Peace of Mind

So often we (and by we I can definitely say I) get caught up in the spin and the stir, the hustle and bustle.  We feel the need to constantly fill every second of every day with some sort of stimulation.  We are pushed to hurry, to move faster, to fit more into already bursting schedules.  No one (that I know of) is exempt.  Although some are much better at managing than others. 

Me- I'm the others....

Seriously though, I was lucky enough to get away with two very strong independent women this weekend.  A trip up to Vermont took worries and hurrying away... we did what we want, when we wanted.  This trip brought about a certain sense of peace... although, when it looks like this, how can you not be peaceful?

Sometimes simply vocalizing goals, problems, barriers is an incredibly empowering thing, especially around the right people. Confidence is gathered with just a little push and a nonchalant, "so do it" or "well, you have work to do" and "You've got it."  It is incredible the peace that comes with that.

A wonderful trip to a beautiful, magical, snow-laden place with excellent food and plenty to do, with no rush.  I learned how to snowshoe and discovered a new love (come on CT- we need some snow.)  On my return to the real world of course hit the ground running with no time to breathe, but with a different mindset.  Take it as it comes, and you've got it.  Make it happen. 

Stressing doesn't help.  Peace of mind makes sleep easier, it makes dispositions kinder, and it makes life smooth out just a bit.  Sure, sh*t happens, but how you deal with it changes everything.  Tonight I look at the challenges, the goals ahead and look forward to them.  I'm ready.  Time to put me and the people that I love first- and that brings peace.

Back in the water in the morning.  First workout in I can't remember how long... not really true- last time I did anything was the half marathon **and well snowshoeing this weekend which sort of counts.**  I intend to be smart, to move slow, and to enjoy the training.  I am lucky to have the ability- and I intend to enjoy every second and the peace of mind it brings. 

Thanks ladies for hitting my reset.

Challenge

What do you challenge yourself to?  Do you say it out loud?  Do you tell other people?  When your insides say quit, do you challenge yourself to more?  When something dances in front of you do you push and say "I dare you?"

Of course you do.  We all do.  We each challenge ourselves to things we never imagined.  While my challenges seem crazy and outlandish to many, I can't imagine standing in the shoes of others challenging themselves on a daily basis.  To each their own, and the challenges that draw them.

It is part of our human nature, push, work, challenge.  Love, fight, challenge. 

My challenge:

That would be the inside of my knee.  It was a mess.  It hurt, and for good reason.  I pushed through an entire season, challenging myself to more.  I have no regrets.  This year was amazing.  One Ironman attempt with multiple lessons learned.  A half ironman with incredible friends.  Another Ironman attempt and completion with the loving support of my husband and parents- and many many friends- in person and from a distance.  A half marathon in the support of the beginning of one of my best friend's running career. 

My challenges for the upcoming year are different from any time previous. 

Training hard and smart.  At least one and possibly 2 Ironmans on tap for the year.  Additional smaller races and plenty of training time.  Starting slow and paying attention to technique.  Gradual increase and build.  No injury goes ignored.... tough challenge.

Nutrition.  I have learned a lot about training ride and run nutrition.  Race nutrition.  I eat incredibly carefully in the days leading up to a race.  The rest of the time... not so much.  This has lead to a downward spiral now that I am not training.  Time to get back on the horse and remind myself that fuel matters, and this extra baggage has to go.

Enjoy the moment, enjoy the journey, appreciate the gift.  Sometimes we have to remind ourselves, this is what we wanted.  We asked for this.  We set this goal.  Soak up every second.

What are your challenges?  Be specific.  Reach for more than you thought possible.  You've got this.

Oooooouch

An Ironman takes approximately 30 weeks of training.  One to two workouts per day, one day off per week.  Some do more, some less.  The one thing I can tell you for sure is it becomes a lifestyle.  It isn't always easy to get out of bed, it isn't always easy to go the extra few miles, the sacrifice, arriving late to family events a little late and a lot stinky (chlorine or otherwise).  The race approaches and the excitement takes over.  It's finally here.  Hands grab water,  bike tires heat up against the pavement, feet pound out exhausting steps until they cross the finish line.  Minutes, hours, days.... Of absolute pride, accomplishment, fatigue, soreness.  Friends, family gather around.  Rally to support their athlete and carry them through it.

Then it's over.  It's so fresh in memory, but it's over.  Workouts are less than a quarter of what they had been.  That injury that had been ignored so that the finish line was possible, can no longer be ignored.  Depression sets in.

That's where I am.  It hurts more than the pain in my butt when I rode those 112 miles.  It's hurts more than the giant blister on my foot.  It even hurts more than my knee.  Having to not only slow down, but stop... And not know when I'll be able to start again.  Ouch.

My own pride has soared for my friends as they cross their own finish lines.  A first time half marathon for one, a PR in a marathon only one year after having a baby for another, a first time marathon for another.  My heart has swelled for them, and my eyes have brimmed with tears.  The first thing that I want to do is run, and then 8 steps in I know I can't.  I swim and twist off the wall... And can't.  My knee pinches on the bike at the 11 o'clock position, and I can't.

I have never said that before.  Stupidity maybe... I always pushed through.  Now it's time to fix it so that I can.  In the meantime though, holy moly.

Training becomes a full time job, an outlet, a therapy of sorts.  When it is on hold you get to the point where you aren't sure what comes next.  So I plan next season.  My next move.  My next race.  And I look forward to the very first workout.... Because unlike for many many people, I will have another, and for that I know I am blessed.

Volunteering- A Whole different Race perspective

Wow!  Just wow!  What an experience.

I have raced a great number of races.  I have always thanked the volunteers, I have always appreciated their every second on the race course.  However, today I paid it forward.  I gave back to the athletic community and it was almost as enjoyable as racing. :)

The Hartford Full and Half Marathon went off today in an incredibly rainy setting.  St. Jude and our volunteer crew set up our station- a double- mile 16 and 18.  Never before did I think of where the water comes from.... thank you to the residents who allowed us hose hook-ups.  We had buckets and buckets of water, containers of gatorade concentrate, and more cups than anyone would know what to do with.

The first runners came flying through, most very self sufficient and not taking much from us.  Eventually the stations exploded.  We ran, we smiled, and we ran some more, trying to get everyone what they needed and trying desperately to keep the cups full!  The time flew by, I could not believe when it was over.

Highlights:

Seeing those first athletes come through- PC, Male, Female.... holy cow.  Incredible to see that caliber of athlete.

Cheering on runners, and the big smiles and thank yous.  Very few looked unhappy or in pain.  Impressive for such wet conditions.

Seeing and calling out to all my fellow Ironman athletes. Saw a mount Tremblant finisher A Rev 3 Cedar Point finisher and a fellow Maryland finisher

Unzipping pockets and tearing open GU's.

Helping one very uncomfortable looking gentleman with Vaseline and Bandaids.
 
Seeing Greg at Mile 16.  I just happened to look up at the right time from filling my bucket.  What an inspiration that man is!  Soldier, ER Nurse, Internal Medicine APRN, Mountain Bike Mountain Goat, and now 4-time marathon finisher extraordinaire!

Seeing Greg at Mile 18 and being able to chat with him as we jogged along!  So incredibly mentally strong, and kind-hearted!  What a guy!

Being able to jog alongside someone who was very obviously going to get pulled by the sweeper and being part of her internal battle with herself, eventually helping to convince her to take her number off and run against the now opening traffic and finish the last 8 miles.  She wouldn't make the cutoff, but she would finish.  I am so happy for her and have been thinking about her all afternoon.

Giving back and being part of a community.  Nothing better.  Enjoyed every second.  I can't wait to do it again.

Congrats to everyone who ran today!  Lara, you are insane, 9:07 average?!  You are going to have to teach me how to run.

Reagan- 18 mile training run in the rain- incredible!  So blessed to have you as a training partner.

Greg- You are an inspiration and a wonderful man!  Thank you for our run today!

Outrunners- You are an amazing bunch- tally those miles today!

Beth- You are next!  Half Marathon only 4 weeks away!

St. Jude and its Heroes- Jenn, Durant, it was so nice to meet you both in person!  Thank you for coordinating this wonderful opportunity! 

YOU ARE AN IRONMAN

Wow.... Just.... Wow....  The past week has been a crazy whirlwind, but before I get myself confused, let me start at the beginning :)  **WARNING- LONG YAPPY STORY**  If you need the cliffnotes version, we arrived, I swam, biked and ran, I finished.  I had an incredible experience.  If you want the long version.... keep reading.

THURSDAY:  We had arrived Wednesday night and after a very rough night of sleep for me (and thus for Tim) I was not at my best.  While I tried to get my head into a good place we headed down to the race site.  The water was clam and smooth.  Transition was right next to the water (not a half mile away-  Sorry Rev Maine).  No jellies to be seen.  Things were going well. 
We walked down to the village for registration and got in line.... too many type A athletes ;)  Standing in line I chatted with the folks behind me and found that they too were from CT- small world.  As we talked more it came out that it was his first Ironman, oh, and his first TRIATHLON.  You can imagine the look on my face as I tried not to scare the daylights out of him.  He was so confident, so ready.  His take, "I'm only going to do this once, I may as well do the big one."  Refreshing.
After signing my life away, I donned the Ironman bracelet, got my race gear and chip and went out to my race sherpa- my fabulous husband.  As we struggled to get everything together I looked down into my hands and saw my chip strap but no chip.  Oh dear God, seriously?!  It was lost on the ground staring at me for about 10 seconds... but that was more than long enough for at least a minor heart attack. 
We putsed around the village for a couple hours with friends, purchased the last minute necessities (yes, as I was unpacking my bike gear, I realized I was out of hoo-ha ride glide).  I was surprised to see such a small number of vendors.  Really nothing local- probably related to first year growing pains.  The area went from a 170 athlete Chessieman to a 1400+ athlete Ironman.  I think that next year we will see an even bigger community appearance- it will be neat to see this race grow into the community.
Now time for the athlete meeting.  Wetsuit or no wetsuit was a big ticket item.  The water was 76 degrees, right on the cusp- literally.  We wouldn't know for sure until race morning.  Also worth mentioning was the 20 second spectator rule.  No spectator could join you for more than 20 seconds.  If they did it was considered outside assistance.  They casually mentioned a 1/2 inch of water over the road at high tide, and a set of rumble strips, both on the bike.  Ok, so a little excitement, not terrible.
While walking back to the car, we saw the Sparty ROTC vehicle pull into the parking lot.  We paused to say hello knowing this would be the fellow I met in Michigan at the Island Lake Triathlon a month ago.  Introductions were made, and we found out that he had just driven the bike course.  There were water spots all the way up the SUV.  The half inch of water at high tide.... was more like 3-4- at the crown of the road.  Oh.
Lunch. Nap. Shake out run.  We met my folks for dinner- incredible Crab balls.  I so wish I hadn't been pre-race, I would have had so much more to eat.  Not to mention that my dad had a house-made Eclair that looked about the size of your typical burrito..... yum.
Athlete Welcome- now mind you, I had been to the one in Texas which was a giant pump up party with a served dinner.  So I had a certain amount of preconceived notions.  We arrived and found the local choir singing (neat to see the community embracing the race and wanting to participate).  From there an awesome pump up video, and then the rain started.  In typical Ironman fashion we pushed through.  Unfortunately the bulk of their athlete speakers had flight delays, but overall was a great experience- although Texas will remain at the forefront of my mind in top Athlete Welcome Ceremonies.
The one thing I did find out about that night was the facebook page that was apparently created for this event.  On further investigation, this page had 740 members all of whom had been talking and training (virtually) together. How cool!    

FRIDAY:  Oh Good Morning Nerves.... slept well with the assistance of some Nyquil.  Started the day off accompanying my dad on his run astride my bike.  Awesome chance to chat and work through my gears and last minute tweaks.  The day was spent horribly mismatched in dayglo get-up and compression socks (much to Tim's dismay).  I had a short checklist of things that needed to be done, so off we went. 
Driving the bike course.  It will never cease to amaze me that when I drive the course I can't help but think, seriously?  I have to DRIVE how far?  Yet that thought never crosses my mind about the race itself.  This one was even funnier, because it was a two loop course- so even less of a drive.  Water was, well, water.  Whatever.  Rumble strips were about a foot wide and stretched on for several miles.  Ok, good to know.  A little bit of loose gravel, and a little bit bumpy roads, but a beautiful and flat as a pancake drive.  Oh, save for one hill... here it is...

Driving the last leg of the bike we saw the race director on his hands and knees at the turn-around for the run.  The next day on the run I found out he was working diligently on this:

Bike Stickered and dropped.  As I rolled into transition the place echoed with rapid fire of 3 tires exploding.... those tires I just filled up before riding that morning.... yep, definitely let the air out.  (Although I may have gone a little overboard, front tire on race morning was down to 20 psi- ha!) 
From there it was on to the village for last minute details and information.
Lunch on the river at a fabulous place called Portside.  (I have to write it down so I remember!) Good seafood, all you can eat pasta buffet for the athletes if you so desire, deck right on the river.   It was perfect.  Now I say fabulous trusting the few bites that I had, oh, and the full meals and appetizers that my family inhaled!  Nerves had gotten to my stomach and I was feeling sick.  No sense in pushing it.  I drank my liquid nutrition that I had been carrying around all day.
We made it back to the hotel and had hatched a plan for the next day (parking, food and drinks, meeting points, etc).  At this point, I was hungry.  I had leftovers from lunch but I was nervous, what if it didn't sit?!  Off to Denny's we went.  Egg white omelet with cheddar and mushrooms, hashbrowns, hold the toast.  Extra salt.  Mmmmmm.
8pm, Nyquil and goodnight. 

RACE DAY: 
Up and at 'em really early- 3:15.... Holy Dark.  Dressed, greased, chipped and on our way.  Coffee and then to the race.  Nutrition mixed and packed.  Off to transition.  Drop all my bottles, double check all of the important things.  Fill my bike tires.  Now I have an hour and a half to kill before race start and well... the nerves are running high.  I used my empty morning clothes bag to puke into.  I was so sick to my stomach that I couldn't possibly wait for the porta potty.  So I emptied the contents of my stomach into the bag over and over again and finally tossed it.  I can only pray that no good samaritan tried to rescue it from the garbage.

SWIM:
Line up by estimated swim time with 1400 of your closest friends.  The National Anthem is sung, holding Timmy's hand, with tears in my eyes, I was just so grateful for the honor it was to toe the line.  The cannon went off and we were on our way.  Shuttled down through a boat launch ramp and out into open water.  Awesome.  I love this.  This is awesome.  This is incredible.  No anxiety.  A few moments of complete anger as I could not seem to get free water and space.  Every few strokes another collision... no such thing as nice smooth swimming in this race.  Ok, thats fine.  I'm tough.  First loop down, free water for 30 seconds, and then it happened, my arm got tangled up as someone attempted to swim over top of me.  My shoulder wasn't the same the rest of the race.... keep on trucking.  Keep turning over.  You're tough, you've got this.  Turn 1, Turn 2, Turn 3, Home Stretch.... and the swim is done.  Neeeeeeexxxxt.....

Swim Time:  1:38.59  Slower than expected.... much.  But for the full contact swim that it was, it was going to have to be good enough.  Room for improvement.

Transition 1
Nice set-up.  Not nearly enough room in change tent.  Not enough volunteers.  Otherwise a fine transition, grabbed the essentials, followed my plan and I was off.

T1 Time: 4:57

BIKE:
Now this is where the plan really gets put into place.  I am going to leave it all out on the bike course.  Thats right.  I am going to empty the tank and then run/walk a marathon..... this seems like a stupid idea.  This seems like a cowboy, shot in the dark, crazy plan.  All I know is I had something left in Texas, but not enough time, and then my body didn't cooperate.  I wasn't doing that again.

I was 20 miles in and finally settling in and starting to feel comfortable.  I was moving.  Nothing hurt.  Nothing was getting pinched or pushed.  I was on track.  My nutrition was spot on.  I took only 2 salt tabs the whole race, I felt so good.  We rode in the wildlife refuge- beautiful.  Incredible weather.  I was loving this.  I was flying.  40 miles in and averaging 17.2 mph.  Yesssss!  This is working.  I kept my head in the game knowing that this is where my wall hit in Texas.  5 miles later, it wasn't a wall, but a little bit of wind.  I backed off and didn't feel as good for the next 25 miles.  Special Needs didn't fix anything, my butt hurt, ugh.... not a wall, but mental suck.  Keep pushing, keep pedaling.  All of a sudden I remembered the Snickers bar from my special needs bag.  BEST. CANDY. BAR. EVER.  Shortly after, whether it was the sugar or just the mental game, I felt better.  I got off the bike one more time at about mile 90 to stretch, to pee, to wrap my head around what I am doing.  Back on the bike and motoring.  The last stretch followed the first loop on the run.  People were flying!  The run support was incredible.  The last stretch flew by, all of a sudden I was off my bike.  I grabbed the seat to wheel it in to transition.... and it was so loose!!!  How it happened I have no idea, but it is no wonder why I had been hurting.
 I was off the bike.   I had so much time to spare.  I could walk the whole marathon.... would my body let me?

Bike Time:  6:53.42  16.24 mph  (In case you were keeping track.... if I can transition and run 26.2 miles in 19 minutes I could win this whole thing!  **Spoiler Alert** I didn't:) )

Transition 2:
Tent still not big enough.  Still not enough volunteers.  Porta Potty outside the tent is not open.... oh for Pete's sake.  Yes... these transitions were the worst part of my race.  I lost easily 2 minutes on this transition.  It ended up not mattering.... but it could have.  I need to be mentally better in transition- who knew?!

Transition 2 Time:  8:09

RUN:
Walk/Jog for the first 4 miles.  Much more walking than jogging.  Having fun, feeling good.  Looking at my watch and doing math.  Lots of math.  How many minutes per mile to finish before midnight? Another mile down, now how many minutes per mile?  I realize that when I jog, my walk pace decreases significantly afterwards.  So if I just keep walking I can maintain 16-17 min/mile pace.  If I jog its at a 12 min/mile pace and only for a couple minutes, then my walk drops to 19-20 min/mile.... and I have to walk much more than a couple minutes at a time.  Tooooooo much thinking.  So I walked.  It seemed to make more sense.
It took forever.  I wanted it to go fast and it didn't.  The first loop was hot.  Everyone was out in droves to support.  The first time through town was surreal.  The thought that people were running past me to enter the finisher chute... incredible.  You could hear the announcer all the way around the run course.  It kept you focused when you were lost.
 Second loop.  Still moving, tightening up but not slowing down.  Still doing lots of math.  Getting much worse at it, brain felt fuzzy.  I hadn't brought my nutrition with me because I couldn't imagine carrying the bottle.  Mistake... I was trying to get what I needed from the aid stations.  Nothing really worked.  Water wasn't enough.  Ice felt good.  Chips made me sick.  Banana sat ok but didn't make me feel any better.  Grapes and cookies seemed to be the best.  I grabbed a cup of cookies at one station and a cookie at the next, repeat, repeat.  I tried the chicken broth (apparently forgetting Texas) it didn't help.  It made me sick.  I didn't take anything at all after that- it was mile 14.... I could be in trouble. 
I didn't really think about it.  I just kept going.  My average was still high.  I now could average 22 min/mile.  I had space.  I had time.  My math wasn't quick, but it was right.  I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I kept waiting to have something prevent me from finishing.  In the meantime, I kept trucking along.  My next time through town I danced to the music, I smiled.  I realized in a few hours, I would be back, and I would be running, I would be finishing.
My parents were there, my husband was there.  They were covering the course.  They were making themselves seen.  They made sure I was ok, and they stayed so strong for me despite being more than a little worried.  I can't thank them enough.  They were amazing. 
I hit a wall.  It hurt, I couldn't see, I was tight.  I couldn't walk as fast.  I was afraid.  What if something happened, what if I couldn't finish?  Wall.... wall... wall... I kept moving.
I made it to the last turn around.  Keep going.  The support was lacking.  It was dark.  The support was the other racers, the ones out there hurting, struggling, limping.  We stayed strong for each other.  It was an incredible brotherhood.
I made it back to my husband and my parents.  I was good.  I was good.  I had an hour to finish 2 miles.... its finally real.  I finally believed in myself.  I can.
Loop through town and I can't stop smiling, laughing, calling out congratulations to my coheart final hour finishers. 

The Finish:

I came running down the chute.  I high fived everyone I could get to.  I saw my family.  I grinned bigger than I have ever grinned before.  And I didn't hear a thing.  Thats right... I didn't hear it.  I thought he hadn't said it.  The first words to my husband were, "I did it?  I'm an Ironman?  Did he say it?!"  He reassured me that he had and I would hear those 4 precious words for the first time 2 days later while watching the recording on the Ipad :)

I finished in 16:33.21.  I averaged 17:50 min/mile.  Not bad for a little stroll on empty.  My plan worked. 

Everything hurt.  I was never going to do it again.  And then I was.  And then I signed up.  I'm crazy.  Insane... certifiable.  But I am an Ironman.

The calm before the storm

Well, a very early good morning from Ironman Maryland.  Sleep has been an issue for the past couple days, I can't imagine why!  With the help of some nyquil I got 7 hours last night, not great but much better.  Woke up feeling refreshed, guess that gets added to my race plan!

It is absolutely beautiful here.  I can't wait to swim bike run here.  I truly believe that it will be an enjoyable course- well, as enjoyable as can be anyrate.    Upon arriving this morning we went to transition where they were still in the relatively early stages of setting up.  The water was calm and as smooth as glass, hopefully it doesn't live up to its name on race morning (we're swimming in the Choptank River.)  Transition is big but compact.  Less than a 40 yard run between the water and the changing tents makes my bare feet soooooooo happy.

The bike has one doozy of a hill at an elevation of 50 feet (seriously we're talking pancake flat).  I have heard good things about the course but have not seen for myself yet.  Rumor has it that there are several areas with inches of water on the road at high tide, but otherwise the wind is the only obstacle.

The run.... I am so grateful that it is a 3 loop.  Some people hate it, would rather see a one loop marathon.  Me, at that point, I am not enjoying any scenery,  just putting one foot in front of the other.  The design of this loop makes it so that even if your supporters don't move, they can be seen twice on each loop... mentally this is great- decreasing the "alone time."  Then again, if I see my supporters twice on each loop, that means I see everyone else's too, the place oughat to be packed.

Today hopefully will be a pretty boring day.  Bike is clean and ready to go.  I need to pack my bike and run bags.  We'll head for bike drop off, drive the course and plan to lay pretty low otherwise.  Can't believe that we are already here, 24 hours before arrival at race morning....

Head in the Game

Today my head was anywhere but.  The 4 months between Ironman Texas and Ironman Maryland have been an interesting road.  Plenty of challenges have risen up to meet me and today I realized that I have been ignoring them for the most part- pushing them to the back of my mind and hoping they would disappear... instead they all floated into my conscience starting around 430am.  Can I tell you- at 10am I texted my husband and said, never mind, I don't want to go.  Lets stay home.  A lesser man would have been excited at the thought of a real vacation, a real break.  Instead he told me to take a breath and we would talk about it later.  We never really had to- it was addressed quickly and succinctly, "You can do this.  You need to do this- for you." There was no argument, no discussion, just the undying faith and belief in me.  No pressure.  No force.  We're going.

My incredible ladies made training so much fun this summer and I am so grateful for them.  We surmounted Rev3 Maine together and had so much fun doing it.  Rev3 was not a hard race for me- I'll be honest.  I felt great on the swim aside from wetsuit chafe toward the end.  The bike felt good.  I never felt like I was pushing an unsustainable pace.  I felt comfortable, I could have easily kept going.  The run.... terrible as always.  The reality is that it doesn't matter how much I have left after the bike- I don't have the wheels for the run.  Not yet anyway.... maybe one day.  The run was a struggle, but with forward progress I was faster than I thought I would have been, and when I came into town for the finish- I felt like I had plenty left.  It wouldn't be fast, it wouldn't be pretty, but I was capable of more.

The mind games of a DNF are awful.  Your first Ironman... a DNF... a medical disqualification.  A mental block that hovers.  I have spent so much time calculating... wondering... finding minimums... and just flat out not knowing.

The one thing I have to say about Rev3 is that despite the ugly run, there was only a very brief moment- less than 10 seconds- that I thought... nope, I should drop Maryland.  One thought over the span of 7 hours, I can handle that.

Somehow someway I need to spend the next 9 days being positive, pushing myself forward, making last little adjustments and finding my faith in myself.  Counting my steps to lose myself in a painful run.  Letting myself drift into a lull on the aerobars while I forget my legs are numb- tired.  Giving it what I have in the swim.  Leaving it in the water and giving myself a cushion to rest on the rest of the day.

Lets be honest.  I am not in this to place.  I am not in it for prize money.  I am not in it for the medal.  I am in it to know that yes, I can do it.  I am in it to cross that finish line before midnight, and even if that is not in the cards.... I will complete the distance.  I will do this, for me.  I am strong.  I am crazy.  I will be an Ironman.  Day one of positivity starts here.  

Lessons to be learned

On crummy workout days you have to remember that there is always something good that comes out of it.  There is always a lesson to be learned.

Today.... was a rough day.  I set out with a spring in my step and feeling great about the day ahead of me.  A little short on sleep, and in a rush, no breakfast.  Mistake one.  No fuel = starting behind the 8-ball.  I had leftover iced coffee from a shift I worked last night, perfect start to the morning.  I drink an iced coffee before every race and have never had a problem.  This morning I thought, wouldn't it be wonderful to drink my coffee as my first bottle on the bike?!  Yeah.... mistake two.

Out on the bike, feeling good on the rollers and couple climbs on my way over the river.  Very nauseous... drinking coffee while riding... not a great idea.  Dump the coffee, switch to water.  Except I am still nauseous- not able to take much fluid.  Thats alright. I'm doing great.  Make the turn into unknown territory (roads I have traveled before but it has been a long time and I have never biked them.) Mistake Number three- underestimating the unknown.  I climb and descend and climb and descend.  I still can't drink and now I am starting to notice.  This is a problem.  Climb and descend.  Total climb for the ride: over 3000 feet.  For comparison- Ironman Wisconsin has a total climb of 2890 for 112 miles.... oh boy. 

I am not the strongest climber and my lack of fuel and fluids is taking a major toll.  I am much slower than usual and I am swearing that the next time I will ride this course is right after I become a professional triathlete. HA! 

Right around mile 30 I am finally not sick to my stomach and I start pumping fluids.  Much too little, much too late.  Then, I am so distracted and frustrated with myself that I miss a turn.  This adds ten miles to what should have been a 50 mile ride.

I made it.  I did it.  It hurt.  It all but broke me.  The upside- Ironman is not easy.  You struggle.  You don't feel good.  You think you are going to break.  Then you embrace the suck.  Today was a true training ride in all sense of the words.  I trained physically and mentally. 

I also learned.  Never again will there be coffee on a ride.  Never again will I forgo my fuel before a huge workout.  I can't say that I will never go on an unresearched ride again- as it was a good training experience, and goodness knows I know I will miss plenty of turns on this long crazy road to Ironman, but hopefully every missed turn in a roundabout way brings my closer to the finish.

Texas Race recap- finally :)

So a month out, I have done a lot of thinking, a lot of crying, a lot of what-if-ing, and in the end, a lot of celebrating.  This has taken me a lot of time and attempts to write.  I hope that someone gets something out of this, and knows that not everyone succeeds... and that in the end, thats ok.  It will only make the next finish more sweet- I hope. 

This is an awkward thing... Not finishing.

Everyone tells you that you were a success, an inspiration, and that they are proud of you, and you know they are being one hundred percent honest.  At the same time, you can't help but think, I didn't finish, they didn't say my name, I'm not an ironman.

It is an emotional roller coaster to say the very least.

I'll start at the beginning.

Race night, very restless, nerves, fixing a toilet that wouldn't stop running, multiple things kept me up, but I estimate I got about a solid 3-4 hours of sleep overall.  By the time morning came, I was ready within minutes.  I had a plan, I felt ready, and we were out the door.  A pit stop at Starbucks and we were on the way to the race site.  (Hindsight #1: stop away from the race site for a potty pit stop- Timberman had an awesome porta-potty setup, Texas did not have nearly enough!)

Park (have a parking plan, we did and it was a good thing, many people were a little clueless about where to be), and we were on our way to transition.  Drop my bottles, check my tire pressure and it was time to go to the swim start.  Here is the thought that entered my brain: we are having a very difficult time organizing ourselves enough to walk in and out of transition and down the sidewalk, how are all 2500+ of us supposed to swim together?

Swim start: aforementioned porta-potty disaster.  Lines for days, no toilet paper already and the race hadn't even started... Oh dear.  The good news is that instead of having a separate station, the body markers were walking up and down the bathroom lines.  Marker up, wetsuit up (water temp 71 degrees), cap and goggles  and a kiss goodbye and I was into the line to the water.

I got in the water, settled into my position and a certain calm swept over me.  They were playing U2 "Beautiful Day"  (the entrance song for my wedding party at the reception) and I couldn't help but get a little emotional, "I made it, I'm here, I'm doing this."  I was so happy... that lasted about 90 seconds.  It lasted through the cannon going off, "Wow!  Here we go!"  Stroke stroke, punch, stroke, punch, breath, stroke, stroke, punch, punch, choke, breath. Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke... holy cow, open water- how did I do that?! Then my 90 seconds were over- what am I doing?  I haven't trained well enough, I'm injured, I haven't put in the mileage, what is wrong with me... dear God... get... me... out...of... here!

That's right, its not all sunshine and rainbows, and during the only part of the event that I have any confidence in, I was melting down, I was ready to quit, seriously?  Fuck.

one two three, breathe, one two three breathe, one two three breathe, one two three site.  REPEAT.  I kept doing that for about 20 minutes.  Long enough to remind myself, you're fine, this is the easy part.  But I seriously had to count my way through it.  I was moving slow, much slower than I was capable of and I knew it.  But I was making progress, I was doing it.  Turn buoy #1- Thank God.... Turn buoy #2, seriously?  Good, I'm doing better  Turn buoy #3.... hmmmm.... I wish I had studied this swim course a little better.... I don't know how long this channel is.  Hmmm... I must be getting close now... This is really cool, so many people running alongside the channel- very neat having a cheering section during the swim.  Its like a high school swim meet all over again.  Hmmm, seriously, how much further, I feel fine, but I'm ready to sprint, turn over the arms, loosen up the legs and get on the bike!  How much.... "Come on Kristin!!!!!"  Hey- was that my husband?  I think that was my husband.  One two three breathe, "You've got this Kristin!"  Yep, that's him... how did he find me?!  God he is awesome... so glad I married him.  One two three breathe, "Only a quarter mile more babe!!!" Jesus... I love him even more, thanks for reading my mind love, time to sprint.  Flip over, couple backstroke strokes, a wave, blow a kiss to the voice in the crowd, flip over and sprint.  (Yep- that's me below- my wonderful husband, measuring, hollering, and taking pictures!)

Now- a nod to the volunteers- I made it to the stairs out of the water and couldn't touch the bottom, so you had to use arm strength to yank yourself up until you find footing on the bottom step.... I shouldn't have worried about it.  As quickly as I got my hands on the railings, I was being hauled in by the volunteers.  A quick thank you and I was off... but not before someone unzipped my suit and yanked it to my waist.  They are awesome!

Into the change tent, more incredible volunteers.  Helping with shoes, socks, anti-chafe, helmet, helping you to not look like an idiot, while conserving as much energy as possible.  Struggling to put your wetsuit in your bag?  Don't worry about that, I got it.  Wow.... thank you thank you thank you!

Out of the change tent and on to the sunscreen.  Now in Texas... this is an important step, one that in hindsight deserved a little more attention than what I gave it.  Volunteers lined up with sunscreen dripping off of medical gloves.  I ran to the first free person, a late teens guy, and asked him to smear me... lets just say, he was less than effective.  Thankfully I stopped at a second person, someone who looked like she had put on plenty of children's sunscreen- and she took good care of my face and neck.  Too bad I didn't have her retrace the path of the adolescent.... more on that at mile 70.

Onto the bike.  Wow, I feel great, what was I freaking out about?!  Mile two, only 110 to go!  Ok....  maybe a hair early to start counting down.  Mile three- pop- left calf- whoa... ouch... oww, what was that?  Shit.... is it stopping?  Yeah, its better.  Ok... we're fine- until you coast with left leg up, the first push down from there... shit... oww.  Ok, don't do that. Coasting with right leg bent from now on.  100 to go.  I'll be fine.  Mile 20- I feel awesome!  Leg has calmed down except for the aforementioned coasting problem.  I have 90 more miles in me.  No problem!  Mile 40- fabulous- feeling great, pace is awesome- close to 17 mph.  I never thought I would be that fast.  I feel great, I'm going to get off the bike.

If I am perfectly honest... I didn't think that I would make the bike cutoff.  The cutoffs were written on my arm, I knew what I needed, but I didn't think I could do it walking into the race.  Now... at mile 50... its real, I'm getting off the bike.  I feel great and I'm almost halfway with lots of leeway.  No way... seriously?  This is awesome!  Turn corner, 30mph headwind... shit... spoke too soon.  Yep. My average dropped like a rock, struggling with hitting a wall while I struggled with the wind.  Not a great combination.  I think my average for the next 20 miles hovered between 11-12 mph.  Dear God...

I started making promises to myself.  You can stop at the next aid station, you can sit down.  You can take a break, you earned it, you still have time.  Then I would get to the aid station and be ok.  Nevermind, water, water, chomps, banana, water.

It was an aid station to aid station race, I no longer even cared how long I had in the race, I cared when the next time I would see a person with a banana would be.

I had also begun to notice my very interesting tan lines... I could see the finger marks from the young guy who slathered on my sunscreen.  Yep... he missed both forearms almost entirely.  I still have very clear tan lines demonstrating his finger marks, my number on my left hand, my garmin complete with tans in the adjustment holes, my hairtie and for my wristband.

Around mile 85 I thought about quitting, I was whooped, the wall had snuck up on me again.  I wasn't sure I had anything left.  The magical electrolyte pills had ceased to be magical.  I thought about it... and realized, if I sit down and call for a SAG wagon.... they will take just as long to get to me and get me into town as it will take for me to get myself in.  Ok.... man up girl... time to push.  And there it was, my 18th wind, and it was enough to carry me all the way back into town with my speed hovering between 15-16.  I was proud, I was going to make it off the bike.  I may actually finish this race!

** For those of you that are trying to figure out which one I am... not the super jacked tan lady... :)

 Into town, onto the cobblestones and by some miracle off my bike without falling on my ass.  The longest I have ever ridden, 112 miles... incredible!  I can't say that I feel good, but I can say I feel high.  Hey!  There is my husband!  He is amazing, how does he keep finding me?!  He jogs alongside me as I clip clip clip along into transition.  A quick kiss, I love you, and I'm off to the change tents.  Clip clip clip, jogging, not fast, but moving.


Then it happened.  I. Sat. Down.  While this works for many people, it was where I fell apart.  I got changed, my transition was long.  I knew I had time so it was ok.  But then I stood up.  Fuck.  Remember that calf?  Yep, its back.  Spasmed so tight I can barely move my ankle.  Perfect, thats ok.  I bought time on the ride.  I can average 16 minute miles.  Plenty of time.  I'm trying to jog along.  Its not working.  I start walking trying to stretch out.  I'm drinking water.  I'm eating bananas.  Its not working.  I need to pick up the pace.  I am two miles in and averaging 18 min miles... this isn't working.

I try jogging again, I'm ready I think.  Nope.  Hamstring on the other leg spasms.  Great.  Now those who know me know that I am not your typical Iron-athlete.  I'm not svelt and smooth, now I'm looking that much better jogging with two malfunctioning legs.  Shit.  This isn't pretty.  I have to walk.  The thought of not making cut begins to cut into my brain... no, I can do this.  Salt.  Nope, magic pills have lost their magic.  Water.  Nope.  Nothing helping.  Only getting worse.  Losing coordination.  Near fall once, lower self to ground.  Take a break.  Get up.  Vision dances.... ooooh vasovagal..... get down get down get down.  Sit back on the curb and within seconds a poor unsuspecting medic has descended upon me.  Taking my blood pressure while I try to explain that I have the right to refuse treatment.... such a good patient.  What a pain in the ass I am.  After a very short and ill effective argument, she takes my chip.... I'm done... my race is over... I have plenty of salt in my body- how do I know??  I can taste it in my tears.... God that was awful.

I convinced her that I was safe to leave alone and I went to find my husband, and cried some more.

The rest of that evening is a blur.  I know we got my bike.  I know I talked to my parents.  I know I cried a lot.  I know I was in shock.  My wonderful hubby took care of everything.  Pizza for dinner, ice bags for things that hurt and things I didn't know hurt.  Sleep.... a 2am shower.  Thinking briefly that I could get on the treadmill in the hotel gym and walk the last 17 miles.  Yeah.... we're talking all kinds of emotional roller coaster.

The month that followed has been strange.  My knee, the one thing that I thought would limit me, didn't bother me for a second during the race. My calf has been an on again off again problem.  I finished two legs of the race and a third of the last leg.  I can do this.  I know I can.  I need to make some changes.  I want to do it again.  I need to do it again.  I need to finish.  Maryland here I come.



This is a succinct version of the race and a very short explanation of the last month of pondering.  Long story short, I love this sport, I love the following, I love the fellowship, I love the training, the blood, the sweat, the tears.  I don't know that I love the Ironman distance, but I do know that I need to finish it once.  My training is not perfect, but I was almost there.  I think with a few changes, I will be there.  I know I can do this.  I am headed to Maryland in Sept, it is just over 3 months away, and I am ready.

I'm not the cheery first timer success story that you always hear.  They don't highlight the DNF's.  But shit happens, and its ok.  I had an awesome race in Texas.  I learned a ton.  I'm ready for my next chance.


**There are a ton more pictures, eventually I will get them all on the same device and I will post a pictures blog**

What's your plan?

When I answered this question posed by a seasoned athlete at the athlete banquet with "put one arm, one pedal and one foot in front of the other until I finish", she looked positively horrified and mumbled a "I wish you the best" before she scuttled off.

I know she was looking for times, for nutrition and hydration, for race strategy, but I couldn't talk about any of these things without breaking into a sweat and worrying about what I had gotten myself into.  So instead I let her balk at my naïveté and move on.  Seriously, I love her for asking, but right now, I need zen.

Let's go back a few steps.

Yesterday was good, much better than my first day here.  I woke to a text and was ready to move.  Breakfast, and I was off.  Nerves in pretty good check.  It was time to explore.

In a relatively ok place I went to check out transition.  This was incredibly daunting and eerie.  This beautiful park has been transformed into a ghost town with rows and rows of metal sawhorses standing empty, waiting for the bikes to show up.  Change tents have been erected, seats waiting empty for the tired and weary.  Stairs out of the water in place with metal gates lining the runway out of the water.  HOLY. SHIT.  Pinch me.

I hurried off to the Athlete meeting.  Lots of faces trying to look brave but having doubts and fear creeping in through their eyes, why did we do this again?  Fun? Seriously?  I had a good handle on the logistics for the most part, so I convinced myself, you're fine, buck up.

From there, I picked up my bike and felt so incredible and peaceful once having it back in my possession.  (Sounds crazy right?). The truth is that bike over the past several months has become a
place of comfort.  Stressed? Get on the bike.  Knee hurts?  Get on the bike.  Feeling lost?  Get on the damn bike!  Needless to say the absence of MY bike was wearing.

Back in my possession and pedals were on and we were off.  Not a long ride, enough to run through her gears and my paces.  Coming back, I was a different person.  I calmly sat down and used the hotel washcloths to wipe down my ride.

Content, mentally I was finally in a good place for the first time since getting here.

Many texts from home sending love, happy thoughts and curiosity of what was going on edged me forward, keeping nerves at bay as I told of this incredibly experience.

I was undecided on whether I would go to the athlete banquet.  Tim wasn't here yet which meant

going by myself, not something I am great at.  I convinced myself to go knowing I could always turn around and leave.  I almost did, one, two, three, twelve times, but in the end was so glad I stayed.

Aside from Ms.whats-your-plan the people there served as a calming influence.  Dinner was excellent and when Mike Reilly got up to talk the place exploded.  Tears in my eyes, I realized for the first time that I was finally in pursuit of a lifelong dream.  I was here, I was doing this.  I was in good company as the first-timer number for this race broke Ironman record.  Athletes from 18 to 80 were present.  remember the gentleman from Kona last year who had to lean on his daughter Liz for much of the run?  Yep, he is here, 80-years young with a wonderful sense of humor.  "I told my daughter to shoot
me if I ever mentioned doing another one of these stupid races." Athletes who and lost 50, 60, 70,
even 200 pounds in their ironman training.  Stories of military, injured, cancer survivors... All of us
have a demon we are trying to beat, and here we are.

I walked out inspired and feeling as though anything was possible.

I packed my transition bags and built a plan for the morning, sleep as long as I could, practice swim, bike from there to bike and t-bag drop off, then jog back to the car.  Well, see, now you know why I don't plan.  Parking was so limited for practice swim that it meant parking more than a mile away and leaving my bike and gear locked but unsupervised.... Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.  I should have gotten there earlier.  Oh well, roll with it girl.

I went to ironman village, was complimented on my taped "design" on my knee and was asked if it was the latest fashion.  I couldn't do anything but say, "you bet!"  Ha.  Oh boy....  If only this was a fashion statement.  On a side note, it really seems to be helping.  I wasn't taped for the plane ride and by the time I got here and walked around a bit, my knee was screaming.  I taped and since (knock on wood) have been ok.

Off to transition my bike and bags went.  I got the layout for swim in bike out and bike in run out.  I shifted my bike into the high range low gears ready to take off (something I have forgotten to do on literally every race thus far).  I dropped my bags after double checking them.  I couldn't think of anything that was missing and I let it go and just said, enough worrying, time to roll with it.  I need to have faith in my training, my planning, my packing.  Everything is there, I am ready.

The only dicey moment may be from the swim to bike.  I have to wear contacts in the swim, no option.  However, I know that 17 hours of contacts will give me the worst headache, and I don't need
any extra pain.  I packed my Rx sunglasses in my bike bag.  Somehow I need to remember to take
contacts out before jumping on the bike.  They are disposable which makes life easier, but still an extra step.  Glasses are in my run bag as I know I will be running in the dark and sunglasses or running blind won't be possible.

Swim, lunch, grocery store for powerade, and in a very non-traditional race prep step, I went for a pedicure.  The wonderful Korean lady there took fabulous care of me and insisted that " you need Iron-Lady toes". God bless her, I could have cried.

On that note, hubby will be here soon and I am ready.  I am excited.  I am ready to rock. Ready to roll, ready to finish.  Believe, Love, Push.



Want to follow me on race day?  http://www.ironman.com/triathlon/coverage/detail.aspx?race=texas&y=2014#axzz31iNvNTnL. Bib number 305.  Click on athlete tracker, there will even be live video if you don't have anything better to do :). 

Texas sized nerves

Well after a short nights sleep, the alarm went off at 230 to send me into the shower and off to the airport.  One large coffee and a two hour ride later my stomach was in knots and I was thinking, "let's just turn around and go home to bed."

I didn't.  I got on the plane and tried to sleep.  Fitfully I did for an hour or so, then it was back to the nerves.  I broke out a book that I had downloaded just before leaving, and I read half of it before the trip was over.  It was perfectly timed and perfectly written for this experience.  I think it will be a book that I read over and over again during these types of moments.

The book is called 140.6 Unlikely Finisher.  He writes from a point of understanding, he's just as crazy as I am.  He talks about quitting and then starting back up again and again and again.  He talks about taking a minute long nap on the side of the bike course, and better yet, on the Porto-potty because it was so much more comfortable than his bike seat.

Most importantly he talks about the never ending mental battle, about taking it one step at a time and just moving.

I checked in, signed away my life, got my gear bags, stickers, cap, and swag.  An aside before I forget a big thank you to the incredible volunteers, without you these things simply would not run.  They made sure everything was smooth, there were so many kind smiles to ease my ever ratcheting nerves, the environment was simply joyful.  It was too early to pick up my bike, so I decided to pick up the few things I needed that I couldn't bring with me on the plane (triglide, CO2 canisters) and things I simply forgot (electrolyte tabs).

Still two hours too early to pick up my bike, so I hit walmart for the few things I needed for my special needs bags.  What am I stocking in those critical mid-bike and mid-run bags?  Orange pop, Uncrustables PB&J's and tootsie rolls.  Don't judge.  Yes I really am a five year old deep down inside :)

I checked in to the hotel to drop off my loot, went out for a late lunch and it happened.

My nerves were shot, I was ragged, I didn't know what end was up, I was frustrated with rude people (there are multitudes in Texas it seems).  My knee was very sore, my stomach was angry at too many carbs in the Italian lunch, I didn't have a plan, I didn't know what I was doing, I was spinning out of control.

And then I took a nap.

Everything was better :)

Suddenly I had a plan.  Tape knee, check.  Drink more water, check.  Drive bike course, check.  Keep head in the game- a never ending battle.

I drove the bike course from sun setting to well after, missing a few turns because it's too early to have it marked, and because it was too dark to see some of the side roads.  What a pretty ride though. Once out of town, with everything from Johnny Cash's "One Piece at a Time" to Jake Owens' "Barefoot Bluejean Night" blaring on the radio, everything just seemed right.  I didn't mind the missed turns, they helped me get the lay of the land better.

Interesting thing, while this is by no stretch a hilly course, there are a few rolling hills scattered throughout the course.  I need to remember not to take for granted the downhills, there aren't many, so appreciate them!

Also, very grateful for all of the support I know will be out there, 112 miles through the Texas country-  there are two lane backroads with speed limits of 75... And to think CT highways are 65. :). It makes me a little nervous being on the sides of these roads, don't worry I packed a terribly bright colored race top.  :) bright blue and pink, no one will miss me!

I slept well, 6.5 hours.  Not quite enough, but after a long busy day I should be able to crash early tonight without any problem and start transitioning myself over to race day wake up.

Plan for today:  breakfast- check, walk on the run course, bike pick-up and athlete info session, quick spin on the bike to run her (and me) through the paces, water temp check (looking like a wetsuit swim), athlete banquet is tonight- will try to go depending on how the day goes.  Mostly I am going to try to enjoy the weather, finish my book, lay low and drink lots of water.  This is a hell of an experience, and one I'm not going to take for granted.

Thanks for staying along for the ride guys, it's been a rocky one, but I'm here and I'm committed to keep moving until I finish or until they have to pull me from the course.

Enough?

Good Enough?
Fast Enough?
Strong Enough?

I don't know...  Good enough to compete?  Fast enough to beat the 17 hour mark?  Strong enough to finish the distance?  The truth is, I don't truly know...

We have all had those moments where we don't know what the correct decision is, the smart way to proceed, we make pros and cons, search our souls... and still can't seem to figure it out.

Thanks to many many people that have been there before, and people in similar situations, I have gotten a lot of feedback and support and overall love.  I have to tell you, thank you!  You have helped me discover the most important thing...

I am dedicated enough to start.

That's right, I'm going to Texas.   I am going to compete, I am going to strive to be fast enough for a sub 17 hour finish, and I know I am strong enough to fight the fight.

My bike shipped today.  It's official.




HOLY CRAP!

Seriously, today has been a little daunting.  The past few days, I have learned some things about myself.  I have no clue what this race will bring, I have no idea what I will feel like.  I do know that I am going to start.

I started this as a challenge to myself, knowing I could do it, and dreaming of a finish, I still believe in myself.  I have had more challenges than I expected, but I won't let it stop me.  I'm going to roll.

I am going to be careful, pay attention, and avoid injury.  There may be a time when the knee finally says enough, and I have to bow out, but then again, it may not.  I won't know unless I try- and I am not one to give up! :)

Every day we wake up to a new set of challenges, and we could crawl back in bed and hide from them, but seriously, a day in bed, alone, hiding, is creamed by a day of experience and sunshine.

I am going to rock this, and if something happens, I'm going to have a Texas sized margarita on the rocks and then cheer on every last hour finisher.

If these few ramblings haven't convinced you of what a rocky ride this has been, watch this, and then keep in mind that this triggered honest to God tears, not one glistening tear on my cheek, more along the lines of ugly cry sobbing.

Believe Video

Thanks for believing in me too!  I'm working on happy thoughts and things to tuck into my special needs bags, write on my water bottles, etc, if you have thoughts or suggestions, let me know!  I would love to bring y'all along!

Failure?

Failure has been a looming thought throughout the past few months.  My naivety and excitement the first few months kept me rolling, but as I get closer, my brain is my biggest enemy.  My biggest enemy in every aspect at this point in time.  I feel like a failure.  I set these standards, and I haven't met them.  I am having a hard time meeting the expectations of others, of doing enough, being good enough, in my own eyes, and (at least I think) in the eyes of others.

I keep expecting that perfect performance, the ideal situation.... and well... life doesn't work like that.  I work to please others, to meet expectations, and to impress, feeling that my happiness and success is dependent upon others and their judgements.  BULLSHIT!  My happiness, is just that, mine.  I give my all, my best, and if I can make it so that I enjoy the journey, the training, the job, the relationship, well then, that is happiness.

So I feel underprepared?  Do I stop?

Come on, seriously?  I have come this far, the simple answer seems to be, no way.  The more complicated answer is, no, but don't expect too much.  That still isn't the right answer.  I think I can do this, and because of that I will believe in myself until the very end.  Will you believe in me too?

My knee

Well, this is the one real barrier.  The one thing that in all reality should slow me down a bit, for my own good.  Getting off the trainer one morning, I pivoted just strangely enough that I developed immediate swelling and aching in my knee.  This would come and go as time went on.  It continues to nag, likely a torn meniscus.  At this point, its better if I don't know.  I have enough mental game issues as it is.  My promise to myself, I will ride and run through soreness, achiness, but I will not push through severe pain unless I am within 10 miles of the finish line.  

Starting over

In my head, I started over tonight.  I got my brain together, I plunked myself on the treadmill, and I ran, and ran, and ran.  A mile in, I bounced along and thought, this is happiness.  This is success.  This is who I am.  I am not a failure.

I will give it my best, my all.  I will work, I will learn.  I will play and fight.  I will keep my chin up and my teeth gritted.  If it isn't enough this time, it will be next time.  I am not a failure, I am a work in progress.  Most of all, I am happy.

Perspective

Today.... today was a crummy day, I had lots of things to complain about.  And I did.  I whined and I complained and I dreamed of something better.  Around every corner was another challenge, another something gone wrong. 

And then I read it...

Princess Lacey succumbs to cancer.

Princess Lacey was 8. 

My day rocked.

Seriously.

Everyone should hear her story, should know about the impact that she had.  Princess Lacey was an 8 year old friend of the Michigan State Senior Basketball Forward, Adreian Payne.  They met two years ago on a team visit to the children's hospital. They were good friends since that time, calling each other little sister and big brother.  Lacey was his biggest fan, attending games and creating so much inspiration along the way.  Don't believe me?  Check this out  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRmUB_OwJS4 Lacey spent the past few weeks traveling, following the team and her big brother throughout March Madness and to the Slam Dunk Competition.

Lacey had Neuroblastoma.  She had awesome doctors, and an incredible support system.  She is dancing with the angels despite all efforts. 

I plead with you tonight, rededicating myself to the whole reason why I started this Ironman battle in the first place, to help battle childhood cancer.  Let's help beat this terrible reality, the cause of a parents worst nightmare and the cause of Michigan State Basketballs heartbreak... we know this hurts even more than the Elite Eight loss. 

Please consider donating to my cause, to St. Jude.  Check out my page here.  http://heroes.stjude.org/krisironmantexas

Lacey, keep dancing, keep smiling, and may everyone whose life she touched make a difference.

My day was not terrible, it just needed some perspective.

Out to Surprise myself

So we know that this season has not gone as planned.  I am not a model Ironman trainee.  My knee has yelled uncle with a torn meniscus.  My race is 6-weeks away and I feel very under-prepared.  However, despite all of this, I am thinking positive.  I am not allowing negative thoughts to enter my brain.  Chin up, keep moving.

Tomorrow I face my biggest challenge, and I fear that it will likely be the make or break of my plan.  I signed up for a half marathon, and I plan to take the long way to the race by bike.  I also hope to snarf down a little bit of food and then keep trudging along for as far as I can.  It was a joke started by my husband. 

My initial plan was to bike to the race, have hubby pick up my bike and then run the race and have him pick me up after he finished work.  He joked, "oh? You're not going to run home afterward?"  And it hit me, I probably can.  Not that I should be running all the way home after a half marathon, but another 7 or 8 miles really wouldn't be bad.  I can do that, right?  So here I am attempting it, with phone in hand, to cry uncle when the time comes- because it is 20 miles home- and that isn't going to happen :)

So 45 miles to the race, half marathon, and then a few miles afterwards.  Sounds like a plan, I can do this.  I'm going to surprise everyone, and mostly, myself :)

Its getting hot in here

...let me put on more clothes... :) 

One thing I have not been able to prepare myself for is the Texas heat.  Tonight at the beginning of my after work run at 8pm... is was 43 degrees outside, and 77 degrees in The Woodlands, TX, and it was 69 degrees on my treadmill.  So I layered up, put my hood up and ran.  I figure it is the closest thing that I can do to replicating the heat, in addition, of course, to praying that it isn't wicked hot on race day! 

I am up against a lot.  I know that.  I know my training hasn't been perfect.  I know my knee is not even close to 100%, I know that Texas is hot and CT is cold. 

I also know that I am stronger than all the negative.  I know that my mind and body are strong.  I know that I have a desire for the finish line that conquers all negativity.  I know I will be ready, and I know that there is nothing that I would rather be doing.

Big props to a high school classmate on his third Ironman finish, under 11 hours in Los Cabos.  An incredible athlete, an inspiration, and an amazing resource- thank you for your teaching!

Now its my turn to ask you all for help.  I am racing for St Jude.  Raising money to beat down childhood cancer.  Please consider donating, help me make a difference in these kids lives.  They have much harder and longer battles than I, this is the least I can do.  I would love it if you would partner with me!


Donate to my race here

I wouldn't want to be anywhere else

How often is this actually true?  We spend our days wishing for better, for different, wishing we didn't have to be at work, or commuting, or at the doctor's office, in a meeting, waiting in line at the grocery store.  We don't want to be any of these places- ever.  And when we are suffering through a workout, or struggling with something, well, we don't want to be there either.... oh boy, are we high maintenance or what?!

And by we, I of course mean me.  Seriously, we spend our days wishing we were someone else, something else, or plain old somewhere else.  While spending multiple hours in my dining room over the past few weeks, I developed a mantra.  "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."  It was born from a statement that I heard someone make amidst an Ironman race.  Walking on the run course, this young lady grinned at the camera and said, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!"  Mind over matter, and its the truth.  Completing this race, checking off my training sessions, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. 

Something has come to my realization with all this positive thinking.  I am going to do another Ironman.  Prior to right this second, I have always said, "I'm not sure" when people ask if I will do another after Texas.  I wanted to see how this one went, and see if I hated it.  I loved the half distance so much, I didn't know if I would want to do a full more than once.  Now I know- I have to do another one.  I have to, because my training for this one has been a joke at best.  Life has gotten in the way, lack of motivation and structure, indoor training and EXCUSES have all lead me to a point when I simply aim to finish.  In theory, that has been my goal all along, "I just want to finish." 

This is actually true.  I will be so content and happy with myself if I can drag myself across the finish line in one piece.  The bigger truth is though, that I will always wonder, "what if I had trained better? what if I could have ridden outside more? what if the planets aligned perfectly?"  I have learned a  lot in this experience, and I haven't even raced yet.  In fact, I feel like I have bobbled much of my training.  Knowing that, I know that Texas will be a once in a lifetime experience that I will need to repeat at least once, because, "what if?"  And really, because I owe it to myself. 

So going forward, there is no where I would rather be, and I thank all of you for supporting me along the way!

Wake Up Call

Well, I got my wish.  I had weather that cooperated enough for my first outdoor ride of the year.  It acted as a bit of a reality check, and was nothing anywhere close to the confidence booster that I hoped it would be.

Bundled up and off I went.  Feathering the brakes down the big hills and around corners.I felt incredible!  Ahh, to be outside, and actually going somewhere.  My heartrate was not where it should be, first warning sign.  I figured it would be ok, that it would settle.  And it did, but still not into the zone where it should have been.  I was pedaling along at an 18mph clip with occasional bumps a bit higher. 

Hit the shore and the winds put me in my place.  I dreamed of the Kona winds that everyone talk about, and pushed through.  A quick glance at my computer showed that my speed had slowed to between 11mph-15mph.  Oh. Boy.  The trainer had not gotten me ready for this.  I had some work to do.

Worked my way through towns on Route 1, the winds were still kicking, but not as hard.  I made the turn north and now.... the hills.  Something else the trainer really doesn't simulate well.  Oh. Boy.  Now my heartrate is toast.  Too little too late I start paying attention.  Trying to keep it where it should be.  Two hours in and the tank is rapidly emptying.  Hill.  Hill. Hill.  Oh. Boy.  Three hours in and 5 miles from home, I made it, I did it, but it wasn't pretty.

Things that kept me going:
1)  I wasn't at home.  Had I hit a wall like that in my dining room, I'm not sure I would have been able to keep going.

2) Outside!  I had 8000000 things to think about other than, "my ass hurts."  Namely the pretty shitty roads.  This was an upside and a downside.  Between traffic and the road conditions, I did not eat or drink as often as I should have.  I only made it through a little over a bottle on a 3+ hour ride.  Jeeze... feeling like a major rookie.

3) "Texas won't be like this"  Seriously, hills, cold, salt on the roads... etc etc etc.  I can only hope that a flat ride will go better than that ride did.

4) Aloe Blacc- "I'm the Man"  Enough said.

5) I knew I could do it.  It sucked, it was a huge jump into the deep end, and it was not nearly as fast as I thought I could be.  But I knew I could do it.

I did it, but the whole rest of the night all I could think was, "what have I gotten myself into?"  I'm not ready.  I'm not prepared.  It took me three hours to ride 45 miles.  How am I going to make the cutoff times for Texas?  I can't go down there not to finish.  Etc etc etc for hours :)

This morning, I have recovered, my legs feel ok, and my confidence is not as rattled.  I have two months.  The race is not next week, it is two+ months away, and hopefully those next two months will bring cooperative weather and many many outdoor rides.

Oh. Boy.  It can only get better, right? :)



   

Biking my ass off

It is 19 degrees outside... do you have any idea how cold that is?  Crimony.... That along negates any possibility of an outdoor bike.  Not to mention the wonderful quality of the roads.  I keep praying for a warm up, I am less than three weeks away from a half ironman that I need to do, and I can't imagine doing it inside.  Come on Spring!!!

Tonight, however, my ass was parked on the trainer yet again.  My forever patient husband waited for me to finish my workout so we could have dinner together.  An hour on the bike of pretty consistent pacing and variable cadences.  Upright and aero, standing and simulating a climb, and sprinting with a high cadence, it was a variable ride.  The whole time I remembered... how much I love to bike.  I only discovered this two years ago, and bought my first bike February 2012.  Goodness knows that I have many lessons to learn, but I really do love this.  As much as my ass protests the long ride, and especially the indoor monotony, tonight, I had so much fun. 

Tonight as I sit watching The Voice with my hubs, I have a smile pasted on my face.  I had an awesome night, I have an awesome life.  That's really all I have to say :)