Training and Racing Is Good for the Heart

I've had a few noteworthy races this spring and I haven't written a single thing about them, so I wasn't surprised when my lovely, well-meaning friend Linda asked, "why haven't you written about the Leadville half yet?"

Here's why. I have these moments of euphoria during training and racing, and I'm even joyfully happy when I'm planning for training and racing. Maybe it's the "runner's high" we all talk about. But the last couple of months, by the time I sit to write down my thoughts after a race, I'm already back in the swamp of emotions that make up my daily life lately. I don't have the energy to write about the things that made me very happy in those moments. So I post up a happy picture and a brief comment about the day and I move along.

There's been a lot of chatter about how the stuff we see on social media isn't real, how everyone's painting a picture of a happy life for themselves and that it's fake and untrue. I've been thinking about this and I would argue that maybe that isn't the case at all.

For example, on Sunday I posted this supremely happy selfie after a bike ride - my first bike ride in nearly a year. I sold my tri bike last year. I lost my inspiration to race. But on Sunday after a really happy conversation with my parents in which my dad and I decided to race the Kerrville tri together this September, I dusted off my road bike, grabbed my very willing and wonderful friend Laura, and hit the trails. Adventure! It was amazing. I was thrilled to be back on the bike, even riding at 12 mph on a little creek path. For our whole little 9 mile ride I was laughing, remembering the freedom that only comes from putting your feet on the pedals and riding down the road to wherever you want to go, physically (and spiritually and emotionally, if you want to get really deep about it).

My picture on Facebook was an expression of pure joy and I meant it.

But, back up five hours. The reason I was on the phone with my parents was so they could help me talk through something I was struggling with, a hard decision I was trying to make with a lot of emotion around it. And yes I am perfectly aware that there are people who are poorer, hungrier, sadder, and more oppressed than me in the world and you could easily throw hashtag "first world problems" on my distress. But I was really struggling that day, having a hard time trying to think through something difficult enough that I needed my parents' help to figure it out.

I don't really want to share details here because it's not necessary, but I will say that most anytime I'm upset these days, you can be sure the root cause is that Trent is in Kansas City and I'm in Denver. Intellectually I know Trent's move out of the state this year is what's best for our future. But sometimes I can't help feeling powerless and sad and out of control of my own life when I'm here and he's there. I'm resentful about it sometimes. I'm sad and angry about it sometimes. Long-distance relationships are hard. This resonates through everything in my life right now and I am struggling a fair amount of the time.

As Mom and Dad talked me down a little bit, I imagined them gathered around their phone on speaker mode in the kitchen at home in Kerrville and I just got terribly homesick. I immediately looked up flights to Texas. Dad had said he was going to race the Kerrville Triathlon this year; I looked for flights around that date and there was one available! I mentioned the race and without missing a beat, Dad said, "yes, come for the race. You should race too." Mom agreed.

Since I was 20-something and Dad suggested running our first 10K together, Mom and Dad know that when I'm in a tough place emotionally I thrive if I have a physical challenge to chase. They're the smartest people in the world to suggest a triathlon to me at this time.

I immediately had three offers of bikes to borrow; I could write a whole separate post about the love and generosity I feel from my beautiful friends and family, both here and there. And just like that, I'm back on the bike, looking for routes around my new neighborhood, excited to race in Texas in the fall.

Triathlon helped me through a rough part of life before, when I was lost and unhappy and trying to find myself. It's going to help me through a different kind of rough time again. Besides the days that I'm with Trent, I've been happiest this year while running and swimming, so adding a bike can only make it better, right? Regardless, I'm happy to have found my way back to it, even if it's just been one little ride and I'm only signed up for one race.

As for social media - well, now you know the other side of my happy Facebook bike pic. Three days later as I write this, I'm not euphorically happy like in that picture, I'm not on the verge of tears like I was on the phone with my parents, I'm back to "normal." All of those things are real, so I'll offer a reminder to be kind and practice compassion daily. You never know what people have going on in their lives, even when they're posting truthfully happy pictures.

Thank you for reading and see you at the races, including (surprisingly) a triathlon for me this year!

The Leadville Heavy Half was a bit of a breakthrough for me. I ran 2 8-minute miles at the end of it and truly felt like I was flying through the chute. It's the first time I was really aware of the progress I'm making in running this year, and it's really exciting.

Part of my joy this year has been escorting my friend Laura along in her running journey. This is us at the Colfax Half Marathon in Denver - her first of four this year plus CIM in December!

I've also been swimming and running my way through the Stroke & Stride series this summer - a 1500m swim and 5K run held on Thursday nights at the Boulder Reservoir. I love this picture because it shows how my form has improved along with my speed. All of this is thanks to my amazing coach Nell Rojas.

Mesa-PHX Marathon Race Report 2019: The Importance of Having a Good Time

The Mesa-PHX Marathon was meant to be a test race on the way to my next attempt to qualify for the Boston Marathon later this year. In September, in the world of Boston qualifying standards, I'll age up. This means I'll need to run a 3:50 or better (8:50 pace) to get a BQ. I planned to sign up for the California International Marathon (CIM), held in in Sacramento in December, when general registration opened in March, but first I'd run this race in Arizona and get a baseline for what my legs could do.

I trained hard for this marathon with many lung-busting track sessions and short fast practice races, more miles per week than I've ever run (even training for Leadville), 3 solid 20 mile long runs and a ton of successful tempo sessions. I hit my paces and heart rate zones on nearly every run. I was prepared. The only thing on my plan that I didn't get to do was a confidence-building half marathon at marathon race pace. I unfortunately picked a half in late January that was held mostly on snow and ice covered trails, and my 8:50 practice pace turned into a shuffle for survival in slippery shoes. Of course hindsight is 20-20 and I'm certain I would have felt more confident in Arizona with a successful practice race under my belt. 

When I signed up for the race in late October, Trent and I planned on a fantastic winter getaway from the arctic tundra of Colorado to warm sunny Arizona where I could run and he could play golf. The reality was that by the time the race rolled around, Trent had just moved to Kansas City for work and wouldn't be able to get away for the weekend. I was carrying around the heaviness of missing him and the uncertainty that comes along with this kind of change. Yes, I know we are only temporarily apart and I should be able to stand up on my own for a little while and be a strong independent woman but in early February I was really struggling with the change.

I looked forward to race weekend because in addition to the wonderful warm weather, my incredible friend Orissa had decided to jump onto this marathon journey and we were going to race together and have a great time! The last time Orissa and I raced a marathon together, we ended up literally racing to the finish line at the Austin marathon and getting breakthrough PRs!

Austin Marathon 2014

We arrived late Thursday and enjoyed ourselves in the day or so leading up to the race, eating Whataburger (Hooray, Whataburger made its way to Tempe!) and accidentally staying in the same (roach) motel that we stayed at a few years ago when we volunteered at Ironman Arizona. Packet pickup was a breeze. We were thrilled to find an early entry coupon code to CIM in our packets, and for the first time in my life, I signed up for the next marathon the day before racing a marathon. We ate and hydrated and went to bed early. This was important because for this point-to-point race, we'd have to be up by 4:30 to catch a bus to the start line.

There were a couple of race-morning issues like late buses and lengthy porta-potty lines, and Orissa and I didn't actually start the race until at least 10 minutes after the gun went off. This was fine because it meant we'd be passing people all day if we did things right. The race started in the desert of Mesa and went downhill into the town. We'd driven the course the day before so we knew what to expect. Basically downhill until 13.1 miles and then flat to the finish line. We had beautiful scenery in the first half of the race to look forward to and then a million turns on city streets for the rest of it.

Orissa's goal pace was different from mine so although we started together, we didn't expect to stay together for long and that was okay. I wore a headlamp even though it wasn't really necessary. I carried my backpack with all the water I'd need for the day and that turned out great. The first few miles were gorgeous with the sun coming up through the Saguaro-covered hills. My music was making me dance and I felt joyful for the first six miles even though my pace was inconsistent and slower that I'd like. 

When 10 miles came around and I was having to work more than necessary to hold the already-too-slow pace, I knew my day was not going to go as I'd hoped. The last 16 miles were harder than they should have been and I was frustrated to see my pace slowing. I couldn't turn over my legs even though my lungs were celebrating the amazing oxygen that lower altitude brings! I was pumping my arms to try to get my legs to move and nothing was happening. I'd passed a bunch of pace groups and when they started to pass me back, I felt defeated. 

The last time Orissa and I raced a marathon together in 2014, I'd gone out too fast and she'd run a conservative pace, which meant at mile 25 she caught up with me. I found a way to race with her to the finish line that day. We both squeaked in at 4:30 which was my fastest marathon by 15 minutes at the time. It was an incredible day! I knew that if she caught me today that I wouldn't be able to run with her. The only thing that kept me running as fast as I could was the fear of Orissa running up behind me and shouting "come on!" like she did 5 years ago.

I finally reached the finish line with a time of 4:25. That's 35 minutes slower than the time I'll need to BQ. Oof.

So relieved to reach the finish line.

A few minutes later, Orissa crossed the finish line, beaming and high fiving everyone. She had a great time. She didn't just meet her goal pace - she had a GREAT TIME - she had fun running the race. And of course there's the lesson for the day: it's not about having a good pace. It's about having a good time - enjoying it! You're always going to do better when you're smiling and having fun, racing with joy instead of heaviness. I know this. I just somehow have to keep relearning it! Thank you Orissa.

Having a great time!

Not having even a little bit of a great time.

When I got home and met with Nell, my amazing coach, she assured me that I'd had a bad day and didn't run to the potential that all my training runs had pointed to. We agreed that the lack of a solid practice race was an issue. She asked me if I felt motivated to train and I said YES OF COURSE and I meant it. Together, we made a plan for CIM that includes running a bunch of shorter faster races to pick up some speed. That 8:50 pace needs to feel easy in December. I have my work cut out for me.

In the last two weeks, as part of that plan, I ran 2 5K races. One happened to be in San Antonio when Trent and I traveled down last weekend to visit family. I was thrilled to get to race with Orissa again, and with Shelly, and we smiled and laughed our way through that race, plus the warmup before the race and the cooldown and tacos afterwards. I'm really excited that both of them are going to be racing in California in December too!

You can tell that this race went better than the marathon, right? Hooray for running with Shelly!

Today I raced a little 5K in Golden and was thrilled to pace myself properly and run my way to 3rd place in my age group. My times are not as fast as they used to be, but the speed is coming back. And maybe more importantly, today I ran at marathon race pace and a fair amount of it felt "easy." Trent's not here this weekend but he encouraged me on the phone before the race and I ran light. Here we go again, moving towards a new normal. I'm excited about December and the journey to get there. Thanks as always for reading, for your encouragement, and for coming along on this journey with me!

I'm all kinds of proud of this age group award from the race today.

Did I mention there was Whataburger in Arizona?

We attended a Sun Devils game in Tempe after the marathon! It was so much fun even though we could barely walk to our seats.

Love racing with these two. I'm California Dreaming already.

I'm a Runner! Finding the New Normal

If you know me - if you’ve read this blog around this time of year on any given year - you know that I’ve struggled forever with “being a runner.” These doubts usually bubble up more frequently around the holidays when I’m training for a marathon in the triathlon “off season.” I push myself in the pool but not when I’m running, I’ve said. If I need to miss a workout, I’ll always miss a swim or a bike over a run, because running is my weakness, I’ve said. Then last fall I decided to try running a 50K and in the months that followed, everything has changed. Just a little less than a year and a half later, I’m training for a winter marathon (as usual) and saying proudly “I am a runner” (not usual at all!).

After my “test race” 50K last September, I decided to take a much-needed break from triathlon to pursue a year of ultrarunning. I signed up for the Silver Rush 50 mile run as my big goal race for the year and was so scared of the goal that it took me several months to even be able to say out loud that I was running it. I was definitely excited to try something new.

To say that I jumped with boundless enthusiasm into a new sport is somewhat true, but it’s not the whole story. After Ironman Boulder last year, Trent’s back, which has always been a problem, refused to let him run anymore. That meant he couldn’t be competitive in triathlons. After being forced to quit running he very quickly lost interest in his bike (although he was certainly celebrating dumping swimming, his least favorite sport). Instead, he turned to golf as his outlet, a sport he’s excelled at in the past. To be honest, I was tired and burned out on triathlon. I was ready for a break. Suddenly, just months after moving to a town 45 minutes away from Boulder, the triathlon capital of the world, both of us had lost interest in triathlon.

This change felt like the end of something. Trent and I had met through triathlon. We’d trained together, raced together, spent countless hours talking about triathlon, dreaming together about what was to come. We’d been on the same triathlon team – Big Sexy Racing – and made friends together through the team and through the sport. I remember a conversation we had early in our relationship. He’d said, “you know I’m not going to be interested in triathlon forever. Are you okay with that?” to which I replied, “you know I’ll be a triathlete for the rest of my life. Are you okay with that?” And we’d both said yes. I expected at some point that Trent would find a different goal to chase, but I didn’t expect the same thing to happen to me. Now what? Trent was spending the Saturdays we used to spend on the bike playing golf instead. Clearly I needed to have my own interests as well.

I think I took this picture during my last bike ride this year. It was fun to roll up on Trent hitting golf balls.

Yes, I jumped enthusiastically into a new sport, but I was also trying to find my way, navigating our new normal. I spent the first half of the year feeling like an impostor, trying to redefine myself as “ultrarunner.” I think it was good for me to find my own way in a new sport without a coach. Without any expectations from anyone. Just being a newbie. But there was definitely something missing.

About halfway through the year, I reached out to Nell, who is coaching me now. “Once I’m done with all this trail running, I’d like to find some speed on the road again,” I told her, “I’ve gotten so slow since I moved here.” She agreed and as promised, after my last ultra of the season was complete in September, we started focusing on speed. I’ve signed up with a few friends for the Phoenix Mesa Marathon on February 9, 2019. My goal is to run a new personal best time and prepare to earn a Boston Qualifying time in 2020.

My training plan started filling up with threshold runs and track workouts. At the Longmont Turkey Trot, a 2-mile run (which Nell won, by the way), I freaked out because I tasted blood at the end of the race. I worried that I’d damaged my lungs. “Does it taste like pennies?” Nell clarified. Yes! “That’s great!” she exclaimed, “it means you really pushed yourself.” She explained a little more and then I went home and looked it up. You guys! I really pushed myself at running! This is a FIRST.

Nell in the middle of her group of athletes after the Longmont Turkey Trot.

As the miles have increased and training paces have been dialed in, I’m thrilled to be feeling motivation and drive that I haven’t felt in a really long time. I’m terrified of the track workout every week, but I’m also determined to get out there and do my best. Can I run 4 miles at threshold pace at the end of a 16 mile run? Yes I can. I’m running faster at a lower heart rate on my easy runs. I’m feeling so strong and recovering quickly. I know that most of this is because of a personalized training plan from a badass coach who believes in me and some of it is because of the massive volume that I put in this summer on the trails. It’s all coming together.

Happiness is nailing a track workout, not knowing until later that there were sweat icicles on my hair!

With each week that passes I’m feeling more confidence, even after an occasional workout doesn’t go as planned, like yesterday’s 20 miler. I’m not taking selfies during my runs anymore because I’m working too hard to pull out my phone. I’m not worrying about my weight like before because I’m more interested in how fast I can move my legs than about an arbitrary number on the scale. Holy cow, look what my body can do.

While training for ultras last year was motivating and interesting in its own way, I’m now relishing moving full-speed towards a goal. I missed this. I love this.

You know I’m always looking for the lesson, so here it is. In the spring I was running away from triathlon, somehow looking to escape from myself. At the time I didn’t realize it, but now I know it was always just a little bit empty. Today, I’m running full throttle towards a huge goal that I care tremendously about. The difference in the experience is enormous. Although it may sound pretty simple, it took me a year to figure it out: running towards something is always better than running away.

“Why are you going to bed so early?” Trent complained lightly the night before a track workout the next morning. “Because I want to win this marathon,” I said. He’s looking forward to the trip to Arizona in February because of all the great golf courses in Phoenix. I think we’re finding the new normal.

SwimRun NC Race Report 2018: A Community of Racers

SwimRun NC in Hanging Rock State Park, North Carolina, was the last race of what seemed like a very long season. It wasn't even on our original schedule - upon learning that it was an Otillo merit race and therefore the last chance this year to collect points for Otillo for next year, Whiting and I signed up at the last minute after we learned that a couple of women's team spots had opened. I'm really glad that circumstances led us to this challenging, gorgeous race.

Since the SwimRun race wasn't on our race calendar, Whiting and I had both registered for the Denver Rock n Roll half marathon the week before, so of course we raced it. Back-to-back weekends of racing had worked well for me last month, but last month I raced the events in the opposite order - SwimRun San Juan Islands one weekend and then the Bear Chase 50k the next, where I had a great day and a PR (I know a report is overdue for that one, but how can I be expected to write reports when I'm racing every weekend?!). Between the half marathon on Sunday and the SwimRun the following week, I flew to Roanoke, VA, for an unexpected work trip and ended up driving 4 hours (through the remnants of Hurricane Willa) to Raleigh-Durham, NC to pick up Whiting who flew in on Friday night. We stayed the night in a weird airport hotel and then drove the next morning to our cabin in Danbury, NC, that we would share with three friends - two who were racing (Kathy and Jeanne) and one super sherpa (Kitty, our Big Sexy Racing teammate).

The cabin crew - Kathy, Jeanne, Kitty, me, and Whiting

You may think after reading a whole paragraph about the week leading up to the race that I'm setting up the excuses for why I had a poor performance on Sunday. In fact, the opposite was true! I felt great; it was one of those perfect race days where everything feels good and effortless and easy. Racing back-to-back weekends seems to work for me and that's something to remember for the future. Unfortunately, this was also the first SwimRun race of the three we've done this year where Whiting had a hard time from the very beginning of the day. At Lake James and at San Juan Islands, we excelled together and struggled together and hit high and low points at the same time. At SwimRun NC, for the first time, our team had to get through a race where we were having completely opposite days.

I'm getting ahead of myself though. This very well organized race had packet pickup and the start/finish line at the same place, a cute little brewery called the Green Heron Ale House nestled in the woods on the shore of the Dan River at the edge of Hanging Rock State Park. Whiting and I did a little 15-minute shakeout run before the pre-race meeting at 4:15 on Saturday and then gathered with our friends to listen to the course description and rules. The crowd at the pre-race meeting was made up of people who were new to the sport and people who had come all the way from Sweden to race (they were easy to spot in their Otillo swag). Triathletes in the crowd stood out in their Ironman gear. When the race directors joked about how no swims would be cancelled here even though the river was swollen and flowing quickly from heavy rains that had just come through - "after all, this is not Ironman" - I was glad not to be wearing any of my Ironman swag!

Let me talk for a moment about swag, because the stuff included at this race was top-notch. In our race packet, along with our very official-Otillo-looking bibs and swim caps, was include a set of personalized cards with well-wishes from elementary students in the area, a really cute hat and T-shirt and a pair of wool socks for each of us, a foldable cup to be used on the course, and probably something else that I'm forgetting. Impressive.

Pre-race meeting

Good-luck cards from local schoolchildren were included in our packets.

Such cute well-wishes from future SwimRunners.

The meeting lasted about an hour and then we headed back to the cabin to eat dinner (prepared beautifully by my very healthy roommates) and get some sleep for the night. The race would start at 8:00 the next morning, so we'd need to be up by 6. At the pre-race meeting the race directors joked about how they didn't want anyone showing up at 6 am at the start line to set up their transition area. One of the many benefits of a sport where you start the race with all the gear that you're going to use for the day!

I'll probably overwhelm you with pictures of the unique, beautiful, and technical course, but I'll describe it too. It went kind of like this, and I'm saying "kind of" because one of the great things about SwimRun is that nothing is precisely measured: 15-16 miles of running broken into 11 segments and 3000 meters of swimming broken into 9 segments. The first 4 miles was uphill through the woods to a lake. Along the way we would climb up steep waterfalls that required ropes to grip to get a foothold. Once teams arrived at the lake, we would swim 500 meters across it and then pop out on the other side, run approximately a quarter of a mile, then plunge back into the lake for less than 25 meters, then shimmy down a slippery mudslide, cross a small stream, run up the other side, and do the whole loop again. Once the two loops were complete, teams would run up 600+ stairs to the top of Moore's Wall and back down the other side, return to the lake, and complete the two loops a second time. Then a 4 mile run back towards the finish line that included another (different) waterfall/rope descent and climb. The last part of the race was an 800 meter swim (float) down the Dan River to the finish line.

We lined up to start the race with approximately 60 male teams and 40 mixed teams and exactly 23 female teams. Whiting and I had a plan to keep ourselves reeled in by running by heart rate in the first part of the race. We'd swim the four 500 meter swims really hard and make up some positions, and then run at threshold pace at the end of the race, leaving nothing for the 800 meter swim because it would be downstream in a rushing river.

As I said earlier, the problems started from the beginning. Whiting's heart rate was too high as we traveled up the first trail, sharing last place with a couple of new friends that we met on the course. The four of us agreed to travel at a pace that would keep Whiting's heart rate in check, and then I think we all expected to crush the first swim that would take place at the end of 4 miles of running/power hiking uphill. In our conversation on the trail, we learned that this other team was also made up of Ironman athletes who are above-average swimmers; Aimee and Kerry were two more women who were looking for a different kind of challenge.

I knew that Whiting was frustrated but I asked her to lead the way to stay at a pace that worked for her and I checked in frequently about her heart rate. It was frustrating not to have the day that we wanted, but we both held hope that it would turn around.

The second waterfall.

 Finally, we reached the first 500 meter swim. Now was the time to crush it! We jogged past the announcer and a well-stocked aid station, past the speakers with booming music, past our lovely BSR teammate Kitty who was injured and therefore supporting instead of racing. We plunged into the lake. At San Juan Islands last month, Whiting had led the way on nearly all of the swims, and I expected her to speed past me again. That was not the case today, so I led, grateful that there were other swimmers in the water and volunteers in canoes to help guide the way across the lake to a little right turn at the other end of the swim. We passed a few teams in the water, which provided a boost.

Kitty with the awesome announcer at the lake!

Disoriented and wobbly at the end of the very cold swim (55 degrees), Whiting and I climbed out onto the shore and made our way through the woods. As we walked (running was impossible, we were staggering like we were drunk from the change in equilibrium), we had a little discussion about how the day was going. I wanted Whiting to know that although the situation was frustrating, that I wasn't frustrated with her - we all have bad days. The chat seemed to make her feel better and we worked as a team moving through the mud, across the tiny swim, through the trees to a tiny technical descent that had turned into a mudslide because of the rain. Back up the other side to the aid station to do the whole loop again.

Hiking with purpose.

At this point, there were other teams around us because we were doing loops. That plus the booming music and cheerful announcer made everything feel very strange. In previous SwimRun events, even if we were running in a contained area, it felt spread out and isolated, quiet and natural. In this one, we were surrounded by people and there was more of a finish-line vibe right in the middle of the race. We later decided that there were pros and cons to the loops at the lake - you could learn the lines to take and feel more like you were in a race by being around other people, but you also knew that you had to plunge into that cold water 4 times and shimmy down the mudslide 4 times without getting hurt. I still haven't decided how I feel about those loops.

After we completed our second loop, we ran/power hiked up the 600+ steps to the top of Moore's Wall. I led the way, pulling Whiting with an imaginary 10 meter tether. We hiked with another team that we met along the trail. When we reached the top, a couple of amazing things happened: we popped out of the woods to see a beautiful view and have our picture taken in front of it, and a million other teams appeared. Apparently we had moved our way into the middle of the pack in the loopy swims, and there were other teams everywhere! This lifted our spirits as we said hello to Jeannie and Kathy and then ran back down to do 2 more loops of the lake. Of course several teams ran by us on the rooty, technical descent that was slippery due to wet fallen leaves, and we made our mental note to "get better" at trail running. I think I can speak for Whiting and say that we felt much better heading back down the other side of the hill.

Top of Moore's Wall

All that was left now was two more loops and then a run that was mostly downhill to the Dan River. We moved as quickly as we could, passing a couple of teams and getting passed by a couple of teams. Running through the trees down to the river felt strange - it was downhill and therefore easy to run, but there were just enough obstacles (roots, rocks, slippery leaves) that I couldn't get into a rhythm. I repeated our mantra of the day out loud to prevent us from tripping, "eyes down, toes up!" I was grateful to finally reach the river with a few trips but no falls. We'd made it! As we approached the river, we spotted Jeanne and Kathy floating down. They were close enough that if we swam hard, we could catch them.

The river was cold (53 degrees!) and it was moving quickly due to the heavy rains, and we plunged in with purpose. Whiting led the way and we pulled hard to gain ground. As we caught Jeanne and Kathy, they flipped onto their backs and we all said hello and chatted and laughed. Then the water became even swifter and Whiting ran into a fallen tree that was wedged in the middle of the river. This sobered us and we swam the rest of the way with caution. Swimming head-up, my torso bumped into a rock that I couldn't see and then I began to worry about what was actually down there below the water. Spectators on the bank directed us through the mini rapids, and soon enough we were crawling out of the water and up the stairs to the finish line in just under 6 hours. What a day!

The river was moving fast!

Last swim-out of the day.

The post-race food was the best I've ever had after a race (pasta and potatoes and barbecue with fixings and banana pudding and sweet tea!), and Whiting and I didn't even wait to change out of our wetsuits to eat it. We finally changed into dry clothes to attend the awards and raffle. As we sat in the warm sun and the podiums were being announced, the final team, our new friends Aimee and Kerry, crossed the finish line and everyone cheered. They had taken it easy and had a great day, and now they're hooked on SwimRun too. It's really fun to be on the podium but there's just so many other ways to have a wonderful day at one of these races.

I'm proud to say that Whiting and I walked away from the day feeling like we'd done many things right. We've learned a lot in one season. We fueled properly and paced properly with the circumstances we were given. We dressed right - we both kept our Zone 3 wetsuits zipped up all day and stayed cool on the runs and warm (enough) on the swims. We stayed blister-free with Ruby's Lube coating our feet inside of our shoes and calf-length wool socks. We communicated and worked as a team and didn't forget to have fun. We didn't come in last place - but we've learned that that's not so bad either. It's okay to have things to work on (trail running skills) as our first year in a new sport comes to a close.

I'm so happy to see so many new SwimRun races popping up in the US. Each one that we've done so far has been a completely unique experience, and I'm looking forward to many more. After each race, we've said "we'll definitely do this one again," and SwimRun NC is no exception. I'm thrilled to race in Casco Bay next summer and elated to be able to throw our names into the Otillo hat. Keep your fingers crossed for us!

A huge highlight was meeting Herbert Krabel in person - he's the biggest advocate for SwimRun in the US and this race is his baby.

*One of the awesome things about SwimRun races is that the amazing photographs are included as part of the race package. The gorgeous professional photos in this post were taken by Brian Fancher and Aaron Palaian.

SwimRun San Juan Islands Race Report 2018: Two Friends on a Perfect Day

Photo by Aaron Palaian

After the third or fourth time this year receiving post-race texts proclaiming "this race was the hardest thing I've ever done," my friends have started to call me on it. But in a year of firsts, I've meant it each time, and a week later after time to reflect, I'm not taking it back about this one. The course and circumstances at SwimRun San Juan Islands made for one of the proudest finish line crossings of my life. It was a rewarding, remarkable experience, and as such, I'm choosing to call this one "Two Friends on a Perfect Day" (thank you Dear Evan Hansen) and not "The One Where We Raced for Cutoffs on the Toughest Terrain Ever and It Was Really Hard."

Whiting and I were excited to sign up for the inaugural edition of this race when it was announced last winter. This was before a summer of chasing cutoff times at trail races, and we didn't think too much about the details of the course, choosing instead to focus on the beauty of the islands of the Pacific Northwest. As race day approached, the race directors frequently reported a few changes in the course, and each time an announcement was made, the course got longer. By race morning, we were aware that in 14 run segments and 13 swim segments, we'd be running 21 miles and swimming 4 on the trails and in the lakes of Moran State Park on Orcas Island, Washington. There would be 6000 feet of gain on the run course and we'd summit two mountains. We began (accurately) describing the race as "the Leadville marathon, with swimming."

Part of the challenge of this race was just getting there. Trent, Whiting and I arrived in Seattle at 3 am on the day before the race due to a flight delay. We slept for a few hours in an airport hotel and then drove two hours to Anacortes where we caught a ferry to Orcas Island. We drove straight to Moran State Park and since we were early for the pre-race meeting, we drove to the summit of Mt. Constitution to see the top of the first huge climb of the course. As Trent drove up and up, Whiting and I became more nervous about the next day, but I was glad to be able to see where we'd be going. 

Trent in the clouds at the top of Mt. Constitution

Then we headed back down to Camp Moran for packet pickup and the pre-race meeting at 4 pm, where the 150 teams in the long course and short(er) course races listened carefully to instructions about the next day's events. There was an anxious feeling in the room, I think because everyone was aware of how difficult the course would be. After the meeting we found our way to the cute seaside cabin we'd rented for the weekend and headed into town for a quick bite to eat. Laid out all our stuff for the next morning and got to bed fairly early. 

Pre-race meeting (photo by Aaron Palaian)

A view from the beach at our condo. One of those islands is Canadian!

It took some calculating to write accurate information on our paddles to guide us through the day. We included the distances of each swim and run leg and where we expected the aid stations and time cutoffs to be.

The race started at 7:15 on Sunday morning with calm conditions. The air temperatures were in the 50s and the water temperatures in the mountain lakes were in the 60s. There was one segment of swimming in the bay, which was 52 degrees. 

Whiting and I were thrilled to meet Lance Armstrong before the race. He and his teammate, Simon Whitfield (Olympic gold medalist triathlete) were racing too, which added some excitement to the day!

When the gun went off, we ran across a field and up a dirt road onto some singletrack trail, and as usual, Whiting and I found ourselves in last place. This isn't a bad place to be; based on our prior experience at SwimRun Lake James in April, we expected to move through the field throughout the day. I sensed a single set of footsteps behind me and wondered why one of the participants in the individual division was running behind us. Paul the Sweeper then introduced himself, and I laughed, told him our names, and announced that he should expect to spend most of the day with us.

There were about 10 miles of running, 2000 meters of swimming, and 2000 feet of elevation gain between Whiting and I and the first time cutoff at the top of Mt. Constitution at 11:15 am. Based on our experience in Leadville, we knew this would be tight, so we were racing from the very beginning of this race. We did take some time to marvel at the enormous trees on the Old Growth trail and delighted in the clear, cool water of the first big swim. Whiting took the lead on the first swim and that's how it went all day, except for the one swim in the bay where jellyfish caused me to practically run across the water in fear.

We had a little bit of back-and-forth with other teams. They'd run past us and we'd swim past them, as we expected. There was a jump off a 15-foot cliff that added some extra excitement. And then we were at the bottom of the climb up Mt. Constitution, making what we thought was good time as we power hiked up. We had a good pace going and expected to meet the time cut. Then, with 1.5 miles left, we reached a sign that said "Mt. Constitution 2 miles." What? We were hiking at a 28:00/mile pace and that would not be fast enough. At that moment, we redefined our meaning of the word "runnable." Neither of us was willing to miss the time cut and end our day early. For 40 minutes we raced up through the forest and joyfully reached the summit with 4 or 5 minutes to spare. 

Refueling at the top of Mt. Constitution.

We were in a huge hurry but definitely took a minute to look around at the amazing surroundings. (photo by Aaron Palaian)

Trent was there waiting with donuts! We refilled our water bottles, took a minute to eat, and then ran back down the other side. A couple of teams passed us and we found ourselves with Paul the Sweeper as company again. And of course, running down a mountain, we were both reminded of how poor our downhill running skills are. I was frustrated to see that we were running down the steep trails slower than we'd run up the other side. And we had to race for the next time cut at 1:15 pm.

After a couple of swims and another mountain summit (Mt. Pickett, with no view), we headed down again and realized that it would be very difficult to make the next cutoff. When we arrived at the Mountain Lake aid station 25 minutes after the cut, the first thing we saw was a sign pointing down to the next section of trail. Behind the stone wall the sign was hanging from was the actual aid station. We made a quick decision to skip the aid station and sneak off down the trail as fast as possible to avoid being cut. There was a scary moment when a woman drove down the road behind us in her car, and we imagined that she was coming to force us to end our day. But she drove by without incident, and we hustled down onto the trail, relieved. (It turns out that they were very generous with time cuts at this inaugural event, but we didn't know that at the time.)

Just incredible scenery. A couple of the tiny islands registered as .05 of a mile on my Garmin. (photo by Aaron Palaian)

We now had 3 hours left until the final cut of the day at the finish line. We had been truly racing for 6 hours and neither of us had much left. The rest of the day was a purposeful slog through the forest, running when we could, and walking when we couldn't. After skipping the aid station at Mountain Lake, we ran out of food and water, and we ended up sharing one last gel and a few small sips of water with another hour and a half left in the race. 

After what seemed like an eternity, we made our way across Cascade Lake for a final swim (with Whiting the rockstar swimmer leading) and ran up the hill to the finish line as the last-place team. We were greeted with cheers and hugs from the race directors, and a bottle of champagne! What a day. We both agreed that it was the hardest thing we've ever done, because of the terrain, elevation gain, and time cut requirements. Then we celebrated with pizza and beer at the coolest post-race celebration I've ever been to, with great food and new friends.

It was only fitting for Paul the Sweeper, who had spent probably 7 hours of our 9 hour day with us, to cross the finish line with us! He'd been taking down all the course signage along the way.

Champagne at the finish line for the Orcas Island version of Leadville's "last ass over the pass."

I'm really proud of this race. Whiting and I spent 9 hours and 4 minutes racing together and digging deep to stay in the race and have the opportunity to cross the finish line. As we compared notes, we realized that we had both gone through a difficult low point at the same time in the last half of the race, but neither of us was willing to talk about it and bring the other down. We worked well together to remember to eat and drink, transition smoothly between swimming and running, keep track of time, and generally keep it together over a long day. That's not easy, especially for two competitive people: Trent said that many of the teams crossed the finish line and then didn't seem interested in talking to each other afterwards. I know how lucky I am to have Whiting as a partner in this adventure!

New friends at the post-race party.

I want to say a big thank you to Trent, who supported not only our team but several others out on the course throughout the day. Donuts at the top of a mountain?! It doesn't get much better than that. Thank you to the folks at SwimRun USA who put on an incredible inaugural event: we can't wait to race your Casco Bay event in Maine next summer! Thanks to our coach, Nell Rojas, who understands our goals and continues to prepare us to meet them. And thank you to Whiting's family who let us have her for her birthday weekend in Washington. A shout out to our Big Sexy Racing sponsors: Ownway Apparel kits and Zone 3 USA wetsuits that kept us comfortable all day, and Ruby's Lube (no blisters at all, y'all). As always, thank you to everyone reading this, and I want every single one of you to get out there and enjoy the experience that is SwimRun!

Leadville Trail 100 Race Report 2018

Three weeks ago today, the sun was beginning to rise over Turquoise Lake and I was a little more than 2 hours into the Leadville Trail 100. My day would officially end about 5 hours later at the third checkpoint. It doesn't normally take me almost a month to write a race report - I usually write them right away when the experience is fresh in my mind - but this one has been difficult to do. I'm not really sure why that is.

Maybe I'm a little bit embarrassed that I only made it 31 miles before missing a cutoff and being pulled from the race. Maybe I'm questioning my decision to start something that I wasn't sure I could finish. Maybe I should have waited another year to use my coin. Or maybe it was just such a big experience that it's difficult to cover in a blog post.

After pacing for Doug last year at Leadville, I was immediately inspired, as many people are, to begin an ultrarunning journey of my own. It's been a really cool and strange year as I've spent the first season in 9 years focused on something other than triathlon. As a beginner at both trail running and ultrarunning, I spent a year learning about a community that I increasingly want to be a part of, while at the same time feeling a bit like an impostor.

Doug! The inspiration and reason we have the "blame a Leary" hashtag

Four months ago I shrieked "Adventure!" and jumped headfirst into the Leadville series at the marathon, and after the first race I realized that this "summer of Leadville" would be more about chasing cutoffs than setting PRs. Subsequently, my mindset as an athlete changed over the last few months - I became more grateful about start lines than determined about finish lines.

That being said, I wouldn't have taken the coin for the Leadville Trail 100 if I didn't think I could actually finish the race. I knew it would take a perfect day for me to get to the finish line in 30 hours, but I did believe that it was possible. If not 100 miles, then I'd definitely be able to make it 50 - to the halfway point - because I had just completed a 50 mile race last month. But then I didn't. What happened? The very simple answer is that I just didn't go fast enough.

The Course
The race is an out-and-back course that starts in Leadville and winds around to the ghost town of Winfield. Along the way, you run on single track and jeep paths, past gorgeous lakes and through the aspens, up and down and finally UP as you climb to just under 13,000 feet over Hope Pass, descend into Winfield, and then turn around and head back to Leadville. There's a stupid amount of elevation gain in this event that starts at 10,200 feet. You get 30 hours to complete the race and earn the finisher's belt buckle. 

Preparing for the Event
Preparation for this race took more than the usual event. Yes, I ran a lot. I ran at altitude and I ran for many hours on many Sundays on terrain that simulated the race course. I practiced hiking up to the top of Hope Pass. But I also had to gather a team to crew for me, and I had to figure out what supplies would be needed for a race that would take 30 hours (or more) to complete.

Dad on top of Hope Pass during our training hike. I'm so disappointed I didn't get to this spot during the race!

At this race, after 50 miles, you can have pacers to run with you, carry your food, keep you company, and help you continue moving forward. I decided on a team made up of a crew chief and 3 pacers. The crew chief would be in charge of all the transitions in the aid stations where my team could help me. She'd be in charge of the schedule of picking up and dropping off pacers at the checkpoints where I'd be expecting them. The pacers would run/hike/walk/shuffle with me in 12-15 mile segments throughout the second half of the race.

I imported a fabulous crew chief and 2 amazing pacers from Texas: Dawn, Shelly, and Aixa, three tough, strong, smart athletes and incredible friends. My final crew member was my masters swim lane-mate Josie. She had run the Heavy Half in June when I ran the marathon in Leadville, and after that race she offered to pace me for the 100 if I got in. I jumped at the chance because she crushed it up Mosquito Pass in June and she's naturally motivating, positive, and inspiring - she'd be great at pacing over the Hope Pass segment.

The five of us had a great time on the Friday before the race, attending the inspiring pre-race meeting, unpacking our supplies at the airbnb, and planning the logistics of the next day. We all went to bed early and I slept well. We were up at 2:30 am to pack up the car and drive to the start line, nearly 30 minutes away, for the start of the race at 4:00.

The crew! Aixa, Shelly, me, Dawn, Josie

Race Day
Standing on the start line in my headlamp in the dark with 750 people was surreal and eerie. Doug and I began the race together, and as the gun went off, I felt lucky to be a part of this iconic event. I looked around and wondered how the people around me would do. I knew that only half of us would finish the whole race.

Trent drove up that morning from Denver to meet us at the 4 am start line.

My plan was to pay attention to my heart rate and to find that pace that feels like you can run all day and then run slightly slower than that. Every time I felt an urge to speed up, I squelched it. This is going to be a long day. You have to be patient. That's one thing about the race that was the same as at an ironman.

Doug ran ahead after about 2 miles. As I trotted alone through the forest, aware that people were running around me and leaving me behind, the enormity of 100 miles began to roll around inside my head. Each time I started to think about it, I pushed it away, willing myself to stay in the present. I took small victories. Every time my watch beeped with the passing of a mile, I congratulated myself for running a faster pace than the pace needed to meet the cutoff for that segment. When I crossed the first timing mat with 15 minutes to spare at mile 13.5 at the Mayqueen station, I raised my arms in victory as if it was a finish line. After the sun came up, I looked around and marveled at the views. As instructed by Doug, when I reached the top of the first climb on Sugarloaf Mountain, I celebrated to myself that I was taking part in the famous Leadville Trail 100. Me, a triathlete in disguise, running in this famous ultra.

And then my feet, in new shoes because I've spent the summer searching for the right trail shoe, began to develop hot spots that I couldn't ignore. As I tried to run down the famous 4-mile Powerline hill, my heart sank as I understood that my descending skills are still not what they should be, and I wished for my hiking poles that I wouldn't be picking up until mile 40. I texted my crew and asked them to bring my mile 40 shoes to the mile 23.5 checkpoint.

I reached the Outward Bound checkpoint with 10 minutes to spare and my panicky crew hurried me in and out with a quick shoe change and a refill of water and food in my pack. It had been raining for about an hour and I finally took the time to put on my raincoat. I had an hour and 20 minutes to make it to the next checkpoint 6 miles away at Half Pipe. If I'd done a little more research, I would have known I needed a bigger time cushion coming into Outward Bound to make it to Half Pipe before the cut. But I hadn't, and as I did the math on the way out of the aid station, I knew I wouldn't make it to Half Pipe in time to make the cutoff.

Running into Outward Bound in the rain

My crew and Doug's - Aixa, Shelly, Dawn, Whiting, Maggie

Hustling through the Outward Bound station

I kept moving forward at my too-slow pace, and when I arrived at Half Pipe 13 minutes too late, there was no fanfare. I took note of the other runners standing around, some of them crying, as I walked up to a volunteer standing in the middle of the path. I asked him, "Is that it, then?" And he said yes, my day was done. I asked if it was ok for me to continue on to Twin Lakes, 8 miles down the road where my crew would be waiting, and he said that would be fine but he'd need to take my chip.

I communicated with my crew what I was going to do, and as my jog down the trail to Twin Lakes turned into a walk, I had plenty of time to think about everything that I'd learned that day. Shelly met me 3 miles up the trail from the town at Twin Lakes and as we walked back together, I joked that at least she got to spend some time on the part of the trail that she was supposed to pace me on later that night. We met the rest of the crew about a mile from Twin Lakes and they cheered me up with hamburgers (right away) and wine (later).

With Shelly, I finally took a few minutes to stop and take a picture of the scenery.

All the love for this crew

Leadville! What a summer! It's almost too enormous to take in, especially the 100. Of course I want to do it again when I'm faster on trails and stronger at climbing and descending. The day after the race, several friends who paced or crewed drove down the mountain from Leadville as inspired as I was last year and I know several of us will be back next year in some capacity. That's my favorite part about Leadville - you can't help but catch the bug. Adventure!

Podcast
My Big Sexy Racing teammate Terry Wilson interviewed me on his podcast about the race. If you want some more details about the day - listen here.

Thank You!
Thank you to Doug who inspired me in the first place and spent a year giving me advice about running trails in the mountains. To Whiting, the incredible Leadville crew chief to Doug and my awesome SwimRun partner, thank you for your relentless positivity and unmatched planning skills. Thank you to Nell Rojas, who agreed to coach me on this journey with only 6 weeks until race day! To my friends who believed in me, in particular Maggie, Linda, and Orissa - thank you for your encouragement throughout this season. To my parents who spent a weekend up in the mountains with me as Dad joined me for a practice hike on Hope Pass, thank you for being supportive of all these adventures that I've chosen to take part in. To my amazing crew, Dawn, Shelly, Aixa, and Josie, thank you for giving up a weekend to travel to Leadville and be such a huge part of this experience. I'm honored that you shared it with me and I'm sorry that you didn't get to do all the the things that we planned on (maybe next time?). Of course a huge thank you to Trent who spent the entire Summer of Leadville up in the mountains as well, even though there were a million other things we could have been doing. And as always, if you're reading this - thank you for your support and encouragement! I can feel it every time I toe the line.