Gasparilla Distance Classic Race Report

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25.5 miles in 2 days. Sounds daunting, right. How about 25.5 miles in 2 days when you're severely under trained and haven't done jack since Ironman Florida in November of 2013? Even scarier! Nonetheless I tied up my shoes, filled my pockets with GU and faced the task at hand.

In between the 15K and 5K on day 1

I had been traveling for work all week and flew into Orlando to meet Mike (who was also down there for work). We traveled up to Tampa on Friday where thankfully we've got some friends who let us crash at their place! We headed to the Expo Friday afternoon and to my surprise it was huge! I had no idea how big this race was. We waited in line for our numbers and then headed over to the t-shirt pick up where we got not 1 but 3 shirts and a jacket (Mike got 4 and a jacket because he did the 8K as well). After a quick walk of the expo we headed to Publix to stock up on gatorade, granola bars and other needed items to get through the next 2 days.

5am came early on Saturday as we geared up for the first part of our two day running journey. Both Mike and I knew we didn't want to burn our matches so to speak so we decided to run together to keep the pace a bit slower ... ok slower for Mike but normal for me. Parking and getting to the start was quite easy, much easier than I had anticipated knowing how many people were participating. Because of our distance classic numbers we were able to get in the front of the corral for the 15k (and subsequently for all of the races). I popped a GU with about 5 minutes before the gun went off and then we were on our way. The course was flat which made me happy but also made my quads quite sore. I was able to keep a pretty decent pace for the vast majority of the 15k but also knew we still had another 3.1 to go once we crossed the finish line of the 15k. We hustled from one race to the next and didn't really skip a beat. Back into the corral we went, listened to the National Anthem and then was on our way for the final 3.1 miles of the day. I burned up (read: my legs started to die) around mile 2. Realizing I still had to put 13.1 miles in the bank the next day we took it down a notch and just trotted our way home. 12.4 miles for the day complete, two medals obtained. Not a bad Saturday morning.

Post race Mike and I headed home and I immediately popped into an icebath! While our miles for Saturday

holy moly thats cold

were complete, 13.1 still loomed nearly in the distance (and 18.1 for Mike!). We grabbed some lunch with our buddy, Adam and then promptly took naps! Dinner that night was over pretty early as our 4am wakeup call was going to be here soon enough.

rounding out final miles on day 2

4am the alarm blares. It's time to rise and shine and take on day 2. Thankfully for me, the icebath has soothed out most of my muscles and I'm not feeling much pain. We approached the race start again, in a little different spot this time, and waited as the National Anthem was sung again. This time, Mike and I knew we'd part ways as soon as the gun went off so we said our goodbyes and confirmed our meet up spot post race. Thankfully I only had one race, he had two. The first miles seemed to drag on. My legs felt dead and my mind aloof. As we ticked down the miles and headed back over the bridge, around mile 5, something clicked. My mind became focused. My legs no longer hurt. Ironman tunnel vision presented itself and I found myself lost in the music and running faster than before. I was back in business. The final 8 miles seemed to tick by quickly. I gave others encouragement who looked forlorn. I feed off the energy from others. I might even PR at this pace. As I approached mile 12 my legs started to ache. I knew that I was just a mile away from a goal that I didn't think was possible ... well especially since I hadn't trained since Ironman Florida! As I approached the finish, those still running the 8K were in the corral. I scanned the crowd for Mike and sure enough, I found him. A quick kiss and statement " I might PR!" and I was on my way.

With the finish line behind me, I got 2 more medals and walked, admittedly a little slow and with a grimace on my face, to where I was supposed to meet Mike (he had another 5 miles to go!). Overall, Gasparilla Distance Classic was great. The swag is great, the crowd support was nice and the course was flat. We'll be back for certain and it was just the jump-start I needed to somewhat throw my mind back into triathlon training!

#JustDoIt

I've been lacking in the motivation category lately. I've fallen victim to the "I just did an Ironman, I don't need to train for a 70.3, I've got this" mindset.

IT MUST CHANGE.
I must change it.
Mind over matter.

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2014 TRI Schedule

Been working on my race schedule for this year. It looks slightly different since I don't have an Ironman on the radar ... unless I get into the Kona Lottery ... so sticking to some shorter stuff and working on speed, different terrain (read: lots of hills) is what's on deck! 

May
Honu 70.3 (Kohala Coast, HI)
Distance: 70.3 Half Ironman
Pretty stoked to be headed to the Big Island to race this year! This may be my only chance to race out in Hawaii! 

June
Chattanooga Waterfront (Chattanooga, TN)
Distance: Olympic
Brutally hot race in Chattanooga with a pretty good swim! In 2013 the race got changed to a duathlon (first one of those I've done!) so my time this year will be more indicative of what I can really do in an OLY distance.

August
Lake Logan Olympic (Canton, NC)
Distance: Olympic
Debating between this race and another one (listed below). 
OR
Acworth Women's Sprint (Acworth, GA)
Distance: Sprint
Debating between this race and another one (listed above). 


October
IRONMAN 70.3 Miami (Miami Beach, FL)
Distance: 70.3 Half Ironman
Looking to change it up at the end of the year and head somewhere warm! Pretty flat course for the most part and a good OWS w/o waves! 

IMFL Race Report

3 months late on my IMFL Race Report but late is better than never, right? 

Pre Race
The first of the 3 alarms blared at about 4:30am but both my mind and body were awake long before then - I found it hard to quiet my thoughts throughout the night and early morning. Did my usual pre-morning routine: got dressed, potty, double checked my bags and then prepared my food. Stuck to the usual morning routine that got me though most of my training - 1 bagel thin covered in peanut butter and an orange gatorade.

Once coach and hubby got up and ready, we were on our way. Got to body marking about 1.5hrs before the start. It was utter chaos, but one of the coolest experiences ... something you only dream about after watching the prior year video . Once I got marked up, I headed to my bike to prepare my nutrition, check on my T1 bags and then found a quiet spot to finish getting ready. Thankfully, my coach dropped off my special needs bags for me which saved me some walking and energy. With about 45 minutes to go, I shimmied into my wetsuit and honed my final thoughts as the minutes waned down ... it was go time.

So thankful for my coach, Allen

Swim
As I said my goodbyes and walked under the TYR arch into the corral, I got teary eyed … I imagine a lot of us did! As agreed upon with my coach, I placed myself in back of 1:10 grouping. I stood there thinking about all the long days, early mornings, good and bad workouts and slowly the time ticked down. The National Anthem rang through my ears but my mind was elsewhere. It was focused on that big blue ocean ahead. I let the gun go off and waited until majority of the group was already in the water. The breakers were about 4 feet high to get through initially so I started to dolphin dive to get through the breakers which worked

well for me. I've never felt so many kicks, smacks, bites, pushes in my life as I drudged through the ocean swells to get onto a clear path to the buoys. My goal was draft and originally I was able to find people to draft off of but as soon as I caught a rhythm, they either sped up or I was going too fast and had to find someone else.  My sighting was spot on for the vast majority of the first lap which meant that others were now drafting off of me! My breathing and stroke for the first 1.2 miles was synchronized and just as it normally is in practice, for once, there was no panic in the water. I was eerily calm. As I made my way onto the beach and through the chute to get back in, I checked my watch … 39 minutes. I drank some water (probably too much) and walked/trotted down the beach to get back into the ocean blue. The breakers greeted me again, so back to dolphin diving was a must. By ½ way down the first set of buoys on lap 2, my stomach started to churn. I actually stopped at a kayak to get some water and rest for a moment to calm my mind and my heart rate, something I've never done or even thought about doing in a race before.  Once settled, I continued on and made it to the turn buoy where I knew I was going to be sick. With about 700m to go, the inevitable happened.  A kayak came to give me support, stabilization and some water. This was the only moment across 140.6 miles where I thought I might have to give up. After a quick pep talk from my kayak friend, I was back on my way and swimming with more vengeance than before. I knew I had lost quite some time on my second lap. I got to the shore and was relieved to be done. Checked my watch again … 1:45. Sheer disappointment but relief in the same.

my husband, Mike showing his support!

T1
Got my wetsuit halfway down and then waited for the “strippers”. What I wish I knew was to not stop … you sit down in the sand to have your wetsuit stripped leaving you ALL sandy! Nonetheless I was out of my wetsuit in rapid time and on my way to T1. Getting out of the water a bit later than expected allowed for a cleaner path (read: less people) through T1 to get my bag and into the changing tent. With the help of an awesome volunteer I was able to get the sand off of me, get some sprite to settle my stomach (packed in my special needs bag) and get geared up for the bike. What I thought was a long time really turned out to be only 7 minutes from water exit to bike out.

Bike
As I rounded the corner to find my rack, my coach was there with encouraging words as I barked  “I puked in the water, sorry my time sucked”. All I got back in response was some encouraging words, a smile and promise to see him on the run. I got my bike and was on my way. I took into account something Mirinda Carfrae said at the pre-race dinner …. Basically that you have to think of the race as 3 separate events.  If something happens during the first part, move past it and start over with the next. I took that to heart in the moment as I was sincerely disappointed with my swim time but knew I had a long read ahead to finish the

race. As I got on my bike and headed out, I passed my husband and a surprise visitor, my friend from Atlanta…quite the moral boost! Unfortunately, head winds were dealt to us for about 80 miles of the 112 mile ride. As I made my way through the flats, up and down the ‘hills’ I watched the miles tick off knowing that I could keep going thanks to the training I put in. The roads are boring and its quiet out there. Trying to not draft off others actually becomes a bit of a game. I stayed with a few people for most of the ride but as I progressed on, some of them couldn't hang. I went to the bathroom right before Special Needs which was right on schedule. At Special Needs I picked up some more nutrition, advil, sprite, sunscreen and another fun pep talk! The back 56 miles are a bit tougher than the first 56 but nonetheless, I survived. My speed significantly increased as I got closer to transition as I picked up a nice tailwind for the last 15 miles or so. As I got to about 5 miles away, I realized my dream of becoming an Ironman and all my hard work WOULD pay off. I knew that with my bike time, combined with my swim that I had almost 8 hrs left to complete the marathon! 

T2
As I rode down Thomas Dr. a smile as big as Texas came on my face. I talked to spectators, laughed and cheered others on. A nice volunteer took my bike and another handed me my T2 bag. As I headed back into the changing tent, I was greeted by another amazing volunteer who gave me a quick massage, helped me get organized, got me lathered in sunscreen and gave some encouraging words. Another ‘quick’ transition in the books and I was on my way.

Run
As I made my way out of the transition maze, I met up with 2 other awesome athletes ... of which I'd both start and finish my marathon with! I told myself to take it slow and steady, just like training. It's hard to not get caught up in the crowd motivation the first few miles as the streets of the IMFL run course are loaded with cheering fans providing abounding support where they call you by name (thankfully they aren't stalkers ... your name is on your bib!). My training has prepared me to run 4x2s for a sustained period of time and mileage. I stuck to that plan, and with the other girls for about a mile until toughness set in. Thankfully around that same time I spotted my husband and some other friends, a much needed boost in energy and support from some familiar faces! As coach always said, if you can't run you better walk angry. That's just what I did. I ran when I could, walked when I had to but at the end of the day I kept moving forward and ticking off miles. As the time went on and the miles ticked away towards the first turnaround in the state park, the

nauseous feeling in my stomach grew. At mile 5 I found my coach who told me throw up whatever I could and move on. Thankfully, puking doesn't bother me so that's just what I did. Once I got that out of my system I was good as gold. By mile 6 I was back to my nutrition plan and moving faster than before. Seeing my coach a bunch on the run course helped me stay focused. My nutrition was spot on as was my pace. I made my way to special needs in about 3hrs and was ready to conquer the final 13.1 miles. With another boost and cheer from my husband and fellow athlete friend, Chris (who had already finished), I was on my way. My pace quickened and I was making better time than before. By mile 19 my IT bands started to sound off. I quickly went back to my serious angry walk and to my surprise, passed more people with my walk than when I was running. As I rounded to mile 24, I saw the girls I had started the run with. I hung with them the final 2 miles of the race, pretty cool if you ask me. We made the final turn and headed into the chute together. It was surreal to say the least as I slowed and let them go ahead so we could all have our own time to shine coming through the finishers chute. The hard work, dedication and endless hours of training were finally coming to an end. The time had come for me to take my turn, to walk under the finishers arch and to be given my well deserved medal. With a time of 15:11, I was officially an Ironman.

While I think I could have come in under 15 hours if the sickness didn't hit me in the water, I'm grateful for every twist and turn I was dealt in the day. You never know what will happen, but all you can do is use your training and the mental toughness developed during the journey. 

Wait with baited breath ....

While my Ironman Florida journey is complete ... my race report is not :) I've been super busy with unpacking/repacking and work that I haven't had time to write it but fear not, it will come.

Augusta 70.3 Race Report

Pre-Race 

My attitude wasn't as positive as it could have been. I wasn't feeling 100% and my stomach was quite upset. Transition set up was quick and easy and coming back to the hotel was peace of mind to put the wetsuits on and what not. Starting late was really hard for me. I'm so used to training at 7am that I think this is inevitably where the nutrition really went wrong. Pre transition I had a granola bar (what I normally have before a training day), couple bites of banana (thanks to my coach for bringing one to me last minute) and then a GU right before my start. I screwed up here big time and think I paid for it later in the day. 

Swim

Did my best to get to front of the line. Started standing up a few people in from the far left of the dock like my coach told me to. Waited for the first girl to get in and then went for it. Immediately got kicked in the stomach which didn't feel great and knocked me off my game. First time I've had contact in a swim ever. Kept 'alligator' swimming until I got out of the madness. Was able to swim and take a breath every stroke for a bit then panic set in. WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!?!?!??! I then tried to self calm and tell myself I go to Dynamo, home of some of the fastest swimmers around, I should crush this swim. I do this ALL the time. So face in I went for it. Swam a good distance then panic again. This repeated the whole swim. I eventually back-stroked for a minute or two to calm down. Finally out of the water in 31 and change...should have been sub 30. This swim was not indicative of my training. 

T1

Wetsuit strippers are AWESOME!! Other than that excitement ... nothing special in T1. Took way too long. Didn't run into T1 and rather just took my time trying to recover my HR. Didn't forget anything ....bonus!

Bike

Started off pretty strong, was feeling good and averaging around 16.5-17.7 for a while...not too shabby. The hills started and I chugged through. Told myself it wasn't worth killing it but still tried to keep my mph above the normal and constant cadence on hills. Recovered decently on the flats/descents which I was happy about. There were about 4 "big" hills I struggled on but knew there was reprieve at the top. Tried to keep nutrition on track but think this is what happened--just didnt' pace my drinking and then over-indulged when I did drink. Not to mention my HR was higher than normal on the bike due to hills so I'm guessing that played a part too.  As soon as I hit mile 48 I cranked it on the bike hauling ass at around 20-23mph for a bit then hovered in the 16-18mph to get me finally into T2. Passed more people on the bike than ever before in a race. 

T2

Again, took my time, didn't run my bike in but rather caught my breath and tried to think about not forgetting things for the run and telling my body to actually run! 

Run

Well the positive news is I could run after getting off the bike. I started with my normal 4x2 and got through a bit of that until the stomach pain set in. I felt like at any point I could vomit. If I stopped moving that's what was going to happen. I also knew I'd see my coach at some point so that kept me moving too. I started walking pretty early on which made me upset but knew if I could salvage my stomach a bit I could maybe run later on. Once I got some coke, cold water and an orange in my stomach I was feeling a bit better. Again, nutrition was off here. Typically I take a GU every 3 miles ... messed that one up (had one at mile 4 and one at mile 9). Took ice, sponges, oranges, water and coke at almost every aid station and then had sprite (that my coach sneakily brought me). Finally felt OK around the turn on Broad street and just tried to run/jog as much as I could and when I walked I walked angry. My left IT band reared its ugly head about mile 7 and just tired to keep it under control and not get it too bad knowing what lies ahead for me. Pretty disappointed with my run as I've had some solid training days and know I'm capable of better. Salvaged 8 minutes slower than my GC time BUT I walked a hell of a lot more in this race than I did in May. 

Pretty bummed I missed a PR by 1 minute and overall just upset with my performance knowing I'm capable of being faster as I do it every freaking day in training. I tried to counter all that with knowing I wasn't as tapered as other athletes and again, I know it wasn't about that race but I am very internally competitive.

You are Ready

Although I'm not at taper yet for IMFL, I'm getting REAL close! Only 35 days til race day!! A fantastic read I borrowed from someone in our Ironman Florida facebook group. Reading things like this make it all more real and that the challenge set forth before me is going to be tough ... but I will be ready.

**********************
Right now you are about to enter the taper. Perhaps you've been at this a few months, perhaps
you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first Ironman for others, a
long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.

You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on the mileage, piling up
the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until next year to erase. Long rides
were followed by long runs, which both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed
by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.

You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.
You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman Summer, and now the hardest days
are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate
climb on an alpine stage, you've already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb
to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lies before you...and
it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles,
taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is something your body desperately
needs, your mind cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.

It won't be pretty.
It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you
reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your
brain doesn't know what the body already does. Your body knows the truth:

You are ready.

Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish - that
there is too much that can go wrong.
You are ready.

Finishing an this race is never an accident. It's the result of dedication, focus, hard work,
and belief that all the long runs in April, long rides in June, and long swims every damn
weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from
long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, "How will I ever be ready?" to
the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found
the answer.
It is worth it. Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload
becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not
easy, but you can do it.

You are ready.

You will walk into the water with 2000 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea
of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your
wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for so VERY
long is finally here.

You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.
The helicopters will roar overhead.
The splashing will surround you.

You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.
The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll watch as the
shoreline grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for
the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what happening,
then you’ll head for the bike.
The voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff can't wipe the
smile off your face.

You'll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your
bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.
You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot.
Maybe you're not feeling so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep
moving. After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?

You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride for what seems like
hours.

By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles
here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won't - not
here. Not today.

You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there. You'll fight for
every inch of road. The crowd will come back to you here. Let their energy push you. Let them
see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you - your body will get just that little bit lighter.

Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.

You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns,
tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come - soon! You'll roll
back - you'll see people running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise
will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back, with only 26.2 miles to go.
You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here,
you can run the damn bike into T2.

You'll roll into transition. You'll give up your bike and not look back. You'll change your
shoes and load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer -
the one that counts.
You'll take that first step of thousands...and you'll smile. You'll know that the bike won't
let you down now - the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you
in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a summer Sunday.
High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've worked for all year long.
That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won't feel so
good.

That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down just like you did on the
bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the leaders coming back the other way. Some will
look great - some won't. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't
panic - this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it won't
last.

You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep eating. A volunteer will offer you
broth....TAKE THE BROTH!!! Maybe you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of
schedule, don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it. Everyone comes
up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that
planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote
control. Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't waste energy worrying
about things - just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep
drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down.

You'll make it to the halfway point. You'll load up at the stops. Some will look good, some
won't. Eat what looks good, toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know.
Cheer for people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be where you are, just
like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy -
you'll get it right back.

Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.

The miles will drag on. The brilliant sunshine will yawn. You'll be coming up to those aid
stations fully alive with people, music, food, drink. Keep moving.
You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that you're going to make it.
You'll start to imagine how good it's going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings
drive you on. When your legs just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be
like when someone catches you…and puts a medal over your head... all you have to do is get
there.
You'll start to hear the people in town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer for
you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the
bike, and when you came back, and when you left on the run, and now when you've come back.

You'll enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over. You'll be exhausted,
wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself,
"Where did the whole day go?" You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to
finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.

You'll hit mile 25. Your Ironman will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.
You'll run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but you will run. The crowd
will become denser and denser. Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be
for keeps.

Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You'll run towards the gate, between the
fences, and into the sun made just for you.

They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.

The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only
you.

You'll break the tape at the finish line, 140.6 miles after starting your journey. The flash
will go off.

You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly...be capable
of nothing more.

Someone will catch you.
You'll lean into them.
It will suddenly hit you.
YOU’VE COMPLETED THE IRONMAN!
You are ready.
You are ready.