Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

One week bike rental $265

Luggage fee to haul helmet, cycle gear and shoes $25

A new focus and motivation by knowing the course PRICELESS

"That course is flat as a pancake, piece of cake" I call BULLSHIT. While the course is not hilly, nor the most challenging course I've ridden, I can certainly say it's not flat. As a smart person on Facebook said: "didn't we learn from Columbus that nothing is really flat?"

Since my parents moved to Rio Verde I've driven the Bee Line highway countless times. Going 80 miles an hour, it feels pretty flat and the inclines fly by. Nothing could prepare me better than riding the course myself. 

I went back and forth about renting a bike while I was home for Christmas. It's a lot of money, time away from my parents, a lot of extra shit to haul 3,000 miles. But I'm so glad that I did. I'm a big fan of bullets, so here's what I learned:

• Computrainer is WORTH EVERY PENNY!!! I dread going because I know it's an ass kicking, I leave feeling strong like a motherfuckin' ox. I cleared 22 miles in 1:18. My first sprint tri in 2011 it took me 56 minutes to go 10 miles. I'm faster and stronger. and there's still 11 months to go before race day! (disclaimer: my bike is definitely better than the '11 one)
• The last mile before the turnaround on the course is a challenge. It's not flat. In fact the last 4 or 5 miles is a false flat.
• Like a bad case of herpes (so I've heard), the wind can flare up outta no where.
• It's dry. It's been 10 years since I've lived here and I forgot how dry it is. My entire nasal system is dry (how does my nose then drip like a faucet??) and my lips get dry. Pack lots of aquaphore, check.

I want to go harder and better. I want to get faster and rock this race. This experience gives me an entire new focus and dedication to my training. Riding this course made it more real. I will push myself a little more each day.

Crazy to think in 11 months, god willing, I'll be an IRONMAN. Crossing that finish line where I started the journey 15 years ago, to live my life to the fullest. Crazy to think that 15 years ago, when I started that journey I wanted to die. The pain of the journey was just too great and I didn't think I could go on. A story for another time, but I'm so glad I dug in and fought my fears, because the reward is sweet.

I can't wait to go harder. be better. go faster. feel stronger.

"You know that feeling when you're in too deep, and then you make it out, the taste so sweet. sweet" -Dave Matthews

Merry Christmas and thank you to my parents, family and friends for all your support.

I thought this only happened in movies... and Hong Kong

I ran over to Ohio with my friend Marti to cheer her on in a cyclocross race. (by ran I mean we drove hellof fast in a soccer mom minivan) After watching her badass bike moves on the course we headed our adventure back home. I must say I find this style of racing intriguing, but I will wait until after IMAZ to give it a whirl. Not to mention slinging my ham hock thighs over the bike frame to hurl myself up muddy hills would be quite a challenge on its own.

After a short adventure at the Griswold style cut your own Christmas tree farm and a tasty lunch at a local Cracker Barrel wanna be dairy we got into a conversation about massages. I recalled my trip to Hong Kong in 2006 and got a in-room massage after a long 29 hour trip. The tiny little lady that showed at my door was practically dropping from the ceiling jamming her elbows into my back. I was screaming in pain into the pillow and ever so grateful when the 30 minutes was up.

So this afternoon I went in for my massage as I decided to try Massage Envy. I had another tiny Chinese woman give me a great massage, she did a great job of readjusting her pressure based on my reactions to the discomfort. I must say I really miss the days of when a massage meant a wonderful, relaxing experience which usually included a nap. She tells me that the muscle running on the outside of my shin bone is the tightest she's ever felt, no wonder my ankle was a hot mess a few weeks ago. She rubbed my lower back and it felt like she was rubbing bone, but it was a fucking tight muscle. She slowly worked it out and I was happy to find someone who was able to give me a deep tissue massage with the all the effectiveness without bringing me to tears of pain.

Then, the craziest thing happened. No, not that Gary, get your head out of the gutter. She climbed up on the table and started using her knees to massage my glutes (ass for those that don't know...) WTF. I was dumb founded and surprisingly amazed/embarrassed at how well it worked. Then she stands up and uses one heel of her foot to dig into my hamstrings. Double WTF. Sister has some good balance, was she in Cirque du Soleil?? (good thing I googled that first, I've been spelling it wrong all these years) Isn't this the shit that happens in movies?

It was weird, but nearly as weird as creepy Vicky at LTF and so fucking effective, so I rebooked. I guess I can live with weirdness if it works as foam rolling was SO much less painful tonight.

time to go decorate my tree so my ornament isn't alone on the tree

Dizzy from all this spinning

IMAZ is less than a year away. I've really embraced my training and have done more in the last four weeks than I think I did all last season. After reviewing my training "plan" I built from last year with people, the common reply was "how did you finish??" Which I said "fuck if I know!"

Let's be honest my plan was:

-Run/walk 3 days a week with BOMF

-Bike 1 day a week with the cycle group and toward the end at the Cycle Studio

-Swim two days a week, But in all honesty I usually overslept and missed

-One open water swim a week which I refused to try to do the full 1.2 mile lap figuring I was slow and would hold everyone up

Between Muncie and Cedar Point I was on my bike 2 times, one of which was the Chicago Tri.

Christ on roller skates. That half took me more than 9 hours and no way should have. Lesson learned.

So LTF had a contest to send in your story for some sweet prizes. I decided to figure out a way to try to summarize my story enough for them to be at least mildly interested to read it. So I'm going to share what I submitted as I doubt mine will ever get selected. For me there's some brutal, blunt in your fucking face honesty down below..

Many people don't know why I even started all of this in the first place. So here's the 30,000 feet view. Why do I stay? Because of shit like the last four weeks and today. If I can see that much improvement in four weeks, then what can I see in a year. I CAN finish that full 140.6 miles in a few more hours it took me to go 70.3. Holy Fuck, that's mind blowing to me. It's a long road and I have little room for error, but I'm off to a good start.

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Have you ever tried on a wetsuit? Well, when you're overweight, it reminds you of a sausage being stuffed into a casing. I tried to avoid having to face the wetsuit for months, but when you're a triathlete swimming in 62 degree water, you can't avoid it. I've been writing funny little passages on my blog called "Sausage in a Wetsuit" that show the real side of a triathlete who doesn't look like a triathlete going for real and tough goals.

My journey is like so many others, trying to lose weight and maintain a healthy lifestyle. Where my story continues to be real is I haven't achieved maintained success on the first try, or the fifth try. I'm still working on it and I'm still fighting with struggles. I read so many stories where someone gets the motivation to get their life together and boom, at the end of the story, they've gotten it and they're maintaining it. What about the rest of us? The ones that lose 40 pounds, keep it off, but still struggle to get the other 60 pounds off, then eventually put 10 back on? That's my story.

In August 2009 I was woken up by a phone call by my Lifetime Fitness trainer. I had overslept my session AGAIN, money wasted by my lack of motivation. Katie asked me the question of my life "what's going on with you?" My response broke me immediately into tears and I couldn't hide any longer. My eating, my health, MY LIFE was out of control; I didn't love myself and spent all my time taking care of others instead of myself. I needed help so I finally swallowed my pride and asked for it. I worked with my trainer and nutritionist to work on a plan that focused on proper exercise and eating, mainly portion control and I lost 40 pounds in 4 months.

My friend challenged me to a half marathon in Miami Beach in March 2010. I accepted the challenge and registered. Although in the back of my mind I figured I'd end up dropping out and cheering her on. I signed up for a training class and the first training run I walked. And I struggled to even walk a mile. My ankles burned and were tight, I was miserable. I told the coach I was going to quit, but he told me come back, go a step further every time, and every time it would hurt just a little bit less. I made it to the finish line of that race. Once I did, I was hooked, I ran 3 more half marathons that year; slow and usually one of the last to finish, but I finished.

In 2011 I decided I wanted to get into triathlons. Knowing nothing about the sport, I bought a hybrid bike and entered my first sprint distance. I prepared by going to spin classes, joining the LTF Master's Swim and keeping up my running. The first time I went to try on a tri kit I had to purchase from the men's selection and felt like I was wrapped in plastic wrap. My feet hit the pool deck with huge thuds compared to the small and trim athletes around me. It was really the first time in my life I couldn't hide behind clothes, all my rolls and fat where on display for everyone to see. I saw my cycle instructor and was introduced to some other members who would later become some of my best friends. I finished the season having completed four sprint triathlons and the Chicago Lifetime Fitness Olympic distance triathlon. Pretty much dead last, but I've got the medals and finisher times forever.

In 2012 I upped my game. I registered for 2 half marathons, 2 sprint tris, 3 Olympic and 2 Half Iron distances (70.3 - one of which would be downsized due to weather). I joined a tri team and found a community of support that I didn't know existed. I knew that when I joined that tri team my life would change forever and I really debated if I was ready for it. I got a fancy tri bike and had all the equipment, I looked the part. But I still was a good 80 pounds heavier than my competitors, so by the sheer fact of physics, I usually finished last. I started a blog to document all the humorous things that happened to me along the way. On this blog I revealed my inner most secrets and fears, I figured if I was going to heal and be able to continue to improve my life, I had to put brutal honesty online for anyone and everyone to read. This blog ended up inspiring many and people I didn't even know would come up to me at the gym recognizing me from reading my blog after friends had shared it. I became the underdog that everyone cheered for. Some races I wanted to quit, and  it took every ounce of my courage to keep going, but knowing that I had a ton of blog followers that didn't want to read about me quitting keep me digging deep. I had friends emailing me telling me how I had inspired them to change their life.

When the day came that I competed in my first 70.3 race I took my spot at the back of the line like usual. But the emotion of accomplishment took over me. I found myself crying many times on the bike and run, crying because I was so PROUD of myself. Proud of what I was doing, my determination and my drive. When I got off the bike and started the run, I told a friend cheering me on that I couldn't walk a mile 3 years ago, but today I was going to be a half ironman and go 70.3 miles. I enjoyed every minute of that miserable 13.1 mile run. I rubbed terrible blisters and could feel every ounce of fat on my bones. But I kept a smile and cheered everyone else running with me on the course. I entered the finisher's chute and the tears dried, the pride beamed from my eyes and my smile couldn't be missed. The announcer made a big deal of my finish and I was greeted by all my friends. The race was not easy, it took me more than 9 hours. When I finished there were people finishing their 140.6 race at the same time. But I didn't let it tarnish the feeling I had that day. I did it and I wanted more.

I've finished 12 half marathons, 6 sprint triathlons, 4 olympic triathlons and one 70.3 triathlon in 30 months and all at approximately 225 pounds. I have registered for the 2013 Ironaman Arizona on November 13. I have under a year to lose about 80 pounds (an Olsen twin as I like to joke) so I can compete to the best of my ability in the race of my life. Every race I know that my weight holds me back from getting faster. I know this is the key to going from completing to competing. People are amazed at what I've accomplished at my weight and I know that I've got more to accomplish. I know that I can do this with loving myself and the support of all my amazing family and friends.

This is where my story ends, for now. As the days ahead of me unfold I'm working to raise more than $10,000 for Back on My Feet in honor of my first Ironman (a program that helps homeless veterans repair their lives through the base of a running program, where I volunteer 3 days a week to run with veterans at 5:45 AM). I'm also working to lose at least 50 pounds before the next triathlon season starts, building my base and increasing my strength. My hope is that when I go to get a new wetsuit in the spring, I'll feel more like a cocktail weenie than a sausage in the dressing room.

blog is sausageinawetsuit.blogspot.com - note: content contains explicit language

70.3 Done and DONE!

Ima. Half. Ironman.

Cedar Point 70.3 has come and gone and I'm still standing to tell about it. It was by far the most challenging day in my life. Yet, it is the most rewarding feeling and I still stop to pinch myself because I can't believe that I carried myself 70.3 miles. I didn't have to crawl or quit.

The morning started early as every triathlon morning does. Our bikes had to be racked the night before so I just had to set up transition and I was ready. I had printed and laminated a picture of Joe and I to put on my bike and carry on the run, I was going to look at it whenever I needed a boost or felt like I couldn't go on. By the time I got to set up the picture was gone. I was upset, but Marti told me, that's Joe's way of saying "You got this" with his signature laugh and smile. They were right, I did have this.

Swim
The water temp was 74.5, so about 95% of the field wore wetsuits. After my terrible swim in Chicago I decided to forgo the rubber suit of hell. As I walked around the swimmers I got the look. The look of "she's REALLY going to do this?" It still really blows my mind how much people can show their judgment on their faces; I like to believe they just don't realize it. Swimming in Lake Erie is hands down better than Lake Michigan off the shore of Chicago. The water is shallow so we had to start about 100 yards out and you had to walk for about 100 yards after the start. The water was really too shallow for dolphin dives, but too shallow to run, really quit annoying. The currents going out were pretty bad, I thought I was never going to get to the orange buoy; (orange is turn, yellow is sighting) as I was swimming out the first leg the song "you're not alone" was in my head because I felt like I was alone in the water. The course was in the shape of a triangle, so the second leg was parallel to the shore, that swim wasn't too bad. I didn't have a song stuck in my head, just kept saying, "just don't drown." The last leg was into shore with the tides bringing you back but it seemed to take a while too. As soon as I turned to make my way to shore the song "I'm coming home" was playing my head. I really am my own jukebox; I don't even listen to either song. I was so relieved to see the water get lighter which meant it was more shallow and I was getting closer. A cramp set in my left foot that hurt like a bitch so as soon as I could stand I did to stretch the fucker out. I heard a collective "SWIM" from Andrea and Marti on shore so I dropped and swam. They laughed after how quickly I listened and dropped. Getting out of the swim I couldn't focus on anything and felt like I was coming out of a bar after a night of drinking but made my way to T1 where my bike was one of the few left :( I was in the last wave and it took me about an hour to swim 1.2 miles.

Bike
Since I was one of the last out onto the bike course it was like I was riding alone. I guess it's a good thing I've spent most of the season out on the course alone at the end of the pack. I'm used to it. While it bothers me that I'm that slow, it doesn't bother me enough to impact my performance. The first half is pretty flat with some rollers until you get to about mile 20 where you hit a fun set of hills. There was one where I was going 5mph up the hill. As I was coming into mile 15 I started to see all my teammates come back to finish the bike; I made sure to cheer for everyone, even if I couldn't tell who they were as they whizzed by me (everyone looks the same in a helmet and I haven't learned everyone's bikes yet). About mile 25 is where it happened.

I look down, 12mph. Fuck. again 10mph. FUCK. 8.7 MPH FUCKFUCKITYFUCKFUCKFUCK. My first true bonk on the bike. Damn it. This part of the course is small rollers so I decide I need to get off the bike to rest a minute. I was going to lay in the grass and stretch but I didn't want the other bikers (full iron distance loops twice) to think I was dead and stop. (Triathletes are pretty considerate of each other.) I get off and stretch while holding onto my bike and take a unscheduled gel (good thing I learned early on to bring extra!) and some water. I get back on and manage 15 mph for most of the ride. I even find times where I'm back up to 21 mph so I'm not going to complain. I found myself starting to think "so and so is off the bike, so and so is probably close to finishing" and I decided to shut those voices out. It was MY race. The goal was to finish, so shut the fucking committee in your head off and just finish.Around mile 50 I realize I'm about 18 miles away from becoming a half ironman. I immediately start bawling with tears of pride. Sausage is doing this. I'm really doing this.

Run
I saw some of my T3 teammates with medals around their necks as they cheered me onto the run. I was so proud that they had finished, I knew some of them had taken home age group awards. I passed many friends making their way back as I was just starting. Normally I'd let this bother me, but no damnit, it was MY race. This was my mantra during the run. I had fun cheering everyone on that I passed. Giving words of encouragement to those who were finishing the half "There's a huge party at the finish waiting for you!" and to those who were only on loop 1 of 2 for the full 140.6 distance. I had a pro female pat me on the back as she ran by and said "you rock." I had another male pro tell me "You are such an inspiration to everyone out here" and yet another guy say "You are my inspiration to finish this. I couldn't stop crying on the run. It was a very emotional experience for me. I was thinking of everything that had changed in my life, everything I had sacrificed to get to this moment. I thought about the person that doubted me when I went to run my first half marathon. Between all the cheering and accolades from people on the course, it finally struck me. I INSPIRE PEOPLE. I've half believed it, but this time it sunk in and I believed it in my head AND heart.

As I ran down the street I heard "fuck you shorty" "give me my fucking money you dirty hoe" and realized I was running by a huge domestic dispute outside a house. I thought "keep your head down, don't make eye contact." As I turned the corner to escape a guy came by and said "we're not going to finish our first race because we got shot in the crossfire." Hahah, he read my mind. At the turn around I asked the staff member (between big sobs; I'm surprised he could understand me) if I finished after 8:30 would I still get my medal and finisher's shirt. He just laughed and told me to keep going, there was a huge crowd waiting to cheer me on at the finish. He must have been worried about my well-being because he came up a half mile later to ask me if I was okay. I just sobbed I'm em-ot-ionallll. He just laughed and said it was okay and to run like the wind.

My teammate Scott met me at mile 10 to cheer me on, a much needed boost at the end, his smile meant a lot. Then the party bus came around to honk and cheer. Marti, Andrea and Michelle were hooting and hollering from the road for me to finish. I saw Michelle's finisher medal, I wanted it, so I dug in and finished strong. As I came in to the finish area I saw Elyssa, Josh, Greg, Kim and Todd cheering me on. I rounded the corner and could hear the announcer talking about a finisher, I realized he was talking about ME! With all the crying I had done on the course, I only teared up on the last corner, then it all turned into a huge SMILE. Everyone was there to applaud my finish. I attempted a cartwheel to finish, but only had the energy to do half of one, so I guess it kinda looked like a sideways handstand.

El. Fin.
I cannot describe how it felt to finish. To know I had done it, I had met my goal. I wasn't happy with my time, but I can figure out later how to improve for next season. For now I'm going to enjoy the glory and pride. I'm still in awe of myself and so incredibly grateful for everyone who supported me through this.

This season hasn't been easy. A lot has changed in my life this summer. I'm a different girl coming out than what went in. I've gained a lot of friends, lost touch with a few, but I'm doing it all for me. I'm doing things I want to do that are making me a healthier person and ultimately a better person.

To be honest, I didn't deserve to finish. My schedule since Muncie has been nuts and I've let training slip to a low priority. Since Muncie I was on my bike a handful of times, mileage was low. The highest was 25 miles with the Chicago Tri. I hadn't been swimming. So I can't be anything but grateful that I was able to finish. I am disappointed to know that had I used those 8 weeks to really dig in, I could have probably crushed that course. The story of my life.

I'm done with saying I could have. I can and I will. The off season has finally started and it's time to dig into my goals. Lose weight, build strength and work in my zones to build my base. Ironman Arizona is 14 months away. 140.6 will be mine. Stay tuned..

Sausage in a Wetsuit returns

44 minutes, 2,640 seconds.  That's the difference in my '12 Chicago tri from '11. I was honestly hoping to break 4 hours, but  a 44 minute improvement in a year is a pretty good consolation prize.

For the first time this season I wasn't disappointed with my performance. I gave it my all and left it all on the course. My sciatic nerve was not happy that weekend and the aftermath was definitely clear as I was walking like I had been rode a horse all weekend.

Seeing that it was lake Michigan I decided to bring out my wetsuit for this race. I lubed up with spray triglide in the hotel room before we left for the start line. It's been two months since I last wore it, so I'm a little out of practice getting that bitch on. My nails were longer, so I had to be careful not to punch a hole. I started to waddle down the hallway. Luckily Brian recommended a cab to the start line, so I didn't have to waddle the .75 miles to the start line (god bless my friends!)

As soon as I hopped in the water to bob like a sea of apples in the lake with my start wave, I knew it was going to be a frustrating swim. I felt constricted and it was hard to breath. I would swim about 200 meters and then need a break to get some air. So I would try breaststroking so I could at least keep forward movement. Sausage shoved in a wetsuit does not stroke anything well. It was impossible, so I would kinda doggy paddle forward a few seconds to get a breath and then keep going. The end buoy seems to move, it takes FOREVER to get to that fucker. Lesson 1: I had better sleep in my wetsuit to get ready for IMAZ next year.

The run to T1 is more than .25 miles. This year they put carpeting down the entire way which was awesome. However, it was a slippery little fucker. I almost fell a dozen times so I decided to walk because my luck I would have ate it. As I moved out of T1 a nice storm was rolling in and down came the rain. Good think I forgot my sunglasses at the hotel.

Out on the ride my new wheels were cutting through the wind. I was passing people left and right and they were staying passed (usually they pop back up). I got a "that's an awesome bike" (compared to last year "you're doing this race on THAT bike?") The wind in our face going North on Lakeshore Drive was ridiculous. I thought "I can't wait to have that shit at my back when I turn around." I turned around,  and the wind was twice as bad. The wind WAS at my back. About mile 12 I thought something dropped off my bike but I couldn't see anything so I kept going. A few seconds later I couldn't pedal. Fuck. So I got off and find that my spare tube had fallen off my repair pouch. It was stuck in my crank. I finally got it untangled and secured it (I'm sure it's trashed). Now to put my chain back on with tons of bikes coming at me (I kept imagining someone flying right into me). Finally after about 5 minutes I got it put back on and grease was smeared all over me head to toe. One of my favorite spin instructors, Sharon, came up behind me at mile 24 and we rode the last mile in together. All and all I was pleased, I managed 18mph in the wind. For the first time I really felt like I was racing out on the bike, it was a high like no other.

The run was a shuffle at best. My lower back was super tight from my sciatic nerve issues so I walked the first two miles and popped some advil. Finally it loosened up and I was able to jog. Last year I finished after all the pros. This year the men did lap me, but it was pretty cool to be able to cheer for Hunter Kemper. I was the last person to congratulate him as we both entered the finishers shoot (any guess who they announced finishing? hahah) The women didn't lap me, so that's a small victory. I spent the last mile throwing out high fives to people I passed as they were just starting the run. I just love cheering for everyone. Lesson 2: It poured the entire run, I need to run more in the rain because I hate when my face is wet and I can't dry it.

I was thankful to see my pit crew at the finish line. Brian, Jen and Marci were there, soaking wet, cheering loud for me. Thanks guys for coming out! We got back to the hotel and I almost killed myself as I slipped on the carpet where I had sprayed the triglide. That shit is slippery!

As I was out on the course I reflected on a few things:
-When the fuck did everyone else get so fast? I finished 44 minutes earlier than last year, but I still finished dead last in my division and was one of the last few out on the course.
-I need to let go of my expectations about my times and performance. I cannot compare myself to others, especially since I am still carting around that Olsen twin. It's going to make my times slower, no matter how much I want to believe it doesn't matter.
-I need to dump that bitch. Racing would be more fun, training would be easier and I'd get to have a beer before the tent closes. I read a funny article in USA Triathlete "Thoughts from the back of the pack" I was laughing out loud when I was reading it because it was o' so true. I want to know what it's like from the middle of the pack.
-And I want to know what it's like from the front of the pack. Because I have a feeling that when I do ditch the Olsen (and I will) that I will be on the heels of my idols; those ladies in my life that are leading the pack at races.
-I need to respect the race. No matter the distance, it is a race that needs proper prep. I am happy with my performance given the condition I was in when I arrived at the race. But I need to arrive in better condition. I need to get more sleep, more hydration and feeling better. I have decided to do these races, so I need to prioritize it appropriately in my schedule.
-I'm not 23 anymore and I can't do it all and I'm pretty tired from trying. I need to cut down to what's important and say no to the rest. I'm almost 33 but I keep myself programmed non-stop like I'm 23 and I need to realize 10 years does make a difference even though I want to pretend it doesn't...

Overall, finally a race with very few mishaps. "Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors"

Where'd that truck come from?

Less than 12 hours later I feel like I got run over by a truck. Where'd that fucker go?

Tri Indy tried my patience and my memory. It might have been one of the worst races of the season, but you know what? I finished strong, with a huge smile on my face and sprinting (yes, sprinting) across the finish.

My bright pink swim cap and I jumped into the canal. Those waves can really get moving with that many people swimming in the canal. Luckily this year no one tried to hitch a ride by grabbing onto my ankle. I did get punched in the whohaw (how the fuck do you swim with a closed fist?) and I looked up to sight and about ran into a guy walking (hello DQ) in the middle of the canal. I got out of the swim and now owned an orange cap. Yeah, you figure that one out.

It was great to see my fellow BoMF'er Melissa in transition and it was nice to have a familiar smiling face waiting by my transition spot.

I was pretty happy with the start of my bike. We had a hurricane come through Indianapolis this morning that delayed the start of the race (okay, so my nose grows a small bit with that description) which caused an hour delay and a shitton of debris in the road. This course is notorious for less-than-ideal roads, so bumps are pretty common. Before I got to mile 7 I saw 15 people fixing flats on the side of the road. Each one I passed I offered assistance and then thanked god and baby jesus that wasn't me. Despite the shitty conditions, I was keeping 18 mph on my cateye. Around mile 7.5 I thought to myself "boy this road is awful bumpy" and then I realized my back tire was flat. Fuckmerunning.

I had never changed a tire in the real world, just in a class. So this was going to test my memory. What do I do with this thingymabob again? Where do I start? It started slowly coming back to me. I was pleasantly surprised with how many people asked if I needed anything and every team member shouted "Chrissy are you okay?" I took the tube out and had a TINY hole in my tube. Who knows how long it had been there. I tried to run my hand on the inside of the tire to check for anything and thought it was clear so I put the new tube in. I got the wheel back on after spending five minutes struggling with my chain (testing my patience and covering my hand in black grease, which would later spread to my face and every part of my uniform). As soon as I put the CO2 in it, I could hear a slow hissing. Fuck! Was it human error? Was there something in there I didn't feel? I didn't want to waste another tube in case it was my fuckup so I started on my way. As I left my spot, my teammate Julie had come back to help  - what a sweetheart!

I had to stop 3 times to top off my tire with my other CO2 canister. This was trying my patience. Not only is my little pouch under my seat a pain in the ass to get into, you have to wait for an opening in traffic to rejoin the race. I figure this clusterfuck cost me about 25 minutes in all. Needles to say I'm so glad I didn't race on my new ZIPPS and I need to host a tire changing party to practice.

I started out on the run pretty strong, running most of the way through the path along the zoo. I am so fucking sick of hearing "good for you for just being out here!" from people as the pass me. Yes, nice of you to encourage me. But it's not my first fucking race. Errr. More motivation I guess to lose weight so people stop taking pity on my slow ass pace and then I can pick up the fucking pace. Sydney came up along me with about .7 miles left and I ran the rest of the way with her. I can guarantee you that I would have walked some of that if she hadn't been there - so thank you Sydney for showing me that I CAN run more than I think!

All and all I'm not happy with today. I don't understand how I feel so beat up after a simple fucking sprint tri but finished a 40 mile tri feeling after like I could leap small buildings in a single bound.

But this is all about what you learn. Negative attitudes don't do shit but keep you negative. So on the bright side I got to spend time with the wonderful triathletes in town, many who have become my friends. I got to have a fun car ride with my friend Party Marti and I now know what it feels like to change a tire under the pressure of a race. I was greeted at the finish line by a facebook friend I finally go to meet in person! After the race I got to help little kids do a triathlon. I got to bike for the people who can't. I got to run in honor of my favorite BoMF'ers that no longer can (God I miss you Joe! Your spirit kept me company on the run)

Tri or tri not. There is only do.

Fit Flex Fly

Try saying that three times fast. Hell, I can barely get it out right one time.

As I was walking toward F3 to go to my first TRX class there some nice asshat said to me "are you really sure you can do that workout? Hanging from straps attached to the ceiling. Shouldn't you try Curves first?" Seriously? Who the fuck says that kind of stuff to people? It was a woman coming out of Curves. I wanted to say, shouldn't you stick your head up your ass and put your hat on? But I didn't. I just said "yeah, it's pretty fun." Just another day in my life with this new path I've chosen. People doubting your abilities just by looking at you.

So I walk into F3 and am greeted by a fist bump from the owner, Mark. He has a nice sense of humor and a kind way of encouraging you.

The class was awesome: loud and fast-paced music, lots of variety that keeps your HR UP, circuits, stretching and a super quick run to warm up. Add in a class with lots of fun and young professionals, free water and towels and I have to ask you what's not to love.

I hung pretty well with the class. Sweating a shitton and am most positive I'll be feeling it tomorrow.

So to the woman who tried to sell me on curves? No fuckyou very much.

Better late than never - Muncie 70.3

It finally came! Muncie 70.3 37.2. Yes, 37.2. I finished, and here's the summary.

I was disappointed that the expo for my first IM70.3 was pretty small and quite pathetic. But that didn't detour me from buying a bike jersey, visor, tshirt, coffee mug and water bottle. (no fucking wonder I'm broke.) I sat in the crowded athlete's meeting and the race director nonchalantly walks up to the podium and says it's been changed to a modified olympic. The room goes silent, but we're all thinking he's joking. Um, no, he keeps talking about the shortened course. Immediately my heart sinks. All that training, all that hype, my parents and best friend have flown in. Seriously, they've flown from the east and west coast to see me do a fucking oly? Wait, I paid $225 for a fucking oly? Most expensive oly E-V-E-R.

I also have to point out that everyone I introduced my mom to, she started by saying "nice to meet you, I swear she didn't get her bad mouth from me." bwhahaha

So they shortened it because the predicted weather for the race was 115 with the heat index. In all honesty, it was a smart decision. There's not only for the athletes (which triathletes are not known for taking a break when they should stop because they are pushing heat stroke), but for all the volunteers and spectators. Races wouldn't happen without the wonderful volunteers. Thanks to my parents, and wonderful friends Andrea, Brian and Charlie for volunteering at the race!!! :)

So to prove that triathletes are terrible at knowing when to take a breather, yours truly developed a terrible cough 3 days prior to the race. I even had a fever Friday night and probably had no business racing. But I did anyway, I never claimed to be smart.

The swim went well. I think it was longer than a mile according to my garmin (I hugged the hell out of the inner buoys). I was happy that I kept up with the wave fairly well for most of the course. Although it's always depressing to see another color swim cap come through the wave. and another. and another. The entire swim my shorts kept coming off! I couldn't get from one buoy to the next without having to pull my shorts up off my upper thighs. Halfway through I even tread water so I could tie them tighter. Still didn't work. I'm just glad I didn't lose my shorts, that would have been one shitty T1 time. And I'm pretty sure you get DQ'd for nudity.

I get on my bike and take off onto the hills out of the area. I realize something is flapping against my leg. Fuck me running, it's my bento box. It had come unstrapped when I transported my bike that morning and I forgot to check it (I took the front wheel off for the first time and turned the handle bars different in the car). If I kept going I was going to lose most of my nutrition and salt stick tablets. I wasn't coordinated enough to fix it while pedaling, because of course it was jimmy-rigged, so I had to get off and fix it. Well getting back into "traffic" on the bike course was ridiculous so I waited for like a good minute before I could "merge" back on course.

The bike course was fast! The first large flat I was about 25 mph. The second time I came through I had fallen to about 15. At this point it dawned on me that I wasn't sweating.. yikes! I picked up some extra hydration and concentrated on getting my hydration back on track. By this time the heat is starting to creep up. I would take a drink of water and then take a swig to shoot back down my shirt to cool me down. It worked but I'm sure was quite the sight to see. I ended up with more than 16 on the bike, but should have been 18 or 19. I was pissed coming in and Andrea later told me I did not look good at all coming back in from the bike. It was pretty fun to have two of my best friends at the bike dismount giving dismount instructions, to see my dad inside transition cheering me on and to get a glass of water from my mom before heading to rack my bike up :-D

(side note.. so later in the car I was commenting about how I was starting to rub pretty bad in the whoha region and couldn't figure out why because I had slathered on the Belgium butter like it was my job. Andrea (non-triathlete) from the back seat says "is it water proof? You were in the water for an hour" I sit there dumbfounded with my mouth open so wide that you could shove bigmouthbillybass right in. Doh, that shit is NOT water proof, no where on the bottle does it say it is for swimming. Well no fucking wonder.)

I broke the cardinal rule and I sat down in transition (it ain't a picnic, right Jaime?) to put my running shoes on. Finally, I was rehydrated! How do I know this? I peed as I sat down..hahah. I go to grab my visor so I can leave T2 and the fucking thing is GONE. I tore my transition gear apart, even went into my neighbors' stuff, it was no where to be found. I was pissed, who would take it? Even worse it was close to 105 now and I had no where to stuff wet sponges on my head.

I started out on the run hoping the culprit got a scorching case of herpes soon as retribution, but then remembered that wasn't nice. So I hoped that it helped them win their age group or something nice like that.

I really should elaborate that my run was a shuffle. At this point it was awesome to see so many of my friends and teammates heading into the last 1-2 miles of the run so I was busy cheering them all on. When the course thinned out I started walked and never really stopped walking until I was coming on the last mile. I couldn't walk two paces without coughing like I was dying. There was a guy that I kept racing. He'd get into the lead, I'd pick up the pace and take over, then he'd pass me. This went on for the end of the race. As I came down the last valley to start the final big hill to the finish and there they were. At least 10 people all in blue from my T3 team cheering me on. My run picked up pace and I wanted to make them all proud with a strong finish. As soon as I started running faster I heard the most familiar sound in my life. My mom's voice cheering me on. She was there with Charlie and they were ringing their loud ass (and very authentic) cow bells. Her voice was the frantic cheer that I remember from all the cheer-able moments in my life.

I came in the finisher's chute and there was more blue cheering me on. There was my dad and Brian and Andrea. And there was the finish line. Once I got through the finish there were members from other teams to congratulate me. I will never get tired of how amazingly awesome this community is full of support.

I got back to my bike to pack up and what was sitting square in the middle of my bright yellow mat? My fucking visor.

Ironman Muncie by the numbers:
too many to count - snot rockets
24 - salt stick tablets consumed
15 - cups of ice dumped down the front of my bra
9 - number of times I got kicked during the swim
7 - miss-fired snot rockets (hey, it happens to everyone)
4 - cups of ice dumped down my shorts
1.5 - number of miles a bee followed me on the run (that shoulda got me runnin'!)
1 - missing visor
0 - number of times I felt like quitting

Thanks to everyone who supported me! Many more races and updates to come!

You don't need a voice

In order to do a 70.3 Ironman, right? Tuesday night I started to get that tickle in my throat. You know the one, "oh shit, I'm going to get sick." That's what happened. Wednesday I had a clear nose but my throat was sore and my chest was congested.

I've been taking medicine hoping that it's some how allergies related. Although now, I hardly have a voice. You don't need a voice in order to race, do you?

The congestion seems to be breaking up, so I'm hopeful by Saturday morning I'll be ready to race in this whoturnedonthefuckingoven heat. Tomorrow's the last day I can take medicine as I shouldn't take it race day, so I hope to kick this asshat outta my chest soon.

Who do you inspire?

I bet not many of us think about who we inspire by our words and actions. Until I started this journey, I certainly never thought of myself as someone who sparks inspiration in another person. But I can guarantee you inspire someone. You may never know it, but I bet you do. Whether you're someone who has strong work ethic, someone that can speak your mind (or bite your tongue!), someone that gives time, talent and treasure to others in need. Maybe you're someone facing your fears, someone being who you are despite what others thinks, or a great parent, friend or listener.  Or perhaps you're creative, crafty or athletic. There's always a quality in you that will inspire someone else.


Many friends shared my first blog post with their entire Facebook network. I was certainly flattered, and quite honestly, a little embarrassed. Now strangers all over were going to be reading about my wetsuit sweats and calling myself fat publicly for the first time. One reader, started stranger and turned friend, contacted me asking if she could interview me for a blog post for Lululemon Athletica. This request was sparked because I inspire her. I was floored. A champion swimmer, amazing yogi (is that right term? It's kinda one of those hard ones like when do you use alum vs. alumni.. head spinning stuff), and pro triathlete thinks I'M inspiring?! How could that even be possible?


We met, had an amazing chat and discovered more connections between us than I would guessed. The story published was lovely and was definitely a highlight to my training thus far.


I've had several people tell me their stories that sparked with me as the source of inspiration. I'm so grateful that people share this. I have been inspired by this and have started telling people when they inspire me. I'm not sure why I was afraid to before; it's a huge compliment to them, no one will ever think you are dumb for saying that you're inspired. 


It doesn't have to be a great feat. Just every day people living their life to the fullest. Don't forget, that even when you're not at your best, you still inspire someone, somewhere.


____________________


I'm six days out from Muncie 70.3 and I am so excited! I am feeling incredibly strong; both body and spirit. I went on a great ride with one of my biking mentors and she commented on the visible improvement since our last ride. That is a huge boost of encouragement. I'm so excited for my parents and friends to come into town for my race! I'm so grateful that my family and friends are willing to commit a huge chunk of their Saturday in the skin-melting heat.


I got a new pair of glasses last week that I think will be awesome, they even have air vent holes in the lenses. Right before Eagle Creek my glasses broke, so I bought a new pair. I put them on and they immediately fogged up (you get what you pay for) and so I tucked them into my jersey and they nestled tightly into my cleavage. Around mile 7 they popped right out, slippery little fuckers. I was going to try to be cool and wear an old pair of aviators, but they slip off my face too much and are just annoying; like that case of crabs that just won't go away (right Timpe?!).


Eagle Creek was a good and bad race. Bad in that I thought with all this training I was going to come out and kill the course and post a HUGE PR over last year. I didn't, turns out less than 10 minutes. I was really bummed about that. BUT the good outweigh the bad. I remember last year, I didn't know ANYONE. I stood in the athlete's meeting embarrassed to be the biggest girl out there in my skin tight tri gear and had no one to talk to. This year, still the same chubster as last year, I stood proud in a sea of blue with my teammates. I chatted with people from other teams, people I know from my bike club, BOMF, volunteering and swim clinics. What a world of difference a year makes. You are constantly passing people that you know. Everyone cheers for each other. Everyone encourages you and you encourage them. The downside to this? When you're not pushing yourself as hard as you should be, there's people now there to call you on your shit. Because they know you can push harder.


"Come on Chrissy, run, I know you can" Well fuck, you're right. It's a good thing, you only get better when you train with people better than you.


I will probably be puking sunshine and rainbows all over Facebook this week. But I need to make sure my head is filled with the "you are going to do it" voice and not the "you fucking can't do it" voice that made the ugly appearance in June. Because I can do it and I just need to keep reminding myself.

Damn you Carly Rae Jepsen

It's all Carly Rae Jepsen's fault my tri blew today. Her fucking song "call me maybe" happens to be the worst piece of shit out there. And it was stuck in my head for 25 miles of the bike. And some of the run.

Well I guess it's my fault, but I really dislike the person that was humming it in transition (who has time to hum in transition?!) because it then got in my head. That song is like herpes, you can't get rid of it no matter how hard you try. At least with the song it will eventually work its way out of your head until some other asshat sings it.

So, 25 miles of the bike? Wait, thought it was 39 miles. Yeah. I dropped down to the Oly during the race. I feel like such a failure. But I've taken what I've stewed about all day and created a list of like 30 items I need to work on before the 70.3. I'll just summarize the big points.

• Negativity - Just like this horrible song, once negativity creeps into my head during a race, it's over. I have a very hard time recovering and today I didn't. I got out onto the bike and was going pretty strong, then I hit the hills on the back end of the reservoir and my speed dropped, below my target MPH. So I immediately thought "how the fuck are you supposed to do this next month?" I started having doubt about racing the 70.3 and thought about putting my 70.3 debut off until Cedar Point in September. I was able to pick up pace in other spots and the other bikers are so encouraging. Any time I got passed the other biker would shout out a word of encouragement. I think the racing community overall is pretty supportive.
• HYDRATE, HYDRATE, HYDRATE - this race snuck up on me this week and as I realized on the bike, I was not hydrated enough. When all said and done, I raced for almost 4 hours and was up 3 hours before that and only peed once at 5 a.m. That's a problem. I should be going every 2-3 hours. By the time I got to the end of the 2nd lap of the bike I knew a 3rd wasn't in me. I just decided at that point to drop down to Oly. I'm proud that I actually listened to my body for once, so I guess it's small victories.
• Butter the parts - It's probably a good thing that I didn't have to pee on the bike because I didn't have enough Belgium Butter on the right parts and rubbed my back upper thighs pretty bad in the bike. That woulda stung like a motha' for sure. Just when you think you have enough butta' on, butta' some more. and then some more.
• Nutrition - I'm glad I got to practice my nutrition plan for the 70.3 today. By the time I got to the run, although I was dehydrated, I was sloshing like a Santa with a bowl full of jelly. I suspect that I was too dehydrated to process all the water I had on the bike? I had my prescribed amount, but some of the nutrition choices did not sit so well with me. I felt awful sick and sloshing on top of that sucked. I'll talk to Heather and make some adjustments. For once I was prepared early with a plan more than a month out, another victory.

I finished the Oly so I can't completely beat myself up. I'm still well ahead of my Chicago time from last year, so that's a plus, just gotta put it all in perspective.

At least I didn't drop an entire bottle of nutrition (entire day's worth) like I did last month at the Muncie tri. The slippery little fucker flew out of my hand as I was pulling it from my jersey. It was like the oyster that went flying in Pretty Woman. I saw it go in slow motion in an arch over my head and into the woods. It was like the Christmas Story when Ralphie looses the lugnuts "ohhhhh fudge, but not fudge, I had said it, the word, the f dash, dash, dash word." Although mine was more like "Mother fucker are you fucking kidding me?!"

On a final note. My life right now is like an episode of Cheers. Everyone knows my name. Everywhere I go. I can only assume it's because there aren't many fat girls in the Indy triathlon circuit, so I stand out and am easy to remember. I had a guy today say "hey Chrissy! remember me?" um, no, but nice to see you again. I was working a water station in the middle of bum fuck nowhere for Team in Training and some guy out for his own cycle stopped and said "You were at the May Muncie tri, weren't you? I got out of the water right before you" um... okay how did you recognize me going by 18mph on a bike? I walked into a gas station after the Geist half marathon (okay a sausage in a tutu is pretty memorable) and said "hi Chrissy." I was like who are you, I'm pretty good at recognizing faces but this one I had never seen before. Turns out he saw my picture on facebook that week in one of his friends pictures. I'm glad that people like me enough to say hi and are patient with me as I kindly ask their name again. Although it's frustrating, because I'm pretty good with names and don't want people to feel bad that I don't remember.

I am going to work my little heart out these next four weeks. Nutrition will be spot on, my new name will be Chrissy "Brick" Vasquez. No excuses, no regrets. I want to make my friends and family so proud when I cross that 70.3 finish line, but most of all, I want to be proud.

Sausage in a Wetsuit - A humorous story about finding myself as I lose half myself training for the Ironman

So I got this brilliant idea to write a book. When I shared this idea and the title, most people loved it, but their next comment was something along the lines of "and in what free time are you going to do this?" Excellent point. So maybe I'll get lucky and a publisher will come to me like Carrie Bradshaw and have me pick 10-15 posts and write a dedication and opening and publish it. And then I'll get a big fat check because they sell it in France and can buy my boyfriend a Prada shirt. I digress. No wonder I won't have time to write a fucking book.

I've decided to write a blogs as I would chapters, or passages. I have to give Kerry V. credit for this as she's maintaining a hysterical site "Chicks are Stupid" because she, too, has also wanted to write a book. I've also decided that what comes out my head goes onto the screen. So if you know me well, you know that one of my flaws is that I curse. A lot. If it's going to be real, it's going to be me, unfiltered.

So here it goes.

Title Inspiration

"Ahhh! You got one, I feel like a sausage in mine." 

"My husband loves a wetsuit swim. No body fat? So gives buoyancy. I'm already buoyant. Feel like a lumpy sausage squeezed into casing." 

"Did you get one with sleeves?"

Me: "Um no, I would have been like the kid in the Christmas Story that couldn't put his arms down."

Early in the morning after a run on a crisp April morning, (let's be honest, fucking freezing - where is the warm spring weather?!) I asked an experienced triathlete friend if he thought I needed a wetsuit for my upcoming olympic tri in two weeks. The answer I was really not wanting to hear came out of his mouth. "Yes." Haven't I learned to stop asking questions I don't REALLY want to know the answers to??!

Fast forward to the end of the day. I slowly make my way into my favorite tri supply store. The moment I had been dreading since I ever thought about doing anything in the Iron distances had arrived. Like getting hit in the face with a brick out of nowhere, I couldn't avoid it. I start thumbing through the wetsuits thinking "christ, I can't even get my thigh in this."

"Hi Chrissy, going to take the plunge?" I gulp and answer some witty and smartass response about how I've been trying to avoid this and I can hide no longer. I'm offered several suits to try on so I can rent one instead of shelling over $250 off the bat for a rubber suit of shame.

I take them into the fitting room and start to slowly shimmy them up. First one, I couldn't even get one leg into it. The second one, couldn't pull the crotch up enough to get my arms in the sleeves. Third, yeah, no way, I knew this just by looking at it. All of the sudden I'm taken back to memories of the swim team in elementary school and getting anxiety wondering if any of the sample suits would fit so I could order my team suit. Who the fuck thought it would be good for a fat kid's self esteem to put them on the summer swim team anyway?! Oh yeah, I remember I wanted to be like all my other friends and begged to be on the team.

I come out of the dressing room with a red face and declare I need to try something else. I'm offered a two piece special order. "Can it be here in time to practice before next weekend's race?" "No." I'll just have to get a men's suit and cut the legs since I'm such an oompaloompa. I cannot leave the store without a suit, plain and simple. The water for my olympic is slated to be low 60s. I'll spend too much energy trying to keep warm and afloat while swimming the .93 miles. I take another suit off the rack and go back into the dressing room with a pit deep in my stomach. 

I slowly shimmy the right leg up. Then the left. Now the fun part, wiggle this bastard up over my hips that could bare a small country with no issues. I get it up. Ha, what I thought was the fun part, was really just an appetizer before the real fun begins. I pull this rubbery saran wrap up more so the crotch isn't hanging at my knees like some Tupac wanna be's pants (I always pour one out for you homie) so I can get my arms in. Now the real test. Will this motherfucker zip? I pull the seams together so I can zip it up. I get it up a bit, then have to take a minute to rest. When did it get so hot in here? Did they turn up the heat? Can you really drip sweat down your legs when they are wrapped that tight?

I get my second wind and get it zipped up further. I'm feeling better at this point and figure it's gotta be almost zipped up all the way. I look back in the mirror, not even close. The anxiety kicks in even more. The more anxiety, the more I sweat. The more I sweat the more anxiety. My hair's a mess and my face is red like a lobster. At this point I'm feeling panicked like when Ross can't get his pants up in the Friends episode. I'm not sure at this point whether to cry or to laugh out of embarrassment. Finally I decide to throw my pride aside and ask for help (gasp! say it ain't so!). I slowly open the door, almost like a father waiting to see his daughter for the first time in her wedding dress (or so I imagine?) the owner is waiting for me to pop out and say it's perfect! Sheepishly, I ask in a low voice for help. 

Luckily he is more than happy to help me zip it up and reassures me that everyone needs help. For race day I'll need to start the process early and don't be afraid to ask for help. I'm expecting him to say it's not going to zip when I realize he's already zipped it. It fits! Thank god and baby jesus. I turn around and look at myself in the mirror.

Holy fuck! I look like a sausage stuffed in this thing. And unlike the texts I would get later after declaring I finally had a suit, I really looked like a big, fat sausage stuffed in. My friends were cocktail wieners in comparison. 

After checking out and thanking the owner for his kindness and patience I left in my car with my new acquisition. I got this total rush of depression. Christ on roller skates. What was wrong with me? I should be well pass this point. What was holding me back from losing this Olsen twin and moving forward? 

I called my mom and shared with her like I know few others would understand. I told her that this feeling of sickness about the entire situation tonight should have meet feeling like I never wanted to eat again. When in all honestly, part of me wanted to go to Taco Bell and eat my feelings.

When I hung up, I realized my fear is what was keeping me here. I need to own what I am. Much like the swim team, I thought I could keep up with my peers and do whatever I wanted. Just like being a triathlete. I can't pretend I'm something I'm not. Yes, I am a triathlete. I am proud of that. But I also need to recognize that I'm not the stereotypical triathlete. People that don't know me, would have NO IDEA that I can finish an Olympic Triathlon.

For the first time in my life, I started to embrace who and what I am. Fuck whatever anyone thinks. I'm not sitting around thinking woah is me and not trying to change my life. I'm out there actively trying to change my life for the better. Pretending that I'm something I'm not though, is what is blocking me to really breaking through all this bullshit weighing me down. (no pun intended) I've got all the pieces, this has just been blocking me from really figuring out how to put the puzzle together.

I went on my first swim with the wetsuit. Yes, I hated every minute of it. I hated that we had to take a group picture and that it was going to go on facebook. I hated knowing that I was going to be tagged. But I finished the swim. I had an amazing and supportive group of teammates that cheered me on every meter of that swim and wouldn't let me stop. They challenged me to push myself further after each time I rested or felt claustrophobic.

I got home and saw the picture. My first thought was "untag that shit," but then I remembered my new mantra "own it" and I left it up. Knowing that everyone of my nearly 1500 friends could see it. For once I was letting people see every angle side of me, no matter how unattractive. I need to stop trying to filter what people get to see of me and let it be there for all to see. My mom said something really powerful to me; "Chrissy, you really don't look any different in that picture than you do your trisuit." Holy shit. Talk about the wake up call I needed. So true, but in my head, I don't look that fat in my trisuit. 

It brings me to an even deeper realization of the twisted fucked up state of mind I have. I have terrible self esteem, yet, I don't always see the same thing that everyone else sees, sometimes I see something better, sometimes something worse. I have a lot of shit to keep cleaning up, but I'm on my way. This week I ran half the mini marathon in a tank sports top. That is HUGE for me. I finally let my head get out of my way and went for comfort, I was sweating like a whore in church and knew I had to take my shirt off in order to finish. (Ha, I also got a "nice boobs" comment at the water station.) I know this week I have turned over a new leaf. I know now that I'm on my way. It's going to be a long journey, no doubt. Some parts of the road smoother than others, but I'm so ready to continue this journey with an open heart and mind. 

I had a conversation with an amazing friend this week. I spoke about knowing how crazy my life has been with Ironman training but how I've changed some and learned some things. He asked me some good questions about why I was doing it and what have I learned. Out of no where, without being able to stop it, tears flowed with my answer. I've learned a lot about myself, I've learned how strong I really am and to stop discounting myself.

I'm not going to lie, it's tough being one of the biggest female competitors out there. Having people cheer you on like it's your first race and you should be proud for just being out there. Sick of completing and being ready to compete. It's fucking hard to really compete when you're carrying around 50-80 pounds more than most competitors. I wonder what people would think if they had to strap Mary Kate to their backs to swim, bike and ride. The easy thing to do would be to not do it. To not put myself out there for criticism and judgement. But I've already found out so much about myself and I can't imagine what else there is to find out about myself as I continue this journey.

I'm so lucky to have amazing family, friends and teammates who support me and love me. Who sometimes believe in me, more than I believe in myself. This new leaf I've turned over has already allowed me to finally be 100% honest with people about who I am, what I struggle with and what I'm going to do bring about change. This has been so freeing. Without even giving it thought, I've lost 7 lbs this week. Every pound I've lost before this point has taken complete effort and concentration. It has been a struggle. I have a long way to go, it's not going to be easy, but in the words of Robert Randolph "I'm moving in the right, dirrrreeeecccccttttion."