Ironman Boulder Race Report 2017: Pity Party and a Silver Lining

“Surprisingly disappointing” is the phrase I’d use to describe my race at Ironman Boulder. With five years of full distance racing under my belt, I thought I was prepared for anything. As predictably unpredictable as ironman racing can be, I should have known better.

My plan going into the day was the same as always – smile and be patient. Focus on the process. If there’s one thing I’m keenly aware of when racing Ironman, it’s that the way you feel now is not going to be the way you feel in a few minutes, or in an hour: whether you’re feeling good or bad, it will change.

I once saw a video of Andy Potts that stuck with me, where he talked about the power of staying positive. To paraphrase, he said: “If the swim is crappy, who cares? Now it’s time to crush the bike! If the bike isn’t going well, that’s ok; you’re going to do great on the run! The first half of the run isn’t going your way? That’s ok, negative split it! Just stay positive.” What great advice for a long day of racing. I was determined to follow it.

Me and Whiting pre-race, excited to see what the day would bring.

Which is why I wasn’t worried when Trent swam around me 400 meters into the swim. We’ve always joked that no matter the distance of the race, I’ll beat him on the swim by 2 minutes. He was planning to swim on my feet, so when he went around, I was a little surprised, but felt confident that I was pacing my swim well. I felt a little “off,” but I was in Andy Potts mode (meaning that I was staying positive, not that I was winning the swim as he always does!) and I just kept racing my own race. I came out of the water 45 seconds behind Trent. (He’s not going to let me forget about that anytime soon!)

I noticed that I was gasping for breath as I ran out of the water, and I continued to do so for several minutes on the bike. My loud breathing even caused a spectator to tell me, “settle down, it’s a long day,” so I made a concerted effort to chill out. The bike course was three loops of a course I have ridden countless times in practice. I was confident that I’d pace it well. But, I couldn’t push the watts that I normally do in training. I backed off the pace and tried to stay positive – this would turn around! But it didn’t. I never really felt great on the bike, but I didn’t really feel that bad either.

My prairie dog cheerleaders never showed their little faces on race day but I still love them - peep peep!

Winston the famous neighborhood pig was there for 2 out of 3 bike laps, though.

I made some mistakes with nutrition that would cost me later – I had a headache and I figured I was dehydrated, so along with a couple of Motrin, I started drinking lots of water, instead of the Gatorade that I usually pick up at aid stations. By the time I was on my second loop, I was hungry, which is never a good sign. I stopped at Bike Special Needs, which I had previously declared is for emergency purposes only, and grabbed my Snickers and Red Bull that I had stashed there. It was like Ironman Texas 2013 and that damn donut all over again.

Bike Special Needs was a bright spot in my day, because my friend Ariana was there, and she was overflowing with positivity. I remember telling her “My legs have no watts today!” and she said, “That’s nonsense, your legs have ALL THE WATTS!” which made me laugh. Six and a half hours later, I was running through T2, still thinking about Andy Potts. If my swim and bike had been this lackluster, this run was going to be freaking awesome!

Ariana snapped a pic of me stuffing my face with Snickers and Red Bull at Bike Special Needs.

As always, my plan was to ease into the run, but I was so excited to be turning my legs over at a 9:30 pace that it was really hard to hold back. I forced myself to slow down and save some energy for later. Everything was great! Boulder is the home base for our Big Sexy Racing team, and we had a cheering crew out in full force, led by Chris and Erika McDonald themselves. We had tons of teammates out there cheering who had come in from all over the country, including our friends Mike and Jenna who had come up from Brownsville to Sherpa for Trent and me. I loved running past my BSR team members who were cheering so loudly in the first mile. A few minutes later, I recognized famous coach Siri Lindley standing with her bike on the side of the path, and she yelled at me “You are winning the race with that smile!” I was feeling pretty good for about half an hour.

I was not actually happy here, but Jenn made me laugh by overtaking me and snapping some totally posed photos. Those signs on the left...

...one of them was created by our fabulous Sherpa, Jenna!

Then I took my first gu, and everything went downhill. Analyzing the day after the fact, I know that I made the nutrition mistake that pretty much every newbie who is walking on an ironman run course makes. The lack of Gatorade on the bike caused a calorie deficit that I couldn’t dig myself out of, and as soon as I put that first gu in on the run, my stomach couldn’t process it. I started to feel nauseated, so I switched to bananas and water. It didn’t work. The waves of nausea washed over me, and I started to slow down. Finally, I was one of the walking dead. I had more than half a marathon left to do, and I have never felt sick like that in a race before. I’ve had stomach pain on the bike, and I’ve been very uncomfortable, but I haven’t felt sick.

Pity Party 
In 8 ironman starts, this was a new experience for me. I soon learned that none of my “stay positive, mind over matter” techniques work when I’m sick to my stomach. I can run through all kinds of pain, but I couldn’t run through that. I began to wallow in the disappointment that the day never turned around for me. At some point during the first loop of the run, I walked up to a family of spectators with kids holding their hands out for a high five. This has always been magic in the past, and as I approached them, the mom leaned down and said to her daughter, “oh, this one really needs us.” I gave the little girl a high five and then burst into tears of self pity. How could my day be going this badly?

Luckily (?!), I have DNFed an ironman before, and I knew the only thing that would feel worse than this walk would be to not finish the race. So I kept going. I was a jerk the second time I came through the BSR cheering section, where everyone was shouting encouragement until the look on my face silenced them. Trent was there, finished with his race, looking at me with a worried expression on his face and asking me what was wrong. I was so ashamed about walking that I couldn’t even make eye contact. (I’d hear about that later, too.)

Every friend I saw on the course from that point on asked me with concern in their eyes if I was doing okay, and urged me to keep moving to the finish line. Finally, after 14 hours and 5 minutes, it appeared, and Trent was standing there waiting for me just before the chute. I stopped to talk to him and told him how sick I felt and that I needed a break from Ironman. Then I jogged down the chute, gave high fives to the people who were offering them, got my medal, and immediately curled up in the fetal position underneath a space blanket in the grass next to the finish line.

Whiting's hubby, Doug, snapped this pic in the chute. I'm still calling this a daylight finish. ;)

Silver Lining 
Trent and I talked about how Ironman Boulder would be a “hometown” race for us. It was the first ironman race where we’ve been able to sleep in our own bed the night before. We were happy about the idea of training on the course and in the conditions that we’d be racing in, but that’s not what ended up making it a “hometown” race. Of course, as always, it was the people! Of all the folks cheering and providing encouragement, many were from our BSR team and had come in from all over the country. But most were friends that we’ve made here in Denver/Boulder, through the triathlon community. I’m proud that Trent and I have developed relationships and started to build our new tribe here in a place we’ve only lived for a short time. That’s what made it feel like home. And that’s why, two weeks later, I’m filled with a warm fuzzy feeling about it instead of the gnawing disappointment that I expected to feel after a sub-par race. It's not just a silver lining. It's a huge, glorious sunrise!

And Of Course, the Lesson 
Through this experience, I’ve learned that you can’t just pick a race because it’s convenient, and that’s what we did. There has to be some driving desire to do it, whether it’s the location, the terrain, or just the allure of a particular race. That’s not to say I won’t do this race again: the allure next year might be to get redemption on this course. But two weeks later, I’m fairly certain that what I said to Trent in the chute was true - I do need a break from full ironman training. When you find yourself saying regularly in the months leading up to a race, “I can’t wait to get this Ironman over with, so we can do X, Y, Z,” you know you need a break. Although the experience of walking the marathon was unpleasant, it was a great reminder that you have to respect the distance. You must put in the training and passion that’s necessary to turn out a solid result. I need to get that passion back before I consider training for another full distance race. I’m putting this here to keep myself honest.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to training for shorter distances and taking our bikes on the scenic route up every mountain we can find (there’s lots of them here). But first, a spontaneous trip down to Texas this weekend for a joyride around the Buffalo Springs course!

Thank You
As always, thank you for the cheers and support from near and far. I am continually grateful for the friendships I’ve gained through this sport, for the lessons it keeps teaching me, and for being part of a community that makes the world seem small and warm at a time when that’s exactly what we seem to need most. Thank you for reading! xoxo

A little post-race fun touring the Coors Plant in Golden with our awesome Sherpas, Mike and Jenna.

St. George 70.3 2017 Race Report: Happy Place

I honestly don't even know where to start with this race report about St. George 70.3. It certainly won't be "fair and balanced" because I've fallen completely in love with the race. Part of me just wants to post all the gorgeous pictures that I took of the scenery. But...let me give this a try.

Ironman 70.3 St. George is the North American 70.3 Pro Championship. It had the feeling of a championship event: the vibe around the cool little Utah town was similar to that of 70.3 Worlds. In addition to 2500 age groupers racing on Saturday, there was a world class pro field, including two-time Olympic gold medalist Alistair Brownlee, who would be competing in his first Ironman-branded 70.3 event. For weeks leading up to the race, there was huge hype about how Brownlee would do compared to some of the greatest competitors in the sport. I couldn't believe that I'd be there in person for this race!

Trent and I made the 9-hour drive from Denver on Thursday. Neither of us have seen this part of the country before, and the scenic drive passed by very quickly. We arrived in St. George early enough to enjoy a little sunset drive through Snow Canyon, where we would be riding our bikes during the race on Saturday. The landscape is so gorgeous and unique with the enormous red rocks, contrasting green foliage, bright blue sky, and warm desert sand.

A petrified sand dune in Snow Canyon.

On Friday, we did a short shakeout run from the hotel, grabbed some breakfast, and headed over to Athlete Checkin at the town square. Then we drove to Sand Hollow to do a practice swim in the reservoir, ran through our gears, and racked our bikes in T1. Then back to the town square to drop off our run gear bags in T2. Everything went smoothly. The water was cool and inviting at 61 degrees, because the air temperature was an unseasonably warm 96 degrees! The weather was supposed to cool off overnight for race day, so I wasn't too concerned.

Ok, so this sign at the front of the park was a little concerning, although clearly not for our teammate Chad!

Because we registered late, we were racked at the end of the age group bike racks, which happened to be right next to the pros. Here's a pic of Trent next to the spot of one of his favorites, the lovely Maggie Rusch.

Star gazing in transition.

That evening, I received an alarming text message from a friend. The swim waves were being moved up because the weather forecast was for high winds that would increase through the day. They wanted to have people off the bike as early as possible. My heart sank - one week ago on a training ride in Boulder, I was literally crying on my bike because I felt like the strong crosswind was going to blow me into traffic, and I shortened my ride, citing "I'm a wind weenie" on Strava. We went to bed early and I just hoped for the best.

In transition on race morning. I just love racing with this guy. ❤️

Race morning came and it was fun to ride the shuttle bus from the town square to Sand Hollow, and to chat with friends in transition. Before I knew it, it was time for my wave to start. My goal for the swim was to get on some fast feet and stay there. After swimming Masters for months, I am fully aware of the benefit of the draft, and even though I'm uncomfortable being in the middle of the fray, I was determined to do it this time.

I lasted about two minutes in a wonderfully fast pack of splashing arms and feet. Then, I started to feel panicky. I was wearing a new aero top that zipped all the way up to the neck, which I'm not used to. Combined with a tight wetsuit and constricting heart rate strap, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I swam off to the right of the pack, pulled my wetsuit neck down to get some water into my suit, and tried to breathe. This panicky feeling came up several times throughout the swim, and whenever I wasn't trying to compose myself, I was swimming as fast as possible to try to make up for the little breaks I was taking.

That is one of the great reasons to do a practice race before your big event - to figure out things like this. Next time, I'll simply unzip the neck of my kit before the swim. I definitely recommend a sleeved aero suit like the one I wore for St. George - it was comfortable and aerodynamic on the bike, protected me from the sun, and felt cool on the run on a hot day.

After 37+ minutes, the swim was over, and I ran up the boat dock to transition. I didn't have any particular goals or expectations for the bike. It was my first race on a new bike with a fit that isn't perfectly dialed yet. I've been riding up mountains for several months, so I wasn't worried about the ~3000 feet of elevation gain. I was looking forward to riding through Snow Canyon, a 4-mile climb that began around mile 40. As I rolled out of transition and out onto the road, the wind was picking up, but I wasn't scared like I thought I would be. Instead, I was uncontrollably smiling, enjoying the race, enjoying the ride! The scenery was ridiculous. At one point we were riding towards this huge mountain, with breathtaking desert landscape on either side.

Absolutely loved my first race with my new bike.

There's a section of the bike course, around mile 30, where it's parallel to the run course. I saw Alistair Brownlee at about mile 4 of his run, winning the race. He was running so fast and effortlessly up the enormous hill that I was descending. Moments later, I saw Lionel Sanders giving chase, and then more pros. How cool is that? Even being so enamored with the pro race, I couldn't help thinking about how hard it would be for me to run up that hill later.

After many rolling hills, twists, and turns, we finally rode into Snow Canyon. I exclaimed to a cyclist nearby, "isn't this beautiful!?" and he agreed. I was happy to find that the steady 4-mile climb wasn't too difficult, just spin spin spin. I did pass by some folks who were walking their bikes up the hill. I wondered if they would really keep walking for the 4 miles up the canyon to the main road.

This is a place where I think that your mindset is the most important thing. I made a point of looking forward to the scenery in Snow Canyon, rather than allowing myself to get intimidated by the climb. I was not disappointed!

Snow Canyon. No picture can do this place justice!

Once you exit the top of Snow Canyon State Park, you take a right, and then it's 10 screaming fast miles into town. Well - it's supposed to be. I'd been warned that if it was windy, it would be the most dangerous stretch, because you can hit 60 miles an hour without trying on a calm day. But today, the winds came straight at us, and I was grateful for a headwind instead of a crosswind. I spent 10 miles riding at about 25 miles an hour, mostly out of the bars, trying to just stay steady on my bike. When you're about 2 miles from transition, the bike course and run course coincide again. It's a little disheartening to be riding your brakes down a hill, thinking about running back up it again in a few minutes!

Transition was uneventful. I dropped off Mr. Bike and thanked him for a great job on our ride that lasted 3 hours and 10 minutes, which is about the same amount of time I spent on the bike at my very first half, 7 years ago. I took a moment to duck into a porta-potty and then headed out onto the run course, which is the hardest run course I have ever been on, besides Norseman. Even Norseman's run course is flat for 15 miles. This one starts with a false flat, and then for 4 miles you climb and climb to the top of Red Hills Parkway, for a total of ~1000 feet of elevation gain.

I heard the announcer congratulating the female pro winner of the race, Holly Lawrence, as she crossed the finish line. I laughed, thinking how ridiculous it was that I still had 2 hours to run. Then the mental games started. I'm way off my normal time and pace for a half ironman. Nobody will care if I walk up this hill.

Well, I didn't walk. I didn't walk any part of the run, except for the aid stations. I'm immensely proud of this. I was inspired to continue running for several reasons...I noticed that I was passing people who had hammered around me on the bike, and that made me happy. Then, as I approached the steep hill that wouldn't end for 2 miles, I looked up it and saw a train of people walking. Of all the people on the hill in front of me, maybe 3 were running. And they were all women! As I saw their ponytails bouncing, I had this moment of pride and thought, I am not going to be the first woman to start walking. I asked my usual question: does anything hurt, or are you just tired? And with that, I ran my 12+ minute miles up the hill.

At the top of the hill, the wind was ferocious. I got hit by a tumbleweed rolling across the road, and then laughed as I was paced by another one that bounced along next to me as I ran with a massive tailwind. In this section, you weave down and then back up and down and up the same little hill. I was told before the race that this was the worst part of the run, because the sun beats down and reflects off the red rocks and black asphalt and it's stifling hot, but today the wind was blowing and I was distracted and laughing watching the tumbleweeds go by. Drink cups were flying everywhere at the aid stations. My hat kept threatening to come off, and the situation just made me laugh. It was at this point in the race where I saw most of my teammates, including Trent. From across the road, he cupped his hands around his mouth to yell something at me. Although I couldn't hear him through the howling wind, it motivated me to run faster.

Eventually, I reached mile 9, where I had been promised it would be all downhill from there. It was. The last few miles were blissfully downhill, but I had used up all my energy. I tried to run faster but could barely keep up a 9:45 pace. I ended up with my slowest half-marathon time that I can remember in recent years: 2:21!

Taking the turn towards the finish line and running down the chute was one of the most memorable experiences I've had at any race. It had the feeling of a full Ironman, the crowds lined the sides of the chute and offered high fives, of which I took at least 30. It was amazing! My finish time was 6:15, about 45 minutes slower than how I "usually" do, but I was euphoric crossing that line.

If you haven't yet high-fived an entire chute full of spectators, I highly recommend it.

Trent was waiting for me and we went to grab some food and get cleaned up. We wanted to come back for the awards ceremony at 4 pm to see all of the pros. I also had a secret wish to get a rolldown for 70.3 Worlds, but coming in 24th place in my age group wasn't going to be good enough for that.

Watching the pros accept their awards was fun, and seeing the strong, fit age group winners celebrate their podium positions was inspiring. Their times were incredible: the winners of my age group were more than an hour faster than me. I am just in awe of anyone who can go that fast on such a hard course.

Now that I've had a few days to think about it, I think difficult courses take quite a bit of pressure off, and I can think, "oh, it's a hard course, so it's ok to go slow." I probably should have pushed harder on the bike and the run, to test what I can really do. But having a good, positive race experience was important as well, and I'm glad to feel strong going into Boulder, both mentally and physically.

That's Kona champ Sebastian Kienle, y'all. He was so friendly and chatted with us a little bit about his race. 

Brownlee not only won the race, he set a new course record.

We went to dinner afterward at Chili's (of course) with our Big Sexy Racing teammates. I have to say that seeing teammates and friends that I have met through the sport is one of the best things about traveling to races. It was so great to meet a few more teammates at this one, and to make some more new friends!

St. George was a great first race to kick off the season. I've written before about practicing staying relentlessly positive during a race, but at this one, there was no need. I was effortlessly happy all day, to the point where it kind of freaked me out! Needless to say, St. George is my new happy place. It's a tough course, but that's part of what makes this race special. The town loves and supports the sport. The scenery is beautiful. The logistics are flawless and the volunteers are amazing. We'll be back for sure.

I just want to say thank you, as always, for reading this report and for your support and encouragement. It truly means so much. Next up: Ironman Boulder on June 11!

Chasing Dreams to Colorado

A couple of years ago, I gave a speech in which I challenged 300 of my friends and coworkers to ask "why not?" and to move forward and live their dreams. Since that day, I've felt like I needed to keep that momentum going in my own life, to continuously push forward and challenge myself, whether it was taking a new position at work or setting big goals in triathlon. When you start to challenge yourself that way all the time, it's really interesting where that kind of mindset will take you.

Last September, Trent and I took a weekend trip to Keystone, Colorado, to ride our bikes up some mountains. Before the plane to Denver had left the ground, we were talking about how awesome it would be to live in Colorado. How cool would it be to train in the beautiful mountains all the time? By the time we arrived back in San Antonio three days later, we had a plan for making it happen.

In mid-September we started sending resumes to Colorado to see where one might stick. We were driving home from Ironman Louisville a month later when we got the first exciting email, "please call to schedule a phone interview." A month after that, while Trent was out for a training ride in Phoenix two days before Ironman Arizona, I received the magical phone call with an offer for a position at a great company here in Denver.

I don't think it's a coincidence that these big things happened around Ironman events. The Ironman motto is "anything is possible." After you've cross an Ironman finish line, you start to believe it. To get to that line, you have to have strength of body and mind. You put in the training and hard work towards a goal. On race day, you push through pain and doubt to accomplish something that feels huge and meaningful, and you understand that you made it possible through will and dedication. Like so many others, Ironman's great gift to me is that I started believing that I can do whatever I put my mind to. The events of the past few months are more proof to me that this is true.

Things started moving fast after Ironman Arizona. We had to get ready to move, sell the house, give notice at work. It was hard to leave a company where I've worked for almost 10 years and made so many friends. It was hard to leave San Antonio, where I've lived for 20+ years since college; hard to leave friends and family behind, even though I know we'll be back to visit. I cried in my car driving past Kerrville on I-10, looking towards my parents' house and at landmarks and roads where Shelly and I began our triathlon days.

Then of course, I started looking forward, and although we've only been here one month, what a month it has been! We had a fairytale white Christmas in Winter Park with Trent's boys, we've ridden our bikes through Red Rocks, gone running on snowy trails only minutes from our front door, been downhill skiing, snowshoeing, and ice skating. I'm looking forward to so many adventures to come!

Christmas in Winter Park

Trent has always dreamed of living here in Colorado. For me, it wasn't just, "I need to be in the mountains." I don't think I would have been able to move somewhere that I didn't have a personal connection, and it just happens that I have so many wonderful ones here. Whiting, my amazing swimmy friend that I met at a triathlon camp 2 years ago, and have kept in touch with. Naomi, my bff from high school, who moved here with her husband years ago. And of course, the heart of our triathlon team, Big Sexy Racing - Erika and Chris McDonald live just down the road in Boulder, and so do several of our awesome teammates. The world seems smaller and smaller when you realize how many people you're connected to, near and far.

Back in a swim lane together again with Whiting and some new friends!

Naomi and I picked up right where we left off over 20 years ago in high school in Lafayette, LA.

There is a saying, "The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now." I'm so grateful that I've learned the lesson that it's never too late to do the things you want to do, to live the life you want to live. You can allow yourself to get stuck in the every day; you can make excuses, or you can make a decision to do something. Whatever it is, choose it, and then jump in with both feet and see what happens. Plant your tree.

As always, I'm honored that you're reading this. Thank you for your encouragement and well wishes, and I wish the best to you as well, my amazing friends and family. Happy New Year!

Why Not? Sharing My Ironman Story

A couple of months ago, I auditioned for CapitalSpeaks, an event at my company that was designed to provide associates with the opportunity to "share, connect, and inspire." I was thrilled to be selected to participate. On October 8, I shared my story with an audience of 300+ people.

It's probably no surprise that I talked about my Ironman journey. What did surprise me is that this experience was not unlike an Ironman - I put my heart and time into preparing for it, I had an amazing coach (Michael Balaoing), I shared the experience with 6 other associates who had the same goal and worked hard to attain it, and I ended up incredibly proud of a job well done at the end. I feel honored to have been a part of this event and thankful to everyone who had a part in it.

Q&A session with all 7 speakers.

Super fun times at the reception afterwards with coach Michael Balaoing!

So happy that most of my friends at work were there to support me. (Selfie by Joanna, Tim, and Mari)

My favorite part of my page of the program is Jordan Rapp's quote: "If you have a dream, pursue it as hard as you can." 

Five years ago, my manager, Terri, gave me good luck balloons before my first half Ironman. She did the same thing before this event - coolest manager ever.

I was beyond happy that Mom and Dad were there to share the day.

Tucson Tri Camp 2015 - Easy Does It

I have to be honest, when I signed up for a third visit to Hillary Biscay's Tucson tri camp, I wasn't sure what I'd get out of it. In 2012, when Shelly and I attended our first-ever camp, my longest ride up to that point was 60 miles and we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. That year was about surviving all the workouts (we did). I was super excited to go back in 2013 with Aixa, Linda, and Herb to do all the same rides/runs/swims. I wanted to see how much I had improved since the year before (I had - a lot). I didn't go to camp last year, but I did go to Tucson twice to train for the mountains I'd be climbing at Norseman. What more could I learn from training in Tucson? As teammate Chris and I drove towards Arizona last Wednesday, I wondered if I'd get enough out of the experience to make it worth the money and a week of vacation from work.

This year's San Antonio Tri-Belief crew - Chris, me, Dawn, and Kelley

Well, of course I did. It was exactly what I needed, in many ways. Getting out of the rainy, cold weather of San Antonio was a start. Spending several days focused only on swim/bike/run/eat/sleep was an amazing mental break. And as always, interacting with a group of 25 talented, driven triathletes was an inspiring way to kick off the season.

My main takeaway from camp was not at all what I expected, and it is this: sometimes, you're supposed to go EASY.

On the third day of camp, before a 25 mile ride from Starr Pass over Gates Pass and around the famed McCain Loop, Hillary told us that we were going to ride easy. She explained that there's a benefit to doing easy workouts, and that we were going to learn how to do it. Going easy on easy days means you can really go hard on hard days, and that's how you improve. I would guess that many age groupers, like me, tend to try to go hard every day - which means you really go "medium" every day, and that doesn't help you. It just puts you in a "grey zone" where you end up not having the capacity to ever go really hard, Hillary explained.

I was skeptical about how "easy" this easy ride would be. There's some steady climbing for about 8 miles until a huge descent...then a gorgeous rolling loop through a valley filled with Saguaro cactus, then an enormous half-mile climb before a fun descent back to the start. I've done this ride 4 times, and even when it was described as an "easy shakeout ride," it Was Not Easy.

I was assigned to ride with Maik (Twelsiek). The instructions were to stay behind him at all times. The athletes in my group looked at each other and almost laughed - yeah, we'd have no problem staying behind Maik. This is the guy we'd all watched on TV last October as he absolutely CRUSHED the bike at Kona. It might be an easy ride for him, but there's no way it would be easy for me.

Maik and his campers at the Gates Pass scenic overlook. 

To my surprise, we really did roll out easy, five campers like ducks in a row behind Coach Maik. We began the steady climb, spun up the hill in the tiniest of gears, with my power meter reading only 100 watts. And that's how it went for an hour and a half. I had to really concentrate on spinning behind Maik and not trying to crush it up any of the hills. Sometimes I held my brakes because I was terrified to accidentally go around him.

My legs weren't tired, my breathing wasn't labored, and we were climbing easy up towards Gates Pass. And around McCain Loop. And even though it took some work to get back up the other side, that part only lasted a minute or so, and it was back to easy spinning and flying back down to the start without even pedaling. A truly Easy Ride.

Right before the climb back over Gates Pass.

Ironically, the first time we went to camp in 2012, the main takeaway that Shelly and I brought home was that everyone works much harder at this than we ever imagined. We vowed to crush every workout from that day forward. It made sense at the time. I know it made us stronger. But I know now that learning how to go easy on easy days will make me stronger too.

Of course, I also realized that there's always something new to learn. So...see you next year, Tucson tri camp.

Chris checked Facebook on a gorgeous, sunny morning, and we congratulated ourselves for not having to ride in the rain like the folks doing the Castroville time trial that day. The weather in Tucson was perfect this time of year!

I met some of the coolest, strongest ladies on this trip. This is Whiting with me in our "before" picture for the 100x100 swim. We were smiling afterwards too. She, Cherryl, and I had the happiest of super happy fun times switching off leading our lane.

Coaches Emily Cocks and Hillary Biscay providing life-changing instruction (well, swim-changing, anyway) at the technique-focus swim on Sunday.

The L.A. Ladies - Cherryl, Terri, and Lynne at the top of Mt. Lemmon. They may look like your San Antonio matchy matchy Iron Whiners...but with one difference - these ladies race Kona like every year. It was so fun and inspiring to meet and spend time with them.

A trail run with Hillary wouldn't be complete without getting lost - this time we ended up climbing through a barb-wire fence trying to find our way back to the trail.

Super happy fun times on the trail at Starr Pass (before we got lost). 

Camp isn't camp without a visit to Frog and Firkin afterwards to celebrate.

Breaking Bad(Ass)

We're due for some nice, dry weekend weather here in San Antonio - for two weeks in a row, Saturday morning has been a rainy mess, which makes for some unpleasant cycling. Last weekend, the girls and I hit Castroville and managed to get all our efforts in before the rain came. The last hour of our ride was spent in misty drizzle in traffic on slippery streets with road grime flinging up from passing cars and trucks into our faces. The highlight of that ride was having a driver pull up at a traffic light next to us in her (warm, dry) car and tell us "I just want to tell you guys that you are so badass." Were we badass or stupid to be out there? We decided on "reluctantly badass" because we had tried to outrun the rain, but failed. It still felt good to hear. 

Last Saturday's mudfest.

When you're on a journey trying to morph from not-so-badass to Super Badass status (whatever that looks like to you), you're going to have to face your fears at some point, whether it's on purpose or not. Yesterday turned out to be an exercise in facing fears, although I didn't know it when I set out. I rode with Dawn and Trent, a new member of our squad. Dawn was planning on an easy 70 miles. 

Fear #1 - Dawn's "easy rides" are never easy for me. I don't know Trent and I don't know how fast he rides. Will I be able to keep up?

Then, as soon as we exited Dawn's neighborhood, it started raining. ARGH.

Fear #2 - Robert just detailed my bike for me last weekend after I rode in the rain. He's going to kill me. (just kidding - sort of)

Real Fear #2 - I'm afraid of riding in the rain in traffic in a group that I'm not at the front of. I always feel safer in front. And clearly I am not going to be riding at the front of this group. 

As we rode easy up Blanco Road, Dawn was trying to decide on a route. She picked Kendalia/Edge Falls because it would have less traffic on this rainy day. 

Fear #3 - The route. Dawn described this route as "Alphanso's first 100 miler, remember, last year?" I do remember, but not because it was Alphanso's first 100 miler. It was a ride that I totally melted down on. On a rainy, cold day, very much like this day, we rode with a ton of people out to Kendalia/Edge Falls, and I was having a bad day. I couldn't keep up and I was pissed. The folks on the ride who were doing IMTX were expected to do 100 miles, and some were just along for the group ride. Freezing our butts off in the rain on scary high-traffic highways, Orissa and Brian, who were not doing IMTX, decided to turn back and cut the day short early. I opted to go with them. I ended up standing in the middle of Amman Road with Dawn (who had turned back to check on us) screaming at me about mental toughness, and me screaming back that I didn't need to build any character, I had plenty, thank you very much. I ended up continuing the ride and reluctantly building mental toughness. It's hilarious to look back on now, a year later, but as we rode yesterday, those memories kept resurfacing as I struggled to stay with our speedy little group that now included a stray roadie that we had picked up along the way.

Dawn, me, Trent, and the Stray Roadie (think his name was Greg).

Fear #4 - Riding in my aerobars in a group. Yep, I'm still not over this. And I need to get there before I race again. I know I won't be racing in a peloton, and that sometimes it's safer to sit up on a group ride, but sometimes you need to just suck it up and practice being around people in your aerobars. So yesterday, I did a 10 minute effort in the rain at the front of the group, in my aerobars with Dawn next to me yelling to stay in my aerobars. I did, and I even turned corners and I didn't fall down, and I lost a tiny bit of fear.

It ended up being a ride that I was proud of, and I do feel somewhat more badass for facing some fears and pushing a little bit past them. I've had conversations about fear - with Dawn, regarding riding in aerobars in crowds and wet roads - "aren't you afraid to fall and break your collarbone again?" "Yes, but I'm more afraid to ride slow and let my coach down." Maybe sometimes it's about choosing which fear to listen to. And then today on our run, I talked about it again with Brian - "Aren't you afraid to ride in the rain?" "Yes, but I'm more afraid to be screamed at by my coach for being a weenie." Whatever works, right? Moving forward. :)

100x100 Birthday Swim Report (or, How this Christmas Was the Greatest Day Ever)

I’m not sure but I think the 100x100 Birthday Swim was invented by our beloved Grand Coachie Hillary Biscay. This is when you get together with your friends and celebrate a birthday (or any special occasion, really) by swimming 100 100s (and now, for the feats of strength!). If you swim in a pool that’s measured in meters, that’s 10,000 meters, or 6.2 miles, aka swimming a 10k; how super cool is it to be able to say you’ve done that!?

Obstacles to doing this on my birthday:

• Gyms (and the pools within) are closed on Christmas day.
• Everybody’s busy (rightfully so, it’s a family day!).
• It’s cold outside, so nobody wants to!

Waaaa… poor me.

Note: Be careful what you wish for. About a month ago, I was indulging in some complaining on this subject and Linda (high school swim coach extraordinaire!) said, “Hey, maybe I can open the pool at Blossom on Christmas day. Let me check with my aquatic director.” And just like that, we were able to get into the beautiful Davis Pool and swim 100x100 on Christmas morning!

Before - all smiles!

 Linda’s swim kids wrote the set for us and Dawn weighed in. On Christmas morning at 6:30 am, Linda, Orissa, Dawn, Herb and I met at Blossom to start our swim.

The set.

At first, we all had our own lanes, but after the first 20 100s, Dawn told me to come and share hers. “Sit on my feet for these band-only 100s,” she said. Band-only is where you tie your feet together and swim with only your arms, dragging the rest of your body behind you, and it’s hard. The most I’ve ever done is 25 meters at a time with a bunch of rest. So basically, 45 minutes into our 4-hour workout, I entered hell, even with the benefit of drafting off Dawn.

She dragged me through the next 15x100 too, telling me to “fight” and “stay with it” as I gasped at the wall, touching and going, while she and Linda got AT LEAST 10-15 seconds rest on each interval and didn’t even look like they were breathing hard. “I can’t believe I asked for this. It’s my birthday, I did this to myself, what the f, OMG we’re not even halfway through this, it's my birthday and they are HAZING ME” is what was going through my head. Herb was doing his own thing in the lane beside us, Dawn and Linda were gliding effortlessly side by side as I gasped on Dawn’s feet for 25 meters and then lost her on the first turn each time, and Orissa tried valiantly to keep up in her own lane on the other side of Linda.

As we worked through a set of PBB (paddles, buoy, band) with aching shoulders, Dawn commented that she needed to leave for Santa duties. At this exact time, Brian showed up to join us. We all hugged and squealed and took a photo for posterity, and then Dawn left after 5400 total meters. And Linda said the best words of the day, “I hate PBB! Let’s get rid of it! Let’s kick with fins and kickboards instead!” A glimmer of hope – the workout was changing. Orissa and I smiled joyfully as we kicked and gossiped and chatted for 1000 meters.

Halfway through!

It wasn’t all fun and games though. Linda made us work hard after that, but finally we were finished, and after congratulating ourselves and each other, we headed out to spend time with our families. I can't even describe how grateful and filled with love I am for my fun, fearless friends who came to swim with me early in the morning on a day that’s reserved for family.

Finished! Success!

That wasn't all for the day, though...

I would already have chalked yesterday up as one of the greatest birthdays of my life due to the swim party. But I had another surprise in store. Later that evening, I opened my present from Robert. The packaging said Quarq on it, but I couldn’t believe that that's what was really inside the box. It’s probably just an accessory of some kind…nope – it’s a power meter. Quarq Elsa power meter OMG and it’s mine!

Matt and Dawn have been preaching power to me forever and for almost as long as that, I've been trying to figure out how to get my hands on a power meter. It's certainly not a "need" but it is most definitely a "want." I don’t understand how all three of them were able to keep this a secret from me, but they totally did. I was even in Bicycle Heaven on Friday, crying about power to Matt as he kept a straight face and told me not to believe in Santa Claus. And Dawn, who can never keep a secret but always tells you not to say anything, was able to hold it in while I begged her on Saturday to hit up Meredith Kessler for a used Powertap hub. Even Hillary knew…sneaky sneaky sneaky. It's so cool that the people that I hold in highest regard were all conspiring together on this fabulous surprise.

The best gift, though, is that my amazing hubby totally gets it. As I sat there speechless over his gift, he quietly said to me, “You had to have it. I want to help you to be great at this.” He gets it, he gets me; I am the luckiest luckiest luckiest.

Alright, I've gushed enough for one post...but finally, here's a little inspiration from a super cool RALLY TOWEL that Linda had made for all the Iron Whiners. I love love love this quote:

Happy holidays and happy training, and here's to a fantastic 2014!

Smashed

Camp is officially over. All that is left is a celebratory evening and then a long drive home. I'm tired, exhausted, smashed, and I am proud to say that I left everything out there; I gave it everything I had.

We had a huge day yesterday - a technique focused swim in the morning, followed by a 60 mile ride to the top of Mt. Lemmon and back down, then a 30 minute transition run, and then a dinner at Hillary and Maik's house that ended with us raiding the Smashfest Queen closet (awesome!!!!)

The day was amazing. I took some instruction from Hillary on my swim stroke (still completely star struck, I mean how completely cool is it to get swim instruction from one of the top pro swimmers in Ironman?!) and I can't wait to try swimming again when I get home to incorporate the tweaks to my technique.

Swim buddies - conquered a 10K swim together! - me, Taryn, and Aixa. 

For the ride, Hillary would lead me, Aixa, Linda, Taryn, and Kate up the mountain. As we rolled out, I immediately noticed how much hotter than it was last year. Throughout the ride, I remembered the scenery pretty clearly from the year before, and I was thrilled to see the first sag stop at a point that seemed to appear way earlier than it should have. I think I got a little overexcited by this and I took off from that stop, rushing ahead of everyone up the climb. I wanted to prove that I could do better than last year. However, I didn't know how to calculate that, because all I knew was that it took just under 5 hours to do the entire ride last year, ascent and descent combined.

Linda followed and then we reached the second stop at Windy Point, about halfway up. By that time, I was a mess. I had stopped drinking, I felt nauseated, and I couldn't eat anything. This has pretty much been a standard between workouts this week, but during workouts I have been able to continue fueling, until this time. I just couldn't stand the thought of eating or drinking anything. Gail forced me to drink an entire bottle of sports drink and water and then refilled them both. As we pulled away again, Linda took off ahead and I couldn't even try to keep up with her. I just drank from my bottles (managed to drop one in the road, and watch it roll away from me downhill in slow motion) and tried pull myself out of the hole. I was miserable for at least an hour. Then, magically, everything came together and I started to feel better. Hillary appeared on my wheel and provided encouragement and distraction, and before I knew it, I made it to the top! Hillary guessed that we arrived 45 minutes earlier than I had climbed the previous year.

Snacks and drinks at the Cookie Cabin with the whole crew (we headed up in waves this year instead of starting all at the same time) and we headed back down. Just like last year, I asked Hillary if I could sit behind her and watch her descend, and I screamed at Linda to come up and get the same instruction. We are both chickens in descending and we both learned so much from Hillary in the hour+ that it took to get down the mountain. I hit 41 miles per hour without feeling like I was going to crash off my bike! When we returned to the car, I determined that I took over 30 minutes off my time from last year. So incredibly cool.

Then we ran. Again I felt shaky and terrible. But I said "I can do anything for 30 minutes" - the old mantra Shelly and I have always had. As I was finishing up the run and starting to feel better, Maik was running up the road the other way to check on everyone. He ran beside me for a moment or two, long enough to give me some instruction on my technique (loosen up those shoulders) and to tell me, and I quote, "You have improved so much from last year. It's amazing to watch you." (Again - completely star struck. One of the top pros in Ironman is telling me that it's amazing to watch me. I didn't even think that he even saw me at all last year, he was very busy leading the fast group, and did not spend much time with me and Shelly.) At that point I started to get emotional and I told him that he couldn't make me cry while I was running. He laughed and ran off to the next person and I was left alone to hyperventilate and try to breathe, run, and stop crying at the same time. I think this was my proudest moment of this whole experience.

From high highs to low lows - today's trail run on the Starr Pass trails was something else entirely. I had no more energy left. I couldn't eat another peanut butter and honey sandwich for breakfast, so I tried cheerios and I couldn't do it. So I showed up unfueled and unhappy to the run. I was distressed to hear that I'd be running with Hillary today and that Herb would not. The entire time that we've been signed up for camp, I've been looking forward to seeing Herb in his element and to have him teach me a thing or two (he had an awesome run today!). But I was not going to argue with Grand Coachie. Instead I tried to toughen up and figure out how I'd keep up with her on this run.

Well, I didn't. Within an hour, Linda had fallen and cut up her hands pretty well, and suffered a mini-meltdown in the process. I tried to talk her out of it but did a terrible job because I was a mess myself. Aixa cleaned Linda up at the car and we were off again for another hour...that turned into 2 and a half. Three and a half total hours on the trail, 11 something miles, and Linda and I walked/stumbled/jogged/grumbled most of it together, with Hillary running back to check on us every so often. We fantasized about being eaten by bears, dreamed about being rescued by helicopters, and joked about thowing hissy fits. Then we all ran out of water because it was taking so long to get back. This run was a total beatdown for the two of us, but Aixa kept up with Hillary and looked strong and steady every time we saw her - I was impressed!

Dr. Alvarez at work.

Linda and I in the 7th circle of hell.

Dawn is going to ask what I've learned from camp and I think it's this - I finally understand what people are talking about when they say that you can go through high highs and low lows within the same day. They're usually talking about the day of an Ironman race, but I experienced this on the bike yesterday and the run today. These things come and go, and I need to remember that when race day arrives.

Maybe after I've had some time to reflect, I'll have more to say about this experience. For the moment, I'll say I'm so glad I came back a second time to see what I can do compared to just a year ago. It's completely awesome. Now it's time to get home, get some sleep (AND SOME WHATABURGER) and get focused on the race prep phase for IMTX.