Kerrville Triathlon Festival 2019: The Family That Races Together

In all our years in endurance sports, Dad and I have never raced together. We've cheered for each other at running events and triathlons, and he slowed his normal pace to run a couple of 10k races with me at my pace when I was a beginner. He paced me twice up Zombie Hill at the end of Norseman. But we have never entered an event where we were both racing, until this one. It was awesome. 

When I signed up for the Quarter/Olympic/Intermediate distance race at the Kerrville Triathlon Festival this summer, I expected a "just for fun" experience on a borrowed road bike. Of course as soon as the gun went off, all of that went out the window and I went for it, competing at whatever level I could. Swimming in a race at sea level after training at altitude for nearly three years was incredible, and I ran out of the water second in my age group. 

It took about 20 minutes on the bike for the girls in my age group to start catching me, and I'd lose several places during the bike ride to end up 9th at the finish. Even so, I was really happy with my bike split - it felt great, and I told Orissa afterwards that I wanted to keep her bike that she had so graciously let me borrow. I think all the run training I've been doing this summer somehow translated into one good bike ride. 

I went out fast on the run and tried to hold it, but really fell apart towards the end in the heat and humidity that I'm no longer used to, especially running past the finish line for the cruel little out-and-back on the Kerrville River Trail. I'm familiar enough with the course to know at that point that the run was going to be nearly half a mile too long. I left everything out there on the course and I felt really good about my day, finishing in just over 3 hours, which is about 10 minutes slower than the last time I raced here...not too bad! 

Dad's swim wave started 10 minutes behind mine, and Trent had urged him over the phone the day before that it was Dad's turn to to chase and pass me on the bike, like Trent always used to do. It was fun trying to hold Dad off. It was a really fun day, and I have to say that racing a triathlon really makes me want to race triathlons...

Dad was the real star of the show last weekend, earning first place in his age group. I'm so proud and here's his race report in his own words!

Big Sexy Racing on the podium!

Dad's Race Report: 1st Place Male 70+

So, here I am once again, at the start of my second triathlon. My goal is just to finish, but there is also a kick-butt element lurking in the background. Looking at the lake, the morning breeze is whipping up the top-current. The pre-swim the day before had me dreading the headwind. Who knew that wind could create a current like that?

Kristina’s flight had entered the water ten minutes earlier. And I knew she’d make up at least another ten minutes on the swim. Of course, by the end of the day, she would gain on every phase of the event. Go Kris, go!

The water was wonderful, warmer and clearer than last time, but those little waves could spell disaster. I took my first breath of water right after the first buoy. Luckily a kayak was there for me to grab onto to get air flowing again. My second breath of water happened moments later. This was going to be a tough swim. Swimming 1000m in a pool is like a warm-up, but the open water is a totally different story. And to think, I had actually been looking forward to this when I signed up a few weeks ago.

At about 600m my goggles steamed up and I could see just enough to make out the people around me. Hopefully they were leading me in the right direction. Swim-out is elation! The hand grabbing your wrist signifies that you survived once again, without embarassment.

The whole family cheering and high-fiving on the way to T1 is a blast. I took a full minute off my previous T1 time…and I got the whole thing right.

After that swim, climbing onto the bike is like finding an old friend to enjoy the next 29 miles together. The coolish weather made the ride fabulous, and these were my daily-ride roads. We headed out into a strong headwind, and I figured life would be fantastic coming back home downwind. I decided that I would wait until the turn so I could sit up and coast while taking an energy gel. It all worked great, except that we turned into even more wind. How can that happen? We really didn’t get a good tail-wind until the last seven or eight miles. I did plan to ease off the last mile or two - like that was going to happen.

Another chorus of cheers greeted me at T2. I knocked a minute off my T2 time, even though I went to the wrong bike rack. (For a few seconds, I was convinced my bag had been sabotaged.) And then it was off to the run (walk and jog). Six miles is a long way when you’re tired. After a mile, I met Kristina on her way home. She was smiling and looking great, as always. This was the first time we’d ever entered a competitive event together, what a joy to see her on the course.

I jogged as much as I could, always on the lookout for other 70 year-old guys. When I saw my competition coming towards me on the out-and-back course, I made sure to jog a little faster as we passed each other. I was a good mile ahead of my only rival at that point, but I kept up the pace always trying to maintain a small reserve for the end. Kristina came back to meet me on the way in - she’d finished an age ago.

The cheering squad was there at the finish, (Maria, Adam, Jen, William, Henry, Hazel, and Kristina) how cool is that? After crossing the line, Jen gave me the news that I was first in my age-group. It’s been years since I stood on a podium, and I almost lost my balance getting up there! My times were a minute or two slower than two years ago (even though I felt better at every stage). But I achieved my goal - to finish, with just a dash of kick-butt in there.

Now the only remaining question is…will I have forgotten how terrifying the swim can be before the August 2020 sign-up date?

Yes Dad, of course you'll forget! I can't wait to race with you next year. #familytradition

It was fun to find our names listed on the banner at the expo.

I loved riding Orissa's bike!

Orissa and I got to start the race together, and I love this picture snapped right before we ran into the water. I think we somehow look like Beavis and Butthead!

An added bonus, Adam, Jen and kids came all the way from Louisiana to cheer at this race. It was so great to spend the weekend with my family.

And it was so great to spend time with my friends as well!

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.

Ultra Baby! Bear Chase 50k Race Report 2017

After pacing our friend Doug at the Leadville 100 in August, it was inevitable that I'd be inspired to try an ultramarathon. Of course my first wouldn't be a 100 mile race, but I wanted to know what it felt like to run more than 26.2 miles at one time, on trails. Following Doug's advice, I signed up for the Bear Chase 50K, which would take place approximately 6 weeks after inspiration struck at Leadville.

I was concerned that there wouldn't be enough time for a real build for this 31-mile trail race. I haven't been doing that much running this year anyway; I was barely trained to run the 13.1 miles at the end of Boulder 70.3 in August. But a trail race is very different from a road race, and I'd learned in Leadville that there would be a fair amount of hiking instead of running. Without allowing myself to think too carefully about it, I signed up for the race, and the wave of fear-induced nausea that came over me when I pressed the "submit" button was wonderful.

Besides the lack of time to prepare, I had another potential complication going into this first ultra: I would be self-coached for the first time in 7 years. I could write an entire post about the agony of that decision, but the short story is that I couldn't justify the financial cost of having a coach against what I was willing to put into training. I loved having a coach, and it was a fairly large sacrifice to go off on my own. Two months later, I do ultimately feel like it was the best decision for me at the time.

After some online research and some great tips and advice from my lovely friend and original coach(ie) Dawn Elder, I put together a plan for this trail race. It wasn't particularly sophisticated: training consisted of running and swimming a lot, and putting my bike away for a few weeks (our relationship needed a break anyway).

I felt super cool buying all the important necessary gear: a new pair of trail shoes, a hydration backpack, and a hat with a picture of a runner on it. Trent joked that I was wasting no time "rebranding" myself as an ultrarunner. I have to say that it felt very cool to be doing something different.

Super cool, super necessary gear.

The great thing about the race that I picked is that it was right next our apartment. That meant that I got to practice on the course nearly every weekend. Whiting and I had signed up for the race together, and we ran one unlucky training run on the course where she literally broke her foot. I felt terrible for her having to end her season that way, and I wasn't thrilled about continuing to train by myself, but I was committed.

Whiting standing in one of the water crossings on one of our training runs.

It takes a lot longer to run on trails with elevation gain than it does to run on pavement. My 17, 19, and 20-mile training runs were taking upwards of 4 hours. But, in a very short amount of time, I developed an intense love for running on trails. It's the kind of running where you don't have to be distracted by music. You somehow get connected with the air and sky and the ground beneath you and although it hurts to run for several hours at a time, it feels completely different from training to run a particular pace for a road race. It's somehow just completely freeing. Maybe because as a beginner, there are no expectations (from myself or others) of time or pace. I loved training for this race.

Race day itself was a total celebration. The course was 1 small loop and 2 big loops around the Bear Creek Lake park. It was marked by little ribbons tied to trees. There were 7 knee-deep water crossings and 3 hikes up a hill labeled Mt. Carbon, so I am going to say that I ran up a mountain 3 times during this race. It was such a small event with barely any fanfare and just over 100 participants. Basically, it was totally the opposite of an Ironman. I loved it.

I spent the first 20 miles smiling and giggling and apparently breaking into song and dance and jazz hands every time I saw someone with a camera. After I began the 3rd loop, with 11 miles left, the wheels began to come off, and there was plenty of walking from that point on. At the 26 mile mark, I marveled to myself that every step after this would be further than I'd ever ran before. And then the guy in front of me yelled "rattlesnake" and 3 of us had to jump over a terrifying snake, which at that point in the day, took quite a great deal of energy!

Jazz hands

More jazz hands

Doug was volunteering to direct traffic about halfway through the big loop. Seeing him was amazing and I cheerfully thanked him for the inspiration. Doug and Whiting's kids were volunteering at an aid station just down the hill, and it was so fun to see familiar happy faces three times on the course. I finished the race with a cheering section led by Trent, Whiting, and Annette, whose husband had also raced.

My race took seven hours. I have never run for such a long time in my life. After talking with friends post-race, I realized that starting my triathlon journey as a fairly slow participant actually gave me a huge mental advantage as a beginner at this event. There was a ton of suffering out there on the last loop of the run, but mine was minimal compared to that of other participants. I know what it's like to suffer through a 7 hour half ironman, and a 16 hour ironman race. Other folks making the leap to "ultramarathon" likely do it after a few successful marathons, and running 26.2 fast miles on a road is very different from running 31 miles on trails.

I wasn't even close to fast; in fact, of 133 entrants, I finished in 100th place, near the bottom of my age group. None of that mattered. I was so excited to finish my first ultra and to be able to say with pride, "I am an ultrarunner!"

Although I know my true love is triathlon, running is always like coming home. Trail running is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do. I think back to some camp experiences where I described trail running as "the seventh circle of hell," and it makes me laugh to think about how different my mindset is now.

As always there is a common denominator in endurance racing of any kind. I love that all of it has the same kind of lesson for me - what can I do? How far can I push myself out of my comfort zone? I think the answer is "pretty far," and I'm fairly certain I haven't even scratched the surface yet. I say it every year around this time, and I'm saying it again: I can't wait to see what's next.

Like Father, Like Daughter: Dad's First Tri

I have a guest blogger for you this week: my Dad!

An accomplished runner, Dad has always been my endurance sports inspiration. When he encouraged me to enter my first 10k race 17 years ago, I would never have guessed where that road would lead. After he and Mom spent the last 10 years cheering for me at triathlons and even crewing for me at Norseman, imagine my surprise and delight when Dad announced that he'd like to try a triathlon.

I loved cheering for Dad this weekend as he raced the Olympic distance race at the Kerrville Triathlon Festival! Here's the story of his day - in his own words.

Kerrville Tri Race Report 2017
by John Swann

Here I stand, at the start-line of my very first triathlon. I’ve finally plucked up the courage to be standing here, looking out at the lines of buoys that mark the 1000 meter swim course. My bike, and helmet, and shoes and other stuff are waiting at T1. My running shoes, hat, number belt, drinks, and other stuff are hanging in a bag at T2. I’m wishing I could be at one of those places now.

Everyone says that open-water swimming is a beast to conquer. I’ve been swimming for over two years, going up and down the lap pool, fighting off little old ladies who insist on doing their aqua-bounces in the middle of my lane. My regular training distance is more than double this triathlon swim. So this should be a breeze, right?

I swam in the open sea, in Bali. I swam out to a buoy, perhaps 100 meters offshore. The farther from shore I got, the bigger the imagined sharks became, and the stronger the imaginary rip tide was becoming. I was freaked out. The next day, I did it again and, was it my imagination, or were those sharks just a little less menacing?

A year ago I had done a practice swim to the first buoy of today’s course. I was gasping for breath from the start, and I just wanted to get back to shore, where I could touch bottom.

But also a year ago, I had watched the triathletes on the run part of the course. Some were out of shape, some were barely walking, but I remember thinking that every one of them had done that swim.

I signed up for this event after years of watching Kristina and her friends compete in, and destroy, Ironman courses all over the nation. I always wanted to give it a shot. And the Kerrville Tri is right on our doorstep. Word got out that I was entering, and almost immediately, Kristina and Trent had booked their flights from Denver. Kristina’s San Antonio friends decided to join the festival, And our neighbors were asking about the race. So there was no way to back out.

Kristina had given swim-coaching tips (after watching videos of my stroke), and the coach at the local pool declared that I was a good swimmer. (although his final piece of advice was “if you get into trouble just raise your hand and the kayaks will get you!). The day before the race I had done a practice swim on the first part of the course, with Orissa and Kristina. They had estimated the distance to be about 700 or 800 meters. I was ready.

Start-line thoughts: don’t go out too fast, go easy to the first buoy, stay out of the way of others, follow the shoreline, I’ve got this. Other start-line thoughts: did I get enough to eat, did I drink too much, will my goggles leak, will I get leg cramp and, I hope I didn’t do too much yesterday!

We inched toward the start-line and timing mat. An announcement “and now at the start-line, in his first triathlon, at age 69….” Even the competitors behind me wished me well! And then I was swimming. “Go easy, get your stroke going.” The first two kayaks along the course already had competitors hanging from them. The water was choppy and murky, and I couldn’t even see my hand at the bottom of the stroke. After rounding the first turn, it was time to just swim parallel to the shore for about 500 meters, each stroke taking me farther away from the start-line. My swim stroke was horrible, my breathing was ragged, and more than once I took on water. But I had a crowd waiting at the swim-out, so I couldn’t stop.

The farthest point on the course was marked by a red triangle buoy. Reaching it took forever, but when I got there, it turned out to be the most beautiful red buoy I’ve ever set eyes on. And, once I got around it, something magical happened. I was now swimming towards the finish line. My breathing evened out, my stroke became more confident. Now, I really had got this!

At swim-out, another announcement “in his first triathlon at age 69, lets have a cheer for…”. It was great to be done with the swim. There were lots of high fives on the way to T1. Just a wonderful feeling.

I love to ride a bike. I love my bike with aero-bars fitted. And I love the Big Sexy Racing tri-suit that Kristina had given to me. I know all the roads around here like the back of my hand. What could go wrong? Well, from the first pedal stroke my quads tried to cramp up. Now that was a new experience on a bike. I suppose that’s a post-swim phenomenon. It took two miles of easy riding, and some coaxing, for things to get back to normal.

Riding through Kerrville’s main streets with police stopping all other traffic was awesome. Then the rain started, and I love riding in the rain! The outward ride was into the wind, which is how I always plan my training rides. Fellow competitors were courteous, no-one drafted, many had kind words as we passed each other. Several people had flats along the way, and there was one crash at the top of the only hill on the course. But for me, the ride was perfect. I used up the last of my onboard fluids with a mile to go. Everything was going according to plan. And the cheering crew was in full voice.

After trading my bike for running shoes at T2, it was time to walk/jog 6.5 miles. Those were long miles. And the sun made them hot and humid after all the rain. My pre-race goal was to get to the finish line. But it’s so frustrating not to be able to run and compete anymore. So I walked and jogged the whole way. It was tough even so.

At the finish line, a final announcement “and now crossing the line, in his first triathlon, at age 69, from Big Sexy Racing,…..”

Hugs and high fives all round. And Kristina took me immediately to the food area “drink this coke, drink all that water, you need protein, chips, something sweet, a beer…”

So that was it. I now have a whole new perspective on triathlons. Swimming 1000 meters is pretty straight forward (especially in hind-sight), biking 29 miles is easy, and walking/jogging 6.5 miles is a piece of cake. But put all those things back-to-back-to-back and it gets tough.

Now, its even harder for me to fathom how Kristina and her Ironman buddies do what they do. And how do you jump into a darkened fjord and swim two and a half miles to shore?

What a great day, start to finish. A huge thank you to all the folks who came out to Kerrville. Kristina’s triathlon buddies (Aixa, Orissa, Shelly, and Linda), and their families. Thank you Kristina for all the pointers, advice, coaching, and for the Big Sexy Racing suit. It meant a lot to have you and Trent on the sideline.

And an even bigger thank you to Maria for her support and encouragement all along the way. Thanks for taking those swim videos, for encouraging me to get that beautiful neon-green bike, and for always being there in the cheering crew. And finally, I’m in a new age-group next year…woohoo!

Practice swim on Saturday

Triumphant coming out of the water!

I'm so proud of Dad's matchy matchy here - bike, kit, helmet!

On the run!

Family and friends came out to cheer: Lisa, Mom, Me, Shelly and Avery, Harper, Trent, and Miles

Pre-race pic: Mom and Dad

Leadville Trail 100: Pace Report

Earlier this summer, Whiting mentioned that her husband, Doug, was going to be racing the Leadville 100 Trail Race for the fourth time, and she asked if Trent and I had any interest in pacing him. Any interest? Are you kidding?! We jumped at the chance to be involved in this iconic event: a 100 mile ultrarun that begins and ends in Leadville, Colorado, the highest incorporated city in the United States, sitting at 10,200 feet above sea level.

Even though Doug had sent detailed instructions for pacing, Trent and I really didn’t have any idea what we were doing when we drove up to the mountains on Saturday morning. We met Whiting and the rest of the crew in Twin Lakes, which is where one of the checkpoints is located. We left my car in Twin Lakes, jumped into Whiting’s car, and headed to Winfield, which was the turnaround point of this out-and-back race.

Doug's detailed instructions for my leg.

The moment I stepped out onto the dirt road to walk with our supplies to the checkpoint to meet Doug, I realized we had entered crazytown. The race started at 4:00 on Saturday morning. By the time we arrived in Winfield, 50 miles away from the start, the runners had been out on the course for 12 hours. Twelve hours...and they were halfway through. As we unpacked our gear and stood around waiting for Doug to arrive, I began to learn more about what this journey entails.

Each runner has a Crew Chief. Doug’s was Whiting. This person is in charge of meeting up with the runner at each checkpoint and providing fresh shoes, clothes, food, drink, and support. She was also in charge of Doug’s pacing crew. Once a runner reaches the halfway point, they can have a pacer to run along with them, keep them company, remind them to eat and drink, and basically do whatever it takes to get them to the checkpoints along the course before the time cutoffs. Doug had 4 pacers: Trent, me, Maggie, and Ariana. Each of us would take a section of the course after mile 50.

I still can’t wrap my head around what it means to run 100 miles in a row. The Leadville course record is somewhere around 16 hours. The final cutoff is 30 hours. I've completed more than a couple of ironman races around the 15-hour range. I cannot fathom completing that and then TURNING AROUND AND RUNNING BACK. This is what these athletes intended to do.

I was told that less than 50% of the ~700 entrants finish the race each year. As I watched the runners entering the halfway checkpoint at mile 50, I started to understand why. Nobody looked cute or happy. By that point, they had been running for at least 12 hours. They had crossed over a mountain pass (Hope Pass), where they were rained and hailed on. They were having stomach issues, likely from the heat and altitude. Most of them looked miserable and hopeful at the same time as they ran into the checkpoint at Winfield.

We stood waiting for Doug to come around the corner. And waited. And waited. Waited until his expected arrival time had come and gone. Waited until there were only 15 minutes left before the 6:30 pm time cutoff. And then he came running around the corner, and we all cheered. Yelled at him to hurry up and cross the timing mat to make sure he was officially within the time cutoff. Trent carried a backpack containing food, water, and gear for both of them, and they ran away again, up and over Hope Pass, back toward the town of Twin Lakes where they had to arrive before the cutoff time of 10 pm.

Doug accompanied by Trent, Whiting, and Melina, their daughter.

We learned that Doug had arrived at the checkpoint 45 minutes later than expected because this year's course had 2 extra miles added to the Hope Pass segment. They didn't adjust the Winfield time cutoff to account for the extra distance. On terrain where it takes 30 minutes to hike a mile, this was kind of a big deal. It meant that many athletes ended their day at Winfield. It meant that Doug would spend the rest of the race chasing time cutoffs.

Maggie is pointing at Hope Pass from Winfield.

While Trent ran with Doug, the rest of the crew headed back to the cabin in Leadville to grab something to eat. Then we headed over to the Twin Lakes checkpoint, where I would take over pacing duties. We had the same stressful waiting situation there. We stood in the dark with a hundred other crews, waiting next to our little makeshift changing area that had a folding chair for Doug to sit in, warm clothes and dry shoes for him to change into, and supplies to take with us. Shivering in a beanie, tights, gloves, and 3 shirts, I became more nervous by the minute. Nervous that Doug would not make the cutoff, and nervous that he would make it, and that I'd really have to run off into the dark and pace him for five hours. With less than three minutes to spare, Doug came sprinting into the checkpoint. Trent had pushed him to his limit, but he had made the cutoff!

After a quick transition, Doug and I were off and running. Well, hiking. At this point, it was 10 pm and Doug had been racing for 16 hours. And we were walking straight up a gravel hill. As I huffed and puffed, Doug nonchalantly said, "this part lasts about 4 miles, and then it levels out a bit." As we climbed, the air temperature dropped. Eventually we could see each breath in the light of our headlamps.

We stopped every few minutes for Doug to take water from the hydration pack that I was wearing. He was great about remembering to eat. We paid attention to the time; we had to be at the Half Pipe checkpoint by 1:15 am. It took us nearly 3 hours to hike/walk/run/shuffle the 8.5 miles that it took to get there. We arrived with 10 minutes to spare.

We needed to complete our next 6 mile segment by 3 am. A 16 minute mile pace is what was necessary, and although that sounds easy, it wasn't. When we were "fast hiking" we went at a 16:30ish pace. When we were running, we ran 11:30s.

I learned that Doug moves faster when he's talking, especially when he's talking about Whiting and his girls, but as we continued into the night, there were longer silences. When my legs became tired after several hours, I couldn't possibly complain, because Doug had been on his feet for nearly a day. There were green glowsticks tied to the trees to guide us, and we ran from glowstick to glowstick, willing each other to move forward.

In the 14.5 miles that I traveled with Doug, we ran/hiked on singletrack trail, jeep paths and asphalt. The final mile was across a prairie dog field, where we had to be aware of holes we might fall in. The course seemed beautiful, but of course I couldn't see it. Every once in a while I glanced up at the sky, and beyond the glow of my headlamp I saw the brightest stars I've ever seen. The experience of running at night in the middle of nowhere was surreal and beautiful.

The night sky. Photo by Daniel Benjamin Morefield, a local photographer who was camping at Twin Lakes.

As we approached the final mile of our leg, we knew we'd make the cutoff, and we arrived at the Outward Bound checkpoint with 5 minutes to spare. Maggie and Whiting ran out to the middle of the field to greet us with hot chocolate and warm ramen noodles. It was 3 am. Maggie took over pacing duties, and Whiting drove me back to the cabin to sleep.

We knew that Maggie's section would be a challenge because it covered some difficult terrain and Doug had no time to spare to slow down. He needed to arrive at the May Queen checkpoint by 6:30 am. He didn't get there in time, and after 87 miles, the race officials at May Queen cut his wristband.

Doug: Ultrarunner Extraordinaire

This is the part where the mindset of ultrarunning, especially at this distance, diverges from your typical road running/triathlon point of view. You don't enter Leadville and say "I just want to finish." You say, "I wonder how far I can get." Doug made it almost to the end, and he was satisfied with his race. He's finished the race twice before, so he knows exactly what it takes: training, planning, discipline, and luck. He'll definitely attempt it again, and I hope my pacing skills were good enough to get me a return trip to Leadville with Whiting, Doug, and family.

I left Leadville on Sunday feeling sore, tired, and completely inspired. Although I've learned to enjoy trail running, there has never been anything appealing to me about ultrarunning...until this weekend. As we were leaving the cabin on Sunday, I told Whiting that I wanted to try a trail race. I think she surprised both of us by agreeing that she'd like to try one too. So of course, the next logical step was for both of us to sign up for a 50k at the end of September! I'm so excited to be excited to have something new to train for. There's no expectations because this will be our first one, and I love that. I can't wait!

I've told them a few times but I want to say it again here: I'm so grateful that Whiting and Doug invited us to join them this weekend. It was such a powerful experience and has opened a new chapter of things to come. When we signed up for the 50k today, I felt giddy with excitement and fear. I haven't felt this inspired in a while, and I love it. Hopefully I'll have a great race report for you in approximately 6 weeks!

Love the Process

Monday has only one redeeming quality: it’s my rest day. Last Monday, I was so grateful to have a rest day that I almost said “I love Mondays” out loud. The previous week had been really frustrating, with notes like this in my workout log:

• Wednesday: Gave up after 39 mins on the trainer feeling nauseated and sluggish.
• Thursday: Masters. Lots of kick with fins and pulling with paddles today, which saved me because I couldn't keep up with the lane. Still very tired. 
• Friday: I'm still feeling sluggish and crappy, and frustrated! 
• Sunday (after my “easy run with friends” in San Antonio was far more difficult than expected): I thought it was supposed to be easier to run at sea level now. (sad face). 

I was filled with self-doubt. Maybe I’m getting too old for this. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to get up at 4:45 to go to the pool and then struggle to keep up with my lane at Masters. I don’t want to do a hard treadmill run after a long day at work. I just want to sleep. Why am I struggling on an easy trainer ride? Everything is hard. Nothing is easy. I’m getting slower, not faster! What’s the point? I’m terrible at this! I'm tired of being the slowest one here! What’s wrong with me?!

It wasn't an easy run, but it was so wonderful to run with Orissa, Linda, and Brian on one of my favorite old routes.

Social media didn’t help. I have a couple of friends who are struggling with burnout and have been quite vocal about it over the last few months. They've been in the sport for years, and suddenly they’re talking about how it’s not fun to race anymore, how they’re over it, how they need to figure out how to get the joy back. These people are usually the ones posting the most positive, inspirational, joy-filled pictures and updates about how they love training and the sport. If they’re burned out, I don’t have a chance.

Thank goodness for the well-timed comments of a couple of friends who didn’t even know they were positively influencing my frame of mind. This time, social media helped me out quite a bit: Thanks, Strava, Instagram, and Facebook!

Last Sunday, Whiting, who is also training for Boulder, posted a workout on Strava and commented “Only 6 more weeks til Ironman Boulder!” A lightbulb went off. OF COURSE! This is how you’re supposed to feel 6 weeks out from the race. Although I feel ridiculous for not recognizing it after years of doing this, and going through the same thing EVERY TIME, the realization brought such relief.

In the middle of last week, Ariana, who's training for St. George 70.3 on the way to Ironman Boulder just like I am, posted on Instagram about feeling the struggle between walking a line between working so hard that it will be impossible to recover and working so little that you'll be sluggish on race day. Her post was exactly what I needed to read: I’m not the only one struggling physically and mentally here.

I think Ariana's photo says it all.

And Coach Marilyn Chychota posted on Facebook exactly the reminder that I needed (I'm paraphrasing): there is no easy button for Ironman. It's just weeks and months and years of chipping away. You need to build a foundation, it's not glamorous, and to be successful, you have to love the process. YES.

Although my workouts this week were much improved from the week before, I’m still incredibly tired. But my state of mind is vastly improved. On a run this weekend with my new training buddy Julie, I talked about how tired I’ve been. She asked, “Isn’t Boulder in about 6 weeks? Yep. Makes sense that you’re tired now.” It’s funny that we can easily recognize these things in others, but it’s so hard to have perspective when you’re thinking about yourself.

Lessons Learned!

• Understand what’s normal. Ironman training is hard, and in every cycle you (meaning me, but also the universal you) reach a point where you’re tired, sluggish, grouchy, fat, and lacking motivation. It will pass. 
• Talk to your friends/training partners. Knowing that others are going through the same thing helps! It was so validating to read Ariana’s post last week, and to talk to Julie about it this weekend. 
• Talk to your coach. This should probably be the first thing on the list, but not everyone has a coach. For those of you who do – tell them how you’re feeling. They can modify your workouts to help you through the rough patch. Emily will give me two workouts: the “I’m feeling better” workout, or the alternate “I’m feeling crappy” workout. She is sure to tell me to be honest with myself about how I’m actually feeling. 
• Find inspiration. Get out your go-to music, choose a favorite route, invite a favorite training buddy…whatever it takes to get you motivated to make the workout happen! 
• Get started. I learned this one from Dawn at a time when we were both struggling personally, and, like so many lessons, it works beyond the sport. Just get started. Get in the car and drive to the pool. Or get on the bike on the trainer. Or lace up your running shoes and walk outside. Say, “I’m just going to do the warmup and then I’ll see what happens.” Nine times out of 10, you’ll do the whole workout, and you’ll feel better physically and mentally afterward. And, that one time that you walked into the gym, got changed to swim, walked over to the pool, and turned around and walked right back out? Well, you probably needed the rest that day. :)

When Shelly and I first started running together years ago, our mantra was, “I can do anything for 5 minutes.” We’d keep on running, and 5 minutes would turn into 10 or 15. We used to joke that once we got into Ironman training, our go-to phrase became, “I can do anything for two hours.” I’ll modify it just slightly again and say: “I can do anything for six weeks.” The countdown to Boulder begins!

Joshua Tree has been my go-to inspiration for years, starting when I was 18 and
trying to lose the college "freshman 15." Mom took me to the gym with her each
morning that summer, and I walked on the treadmill listening to this cassette on a
yellow Sony Walkman. This music still works its magic today on the treadmill,
and I'm happy to report that I'm moving quite a bit faster than I was back then!

Little Fish

It’s been just over two months since we moved to Denver, and I’m starting to settle in. I’m confident I won’t get lost driving to work in the morning (although if it’s snowing, I might still cry when I get there). I have a favorite running route and bike route. I know the times that the rec center pool is available for lap swimming. I even have new friends to do some of this stuff with! Although a comfort zone is developing, I’m still learning something new every day. The benefit is that when everything is new and different, it becomes easier to do things that scare you.

Swim
In San Antonio, I had great excuses for not swimming Masters. It costs extra to join. The gym that has a Masters program isn’t close to where I live. The times don’t work with my schedule. But mostly, I’m scared that it will be too hard. When we joined the local rec center here, I was excited and nervous to see that they have a Masters program. I talked with my coach and she encouraged me to go. Guess what – I loved it! During that first session on a Saturday morning, as my arms turned to noodles, I watched in awe as the guys in the fast lane raced by. Maybe I can be in that lane one day…

Every Thursday morning's "chance at greatness" happens here. 

A couple of months later, I’m hooked. I have Masters on the schedule once a week, and I look forward to it like nothing else. The competition and camaraderie in the pool are making me a better swimmer. The on-deck coaching is invaluable. For these reasons, I’m happy to be up before 5 on Thursday mornings to get in the pool.

Bike
Trent is eager to find every bike route in the Denver Metro area, and the best way to do that has been to join a cycling club! We are now proud, card-carrying members of the Rocky Mountain Cycling Club, a group of roadies who love to ride for hours up mountains. Each time I’ve ridden with them, I’m the weakest one in the group. But each time we ride, I feel myself getting stronger, and maybe they get ahead of me a little less each time. I have to work hard to keep up. My desire to stay with the group on weekend rides leads me to work just that much harder on trainer rides during the week. Pushing myself during those long weekend rides to try not to get dropped is helping me build mental toughness that I know will pay dividends on race day.

Our first ride with the RMCC.

Run
Same story with running – on the one group run that Trent and I did, I was the last one to finish. But it was a great experience, and I'll be back again for the next one if they'll have me. Every time we run trails I face the fears of tripping, falling, walking, giving up. All of this is making me stronger.

Challenges
This new experience has had its challenges. Of course there's the altitude: it's been a learning experience finding a new normal at 5280 feet. My heart rate is coming around, but sometimes when my legs just feel dead, I still can't tell if it's because of the altitude, because I'm tired, or because I didn't fuel right. It's frustrating. Nutrition and hydration have been a problem too - in cold weather, it's easy to put off drinking water. I keep choosing not to eat because it's hard to get to food in your pocket with thick gloves on. Then it's too late and you've dug yourself into a hole and ruined the ride or run. I'm learning every day.

Last weekend's group run - we'll definitely be back.

Although it can be discouraging to feel like I’m back at square one, to be in a place where everyone is better than me, it’s also a total recharge to be the Little Fish in a Big Sea. Remember what it was like when you were just getting started, to think, I just did that! I can do that! What else can I do? It’s motivating to feel like a newbie, to feel like the possibilities are endless.

This move was the shot in the arm that I needed when I was feeling a little bit stuck. If you’re like me, and you need an excuse to break the cycle of excuses, you don’t even have to move away from home. Just take a step or two outside of your comfort zone. Try swimming Masters. Ride with someone who’s faster than you. Run with a group that you don’t usually run with. Be the Little Fish. I promise it’s worth it.

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!

Don't Quit

Three weeks to Ironman Louisville.

I didn't set myself up for a successful long run today. With two endurance athletes in the house and an every-other-weekend visitation schedule with Trent's boys, our Sundays have become a long-run juggling act. Today, I agreed to run later in the morning and Trent went early. This means that when I started my run at 9:45 am, it was already 85 degrees outside and the sun was beating down without a cloud in the sky. Not to mention I'm tired from a cold that keeps lingering enough to make me nervous, a long week at work, a tough bike/run yesterday, and a little too much wine last night. Ok, there's all the excuses.

I drove to one of my favorite trailheads on the Salado Creek Greenway at Tobin Park. The workout was to run easy for 30 minutes, push it up to zone 2-2.5 for an hour, and then to run easy for the last 30 minutes.

The first half hour was fine. It was shady and breezy as I ran slowly down the greenway, shaking out a tight left calf/ankle. Then I ran into the full sun up the hill on the way to McAllister Park. A cyclist came by me, "it sure is hot out here." I thought, yep, it's hot. I'm not going to make it out here in the full sun for two hours.

After 45 minutes, I decided to turn around and head back to the car. An hour and a half would be fine. I had already run some extra miles this week. No big deal. My heart rate was in zone 2 without even trying due to the heat. I felt the sweat dripping down my face, thought I'd probably run out of water before I got back. Decided that my head was likely getting sunburned. All these great reasons to just cut it short today.

As I ran back towards the start, I started thinking about a conversation that Dawn and I had yesterday. I know I haven't been training with the heart and dedication that I need to accomplish the goals that I have in mind. Cut one workout short here, relax on the efforts a little bit there...and you end up not progressing, feeling stagnant instead.

That's how I've been feeling since Norseman - stuck. I gave up on the run at Norseman because I wasn't going to reach my goal of a black shirt. I was feeling pain, but I've felt pain on the run at every ironman and I have been able to push through it with a smile. I Gave Up at Norseman, and it doesn't feel good.

Giving up during training just allows you to give up more easily on race day. I've been stronger than that before. I can do it again.

Running back into the shade, I made a decision to run up to one of the trailheads and grab some more water, just in case I didn't give up. A mile later, I took my third Gu, just in case I decided to run past my car. One mile later, I ran purposely past my car thinking, "F you car, I have a run to finish."

Every step you take after choosing not to quit is a victory.

I'm not always super stoked about how I'm feeling in my Newtons, but man, I love these shoes.

I felt so good, so proud of myself for every minute that I ran in the opposite direction from my car. A slow run, but I was so happy to be finishing what I started that it didn't matter how slow I was running. Eventually I reached my turnaround point, and then I smiled all the way back to the car. Two-hour long run complete...11 slow little miles. It felt like racing - smiling through discomfort. I've missed that feeling.

I'm not sure what's going to happen in 3 weeks at Ironman Louisville. But I know that today's workout was a mental breakthrough that will allow me to endure on the run in Kentucky. I can't wait.

Today's run may have been a struggle, but yesterday's ride with Linda was awesome!

Norseman 2016 Race Report

It Gets Into Your Soul
Shopping in the expo on Thursday before the race, I noticed a woman agonizing over whether to buy a jacket emblazoned with the Norseman logo. "I'm afraid I'll jinx it," she said to her husband. I couldn't help jumping in. "Buy the jacket. It doesn't say Finisher on it. You won't jinx anything." She laughed and replied, "We deserve the jacket just for having the balls to show up here!"

My new friend Basia and I started talking, and I revealed that it was my second time racing here. She joked that I must be crazy. As I tried to explain myself, another woman standing nearby spoke up quietly, "I was here in 2014 also, as support. After that day, I knew I had to do the race. It takes over your mind - it gets into your soul."

What an accurate description of what happens here at Norseman. I came back this year with the goal of earning a black T-shirt. But I also came back hoping to achieve something else. In 2014, my eyes were opened to an international community of athletes who boldly chase their dreams across the world, who have a true, deep love for the sport of triathlon, who are not content to stay safely at home, doing the usual. Being around that kind of energy makes you want to go out and really live your life.

My eyes fill with tears as I type this. To quote Basia at Sunday's T-shirt ceremony, "I'm so emotional, I feel like I just had a baby." It's almost bewildering how powerful the experience is.

Swim
After watching a 10-day forecast that showed beautiful weather for race day, in typical Norwegian fashion, the night before the race, a cold front began to blow in. As Dad and I set up my bike in the transition area, I noticed noisy waves lapping against the dock. I've never seen the fjord in anything but serene, calm conditions. My stomach flipped over a little, but I brushed it off.

The swim course looking much calmer the day before the race.

The 2.4 mile ferry ride was fun - I sat with 4 new friends and we exchanged stories of previous races and laughed about how we looked forward to eating junk food and drinking Coke on the bike. At about 4:45 am, we walked downstairs in time to be sprayed with cold sea water to ready our bodies for the shock of the cold water (57 degrees). We watched the mouth of the ferry dramatically open, and then jumped off into the unusually choppy water.

Ten minutes later, the horn went off. As we had been directed at the pre-race meeting, I swam along the shoreline; there is a tide against you on this swim, and swimming against the shoreline helps to minimize its effect. When you see the twinkling lights of Eidfjord, you know you'll soon make the right turn towards town, then you swim around one buoy and take a left turn to cut across towards Swim Out. I was swimming with a small group of 3 or 4, and as we made the turn towards the town, the choppy water became more turbulent. The tide was pushing from one direction and the wind came from the other, creating swells and chop that I knew would be against my face on my breathing side after I swam around the buoy.

...if I could ever make it to the buoy. I felt like I would never reach it. I lost contact with the group I was swimming with. I struggled against the water to pull myself towards town. I started to feel tightness in my back that I haven't felt since I was a baby swimmer years ago in Boerne Lake. When I finally turned at the buoy, the water overwhelmed me. I stopped every few strokes just to get my bearings. I swallowed water and choked on seaweed. I knew I was in the water longer than my predicted 1:10 swim.

When I finally reached Swim Out, a crew member offered his hand to help me stand up. As I stood, an enormous cramp shot through my calf, and I dropped back into the water, surprised. He asked me if I was ok, but my leg kept cramping and I couldn't stand up. As I just laid there, helpless, he asked if I needed medical assistance. That got me moving and I made an effort to grab his hand and move towards the shore.

Dad tried to calm me in T1, but when I saw my swim time (1:32), my heart sank. I felt the black T-shirt goal slipping away. Emily, my coach, has been telling me all week to stop thinking about the black shirt and to focus on the process instead. So I focused on the process of getting dressed for the bike. It worked. After a swift T1, I rode out onto the course.

T1: Notice that most of the bikes are gone already.

Bike
Rule #1: Have swim amnesia. Once you're done with the swim, remove it from your mind and focus on the task at hand. The task was to ride smart and save energy for the hills in the second part of the course. As I rode up the first 25-mile climb out of Eidfjord, I took note of how my body was feeling. My arms, back, and sides were sore from the swim. My legs felt like they were struggling to turn over the pedals. The wind whipped around me - the rain that would pelt us for the entire bike ride hadn't started yet, but the temperature wouldn't go above 47 degrees all day.

After 7 miles of being seriously freaked out about how hard this bike ride was, I rode around a corner into a break from the wind. In the quiet of that stretch, I could hear my front brake rubbing loudly against my wheel. SERIOUSLY!? I tried to adjust it, but ended up just opening the brake caliper as a temporary fix. Immediately I felt relief, and started laughing. As a rule, I take a moment to check the brakes every time I leave T1. Not today - what a rookie mistake.

The climb out of Eidfjord was lonely. I didn't know my placement in the race, but I knew it wasn't as good as I would have liked. Nevertheless, I remained focused on process, riding within myself, eating and drinking small amounts every few minutes, and enjoying the ENORMOUS TAILWIND that would follow us all day. This year, both the male and female winners set new course records for a reason. The blasting wind was literally pushing us down the bike course.

As I reached the top of the first climb to Dyranut, it began to rain. I'd made plans to meet up with my support at a particular location, and as I rode along I noticed other cyclists pulled over getting dressed for the cold of the day. I was in arm warmers, leg warmers, and my tri kit at this point, but I wasn't feeling cold yet. Once I met up with Mom and Dad and put on Trent's amazing Castelli Gabba jacket and my new Castelli Diluvio neoprene gloves, I was toasty warm as I hit the plateau. This clothing saved my day. I learned later that more than a few people DNFed due to hypothermia on the bike. Although my feet soon became numb, my hands and core were warm, and I felt unstoppable.

Windy, cold plateau.

On the plateau, I was happy to settle into my aerobars and stretch out my back, which was still sore from the swim. But as the ride progressed, discomfort in my lower back became pain, and by the time I approached the halfway point, I was asking for Motrin. I took at least 12 Motrin over the course of the day, and when we ran out of that, I started taking Mom's Excedrin. I took the pills at the top of each of 5 climbs and hoped that the pain in my back would subside, but it just wouldn't. I stood to stretch my back, rode in my aerobars uphill when I could - I did whatever I could do to ease the pain without getting off my bike, but nothing worked.

Climb, climb, climb.

At some point, my shifting went bad and my chain was squeaking loudly in protest with every pedal stroke. I thought, "I wonder what will break first, my chain or my back?" I went through some dark moments - I had a near miss with a car that was impatient to pass on the narrow road, and I started hoping a car would hit me so that I could have an excuse to stop riding.

I stayed as focused as possible on the process and was surprised and happy to see that I was hitting the right power and heart rate numbers on both the climbs and the flats. I'm a much stronger cyclist than I was two years ago, and that is really fun to see. As I approached the top of the final climb, I heard someone else's support tell his athlete, "You are number 168." WHAT?! I may still be in this? That was all I needed to push the final 20 miles downhill to T2. I had practiced this entire descent a few days earlier, and knowing where the turns and bumps were really paid off. I had a strong final hour on the bike, which, aided by the tailwind, resulted in a bike split that was 37 minutes faster than in 2014. I even passed several people on my way into town. (Bike split: 8:15)

Run
After the fastest T2 that I could manage, I hurried out onto the run course and looked excitedly at the crew member who would show me my position in the race. As I ran by on frozen stump feet, my heart sank: the paper read 201. I must have misunderstood what the man at the top of Imingfjell was saying, or he was lying to his athlete to keep him moving.

T2: Dad tried to protect me from view as I was changing, but Mom took the photo from the other side. Haha

This is where experience worked against me. I had been in a similar position starting the run in 2014, and even though I picked off a ton of runners that year, experience told me that I wouldn't be able to pass 41 people to get to the mile 20 cutoff in time for a black shirt. Hope had kept me racing the last 20 miles of the bike, but now that was gone. I was still determined to run as fast as I could, but because of the pain in my back, this wasn't particularly fast. First, I bargained with myself that I could walk up hills, but I had to run the rest of the time. That deteriorated into "run 30 steps, walk 10," which is what I did until I hit Zombie Hill at mile 15. My parents were amazing all day, but during this run, their support was everything to me, and every time I saw them parked a little way up the road, I was able to run a few more steps.

The run course became sunny and beautiful as the day went on!

Finally, we arrived at Zombie Hill. I said to Dad, "Who looks forward to Zombie Hill so that they can walk?" He replied enthusiastically, "We do!!" Mom drove the car up the hill and Dad and I started our 4-mile trek up the 10% grade hill. It may be strange to hear that that was my favorite part of the run course - walking up that hill at a 12:00-18:00/mile average felt almost soothing to my back, and Dad's positive chatter helped me forget the pain.

Even though I felt like I was moving at a snail's pace, I passed a bunch of people and we moved into position 188 by the cutoff at just about 14 hours. The time was well within the 14:30 limit, but of course the placement was not good enough to go up the mountain. I was really happy to have arrived at the cutoff a few places and minutes higher than last time.

As we made the left turn towards the white T-shirt finish line, I tried to muster the enthusiasm to at least beat my overall time from the previous year. We could do it if we ran. But I couldn't. We started running the downhills and walking the uphills, but that deteriorated again into just walking as fast as we could. I was annoyed to notice that I was doing the thing that you always see on Ironman videos of people when they're exhausted: leaning over sideways as I was running. At about mile 22, an innocent little cattle guard became an almost insurmountable obstacle, as my back threatened to lock up when I tried to walk across it.

This year's white T-shirt finish was a small loop that you had to do 10 times; you earned a punch on a card each time you passed a checkpoint. So we walked/jogged/shuffled 10 times past the finish line before we actually got to cross it - Dad and I were both cramping and exhausted when we finally crossed the line together at 15:50:26.

Dad completed the last 10 miles of the run with me - of course he should cross the finish line too.

I immediately fell into Mom's arms and started crying like a little baby. Then Dad and I were both offered a cup of the traditional, delicious finish line soup. A crew member snapped a couple of quick photos, and then we walked over to our little cabin that was located right there on the run course. It was about 9 pm. We'd hear the cheers for people finishing until after midnight.

T-Shirt Ceremony
The next day, I was sort of dreading how I'd feel when I saw everyone walking around in their black T-shirts. Instead, as I walked in to get my second white shirt, the first person I saw was Basia and her family. "I finished at midnight! It was amazing!" she exclaimed, and gestured that we should take a picture. This was what I needed to remind me what this race is all about. The black shirt would have been icing on a beautiful cake. This white shirt represents breaking through limits, perseverance, determination, and doing your best under extreme conditions. I'm proud to wear it.

My new friend Basia at the T-shirt ceremony.

Found this while looking for pics of the race on Instagram. If this doesn't inspire you, I don't know what will.

Claim to fame: Norseman used my photo on Instagram!

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I'm so grateful that I was given the opportunity to race Norseman a second time. Not many people get to do that, and I know how lucky I am! If I lived closer, I know I'd want to be one of those people who gets the green 5X-finisher T-shirt, or the pink 10X-finisher T-shirt. There is simply nothing like the ridiculous challenge of this race.

Two 10x Finishers! 

Once again, I walk away from Norseman with new friends who inspire me. Basia, who never stopped smiling and celebrating. Jenna, who achieved an ironman PR (who does that?!) and won the white shirt race. Crew member Bent, who provided relentless positivity all day, starting with spraying us with a hose on the ferry, to directing traffic on the bike course, to cheering and running with us up to the finish line at the end of the day. The spirit of this event will stay with me for years.

I want to say an enormous thank you to everyone for your encouragement, cheers and support. Thank you to my awesome teammates on the Big Sexy Racing team for inspiring me every day and to our sponsors who helped get me through the day at Norseman: blueseventy, Newton, Cobb Cycling! Thank you to Matt, Greg, and everyone at Bicycle Heaven for helping me pack up my bike to get it safely to Norway, and for teaching me effectively how to put it back together again. Thank you to Trent who always knows exactly what to say, and to my amazing friends who believe in me so much! Thank you to Halvard Berg for all the advice - in particular, the jacket and gloves on the bike saved my day. At his request, I'm throwing out the call as well - let's get more American women to sign up and race this race of a lifetime! Thank you to the leadership and crew of the Norseman Xtreme Triathlon for dreaming up and providing an incredible event that just gets better year after year. Thank you to my coach, Emily, for the guidance in this process; I'm looking forward to what comes next. And of course, thank you to Mom and Dad, my incredible crew, who made every part of this happen. My heart is full! Thank you for reading.

My amazing crew.