How does that work?

I've had various friends cult members, try to convince me that CrossFit would be good for my biking and running. And a good way to drop weight. Build strength. Make friends. You get the idea.

I have heard mixed reviews about CrossFit. I've heard that the injury rate is high, so I didn't want to take any chances before Arizona. But I did my research and found that if you go to a good box, one that is good about watching form, you're really going to get a good workout. For those of you, like me, that had no clue what the fuck a box is, a box is often what the gym is referred to.

I had started thinking back in October that I would try out CrossFit in the off season. Three weeks after my race I decided to get off my lazy ass and get back to things. I set some goals, renewed my commitment to my races next year and went to my first class on Monday.

It was an "easy" week as they were having a weight competition this past weekend so everyone was tapering. Clearly I'm not intimidated by much, but I'm always intimidated when I walk in. I've been in several times to pick things up and I feel out of place.

I have to admit that I was surprised how friendly everyone was. Probably the first time I've been somewhere in which the girls come up and introduce themselves. Our workout was pretty light: rowing, l-sits and a lot of deep stretching. The WOD (Workout of the Day) was 15 minutes, rotating between 20 chest to the floor push-ups and 50 air squats. I got through 4 sets and while it was a big push, I didn't feel like I went balls to the wall.

I thought it was a good idea to go to hot yoga after. Hahah, fucking worst. idea. ever. I made it through about 15 minutes before my arms and legs wouldn't do anything but quiver. So I spent the next 60 minutes doing wall stretches and just laying there in agony.

Tuesday I could barely walk down the stairs. Going up the stairs took twice as long. I could barely lift my arms enough to dry my hair. Forget sleeping. Who knew you used your triceps when you were sleeping.

Wednesday was even worse. It took me 5 minutes to get down the stairs in my house. I made it down two steps and decided it might be easier to slide down my ass. I finally lowered myself to sit down and made it down two steps. It was going to be better to walk down the stairs. It was hard to get up with clothes and my phone in my hand as I was headed out to run with the guys. I thought about throwing the clothes down the stairs but then I realized picking them up at the bottom would take all day. I finally got myself up and it took forever to get down the stairs. I awkwardly walked for 30 minutes with the guys, curbs were not fun. It took me like a minute of pep talk to squat to go to the bathroom. I took the elevator a floor at work. It took me 30 seconds to negotiate with myself to go down the 3 front steps.

Thursday I couldn't even lift my arms enough to put on a sports bra. I couldn't use my round brush to blow dry my hair. Of course when I finally got the tip to go backwards down the stairs I could hobble my way down the stairs.

I was in too much pain to go back or do any working out, but at this point I've screwed myself by not going back. The lactic acid has built up in my muscles so bad that I can barely move. I didn't do shit all week. Luckily I went to do service work on Friday, packing and lifting boxes, it wasn't comfortable, but it finally made everything feel better.

Today I was able to run a 5K again. I have decided to run one every Sunday to keep track of how my running is coming along. I took some time off last week, so I'm encouraged.

I can move, non-stop for 18.5 hours in an Ironman and manage to feel okay enough to fly home two days later. But 80 push-ups and 200 squats take me out for an entire week. How does that work?!

Yes, I'm going back to Crossfit 3 times this week. I figured the first few times I rode my bike for longer than an hour I couldn't walk for the next day and now I can ride 7 hours. So this will get easier too, right?

The aftermath

With about .2 miles to go we turn the bend headed on Rio Salado to the finish and I see a crowd of about 40 people standing on the side of the road. I'm confused and then I realize they are screaming my name and clapping. As I choke up I toss my water bottle to Andrea and tell her I think I have it in me to run and I owe it to everyone out here. As I come through the crowd I say thank you over and over and comment that I'm blown away strangers are out cheering. As I pass everyone starts jogging behind me, I look to the right and I don't even know who the woman is, but she's saying "great job Chrissy."

I get to the finish area and the Iroman carpet is rolled out. There's a group at the finish cheering. I see David and Glenn. People are banging on the bleachers and banging noise makers, cheering my name. There's a finish line hung across the line and I am barely able to break the tape. The cheers ring in my ears and I can't believe the longest day of my life has come to an end; it concluded with a huge smile. An end that concluded 140.6 miles.

Thanks Jen for the finisher's video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7UcQISu9gH8)



David and Glenn greet me with big hugs. David puts a medal over my head and tells the crowd "Chrissy you are an Ironman." Everyone cheers and cameras go wild. I tell David that I'm coming back in 2014 to volunteer so I can register for 2015. I'm offered the chance to come back and race in 2014 and everyone says "do it!" They bring me a bottle of champagne and offer a cold pizza.

David and Glenn

As I would find out later the strangers were people waiting in line to register for 2014. Or people working the last shift cleaning up the finish area. After the race I found out that at 1:25 AM the workers cleaning up the finish line hear "we have a finisher" and they drop everything to roll out the Ironman carpet and string up a finish line. People shared stranger's posts on Facebook with me and many commented that my finish was the best part of the day. Thank you to everyone; I'm so grateful that people care about others and did a wonderful job of making my finish a big deal and an experience I'll never forget.

Here I am, exactly two weeks after the race, sitting in Arizona looking at the mountains and feeling the sunshine on my face. The longest day of my life seems like a lifetime away. I'm not sure how that is possible. I've driven on the Bee Line half a dozen times, it doesn't seem like just 14 days ago I rode up and down and up and down and up and down it. I went to the ASU game last night and took the time to look out at Tempe town lake and I couldn't quite believe the swim took place there. It looked like such a long way to swim from the Mill Ave bridge past Rural, almost to McClintock and back. Looking out at the run course, I can't help but feel like I failed. I fell apart for various reasons. But I want to say I have no excuses. It is what it is. No matter what feelings I have, how much I can wish or pray, I can't go back to 11/17/2013 and change anything.

I believe in a higher power. I believe that no matter how shitty something is at the time, everything happens for a reason. In every experience we can find gratitude and something to be thankful for. My attempt at Ironman Arizona is no exception to my beliefs. A lot of things in my life have taken me longer to achieve than other people.

Everything in life is an experience to draw from and learn from. I can say that I'm living a dream with my job. Being Executive Director for Back on My Feet allows me to use all of my skills and marry it with my passions to make a difference in other people's lives. But many people don't know that I actually interviewed for this position 18 months ago. I made it to the final round and was not selected. At the time, I was so confused and disappointed. But being able to reflect and look back, I realized that there were skills I still needed to develop in order for it to be the right position for me and the right fit for the organization's needs. I now know that this time is the right time in my life for this position.

I don't think Ironman is any different. It's taken me four 70.3 races to get better at racing, to achieve some incredible PR's. So why would I think that a 140.6 race would be any different? While I made Ironman training a huge focus in my life, I refused to make it my only focus. That's not who I am. I'm not going to sacrifice my core value of service. I wanted my first attempt to be about something greater than me and I think raising more than $16,000 for those in need in Indianapolis makes that clear.

I wouldn't trade this experience for anything in the world. The lesson is I know I can 140.6 miles. I did the same course as everyone out there that day. Yes, it took me a hellofa lot longer, but I went the same distance. Now I need to figure out the formula to make it happen faster. I know I have it in me, I just need to keep digging, I've proven that this entire season.

When people told me I should quit, I didn't. I kept going. Although there were plenty of times I wanted to quit, hell I prayed for god to help me quit, it didn't happen. I can draw upon that experience and apply it to any aspect of my life. I know there's a beginning, middle and end. No matter what shit I wade through, how much the odds are against me or how much my mind tells me no, I can make it though.

Do I consider myself an Ironman? No. Ironman has rules and I didn't finish under 17 hours. But I went the distance, so I consider myself a finisher. How many people would have kept going?

The support during this journey has been incredible. I cannot express my gratitude for everyone who supported me to help raise more than $16,000. That will buy 160 pairs of running shoes to help homeless change the way they see themselves through running. That's 160 smiling faces that will learn to love themselves and find the courage to take the step toward self sufficiency. Thank you.

Back on My Feet Indianapolis circling up

The outpouring of love, encouragement and support for me to get to the finish is overwhelming. In a world of such shit with politics, violence and hate, it's beautiful to see people lift someone else up. The messages on Facebook, Twitter, email, texts, calls, etc. took me a few days to read through. It brought me to tears to have so many people from within and outside the sport of triathlon offer their congratulations and express how proud they are. From close friends, family, acquaintances and even strangers. Thank you.

There were many people on the course with me that day in spirit. Thank you. To those who were there in person, I am forever grateful. Sarg, Sass, Chrisann, Marti, Chris, Andrea, Heather, Julie and Gina - thank you for being on the run course with me when I needed it. Sarg and Sass - I owe you both a new pair of Newtons! I'm sorry I was a grouch. Sarg and Chrisann - thanks for being my mobile aid station the last 7 miles.

Brian, Nicole, Jen, Stephanie, Klayton, Kerry, Danny, Monika, Jill, Debbie, Mark, Michelle, Kristina, Chris, Kelly, Ryan, Katherine, Catherine, Brenda, Deb - Thanks for being on the course and helping cheer me on. Thank you for being a part of the last few miles to keep me in good spirits.

David and Glenn - thanks for being there for me at the finish in Kansas and Arizona. I appreciate your interest in my journey and look forward to seeing you at many races for many years!

Dad and Mom - thank you for your unconditional support and love during this journey. It has been such a life changing experience that wouldn't be possible without your support and SassyRoo :)

Coming back a non-Ironman hasn't been 100% positive. There's been some rude comments from people; but that's okay. I give these people props for speaking their mind. There's been silence from people as well. Don't think I'm stupid. I know you're sitting in silence judging me.  I know you're comparing me to others or your own races. It's okay, judge away, it won't keep me from coming back to try again.

I'm so lucky that I learned the value of the journey and not the focus on the destination. If I was only focused on the destination I would never have made it this far, I would have quit the very first tri I did when I finished last and was not like everyone else out there racing. I would have missed a lot of wonderful gifts, lessons and friends along the way. I used to be embarrassed that I took the path less traveled. That I did things my own way and found my own trail. But now I'm proud that I don't do things like everyone else. I know that my experiences, failures and successes have defined who I am. I go my own way, and I'm okay with that.

What's next? I have a lot of work to do in the off season. I've taken two weeks to recover, now it's time to get back at it. I'm going to go take on Ironman Kansas again and possibly do another Ironman 140.6. I need to evaluate and make sure it's the right time for me to go again.

The blog will still continue. There's still a lot of adventures to be had. My hope is that someone reading this will find the courage to take a risk; do something out of their comfort zone, go against the grain. Because you never know the reward you might find.

Going the distance

The Swim
I took a few deep breaths, stretched my arms by doing some large circles, pulled on my goggles and jumped into the water. There was a sea of green caps before me, sprinkled with a few pink caps. I swam to the middle of the field and dipped my face three times blowing bubbles to get myself calm. You can hear everyone on the bridge cheering, I thought I saw our cheer shirts, but I didn't recognize the heads on the shirts. I was treading water as light as I could awaiting for the cannon to go off. BOOM! There it was. I took off at a steady pace, trying to keep a straight line, sighting off the buoys so I didn't get too far off course.

Mass starts don't freak me out. I had someone knock my goggles off, to which I had to stop to get them re-situated. By this time they were starting to fog a little bit despite the anti-fog I had used. I got punched a few times, had to swim over a few people and people swam over me. Just the nature of the beast. I was surprised how many people would swim diagonally in front of you from right to left. Given their course, they would be way off course in a short amount of time.

I made it to the Rural bridge and started to look at the numbers on the buoys. I'm never as far along as I feel like I should be. By this time there weren't people on shore and it was pretty quiet. The buoys start to curve out to the right and then back into the left. If I were to swim in a straight line it would be more efficient, but it would cut the course. I saw a lot of people doing this, but I swam to the outside of the buoys as we were instructed. I was paranoid that I was kicking too hard, so I kicked a little less. I was surprised that my wetsuit didn't bother me at all.

Finally the fucking first turn buoy, then the 2nd one. Now heading back to the shore. I was at 47 minutes, which I was fine with. However, this first look at my watch was a bad idea. Because now every buoy I'm reaching I'm stopping to look at my watch. I know better than this, I know this slows me down. Never fails. I get so impatient in the swim, I get so bored and just ready to be done. But the more I stop to look around the slower I get and the farther behind my goal time I am. I swim by the stadium and start singing the ASU Fight Song in my head. Then Chris and I realize we're swimming right next to each other. We would spend the next .75 miles taking turns taking the lead. I just couldn't keep steady, I kept stopping and looking to see how far I had to go; looking behind me to see how many people were still back there. Not sure why, didn't change the distance I still had to swim. The last turn buoy to the steps is the longest few 100 meters of my life. The steps just never seem to get closer until I finally see the steps. I'm pissed this swim took me 15 minutes longer than it should have and 30 minutes longer than it could have, but at this point I'm just glad to be in well before the cut off.

T1
I had to pull my watch off before I could take my wetsuit off (it was outside my suit) and the people were very nice pulling my suit off. I had stories about how they shove you on the ground, so I was fearful of a beating, but I think at the end it's slower and they have more time to help you. I heard my name as I ran into T1. I think I saw John, Klayton and his mom, but I really can't be sure. I just remember smiling and pumping my fist because I made cutoff 1.

I met Deb and her daughter and had valet service. It's all really a blur. I remember rinsing my feet off, Deb trying to get my shoes on, her daughter spraying me with sunscreen, changing my shirt. Thank you so much ladies for getting me in and out so quickly.

I ran through the bikes and there was David waiting for me. He was taking photos and video, felt like the paparazzi was following me! I saw some friends as I was mounting the bike, based on the photos I have I think it was Robert, Andrea, Heather and Klayton.

                                                   Bike turnaround, Bee Line and Shea

Bike
I started out on the bike at a steady pace. I was mindful not to go out too hard too fast. It's flat so it's easy to do. I pulled out my inhaler and got three puffs in and then it slipped out of my hand and bounced into the gutter. fail. Then I felt like my tire was flat so I stopped to look at it. I had encountered the flat tire in transition that morning so I was fearful that it had gone flat again. Turns out it was rock hard and I was just imagining things.

I thought I was going to think about the times in college when we drove to Payson for AKPsi retreats, but I didn't. I thought I was going to think about my training rides, but I didn't. I thought about nutrition, changing gears, passing and aid stations.

The first 20 miles I battled a cramp. It must have been a result from the swim as I've never got one there before. It was at the top of the back of my left thigh into my groin. I didn't know how I would stretch it so I decided to up my salt and try to work through it.

On the way down the Bee Line I decided to use my weight to my advantage and hit the downhill pretty good to make up for the slow up hill. This caused my adductor to cramp a little when I got off the downhill so I was working through that cramp too. I started singing "Fuck you cramp, you can't stop me" to the tune of the Thunder Song from Ted. Finally coming back into town the cramps started to go away.

I was on schedule the entire bike with my nutrition and hydration. Coming into bike aid 4 there was a guy in front of me that I was mindful of. He was going through slow, I grabbed a water behind him. Then the asshole came to a complete stop in the middle of the line and I had to swerve to the left to miss him. I just barely made it past him with 1/2 inch to spare without hitting him. I really think Ironman should offer a bike aid station practice before the race for all those people who have never done one before. In true form, there were people out there that this was their FIRST triathlon ever. sigh.

At the turnaround of loop 2 I saw my parents, Brian, Steph and Jen. It made me smile. On the way down the Bee Line this time the wind was pretty strong so it wasn't as fast going down the hill. I stopped at an aid station because for the first time, I couldn't pee on the bike. I knew it was time to go so I decided to stop. I had also heard, don't trust a fart on an Ironman and I felt like the exiting of gas (that much salt makes me gassy) was becoming like Russian roulette at this point and I needed to stop. It was rough getting off the bike because I was more cramped than I thought. A nice AZ Tri team helped hold my bike as I stretched. Turning back into town I saw Ryan and Sass and it was a great spot to see people because it was still another 10 miles into town.

The 2nd turnaround in town I saw Marti and Chris and they made me laugh running along the road taking pictures. I saw Andrea, Heather, Andrea's mom, Kerry and Danny. I heard other screams of my names, but I really couldn't tell who it was.

The 3rd loop going up the hill was a lot more desolate. The penalty boxes were taken down. I always said slow people don't get penalties. I never had thoughts about wanting to be off the bike. I enjoyed every mile, even when it was a challenge. The wind going up the hill wasn't bad, but it was strong coming back down. With a few miles left on the bike I passed a guy struggling. I told him smile, we had made the cut off with an hour to spare and we'd be happy to see our running shoes. He laughed. I then told him to check with me about 2 miles into the run, I bet I'd want to be back on my bike.

T2
Brenda met me in T2 and helped me get changed for the run. As soon as I put on my running shoes I thought "fuck" because they were too tight. My feet had swelled more than I anticipated. I had 1 long bricks coming off full training rides, but my feet had never been that swollen. My toes were hitting the top of my shoes and the laces felt snug. Thank you Brenda for getting me on my way!

I came out of the run and there was my race shadow, David. It put a huge smile on my face. He was again taking pictures. I can't even remember what we talked about as he ran me out of transition, but I was glad to have him there.

As I came under the bridge, there was Sarg (Robert). Like clockwork he met me to pace me out to aid 1. I was having a hard time breathing. Usually I would have taken my inhaler on the last few miles in on the bike. Not having it, I should have sat in transition and taken it. Transition gets you breathing fast by nature. But no, I didn't think about that and now I'm trying to catch my breath and take my inhaler as I'm running. Fucking stupid idea. It would then take me 3 miles to get my breathing back under control.

I went through aid 1 and saw my mom, dad, Monika and John. John said "this sucks, huh? what's your favorite curse word?" I told him you know, he said scream it loud and say it hurts. I screamed "FUCK THIS HURTS" at the stop of my lungs, in front of my mother, who HATES that word. I'm sorry mom, blame John.

I came back through mile 4 and Robert was there to meet me. He tried to bring me back up to pace, I looked up and saw people across the lake from me. Miles ahead. It looked so far away as I had to run a "U" before I even got to where they were. Several friends told me I needed to keep a 16 minute pace, which seemed impossible to me. Fuck, I had just stopped running 16 minute half marathons a few months prior. How in the fuck was I supposed to run an ENTIRE marathon at that pace. I immediately fell into a DEEP, DARK hole that I would never climb out of. I wouldn't even realize what a deep hole I was in until I hit mile 24.

I made my way around to the other side of the lake and Sass came out and met me. My coach had sent her to run with me to bring me back up to pace. I don't really remember much about conversations, but I remember muttering this was impossible. Sass tried to convince me it was possible, but my heard and head couldn't reconcile. We ended up running by Heather and Julie and Sarg and they came along with me, trying to encourage me to run with good form. My head is foggy at this point and it's just one foot in front of the other. I think I was starting to get pissy with people, so for that I apologize. I heard some guy running the other direction say "that's a big fat DNF" I wanted to say, you know what pal, I probably am a DNF, so shut your fucking face, but I didn't have the energy.

I think we're about mile 10 at this point. I'm frustrated that Sass is with me and missing Kelly's amazing finish. That made me sad that she was missing it. Embarrassed that I couldn't pick up the pace enough to get everyone to feel comfortable to leave me alone.

The next 7 miles are a complete fog. I remember Andrea, Sarg and Heather being with me. At this point the EFS from the bike is starting to cause everything to shoot right through me. Every aid station is port-o-let, liquids, port-o-let. Let me tell you, port-o-lets on the run course of an Ironman are fucking nasty and I didn't even care as I ran in. At this point I'm having a hard time seeing anything to the right or left of me, I have tunnel vision. My mouth is dry like a desert. My eyes are full of sand and I can't open them more than a slit. I can hear everyone talking to me and I'm replying to them. Although I realize nothing is coming out of my mouth. I can't talk.

It reminds me of the episode of Nip/Tuck where the lady is having surgery, she can't move, but she can feel every single cut. Everyone is telling me to go faster, but this is the only speed I have. I can't pick up the pace. It was like the 2nd loop of the run in Benton Harbor. I was running, at a slow pace and I couldn't get any faster.

We get to the start of the second loop and Chris and Marti meet us. I'm so sad that there's so many people going straight to the finish and I'm going for loop 2. At this point I'm weaving, staggering, can barely open my eyes and my mouth is dry. I have to shit through every aid station as everything goes immediately through me. I'm dehydrated and haven't peed in miles. (Triathlon is a classy sport)

I see David as I come under the bridge and tell him that I don't think I'm going to make the cutoff. Let's be honest, I have no freaking clue what time it is and have no real concept of where I am. He says he's not sure either, but to keep going because he'll be at the finish waiting for me, not matter what time. Sarg is checking my mental stability and asking me questions. I think he asked me my age because I remember looking at my calf at one point. I'm not sure when, but Chrisann joins us. She tells me that David and everyone is talking about me on the walkie every time she sees them. They're so excited for me to come to the finish.

I wasn't having fun anymore. AT ALL. During the swim, transitions and on the bike I was having fun. I could smile and was loving it. The run, all of the run, I hated it. I was a mean person that I didn't think I could be. For those who know me at races, I'm always smiling and saying encouraging words to others. If someone cheers for me I'm thanking them. I'm thanking the volunteers and police. Not this time, I was a bitch and a person I don't think anyone has seen before. I couldn't move my head, I couldn't talk, even crack a smile. It was a total out of body experience. I felt like my brain was working but I couldn't get anything to function how my brain was telling it to.

At this time I remember I wanting nothing else more than for me to pass out. I wanted to fall and hit my head and pass out. I didn't want to have to make that decision myself to stop. I wanted a divine intervention to make it for me. Fortunately, it never happened. I kept moving forward, at a snail pace, but I was moving forward.

I look across the water and tell Andrea I don't think I have it in me to go another 9 miles. I stumble to the bridge again and mile 17. There is a cut off there. The guy tells me I have 35 minutes to get to mile 20. Or something like that. I go past the run aid station and see all my friends and family. I'm told at that point there's a renewed glimmer in my eye. Chris starts running in front of me telling me I can make it. Something comes out of no where and I start running faster. I pass a few athletes on their way to the 20 mile cutoff as well. I'm suddenly aware of where I am and around mile 18 a cart comes up behind us with lights. He says he's the end of the line and he's got supplies if I need anything and to keep going. I'm in agony, but I'm running. I want water but I don't want to slow down to drink it.

He comes back up and tells us that I'm the last athlete with my timing chip, everyone else behind me is done. I keep going, I'm not sure if we've past mile marker 19 already or not. Gina and an Ironman employee run ahead to the next mile marker. I can see it but can't tell if it's a 19 or 20. I am almost there, then my heart sinks. It says 19. I have 7.5 minutes left, the cart comes in front of me and the guy hops out to take my chip. My friend Marti captured the moment if you care to watch: (turn the volume up)

http://youtube/w9QYz3dLZ3M




I'd been here before. It was Ironman KS all over again. I was pissed that I didn't want to be here but was. I was pissed that I was THAT close to a cut off, to an official finish. I tried to process if I could have pushed the run harder. I'm not sure I know the answer to that. The mental darkness had its grip on me, I felt at the time I was doing the best that I could.

At this point the adrenaline is gone. I feel EVERY ache in my body. My feet are throbbing after doing 19 miles in shoes too snug. As you can tell in the video they tell me it's best to stop. That I should stop, that it's smart to stop. I almost said I'll stop since you're telling me I should. I asked the group of friends there with me and they said to do what I wanted to do. FUCK stopping, let's get this bitch done. I ask someone to post on facebook that they took my chip that way people don't stay up until 2 AM in the morning Eastern to watch for something that won't happen.

Sarg carried water for me in his jacket, Chrisann raided the last aid station for snacks to carry for me. Let me tell you, minutes after that cutoff, the signs of the Ironman race are GONE, disappearing into the night. The only sign of a race is the ice trucks and port-o-lets still at the aid station areas. Otherwise, it's empty. Even the tape is off the ground.

At this point it's about getting the last 7.2 miles done. However long it takes. which I'm pretty sure it took 2 hours. Yes, fucking 2 hours. Gina, Chrisann and Sarg are making the trek with me. Never a second went by during that 18:27 hours that I didn't realize how amazingly wonderfully supported I am. I am so very blessed to know such incredible people!

Between 22 and 23 you can hear the crowd going wild for finishers. It's just about time for the last person to come in. You can see the lights of transition across the water from where we are. I teared up thinking about that last person coming across and it wasn't going to be me. I imagined when I finished that nothing would be left except the bleachers. I would have to use my best judgement to find the finish line as the carpet would be long gone, the finisher's arch long disassembled.

At mile 24 Sarg tells me that Brian is going to walk back to meet us and walk the rest in. I come out of the port-o-let and see my mom and Nicole. And then my dad and Jen. And Klayton and Heather. And Andrea. Then at mile 25 I see Monika. And Chris and Kelly - two friends who have previously crossed the finish line and still came out to watch me! I see Sass. It's overwhelming to have my "crew" walking the last 1.2 miles with me; such support and love.

Nothing could prepare me for what I'd see next...

Meltdowns and Rainbows

Participating in the athlete's panel was an amazing experience! I was sitting on the panel with a 7 time Ironman and a man who would become the first man to finish an Ironman while going through radiation! David introduced us and asked if he could tell the story about IMKS, which of course I agreed. David spoke about my determination to finish but the thing he remembers most (reminding us that he's done 29 races this year times thousands of athletes) is I immediately said thank you as I crossed the finish area. He said that he's been following me all year and has never been so excited for an athlete to come back.

I got to share about Back on My Feet and announce that we had raised more than $16,000 for those in need in our program in Indianapolis. It was great exposure for the organization, awareness about homelessness and an experience I will never forget.

I have to say there's something incredible about being able to walk into an event with 2,800 other athletes and be known. David and Glenn had big hugs for me Friday and Saturday. On Saturday Glenn told me about how they all read my blog and talk about my progress when they see each other at races. They all were so excited for me and I had no idea that my journey would leave such a mark on these guys who see thousands of athletes a week!

However, this entire bike situation had me in meltdown by Friday evening. I had picked my bike up from a crowded bike shop and my bad for not riding it near there. Turns out my back break wasn't working and my cateye was no longer synced and the display was flickering. They were supposed to put new batteries in and do a race tune-up.

I discovered this as I was riding around Fountain Hills. I tried to adjust the brake myself but I think at this point I was beyond frazzled. So I took it to a local bike shop near my parents. Long story short I ended up feeling like a ditzy girl at the mercy of the mechanic that tries to sell her too much and tell her shit that she doesn't understand. Get better acquainted with bike maintenance when I get home, check.

I headed to the athlete's dinner and had the rest of my meltdown. God bless Brian for allowing me to have it. He just let me be, knowing that I had to find my own way out of it. I bawled my eyes out until my head hurt and talked to a few people. I was glad to see Kelly, Ryan and Sass at the athlete's dinner. It was okay, nothing over the top inspiring like I thought it was going to be, but I'm glad I went.

Brian and I got Señor Tacos (best burritos on the planet) and went home. Then there was a knock at the door. I told Brian to be careful answering it because who the fuck would be knocking at the door in the middle of the desert at 8pm? In through the door comes the other half of the golden girls, Jen and Stephanie. They had done a great job convincing me they would be cheering from a far, knowing damn well since August they'd be there in person! What a great surprise :-)

Saturday morning I woke up feeling like a rainbow after the storm. I was excited for the practice swim, bike and run and to check my stuff in. The practice swim went well, the water temp was 63.5 degrees and the practice swim went well. It was just like swimming in nasty Geist over the summer. We got to see John and Mark and get some good swim pictures, as good as they get in a wetsuit. I got in a quick bike, the ride with Sassroo felt fine and jogged for a few minutes and then dropped everything off in transition. It's a nice feeling knowing all you need to bring the morning of is yourself, some nutrition for the bike and your smile.

I got to see Andrea, Heather, Brenda, Monika and Robert (aka Sarg) at lunch on Saturday. So great to see everyone and feel the love and support.

I took the afternoon to rest and then everyone came over for a dinner party. It was nice to see all my friends in one place. The support system I have is unbelievable and I'm so incredibly blessed. It was great to see everyone in my life from all walks of life get along and chat with each other. Chrisann came out and told us all about her Kona experience which was really fun to hear after just watching the Kona coverage.

I said to Andrea and Stephanie, that who would have thunk it? That we'd all be here for me to go do an IRONMAN three and a half years after we ran my first 13.1 together. What a journey, so blessed to still call these girls my best friends.

We left for Tempe and got to the hotel so I could start winding down. It was hard to get myself to go to sleep. I wasn't nervous at all, which almost had me nervous. I wasn't overly excited. I was calm. I finally got my race numbers on and crawled into bed. We were all awoken by a god awful screech that was an amber alert. Scared the living shit out of me and woke me out of a dead sleep. All said and done I probably got about 6 hours sleep, pretty good the night before a race.

There's something indescribable about the energy in transition the morning of a race. I was feeling good as I had finally prepared 100% for everything for the race; about damn time. I got there in plenty of time, strolled into transition, found that my back tire was deflated (my valve was open, for christ sake). I borrowed Marcy's pump and it was hissing which caused me to panic that I had a pinch flat or something. I borrowed another one and it pumped up fine. I gave Sassyroo a kiss for good luck and exited transition to find Kelly and our friends and family. Got the wetsuit on and was lubing up my neck, getting ready to head off for the longest day of my life.

As I was zipping up my wetsuit a woman walking by asked if I was Chrissy. I said yes and she explained that she had found my blog by googling "arizona and wetsuit" and has been following along and was a self-proclaimed stalker. She said she was going to register if I finished. She wasn't the first stranger that weekend to introduce herself/himself and tell me they've been following along.

I hugged my friends and family and wiped away a few tears after I saw Kelly and Sass with tears. Kelly and I made our way to transition to start getting in the swim line. I have to say I was so relieved that I wasn't one of the frantic athletes running around. Many without wetsuits on, some inflating their tires last minute. I looked around and the number of green caps (male) to pink caps (female) was easily 3:1. The pro cannon went off and I got the chills. I knew we had entered a point of no return. Kelly and I hugged each other and wished each other luck and parted ways. The day had started and we were on our way.

The final last steps to Ironman

Gosh it takes a ton of shit to race an Ironman

Today was the first day in Ironman Village! Up until this point I've been excited, but more on the level of "I'm going on vacation" excited. Not "holyshit, 12 months of training and prep for one of the biggest days of my life" types of excited.

As I drove down the bike course today (Bee line hwy) the windows were down, the music was loud and I was taking in the road. I had this excited feeling, I couldn't wait for race day to tear that road up.

Kelly and I got to the Expo around 10:30, perfect timing as it was still pretty slow. We met Marcy and we really got to look at everything we wanted and not fight crowds. Packet pick up was a breeze and the merchandise tent was pretty empty.

In the packet pickup someone came from behind me and gave me a big squeeze. I looked up and it was Boston Bob. I met Bob's friend Randy in line last year registering for IMAZ. Randy shared my blog, Bob read it and was hooked. We've been FB friend ever since and it was fun to meet him in person! His smile is as big and his laugh is as loud as I thought it would be!

I cleaned up in the merchandise tent (thanks for the birthday gifts dad & mom) and was on the quest to find Bryan Mayes and David Downey. The two that were waiting for me at the IMKS finish line, long after it had been torn down.

I found David and before I could even finish walking to him he popped up out of his chair and greeted me with a huge hug! He commented on how good I looked and was telling me how he was going to be tracking me and he was going to find me a few times on the run! I told him I looked forward to his cheers and couldn't wait to see him at the finish. He reminded me, people like me, people like my friend Polly, is why he does this.

After running around to several locations we found Bryan! It was great to see him and I found out he'll be in the transition area so he was going to cheer me on as he saw me come through every time. He was going to try to find Mike Reilly to introduce me and he told me how proud of me he was.

We went to go meet Chris for lunch and on the way out I saw they had put up the finisher's arch. I slowly walked over to it by myself. I felt that stinging sensation in my nose and I couldn't help but tear up. I imagined how amazing the finish line would be on Sunday night. It looked so small there by itself,  but I could picture the mobs of people, the loud music, the lights and energy surrounding it in a few days. Then I thought to myself "do I have strength to get there?" Kelly and Marcy came up and reassured me that I definitely have what it takes to get there.

We caught an athlete's meeting and then picked up our bikes. It was nice to see SassyRoo again. I was ready to ride her after a long week away. Before I left it was recommended that I move my back tire to the front from riding the last few weeks on the trainer. I paid and left it there for them to do then move to the tribike transport pick up area. My bad, my own mistake. When I picked up Sassy, I immediately noticed that they didn't change the tubes out. So the valve extender was way too long for my front 404 and the back did not have a long enough extender for the 808. So I couldn't put air in the back tire. Fuck me. I took it to the mechanic and it was a two hour wait, so I took it to a local tri shop here. They couldn't get to it until 10 AM tomorrow so I probably will have to pick it up after the panel discussion tomorrow.

I should change it myself and practice changing the tires. But let's be honest, I don't trust myself doing that with this big of a race before. Too much room for an error. So I'll just have to get it and ride tomorrow.

I got home and went for a light run. Felt good. Lungs feel a little tight, but overall not bad. I started the long task of organizing all my gear bags. I spent about 90 minutes organizing all my stuff into piles before I left Indy. Tonight it took about 90 minutes to get my gear bags decorated in teal duck tape (thanks Kim!) and organized. I also wrote out my nutrition on note cards for people to have on the course and for me to have. Labor intensive, but it helps me commit it to memory.

I keep going over the marathon in my mind. That's a fucking long way to run. I can't really get my head around it. So I just stop trying. Just one foot in front of the other until I hit that finish line. I should have ample time to do it, even if I have to walk more than I want. As David says, walk with purpose. As he and Brian told me, don't stop to chat with people and take pictures. Hahha they know me all too well.

I'm looking forward to talking about Back on My Feet tomorrow on the athlete's panel discussion at 12:30 in the Ironman Village. With off-line donations and a few outstanding pledges we've raised $14,845 - how awesome would it be to hit $15,000? Thank you for the support! I love how much this race has become greater than me. It's become about helping others in ways far more reaching than I can ever comprehend.

"The positive thinker can see the invisible, feel the intangible and achieve the impossible" - Unknown

DAMN STRAIGHT. Positive thoughts. Let my faith outweigh my fear. Don't fear my goal. I've got this!

Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow!

15 days out from IMAZ I ran the Monumental half marathon. The entire week before I was oblivious that I was running it. Sure, I had registered months ago, I was working the expo at our booth. But I was so busy going into the week I had blocked it from my mind.

When I really thought about it, I wasn't sure I wanted to run it. I'm feeling fine going into IM. Although I'm over it, over training, over feeling a slave to my workouts. Not that I don't like doing them, just like a defiant teenager, I just wish it was on my schedule. I was a little fearful about having a poor race. I was afraid that would destroy me mentally going into AZ.

I woke up the morning of the race and threw on some capri pants I've never run more than a few miles in. Realized as I was running out the door that I probably needed to grab some gels. To be honest I'm not really even sure I had breakfast before I left.

It was a perfect day and great weather for the race. Cool and not too sunny. Loved spending the morning before the race with the team. Everyone was excited, lots of first time fulls and 13.1's. Some were even running their first 5K.

I decided to run this one without my watch or music and go at about 85-90% effort. I had to go to the bathroom at mile 1, so I waited 10 minutes in line. After I got back onto the course I was behind the "end of the line" bus. Which pissed me off, I probably started too far to the back, but I had passed a good amount of people and now they had all passed me. So I took off running and found people that looked familiar, I think I probably ran about a 10 or 11 minute mile from marker 1 to 2.

The entire day I kept the quote from the Cycle Studio wall about "not able to breathe? You won't die" so I ran hard until I couldn't breathe and then I started walking until I caught my breath. Of course I forgot to take my inhaler before I left that morning, because after all, it wasn't until 4:30 that morning that I accepted the fact that I was running a half.

Around mile 9.5 I realized that there was a cramp coming on and I didn't have any water to take salt. The next water station was at mile 11 where I would run through our water station. After I got through that station is when my cramps set in. I haven't had cramps in months and I forgot how awful they can be and how much they can really slow you down. I was walking to stretch them out and waiting for the salt to kick in.

Then this guy passes me. I look at his shoes and see shit. Literally. The dude had crapped his pants. It was all over the back of him, on his legs, shoes and shirt. I almost barfed. I felt bad for him but had to get away from him. I couldn't be behind him anymore. So that motivated me to start running through the cramps and I passed him and hit mile maker 12. There was a dj that started playing that dumb "what does the fox say" song so that was in my head for the last 13.1 miles "Fraka-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow!" I think it helped me to run faster as that is not what I wanted in my head. I ran into Lindsey and she ran a few blocks with me, it was good motivation to hustle to the finish.

I crossed the finish line at an official 12 minute PR that has been in place since 2011. I was pissed that I missed a sub 3 by 3 fucking minutes. But if you unofficially take the 10 minutes off from my bathroom stop, then I killed that sub 3; taking 22 minutes of my best time. Averaging a 13:13 mile, well ahead of race pace for AZ.

Maybe it was the guy with the shit on him that I owe my PR. Maybe it was seeing some familiar faces on the course. Maybe it was just meant to be. Whatever it is, I'm glad it was a good day. I probably lost about 5 minutes to the cramps, but it was a good reminder that regardless of the weather of how I'm feeling, I need to stick to my nutrition plan 100%. Yes, I think I've learned that lesson a few times, but always a good reminder.

Coming out of Saturday I'm FINALLY SO EXCITED for Arizona. It's take me a while to finally start to get excited! I'm excited to see what the day brings, excited for everything I've been working toward for the last year to come together.

This is my brain. In a blender

If my life were a tv show, this episode would start with me on my yoga mat tonight, laying on my back after many failed attempts to do a handstand listening to "Sweet" by Dave Matthews. A song that I picked out as my Ironman song back in late November. Tears would be streaming down my face, in my own world reflecting on my journey. Then the episode would flash back in a quick montage back to a few weeks ago when all these thoughts started whirling in my brain, like ingredients in a blender. But it's fucking not. It's real life. So I'll try my best to organize these thoughts.

The past few weeks since Cedar Point have brought some great things. I have found a confidence to do this race that wasn't always there before. I've lost almost 22 pounds science my ass whopping at Ironman Kansas and thus my run, bike and swim have gotten faster. When I'm running I don't recognize the shoes going faster below me. When I'm in the Cycle Studio riding I don't recognize the legs in the mirror. When my arms come out of the water, I can't be sure, but I think I see some muscle definition as I swim. Who the fuck is this person? A person that has a long way to go, but has come a long fucking way.

I tackled my first 100 mile bike. Completed it at my target MPH. I even commented with Aaron and Laura about how incredible it was that I could maintain 16.0 for 100 miles when I struggled to keep 13.5 for 90 minutes just in December. I'm so close to 5 miles per hour on my run (on a good day) that I can practically taste it. (Who came up with that dumb saying anyway? How do you taste a run?)

I went to go get my long-sleeve wetsuit. Which I've been putting off and it bit me in the ass. I arrive and there's hardly anything left. I pick out one that I know won't fit but I try it on to get a feel for what size to order. To much disappointment of many anticipated readers, there really isn't a sausage in a wetsuit part 2 to the story. I was still full of incredible anxiety as I went to try it on. I even texted my friend Andrea to bitch that I was half tempted to say fuck the race because the thought of this wetsuit made me sick to my stomach. But as I got it on, it went up far easier than I ever remembered my other wetsuit experience. I still got sweaty like Ross in that episode of friends, but despite being a size too small, I still got it on. Don't get me wrong, I still was fucking glad to have it off and I still have yet to have the final "fitting" with the suit I order, but not nearly as traumatic as the first go-round. Thinking about swimming 2.4 miles in a long sleeve wetsuit is enough to keep me up at night, but I'll freak out after I have my first swim in it :)

Last week I wrapped up a job I've had for almost 5 years and went on to my new job. A dream job marrying my passion for fundraising, service and an organization that I love. With this transition came a lot of stress and unexpected twists. With the training schedule I'm fucking starving all the time and Thursday night I hit a wall. I couldn't swim another night, so I didn't. But then I ate to fill that starving void and felt guilty the entire night. Friday I made up for it some and I was determined to have a great training weekend.

I was supposed to run a 10K with BoMF, we ran in a re-entry facility with inmates that have been training for this race. It was going to be 22 laps and about lap 3 I had to stop in the bathroom as I wasn't feeling well. Then lap 8 I had to stop again and I puked my guts out. I thought about powering through but decided it wasn't worth it so I stopped at 11 laps for the 5K. Despite getting sick, one of the more rewarding experiences I've had running. Sunday I set out for a 100 mile ride and had great ride support. My stomach was feeling okay through lap 1. Around mile 42, in the middle of lap 2 I felt sick. Even Kim noted my face showed I wasn't feeling well. I stopped to try to settle my stomach and puked again in the corn fields. Meanwhile Kim and Robert are chatting away about Ironman Chattanooga. That's true friendship that friends don't get grossed out while you're yacking up EFS, salt tablets and stinger waffles. It's really fucked up that I was contributing to the conversation between yacking.

I got back on the bike and rode out another 18 miles and we hit 60. I was feeling okay but I couldn't keep any nutrition down. I thought about all the people that said the puked in Kona on Saturday and kept going. So I thought I should keep going and not be a pussy. But we talked it through and decided I should probably call it a day and get some rest and try to keep fluids down. I guess there's some important lessons to learn, I need to talk to Heather about what to do if I puke on the bike. I also need to think about carrying some tums on the bike, just in case. Kim and Robert told me NOT to worry about this as a sign that I can't do this race. They're right, I've done the distance, my increased speed are buying me some buffer time come race day and I've got one more long ride (112 miles) before I taper.

Today for the first time in 3 days I had a workout without puking! Small victories. I think this recent occurrence of puking has been attributed to something I ate late last week.

I can't lie, these past few weeks I still have had some mental battles. What am I going to do with all my free time post Ironman? Who am I without Ironman training? What if I don't finish??? Then I get an email from SWA today reminding me that my trip is "right" around the corner, that means Ironman Arizona is right around the corner. I freak out a bit, my chest gets tight and my heart races. And besides, since when is a month right around the corner? Screw you SWA.

Fast forward back to my mat tonight. It was a great class, small with lots of random moves and music. Hitting the spots I needed to hit. Feeling a little defeated after wanting to do a handstand so bad and not quite getting there, my song comes on. I just lay there realizing I haven't heard it in months and I take the words in. Next thing I know I'm crying. Not bawling, but a steady flow of tears streaming down my face. In those 4 minutes and 12 seconds the entire last year was a montage in my head. All the frustrations, the set backs, the victories, the amazing and incredible support from people in my life and strangers following my story. I can't believe how fucking far I've come.

I can't even remember the last song of the evening. But as I laid there the vision of what I want in the coming months came into focus. I want to improve my conscious contact with God. I grew up going to church and believing in god because that is what I was told. After I was old enough to figure out religion for myself I resented God for what happened to me as a young child. As I've worked a program I've realized that I no longer resent God, but now that I have the realization I'm ready to improve my contact.

I'm looking forward to the off season to continue to drop weight and build muscle. You had better watch out F35-39, next season I'm fucking coming for your podium spots! Holy shit, being in 35-39 next year is another mindfuck, am I really old enough to be in the 35-39 age group??

I'm looking forward to continuing my passions without fear. I realized after tonight I need not have any fear about finishing Ironman Arizona. I've put in the work and have the skills to finish. BUT even if I don't finish, I have no reason to be ashamed. I've tackled more than most people thought I was capable of and more importantly, more than I thought I could ever accomplish.

I can't really say why these lyrics make sense as my Ironman song, but they make sense in my heart, which is all that really matters...34 days to go!

Try to swim, keep your head up

Kick your legs never give up, boy

If I could I'd turn it around

Let me out I wanna get out now

You know the feeling when you're in too deep

And then you make it out the taste so sweet

Sweet

Sweet

I'm too high I wanna come down

And I'm too old to want to be younger now

But if I could I'd turn it around

Let me out I want to get out now 

You know the feeling when you're in too deep

And then you make it out the taste so sweet

Sweet

Sweet

Cover me, cover me, cover me

Till I'm gone

Cover me, cover me, cover me

Till I'm gone

Cover me, cover me, cover me

Till I'm gone

Gone

And if I could I'd turn it around yeah

You know the feeling when you're in too deep

And then you make it out it tastes so sweet

The last minute add with a big reward

Steelhead was supposed to be my last 70.3 of the season. It wasn't. I knew I was going to be at Rev3 Cedar Point to cheer Brian on his full iron distance race. I didn't realize I'd be there racing myself.

After Steelhead we switched up my nutrition plan on the bike and run and I really wanted a race setting to give it a try. So CP 70.3 was a last minute add. And damn did it pay off.

The agreement to adding this race was there wasn't a taper going in and no recovering coming out. Training right through it. The Saturday before I ran a half marathon and rode 52 miles. I didn't have any expectations going into the race. I knew I should be able to improve my time from last year's race. I did have a lot of anxiety that Brian would finish before me since he started 2 hours before me and is twice as fast as me. Other than that I wasn't nervous or excited; my mood was pretty neutral.

I picked up my race packet and was pissed to see I was the LAST wave AGAIN! I purposely didn't enter into the Athena so I wouldn't be the last wave off, thus improving my odds that Brian wouldn't beat me in. But they changed waves and I would be the last to start at 8:45 - boo!

The weather going into the race was perfect. Mild temperatures, low wind. Too perfect of conditions to stay that way for race day. In the athletes meeting they told us there was a 50|50 chance the swim was going to be changed. They say that ever year, the red buoys were already on the lake Erie swim course, we doubted it was going to be moved.

Before the race I had told a few people I wanted to run good mental race and if I did, the physical would come along with it. I had a goal of finishing 8:15, which would be a 29 minute improvement over Steelhead 1 month prior. At this race I ran into Kenrick from the Bruised Banana (check it out if you're an endurance athlete!), nice to meet people in person that you meet online through a common love of the sport. Kenrick had sent me a really nice note saying how much he loved my Kansas race report.

Race morning was pretty windy. You could hear the waves crashing on the beach of lake Erie, yeah not a good sign. The swim was moved into the marina. The water was so rough in Erie they couldn't even go get the red buoys to move to the other swim course. This new swim course also meant a .6 mile run from the swim exit to transition. Of course the one time I don't bring extra running shoes to a race is the one time I need them! I figured it would be my luck someone else would accidentally take mine and I'd be out shoes for the half marathon. So I decided to run barefoot.

I joked the night before that it was becoming too easy to pack my transition bag. Well I failed as I forgot to pack running socks. I had time to take them to transition so as I walked up to my bike they started playing Thunderstruck. I said out loud "fuck it's going to be a good day" as I used this song to pump me up my first year of running half marathons. As I exited they played Calvin Harris "I Feel So Close to You" another song that gets me pumped up. Any nerves that had developed that morning had calmed. I knew I had it in me to have a good race, so it was time to deliver.

The benefit of the swim being moved is I got to watch Brian start and end the swim and run toward transition. He looked really strong, so I had a feeling he was going to have a great day. His dad and I were talking for almost two hours before my wave went off. Then I realized I forgot my inhaler, my cycle glasses and headband for the bike. Super big fail. So much for being cocky about quickly packing my transition bag. Luckily Monika had her inhaler so she lent it to me for before the swim. I gave my cycle glasses to Ron to give me as I ran through to the bike and I would go without the headband.

The wave start turned into a time trial start so I got in the water right after my friend Stephanie. Right before we got in the wind had really picked up and the water was starting to get a bit choppy. The course was unfamiliar but pretty simple, counter clockwise around the island. It was a pretty easy swim until I got to the thin channel between the boat docks and the island. That's where I encountered three different swim cap colors of waves that started ahead of me and people back stroking. And red caps, you stay away from red caps - people who have self identified themselves as weak swimmers. With all this shit I couldn't really find a clear path to get forward so I was a little closer to the island (and the rocks beneath me!) than I would have liked. There was a slight current helping us on the back side of the island. Then the last turn was straight back to the boat ramp. This part sucked, I felt like I wasn't making any progress and actually hit rocks as I swam in. Last year I was in the last wave and the 2nd to last person out of the water. This year I was far from the last person out, nice improvement!

I was just glad to be out of the water and I actually was running, I knew it was going to be a good day if I was running right out of the swim. Coming out of the bike transition I was exactly on time to make the 8:15. Taking out on the bike I passed about two dozen people, feeling strong. The first hour I averaged 20mph then slowed a bit coming into town and some of the hills. I made the mistake of eating a mojo bar in hour 1 instead of 3 like the planned called for and I was having GI issues coming into the weekend. That and perhaps a wavy swim caused me to feel like I was going to puke on the bike. It was a bit hard getting some of my salt tablets down. As I was coming out of town into the head wind at the back end of the course I saw Brian going into town and I knew he'd pass me in a few miles to finish his second loop of the course.

Miles 26-44 sucked ass. The wind was not fun on the back of the course and after a while it didn't matter which direction you were headed, you were going into the wind. Mile 44 is when I got my second wind and knew I was almost in. Coming into transition Ron told me Brian wasn't in off the bike yet, so my goal was to get as far into the run as possible before he caught me again.

Coming out of transition onto the run I was within a minute of my goal times. Monika gave me her inhaler again and I was on my way into the boring run known as the CP course. I passed Luke and Sean coming in as I was going out, it was nice to see them on the course. The prior year they had already finished by the time I started the run. I saw Ben as he had about 1 mile left, again, he had already finished before I went out to run, so happy about the improvement. About mile 2 I had a woman come up behind me and she said "girl you passed me on the bike and I tried like hell to catch you." Weird things I'm not used to hearing. Of course I never saw her again on the run :|

I ran the first 5 miles, the longest I've run in a 70.3 race to start. Knowing that Brian was going to tell me to run if he came up behind me and I was walking kept me running. Regardless of the motivation, I now know coming out of the race, I can do more than I think I can. I think in between miles 4 and 5 is where he passed me. After you wrap around the edge of the water you run up and down and up and down 3 city streets. So god awful boring. I struggled on these streets, but once I got back onto the main drag I knew it was the last stretch so I picked my pace back up. Kenrick doing the full Rev race passed me twice on the run and it was fun to cheer for each other as he passed. What a great guy, he was doing so well on his race, holding the lead and yet he still had a smile and encouraging words for me. There's a lot of great athletes in this sport, but the ones that are still able to offer encouragement to fellow athletes are the amazing ones in my book!

With about 3 miles to go I passed Brian going back into town for his 2nd loop of the run, still looking strong, breaking 11 hours was going to happen! I ran back into the park and saw all my friends and Ron which put a big smile on my face. It was a bummer they ran out of finisher medals before I got to the finish line, but I borrowed Ben's for my finisher picture. I was bummed that I missed my goal finish by 4 minutes and 21 seconds. But I was still pretty happy to come so close. I had taken 25 minutes off my time in Steelhead, I had taken 1h 3 min off my CP 70.3 time in 2012.

I started thinking about all the places I could have shaved time. I probably would have done it if they hadn't moved that swim and added the .6 mile transition. I shouldn't have stopped to pee on the run course. Those two together I might have broke 8 hours, hahaha.

I had another PR and I got to watch Brian finish his race. It was a good day. Brian did an amazing job and met his goal of finishing sub 11. He blew it away at 10:53 and won 3rd in his age group. I've been really lucky to have had the opportunity to travel to three races with him. I've picked up a lot of good tips and habits and his performances have inspired me to continue to improve and keep blowing past my previous PRs.

Monday night I went into my masters swim and it was announced we had a 500M time trial. What? Are you fucking kidding me, that's like a pop quiz after a mid-term. My coach said I could do a recover swim instead, but I decided to try. I posted a pretty good time for me and probably could have squeezed out a little more effort. I rode 5 hours yesterday with a brick run and had a 2 hour ride and 1 hour run tonight. After a 13 hour training weekend, I feel pretty good and am ready to go after these next 8 weeks of training. Race day is 9 WEEKS from today!

Blows your mind-Volunteering at IMKY

I went to Louisville for the Ironman to cheer on the gazillion people I knew racing. I was able to kayak the swim and work in the women's change tent in T2. It was a great perspective to other parts of the Ironman I hadn't seen that up close and personal.

Kayaking the swim was fun, but a lot of work! I think we kayaked at least 3 miles that day. The current was pretty strong and I was in the down current so I had to keep moving back up stream. I have always appreciated the race volunteers but have even more respect for those out there keeping us safe. It's a lot of work kayaking, keeping out of race traffic and watching everyone to make sure people are doing okay - all at once.

It blows my mind some of things I saw out there:
-The pros have an amazing stroke that caused my jaw to drop in awe. Glad to see most only breathe out of one side and breathe every other stroke too!
-One guy stopped at my kayak to rest, he asked how much longer he had to go. I told him he was 2.5 buoys away from the half way buoy so probably about 1.6 miles. He said, no, you're wrong, it's only half a mile, I can see Joe's Crab Shack from here. I told him I was pretty sure it was longer than that. He argued again, I said, well if you're that close, go swim and rest in transition.
-One guy stopped and was chatting a bit. I asked him if it was his first Ironman, he said it was his first open water swim. Are you fucking serious? Yes, an Ironman does seem like a good time to take your first open water swim. Another guy told me it was his first triathlon. Where do people come up with these ideas?
-One lady was FREAKING OUT in the water. Every kayaker knew her, Rosie. It was her second Ironman. Because she was in sheer panic, they had a kayak following her, which I thought was unfair, but what do I know. Her personal kayakers needed to help someone else so she had a meltdown in front of my kayak. Yelling and screaming bloody murder, she wanted me to come into race traffic so she could stop. I told her to swim to me. I seriously thought she was going to tip me as she was shaking so much. She had been back stroking and I first thought she was drowning as she was splashing and making such a commotion. I get that people panic in the water, but come on.

After kayaking I'm feeling good about my 2.4 swim. I know I swim stronger than some of the people who finished, so I'm not too concerned.

I'm beginning to see that people do not have respect for the races. I always love it when I tell someone I'm doing an Ironman and they say I could do the entire thing except for the swim. Really? Do you really know what the distances feel like? Or people say, I could fuddle my way through the swim. No, actually you really can't. The swim is the most dangerous part, people panic being in a large body of water, body parts flying around smacking each other.

T2 was an interesting experience. It's hotter than hell and the smell of urine is nauseating. It's really interesting to watch the spectrum of attitudes of people coming in. Some are grateful for the help and volunteers. Some are in their zone and don't really acknowledge you. And some are just bitches that wouldn't give you the time of day regardless of the situation. I touched more disgusting clothes and peed-on cycle shoes than I'd like to think about. It was interesting to see how some people pack the kitchen sink in their transition bag and others pack very little. I picked up a few good ideas for my own race. I was able to help Lindsey and Tina, a blind athlete and guide, it was especially cool because they are friends of my good friends the Crowleys. It was nice to be able to see all my friends come through and give them a kiss wishing them luck on the run. Low lights: One woman had too much sweat in her eyes after spraying with sunscreen, there weren't any towels so she used my shirt to wipe her face. Then I was crouching to the ground to organize a woman's stuff and she was sitting changing her shorts and she peed on me. BARF. I don't think I have ever felt so gross leaving that tent. Tossed the shirt and took a shower.

Enjoyed the finish line at 4th Street Live! I would like to do that race one day just for the finish line. LOVED watching all my friends make their dreams come true by finishing their first Ironman. And watching my friends finish their Xth Ironman, PR or QUALIFY FOR KONA!! Congratulations to Shea :-)

Everyone did a great job and I'm so honored to know such amazing athletes. We all know I love to cheer just as much as I love to race (well, next post might change that) so it was a great day with lots of wonderful friends.

30,000 feet; makes me wanna puke

This past Saturday marked 3 months out from Ironman Arizona. I started the day with a mile open water swim then headed out for a 62 mile bike ride. I popped a spoke on my back wheel of my ZIPP around mile 16 and my ride was over. I was so bummed fucking pissed.

Trying to look to the silver lining I thought it was better to happen in a training ride and not the big race. Sunday I went out for another go. At mile 20 with my gears feeling really slow, I stopped to spin my back wheel. It didn't even make it all the way around. Jesus Christ. I centered my wheel and it was like night and day.

Here I am 3 months out and still making stupid, rookie mistakes. I know better than to not check my wheels after putting it back on the bike. The rest of my 70 mile ride was MUCH better, amazing what proper working equipment will do.

70 is my longest ride to date. I went home and fell asleep after lunch. Woke up and felt like I got run over by a truck. I FREAKED out, how in the hell was I going to go another 42 miles then run a marathon? The view of the Ironman from 30,000 feet makes me want to puke. Not nearly as bad as a year ago, but it still freaks me out.

After calming myself down I thought back to just a few months ago. A 50 mile ride was a huge deal. I had prepare the night before, pack my stuff and go to bed early; just like a long ride. Now it's no big deal. 50 miles is just a medium ride, I don't even think about it before I roll out. I don't have to hype myself up for it. I'm trying to remind myself it will all come together. I have a great coach, nutritionist and plenty of friends to guide me. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

A friend shared this bit with me:
"that's called an epiphany, not a freak out. A freakout does not provide opportunity to grow, an epiphany does"

I was in New Orleans a few weeks ago for a board meeting and convention. People I haven't seen in two years were telling me they read every blog I post and I inspire them. One of my friends that avoids social media has my blog on her bookmark bar. I'm getting much better at accepting those compliments and saying thank you. I've never been good at that, usually I feel the need to reply with a compliment back. One of the guys on our Back on My Feet has been helping me with that. Just another example of how I get out just as much as I give by being involved.

One of my friends and I went to Tarot card reader in a voodoo shop. It was just for fun. You know those cards can be applied to anything going on your life. Basically said I needed to let go of a resentment where I felt betrayed and then I could experience full happiness in all aspects of my life. She also said I was playing a role in a bigger picture now and hadn't fully embraced it.

As silly as the experience was, it's really caused me to stop and reflect. Training for an Ironman is so much more than the physical. It's more about the mental. Sharpening my mental focus and pushing myself beyond whatever I thought possible. In the past two weeks of reflection I've started to let go of this resentment I've been carrying for far too long. It's freeing, but a little scary. In a weird way the resentment has protected me from being vulnerable. Being vulnerable sucks, I hate it. But I often forget that being vulnerable can sometimes open me to amazingly beautiful experiences.

I spent this past weekend with lots of different friends; some of which have come with my new tri way of life. I really loved it. People who love me for who I am. I don't have to dumb myself down or talk myself up. People who have seen me at my best and my worst and it doesn't change their opinions of me, one would even argue it makes them love me more. Friends who inspire me more than I could ever express. Just another gift of my journey on the road to Ironman.

In my career I've been blessed that I can be both strategic and operational. Help develop the high-level big picture and then break it into operational tasks to achieve that strategy. So it's a bit out of my comfort zone to be struggling with the overall picture of Ironman right now. But I need to trust in my training and wait for the big picture to come together November 17.

PR in Benton Harbor

Steelhead 70.3 was the 2nd major race on the road to Ironman. I had some nerves going into this race, mainly because I knew I needed a good race coming off Kansas heading into Arizona. I guess I needed it mentally to know that the Arizona finish was still a possible reality. Because after Kansas, I had my doubts. The past three weeks in training have been a struggle, I've been getting the time in, not really able to find the inner drive to push myself. Luckily last weekend I awoke from the fog with a renewed motivation.

After Saturday's practice swim, bike and run my nerves disappeared. The swim felt good, we were swimming the direction they suggested for race day, even though against the current, but Steelhead is known for a fast swim since they swim the swimmers with the current. The bike felt incredible, Sassyroo felt like she was one with the road. My run was pretty strong as well; easily within my 13 minute training runs.

I was ready. It was all mental at this point. Get my head in the game. I know a ton of people racing. I knew that on the bike I needed to keep my head forward and not keep an eye out for anyone I knew. I was going to follow my nutrition perfectly. I needed to also keep the same strategy for the run. And push myself past comfortable, it's okay for it to hurt.

                                      Back on My Feet - Kelly, Brian and I before the swim

Race morning they had us swim South to North. You have to walk a mile on the beach to get to the swim start. It's an awful pre-race activity if you ask me. As we're walking to the start it's hard not to notice that the current is flowing North to South, not South to North. Um, aren't we going to be swimming into the current? I figure they know something we don't so I didn't worry.

True to form I'm one of the few without their wetsuit on, water temp was 67. The waves are pretty rough swimming out to the first buoy, so most people are wading out instead of swimming. I got to the first buoy and started off. For the first time in a race I was right there with my  cap color. I didn't see the next color come through until buoy three, so I was cruising right along. I was swimming the most consistent, strong swim I have in a race, ever. I was at 17 minutes at 1000 meters, at this rate it's going to be one hell of a PR on the swim. It's definitely wavy, but I'm going with the flow. I see a lot of people breast stroking and back stroking. A few people hanging on to kayaks and buoys. Right around the orange buoys (half way heading back) the swim starts getting rough and my time is slowing down. I'm trying not to get upset, but I keep thinking "fuck, I thought this was a fast swim?? What am I doing wrong?" I must have kicked a woman backstroking as she screams "what the fuck" I don't even apologize. It's an open water swim, it's going to happen. I got kicked, clawed and someones beard swam by and gave me some rash on my shoulder, it happens. I only paused 3 times to pull up my shorts (if you know how to put in a drawstring, let me know).

Running up the beach was terrible. I was thinking I love the beach but hate sand. Brian tapped my shoulder as he ran by and I made my way to my bike.

Transition is SUPER long and NARROW. It's a giant clusterfuck and I probably wouldn't do that race again for that reason. I tried my best to clean all the sand off my feet, but I failed as the sand rubbing in my cycle shoes would later rub the pads of my feet raw.

The beginning of the bike I was conservative to catch my breath. The first big climb is a false flat out on the highway. I was in quite a bit of traffic for the first time. The entire bike I was with tons of people. I could see a rainbow of jerseys ahead of me and knew there was a sea of people behind me. Going up a hill I was coming up behind a guy, I burned some energy and passed him as I was within drafting distance. As I passed him someone passed me and yelled to the guy "Pick up the pace dude, you just got checked by a chick" it made me laugh and gave me some motivation to dig deeper.

Nothing major to report in the bike. I kept a steady pace, picked up the pace after mile 25. The ride back in on the high way is smooth and fast. A few climbs, but the wind is at your back. It dawned on me that I really didn't know how to handle passing and avoiding drafting. I've never stayed with the pack before. Thanks to all my friends who have taught me proper bike gearing on rolling hills. I had a fun time gaining speed in the downhill passing everyone coasting and having great power and momentum going up the hills. It was awesome to be doing the passing and not being passed. I rolled through a small crowd and passed a pack of guys, some little kid screamed "girls rule." I thought "so this is what racing feels like." The last 5 miles I slowed down a bit, but still finished strong.

As I was running my bike into transition (um I'm pretty sure I've never run my bike through transition) this guy stopped without notice in front of me. My front tire hit his leg and he yelled at me. The stop of momentum caused my bike to fly on its side and a piece flew off. I picked up the piece and my bike and ran in front of him. I tried to clean my feet off more and took off on the run. The first half mile felt good, I was running a good pace. Then a cramp in my aductor kicked in and I walked to stretch it out. I knew that stopping to stretch would make something else cramp up. Best to take some more salt and just walk it off. A pack of three, that I recognized from the bike jogged by and said how strong and amazing I looked on the bike when I passed them, which was nice.

I was following my nutrition as written and my stomach was NOT happy. I couldn't find a groove to run at all, the pads of my feet were on fire, so I was trying my best to keep moving forward. Finally about mile 4 I realized that when I train with cola it goes flat in my water bottle. The cola on the course is fresh out of the bottle and full of fizz. Once I realized this I stopped the cola and took in perform instead. It took about 2 miles to work itself out, then I was able to start running. I ran, well jogged, almost the entire last 6 miles. Unfortunately I just couldn't get a faster pace going. I guess to look at the positive, I wasn't shuffling, I was picking my feet up, just slowly. LOL The second loop of the run was desolate. Oh yes, this is the race I know. I just kept chugging along, keeping a guy with a yellow shirt in view for most of the rest of the race. I couldn't take anymore sweet liquid so I lived off water and salt. Oh and every aid station, I asked the volunteer to dump ice down my back. It worked well to keep me cool as it was getting hot.

I had accidentally hit pause instead of lap on my watch so it stopped, I didn't realize it until about mile 5 on the bike. So I really had no clue what my time was, just a best estimate. So I had no clue if I was within time or not. I keep thinking every Ironman truck rolling by was going to have a guy pop out to take my timing chip.

I was really disappointed with the fail on the run. The rest of the race had been pretty well executed. Then it hit me. Triathlon is kind of like the golf saying "drive for show, putt for dough" as the bike is where you can show off, but the run will make or break you. Same with golf, show off with your crazy drives, but if you can't putt and play the shots 100 yards out, you're never going to have great scores.

I started playing the what ifs for my race in Arizona and decided to just shut my head off and finish. I came into the finisher's chute and saw Jereme, then Brian, Kelly, Ryan, Ana, Polly and Amanda. It was so nice to have a group waiting for me and made me smile. I saw Jaime at the end as I got my finisher's medal and hat. It was a good day. I PR'd by 41 minutes over my Cedar Point time and I finished with a smile (not that you really can compare one course to another).

I wasn't feeling good about the race because of my run. I talked to my coach and he said he was pleased. I said you're the expert in this, if you're pleased, I will be too.

T Minus 4 Months - The Complete Meltdown

It's a black fly, in your chardonnay; isn't it ironic? Yes, it is quite ironic that my last post was how I was in love with training, life is grand. Just a few weeks later I've had a complete meltdown and have to fucking ride my bike on my trainer in my house just so I don't get any ideas about forgetting to stop at a stop sign during a ride in the cornfields.

Coming off two pretty damn solid 15 hour training weeks and this week I struggled to get in 10.5. This meltdown is not triggered by my training. It's triggered by shit outside training weighing me down, like being stuck in quick sand, until I eventually I've sunk.

I'm facing some conflicts at work with my personal values. I only share this because I laid it all out for my boss on Wednesday. I'm struggling to find solutions and asked for help. I've tried hard, but it's spilled into every nook and cranny of my life and I haven't felt this depressed since probably my first year in college. Unlike college, I've not cried or felt hurt, I've just been numb to everything around me.

Everything around me is a fucking mess. My lawn is a disaster. My house is a wreck. I've been living out of laundry baskets of clean clothes in my dining room for the last week. I've been sleeping where ever I seem to fall asleep after playing hours of candy crush (thank god people for all the lives you've sent me!). In the past two weeks I've been in two conversations about candy crush, for like an hour each. How does a game invade our lives so much? It's really crack.

Oops, tangent.

I tried lots of things this week and nothing snapped me out of this fuckity fuck fuck funk. Things would help temporarily but eventually I was back in funkville. I should pick up the phone and call someone but I don't have anything to talk about. I went to a meeting, that didn't help either. I skipped training and went to go clean my house and instead watched 6 hours straight of Sex and the City.

I went to Dave and had a good time. I'm concert-ed out until Mumford and Sons. I didn't drink much because I knew that would make all this shit I'm going through even worse. I went to cheer at Muncie 70.3 hoping that would help me get excited about something in my life again. I found myself glad I wasn't racing and kinda wishing I wasn't racing at Steelhead. That's no bueno. I found myself surrounded by tons of people I know, many are really good friends, but I still felt alone. I saw a group of friends last night and felt isolated. Isolation is never a good sign, for me, that means I've gone deep in the throws of my depression and there's no quick fix.

I had breakfast with some friends this morning. I shared how I felt and then apologized for the word vomit. One said, "I've never heard you like this before, I don't mind, I've never seen you anything but happy." I realized that overall I'm pretty happy. I really am, but when I crash, I crash hard. When something attacks me at the core, it cuts deep. Henry, one of our Back on My Feet alum treated me to a car wash. He helped me to clean every inch of my car inside and out. It was nice to get the help, sometimes you give and sometimes you take. It was in that moment I realized how many people take from me. I guess I let them take, so it's my own fault. I got pissed for a brief moment taking inventory of those people who are the takers, but then I quickly remembered all the people in my life who give me encouragement and love. The friends, family and strangers that fill my cup when I need it.

I think that was the kickoff I needed to start digging out of the quick sand. I got my house clean today and got my workout in. I still have the feeling of wanting to isolate, so I know I've still got work to do, but at least my week should start a little better with things around me better organized.

I'm really looking forward to going to visit my parents this upcoming weekend in the mountains of Arizona. Good quality down time for lots of swims and runs. There's not much to do besides relax and enjoy being away, so I'm hoping that will help me gain clarity and focus.

Standing at the finish line at Muncie cheering everyone in brought me to tears so many times. Imagining all the personal battles everyone was overcoming to race. The people who were experiencing their first finish, qualifying for the World Championships in Vegas or even just struggling to get to the finish line. It reminded me why I'm doing this and affirmed that my motives are in order. How much I love the sport.

It made me want to race hard at Steelhead. I want a great race, I need a great race. So now it's time to go get it.