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