diabetes 2 months ago, and is not regulating on insulin very well.  I know that he is on borrowed time.  Anyone who has loved a pet like family can understand how difficult it is to watch him get old and decline.  I adopted Zorro when I was a senior in veterinary school.  I was on my radiology rotation and he came in with a mangled leg.  Despite his injuries, he would lay in our laps and purr.  He was 6 months old at the time, and needed a home.  I took him in, paid the surgery resident to amputate his leg and he's been my little kitten ever since.  He is the sweetest, gentlest soul and I will be devastated to say goodbye to him.  But it is not his time yet.  Thank you for your thoughts over the last week. 
 

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?