Carrerathon Augusto 18k Race Report(s)

Back in June, several members of my team from work participated in the Carrerathon 5k event, and we had a great time. When one of my coworkers suggested doing the 18k in the same series (on the same course!), I decided, why not? An 11 mile run will probably be on my schedule that weekend anyway as I train for Longhorn. I also took it as an opportunity to egg on some friendly competition between two of my coworkers.

As I ran along the Leon Creek Greenway today, it came to mind that there were all kinds of stories going on out there. Since this is my blog, I'll start with mine. 

I had a workout plan to run 11 miles today - 6 miles easy and 5 miles strong. Aixa signed up for the 18k as well, and she agreed to follow this same plan. In matchy matchy Lululemon (of course), we started the race from OP Schnabel park and settled into a comfortable pace (I'm not going to say easy because it was slightly faster than easy). We chatted with each other and the runners around us (shout out to the guy who called us "Iron Maidens," how clever is that?!). After the turnaround, we saw Brian, who was out for his own run,  and he commented that he'd pace us back to the finish line. "How fast do you want me to go?" he asked. I told him anything under 9 minute miles would be fine. 

Brian took off, Aixa followed, and they started to leave me behind. This was to be expected - Aixa and Brian are faster runners than me and my goal was just to keep Aixa in sight, stay within myself, and not blow up on the strong part of my run. After a couple of miles of hanging behind them, I realized that I was coming up on their heels. "Run faster!" I told Brian. So he did, and we followed. During this time, I realized how much fun I was having. I was running fast in the right heart rate zone, practicing passing people decisively and leaving them behind. And, when one of these people refused to allow it (my new friend Monica, we had chatted for a while on the way out), I didn't get discouraged, but just continued to chase her. It was fun to be racing! My toes started to hurt and my Achilles started to cramp, and I thought of a quote that Runner's World magazine had posted on Facebook just this morning - "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." I didn't even consider suffering. I was making a game of sticking to my plan and playing at racing with the competitors around me.

I was proud that I wasn't letting Aixa leave me in the dust, too. But as I caught her one more time with about a mile to go, I discovered that I wasn't killing it - she was just having a bad day (I found out later that she had also been stung by a bee!). Aixa complained that she was bonking, described a ridiculously high heart rate, and dropped back, urging me to keep going.

This doesn't happen. Aixa usually runs much faster than me. So it was uncomfortable for me to be in front of her. I know that sounds ridiculous, but there's a way that things usually go, and when things don't go the way they're supposed to, it's weird. I thought to myself that she was probably going to rally, so I hustled toward the finish line, which is up a big hill. I saw another girl running ahead of me and thought, I wonder if I can catch her? On a day that things were happening that weren't supposed to, I decided to try. One more time, with thoughts of Rinny and Leanda Cave in my head, I again did the thing where you run up on someone, pass them, and press on with a strong burst so that they can't stay with you. It felt awesome to practice and execute that. 

So that's the story of my racing. But there's tons more, and they're all so inspiring!

The "after" picture. Orissa is the smiling one. ;)

Orissa! She ran the 10k today. Orissa has been spending the summer getting faster. Over the years that we've trained together, she and I have both gone through the same progression from participant to competitor. But she hasn't had the benefit of the camp experience to help her through this, she's done it all by herself, and that makes me so impressed and so proud of her. Today she won second place in her age group and employed all the same skills that I practiced - pacing and picking off the competition, and it totally paid off and she came in fifth overall with a killer time. She knew that she had the possibility of winning the race and she went for it. As the saying goes, she shot for the moon and landed among the stars! Once you've been in that position, I don't think you can ever go back to "just participating" or "just racing against yourself." 

But, if you're just getting started, "just participating" is beyond awesome. I spent miles today being completely inspired by my coworker, Vincent, who ran the 18k today as his second-ever race - his first was the 5k back in June. As a new runner, he agreed to run today to race against another coworker (Mike, who has been running for years), but it's clear that along the way Vincent has discovered a love of running. When he talks about it, I remember how it felt as a beginner, when every run is your longest run ever, to be just totally amazed by what your own body can do. 

He's been diligently training, and he ran 10 miles on Monday after work just to see if he could. That's the furthest he's ever run until this morning. When I saw him on the out-and-back course, he was smiling and running and looking so happy, and I took such inspiration from that. I'd been egging him on to beat Mike at the race, and he didn't. But when he crossed the finish line maybe 5 or 10 minutes behind Mike, he looked so happy that you might think he'd won the whole race. It was awesome.

Vincent (kneeling) and Mike (standing) are the two guys on the right. This was taken at the 5k in June.

How about the comeback story - a former coworker, Stephanie, is training for the marathon, and I was happy to see her out there at the race today. Stephanie has crushed races, including marathons, in the past, but she's been busy for the past year with her new baby girl, who is now one year old. I'm inspired to see Stephanie picking up where she left off - training for another marathon, getting back into it, and even trying triathlons for a new challenge.

So many of us found something new in ourselves and celebrated being alive by running today. I'm so grateful to be feeling this, and so proud of all my friends (including the new ones!) for participating, racing, surviving, persevering, competing, inspiring - being the stars of their own racing stories. 

A Case of the "Now What's?"

As an avid reader of Slowtwitch and Triathlete/Lava magazines, I've been aware of the dreaded Post-Ironman Depression that can afflict athletes after completing that huge goal of finishing the first Ironman. And like the beginning of every article I've read about it, I'll start by saying "I never thought it would happen to me!"

I understand it. I was completely focused on a big goal for over a year, and once that goal was accomplished, it totally makes sense that I'd feel a little bit lost. However, as I trained for IMTX, I had other goals swimming around in my head for "later," and I figured that they'd be enough to get my attention and keep some drive and focus in the months after Ironman. This hasn't been so much the case, and I struggle day to day with finding motivation. Case in point, I'm officially training for the Austin 70.3 this fall, but I haven't registered for the race.

My friends have all been talking about the next full Ironman events that they're going to do. Some of them have already signed up for races next year. I've joined in these conversations, but in my mind I'm thinking I don't feel like doing all that training again for a long time! Luckily, the girls have talked more about 2015 than next year. I just don't know what I want to do next as far as long races go - and I just need to make myself be okay with that. There's no rush, right?

To add insult to injury (or whatever), my hamstring that was bothering me before IMTX has continued to speak up, but not enough to keep me from training. I've been (not-so-diligently) doing PT exercises to strengthen the muscles around it, but it still makes me notice it during and after workouts - not enough to slow me down but just enough to scare me and make me mad.

I used to spend a lot of time being blissfully happy and grateful that my body allows me to do this stuff every day, because I know that it's a gift and that no moment should be taken for granted. I want that feeling back.

I'm hoping that I'm coming out of it a little bit...this weekend was a GREAT one for training. We had some beautiful weather for a ride out to Castroville yesterday, and the cooler temps allowed for a quicker-than-usual long run this morning. It helps to have fast friends to chase plus the promise of a cold coffee drink at Starbucks afterwards. I know that all of this is supposed to be fun - well, this weekend was more fun than it's been in a long time. Who knows, I might even sign up for Longhorn today. ;)

Post-run Starbucks shenanigans.

Baby's First Triathlon (Small Texan Relay Race Report)

I was tempted to file this one under "related shenanigans," but it turned out to be quite a race! Of course Shelly has been my training buddy and bestie for years and years, and it's no secret that I've been missing her quite a bit in training lately due to her pregnancy. It's been great to be able to walk on breaks with her at work and swim with her - but that's no substitute for the daily smashfests on the bike and run that we used to endure together. I don't think she'd have any issue with me complaining about this.

What surprised me is that she misses the training and the racing too - I thought she'd be so wrapped up in nesting and whatever else you do to prepare for her little (now cantaloupe sized!) bundle of joy that she wouldn't really be missing all the triathlon stuff - but she totally does. So, because swimming is the one thing she can safely and comfortably do, we signed up for the relay race at the Small Texan out at Boerne Lake - with Shelly as the swimmer, me as the cyclist, and Orissa as the runner. The original Iron Whiners in action at this (sort of) Olympic distance race (1500 m swim, 45K bike, 10K run) under the name "San Antonio Smash."

All three of us talked about this being "just for fun," (ahem, isn't it all!?) but when race day came, of course we each had our goals. Shelly and I drove out to the lake together and met Brian and Orissa there. I have never done a tri relay before and it was quite a different feeling. Not the same pre-race butterflies as usual. Of course, because she was going first, Shelly had all of the butterflies racing around in her belly along with the little one.

We set up in transition and chatted with friends. Attended the pre-race meeting at the lake front, and the men's wave was off. Orissa and I hugged Shelly and sent her down to the water's edge. We watched from the boat ramp as the women and relays took off swimming 5 minutes after the men. Go Shelly! Her little yellow cap went off into the distance among all the green caps - there were only 5 relay teams for the Small Texan.

Orissa and I ran a quick (and exact) three-quarters of a mile to warm up and then we set up inside the transition area. Orissa would grab the chip off Shelly and transport it to my leg, and then I'd run out with my bike. As we stood there, the first racers started to come in. What a different experience that was! Some people are crazy and rushed and panicky in transition; others are smooth and quick. Some sit down and chat for a while. We saw one of the other relay people standing at the other side of the transition. I joked with him that I would chase him on the course later. Roland ran through transition so quickly that he forgot to take off his swim skin - Orissa and I screamed at him to take it off and grabbed it from him at the bike mount line before he took off to ride. Apryl ran through in first place. And then came Shelly! She had crushed the swim and made it up the long boat ramp and into transition in 31 minutes! We were in third place and it was my job to keep us there.

Off onto the bike! I ran out of transition and rushed onto my bike, smiling for Brian's photos and yelling at Linda and Heather who were cheering (so cool to have a cheering squad!). Out onto the I-10 access road and down the route that we used to ride every weekend when we were newbies a few short years ago.

The road was familiar with its chip seal and bumps. My heart rate was high and that was okay - even though Coachie had told me that I should plan to run afterwards, I knew that if I raced the bike right and treated it like a time trial, I wouldn't have anything left for a run and that was okay with me. I was flying. Racing past people and feeling super confident. The road was bumpy - it rattled my right elbow right out of my bars twice! My aero helmet felt hot at first but then I stopped noticing it. The route took us straight out to the Waring general store, and then we turned back towards the lake. Right before the turnaround, I caught a glimpse of the relay rider that I had joked with earlier. He was already coming back the other way. I yelled "I'm coming after you!" or something ridiculous like that, and made it my plan to catch him.

I love out-and-back courses because you can see where everyone is. You can also get encouragement from your friends - I enjoyed exchanging greetings with Carlos, Roland, Apryl, and others that I recognized as we flew by each other. The way back to the lake went by quickly as I picked off more of the riders in front of me.

Then, instead of turning into the lake, we had to ride past it, down a road that I've run on a few times but am not as familiar with. It turns out that there are some pretty nice hills out that direction too, and after hammering it back down the access road of I-10 and expecting more flat-ish terrain, it's a nasty surprise. But never mind, just keep on pushing because you don't have to run afterwards. I raced back into the lake, and as we approached the last half mile, I saw the relay rider...and he was sitting up and slowing down. What? Who does that? I flew past him, screamed and fist pumped like Mark Cavendish winning a sprint finish, and hustled into transition. I think I probably looked like an enormous fool, but it was sooo much fun. I never saw the relay cyclist who was in first place, but I was happy with my time - an 18 mph average! My fastest ever out in Boerne.

After I handed off the chip to Orissa, it took some time for me to collect myself and I barely had the energy to walk to rack my bike. "I'm not running," I told Shelly, Brian and Linda. Brian and I took a dip in the lake and cooled off. Then it was up to the top of the reservoir to cheer Orissa in.

Orissa crushed her run in the ridiculous heat on a course with no shade. She outran the relay runner behind her and put us in 3rd place by 40 seconds. Yahoo! I could tell that she was totally spent just like I had been. AND! She achieved her goal of a sub-9 pace. I poured water over her head and we all screamed excitedly at each other about what a great day it had been. Orissa dipped in the lake and then we went to eat some delicious barbecue. They even served beer!

I found the relay cyclist that I had been chasing and thanked him for motivating me to ride faster. He laughed and said he somehow could tell I wasn't joking when I said I was coming for him. It turns out that their team won first place in the relay division because their runner ran a 35 minute 10K. Amazing!

The girls and I agreed that being beaten by a relay team of 3 male Marines was not too shabby. The second place team ahead of us was quick and strong too. We were proud to be the only all-female team. And then when the awards ceremony came around, it was even more fun to be recognized as the only 4-man relay team, with Shelly's little cantaloupe joining her on the swim.

What a fun day! If you haven't done one before, you should try it. If for no other reason than to just smash yourself on the bike and see what you can do when you don't have to save yourself to run. It was a fantastic day out at the lake with great friends at a great race. I would definitely do this again - we don't even need to have a baby along for the ride as an excuse!

Buffalo Springs Lake Triathlon 2013 Race Report

The Buffalo Springs 70.3 is considered one of the most difficult courses on the half-Ironman circuit, and it's right here in Lubbock, TX, about 6 hours from San Antonio. Last year, when I was unexpectedly offered a discounted entry fee as part of a tri club, I thought, why not try an epic race and see what happens? Well, I had an amazing day in 2012 and even achieved a new half-Ironman personal record time of 6 hours, 13 minutes. So this year, when Dawn and I met after Ironman Texas to decide "what's next," I jumped at the chance to do it again, at Coachie's suggestion. (It's only 6 weeks after IMTX? Can I really do it? "Sure, you have a ton of fitness in you and you had a huge taper for IMTX due to injury and illness. Of course you can! Just think of Ironman Texas as your last long training day for this race." Okay, Coachie.) Bonus: Dawn was also planning on racing Buffalo Springs.

The course is tough because you battle hills, heat, and wind on the bike and the run. The swim and transition area are at the bottom of a (beautiful!) canyon, so the first few hundred meters of the bike course are up a huge hill, climbing out of the canyon. There are a couple of big hills out on the bike course, and because it's always windy in Lubbock and the course is made up of 2 out and backs (imagine one of those pointy barbecue forks with 2 prongs), you ride in all different directions, so you get headwind, crosswind, and tailwind at all different times. The run has 3 long, steep hills spaced pretty evenly through the course, and even has its own "energy lab" section, named after a particularly difficult stretch of the Ironman Kona marathon course that is completely unprotected from the sun and the wind. And it's Lubbock at the end of June, so the temperatures are usually in the 100s.

An added bonus for this race is that we have some good friends who live in Lubbock, so we made plans to get together with them after the race. Robert and I drove up Saturday morning for the Sunday race, with a plan to arrive in time for packet pickup and a warm-up ride and run. Everything went as planned and we arrived in Lubbock around 2 pm on Saturday. In and out of packet pickup/expo, and we headed out to the lake to make sure we could remember how to get there. It had been raining in Lubbock (weird!) and it was freakishly humid outside. The roads were wet and full of puddles. As we parked the car at the lake (trying not to get it stuck in the mud) to get my bike out for a practice ride, Coachie called. Don't do your warm-up stuff, she cautioned. It's too hot and humid. Get to your hotel and rest! She didn't have to tell me twice. I felt sick. Humidity! Just like Ironman Texas. This is not going to be good. I was counting on a "dry heat," which I typically handle far better than humidity.

Pre-race Smash shenanigans with Coachie and Alan.

At 4:15 on race morning, I woke up and checked the weather. Cool temperatures but raining. ARGH. Looked on Facebook and secretly hoped to see a post from the race director offering apologies that the race was cancelled. Nope. Fine then. At the lake, the parking situation was not good due to the rain/mud, so Robert dropped me off at the transition area and drove to find another place to set up to take photos.

Alone for the first time ever before a race, I felt sick and nervous as I wheeled my bike down the hill into transition to get set up. My goals for the race were to be brave (i.e., stay in my aerobars) on the bike, and to PR the run. How could I make the first goal with wet roads and hills? The forecast said that the rain was passing through and would stop by the time the race started. But the roads might still be wet, I whined to myself.

Everything went smoothly and very quickly. I socialized with some friends from home, Kelly, Bob, and Roland. I saw Dawn briefly. And then, before I could blink an eye, it was time to race! We lined up for the beach start and watched the pros go. Two more age groups and then my wave was off. Started my watch, ran into the water with all the women 44 and under, and started swimming. There was less contact than last year because the women were split into 2 waves instead of one, but the sun was out and was directly in our eyes. I sighted off the silhouettes of the swimmers in front of me and prayed they were going in the right direction.

Gorgeous sunrise; yes, this really is Lubbock.

As usual, I couldn't tell how I was doing on the 1.2-mile swim. I felt like I was breathing hard, so I was probably "racing," but I couldn't be sure. Once we turned away from the sun, I sighted the buoy line and passed people from waves ahead of me, which gave me confidence. My new sleeveless wetsuit felt good. And before I knew it, I passed the final turn buoy and was hauled up out of the water by 2 energetic volunteers. Had my wetsuit stripped off and looked at my watch. 32 minutes - I screamed with joy. Are you kidding me?! That's a swim PR by like 3 minutes. I was over the moon, but also trying to figure out if my watch had somehow malfunctioned. (I'm pretty sure the swim was short. After the race, everyone was talking about record times.)

Up the big hill on my bike and out onto the 56-mile course. Saw Robert at the bottom of the first big hill and screamed incoherently at him - it was so great to see him. Rode up the next big hill and settled in. I was actually talking to myself out loud, "That swim time, ridiculous! No way! Ok, forget the swim. Settle down. Focus." My heart rate was high (168) - focus on getting that to come down. Get some nutrition in. It's funny - when I have a bad swim, it affects at least the first few miles of the bike and I have to force myself to get over it. I didn't expect the same thing to happen with a good swim. It took some serious self-talk to get myself to focus on the task at hand.

No need to fake this smile. 

After the first few miles inside the park, we got out onto the farm roads and I was flying on the bike course. Over 20 mph and passing people. The roads were dry, for the most part, except for a few deep puddles that filled the whole road, that I went through praying that there were no potholes hidden underneath. I got down into my aerobars and stayed there. The first hour of the bike flew by. Throughout the ride, I watched the average speed on my Garmin fluctuate between 17.8 and 19 mph. I really wanted to ride faster than last year, and to do that, the average had to stay above 17.8. Saw Coachie and Carlos out there on an out-and-back, and they shouted encouragement. Then the wind picked up (or, we had a tailwind for the first part of the ride. I'm not sure which). For a good 45 minute stretch, it was tough and I was struggling to go 15+ mph. Kelly and Roland passed me and I started to get discouraged. Come on Kris, you're a better cyclist than this. Stay with them. But I couldn't. And I kept thinking about the massive headwind that we had last year for the last 10 miles of the bike, and knew I wouldn't get a bike time better than last year - impossible. Kris! Focus. Stay in the moment.

And then, as I turned for that final stretch, I realized that the wind pattern was the exact opposite of last year. Tailwind! Woo hoo! The final 10 miles were a blur and I went screaming down the road at 25 mph. Even the headwind that I had to fight going back into the park couldn't bring the average back down, and I ended up with a bike split 4 minutes faster than last year.

On the way back into the park.

Seeing Robert and Tony cheering at the park entrance was a huge boost, too. I screamed at them about how great I was feeling. The run course went out past the park entrance in the opposite direction of the bike route, and I knew that they would be expecting me soon on the run. I think that made me move a little quicker. I hustled through T2 and headed out onto the run course. The first 3 miles of the run inside the park were a blur. I felt like I was on familiar ground - I remembered the course well from last year and particularly remembered enjoying watching the pros come in on the the first 3 miles of the out-and-back course. So inspiring to see them racing by to win when I still had 13.1 miles to run. They are so unbelievably fast...in fact, Greg Bennett, the winner, posted a new course record of 3:48!

I saw Robert on the way down the second hill near mile 4, and yelled joyfully at him. Throughout the run, I ran steadily and never stopped to walk, not even on the hills. I actually felt great the whole time. There were a couple of times in the last 3 miles that I felt my calves and shins wanting to cramp, but each time, the feeling passed. The entire time, I just kept watching my watch and calculating what I needed to do to get under 6 hours. I had this goal in mind and planned to achieve it by running 20 minutes faster than last year - well, now I had some padding with faster times than I'd counted on for the bike and the swim, so I didn't have to. Which is good, because I didn't. With a 2:13 split for the half marathon, I was only 8 minutes faster on the run than last year. But I will take that, because I know I was moving as fast as I could the entire time.

Ok, maybe I didn't feel awesome the whole time. Trying to fake it here.

I knew that I was going to make my goal of a sub-6 hour race, and as I approached the final half mile, I started to get really emotional. I needed to do well at this race. After spending a year and a half preparing for Ironman, then DNFing in November at Arizona, and then coming up way short of my time goal at Ironman Texas, I needed that feeling of racing. I needed the confidence and pride that it brings. I didn't race at Ironman Texas; I survived it. I raced Buffalo Springs and I'm so proud.

I was feeling all of this as I ran down the final stretch, and I started to cry - an ugly, hyperventilating, dry heaving, sobbing cry that left spectators looking somewhat horrified and Robert, who I passed without a word, looking concerned. And then I crossed the finish line with a time of 5:57 and ran straight into the arms of Dawn, who was there waiting for me (she had finished nearly an hour earlier, in first place in her division) and I started weeping and she was hugging me screaming at me about how f-ing proud she was. Such a cool, ridiculous, overwhelming moment, and I was just thinking and probably yelling out loud, "I LOVE THIS SPORT!" I really do. I am totally, completely in love with the sport of triathlon. And I know now that the 70.3 distance is my soulmate!

Here I am with proud Coachie. Sniffle.

We packed up pretty quickly after the race and headed back to the hotel to clean up. Went to have some lunch with Dawn and then the plan was to go to the awards ceremony and then Robert and I would head to Tony's house for dinner. It would be cool to see Dawn get her award for first place in her age group - how awesome is that!? But I had another reason for wanting to attend - the top finishers in each division get offered a spot at the 70.3 championship race in Las Vegas, and if they don't want the slot, it rolls down to the next person in that age group, and then the next person, until someone claims it. You have to be present to get it. There was a very slight chance that I could claim one of these spots if it rolled down far enough. I can't imagine anything cooler than racing in Las Vegas with all the pros and the best athletes in the sport. I had finished 17th in my age group, so it was a very outside chance.

To make a long story short, I didn't get a Vegas slot. It was pretty cool to watch it happen though. They went through the awards, one age group at a time, starting with the oldest age groups first. As each set of athletes came up to claim their awards (a buffalo statue and a bottle of wine for the top 5 finishers), the announcer called the names of the winners, pictures were taken, and everyone clapped politely. Then he asked the important question of the first place finisher - do you want to go to Vegas? This is when everyone listened a little closer. If they said yes, the crowd clapped politely. If they said no, the announcer asked the second-place person, and so on. And everyone listened intently to see what each person would say.

Coachie on the far left - 1st place AG!

In most cases, the first and second place athletes declined the slots, usually stating that they had already qualified at a previous race. Once everyone on the podium had been asked if they were interested, the slot would roll down in that age group. They brought up a projection of the finishers in the age group and just started reading down the list of names until someone in the audience yelled out "YES!" Most of the slots were claimed by someone in the top 5 athletes. A few age groups rolled down, though. In my age group, the second Vegas slot rolled down to maybe 8th place. In the male 35-39 age group, because there were more competitors in the group, there were more Vegas slots available, and the last one rolled down beyond 25th place. It really is about the luck of the draw!

The whole weekend was pretty awesome. Instead of epic weather, we got beautiful, unseasonably cool temperatures to race in. It was great to be there to see Dawn standing on the podium in first place at the awards. I loved chatting with nervous new triathletes at the start line, socializing with friends before and after the race, and making new friends out on the race course (hmm, I suppose I lost focus for a few minutes on the run after all). I really loved seeing Robert so many times out on the course, and it was so cool that Tony came out to cheer too and to learn a little bit about the sport from Robert. I enjoyed and appreciated the words of encouragement from other competitors out on the course, and the energy and joy coming from spectators and volunteers. There's something really special about the triathlon community, and I'm so grateful to be a part of it. All in all a great weekend of racing!

Castroville Time Trial "Race Report"

"Race report" is in quotes because Coachie sent me and a couple other kids (Alan and Jeff) out to do this 40k time trial not as a race, but as a benchmark for training for the rest of the summer. "You're not racing," she said, "it's just a hard effort." So I should ride as fast as I can for 25ish miles. "Yes." How is this not racing?? I don't know, but whatever. This was my first bike race - that is, a race where I ride my bike without swimming first or running after.

At Coachie's direction, Robert and I parked at Rio Medina and then, to warm up, we rode 6ish miles to the start, which is at the Iron Haus gym just outside of Castroville. The race is an out-and-back course from Castroville to about 6 miles past Rio Medina, and then you turn around and head back. For the most part, it's flat with a bunch of turns. I ride this road a lot in training, and it's always super windy. Today was no exception. The tell-tale flags were standing straight out. This means that there would be a tailwind on the way out and a headwind on the way back.

Robert and I saw Coachie on the way to Castroville (she rode from her house!) and rode in with her. We had preregistered for the event and we walked inside the gym to get set up to race. This race was sooooo not like a triathlon. It started at 8 am, with riders starting every minute. We arrived at 8 am (not 2+ hours early to set up in a transition area). We were given our start times (9:00 and 9:01 for Coachie and me, the times were given based on when you arrived) and a little number to pin on. That's it. No bodymarking, no stickers for your bike or helmet. No timing chip. No commemorative T-shirt.

The state time trial race is at the end of June, so apparently a lot of people were out racing today to practice for it. There were 70 or so riders altogether. Lots of disc wheels, aero helmets, skinsuits, and aerodynamic shoe booties. One thing is for sure - nobody shows up at a 40k tt to check it off their bucket list. This was not like your local 5K, triathlon, or even Ironman, where there's always a ton of people who are just there to finish. Everyone here was serious. They were all set up in the parking lot warming up on their trainers, or riding back and forth on the road.

Since we had a whole hour before our start time, we rolled over to the gas station in Castroville to get a snack. Coachie wouldn't let me have any donuts but she did let us take our photo in front of Haby's.

We ate our snack (peanut butter Snickers for me!), rode back to the start and got ready to ride. I was worried about rolling down off a ramp or having someone holding onto my bike and counting me down Tour de France style, but I didn't need to be concerned. The start line was a couple of cones next to a clock. One guy stood there yelling out people's numbers and sending them off one at a time. He offered to hold my bike for me and let me clip in to get started, but I declined. I was afraid I'd topple over in front of all these roadies.

When my turn came I was literally shaking with fear. Took off tentatively and couldn't clip in. Got down in my aerobars and let the tailwind carry me. My heart rate immediately shot up to the 170s, which is ridiculous for me. I was concerned but couldn't get it to go down. Kept on riding, got passed by Jeff after about 4 miles, kept on riding. Ok, don't let Alan pass you. The first 10k went by and it was fine. Kept on riding. Started to get tired in the places that I usually get tired, the long straightaways that have a beastly crosswind. Started to worry about what the way back would feel like. Reached the turnaround (a single cone set up in the middle of the road, with Jimmy Britton standing there with a flag yelling "turn around!") and I turned around.

This is when the headwind smacked me in the face and my 22 mph turned into 15. Argh. Oh well, keep fighting and try to stay over 20 mph average for the ride. I watched my average speed creep down as my heart rate went up...by the end of the race it was 183 (seriously, I didn't think it was possible to reach that on my bike; I can barely hit that while running hill repeats), I felt like throwing up, my feet were hurting and I was watching my garmin like a hawk, willing it to say 24 miles. When it finally did, a peloton went by in the other direction shouting encouragement and saying "you're almost there!" I made a final push for the finish line (another couple of cones) and then kept riding after I passed it because I couldn't stop. Everything was shaking. I have never, ever worked so hard on my bike. It was awesome!

We stood around for a few minutes to get our results; I'm pretty sure I was dead last of the 6 or so women who raced today, with a time of 1:16:23, that's 19.5ish mph. Not too bad. But next time I want to go faster, of course! Loved the new experience, loved sharing it with Robert, who had his own adventure riding off to La Coste with a group while I was racing. Loved the simplicity of this really well-run event. I loved it so much that I asked Coachie if I can do it again in two weeks, and she said yes. Woo hoo!

Ironman Texas 2013 Race Report (or, How I Survived 14+ Hours on the Surface of the Sun)

I'm an Ironman! I've waited a year and a half to say that, and now that it's true, it's still hard to believe. Even though I wanted it so badly, I didn't know how much it would mean to achieve this goal. People say that once you've done an Ironman, you can do anything. Whenever I heard this in the past, I would nod solemnly while secretly thinking, "Oh you are so full of crap." I understand it now. It's not that there's something magical about completing a 140.6 mile race, and all of a sudden you're Superman. It's that somewhere along the way through the long hours of the race day (up to 17 hours), you have to battle your own fears and doubts. You have to choose to keep moving forward when everything in you is telling you to quit or at least to slow down. By reaching the finish line - by fighting yourself and winning - that's how you end up feeling invincible. My day at Ironman Texas was all about fighting my own fears.

Here's the report and I'm not even going to attempt a short version.

Robert and I arrived in Houston on Thursday. This weekend's wolfpack included Aixa, Linda, Jenny, and myself. We went to packet pickup together, got interviewed for the Ironman youtube channel together, dressed alike, attended the welcome dinner, and generally had a silly giggly time together in matchy matchy clothes. Thursday was a blast. The weather was cool and overcast and it felt "ok" outside. My biggest fear (I thought) was the weather. We've had an unreasonably cool spring in San Antonio and there's been no time to acclimate to heat. The forecast for race day was for 90 degrees, high humidity (standard in the Woodlands) and 15 mph winds from the south.

Matchy Matchy in Lululemon store, dressed in Lululemon. Jenny, Aixa, Linda and I.

Friday was the practice swim and bike check in. There had been a lot of anticipation about whether the race would be wetsuit legal (if the water temperature is above 76.1, you can wear a wetsuit but have to start 10 minutes late and are ineligible for awards). I wasn't planning to win any awards, but I wanted to follow the rules anyway. Assuming the water was going to heat up, we practiced without wetsuits, which turned out to be a good call because the water ended up being too warm to be wetsuit legal on race day. The water was brown and murky, just like Boerne Lake. I practiced treading water and determined that it was possible to do so without a wetsuit. A little bit of fear melted away.

When we went to check our bikes in at about 2 pm, the clouds in the sky dissolved and the sun beat down on us. As the sweat dripped off our faces just standing in the shade of a tree, I wondered how race day would go. Be careful, the Slowtwitch forum advised, this race is going to be a scorcher. Slow down. Stay within yourself.

On race day, Robert and I woke up at 3:45 am, picked up Aixa and headed to the bike transition to drop off bottles of nutrition and get the bikes ready. We arrived at 4:30 and hustled into transition, got everything taken care of, and started the 1-mile walk to the swim start. The humidity was oppressive; I think the day started at 76 degrees and 100% humidity, and I could certainly feel it.

Aixa, Jenny, Linda and I got body marked and ready to swim. Our awesome spectators arrived at the swim start: Shelly and Patrick, Brian and Orissa, Herb, Heather...it was so great to have them all there to cheer for us. Sooner than expected, it was 6:45 and the announcer started herding us into the water. I didn't have much time to think. I felt one strong wave of nerves wash over me as I gave Shelly an emotional hug before getting the day started. Kissed Robert and walked to the water's edge in my new-to-me speed suit (from Hillary - this makes it lucky and invincible) and lucky pink goggles from camp.

The Swim (1:28:59)

The washing machine and spectators lining the bridge and both sides of the lake.

After about 15 minutes of treading water, the cannon went off. I was pleasantly surprised that there was way less contact on this swim than in Arizona. I had a few sketchy moments but none of the pummeling of Tempe Town Lake. The swim course was out and back, and then a right turn into a canal. We had been warned about the crowds in the canal, and I was scared about getting into too much contact there or being squashed against one of the walls. Although it was difficult to sight along the buoy line, I swam without incident, and eventually reached the canal. It was fine! There was hardly anyone around at all. Because of this, I thought, I've either crushed this swim or I'm way behind. But I always refuse to look at my watch until I run out of the water. As my feet touched the steps and I hauled myself up, I looked at my watch and shouted out my first F-bomb of the day - 1:28. A full 10 minutes slower than Ironman Arizona and 20 minutes off my goal time. Uggggh. None of the euphoria of a first-timer finishing the swim this time - I was just mad that my time was so far off the goal.

T1 (8:31)
I needed to shake off the disappointment about my swim and get the race started. The bike is my strength; use it! I ran through T1, grabbed my bag, and hustled into the changing tent. Opened the bag and my heart sank. I had picked up the wrong bag. Dropped a second F-bomb and ran back to the bags, grabbed the right one, and ran all the way back to the tent. Let's try this again. A volunteer dumped all my stuff out onto the ground and I got ready to ride. Coolwings, chamois cream, socks, shoes, gloves, helmet, glasses. Spare tube into my pocket and I was out the door and running for my bike. Grabbed my bike, ran for the bike mount line, got stuck behind another woman who couldn't get on her bike, heard Coachie screaming at me to get on my bike and ride, and finally got on my bike and started riding. Frustration.

The Bike (6:44:17)

The first of many faked smiles. But how cute is that outfit.

Surely this comedy of errors was now behind me and I could get focused on the day. But with the first pedal stroke, I felt the tightening in my adductor. Oh my God, this is going to be a long day if it's already hurting. I sat up to try to let it warm up a bit. After about 20 miles, it finally warmed up and I felt good. I felt generally sluggish, but good.

Then I tried to get down in my aerobars and ride, and I just couldn't do it. With all the people around me, passing me, being passed by me...I was so afraid that one of them would bump into me and end my day that no matter what I tried I couldn't get into my aerobars. I decided that I had about 5 more hours to figure it out, and just kept sitting up, riding, moving forward. I knew I was behind because of the swim, I was off my predicted pace for the bike, and I was just going to survive this day and maybe get lucky and have a good pace on the run. The attitude stayed positive.

And then I got stung by a red wasp. WHAT THE F. It bounced off my helmet, landed on my inner thigh right at the line of my shorts, and stung me. If you know me at all, you know I have a deathly fear of bees/flying stinging insects in general, and I've never been stung by one. I thought, what if I'm allergic? Ouch that hurts! Just keep riding. And then I was proud of myself for not crashing my bike, because a couple of weeks ago I had a bee land on my arm and I almost took Robert and myself out trying to wave it off. To not wig out and start crying was a huge mark in the plus column for me at this point in the race.

The next 30 miles were uneventful. Drink every 10 minutes. Take a water at the aid station, pour it on yourself. Take another bottle to drink for the next 10 miles until the next aid station. The course was smoothly paved with rolling hills, and the sun beat down with not a cloud in the sky. I was alone on the course, unlike at IMAZ where Shelly and I got to leapfrog. I didn't know where any of my friends were, but I assumed they were in front of me. With 3 hours done and at least 3 more hours left to go on the bike, I felt lonely.

At 60 miles, you could pick up your special needs bag if you wanted to. This is a bag that you've filled with whatever might get you through the rest of the ride. Mine contained a spare tube and CO2 and various foods. I didn't take the bag, but I took the opportunity to stop and eat half of a delicious HEB glazed cake donut that I had smashed in my bento box "just in case." The donut served as a huge pick-me-up and I raced off with a surge of energy that would last 10 miles.

After the 70 mile point, things started to really break down on the course. We were fighting a headwind. People were hot and they were starting to pull off to the side, remove their helmets, and lay down in the grass. At aid stations, they came to a complete stop, clustering around the volunteers and just standing there pouring water on themselves. I joined in - why not. My bike split was going to be so much longer than I expected it to be, why not try to stay cool? And that's how the rest of the ride went. Every 10 miles, stop, get water, drink, keep going. I never got into the aerobars unless there was nobody around me (or there was a photographer nearby). At about 90 miles, I stopped again to eat the other half of my amazing donut. And then finally, blissfully, there were only 10 miles left. Six hours had already gone by; I had been planning to finish the entire bike leg in 6 hours. I counted down the final miles, took energy from the cheering spectators, and rolled into transition.

T2 (8:03)

That's some slow, sad walking.

I said it would be a victory to make it to T2, and it was. But I was in a bad headspace thinking, Oh my God I have to run a marathon now. What if my hammy/adductor starts to hurt. This is such a long day already. It's so hot. At this point, according to reports, the heat index was 100 degrees. The wind that had pummeled us on the bike course would now be a blessing.

Robert was yelling at me from outside the transition "Go Baby!" and I yelled back, "It's HOT! This is what suffering looks like!" as I walked slowly to the run bags, trying to take off my helmet with fingers that didn't work. "It's not called EASYMAN," he teased me. I yelled "I love you," he replied the same, and I walked into the changing tent.

The volunteers were great. They refilled a bike bottle that I had brought in with me with water, helped me to change my socks and shoes and remove my coolwings, and I was off on the run course.

The Run (5:56:27)

Finally feeling happy(er) after 10 hours of racing.

I forced myself to try be happy to be on the flat, 3-loop run course that weaved through wooded trails, along the Waterway (which is similar to the Riverwalk) past the swim start and along the lake, and through a bunch of fabulous neighborhoods. After 6 months of crying that I didn't get to do it in Arizona, I was supposed to be happy about this. And then somehow, I actually was happy about it! I was smiling and running and enjoying myself for the first time in 8+ hours. I ran really slowly, about 12:30 miles, but I didn't even care. I was moving, nothing hurt, and the only thing that was wrong was that I was tired. I had nailed my nutrition on the bike course. I was ready to get this done.

The spectators were loud and energetic and covered nearly every inch of the run course. There was never a time that I was alone. Motivational signs lined the course and there were themed cheering sections with music and craziness. It was awesome compared to the bike leg. In the first loop, I saw friends along the course and was informed that Aixa was 20 minutes ahead of me. Ok...my goal is to catch Aixa.

At every mile there was an aid station that had wonderful volunteers who served up gu, water, sports drink, ice, and cold sponges. For the first 12 miles, I kept up with the nutrition plan of gu, water, and sports drink. Ice in both hands and down my shirt cooled me down. And then I couldn't do it anymore. I started trying other things - coke, chicken broth, bananas. The bananas helped me feel better, but I was worried that I wasn't getting enough salt. Then I felt the urge to pee. Oh good, I thought, peeing is good. It means you're not dehydrated. The problem is that once I started, I couldn't stop! At every aid station between miles 12 and 23, I stopped to duck into a porta potty. I started to worry about what was happening to me.

Somewhere during that time, I spent a mile or so walking and feeling sorry for myself. Oh man, I think this is the low point that Dawn says is inevitable in every race. Then I forced myself to cut it out. My legs didn't hurt, I was just tired. Samantha McGlone had told us at camp - the best way to end the suffering is to get to the finish line and the fastest way to the finish line is to run, so RUN! Hillary has said that you should never walk unless you have to, unless it's too painful to run. I wasn't in pain, so I ran.

With 3 miles to go, Robert appeared in a spot that I wasn't expecting him. And to my surprise, Mom and Dad were with him. They weren't supposed to be at the race - how cool is that! They were screaming and telling me to keep up the pace, and I did! I kept running until I reached the little out-and-back right before the course split off to the finish line. As I ran down the hill with less than a mile to go, I saw Aixa and Roland walking together. This put more energy into my legs and I ran as fast as I could. I caught up with them right before the finisher's chute. Without slowing, I bellowed, "Come on! Let's run to the finish!" and we ran up the chute into the lights and the noise of the crowd.

I intended to spend enough time in the chute to appreciate this first Ironman finish line. So I told Aixa to slow down, to enjoy it. I high-fived every hand I saw, including Brian and Orissa and Shelly and Patrick! And then I saw Robert and Mom and Dad and I came to a complete stop to give each of them a kiss. "Go on!" they yelled, but I was laughing and didn't care. It was so awesome. Aixa waited for me and then we ran together to the finish line and as we crossed under that iconic blue archway, I heard Mike Reilly yell out those amazing words, "KRISTINA SWANN CORDOVA, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!"

Pure joy.

Someone tried to give me a medal but I said NO, I need to get it from Herb, my Iron Whiner friend who was volunteering at the finish line. The thought of reaching the finish line before his shift ended at 9:30 had carried me through the last hour and a half of the race, and I had made it with 4 minutes to spare. Although I got my medal from another volunteer, I found Herb and hugged him and cried and told him how hard the race was and he just said "I know," because he does know. He helped me through to get my hat and t-shirt and have my picture taken one more time, and then I was handed off to Robert, who hugged me tight and told me how proud he was. Mom and Dad were there and I could see the pride in their faces, which really touched me. Coachie was on the other side of the finish line and I ran to hug her through the fence. She told me she was proud of me and talked about how far I had come, and I asked her "When is the next one!?" which shocked me.

What an amazing day. With a final time of 14:26, I was nearly two and a half hours off my goal time. But I didn't care. I was just so happy to have done it, to have overcome fears, to have fought myself and won. A year and a half of training - worth it. Soooo worth it.

Of course I couldn't have gotten through this without the support of my incredible Iron Sherpa husband Robert; our kids Andre and Julia (who think I'm a professional, no matter how frequently I inform them that this isn't the case); Coachie Dawn Elder, who always believes I can push boundaries that I didn't even know existed; Grand Coachie Hillary Biscay who helped build my confidence so much at camp; the Iron Whiners (it's so incredibly cool that all of the Whiners are now Ironman finishers!!!); Shelly, who has helped me mentally prepare for this race since December and who has listened to every gripe and worry and has set my mind at ease each time; and all my friends and relatives and coworkers who have been cheering for me and rooting for me for a year and a half - THANK YOU.

Sick and Tired

Three weeks ago, I was ready to crush Ironman Texas. Then, I guess all the weeks of training caught up with me and it started to crush me.

Linda and I did our last big weekend of workouts - I think it was a 4 hour ride and then a brick run, which we smashed. And after the workout, that same adductor/hamstring that had been bothering me for weeks (maybe months at this point) reminded me of its presence and I got a little nervous. That didn't stop me from running 20 miles the next day. Halfway through the run, I really started to feel some discomfort, but it's nothing I haven't felt before, so I kept on going. After the run, I could barely lift my foot from the floor and support my weight when taking off my shorts to shower - not a good sign.

Advice from Coachie - "Shut it all down for a week! Swim only! Let this heal!" Fine. I went to get a massage, which helped, and then spent a week just swimming. This would fix everything, right?

Well I guess it might have, except that what happened next, on that last day of the swim-only week, was that I started coughing. This is weird. What's happening? The next morning, a mild fever, more coughing, and I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. Oh, good timing, it's a common cold. I missed the ride that day, and the run the next day, plus two days of work on Monday and Tuesday. The cold lingered for another week. ARGH! This is now two weeks now of barely doing anything, and I'm supposed to crush an Ironman in just three weeks!

Advice from Coachie, Shelly, Robert - "Don't worry. You have plenty of time to get rid of this cold, start feeling better, and then crush the Ironman." I took the necessary days off and then tried an easy run with Shelly on Wednesday. Four little miles at an extremely moderate (aka slow) pace, and I coughed my lungs out afterwards AND limped around for the rest of the day. My leg hurt even lying on the couch that night.

Went to see my regular doctor about the cold (yes, confirmed that it's just a cold. Not anything worse, thank goodness) and then to a sports doctor about the leg (Tim Palomera, Robert's dear friend from high school, who was able to get me in quickly to see what's going on - THANK YOU, TIM!). Tim determined that I have a hamstring strain and that 3x a week of physical therapy and NOT RUNNING UNTIL THE RACE is what I need to do. He said I can still race, so that's the good news.

So now it's two weeks before the race. I have barely done any real workouts in two weeks. I am still fighting off the cold. And I'm panicking more than a little bit.

Advice from everyone I know, including Coachie, Shelly (who was in this exact position last year, and crushed her Ironman), Robert, and the Slowtwitch community (yes, I posted a question on Slowtwitch, that's how panicked I felt)... and everyone says the same thing - "Rest! The race will be fine! The hay is in the barn. You have the fitness. It will be fine."

I just have to believe them. I'd rather be feeling amped up and excited to race right now, instead of being unsure and nervous, but I'm learning to roll with it a little bit more than I'm used to doing. I just keep getting more lessons out of this journey, and I'll accept that this is good for me. May 18 is on it's way and I'll be there on the start line.

The silver lining - I've spent more time with Robert than I've been able to in a long time. We even got to ride an easy 30+ miles to Castroville and back to get a donut, and it was so much fun! Do I wish I was out there running today with the girls? Yes. But spending an entire weekend with my hunny bunny isn't a bad alternative at all.