Welcome to the Sub 10-hr Club!

There is one thing I realized before this Ironman: It's too long of a race to get too nervous about. That being said I still didn't get more than 3 hours of sleep the night before, but that was to be expected...

B and I flew out to Tempe Thursday night, arrived after midnight thanks to a 2 hr delay in Denver, and finally made it to bed around 2 a.m. The next day was filled with registration, pro meeting, checking out the area, waiting for mom to get into town and trying to stay as hydrated as possible. It's funny, even though you think you have a schedule to go by, little things come up and you end up running around the whole day. I woke up Saturday with sore lower legs thanks to all the walking we did the day before, in Crocs. Oops, rookie mistake- never try something new right before a race, in this case walking. Thankfully it didn't bother me on my pre race run, swim or ride. The water in Tempe Town Lake was cold to say the least. It took a good 5 mins of standing at the edge and dipping my feet in to ready myself to take the plunge. (not sure how people do those polar bear plunges) Once I submerged myself I immediately felt my feet cramping from the cold. I swam out and back on the course for a few minutes and felt like my extremities had turned solid, along with my face feeling like it was stuck in snow. A quick stair stepping practice at the swim exit (we all had been warned about the "difficulty" of getting out of the water and missing a step and since you couldn't see a thing in the murky water, I didn't want to risk slicing a leg open upon exiting or something) It's a good thing I got my mom into triathlon because I ended up using her wetsuit since mine is always impossible to get out of.

Race morning came and I was tired. As I headed down to the lobby of the hotel to have a forced breakfast at 4:45 a.m., I felt dizzy with tiredness. Hoping that pre race nerves would kick in and combining it with a bit of coffee, I eventually snapped out of it when I arrived at the transition area in the dark, with thousands of other athletes. I checked my tire pressure and thought the rear was a bit low. (on my practice ride the day before I went thru some glass and ended up peeling 2 shards out of the tire, leaving me a bit paranoid, even though we deflated tire, checked tube and rim to make sure) It took 3 different pumps to get the pressure to where I wanted it, but thankfully the tire would not cause any problems during the race.


Before I knew it we were called to the start and I said my goodbyes and waited to be let in to the freezing cold dark waters. We were told to just jump in and swim away from shore right away to let others follow safely. I did a quick lifeguard rescue jump and surprisingly didn't lose my breath as I submerged myself into the dark abyss that is Tempe Town Lake at 6.45 a.m. We then had to swim a good 200m to the start where we treaded water for another 5 mins before- boom- the cannon went off and I pressed the start button on my watch.
Pro Start

Having talked to Caroline (who pr'd 6 weeks after doing Kona!) right before the start I got some good pointers as to where to line myself up for the best swim. I stayed near the outside by the wall, and found myself right by eventual first and second place finishers. I warmed up surprisingly well and had a pretty uneventful swim with no rough spots except for the slow oncoming cramp in my hip flexor (I was probably kicking too hard- not) for which I had to do a few breast strokes. I swam mostly by myself and sighted every few strokes to make sure I was still on course. (There was some sort of current that made me drift.) Before I knew it I was hoisting myself up the steps ever so carefully and ran right into the arms of wetsuit strippers who tore that thing off me and had me worried I would lose my bottoms. (I was wearing bikini bottoms and sports bra only for swim since I wanted clothes to be as dry as possible for bike, which was supposed to be chilly starting out) Wetsuit in arms, I ran what seemed like 1/2mi down the concrete path to the transition area, grabbed my bag and made my way into the changing tent, where I was greeted by two volunteers who helped sort my stuff. Note to self- when wet and trying to put on a race top with internal sportsbra, make sure you practice beforehand- it took me three tries to get it on going from backwards, to tangled up to sideways... I am pretty sure I had the slowest T1 of all the pros. After changing into bike shorts as well and putting on arm warmers (which as it turns out, I didn't really need) I ran another 1/4mi to grab my bike and start the ride. My swim time was under 1:01- goal number one met.

I got into a comfortable rhythm on the bike pretty quick and enjoyed my ride out of town, anxious for the Beeline Hwy, as I had not pre ridden the course at all. Sure enough, just as promised, the winds picked up as soon as I turned onto it, and the false flat going up to the turn-around slowed my pace into the teens. However, the way back into town took 15mins less than the trip out and I averaged 30+mph in some spots. Completed my first loop dead on goal pace, or so I thought in my semi-delirious state of mind. I started doing some math in my head to the best of my abilities and realized that if I could keep up this pace I would finish the second loop in 3:30, and if I stayed even after that, I could possibly ride sub 5:20. I didn't want to jinx anything so I just kept plugging away.

On the second loop, the winds picked up some more on the way out, but I managed an even split. Trying my very best to prevent a bonk I made sure to force down my bento box goodies as best as I could, along with a salt tab every turnaround. I did get some slight bouts of nausea, but the salt and food I was able to stomach, kept it at bay. However, it was a fine line, I actually had to sit up a few times to let out some burps that were collecting as I was drinking Gatorade in aero. On the third loop the winds on the way out were non existent and I passed people left and right. It almost felt like an out-of body experience because my legs were turning over like a machine, but it felt effortless and I literally had to hold myself back.

Interestingly though, just as I suspected, the winds had turned and now posed a headwind on the way back into town so that my 30mph average dropped 5-7mph. Realizing that I would ride well below my goal time of 5:35-5:45 (I wasn't sure what to expect from this course, a lot can happen in 112mi and I only had one experience to draw from, where I rode 6:12 and was absolutely cooked after) I got excited and ready to tackle the marathon. As soon as I dismounted, my rear bottle cage, which was holding my precious Mtn Dew and spare tire, dropped down on the concrete, I just laughed. It had become loose somewhere after the first loop and had me a little on edge every time we went over some bumps. Turns out one of the screws lost its head... Perfect timing for it to fall off when it did though. I rode well below my "dream" bike split of 5:20, coming into to T2 at 5:16 and change. Wahoo! I could go on some more about the bike leg, but who really wants to hear more drafting complaints...
End of bike leg, photo c/o www.pbase.com

I shot in and out of T2 (compared to my T1) and was out on the run course. Things were heating up temperature-wise, and after a pit stop at the porta john, I stocked up at the first available aid station with sponges and coke. I only consumed about 1/2 the nutrition I had packed into my bento box on the bike, so I knew that to keep from running out of gas, I would need to force down gels. (I really dislike gels, I never eat them, except in marathons when I am forced to by my body. Surprisingly, PowerBar Apple flavor gel actually tastes kinda good!)

I was feeling pretty good, focused on turnover, and I was moving! I was passing people back who had passed me earlier on the bike (my favorite thing in a triathlon :-)) But I kept telling myself I had 26.2mi to run, which is a long way, and things can go from great to shitty in an instant. I was ready and prepared with more salt to prevent possible cramping in my legs and feet (which I had experienced in January at the RnR AZ marathon where I took no salt) and although I could not stomach any more Gatorade, I had plenty of Coke at each aid station, along with water and my own bottle of Nuun. I completed loop #1 of 3 right on target, running under 7:30min miles. I started adding up numbers in my head again, but then distracted myself quickly knowing I still had 17 more miles left to go.
Passing through my favorite aid station on the run. photo c/o finishline-multisport.com


I want to give a special shout-out to the first aid station after turning off the path on the way out. Not sure if it was the PTC but each time I came through, I had someone run up to me and ask what I needed, yelling out for me whatever I whispered to them. It was a really nice gesture and it made me feel like I was a true pro :-)

Up to halfway through the second loop I was feeling downright great, even though I was constantly on the verge of cramping despite the salt. At one point, coming through an aid station, an AG'er cut me off to reach the sponges being offered and made me skip a step, which immediately sent a cramp to my feet and made me stop to stretch it out. That's where I got my first taste of the damage done to my legs. My calves were as tight as a rope and slowly turning into tennis balls. I ventured on, trying to ignore all pains creeping in, and kept chipping away. The concrete paths were unforgiving and so were the inclines up the bridges and hills, especially after mi20. With a lap to go I realized that unless I started walking, I would break 10 hrs. My emotions became a mixed bag of absolute bliss and joy to holding back tears and keeping it together. So close, yet so far away! I could hear Mike Reilly announce the first few finishers on the other side of the lake, and with 5k to go I picked up the pace again, which according to my splits had slowed down to 8min miles- oops. (My run split was within my goal range, although, to be completely honest, I wanted to run sub 3:20. Next time!)

At this point I was running on fumes, so very anxious to get to the finish, trying to hold back the tears. I floated down the finish chute, slapping hands and missing most, as my eyes were too watery to see straight, and then I pressed the button on my watch for the second time and it read 9:47. It's hard to describe how I felt but I started sobbing, in a good way, which I never have after a race. Everything flooded my mind ranging from my ups and downs this racing season, the endless hours on the trainer (which had me on the verge of insanity at points), the hard and long bricks, the doubts if it would ever all be worth it, the sacrifices made, the patience requested from my family- this was my reward, not just for myself, but for them as well. This made it all worthwhile.
Final meters to the finish

Disbelief...

...and tears

If someone had told me at the beginning of the year that I would break 10 hours in an Ironman, I would have told them "thanks but I don't think so." My reasonable goal for this race was 10:20-10:30. I had flirted with 9:59 if I had a dream race and everything went seamless, but I never thought I would go sub 9:59. I had also flirted with the idea of a top 10 pro finish, but looking at the extensive entry list, which included several top Kona finishers, I didn't really have any expectations other than to do as well as I could within my own capabilities. The top 13 women all went under 10 hours. I finished tenth after passing 5 women on the run, and came within 2 minutes of 9th place. Thank you B for believing that I could do this, he thought I was well capable of this time, while I had my doubts. This result gives me a tremendous sense of confidence after my rough first IM experience a year ago. Throughout the season I had some doubts whether or not I made the right decision to turn pro this year, as I felt that at times I was simply not "there" yet. This ironman showed me that with enough perseverance and determination, combined with the right amount of training and patience, I was able to take a huge step up to the next level. And I was able to do all this without any fancy gadgets like power meters or garmins or even a HR monitor or a coach.

I could not have asked for a better end to my season, and now I can take that off- season of unstructured training and not worry about the next snow storm and how I am going to fit my workouts in. A big thank you to Scott with Fuji for letting me ride the D-6 dream machine, which helped make me feel like I belonged on the pro rack :-), to KSwiss for letting me run in their shoes this year, and everyone else who chipped in along the way. Thank you to my family who came out to support me, who were there to witness me have my best race this season, without them I still wouldn't be able to afford this sport. This PR is a thank-you to you guys! Thanks also to everyone who rooted for me on the course and back at the computer at home. Although they may not read this, the race volunteers made it all happen for us out there, thank you all for standing on your feet handing out hundreds of drinks and sponges throughout the day, the race wouldn't take place without you.

I am limping around like a total gimp today, and probably still will be for a few days to come. Every inch of my body and skin is sore. It's a reminder of what I put myself through I guess. I am already excited for next season, and I can't wait to put it all on the line again! The best is yet to come! Thanks for reading~

3rd Time's A Charm in AZ

Just a quick update before I fall asleep for at least 12 hours. It's still a bit of a whirl wind since I raced yesterday, barely slept and am now back home. I think I can safely say that this event was one of those rare occasions where everything just comes together in a race and clicks. I knew that AZ had been good to me in previous races this year and yesterday did not disappoint. I am still shocked at my time, but thrilled and excited and tired and so sore I can barely move. Thank you to all who rooted for me and sent me congrats, it means a ton. A full report later on.
9:47.44!!! :-)

7 Days Away...

Yes, I am counting. It is getting close to Christmas (or so it seems with all the snow we've been getting) and my body wants to hibernate, so waking up tomorrow and starting "race week countdown" will add some excitement to what has been a loooong season of training. My reward comes next Sunday in the form of a 2.4mi swim, a 112mi bike ride and a 26.2mi run. While I have the usual pre- race anxieties such as "have I really done enough long rides/ runs?, does 4 hrs on the trainer really count as 5 1/2 to 6 outside?, will my body remember how to go long after this taper?, am I ready to race in warmer temps while training in the 30s?, am I tapering too little/too much? " etc, I can't wait to start this race next Sunday, along with 65 (!) other pros and who knows how many age groupers. I am excited to give this distance another shot, to go back and prove that I can conquer the distance and actually try to race a little this time around instead of just hanging on by a thread while doing the death march shuffle. I know what to expect this time around, and I have completed the toughest race to back me up.

Having talked to people who have done both (Kona and AZ) gives me confidence that this time will be just a bit easier. However, fact is, it's still an Ironman and the pain will inevitably show up at some point. I'm excited to go back to AZ for a third time this year, my two previous races there were pretty successful, and they say third time's a charm, right? With friends racing as well, and family support on the sidelines, it's bound to be a good time. Not to mention I get to race on one of the most beautifully crafted, rocket ship-like bikes: I'm actually REALLY excited to show this one off in my transition space :-). So, a few more days of R&R and then it's off to sunny Tempe. I am racer #62 and as always, there will be coverage online at ironman.com as well as on universalsports.com with all day live coverage (I believe).

Taking A Day Off

Sounds easy, right? Well for endurance junkies like me, who train hours each day, this can be harder than lacing up your shoes or getting in the saddle for yet another run or ride. I am taking today off. Not doing a thing to break a sweat. (well, except for shoveling some snow) And although I really want to enjoy this rare day of the week, somewhere deep down a voice is telling me to get out and train, and keeps coming up with various workouts I could be doing.

The key is to ignore that voice ofcourse, and thankfully I could not have picked a better day to take off. It is October and we are in the midst of a huge Blizzard here on the Front Range, one that has dropped over a foot of snow already and is not supposed to let up until tomorrow sometime. Add some wind and slush to the mix, and going outside becomes a lot less desirable, especially when getting ready for a hot race. On top of it, I have a sore throat and feel a little off, so hopefully I can outsmart any cold/flu that is trying to wreak havoc with my body.


But all day, the voice has been telling me to suck it up and bundle up to get out. However, I am putting my foot down and taking a well deserved rest day. Like they say, rest is just as, if not more, important than the training. It is the time your body adapts to the stresses it's been put through and it gives you a chance to digest those workouts, both mentally and physically. Over the past few weeks I have spent more hours on the trainer than I'd like to admit, and right now just looking at it, makes me mad :-) This fall is definitely not ideal for Ironman training, and I am hoping that the trainer rides will pay off somehow, as I have not gotten all the long rides in that I would have liked. With about a week and a half left of training before taper starts, I am hoping this snow will melt enough to head out at least a few more times. For now, I have half a day of complete rest left before I head out on the usual routine again tomorrow.
Exercise for today- walking to get coffee

Train safe and thanks for reading.

Evolution Of An Endurance Athlete

As I was sitting glued to the computer for a good amount of Saturday watching the Big Dance unfold before my eyes in the comfort of my own home, it occured to me that I am, without a doubt, a huge fan of Endurance Sports. The kind that brings out all kinds of human emotions and displays the best of the Human Spirit. The kind that triggers your own emotions as you watch people and hope that they pull through, and ultimately come out on top when they realize their dreams. For me, the Ironman is the greatest display of the human spirit and to have been part of it once has only made me hungrier for more, to draw on my experience, to race smarter and to dig deeper. To cross that finish line after putting your body through so much is one of the greatest elations to experience. But how does one get there? We all start somewhere, and this is how I arrived in the sport of long distance triathlon.

I guess I'll start at the very beginning, or at least the part I can still remember. I was six years old and in first grade and I was living in the former GDR. (that is East Germany for those who don't know) The country had a really good filter system for detecting athletes early on. It was on a day we had gym class and we were lined up, weighed, measured and asked some family history. We were then given a couple of choices as to what sport we'd best be suited for, and it was up to our parents to decide which one to enter us in. (if any) For me, my choices were either basketball ( I was a tall first grader), swimming, or Track and Field. Because of the young age, my parents thought it to be best to enroll me in swimming. And so it (unbeknownst to me) began. I started swimming on a team a few times a week and by fourth grade the sport became pretty serious with long practices and swim meets on the weekends. My best stroke was always Breast Stroke and looking back, I put up some pretty serious times!

I started to feel a little burned out by 6th grade (which was now the age where the serious weeding of future Olympians began) Swimming twice a day just didn't do it for me, but I did enjoy the cross training sessions which included running laps around the track. I quit halfway through 6th grade and pretty much did no sports until I entered high school, at which point I was living in the US. There I joined the swim team and had fun on a more relaxed level. It was a one season sport however, so I started to do a little running on my own. It was very painful. I still remember the first run with my mom, 40 minutes and it seemed like an eternity. But I also remember how good I felt after that run, and so I kept on it and never stopped since :). My senior year I joined the XC and track teams and had some moderate success, even making it to States in the 2-mile. There was one time though where I squeezed in a little extra runtime after we only ran about 20min in practice, and my coach "caught" me running and almost scolded me for doing something I enjoyed. I never understood at the time, but I knew I was a distance athlete and I liked to go long.

Per my coaches urging for me to keep going in college, I walked on my college XC and track team as well and ended up being the Number one distance runner for all 4 years I was there. I ran the mile, up to 10k but it felt like there was something missing. Something greater I wanted to accomplish. And so I signed up for my first marathon after I graduated and completed the 2002 NYC Marathon in 2:56 to the surprise of both my coach and myself. With obvious potential at longer distances, I threw myself into running, lots of running and tried unsuccessfully over the next couple of years to better my marathon time. I could not even get back under three hours, and in 2005 after yet two more 3+ hr marathons and injuries, I needed a rest from pounding my legs. A friend urged me to try triathlon and so after a 10 year hiatus from the pool, I started swimming again, only this time, at altitude. It hurt alot and I wasn't sure I could ever get in shape again.

I dabbled in a few tris the following summer, and even managed a sub 5 hr half ironman in my second attempt. I knew I had found a new passion and started training with a purpose again. I had goals, ranging from winning my age group at local (yet highly competitive) local races in Boulder to seeing where I stacked up on the national level. I did the 2007 National Championship and felt pretty inexperienced without a clue who my competition was or what good splits were, and finished 7th in my A.G. and 17th overall. Not bad, but not great. Obviously Olympic distance wasn't my calling... Then in 2008 I had an idea. Why not try to see if I could qualify to race in Hawaii at the most famous triathlon of them all? Sure I had heard about the heat and the wind and the distance and the pain, but what overshadowed it all, was the prestige and the fact that it was the World Championship of Ironman. So what if it would be my first one? And besides, I would be in Hawaii, the islands of Aloha!
Low and behold I did win my age group at BSLT 70.3 even though I felt like I had the slowest race ever... and so I was slaphappy to accept my Kona slot without a second thought.

Then came the big reality check. I started piling on the miles over the summer, testing myself with every increase in distance. Up to last year I had not ridden over 60 mi on a bike and hadn't run more than 90 min for a long run in a few years. After gallons of sweat lost and replaced, I found myself in pretty good (and tan :0) shape at the end of summer. I had done my century rides and my bricks and my 3 hr long runs and I felt like I could handle this ironman thing. Then I arrived in Kona and was overwhelmed by the amount of compression sock, bright shoes and tight shorts wearing folks, not to mention they all looked like they belonged on the cover of some uber fitness magazine. I had to trust that I had done the work and was ready, just like them. Because just because you have the fittest body, doesn't necessarily mean you will get to the finish line first, at least not in Ironman. I started my day with a panic cry right before I had to say good-bye to family, then stared at the day before me (as was captured forever by the blueseventy Kona ad above), continued on with several more cries of frustration, pain and hopelessness, and ended it with my eyes closed crossing the finish, probably not having enough fluids left in me to cry some more. (see bottom pic of blog) And it wasn't until weeks and months later that I realized how much of an impact that race had on me. They say it changes you as a person and I now fully believe that it does. Ironman has taught me to suffer, to suffer when you want it to be over because you're not done yet, and to push through the physical pain you experience while you are out there giving your all for 9,10,11 or more hours.

So now I near the 4 weeks out mark from my next big test and I am preparing to the best of my abilities to not repeat any of my rookie mistakes from last year's race, and to be open to the challenges the day may bring, to embrace the pain it will certainly induce, and to savor every moment, because even though it hurts so bad,when you think you can't take another step because your legs will crumble from fatigue, it is me who wants to do this race in the first place, to see that the human body can handle more than we allow ourselves to believe at times, to break down barriers others say exist, to let former doubters know that all those hours spent working out were for a reason, that we are not crazy because we run for 3 hrs or bike for 6 and enjoy it too. And lastly I am giving it my best shot because I want to taste the salt water again, and feel the winds push me across the road, and conquer the heat on the run, so that I can once again run down that magical stretch of road that you find nowhere else, in the finishing steps of that 140.6mi journey. It won't be easy, but I will try my best.

Du Worlds Photos

A bit more stiff, swollen and sore today, mostly from my dive into the pavement. I'm hoping this will subside within a few days, so for now it's lots of ibuprofen and mostly r&r. Here some images of the race:

Pre Ride the day before

My own personal transition space!

Start of the race at the official Nascar Start




Had to run this hill up 5 times during the runs, ouch.

Bike-Out

My Japanese buddy and I pacing...

Second run

home stretch, pure pain. Notice my no longer existing race number on that arm, the pavement took care of it

4 members of Team USA post-race

My stellar photographer and I. Thank you B!

Duathlon Worlds/ First Crash/ Gutting it Out

Well, it had to happen at some point, and I guess today was the day. I might have jinxed myself by talking about the possibility of it but hoped it wouldn't happen. Sucks to have taken place at a world championship, but at least I got it out of the way? (I hope anyway) I am now the proud owner of some road rash warrior wounds. Most importantly though, I didn't mess up my brandnew USAT Speedo uniform, I surely thought my left cheek was hanging out after I collected inventory. But lets back up.

I came to Concord, NC, seemingly "capital fast food chains/ mall strips USA", to see what I could do competing against the best in the world at this sport. My experience dates back 2 years in this sport with a total of hm, maybe 6 races? With a second place at Nationals and most all girls I raced there, racing here today on Team USA, I was psyched for a good showing. Duathlon, after all, is not what it is in Europe. Most people have no idea what it even consists of. We were up against some of the best athletes in the sport, who also just happen to excel at ITU triathlon racing. In other words, tough as nails athletes! We were warned the race would go out fast, like sub 35 min fast. I planned to just run hard and treat each segment of the race as an individual race in itself.

Over the course of the week, the forecast for today became increasingly rainy. Not that I mind running in it, but riding a bike on a draft legal crit course is a different story. I remained optimistic that the forecasters were wrong. Then it started raining last night, which was a great relief to the 90 degree/ 90% humidity temps we'd been experiencing. However, it would make the race that much more interesting. I awoke to wet roads and mist this morning. It was just getting light out around 7 a.m., time that the Junior races started. Poor things, I felt bad for them. Luckily they only raced half the distances we did.

When we arrived at the race site, the men's junior race was in full effect and it was raining lightly and the roads around the Nascar race track we wet. Yes, we raced on the Lowe's Speedway race track, which was cool- until I hit the ground. We were to do one loop outside the track and then come in to the race track to do a figure 8 loop inside the track. There were many, many turns and slick road surfaces. More on that in a bit.

The race started with the athletes being called by name to the start line. That was kind of cool. Then, without much warning, the gun went off and immediately a pack formed of about 10 of the fastest runners. I was leading the chase pack for a good 2/3s of the race. We did 4 loops including an out and back section each time, as well as a steep ascent through a tunnel, which pretty much slowed me to a pedestrian pace each time. I was hurting bad after 1 lap. The pace was torrid (for me at least). But I was the first American athlete throughout the entire run, running with a German (how ironic :-) for most of it. In the process I set a new 10k PR which I was pretty excited about and which gave me confidence for the ride (which had been daunting to me ever since I was selected for the team. I have never raced draft legal)

Coming out of T1 I was by myself , which meant WORK to catch up to the leaders. I was quickly joined by a Japanese athlete and together we switched off leading. (is that called drafting? lol) Things were going pretty good. I got updates from the US coaches on the course letting me know I was 80 seconds back, then 65 from the lead pack. I could possibly catch the lead girls, how exciting! The bike course consisted of 6 double loops and plenty of dangerous turns and slick descents due to wet road paint etc. The coaches had sent out a warning regarding one specific turn so I made sure to take it extra easy on it since it was extremely slick. What I did not count on is what happened next.

I was about to make a slight left turn to begin my fourth loop and was just back of my new Japanese friend who seemed to take the turns with speed and skill (maybe it helped that she was half my size as well?) while I was being over cautious, losing precious seconds at each turn I slowed for. At this specific turn I had slowed down, was off my brakes and was cruising through, or so I thought. Then, in an instant, I flew onto the ground, sliding across the pavement. In shock, I wasn't quite sure what had happened or what to do next. I landed on my left side, managed to scrape my elbow in two places, my knee and my ankle, and put a good bruise on my left upper thigh as well. (thought for sure I burnt through the shorts, which probably would have ended my race, but I only scraped off the USAT logo.) Although it all happened so fast, I think I also hit my head on the ground and that was scary.(Later proved correctly by the crack in my helmet.) Guess it's time for a new one now!) I started to whimper in pain at this point, as well as in disappointment and disbelief, so naturally the volunteers started to call the medics over. Then I had a quick chat with myself: either drop out right now and regret not finishing, or keep going and try to catch back up. So after fiddling for about another 2 minutes trying to get my chain back on, I was on my merry way, bleeding and all, on a mission to finish this race.

I never did catch back up to the other women on the bike, although I could see packs, as well as witness another crash on the track, but I made it my goal to try again on the run. Keeping with my plan to treat each discipline as its own race, I shut out all that had happened and turned on my tunnel vision. I was dizzy, I was dripping wet and I was mad. I also got to play the catch up game, one of my favorites! I slowly started reeling in some girls, passed an American and saw at the halfway mark that I was getting near the leading American, who had passed me along with the rest of the race, in the crash. I gave it everything I had, but ran out of real estate and ended up 3 seconds behind her. Then as soon as I crossed the line, the emotions came tumbling out (and are sure to be forever remembered thanks to the cameraman who was taking pictures of me upside down.) All I wanted to do was bury my head for a moment and digest what the last 2 hours of super intense effort had taught me. I saw B and started sobbing. I so badly wanted to give the US a top 10, if not top 15 finish and I believe I was capable of doing so.

Later race results revealed that I was riding the exact same pace as the leaders, including my 4 min pit stop, which shows how much harder those of us worked who were not riding in a pack. I spent my legs trying to make up ground, when I was actually riding faster than the leaders. ITU racing is kind of funny that way. Everyone sits if no one wants to make a move. My second run, although I am not sure of its exact accuracy, equaled a PR as well. It's 4p.m. now and it looks like the sun is about to set. The skies are grey and it is pouring. Age groupers are just starting their day. It is going to be a challenging day for them to say the least. Ofcourse tomorrow's forecast calls for 82 and sunshine. Go figure.

The men's race had a super exciting finish with Jarrod Shoemaker winning by a hair, making him the first duathlete since Kenny Souza in the early 90s to win the World Champs. What makes it more impressive is that he crashed as well! Now it's recovery time, to literally let my body heal. I could tell I messed up my lower back in the fall, so I am hoping that won't be an issue in a few days. The part of my thigh that got alot of impact is swelling pretty impressively, but hopefully all is good. Although I was told I should get x-rays to rule out possible hairline fractures, I think I am OK, just a bit shaken up and a bit bruised and battered. It was a battle field out there for sure. Blood, sweat, and tears all the way :-) But memorable nonetheless. It was pretty neat to have the opportunity to participate in this event. Thank you to all those who got me there!


Final stats: 10k- 36:19
40k- 01:16*
5k- 17:47

2:12.34- second American, 17th overall

... thinking about my revenge next year in Edinburgh already...


Pics to come.