Race Report: Ironman Wisconsin, 2016

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." --T.S. Eliot

This is a tale of two races, a decade apart.

I always knew I wanted one more shot. I just wasn't sure if I'd ever get it.  So when my friend Andy wanted to do an Ironman I put out the feelers to Matt and he didn't say no said yes so I went for it.

The second time you do an Ironman is a little like the second time you head to the hospital for labor. You know what you're in for this time. It's going to hurt. A LOT. But the end is pretty unreal and definitely worth it.

Training for an Ironman while working full time with two kids at 39 is a lot different than training for an Ironman while working full time at 29. For one thing, RECOVERY. Like, wow.  It made a huge difference this time and I would feel the workouts for days. Luckily I had Coach Emily to keep me on track and help me walk the fine line between wrecking myself and getting in high volume. I trained as most people juggling too many things do--seemingly never enough and at odd times. Running laps around the pool and park while the kids were at swim team; finishing my long rides at the baseball fields so I could watch Jackson play, swimming while my kids played on the diving boards.  But I got almost everything in, and I felt super fit going into the race.

I knew, however, how difficult this bike course was. Because I had been there before. And I knew that there could really not be a bike course more perfectly set up for my weaknesses.  But, the timing of this race was perfect for school and life so I sucked it up, because, Ironman. It's not supposed to be easy, anyway. And call me a brand snob, but I wanted the next (only? last?) full I'd do to be an Ironman-branded event. They throw one hell of a party, and I wanted in.

So Ironman Wisconsin it was.

Most normal people arrived Thursday but I only get three personal days for the ENTIRE school year and I just couldn't see using two of them in the third week of school...so I left after school Friday. Here's how it went: caught a one-way plane to O'Hare. Graded APUSH essays on the development of identity in the colonial era. Bought a bus ticket from Chicago to Madison. Graded more APUSH essays until I was carsick and felt like hurling.  Arrived in Madison at 8pm CST or 9pm EST. Collapsed at Rob's house.  Matt and the kids drove after school Friday and stayed in Chicago to sleep, then met me in Madison the next day.

Oh, forgot to mention we bought a house and had to clean our entire house so we could show it while we were gone. The week before Ironman was the most exhausting week I can remember. I was looking forward to Ironman SO I COULD RELAX. That's kind of sad, but it's the truth. (Also, we sold our house while I was on the bike course--so it worked!)

Spending time with Rob's freaking adorable family was so fun. I miss my Evotri teammates and it was so good to see him!  He kept me laughing and relatively calm while I got my copious amounts of bags together.

My family grabbed dinner that night and I was so energized from having all of them there--it meant so much to me that they all drove out so far just for one day!

Race morning I got up, tried to eat as much as I could (nervous, so it was tough), and then we headed up to the race. The weather literally could not have been more perfect.  It was a far cry from 2006, which you can read about here, here, and here.  I was excited to get it all started.

Except I was terrified.

See I knew, really knew, what I was in for this time. The lows would be really low. I knew it would hurt, I knew I'd doubt myself, I knew there would be times when I wanted to quit. But I also knew how amazing that finish would be.  I knew that if I could finish, then I would show my kids that anything is possible if you put your mind to it.

I wanted to get to the end so badly but as I stood there and tears welled up in my eyes, I knew that in Ironman, there are no guarantees.  You just have to trust yourself to deal with what the day gives you and hope you are strong enough.

It was scary. I said bye to Rob and tried to bat away a few tears that snuck out.

I headed to the water, said a prayer, heard Mike Reilly say, "Have the best day of your life!" and then heard the cannon go off.

The day had begun.

The trip to the first buoy was chaos, but this time I was prepared. I got kicked, punched, my butt got grabbed (what was that all about?! STOP IT PEOPLE), my goggles got punched. I stopped often to let people go by who were way too aggressive.  I "moo-ed" at the first buoy, because that's what you do.  As I turned to head across the LONG way of the lake, I got in a little more of a rhythm, but was still pretty constantly surrounded by feet and arms.  It seemed like the lake was never ever going to end and in my head, I was thinking I wasn't going to go any faster than 2006 and it was going to make me mad but oh well.  I expected to see something around 1:30 when I finally got to the shore. Blarg. I was gonna be mad.

Except I didn't see 1:30. I saw a 1:18!

This is me, happy with a triathlon swim, for the first time in 15 years

I have never been so happy in a triathlon swim before! I am a notorious underachiever in open water swims and for the first time ever, I felt like I did what I actually could do.  I saw Rob and all the wetsuit peelers and I screamed "ROB I ACTUALLY HAD A GOOD SWIM" mostly because I was completely shocked!

Ran up the helix in my Wonder Woman swimsuit which got lots of cheers and laughs!  T1 was full of amazing volunteers who helped me get all my clothes ready, shoes on, and nutrition in order.  Those volunteers in Wisconsin are UNBELIEVABLE people. I'm telling you, Ironman may be the evil empire, but they sure know how to throw a race.

All smiles on the bike as I started!

Getting out of downtown was a little dicey as we had to go through a city parkway with hairpin turns, bumps, and a LOT of people.  I was so afraid of getting busted for drafting that I took it super easy on the first 14 or so miles until we got to the "loop."  This loop would be two times, but due to construction, a little different....there was this hill called "Barlow" that everyone was nervously mumbling about.  I know I trained on mostly flat terrain, because, life, but I did get some hills in and knew I made progress on them.  What was this Barlow? I asked Rob, would I know it when I got there?

HA! I remember asking the nurse in my prenatal appointments if I'd "know what a contraction was" when it happened.

YES. YES, YOU IDIOT, YOU WILL KNOW.

Barlow was every bit as tough as everyone said it would be, but the crowd support was amazing. I made it up about 1/3 of the way, but when I saw I was making literally no progress compared to the approximately 75% of people around me who were walking it, I said a few bad words and then said "NOT WORTH IT" out loud, got off my bike, and walked it. And did not feel one iota of remorse.  It was barely mile 40, and I knew it would be a long day.

The first loop was tough, but I took it very very easy.  I came back to Verona and saw my family, and got a hit of energy just from knowing they were there for me. It made the doubt temporarily subside.

Little shadows, waiting for me

 Because there was some doubt creeping in a little; I know what I can do on flatter courses and let's just say it's a good 4-5 mph faster than I was doing on this course.  It got me down. I thought, "maybe I should have done Rev3 and been done with it."  But, I chose this. I wanted another shot. This course was not about my fastest time ever, this was about a journey ten years in the making. This was my choice; this was about my family, this was about showing myself how far I have come and what I can do, and showing my children that you can do impossible things if you put your mind to it. It was never supposed to be easy, but the relentlessness of the hills and my own doubt started to really get to me.

Miles 70-95 were a dark place. First, there was a creepy clown hiding in a remote field that honked a horn and menacingly said, "Go faster."

THIS IS HIM. WHY. WHY. WHY.

Actually, that was hilarious. Thank you, creepy soul-stealing, serial-killer clown.

Other than that, I was full of doubt and pain and cursing the seemingly endless false-flat back to Mt. Horeb.  I started to hate everything: every breeze, every hill, every person there to cheer on the course (how dare they tell me I'm doing good! stop it, you nice people!) every cow, every piece of cheese I've ever encountered, and the entire damn state of Wisconsin.

Around mile 80 or so, I knew I needed to shift my focus. I said, out loud, "GET OVER YOURSELF" and focused on my dear friends Jeff and Mallory, Mike and Amy, and Sam and her mom Ginny, who are dealing with MUCH more than a stupid hilly bike course. It helped...a lot. I said a few prayers, I reminded myself I chose this pain and so many others don't get to choose it.

Back to Verona and turning off the loop to head home made me smile. I was going to be okay; the worst was over. There were a few rollers on the way back in and I was, quite frankly, out of steam. I thought "just keep moving forward" and knew my split would be slow--over 7 hours--which made me respect 29-year-old me for doing the course in the pouring rain at 8:14. Suddenly, I'm less ashamed about that.

Can I ride a course faster? Of course. But not this one. That was the best I could possibly do to set myself up for a marathon--yikes, a MARATHON--and I came into T2 smiling to more amazing volunteers and Matt and my brother Mike snapping a really inspiring picture of me:

Yeah, thanks guys. :)

This run. This run is two loops and you are almost NEVER alone. The weather was absolutely perfect and led to college kids hanging out on their front yards, massive waves of people along State Street, and Zac Efron. Yes, apparently according to my students, his brother was doing the race and I must have ran right by him, so now we're best friends. It's legit. I checked.

As I started the run, I heard Robby yelling numbers out at Run Special Needs, and as he saw me he stopped to say into the megaphone, "Sara Ziemnik....is awesome." It was a great way to start the run!  Thanks, bro.

The first ten miles were tough. I was moving but hurting, and I seemed to keep slowing down. There's a few hills on campus that are just tough when you're already depleted, and I walked them and every aid station. But I felt like my stomach was okay...I was just running out of steam. Right at Mile 10 I walked an aid station and this nice girl said to me as I must have looked completely dejected, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you're doing amazing."  I nodded weakly and said "thanks." And then I saw my ENTIRE family--just at the moment I really needed to:

Fact: hugs from your Dad make Ironman less painful

high five to Emmy

The girl in the red was the one who had just tried to cheer me up. Thanks, girl in the red. :)

It was the boost I needed. I shuffled past Robby who gave me another shout-out at special needs, turned around right at the finish line, and knew I'd be back. Did a little math in my head and decided I wanted to see a 13 at the end.  That was going to keep me going.

So the weird thing is that although my splits show me slowing down, I FELT better and better. Food was staying down although it was getting harder to eat and drink, and I could keep moving.  Lots of people around me were running out of steam and I didn't seem to be, and that felt good.  There was still steam, it was just a tiny bit. Enough that I could smile, though.

Right around mile 18 or 19 I saw Beth--she was walking so I told her to keep it up--she was injured so badly last spring that even doing this Ironman was in jeopardy, so for her to finish it as strong as she did is simply amazing. So proud of my friend!

As I hit the last 10K, I entered the "barf zone" where I felt like I was most assuredly going to hurl.  It was a matter of time. So I tried to take small sips of water and gatorade, but Gu actually made me wretch..so I switched to potato chips. WHAT? I don't even like potato chips. But they sounded AMAZING and it worked, so there you go.

Miles 21-25 were a blur. I just kept shuffling and hoping that I didn't barf. It was getting dark and the sunset over the lake was beautiful. I kept thinking of one of my favorite Hamilton lyrics, "how lucky we are to be alive right now!" while I "ran" slash shuffled.  It was slow, but I was making progress and every step got me closer to the end.

The last mile I had a big stupid grin on my face. My watch had died sometime on the bike so I had no idea what I was doing pace-wise, but I felt like it had to be good enough for a 13.  I turned the corner around the capitol, and I got tears in my eyes. I was going to do it. I'm a mom of two kids who works full time and I have no business even attempting something like this, but because of love and support---NOT talent, because I honestly don't have much of that--love and support and my unwillingness to ever quit, I was going to do it. Again.

The tears that threatened to come out as I rounded the capitol stopped and were instantly replaced by laughing. I could not stop laughing, and I put my hands in the air, high fived everyone I could, and just screamed like a complete lunatic.

I got to be in this finish line again--a place that I can barely put into words, but I tried ten years ago here:

"I have never felt more alive in my 29 short years than I did in those 20 seconds.

I felt so aware of being. Of seeing light and feeling wet and hearing laughter. Of feeling my feet ache and loving my husband and adoring my friends and feeling unwavering gratitude for my parents. The smell of rain and mud and sweat all around me...the squish of my shoes on my feet, the feel of my hands holding my head in disbelief, that this body--this collection of bones and nerves and cells could do this."

It's something like that.

I saw Matt and I yelled to him, saw a 13--13:54.21, to be exact, let out a huge yell, and hit the dab for Jackson.

I still can't put into words why I wanted to do this or what I feel. In many ways, I'm more proud of this finish than any other race I have ever attempted. In other ways, I'm even more proud of myself for finishing this course 10 years ago in pouring rain.

This is like the biggest smile I have possibly created, ever

I broke every single conventional rule of training and did this my way, on my own terms. And for that to work and for me to take 98 minutes off my time is something that I will be forever proud of.  But I think the journey of getting to the start line can't be underestimated or under-appreciated. I picked a course that timed up with my career--and Matt's--so I wouldn't sacrifice what I need (and want) to do in that classroom. I started almost all of my rides at the sunrise and leaving from my house, so I wouldn't miss time with my family. I missed training on hills like I probably definitely should have, but I got to see some amazing sunrises; I got to swim while the sun came up, too.  My children watched me train all summer and I think they are old enough to really remember this...and I hope I set a good example for them of aiming high and daring to do something a little crazy.

My little bro!

Robby and I look like we were just crowned Homecoming King and Queen of Spandex High School

SQUAD

I am forever thankful and grateful to my family for their support, without which I would never, ever have been able to do this.  This was not me; it was them, and that's the truth.

Gratitude isn't possibly a word that's big enough for my amazing coach, Emily. I started working with Emily when I was about 8 months post-baby with Jackson...and since then, it's official: I have had every single PR in every. single. distance.... 5k, 10k, half marathon, marathon, sprint triathlon, olympic triathlon, half ironman, and now, full Ironman.  Thank you, Emily, for always knowing exactly what to say and how to help me fit this love of triathlon into one busy life. Your advice and your friendship means so much to me.

I am grateful to dedicate my race to my friends battling cancer and to the Village Project, where I was able to raise over $1,000 to help support families in my community as they struggle with something much harder than I can imagine or than I felt on that course.

It was an epic, perfect, painful, love-filled day, and I could not have asked for a better Ironman.

So hey, that swim's not half bad.

So that crazy week of workouts?

I'm getting most of them in! With LOTS of help.  My parents were super awesome yesterday and offered to watch the kids so I could swim.

Got up early and ran 7 miles on the treadmill (gross, but necessary) and then had breakfast with the kids.  Then, my mom came over and I took off for the pool around 10.

Got there, walked into the locker room, and saw LOTS AND LOTS of older ladies.

Oh no. That could only mean one thing.

I dashed out to the pool and saw they had already removed the lane lines.  One of my former students was guarding, so I asked him, "Hey, is there a water aerobics class today?"

He replied, "yep, in 5 minutes."

FAIL

So I had to swim in the super hot and super annoying 20 yard pool...it reminded me of last time's Ironman when TriEric and I did a ton of training in the warm gross YMCA that was 20 yards.  (Why the water aerobics classes aren't in the warmer pool, I will never know.)

So, sigh.

I had a nice workout all ready to go but it was very time-specific and had 50s and stuff in it and there was just no way.

I remembered that another swim workout I was supposed to do involved 3 X 1000s.  I didn't remember the specifics, but I figured that if I could just get in 3X1000 in the small, hot, annoying pool, that would be good enough.

Busted it out in around 53 minutes, counting a few times of getting my old cap adjusted and my goggles to stop sucking my eyeballs out of my head.  So that was a good confidence booster, because if I can swim 3000 yards in 53 minutes with no training and no trouble, I'll be able to work my way up to the roughly 4250ish that are in Ironman by September 11.

(The key, of course, is to get to the point where that feels like an easy warmup, and I can't say that was the case yesterday.)

But, hey!  I needed that.

Tomorrow I'm going to run with Ana and try to get in 1:40-1:50 as some good base miles.  Then, if I can squeeze in a swim Sunday somehow, I will have done all the workouts that Coach Emily asked me to, although I had to shorten a few.  What started as me thinking I couldn't even get in half has turned into me almost getting most in!

Progress, indeed.

It's like apples and Mount Everest

Hi there!

It's been a while.

See, I had intentions of posting at least weekly, describing my training and writing witty anecdotes like I did ten years ago the first time around. I posted almost every.single.day. the last time around. Surely I could handle once a week, right?

Ha!  Ha ha ha ha haahahahhahahahahahahha that's cute.

So it's only March 30th but I have learned something already:

This time is much different. I can't expect it to be anything like the past Ironman, in training or in execution.  And there's some good to this and some bad, too.

For instance, twitter, instagram and facebook have all made it easier for me to post quick updates or pictures from training. Yay for that!  Back in the day, I feel like this blog was the only way for me to document the journey, and sometimes, you just don't have time for that.  Like, all the time, it seems for me.

But I will always keep this place as a digital record of thoughts that are more than 140 characters.  There is still a need for a place like this for me, so I'm not going anywhere...but you can definitely not hold your breath for my daily blog posts here, like I did last time.

One thing is true both last time and this time around:  Ironman is a big fat reminder that you think you are in control but you have no idea.

Case in point: the first week of February, Emery and Jackson both got a stomach bug. Then I got a MUTANT STOMACH BUG FROM HELL that had me unable to keep food in me for almost six days. And Matt did not get it because clearly he is a robot.  But, I was out of school for 5 days--an entire week--and I have way more responsibilities at work now than I did ten years ago.  Teaching AP US History and serving as department chair means more essays, more papers, and more meetings.

To say I was buried was a complete understatement. It took me almost 2-3 weeks to get completely un-buried.

Then, just as I started to get back into the swing of things, I screwed it up again. During the first week in March I took part in a charity fundraiser at school that required me to do something stupid to make the kids laugh.  No problem! I can do that! I do stupid things daily!  However, I took that a *little* too seriously and, long story short, ended up with self-induced whiplash due to headbanging on stage to make the kids laugh.  I ended up in the ER getting a CAT scan after I was passing out the following night at a restaurant scaring the entire establishment and one of my good friends who was with me.  So I lost some time training due to that stunt, too. To be honest, I'm still not 100% and am working on dealing with the fallout of this poor life decision (that was really funny, though).

I feel like I keep sending Coach Emily these ridiculous emails full of excuses and disappointments.  I remember last decade this time around I was doing much longer workouts, more consistently, and now I have the occasional sick kid or self-induced headbanging whiplash or meetings and a soccer practice and there goes another workout, again.

I looked at this week's workouts and about LOST my MIND.  There was a lot there, and I panicked.  How am I ever going to get any of this done? How am I ever going to get HALF of this done?

What HAVE I DONE?

Maybe I have no business doing this.  It's not the same as it was ten years ago. I was 28, kid-less, with probably half the responsibilities that I have at work now.  I could wreck my body on long rides and runs and recover quickly.

Now I'm 38, with two kids who are busy and involved, and with a LOT more responsibilities at work than I ever had a decade ago.

I panicked and wrote to Coach Emily that I expected it to be different, but not this different. "It's not apples and oranges," I said. "It's apples and Mount Everest and I did not anticipate this."

As she always does, she pulled me back from the ledge a bit and reminded me that this time of year always sucks hard, and that I need to stay in the moment. I believe her first line of the email was:

"ONE. DAY. AT. A. TIME."

If she could smack me across the head, I'm sure she would.  But that was left to Matt, who watched me burst into tears when I saw my schedule on Workoutlog.com and did the equivalent of a smacking for a triathlete.  He said,

"I think you need to go out for a ride. Just a little one."

And he pushed me out the door.

So I did.  I rode for 45 minutes in the sunshine and was reminded how good it feels to be on my bike OUTSIDE and NOT IN MY BASEMENT with laundry hanging around me and my kids Shopkins and Pokemon cards on the floor.

I won't be stuck in this basement--in this moment--for much longer.  And things will settle down, and I will get outside with my friends, and I will be able to swim more and it's going to be okay.

I may be ten years older with a hell of a lot less time to train, but I have 7-8 years of solid training under my belt in those ten years.  I am much stronger than I ever was at 28 (but, as my headbanging stunt proved, still probably not smarter) and that has got to count for something.

I'm not trying to get to Kona, so why am I doing this, ultimately?  I think to remind myself how it feels when you take away all the BS, all the stuff that doesn't matter, and just focus on what does. Family, health, friendship, training, nutrition. Repeat.   That's what Ironman reminds you.  That's all you really need--all you ever really needed, anyway.

It won't be the same as my last journey, but some things are universal.  I still have a lot to learn, and I think that's why I'm here.

Weekly Roundup, sorta

Okay!

Where was I?

Little bit of craziness the past two weeks.  First, Em got strep throat.  Then, I got some weird virus thing that made me super tired for a few days.  And then, a lovely stomach bug hit our childcare provider and her poor little guy, so that threw us all for a loop with scheduling this week.

So I'm going from memory here--

The good:

Proud of myself for missing my group spin but hammering it out in my basement and really holding myself accountable with two, one-hour killer workouts back to back.

Swimming twice a week and it's starting to NOT feel like quicksand. Yay!

Gave myself a break when I was sick and the world kept spinning.  Funny how that happens.

The bad:

The virus put a dent in training, for sure.  I especially noticed it on the run.

Have to miss the group spin tomorrow (boo) with some family stuff, and the next few days will be crazy. So I'm going to have to just do what I can to get in what I can get in.

I keep blowing off strength training--just too damn tired at the end of the day.

REPEAT AFTER ME:  It is only January.  I'll be okay.

BUT--

It's also about 7 months away and I need to not blow things off unless I have a seriously good reason.  So I have had good reasons the past two weeks.

Talked to Coach Emily because by Friday I'm literally collapsing from exhaustion and so angry at life that I just want to crawl under a rock and sleep for three days.  So we're going to move a rest day to Wednesday and see how it goes--figure I can catch my breath and get caught up on all the silly stuff I need to do to keep the train running at home and work, too.

Ironman Wisconsin, Weekly Round-Up 1

First week back to school had me like

My own two children were really excited to go back to school. Let's just say that my clientele, the high school sorts, were, um, LESS THAN ENTHUSED to be back at school and deal with tests and midterms.  One girl proclaimed loudly in my very first class Monday how "This is the worst day of the ENTIRE SCHOOL YEAR."

So it made staying positive a slightly extra difficult challenge.  Throw in there that the subject matter we were discussing this week included the last resistance of Native Americans on the Plains and also the Armenian genocide during WWI, and we all needed a little laugh by the end of the week.

So we watched this.

Feel better? Me too.

It feels so good to be back on a schedule with a goal in mind, and a much different goal for this year.  Ironman is just what I needed, I think.

Challenges this week:

--trying to stay positive despite lots of non-positivity around me (I think I did pretty good especially once one of my students introduced us to the cats and cucumbers)
--dealing with the TIRED TIRED OMG TIRED feeling that hits by Thursday
--getting in a swim before school
--fitting in the workouts while being able to grade/plan

The good:

--got the swim in! yay me! And it didn't feel like quicksand like it did before, so slight progress.
--had a really good, hard spin on Sunday with cool people and still made it to church (almost) on time. Boo yah
--had a really good run on Wednesday after school on a sunny day in the park--big ups to Matt for getting the kids for me so I could sleep in a little and do that after school
--Nutrition was almost flawless except for that Bloomin' Onion at Outback last night to celebrate Papa Z's birthday (hey, I only go there like once a year)

The bad:

--The tired. OH THE TIRED.  I don't know if I can keep up morning workouts every day, which means Matt and I are going to have to get really creative about juggling workouts and kid activities and grading. Luckily, he is more of a night-owl and can work out at night with no trouble.
--By Friday I was not a happy person. I was cranky and snapped at J and E a few times, and I had my PJs on earlier and earlier (like 6pm) starting Wednesday.  I know it was just a rough week at school so hopefully this won't be too bad.

Realizations:

--coffee is my friend
--I need a new bike seat ASAP
--I probably won't be able to run with friends for a while since I need Saturday mornings to regroup in my PJs while my kids watch Christmas Story for the 875,496th time and then run later
--trading a run with friends for a 2 hour, HARD trainer ride with friends is the better choice for now at least

Matt's out for a run now and we're all enjoying some much-needed chill time on the couch, and then I'll head out.  Looking forward to a relaxing weekend and actually catching my breath!

Funny How That Works

Just listened to the latest "Happier" Podcast with Drew Barrymore as the special guest, and I just love her.  Seriously. Talk about someone who really turned life around and made something of herself...and, from what I can tell, someone who seems very grounded and appreciates being grounded is really refreshing.  She mentioned something that really resonated with where I am right now (and my last post) which was something to the tune of "You can do anything, but you can't do everything."  I hear you, sister.

Prioritizing is key, and so is cutting the right corners.  So, it's been nice to really get back to my roots.  My heart has always been in triathlon--I try to pose as a runner here and there and I do a decent job at it, but really?

My heart is and always will be in triathlon.

In a pool, when I was maybe 5 or 6, I first learned I had actual talent--like, not just because my mom said I did.  I learned that the only opponent that mattered was myself.  This carried over to everywhere from the piano to the seat in the classroom to the spot in front of the classroom to the race courses today.

I told Coach Emily I was finally ready--ready for something structured.  I think that might have been the longest I'd gone (since being pregnant) without formal workouts. It was about two months.  And it was needed, too--I needed a full two months to wrap my head around what was making me race with dread and not joy, and figure out how to fix it.  And the answer is to get back to what consistently makes me happy, and that's triathlon.  So I'm doing it.

And it feel so good.

Well, not all of it.  To be clear, I told Coach Emily that the workout she wrote for me this week pretty much made me barf and made me realize just how much work I have ahead of me. Hello there, slice of humble pie! SUPERSIZE ME.

And I made it out to a group spin on Sunday for the first time in a long time, and I was a disgusting sweaty mess at the end but it felt so damn good to be there.  With people who get it. Who like this stuff too.  Netflix is okay and all but sometimes it is nice to get out of my basement, and I left there feeling pleasantly wrecked and ready for coffee and church, and the rest of my week.

Running is getting better, but I'm seeing it now more as a puzzle piece to my greater goal.  It's quite liberating.  No longer am I running through pain (yay!) and I'm thinking more how I can be ready to run off the bike, to have a solid race, and to finish strong.  It's a whole different take on running, and it's one that is more me.

In short?  This feels right.  Doing what my heart pushes me to do is making me happy.  My heart is in it, and the joy is coming back.

Revolutionary, huh?

On "Having It All," Which Really Means "Cutting the Right Corners"

A lot of people ask me how I have time to do the things that I do.  I've been thinking a lot about the answer to this question, and it really comes down to this.

Coffee.  Lots and lots of coffee.

(No, that's a joke.)

(but I do drink a LOT of coffee)

The truth is that I'm from the generation that was the first to really, truly, be able to "have it all."  Career and athletic doors were already flung open for me, largely due to my mom's generation (thanks, ladies!).  Don't get me wrong--there's still a glass ceiling for sure, and I can write a whole 'nuther post about how I still see a great amount of inequity, from little stuff to big stuff.  But overall, I've been able to completely choose my destiny, which is a lot different story than women who have come before me can tell.

So here's the real truth on how I "have it all:"  I get a CRAPLOAD of help.  And I figure out which corners can be cut. Then I cut them.  It's a constant tightrope of difficult decisions and reflection to be sure I'm doing the right thing, and a lot of questioning myself.  It's a lot of trusting my gut a-la-Olivia Pope.  Sometimes I panic; sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a sick feeling of HOW ON EARTH WILL I DO ALL THE THINGS but then Matt helps remind me that we don't have to do ALL the things, just the things that matter.  So that helps a lot.

But the most important things are the help and cutting the right corners.

So a few years ago I read Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg.  I figured it would be a LOT of eye rolling and slow-clapping in my head ("Yeah, Sheryl, easy for you to say BIZILLIONAIRE") and in some parts, it was.

via GIPHY

But it also sort of gave me a little kick in the butt that I needed to keep from being too mediocre, too.  I was feeling like I was just sort of floating along in my career and, quite literally, trying to stay afloat under a sea of papers and lesson plans.  Reading that made me think about ways I could reinvigorate my teaching, but keep it fitting in the very, very limited time that I had.  I stepped it up in a national group I'm a part of and offered to lead our statewide efforts to connect educators.  Through that, I had the opportunity to present at a national conference last March and this past November, which led to some more connections and pretty awesome experiences.  I aimed pretty high and actually got a position at a summer seminar at Stanford last summer.  And this August I was honored to be named my district's Teacher of the Year, which I'm still in a little bit of shock over since I work with some pretty inspiring and talented educators.

So how do I do that?  It helps that I love what I do and honestly can't imagine NOT doing it.  I realize the very fact that I can say that about my job is a privilege that not everyone has, and I am grateful for it.

I cut every corner I can in my house.  I hire someone to clean it, because I hate doing that and if I'm working, I'm willing to outsource cleaning. I often spend two hours or so putting together freezer meals (10-15) so I can stack  my freezer with easy stuff and I LOVE MY CROCKPOT MORE THAN ANYONE SHOULD LOVE AN INANIMATE OBJECT.  I'm not a baker; I'm not a crafter.  You're not going to get anything off Pinterest from me.  Don't expect me to sew you something or bake something. You'll get store-bought goods, and you'll like it, okay?  That's a corner I cut.

I work through my lunch almost every day.  I do miss hanging out with people during lunch, but it came down to bringing more work home or trying to soldier through so I could relax at night instead of grading so much from 9-11pm, and if working while eating lunch gave me (most of) my nights/weekends, back, then I'm doing it.

And it also helps that I have quality, loving child care. This is something that not enough of us have access to, and OH BOY IF YOU WANT TO HEAR ME RANT JUST GO AHEAD AND ASK ME WHAT I THINK ABOUT THAT.  But we'll save that for now...now, I just want to say thank you thank you thank you to the women who provide me with childcare so that I get to do what I'm called to do.  I am so thankful for them and the love they give to my kids.  So Mary (and Terry!), Suzy, Paula, Luann, Lindsay, and Cristi--I can't thank you enough.  If I were actually funny, I would have said this (start around 1:10):
So that's the career aspect.  Now, how do I fit in athletics? Marathons? Ironmans?

Cutting the right corners, people. CUT THEM ALL (if you can).

First thing first: my quest to qualify for the Boston Marathon which has been on my radar for the better part of the past 5 years has shown me that there are some corners that I am just not willing to cut.  I've learned that I don't have the talent to do it right now in the time that I am willing to give, and accepting that has led me away from anger and frustration and toward a more peaceful acceptance that now is not my time and that's okay.  I'm not saying never, but I'm saying not now, and that's a powerful and difficult decision to make, and one that I'm proud of.

So wait, crazy chick--you'll do an Ironman, but you won't try to qualify for Boston?

YES.  Hear me out.

I have quite literally and figuratively beat myself up pretty badly trying to get to Boston, and I've had an X-ray recently to prove it.  Plus the sticking out my tongue at my running shoes since October (and the fact that I just wasn't that into it in this past training cycle, too!) reminded me that I am built for endurance and built for triathlon, too.  That's where my heart is.

I always, always knew I'd be back to Ironman someday. But the corners. I was not about to cut them while my kids are so young.  (Please understand some people do Ironmans with young kids and hats off to them!  You might be one of them.  I am not judging these people at all.  They are most likely WAY more talented than I am and can pull it off, and that's fabulous.  Keep on rockin' with your bad selves, people.)  Now that my kids are older, they are a lot less dependent upon me.  We're in a sweet spot where they still want to be around me, but don't need to rely on me every single second and, in fact, enjoy being with their friends sometime over me, and I'm (mostly) okay with this.  It means that if I'm swimming in the morning and miss them at breakfast, they know that I'll see them at our family dinner.  It means that I can swim laps at the pool WHILE they play, and they come by to ask me to do butterfly to show their friends (my fun party trick!) or wave at me while they're in line for the diving boards.

It means that now I'm ready to put in those long hours again.  I'm comfortable with that, because I know they will be, too.  I'm timed it up to be mostly in the summer--when I have a lot of help and support and time and when they have a lot of fun opportunities, too, that I can work my long stuff around so I don't miss the important stuff.

And let's be honest, I'm extremely lucky to be in a two-teacher household with available, active, loving, and supportive grandparents down the road who go above and beyond helping me, especially when I get overwhelmed by ALL THE THINGS.  My parents and Matt's Dad are also extremely supportive of my athletic endeavors and also of the kids, and are willing and able to help out often.  Matt and I do a lot of professional development and work over the summer, but we can make it work for our schedules.  So this is the real reason that I chose Ironman Wisconsin--I honestly was only willing to pick an Ironman that coincided with the summer and school schedules.  If it means a harder course, well then, I'm just gonna have to suck it up now, aren't I?  I was really hoping for Mont Tremblant but next year it was the DAY BEFORE school starts, and that ain't gonna work. So Wisconsin it is, and to tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to the challenge of those hills again. It will be a good measure of how far I've come in the past ten years.  I'm nervous about it, but in a good way.

And one more thing: I have been lucky enough to find a coach that I also consider a great friend--who knows the right words to say at every moment, and who knows how to push me just hard enough while still respecting the corners I refuse to cut.  She's made me a better athlete and a better person, and I can't thank her enough for that.

So "Having It All" means cutting every single corner you can, and find the help in as many places as you can.

And the coffee, of course.  Don't forget the coffee.

So Ten Years Ago I Created This Space

It's been almost ten years to the day since I first hit "publish" on this site.

What started as a way to document my training for Ironman became a record of my journey to that start line.  My steps in the finisher's chute.  And, little did I know, a way for me to meet some of the most tremendous people I've been lucky enough to meet in my life.

My posts then were frequent; I often composed them in my head on my long rides. I couldn't wait to get home and write, so I could remember every step of the way. The highs and the lows, the breakthroughs and the times when I wondered how on earth I would ever, EVER, finish an Ironman.

And I did.

I knew in my heart I'd be back someday, but I also knew I had things I wanted to do first.

I traveled: Hawaii, New Orleans, France, England, Mexico, North Carolina, Michigan, California, Texas, the east side of Cleveland. Near and far, new and familiar and back again.

I had the one that changed me forever. And the one that completed our family. And nothing was or ever will be the same. I was permanently rewired, and my heart and eyes see everything differently after those two moments.

I got older and I got faster--every single race after J+E was faster than before. I had some huge breakthroughs and some crushing, heartbreaking defeats.  I made it to Age Group Nationals. I missed qualifying for the Boston marathon by one minute.  I went from back-of-the-pack to usually-toward-the-front in local (and even a few regional!) races, but also learned that both of those spots are pretty fun places to be.

Life got even busier than before, and this site got dusty. Gone were the days where I could linger after coffee for an hour with a good friend or two; enter the days of mad dashes for work after a solo workout in the glory of the toy-filled basement or to pick up the kids while sweaty and nasty and then going to get groceries before grading papers; the days of long runs starting at 6:00am on a Saturday so I could finish the run at the soccer fields by 9.  Luckily, I found some people who were in this world, too, and I learned that there's a time and a season for everything, and this is the season I'm in, and it's just fine.  Someday it will be coffee-shop season again, and that's okay, because there's joy to be had where I am right now.

The days of long posts almost every day are gone, too.  The 140-character world suits my life, but I'm still the girl who wanted to be a writer at heart.  I can't see ever walking away from this space, no matter how dusty it might get.

I signed up for Ironman Wisconsin 2016. A ten-year reunion of sorts.  I'm a lot different than I was when I first hit "publish" here.  I know this time will be quite different than the last.  In a way, I feel like I just found out I was going to have another baby.  There's a few things that I just know the second time around:

1.  I can do this, and I'm a lot stronger than I think.

2.  It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt A LOT.  I'm going to probably scream at times, and maybe swear loudly.  I may punch something or someone nearby. I'll definitely say I'm NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.

3.  There's a great amount of things that I now understand are out of my control, so I have to just roll with it.  It's going to work out somehow, and I'll just need to trust it.

4.  I don't have time to train nearly as much as I did the first time. This second Ironman thing is going to get, to some extent, the minimalist plan. Because I have to. But I'm strong enough and have good guidance to know how hard to push and when I can back away a bit, to build a lego castle or go to a swim meet or play Uno in the grass.  The first time I felt like I had NO TIME FOR ANYTHING I'M TRAINING SEE YOU IN EIGHT MONTHS! and this time, I know better.

5.  This time, also, I know what that finish line feels like. I'm not just imagining it; I know.  And that will get me through the inevitable rough patches (and occasional swearing/punching sessions).

I can't promise daily posts. I can't promise well-thought out posts, either. My posts most likely won't have links or tons of pictures; I'm not expecting many people out there to really follow along. And that's okay. Because when all is said and done, this is a record for me.  This is a story for my two children.  This is the tale of the girl who was always picked last but had a lot of grit and heart and how she finished an Ironman, succeeded some more, failed and fell down a few times, and dusted herself off and clicked "Register" again to see what she was really made of.

Because, like I always like to say, big scary goals make life fun.

So here goes the next journey. The next adventure begins, now.

Race Report: Huntington Triathlon, 2015

This was a race I do every year and a race unlike any other.  It's the shortest race I do and was the hardest for me to get in the water.

On Friday, my friend Shannon posted a frantic post on facebook that her son, Sidney, was missing.  Sid is an amazing 4 year old who also happens to have autism.  I had just seen them all heading to the pool on Thursday and said, "Hey Sid! What's up buddy? Have fun at the pool!"  His mommy, Shannon, is a tremendous mother who always has a smile on her face.

After the softball splash party, I saw he still hadn't been found.  I took the kids home at 10pm, called up Noelle, and headed out about 12 miles west along Lake Erie to get to his grandparents house, where he was last seen.  Shannon believed he was trying to walk home along the coast to Bay Village.

In your heart, you know where this is going.  I did too, but I didn't want to believe it.

I headed home around midnight and couldn't sleep at all.

I got up on Saturday and headed back out with my neighbor Suzy.  We searched door to door, climbed the rocky coast of Lake Erie, and called out for Sid.  We begged him to come out.  I wanted to believe he was just hiding.

The worst happened. When I heard, I collapsed to the ground. I spent the rest of Saturday crying.

I woke up Sunday and the thought of getting into Lake Erie made me sick to my stomach.  But I thought maybe it was what I needed; to get back to the thing that has always made me feel better and reminded me that forward motion is sometimes the only thing you can do.

My swim was awful. Just horrible.  I was all over the place, I kept losing my head in the murky water. I was very, very happy to get out of that water, and my time reflects some of that.

I saw my children and Matt at the top of the hill--they just arrived, and gave me big high fives and shouts.  I tried to keep my emotions in check and accept the blessing of them in front of me.

I hit the bike hard and had a great ride--from what I can tell, I had the 3rd fastest female bike split!  It's so funny that my weakness has become my strength and what started as my strength is my weakness.

The run was AWFUL.  The slowest run I've done in years at that race.  It was humid, yes, but that run was literally 30 seconds slower per mile than the 10K I ran in Vermilion last year at the end of the Olympic race.  I tried to just focus on counting my steps and moving forward and keeping my emotions in check.

I finished holding Emery's hand.  It still makes me tear up to think of it.

I won my age group, despite my not so hot performance in the swim and run.  Somehow I ended up 1/8 in the AG and from what I can tell 6th overall female and about a minute off the podium from 3rd overall (what I was able to do last year).

Sometimes you just have to put one foot in front of the other.  I am glad I made it to this race and it felt good to move after so much fruitless movement in the search and rescue effort.  I am blessed to be able to hug my two little ones after the race, to see their toothpaste globs in the sink, to step on their Legos, to hear them argue over Skylanders.

This race was raw and the events of the next few days will be very difficult.

Forward motion.  Sometimes it's just what you do.

Race Report, Cleveland Half Marathon 2015

....or, Definitely Not My Favorite.
....or, It's Been A While Since A Good Old Fashioned Death March.
....or, Why Spring Races are Just Not A Good Idea For Me.

Okay, so I'm still a little bitter.  But the sting is wearing off a bit and I'm trying to keep the chin up and stay positive.  Long story short? My phone said 100% humidity. All day.  Is that even possible? Is it a swimming pool?  Because it felt like it sort of was.  And humidity and I just don't get along well.  Humidity likes to smack me upside the head like 658,943 times per hour.

So needless to say, my super stretch goal of sub-1:40 was quite laughable.  I ended up with a chip time of 1:49:53, which was a full 10 minutes of this goal.  However, it was only 2 1/2 minutes or so off my previous PR, which is old and not really what I can do now, but still.  Little victories.

The best part about today was kind of like what happened at Cleveland last year.  I'm to the point in my racing where my absolute, wheels-fall-off, want to quit races are still not too far off from what used to be my best.  So I'm not allowed to be too upset here.

Oh, and pretty much everyone I know had crappy days.  Like, most of my marathoner friends were at LEAST 30 minutes off their goal times. THIRTY. MINUTES.

Those poor, poor souls shuffling up the Shoreway...I felt really bad for them while I was drinking my Great Lakes in the Beer Garden after the race.  No really, I swear. I did!

I knew this would be tough, but I guess I didn't realize how tough.  My teammate Mike posted this article about running in humidity and I would say, yeah, that sounds about right.  The pace I could barely--BARELY--hold today was equal to or slower than the pace that I did a good amount of my long runs.  So it was pretty dejecting, but again, everyone had to deal with it, so times were slow across the board.

I started off between the 3:15 and 3:25 pace groups and lined up right by my teammate Jen and the super awesome Meredith who came into town after having a frustrating race in Athens--I was like, oh, hey! That was completely me last year!  And what are the odds I'd like up in between both of them in a race of 20,000?!  That was cool.

The first 2-3 miles I was right on pace, but it felt WAAAAYYYYY too hard.  I knew I was done for, like, before I hit mile 3.  I thought, well, maybe I can just PR today, since that should be something I can do in my sleep at this point as my training was spot-on all winter and spring.

No.  Sigh.

Around mile 3 I started to get angry.  Really, really angry.  I was swearing under my breath, and not under my breath.  Seriously.  I DON'T LIVE IN THE SOUTHEAST FOR A REASON PEOPLE.  Why was this happening?  I was PISSED.  Then I saw Laura from Salty Running.  She's a total badass, and she had a disappointing mile 2 of the 10k (still, her mile 2 was a pace I rarely EVER see, but it meant that she should probably drop out seeing she's an elite).  She asked if I wanted some company, and of course I said yes.

She stayed with me the entire race.  We held hands at the finish, and then I hugged her and cried.  Because, friends.  And because, FRUSTRATION.  But mostly friends.  That was awesome, and there was NO FREAKING WAY I would have finished without her there pushing me.  Or at least I would have spent the last 5k walking if it weren't for her chipper encouragement/harassment to get over the hills and catch "that girl in the teal shirt."  I love her.  Thanks, Salty.  You are the true embodiment of everything that's right with this sport, and I can't thank you enough.

I kept seeing my new Spin-Second Sole Multisport Teammates on the course and it was so great to see them.  They have been awesome about welcoming me to the team, and I certainly didn't want to let them down with my first race in the new kit!  So I kept pushing every time I saw them, which was quite often.  I saw them on bikes, pushing strollers, cheering loudly, AND running. They are good people. I am really looking forward to being a part of them!

My favorite part of the race was at mile 9, when my friend Noelle literally ran onto the course yelling--nay, DEMANDING--that I "open up my shirt" so she could stuff ice cubes down my sportsbra.  Seriously--I love it.  She had asked the night before if I'd need anything and I looked at the weather report and said, "how about some ice?" She decided that just giving me the ice wasn't enough--she wanted to help deliver it.  Best support crew ever, and I'm pretty sure most people in the crowd were laughing with at us.

Also, I ran into my friend Marie who was KILLING IT at Mile 10 and smiling like it was no big deal.  It was great to see her and finally see one person who actually looked like they were having a great race!  She finished really strong and I definitely need to talk her into Columbus. Hear that, Marie? I'm coming for you...

Afterwards I paused for a few pictures, but I hid my race bib because I could just tell this was a race I wasn't going to really want to pay ridiculous amounts to document anyway. So these two pictures are the best ones I have:

Me, and the super awesome Salty--

And me, and the also amazing Krystal, enjoying our very much deserved Great Lakes Brews:

No other pictures are needed from this race.  Those are the only ones I need.

When all was said and done, my 1:49.53 was good enough for 21/418 in the F35-39 AG.  So as rotten as I felt and as disappointed as I was, I can't be too upset with that. It was rough for everyone, and that showed it.

I know I have a faster half in me, but today was not the day.  I think what the past two years of training have done is change my mindset from "That Was A Wasted Training Session" to "WHATEVER. I Am Fitter Now So Screw You Humidity."  I have a great base going into tri season (and yay! Tri season!) and I'll continue to focus on getting stronger to have a great race in Columbus this fall.  

Any finish line is a good finish line, my friends.  Today was still a great day, just not for the reasons I expected it to be.

On to the next goal!

Let me tell you a story

Ten years ago this November, I started writing here to chronicle my Ironman journey.  This was before everything was done in 140 characters or even in status updates.  And that's where I've been, really--no time for much anything else except snippets, retweets, and likes.  Life lately has felt a lot like train, work, kids, sleep, train, work, kids, sleep.

When I was in 5th grade, all I wanted to do was be an author.  I think for that reason this space will never really go blank; at least not permanently.  The rest of the world might move on to snapchats and instagramming, but for me I think I'll always have a space in my heart to need to write more than that.  Even if no one is reading--well, especially if no one is reading.

I'm about to run a hard, fast half marathon on Sunday.  It will be hot--way warmer than I'd like--but I can't really control that so I'm working on letting that go.  There's not much  left to do except control the controllables--sleep, diet, staying positive.  So that's what I'm going to do.

Most of my training has been at 5am on a treadmill during this brutal winter.  Here in CLE, the average--AVERAGE!--temperature for the entire month of February was 15.1F.  So when I needed to run (like, when it was dark and icy), I had to do it on the treadmill.  Luckily, I have some great friends crazy enough to run with me in the cold on the weekends at least, and as always, training with them was such a gift when I had those moments to spare.

Boston came and went, and I was ridiculously happy for my friends and training partners who made it and got to toe that rather cold, rainy, windy line in Hopkintown.  But I'd be lying if I didn't say it was bittersweet.   I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but it was a little bit of pang-filled reminder that I wasn't there. I tried, and I wasn't good enough.  It's okay, because sometimes that happens.  I actually am of the school of thought that it's a good thing that those things happen, that you try your very best and still fall on your face, because it reminds you you're not invincible, and that hard work makes you better but sometimes takes a longer time than you'd like.  It was, and continues to be, a lesson in patience for me--something I definitely need more of.

I spent the better part of the past calendar year stepping away from that goal, because I was really starting to not like what it was doing to me.  So I rekindled my love for triathlon, where I know my heart really is.  It was perfect; it was just what I needed.  And on February 1st--the very first day registration opened--I signed up for the Columbus Marathon.  I felt a tiny bit of the fire coming back.

It felt good.

So I set the goal of going as fast as I can in a spring half, because I've decided that the next Spring Marathon I'll do will just have to be Boston.  No other spring marathon is worth that winter training for me--it's just not.  Done that enough times to know that fall marathons seem to be more my style.  A spring half, however, is a nice tune-up and long enough to make me work hard but not too long that it sucks the life and soul outta me.

The last time I did a standalone half marathon (without a 1.2 mile swim and 56 mile bike ride in front of it!) was in 2009.  Right before I got pregnant with Emery.  It was 1:47.06, and it was a great day.

I've progressed quite a bit since then, but I've been so focused on the marathon quest that I never really got a chance to see just how fast I can run a 13.1.  So that's what I plan to do.

I've been training for a race pace of about a 7:40/mile.  Just typing that sounds pretty freaking insane, seeing as for 9 years I could not run a 5K under a 7:42 mile.  But the body is a pretty crazy thing, and one thing I've learned is that I never gave myself enough credit or believed what my coaches always said to me--there's a lot more fast in here than I give myself credit for.  I've hit all the paces I need on almost every single run, and I stayed injury-free.

I am pretty confident that I will PR; it's just a matter of by how much.  Which is a great place to be, really.  It's kind of liberating.  Just how much is in me, anyway?  I plan on finding out.

Any PR is a good PR, so I may need reminding of that in case something doesn't pan out the way I plan it to.  But I feel good. I feel confident, I feel fast.  I feel like if you told me 5 years ago I'd be gunning for as close to 1:40 as I can get, I'd laugh in your face.  I still have a playlist on my old iPod called "1:54 or Bust" since for years I couldn't even go faster than that.

So I'll tell you a story of a runner who just won't quit.  The story seems to just keep getting better, so I'll write the next chapter on Sunday and let you know how it goes.

Review: Crest HD

I'm back!  It's been a while and I owe you a few race reports, but for now, I have a pretty sweet product to review for you.

Through the Women's Health Action Heroes program, I had the opportunity to try out Crest's Pro-Health HD toothpaste.  I might have just a *teensy* bit of a coffee problem addiction habit, and I am always a little concerned that said habit will turn my pearly whites, well, not-so-pearly.  So, I was super excited to hear about the toothpaste opportunity.  I like that the product boasts that you don't have to choose between your "healthiest smile and your whitest smile."  The product boasts that you will have "6X Whiter Teeth in 1 Week."  Well, bring it.  Because I've been drinking a LOOOOT OF COFFEE, CREST.  Challenge accepted. 

So basically, you first use Step 1 and brush for 1 minute.  Then, you spit, but don't rinse!  That was a little weird at first, but I got used to it.  After 1 minute, then you use Step 2: the polish.  After 1 more minute, you then rinse and you're done!  I was a little concerned about my tooth sensitivity that tends to plague me with any whitestrips I've ever tried, but I started my program last week.

Here's what I loved:

1.  TWO MINUTES!  MINIMAL COMMITMENT!  I can't tell you how many times I've started those Whitestrips packs only to be completely over it by about Day 3.  I just am no good at finding 30 minute blocks of time to wear strips on my teeth, so I was super excited to just commit 2 minutes of my life morning and night.  But, would it work?

2.  YES--it absolutely did work!  Within 3-4 days I noticed my teeth not only felt smoother but looked significantly whiter.  I am sold! 

3.  My very sensitive teeth were not at ALL bothered by this product!  That is HUGE. Usually my teeth have shooting pain from some of the whitestrips that I've tried in the past, so this is probably the most positive thing I can say about the product, aside from the fact that it just plain works.

So there you have it!  Check them out and tag your success stories at #HealthyObsession and #CREST!

Race Report: Rev3 Cedar Point 70.3

People, I owe you SO MANY REPORTS that I don't even know where to start.  The race reports are always the reports I refer back to the most and I know that I really need to record this stuff.  It was just an unconventional summer--we took a trip to Europe, lost a dear loved family member, and then I went to study the Constitution at Stanford University at the end of July.  In the meantime I completed three races: the Huntington Sprint Triathlon, the Vermilion Harbor Olympic Triathlon, and the Rev3 Cedar Point 70.3 Triathlon.  How can I explain everything that happened to you?  Because there's a LOT.


Here's the short answer: I set a course PR--and several actual PRs, including my best 10k--in every. single. race. and after a previous 8 months of heartaches and disappointments and near-misses in my races, finally got the joy back that got me into this sport in the first place.

Related: I am SO not a runner at heart.  I always have known this, but it's confirmed without a doubt.

The long answer:  get your popcorn and buckle up kids, because this will be a long one.

I didn't even register for Rev3 until, like, 3 weeks before the race.  Things were just so crazy this summer...we had both the most amazing and worst summer ever.  It went so fast and was such a whirlwind of emotions that Matt and I felt like we didn't even get a break, which is insane considering the break we had.  Throw a few kids in the mix, preparing for our jobs which were changing significantly, and, well, spoiler alert: I didn't train as much as I'd like to.  I'm a broken record on that, right? But I've already made it clear that I'm not training as much as you or probably anyone.  And that's just gonna have to be okay.

I knew I was fit, and I knew I had made significant run progress, as evidenced by my performance in Vermilion.  So I went ahead and pulled the (VERY EXPENSIVE, ouch) trigger.

Now, if I'm going to plunk down that kind of change for a race, you'd better believe I have some big goals.  My previous 70.3 was when Emery was 6 months old (and that, my friends, is what I call a "poor life decision") where I somehow PRd massively with a 5:44.  I knew that I was much stronger than that this time around, so my "perfect day" goal was a sub-5:30.  Here's what that would look like:

Swim: 38 and change
Bike 2:50ish
Run 1:50ish
Plus transitions to get to a little under 5:30.

This is what I know, without a doubt, that I can do.  So I decided to go hard or go home and see what happened.

I headed out to Cedar Point to spend the night in a cabin with my friends Andy and Noelle and their families.  This was super awesome as it allowed me to get settled in without having to get up at 4am and drive to the start like I did last time.  We grabbed some dinner hit the hay early on.

THE SWIM:

I didn't get to start until 8:45.  Ew. I hate late starts, but the Full Rev swimmers started at 7 and safety and blah blah blah I get it but that doesn't mean I don't get to hate it.  I was one of the final waves, and speaking of waves, holy crap, they were picking up.  The lake is rarely calm near Cedar Point, but this was starting to really look bad. I did a little warmup and got tossed around quite a bit.  I breathed in and just tried to focus on my stroke and remind myself that this is my 6th 70.3, I've been here many times before, and I know how to swim in chop.

It's impossible not to look like an idiot in a wetsuit and cap. So I embrace it.

Andy was off 10 minutes ahead of me and it was hard not to notice the waves knocking over swimmers as they were wading out to the start line.  By the time my wave waded out, waves were so big that they knocked us over.  I seemed to time my jumps exactly wrong and ended up with a face full of nasty lake waves like three times before I even started.  We had to swim directly into the waves, and all of us were officially panicking.  It was very, very rough.

This is what I call "Less Than Ideal Conditions"

I heard the horn, jumped over one more wave, and off I went.

It was, without a doubt, the worst swim of any 70.3 I've ever done.  The chop was so horrible that sighting was virtually impossible.  I had to do breastroke often just to ensure that I was not going the wrong direction--as in completely turning around wrong direction.  People were PANICKING.  A jet-ski flew by me after a swimmer who was freaking out.  I caught some of the men in the wave--or two--ahead of me before I even got out to the first buoy. My arm went up to take a stroke and, on several occasions, was smashed down by a cresting wave.

The only thing I kept thinking was, "Breathe, stroke, glide, pull. You've been a swimmer all your life, and you're fine."  And I didn't freak out.  But people all around me were, and it made me scared to see them so panicked.  That's when bad things happen.

After the last turn, I saw a guy with his eyes closed floating on his back.  I stopped, screamed "HEY!" at him and when he didn't move I got really really worried and yelled, "ARE YOU OKAY?"  He finally heard me and said, yeah, she's going to get me, and waved in the general direction of the kayakers.

I know, those waves look innocent...trust me, people. Miserable chop.

I finally made it out.  I am smiling because IT WAS OVER THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU and I was just so glad to be out of there.

I'm laughing at A) my horrible, awful split and B) the fact that IT'S OVER

Please, please people out there reading: swimming in open water is no joke.  It is WAY different than a pool.  I am just so glad disaster did not strike and everyone came out of the water alive.  They pulled 60 people out of the swim on Sunday.  Training for the swim, and for the worst case scenario in open water, is absolutely vital for your safety, not just for your race. I'll stop lecturing you now.  I just can't help it: it makes me scared to see so many people who don't feel comfortable swimming get into situations like that.  It ain't right.

My time? 42 minutes and change. Embarrassing.

I said mucho swear words under my breath and literally could not believe I was already 5 freaking minutes off my goal coming OUT OF THE WATER.  That did not just happen.  Except, yes it did, and I'd better get moving so I can pick up the pieces.

The official time: 42:13
Age Group Position 3/23

You have got to be kidding me: I swam a 42 minute leg and I was 3rd in my AG?! Either everyone else is HORRIBLE or the weather messed with everyone else even more than it messed with me.  Because I am just not that good.  So, I'm happy I remained calm and kept my wits about me.

TI: 2:33

The Bike:

Rolling out of T1!

Okay! My best part! I can regain some territory here!  I took off and tried to hold a good steady pace throughout the bike.  I was flying by people initially and felt great.  It was a clear, sunny, beautiful morning, and really, Lake Erie is pretty breathtaking like that.  I soaked in the scenery as I tried to settle into a rhythm.  I focused on nutrition and taking in enough fluids while also settling my seasick stomach.  About 10 miles in I really tried to settle into the pace.

The course is mostly flat with some rollers and a little bit of false flat/wind to deal with.  But here's the deal:

I just didn't feel it.

For some reason, right around mile 25 or so, I felt flat. Just no pep.  Not the usual "I'm going to kick so much ass today" feeling like I usually get on the bike.  Yeah, there was a little wind, but nothing that I should have been letting get to me...I don't know what the deal was.  I think that swim might have taken more out of me than I wanted to admit, despite my attempts to swim smooth and remain calm.  I dunno, but for whatever reason, I got back to T2, looked down, saw "2:57" on my PowerTap and literally made this face:
 
So not impressed.  That was crap.  I'm much stronger than that.

Oh, stupid mistake, too--I forgot to take off "auto lap" on my Garmin watch, so it took all 56 miles as "laps" and right around mile 54 decided to say it was out of memory.  Awesome.  Because I ONLY NEED YOU FOR THE RUN.  So I fumbled with it and tried to clear the memory while I rode.  Not good.  Very annoyed.

Bike time: 2:57.31 (literally, the same time I had in 2010)
Age Group Place:  3/23

Now, I knew my big goal was officially OUT the window.  Poop sandwich.  BUT! I can still go under 5:44.  The run was where I wanted to see the biggest gains and where I should see the biggest gains, so I vowed to myself that this craptastic effort so far was not all for nothing.  I could still have a good run, and I'd set myself up for it with good nutrition and a day that was warm but not too hot at all.

It was time to get into beast mode. Finally.

I put on my racing flats, because I thought, hey! they might make me faster! (another "poor life decision")

T2: 1:22

Off I went--Andy had a solid bike and had caught me around mile 40, so I tried to keep him in my sight.  Man, he was moving though.  My first mile was 8 flat, and I knew that was too aggressive. I tried to back off a bit but felt good at 8:15s so I figured I'd hold on as long as I could and just risk it, because at this point, I had nothing to lose.  I passed my buddy Tiffany who was running the relay, and said, "I might regret this later!" and she laughed and told me to keep going.

I held the pace pretty well for the first 5 miles or so.  Somewhere in there I passed Andy, which confused me--turns out he hit the bathroom but then I was paranoid that I missed a turn!  I asked this girl next to me, "this is the right way, right?" and she assured me that it was. As I ran away she said, "Strong pace! I want some of your energy!" so that was a nice boost.  I tried to tell every single police officer and volunteer that I could thank you, because that's just a thankless and kind of boring volunteer job.

Around mile 6 or 7, I started getting that nauseous/sick/dizzy feeling.  Oh no, I thought.  Here it comes.  So I pounded a Gu and took a few eCaps just to try and get ahead of the bonk.  It was warm, but not hot--but the sun on the asphalt was really cooking things up, and I'm definitely a salty sweater.  It worked, and I managed to keep the pace hovering around 8:30-8:35.  My Garmin had the mile markers 0.2 miles off which is pretty significant and definitely messed with me, so I just tried to at least keep the pace consistent.

After Mile 9 or so things got hard, but good.  Like, people around me were dropping like flies.  But I wasn't! I was tired, and my legs were heavy, and I knew that I didn't have too much left, but I kept thinking, "just a half hour or so, and then you can see the finish line."  I can do anything for a half hour.  Right?  Except that at this point of the course it's extremely boring with nothing but old businesses and not many spectators.  So I tried really hard to just focus on my steps and my breathing.  Every step I made was one step closer to home, and I was ready for home.

The last 2 miles or so on the causeway leading up to the park.  Last time I did this race, it was hella windy and I might have said a few F bombs because of it.  This time, it wasn't too windy, just hot and isolated and OMG I AM READY TO BE DONE NOW THANK YOU.  My legs were starting to feel heavy, I was hovering now right around 9:00/mile pace, and I knew that I was running out of steam.  Due to the watch debacle I had no clue what my overall time was, so I just tried to go as hard as my body let me and figured I'd hopefully still have a shot at a PR.  I knew that my run wasn't going to be 1:50, but hey, the best I've EVER ran at the end of a 70.3 is 2:02.  And I was going to be well under that.  Victory is mine.

Making that last turn, I just had this stupid grin on my face.  I was so happy with that run--sometimes, it's a gamble and it's a fine line and I'm still learning, but sometimes, if you ease up on the bike just a bit, you can gain huge minutes on the run.  Maybe if I had rode harder, I would have blown up and lost 10-15 minutes on the run, because lemme tell you folks, I HAVE BEEN THERE.  It is not fun.  Part of what I love about the 70.3 distance is that it's so hard to execute perfectly, and it's such a learning process.  I know I can go a bit harder on the bike and still have a decent run, but to see an 8 minute gain on the run?  Yeah, that made my rotten swim and bike a little more palatable.

Saw my friends and they snapped this video accidentally--Patty was trying to take a pic, but I like it!

And then, saw Matt and the kids, and we got to do this:

Total Run Time:  1:54.49
Age Group Place: 3/23

Overall Time: 5:38.29
Age Group: 4/23 (don't ask me how it's 4...but it is, I checked, and the 3 spot went to a girl 5 minutes faster, so I'm not sure how it happened but it's all good)
23/153 Total Females
100/447 Total Finishers

70.3 PR by 6 minutes!

So it wasn't the perfect day I had trained for, but really, when is it?  Hitting that sweet spot is so tricky, and as my friend so eloquently put it, sometimes the journey is the sweet spot.  Given my life situation now, the fact that I can't train nearly as much as I'd like to, and that I keep getting older (funny how that happens), I am absolutely thrilled with this race.  I got faster. Again.  What I thought was a limit, quite simply, never was.  My first 70.3 was in 2005, and I went 6:33--and the swim was short, so that time should be longer.  My second was 6:47.  I have gone from solidly--VERY solidly--back of the pack, to this--a top 15% female finish.  And I'll never be a pro and I'm never going to win these things, but in the competition against myself? I'm killing it.

The first part of this season--well, the better part of the last year, actually, if I'm being honest--was spent frustrated and dejected.  And I hated that.  I hated that I worked so hard and made so much progress and was upset, because that is just ridiculous.  But maybe, just maybe, all of that work paid off in the past three races I've done.  I still owe you race reports, but the short version is:  3rd overall female in my summer sprint, and the fastest 10K I have ever clocked, 6th overall, and a course PR in the Vermilion Olympic.  

My heart is with triathlon, and I know this.  I sort of always have.  It is so nice to have the joy of the finish line again, and not have it laced in a feeling of defeat.

I don't know what I want to do next.  There's a tiny pull toward another BQ attempt, but I tell you what--I had so much fun in the past 8 weeks doing triathlons, that I am honestly not sure.  We'll see.

For now, I still have a pretty big grin on my face.  But oh, dear, those racing flats?  Let's just say my toes look like something out of the Walking Dead.  Trust me--you don't want to look.

Excited to have a little "off season" now, and so, so, so happy with the way these races played out.  On to the next finish line, wherever it may be.