IMAZ Recap- A Day Of Pain And Pride

Over the last few days I've been trying to come to grips with my race this past Sunday. There are so many more questions and emotions running through your head when a race does not go well. It's almost like a grieving period, but luckily I am nearing the end and am ready to put this chapter behind me.

I went into the race full of hope and excitement for one last hurrah of 2012. My training had been going  fine, uninterrupted with plenty of rest and no races between Mont Tremblant in August and IMAZ in November. (That might have been a mistake, as I now realize that racing is what helps me get in race shape, so perhaps a half thrown in would have better prepped me for the full after such a long break) Even though my bike didn't arrive with me on my flight, I wasn't overly worried and it came with the next flight, only slightly delaying my bed time. My parents were in town as well, making IMAZ their first full Ironman. Unfortunately my step dad was dealing with a pretty bad cold, but he stayed positive as usual, and soldiered right through to the finish line on Sunday. I also had my number one race support/ tech support Brandon by my side, taking away any potential headaches with my bike etc. I felt like it was going to be a great day out there. In addition, I knew potential sponsors were watching and I did not want to disappoint.

Having done the race the past 3 years, I knew the course inside out and didn't think I'd get all that nervous. But I still only managed 90min of sleep or so the night before, not ideal. Got to transition with plenty of time to take care of every little thing and got a warm up jog in as well. Putting on my wetsuit, it felt a little tight but I figured it would give once in the water. Before the sun was even up, the pros were ordered to jump 3 ft down into the dark and cold abyss that is Tempe Town lake, treading water for another 10min or so before our gun went off. (men and women got a separate start this year, 5 min apart) I had made sure to get some short efforts in to keep the blood moving and my HR up. The start of the swim was a bit chaotic as I had a woman to the left and right of me sandwiching me in the middle. As usual, it got taken out fast and even though I tried my hardest to keep up and match their speed, I was quickly dropped as I struggled to find my breath and felt my body seizing up from the all out sprint. I resigned to my own pace. Nonetheless I was breathing so hard, I felt like the kayaks 20ft away could hear my every breath. After the turn-around at 1.2mi, I was swimming into a slight current with no one else around and my breathing became so labored that I started producing phlegm and had to clear my throat several times. I could tell I was slowing, putting in so much effort just to get air in.

Age groupers, who started 10min behind us, starting passing me. Lots of them. What was going on? Was I going that bad? I tried to stay on some of their feet, but they just pulled right past me like fish in a school, leaving me behind as I struggled to keep any sense of race pace going. As I finally made it to the swim exit, I looked at my watch and saw 1.09. Could not believe it. Almost 10min slower than I swam 2 years ago. Trying not to dwell on it, I made my way into the changing tent and out on the bike course, hoping to have put the worst behind me.

Focus on the bike course. Love that Wingspan!

With my slow swim and age groupers already well mixed in, I spent most of my ride trying to escape numerous packs and avoiding crashes. The 3x out and back course was packed, more so than any other year I've raced it. I looked for my parents but never saw them, wondered how they were doing. I didn't feel hungry or any sense of appetite, so I had to force most of my nutrition down, and ended up taking in less than I normally do. But I felt good, steady energy the entire ride. A few coughs in the beginning from my irritated lungs (due to the excessively hard breathing) but otherwise no issues. I saw a few of the other pro women, and knew I was well back. But my strength was still ahead. I was looking forward to getting off my bike and on that run course to try and reverse some damage. Bike time was 5:09, slower than my goal but still a PR.

As soon as I started my run out of T2,  I steered directly into the first porta potty I saw, as I have yet to master going on the bike. Feeling much better after that, I tried to get into a good rhythm. A girl who had left T2 right behind me, was now ahead as I stopped to go to the bathroom. I kept my focus on reeling her back in. Then I felt it coming on, a pain like someone was twisting a knife in my side, a very familiar pain. (have dealt with this before, but never during a race) I had managed to irritate/ pop out a rib on my left side/ upper back that was now causing such intense pain that it stopped me in my tracks. I tried to breathe through it but the pain was so intense it took my breath away. The downhills were the worst. I had no choice but to walk. And think. Thoughts started rolling through my head- should I stop and drop out? Can't possibly do 26mi in his pain. Ironman is hard enough as it is. No, can't drop out, could never live with myself. Wait for mom and pace her to her first IM finish? Wasn't sure where she was in the race. I tried picking up my pace and run but whenever I exceeded jog pace and went for more than a few steps, my breathing was cut off like someone was punching me in my stomach. In addition, something wasn't sitting right in my gut and for the first time in a race I also experienced some real GI problems, with plenty more porta john visits.

Right after I found mom! You'd think we were related...

Then the tears started rolling. How could this all have happened? I had been in great shape, trained diligently and made sure to get a good taper. I had done well in my other two IMs this year and given myself enough time to recover and train again after my last one. But Ironman racing is tough and there are just no guarantees. We've all seen the greats suffer and get defeated while in the best shape of their lives. I tried to remind myself that this wasn't the end of the world, but man did it suck to be forced to walk. When I finally saw Brandon after lap one, he needed no explanation, he knew. I briefly contemplated ending my day, but being the good boyfriend that he is, he didn't let me. Instead, he told me my mom was just a few minutes up ahead on her first lap of the run, and I could catch her. This was all the carrot I needed to get going and stop feeling defeated. I needed to be a role model for her, how much pain was she in? This was her first ever IM!

Unsure of what to feel, but crossing another IM finish line

It took me until close to the end of lap 2 to catch her and once I did, I felt a huge amount of relief of having found a piece of my family out on the course and quickly filled her in on my day. She seemed to be going great and I asked if she wanted to run with me for a bit. We ended up jogging (all my rib would allow me to do) and walking the aid stations together. Every once in awhile I'd get ahead or she'd get ahead, depending on who was feeling better. Eventually I pulled ahead, with the intense pain having subsided and turned into a dull ache all over my upper back/ rib area. At least I could jog continuously, although with rather labored breathing. I felt numb and emotionless, having let go of my goals for the day, simply surviving the day. At long last I made it to the finish line, where Brandon was there to greet me. Not the finish I had dreamed of, but a finish nonetheless. Considering my pace on the run and my slowest ever marathon, I had minimal soreness and felt remarkably good. Finished just under 10:30.

Here comes Ironmom!

Less than 2 hrs later my mom crossed the line, just 10min off from a Kona spot and securing third place in her AG. She sure made the family name proud. And Mark finished in a respectable sub 14 hrs with a serious cold that easily added on an hour overall. Next time guys, next time! I am so very proud and still can't believe they are both Ironmen! After watching so many of my races they finally got to feel what it's like to be in the race, and I'd like to suspect that they are hooked.

It was a different kind of experience to be in the very back of the pro race, humbling to be getting lapped and not being able to do anything about it. But it's these humbling experiences that teach us more about racing than a great performance. Like Linsey told me post race- it's an experience in the bank to draw on next time around. There were some incredible performances out there, both Linsey and Meredith having super races, always inspiring.

I had a good year, may not have ended it great, but its all part of racing.   Here's to 2013 and new limits achieved. Never give up and never stop believing in yourself! (sounds cheesy but it's what will get you through a less than perfect day!) Maybe I picked up something viral the days before the race, who knows. I will be getting my breathing issue checked by a specialist and hopefully get to the bottom of why my swims are slowing and my efforts keep increasing. No one should have to pop a rib out from trying to breathe so hard while swimming :)


To my supporters and sponsors this season, Powerbar, RockTape, TriggerPoint, and Rudy Project (thank you Chris for getting that new slick TT helmet out to me just in time!), thank you for your support and belief in me. I will be back, and stronger than before! Thanks to friends and family who play such a big role in this sport, providing reassurance on tough days and good ones alike. Thanks for reading and see you all next season.

Inaugural IM Mont-Tremblant Recap

Ironman Mont Tremblant might just rank up there as my favorite Ironman that I have done. It was my 10th IM start and a memorable race. I can't wait to be back! Like any Ironman, the day was unpredictable, but in the end I came out with my best finish to date, even with some major race day obstacles thrown my way. 

First Pro Panel

Brandon and I arrived at our home stays John and Cindy Thursday night and were immediately welcomed with an amazing pasta dinner. Friday was jam packed with pro panel, meetings, packet pickups and checking out the town and race course. Everyone seemed so happy and enthusiastic, even the rain couldn't wipe out the good mood. The town of Mont Tremblant put in a tremendous effort to make this first year event as smooth as possible, repaving most of the bike course so we could ride on silky smooth pavement, opening the lake up for pre race swimming, and pretty much welcoming 2000 or so triathletes with open arms. Something I have never seen before at other races.

Swim Start

Although only a small pro field assembled for this race, it was still a competitive one. On race morning Brandon and I walked down the hill from our home stay straight to transition and then another half mile down to the swim start. We arrived early enough to find a quiet spot along the beach and even found some free lawn chairs to relax on. I felt nervous, but I couldn't wait to get started. The water looked calm and clean, the air temperature was comfortable and the forecast called for light winds and moderate temps. It could not have been more perfect.

 SWIM 2.4mi- I made my way down the beach to the swim start and got in a brief warm-up before everyone was called out of the water 15min before the pro start. I lined myself up in what I thought was a pretty good spot (the swim start was a run in start on a wide beach with only about 16 pros total) but as soon as the canon went off,  I ended up by myself. No problem, I knew most of the girls racing would swim around the same speed as me, so I hoped we would all work together. By the first buoy a few of us found our line and there was even some contact here and there. It also didn't help that my goggles fogged up to the point that I couldn't see, having to stop twice to clear them. By the halfway point, I was swimming alone and even got passed by a few of the fastest age groupers who started after us. There was even some slight chop, enough to make me a little dizzy. Finally, I reached the shore, in third place for the women, after what felt like an eternity, and made my way to T1 on the red carpet that was laid out for us for literally at least 1/2mi. 

Swim Time: 1:04

BIKE 112mi- After the longest T1 ever, I got on my bike, opting for my Rudy Project Wingspan and Sportmask glasses and set off for my 112mi journey on two wheels. I really looked forward to this bike course. It had everything: flats and fast descents, rolling hills and climbs that would max out my gears. And everything was on buttersmooth road surfaces. After settling in on my bike and leaving town for the first of two loops, I couldn't shake the slight dizziness. I made sure to drink plenty of electrolytes and get some calories in, but the lightheadedness persisted, accompanied by a headache at times.

On the bike. Thanks for the pic John!

I had started the bike in 3rd place and moved up to second about halfway through the first loop. It felt like we had the road to ourselves (which we pretty much did- an entire side of the highway was closed for the race) and the official motorcycle holding up the board with splits between racers was around me the entire ride. It really made a difference to have that as a guide as to where my competition was. Race leader Rachel Kiers was riding super strong, increasing her lead a little each time I got to see the board. By the time I reached the town of Mont Tremblant again and started the out and back climbs on the toughest part of the course, I  started to feel my energy fade. I knew it was way too early in the race to be feeing this way, so I decided to resort to my emergency boost of Coke, but even drinking a few ounces of that didn't shake my sick feeling.

Although still riding in second place, I was losing more time to Rachel and now third place, Jessie Donavan was getting closer. She ended up passing me in the same fashion she did at St George, going by at a very controlled and powerful pace. I was in damage control and let her go, knowing she would ride the second loop of the course faster than any of the other girls. The crowds on the bike course were spectacular. I have raced many IMs, including IM Frankfurt, and I have to say that the crowds at this venue were more amazing. There was so much genuine excitement and even cars driving by would honk, not out of dislike or annoyance, but because they were so into the race!

Anyways, I found myself back in third after getting passed by Jessie and had to now make a conscious effort not to lose more time. I started eating more (Powerbar gels and iron girl and natural energy bars, bananas, as well as gel blasts) and taking in as much fluids as I could to replace whatever deficit I had already accumulated this early on in the race. I needed a strong marathon and needed enough fuel in me to do that. Finally, as I reached the out and back climb for the second time, I started to feel strong again. I felt relieved to have come out of my bonk phase, headache receding and power returning to my legs. However, I was now cramping in my feet, despite my best efforts of topping off my electrolytes. It took a while each time a cramp appeared, to make it go away. Highly annoying when in bike shoes, and nearly impossible to stretch out. Cramps in my feet on the bike was a first for me, and I am not sure why they happened, especially since the day was rather cool. Still, I was in a position to put down a decent bike split, and still holding steady in third place. Transition was oh so near.

Bike Time: 5:14*

A little confused after getting up...

Run 26.2mi- * I rolled into transition, getting my feet out of my shoes, when all of a sudden my front wheel stopped. And when a front wheel stops while you are riding your bike, it is usually not a good outcome. It all happened so fast, I am still trying to wrap my head around it, but as my wheel stopped turning, I catapulted over my bars head first, and found myself on the ground a split second later. Clearly I was in absolute shock, disbelief and thought my day was over. Hundreds of spectators lining the area watched as I flew off my bike. I felt my elbow hurt and my headache was back because I hit my head as I went down. I could make out some volunteers rushing over and checking on me, not allowed to really help as that would disqualify me per race rules. Mike Reilly happened to stand right at the dismount line area (which I had yet to reach) and he came over and asked if I could get up and go on. That turned a switch in my head and I went from feeling utterly sorry for myself and whimpering in pain, to getting myself up and moving. My body seemed fine, although I could feel a burn on my back. I started shuffling through the transition, totally disoriented  and in shock as to what just happened and figured I'd just get to the changing tent and re-evaluate my status where it was quiet. I've been told I probably spent around 2 min on the ground after my fall, which still practically was on the bike course, so all things considered, my bike split would have probably been 2min faster without the spill.

When I ran out of T2 the crowds went wild. I couldn't tell if they saw what had happened, if someone told them, but all of a sudden I got a huge adrenaline rush and I just started running. I also needed to find my family and tell them what had happened, as they were not at the dismount line and had no idea I went down. I yelled to them that I had crashed my bike, but they looked puzzled as I didn't looked scraped up at all and I was clearly well enough to run.

Downtown race/expo area

I ran the first 4 mi through town completely numb. I wanted to know why I went down, what caused my fall, I needed a hug from my family telling me I'd be alright. But instead, I had to push this accident aside, focus on the task at hand and not let it consume me. I was still in contention, only a few min down from first and second. My legs felt like they were moving on their own without much effort, and the crowds cheering me along helped lift my spirits tremendously. With numerous turnarounds and out and backs, I was able to catch glimpses of my competition throughout the entire run. My lead bike girl made sure to rev up the crowds whenever we came by; it helped so so much to have so much support.

About 200m to go. So much pain and joy at once. photo: John Sheppard

I absolutely loved the run course, even with a few nasty little rollers thrown in. The long straight and flat out and back section on crushed gravel was like a dream for Ironman run legs. I could literally feel less impact and pick up my speed there every time. By lap two, things got a little busier but I fed off other runners cheering me on and knew although I was hurting big time now, these folks still had another lap to do, and if they were smiling and having fun out there, I better at least try to smile back. I passed Rachel, who was in second now, with Jessie charging with a sizable lead, shortly after completing the first 13.1mi. We exchanged a quick "good job" and switched lead bikers and pressed on. I felt the cramps in my feet returning (the kind of cramp you really can't run through) but I somehow managed to tell my brain to ignore it and downed as much electrolyte drink at each aid station as I could to keep them at bay. Everything was marked in kilometers, so while racing I was also able to do some math and perhaps take my mind off the pain. At 34k I had 8k to go. 8k is about 5mi. 'OK Uli, how many 5 mile runs have you done? Piece of cake. Then, 4mi to go- that's a 30min jog at 8min mile pace. You got this! Then at last, 5k to go. 5k- 12 laps around the track, 3.1mi, almost home!!' This is how I got myself through the last 40min or so, which are usually the toughest in any marathon.

Finis!

The crowds were so spectacular, I felt like everyone was on my side, cheering me in to the finish, where I could finally let down my guard, laugh, cry, digest my crash and see my family. The run down the home stretch is something I'll never forget. There were soooo many people, and everyone cheering so loud that I could not hear my foot steps or my own breath. I was filled with joy, gratefulness and relief when I crossed the finish line at long last and hearing Mike call me across the line. Second place- I made it. Best IM finish place yet. Like the saying goes, Ironman is 10% physical, and 90% mental. Could not agree more on this day.

Run Time: 3:17
Overall: 9:42

Women top 6 Pros at Awards

I cannot say enough good things about this race. From the volunteers to the fans to race organization and overall experience, this is a must do if you want a truly great IM experience. I don't know if I would have run the marathon I did without the hundreds of people lining the streets cheering and telling me how "strong, smooth and fast" I looked. My pain from the crash didn't bother me at all during the race, partly because of adrenaline and shock, but mostly because the crowds didn't let me give up at any point. A huge thank you to our home stay, who treated us like family- you really do have a lucky house! They hosted another racer, and both him and I placed second.

Proud home stays Cindy and John and 2nd place female and male Pros

I've been taking it easy since the race,  and have discovered some additional bruising and road rash that didn't make itself known until the excitement wore off. I've also been dealing with some moderate whiplash, so certain movements we take for granted are now super painful. But all this will fade, and I am thankful to not have fared worse. I broke no bones, only snapped my helmet (thank goodness for Rudy Project head protection!) and the fork on my bike.

Big thanks to everyone for their messages of support, IM and the town of Mont Tremblant and race organizers and volunteers, to my family for once again making the trip after their own race at AG Nationals in Vermont the day before, our awesome home stay, and my sponsors and supporters Rudy Project, Powerbar, RockTape, and TriggerPoint. I'll take some downtime and then rev things up one last time for the remainder of the season.

View from the Gondola that goes straight up over downtown, with a view of the mid night finish line to the left.

Thanks for reading and see you out there!

Ironman 70.3 Boulder Recap

Boulder Res race morning

This year marked the 6th time of me racing this event in my own backyard since starting triathlon in 2006 (minus one year due to illness) and the 3rd time as a pro. Going into the race, I knew I had my work cut out for me if I wanted to be in the money (top 6 got paid) as this was the most competitive pro field ever for this race. World champions, Ironman Champions- you name it. With just two weeks out from one of my 'A' races this season, I simply just wanted to put in a good effort and see where my fitness was at. Racing at altitude is always different from racing at sea level, especially on the swim and run.

Having trained the entire summer in temperatures at 90 or above, race day was rather cool, at least to start with. With a wetsuit- legal swim, I found myself in a pack right from the beginning, which was a welcome change to my usual solo swims. However, our little pack was highly disorganized and hands were constantly grabbing and slapping. I tried to stay to the outside of the pack, but had a hard time shaking anyone off. It was probably the most aggressive pro swim I've ever experienced, and I felt like I was 'boxed in' (like on the track) a few times and ended up swimming an easier pace than I usually do. I made it out of the water slightly faster than last year and was right with 5 other women into T1. (But sadly last out of transition in 15th place or so.)

The bike leg at Boulder 70.3 was something I looked forward to because it would be the most non technical bike I have raced all season. With long straights, minimal turns, generally good road surfaces and no rain, it's cut out to be a fast course. In the back of my mind, I had the goal of breaking 2:20 over the 56mi distance (my PR being 2:22 on this course) but with a lot of the road having been chip sealed in the past year, I wasn't sure if that would affect race times. Regardless, I put on a surge right out of T1, and distanced myself from the other women I had come out of the water with. By the time I reached the 5mi marker and the first downhill on the course, I was alone, with only the aid stations and occasional spectators cheering. At the end of the first of 2 laps, I had made a few more passes and moved myself into a decent spot for the run. Lap 2 got busy with age group athletes on their first lap and pros passing, while cars were going by. I had to slow my pace a few times to avoid hitting a car from behind as they too slowed down for bike traffic weaving out of the bike lane. When I finally took a look at my bike computer, I saw that I was within reach of my goal time, so once on the Diagonal Hwy, I put my head down and went for broke into T2 with just a few miles to go. I ended up riding an almost 4-min PR, starting the run in 7th place.

Top 6 minus Leanda in third.

Even though the morning had been cool, things were heating up just in time for the run, as the sun moved into its prime location, giving little to no shade on the 2 loop course. I got some updates from Brandon every few miles of how far ahead other women were, and that I was well within reach to catch them. At the run turn-around of the out and back by Monarch Rd., I saw both Whitney and Mandy up ahead, but with 9 more miles to go, I didn't want to think about making a pass just yet, as I wasn't feeling great at all. I wondered if I had biked too hard for my own good, as I started to feel the fatigue in my legs and lungs. Thankfully, taking it gingerly on the first loop allowed me to hydrate and get fluids in and on me, which helped me feel better on loop 2. By mi 9 I had run myself up to 6th place and had 5th within sight. Brandon told me to go for it and I made my move on the downhill by Coot Lake, right after some inspiration from the Boulder Coaching aid station. I whispered ' good job' to Whitney and  pressed on, unsure of whether she would respond and stay with me. The last two miles seemed to take forever, I was hot and running on fumes. Finally I reached the last downhill into the finish, where Brandon proceeded to tell me to 'hurry up', and in my deranged state of mind, I tried to pick it up one last time- no one was going to beat me in the last 200m! Turns out I had plenty of time, so not sure why B told me to sprint, but it was good practice, should it ever come down to a sprint finish :)

Whitney and I obviously in deep conversation :)

I was happy with how my day turned out, having achieved my goal on the bike, riding my fastest ever bike split, and posting a top 5 finish. The ladies I shared the podium with are no joke, so it felt really good to be in such fast company! Many thanks to all who were out cheering, volunteering and generally just making this race as cool as it is. Nothing like racing at home! Thank you also to Powerbar, Rocktape, TriggerPoint, and Rudy Project!

And finally, I can't believe it's here, race week for Ironman Mont Tremblant. I cannot wait to race there later this week, after having made it a prime focus for most of this season. Laissez les bons temps rouler a Quebec!

Lake Stevens 70.3 Race to the Line Report

After REV3 Portland, I spent the week recovering and soaking in as much oxygen as I could in beautiful Washington State, where I stayed at my family's house. My recovery went well, I felt strong again right away and was able to even throw in a few sharpening runs and rides. With the race just 2 hours away from where I was staying, it was an easy drive the day prior. I had made it a priority to stay hydrated this time around, even if race day was forecast not to be as hot as the week before. I ate well and made sure my engine was ready to go. Once race day grew closer, the forecast for potential rain increased as well. Like REV3's bike course, this one was a toughie too. Lots and lots of hills to go up and down, spiced up with some sharp turns and blind corners.  After driving the course, I noticed that there were far less signs warning riders than there had been the week before in Portland. I tried to take a mental picture of every hairy turn...

Sure enough, we were greeted in transition with mist on race morning. Now, normally this would have been unsettling news, as I do not like riding my bike in the rain, especially not on tricky courses. However, this year's weather has been anything but typical at each and every race I have done, so why would this have been any different? Sure, last year was nice and the year before was hot, so why not throw in some cooler temps and rain this time around?! I had conquered a challenging bike course the week prior, so I had some recent memory to draw on for this one. I set up my lil transition area and put my gear inside a plastic bag *just in case* things decided to get nasty. After my confidence took a slight blow last weekend, I wasn't sure where I'd end up on this day. I knew the competition was there, especially with Rinny in the mix, and several other speedy runners. If I wanted to do well here, I knew I had to get it done without much of a hitch.

When the start gun went off I managed to stay on bubbles/ feet for about 10 seconds before my body seized up and I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. (yes I warmed up running and swimming, but apparently not enough?!) I went into survival mode and also discovered I could just follow the line at the bottom of the lake for direction of the buoys. Handy, since other swimmers were long gone, but unfortunate too because I apparently missed the pro meeting detail that swimming directly along the line would lead you directly into a buoy. This happened. More than once. After some additional sighting, I finally found a steady line, but was passed by three speedy age groupers on my way back to shore, not boosting my morale much. My thoughts began to wander and my mind went negative as to why yet again, I was out there swimming alone, giving up so much time to others, who I have managed to stay with in the past. With my labored breathing, I was surprised the kayakers didn't want to pull me out.

Finally I reached the beach, with just one more swimmer directly behind me, ran a very gravely path to my bike and knew then that the day would come down to a chase again. Just depended how badly I wanted it. Officially last out of T1, I finally made it on the bike course, and although my seat felt off, I managed to get off to a strong start and clip off a few riders along the way. The forest again grew deep and dark and I found myself wishing my bike had headlights so I could see better. Then the rain began. At first I thought I'd be able to pull off leaving my sunglasses on, even if just for eye protection. After about 5 min, they were stowed in my top, with my eyeballs now exposed to every rain drop. While most descents were OK to make out, there were a few sketchy ones that had me crossing my fingers and tapping my brakes like crazy, telling myself it would be OK! Which oddly made me think of this:

Safety was my number one concern, but not losing valuable time to others was my second. Each time I bombed down a blinding descent, I blinked really fast as to dry my eyes real quick before the next rain drop entered. This technique proved a little useless as it let me see even less. So half blind, I held my breath and pleaded with my bike to let me arrive safely in T2.

First time riding without eye protection.

I finally did, having no idea what place I was in, but knowing I did make quite a few passes out on that freezing, gloomy and wet bike loop. After trying my best to be quick and swift, knowing every second counts, I made my way back out into the cheering crowds, who immediately lifted my spirits up, even if I looked like a pig that had just taken a mud bath. That's when I heard Dave, the announcer, say something about what place I was in, but I could not quite make it out. I did however hear him say that I was a "good runner, and would I be able to run myself into another spot on this run?!" Was I in contention? Sometimes, after a tough race, this is exactly what you need to hear to get going again, and with that I (attempted) to throw the hammer down. Maybe a little too hard because as I reached the one mile marker, my mind was in a different place than race management, and I followed some random orange cones down a side street, completely off course, ahhhhh. This cost me some valuable seconds, as I would later learn.

The run course consisted of two loops with a long hill in the second half of each loop that had to be run up and down 2x. Otherwise, there were some shorter hills and some nice long downhill stretches and flats. I liked this course. The rain had now ceased (naturally) and the weather was perfect for running. I came up on Christine on my first loop and made the pass, not knowing if this would haunt me later. Upon coming up on Dave the announcer, again, in town, he said I was now in 4th. My spirits were lifted yet again and although the pain was setting in for having probably run the first loop too fast, my mind wanted this and I wasn't giving up chasing. I also had the threat of those fast speedy ladies behind me throwing in a surprise so I knew I wasn't off the hook at all. It wasn't until 2mi to go that I could see the back of Mackenzie, and like a slow motion dream, she wasn't getting any closer, it seemed. I tried to make up time on the downhills, but she seemed to have the same idea. People coming the other way told me I could catch her; if only it was that easy! Every inch of my body was in pain and seizing up. I was starting to fight that old foot cramp yet again, but tricked my mind into ignoring it, which ultimately helped me not to stop for it. With a quarter mile to go, I finally lost sight of her in all the foot traffic going on around us, and she would see the finish line 21sec before me. Here is a good photo of what I looked like seconds after crossing the line. 

OMG, that hurt like a track 10k...

Was I a tad disappointed I couldn't catch 3rd place? Sure I was. What if I hadn't taken that wrong turn? But I also knew that I gave it everything and for the first time in a long time, I actually had a race going! Knowing I went from last out of T1 to 4th with some great competition was a nice redemption from the week before, reaffirming my abilities and giving me a boost as I head into my last training block before IM Mont Tremblant in August. Thanks to all you fellow racers, volunteers, spectators, IM, and my sponsors (Powerbar, Rudy Project, TriggerPoint, RockTape) for making this one a memorable one. I might just be back for more next year!

REV3 Portland Recap

Sometimes races don't pan out the way you imagined, and for me, REV3 Portland was one of those races. I had certain goals in mind, which were definitely attainable, and the field was looking stacked, with many women around the same level of performance as myself. It would come down to who would have the better day. At the pro meeting we were told about the very technical bike course and to use extra caution on the bridges and turns. Being a cautious rider, I really appreciated the warnings and upon driving the course, found extra signage at the tricky corners, making navigation a bit less intense. I  was looking forward to the climbs, but not so much the descents of the ride. The run seemed mostly flat and the swim seemed the same for once, ha. (for those following my races this season, you might understand what is meant by flat swim)

Either way, I was really nervous the night before the race and barely slept at all. Race morning greeted us with sunshine and calm winds and a predicted high temp in the high 80s. I wasn't worried about the temps, since it's been scorching up to triple digits all summer in Boulder. It was a non- wetsuit swim for pros and a run in start. Now, I haven't been practicing my run in starts much (or ever) so naturally I was a bit timid. Mistake number one. I immediately lost most everyone around me and swam the entire course (which was a tad long as well) alone. How this is possible every time, is truly somewhat perplexing to me. There were plenty of women my speed, yet I managed to lead a small pack of three spread out behind me, around the entire course, feeling a little helpless in my swim abilities along the way.

I exited the water and ran -what seemed like a mile long transition on grass- to my bike, got bike stuff on and was out of there. The bike course is said to be the most challenging in the REV3 series, and right off the bat, there were some nice rollers to battle. I found my cycling legs shortly after the first climb and started picking up some other riders who were ahead of me. On courses like these, I think training at altitude and in the mountains really helps. Although I felt every climb, I recovered fast and was ready to tackle the next one. The well marked sketchy descents were actually no problem at all, having me laugh at myself for literally losing sleep over it the night before. Before I knew it , I had traversed the forest and the hills and was back on the flats on the way to transition, with the last 15mi or so flat. Here I got a good look at where my competition was and also made a costly error that would haunt me later. With the heat of the day about to start, and my bottles nearing empty, I reached over at the last available aid station and tried to grab some liquids but was unable to get anything. In hindsight I should have stopped and asked volunteers to rehand me something, but I kept going, because I was racing and the adrenaline was flowing.  With 10 or more miles to go and no more available fluid, I could feel my body ache for something to drink. After some positive self talk, I convinced myself that I would be fine and could drink lots on the run. I entered T2 in 8th or 9th place, well in the money and ready to run down some more people. Or so I thought.

The run started out over somewhat rolling terrain on a path in the shade. Although I felt thirsty, I felt strong. I knew fast runners were behind me, so I kept an eye on my pace, sure not to let anyone I could see in front of me, get away. Aid stations were every 1.5mi or so, and I took all I could at each one, without having to slow down too much or give up too much time. After the brief out and back in the shade, we now shared a shoulder on the highway with return run traffic, making things a little tight. This is also where the heat started to really pick up, as there was zero shade and temps seemed much higher than they were, with the humidity. After an ironic pee detour at the port potties, I had given up a spot, but was confident I could run back up to my previous place in the race. But then the wheels started to come off. Goose bumps, cramps in my feet, nausea. I was reduced to a walk, passed again, and my confidence in my race was dwindling. Although I was taking salt, the dehydration was too great and the few sips of water and coke weren't going to do the trick. After what seemed like a death march on the Queen K, I staggered into the finish, unable to hold off 10th place just a few seconds from the end, and ended up in 11th. I then gulped down 2 water bottles right away, something I have never seen myself do at the end of a race. Yea, Engine overheated. Should have stopped and returned to get the fluids at the last bike aid station.

Need more fluids...

I was a little disappointed, mostly because I can usually rely on my run, but on this day, my body wasn't cooperating. And looking back, I was most likely dehydrated before the race even started. I vowed not to let that happen again next time around, which would only be one short week later. As usual, REV3 did a great job putting together the race, racer banner and all (my favorite thing, ha) Thanks to Rudy Project for my extra bit of aero on the head, and for letting me see clear even in the deep, dark woods of Oregon, Powerbar  for once again fueling my ride and run in the form of Powerbar Gels and bars, TriggerPoint and RockTape as well.

Boise Race Report

Ok, I think I am by now far enough removed from the race that I won't get flashbacks if I write about it.   Boise proved to be another tough race mentally. Every triathlon I have raced this year, has had extreme conditions it seems. First, heat and wind like no other, and then the coldest, wettest tri I have ever done. I guess I pretty much covered all conditions you could run into :) (except maybe snow, but it was reportedly seen on the bike course in Boise.)

For the 4th time, I made the trip to Boise with my parents for our annual "family triathlon adventure". Year one was wet and presented thunder storms on the bike, year two was windy and hot, and last year was pretty much perfect. The forecast called for cooler temps so I was delighted to be able to run in that. As race day drew closer, the forecast kept changing to more and more moisture. Finally, it said there was a 70% chance of rain and highs would peak into the low 60s, but start out in the 40s. The race doesn't start until noon, which was a good thing, otherwise no one might have started at all since it was FRIGID.

We took the shuttle up to the swim start, where it began pouring buckets as soon as we exited the school buses. We stripped down (me about 5 layers) to get body marked and made our way into transition, where my bike was covered by the plastic bags I had draped over it, only they were sagging with rain puddles now. We had 2 hours to pass until race start and the temperature combined with the rain that was now coming at us horizontally, made it quite challenging to stay warm, especially since there was no shelter from it. (except porta potties, which yes, people did hide in) I credit myself for making the smartest packing decision in bringing my rain coat. It sure came in handy and kept my upper body mostly dry. I felt so bad for all those unprepared folks who were shivering in 1 or 2 cotton layers and flip flops.

About a half hour before the pro start, IM announced that the bike was shortened to 15mi due to the weather and the risk for hypothermia. Basically, we would ride a straight line back into town to T2. Surprisingly, they let the swim go on. The water temperature was a mere 57 deg and the air temp was 40. It was raining cats and dogs and it was windy. I couldn't feel my toes and I hadn't even gotten in the water yet. I was slightly worried.

So freakin cold.

Finally, after a 10min delay and me shivering while trying to stay warm in my wetsuit in the water, we were off. I immediately hyperventilated despite a moderate warmup and getting myself used to the cold temps. My body just felt stiff and frozen. From the start, I could not feel my feet. I tried to tell myself they would come around if I just kicked a lot :) I usually enjoy the crisp and calm swim at Lucky Peak Reservoir, but this year it was spitting rain and the wind had gathered some nice chop, which left me with some mouths full of water and a little dizzy.  To make things even more painful, a swimmer next to me managed to hit me right in my funny bone, I wanted to scream. The cold water quickly numbed my tingling hand so I forgot about it by the time I exited the swim.

The run up the ramp was  interesting. I thought I had left my feet in the water. I actually looked down to check, haha. They were there, but I couldn't feel them. I also wouldn't feel any of the little pebbles I was worried about stepping on while running to my bike. Once there I was prepared to take a little longer and make sure I put some clothes on. I only managed my Rudy Vest and Arm Coolers/ Warmers as my limbs were too frozen to function properly. My shoes had neoprene toe covers, but 5 min into the ride and some puddles later, they were soaked through and through, and my feet were blocks of ice. (Unfortunately I missed the memo on riding in your wetsuit, gotta give it to the guys, smart move! Although I wonder if it would have kept my toes any warmer?)

I made it to T2 before I could even take on any nutrition, feet still numb. I think I actually yelled at a volunteer that I couldn't feel my feet :) With the swim being regular length, and the bike so short, I was at a disadvantage right from the start. The bike is where I usually make up some time, but on this day, it was a short time trial between a swim and a run. I managed to get socks on and my shoes and even grabbed my salt (why I don't know, brain was frozen I think) and stumbled off. My thoughts were "the faster you run, the faster you'll warm up." I left my vest on, as well as my arm coolers, and actually never got hot enough to take them off, even though the sun came out and the temps warmed up into the low 60s at the finish.

The run is broken up into two loops with some out and backs.  Coming off the bike I wasn't sure what place I was in, but once I started the run, I was able to see some of the other women at the various out and backs. I definitely had my work cut out for me. Giving up nearly 5 min on the swim to the leaders was hurting me big time now, even if I had a run as strong as them. An interesting phenomenom occurred early in the run when I stopped and actually took my shoe off because I thought I had something stuck in the front. Turns out it was just my frozen toes that made it feel like I had a gel jammed in there. How weird! On my second loop, I saw a bunch of age groupers do the same thing, I almost laughed.

Finish to a crazy day.

With my legs frozen from the thigh down and chilled to the core, I managed to run my fastest half marathon in Boise, so I can't argue with that. After last season's knee woes saw me do no speed work and even just minimal tempo now, I am happy with how I ran. I chased down a few women and ended up in 9th for the day. Recovery is a different story. I talked to a few people and heard a couple of stories from other pros who have taken a long time to recover, so I am glad I am not the only one. I was sore for almost a week and then sore again every time I ran or rode. That cold must have done some serious damage :)

As a side note- my mom won her age group and got her Vegas slot at Boise. Perhaps I need to pick up the slack and get myself there to join her?!

Now it's on to the second half of the season. With summer being just two days old, it's already been close to 100 deg (40 deg C) here a few times and we are not stopping for the next week or so. Training has resumed and early morning sessions are key to me in his heat. Losing too many electrolytes makes recovery take longer and who needs that when you are training for an IM?! Next up is REV3 Portland, followed by Lake Stevens 70.3 (another family adventure).

Thanks to my supporters- Rudy Project, RockTape, Powerbar and Trigger Point.

Stay tuned.

2012 Ironman St. George Recap- 3rd Place

For anyone who read my last race report on Leadman, I wrote that it was of epic proportions and definitely got me ready for IMSG. What I didn't expect was that IMSG would take "epic" to a whole other level, and that Leadman was simply a warm-up for what was to come. Here is my race report of the final version of (in my opinion) the hardest Ironman ever.

Lets face it, an Ironman is never easy. Add a pretty difficult course such as this one, and you got a real test to see what you are made of. On Saturday, 1700 of us unexpecting athletes were tossed into a situation that came without warning, and tested each athlete to the core of their physical and mental abilities. It became a survival event, with a 29% DNF rate of those who started (which were actually only around 1400 athletes) and the slowest finish times recorded (for pros especially) ever in an Ironman.

The forecast all week looked amazing for a great day, temps much cooler than last year (low 80s) and low winds. I was not worried. It seemed each day it slightly improved, and although Sand Hollow Res had some chop the day before the race when I went for a practice swim, I knew that conditions would be near perfect for race day, and I would hopefully finally have that swim I had been focusing much of my winter training on. The goal was to stay on feet, be aggressive and responsive and put myself in a good spot for the bike leg.

Race morning came fast, and like last year, my family made the last minute trip to come watch Brandon and I. My mom promptly knocked on my door at 3.45 a.m., after flying through the night and driving up to St. George from Vegas. A quick hello, and a quick breakfast at the hotel (which graciously put up a breakfast for us athletes starting at 3.30 a.m.!) and we were off to drop off special needs bags and get on the bus to take us over to the start. As we made our final turn down the frontage road into Sand Hollow, I noticed some slight breezes in the trees as we drove by. I mentioned this to Brandon, but didn't even think twice about it; the forecast after all called for max wind speeds of 9 mph. We did our last minute checks of bike and gear, and before long I was called into the water for the pro start. Although the water wasn't as smooth as last year and had an ever so slight chop, I figured I wouldn't even be able to tell once we got going.

THE SWIM: Just as I adjusted my goggles one last time, the gun went off. (We got a 2 min warning, and after that, you just have to be ready.) Oops. I let the goggles just kind of snap back on my face instead of pushing them to suction, and within seconds my left goggle was filling up with water. Oh great, less than a minute into the race and I was having trouble already. The good news was that I had people all around me. Some of the pro men were right there and provided rather nice drafts. I tried not to let the leaking goggle bother me, but had to adjust it at least 5x in the first few hundred meters. Slightly annoying. Just as I finally settled into a good rhythm, we reached the first turn buoy. I was still in a nice pack and my spirits were good, despite the goggle snafu. Then, everything changed.

From the IMSG FB page- it was worse than this pic shows.

 I could tell that the current had drastically changed as soon as we made the turn. I was now struggling to swim in a straight line and other swimmers next to me were drifting out to the sides. Hm, interesting. I figured it was just a little change in that part of the reservoir and that it would pass. The struggle to swim in a straight line while keeping on feet kept increasing. As we rounded the next buoy, my race suddenly became something like a video game. The water was now officially rough and it was producing mighty chop and waves, and we were swimming head on into it for over a mile, before turning one last time to head back to shore. Everyone around me spread out and my thoughts for a good swim turned sour. I kept thinking that this had to be a joke, and I wondered if the age group swim even went off. I kept thinking of Brandon, doing his first Ironman, and being faced with this. Thank goodness he did Leadman too, and survived that, which hopefully would carry him through this.

From IMSG FB page- notice the sideways buoy and the dust in the background

 The further out we got into the lake, the worse the game got. I was no longer swimming freestyle. I couldn't see another person anywhere near me and the safety kayaks were gone as well. I figured that if the age group start had gone on, they were probably helping pull people out of the water at this point. There was just no way most people would make it through this. Then suddenly I saw bubbles in front of me. I reconnected with two guys who had gotten away but were now back in front of me. I wanted to stop and ask them if they too wondered what the hell was going on, but they kept a surprisingly steady stroke, battling waves that were now literally tossing us up and down. I swallowed water and gagged on it, thinking my breakfast would definitely come out (luckily it stayed in, I got some good burps though).  As I reached the rock island, I found myself completely alone again and couldn't even make out a buoy. I treaded water for a few seconds every couple of strokes to get my bearings, and wasn't quite sure what to do. I felt like I was completely alone in an angry ocean, with waves crashing into me, spraying over my head, erratically. Finally, another female pro swam up and we quickly discussed the absurdity of all this before making one last turn towards shore. I could make out the swim exit in the distance, through dust and spray. I had been in complete survival mode for the last 1800m, swimming breast stroke for most, just so I could see where I was headed, and realizing I was going just as fast doing that, as I would have been trying to swim freestyle, which resulted in catching air more than water.

The last few hundred meters to shore were probably my fastest as the force of the wind and waves (now at my back for the first time) literally pushed me so hard that I could barely get a complete stroke in. I finally made it to the swim exit, dizzy and in utter disbelief of what transpired out there, pretty sure I was last out of the water. The crowd cheered, Dave Erickson followed me with the camera as I ran my way into the changing tent, and I realized that maybe I wasn't last? I asked my volunteers in the tent if the AG swim had indeed gone off, and couldn't believe it when they said "yes". I had a hard time focusing on my race as I kept thinking of the hundreds of age groupers that were first timers, and hoped that enough safety personnel was out there helping.

Leaving T1 dizzy and confused.

THE BIKE: As soon as I left transition, I veered off course. I was still dizzy and disoriented and the wind was blowing me sideways. After catching my bearings, I decided to not ride aero until I felt better, battling some severe cross winds as I rode up the frontage road out of the reservoir. I got pelted by sand and dirt that was swirled up in a mini twister across the roadway. At that point I felt pretty good about my decision to wear an aero helmet this year, as my ears were at least somewhat protected. Once I reached the end of the frontage road, I made a turn to head up the highway, and was now slammed with a headwind. I secretly still held on to the hope that this would go away, that the canyon where we rode most of the 112 mi, would be sheltered and not windy. I thought that no way in hell would I be able to last 112mi in a head and cross wind. I thought about seeing my family and stopping to tell them how awful this was. I thought about Brandon surely passing me very soon as I felt like I was moving at the speed of molasses.

20mi into the bike leg, and the wind had not let up. I remembered something I had heard about the wind directions in this area. A north/ northwest wind was the worst case scenario for the bike, as it presented a headwind for most of the bike, with a tailwind on the downhill section for 15mi on each of the two loops. That meant a headwind for roughly 80mi. I tried not to think about it and kept up hope that this would all die down. Weird thing was, I couldn't make out the mountains in the distance. They were covered by brown dust. Probably not a good sign. As I struggled on, I still had no idea what place I was riding in, but male age groupers, likely strong swimmers, were already passing me. When I finally reached Snow Canyon, all hope for the wind dying down went out the window. If anything, it now increased to ridiculous amounts, slowing me down to 5mph in parts. I love climbing on my bike and last year really enjoyed the bike course. But with a headwind at 25-30mph, reported gusting into the 40s, it was a struggle to get up even the smallest hill. You simply never caught any speed. I was in my smallest possible gear and was barely moving coming up the first of the two big climbs. This just could not be good, considering I still had another lap of this.

Finally, as I reached the infamous "wall",  the steepest climb of the course, I turned up the switchback, and the wind ceased. It was now at my back, literally pushing me up. It was the most effortless climb up a steep grade I have ever done. I heard a spectator tell me I was in fourth place, which tremendously helped lift my spirits. I had not seen another pro since getting on the bike. And it lasted all of 5 min or less, until the head wind returned and I was forced back in my small chain ring while riding the flats. My nutrition had been going OK, despite being scared to let go of my handlebars. I tried getting down more solid foods than gels on the bike, to try and settle my stomach and get some much needed calories in before the marathon, and I think it worked well. I also had a couple of Tums, to help with settling my gut and electrolytes. I popped a couple of salt pills as well, although the wind kept me pretty cool, even in my aero helmet. At last I reached the long downhill section of the course, and just like the prediction, I now had a screaming tail wind, almost scary fast in some parts. Still, my split for the first bike segment was ridiculously slow, but I kept telling myself that everyone had these conditions and that times today would simply not matter. I wondered how Brandon was doing, how the other female pros were doing.

Lap two of the bike was a repeat of lap one, with the difference being that now more age groupers were out. I wondered how any of them had gotten past the swim cutoff, as they seemed so far back in the race.  (Turns out, the officials let some people continue without their timing chip and hence an official finish time, but allowed them to go on if they missed the swim cut off by a few minutes.) I urged on a few of them who were walking their bikes up the climbs, but I was struggling badly myself. With the conditions it was hard to believe that some people still managed to blatantly draft, going by me in a nice train, looking back every few seconds to check for course marshalls and taking turns pulling. Really rather disheartening, especially when you work hard to race fair and cover every inch of the course with your own strength. But it will be what will be, and I couldn't let myself waste energy on something I could not control.

After over 6 hrs on my bike, finally back in T2

The wind was literally eating my strength. I could tell my quads were getting tired and yet I couldn't let up on the climbs, as I was barely moving at all. The wind drew up a few more mini twisters of sand/ dirt, and I had to turn my face sideways as to avoid getting blinded with it in my eyes. (I did get some in my mouth, yum) When I got up the wall for the second time, I knew I was relatively close to being finished with this beast of a bike course. The wind managed to nearly push me off my bike one last time, before I reached the downhill section for the second and last time. I put my fear of high speeds on the bike aside, and booked it downhill at speeds that I have probably never reached on my  bike before. Nevertheless, there were still some parts where a nice cross wind would surprise you, so I couldn't shut my brain off quite yet. At least I reached the dismount line, and boy was I happy to be off my bike. I literally could not wait to get my run on.

 THE RUN: I left T2 with a bounce in my step, something I have never felt before in an Ironman. Could have been the massive crowd support right out the gate, or Dave's camera again, or the fact that I was just so happy to be off the bike, I don't know. I literally had to tell myself to slow down, I still had 26mi to go. Then for the first time all day, I heard my mom's voice. She told me I looked good. Thanks mom. The run course was changed from last year, made a little easier by meandering mostly through downtown, up and down neighborhood streets. Although slightly hamster wheel- like, the crowds on every corner were such a big help, so the fact that we had to do 3 laps of 4 out and backs was almost forgotten. Still, the course wasn't flat. It was either a false flat downhill, or a false flat uphill, with a steeper climb out to the last out and back on Diagonal Street.

I felt really good during the first lap. I had a lead bicycle to clear a path for me and I was in fourth place. Shortly before the turn-around on the third out and back, I came up on Mackenzie who had pulled out. I wanted to stop and talk to her, but the Ironman brain had set in and so I just looked at her and hoped that she would start up again. My bicycle now changed from fourth to third, and it looked like this day was turning around for me. I had to make a stop at a porta pottie and as anyone who has done an IM knows, once you start going, you can't stop. I think I was in there for 2 mins and it just kept coming... I knew fourth place wasn't too far back, so once I got done with my little break, I picked up the pace a bit, trying to make up for lost time. I felt pretty good and before I knew it, I passed my family again who encouraged me and told me I looked strong.

Passing family shortly after halfway, starting to feel the effort, trying to stay cool

Lap number two went good for about half, which happened to be the halfway mark of the marathon. I had only had a gel so far and I knew I was in need of some calories. However, my stomach had shut down and all I could seemingly handle, was coke and water. I took sips at each aid station and dumped plenty of water on my head as well, and loaded up with wet sponges. Although not as insanely hot as last year, it was pretty toasty now and I knew that in order to keep running well, I had to cool my engine. By the end of lap two I had to start walking some aid stations. The effort of the day was clearly setting in. I was getting bouts of nausea now and needed to figure out what I could eat. Nothing at the aid stations looked good to me, except the orange slices, so I sucked down a couple of those along with some salt, and was able to pick it up again.

Thank you, aid station volunteers!

By the way, the aid stations were great. Just like last year, they were my saving grace, encouraging me on ("girl power", "you go girl", whoo hoo, 3rd place") when I felt my lowest, some even getting in my face and telling me to keep moving when I started to walk. Thank you guys, you made a huge difference! My lead biker would diligently stop and wait for me when I slowed down, and lead the way again when I was running. I think his name was Brandon, and although we never exchanged a word, thank you for your help out there!

By lap three I was in a world of pain. The hurt was turned on 100% and every step was a struggle. My knee felt good, so that kept me mentally really happy. I needed this. I needed to prove to myself that I could race an IM again after last year's injury that had me question at times if my days running were numbered. (Never believe the docs who say surgery is the only way out; it is not, especially not for the knee. Thanks to the help of a trusted friend who is a PT, I had been doing daily strength work for my knee all winter and spring and I am now confident that I have beaten this injury, as evidenced by my finish Saturday.) I developed cramps in my feet. My quads and calves were screaming, but I knew this was it, I had to keep pushing. I could tell my pace had slowed down tremendously, but I was still in third place and if I just kept going, I had this! Another female with a "4th female pro" biker was catching up to me, although still far back enough to not have to worry, but I could not figure out who it was. Turns out she was actually a super speedy age grouper who was in the mix somehow. Either way, she had me running scared for a bit, so thank you, Danielle :)

Rounding the "Hot Corner". I got this!

Finally I could hear the finish, I freaking had this in the bag! I rounded the last little out and back right before the finish chute, attempted to slap people's hands as they stretched them out for high 5's, and then there it was: the finish line! My biker stopped and I gave him a half waved thank- you, and then deliriously kept shuffling along the right side of the chute slapping more hands (sorry left side, I couldn't muster the energy to make it over there) and tried my best to fake a smile ( I don't think it worked too well.) through the pain, and then everything halted and my feet crossed the finish. What. A. Day. Over 40min slower than last year, even with the "faster" run course. My mom was right there, two volunteers half carried me to medical as I thought I was going to pass out. I couldn't make the interview for whoever wanted to talk to me (sorry!) and then finally, I was able to stop moving. Through all the day's ups and downs, its tremendous challenges that no one could have predicted, I still managed to finish third. Repeat third that is. I was happy. But I was also sick and nauseous. A few sips of chicken broth and a few good burps helped settle my gut again and off I was to see Brandon come in. When he did, he made me really proud. My first Ironman was Kona 2008, and I think this was tougher for sure. The mental challenges of the day were something you cannot optimally prepare for, and Brandon didn't give up, played it conservatively, and finished without being defeated by the course.

Meters from the finish, feeling pain and relief at the same time.

Contrary to last year, I did not get drug tested, most likely because of the huge decrease in the prize purse? I will get a whopping $1700 for my effort, last year it was over $5000. Without the help of main sponsors, this is pretty minimal salary for months of training and commitment, but all I can do is move forward and get the results and hopefully someone will notice and believe in my abilities to take me on board. A few not so nice circumstances early in the year left me with empty promises and minimal support. I am grateful for the support I do get from Powerbar, Rudy Project and Rock Tape however, thanks for letting me represent your brand!

I wouldn't trade the opportunity to have raced in St. George for the last time. Anyone who was out there battling these conditions all day, is a stronger person for it. It will only build a tougher athlete in the long run. It will be sad to not have the chance to race this Ironman next year.

My recovery is going well, and I cannot wait for a race that will have weather conditions a little less dramatic than my first two races this season. I am proud of finishing, proud of my fellow pros for toughing it out as well, and so proud of Brandon for dealing with the situation and finishing the hardest ever Ironman out there. Hopefully this won't scare him from trying another one :) Everyone who raced this event shares a special bond that only truly can be understood by those who were out there. Thank you to all friends and family for their encouragement and well wishes. It certainly helped me get through the rough patches. Thanks for reading and until next time!

Leadman EPIC 125k

When I decided to sign up for this race I was well aware of the tough course and thought to myself that this would be a great way to do a test drive for IMSG in May. I even convinced Brandon to do the race with me (He just happened to win his AG, ahem), even if we both briefly swore off triathlon after finishing :)

exiting an insane swim.

2.5k SWIM: I closely followed the forecast for Henderson/ Boulder City, NV all week. The winds grew increasingly strong each day and some forecasts predicted gusts of up to 70mph or more. Needless to say, I was somewhat worried. ( I get super freaked out by wind on the bike.) But it is what it is, and since it was called Leadman Epic, the race organizers did not cancel the swim just because it was blowing waves across the lake before we even got in. At 10 a.m., I entered Lake Mead along with the other 10 pro women, wearing an extra cap to prevent brain freeze (The water was cold.) The gun went off and it was my chance to see how my swim training as of late would pay off. I lost all but one pair of feet I managed to stay on, and found myself swimming in no mans land yet again, only this time it felt like someone turned on the waves in the wave pool. Each time I tried to lift my head to sight or even take a breath, I'd take a nice gulp of water and nearly choke/ gag on it, compose myself by breast stroking, and then try again. Obviously, it would not be the day for a new swim PR, not even close. I struggled back to shore, hoping not to face plant upon exiting the swim, due to potential sea sickness. The exit ramp was uphill into the transition, which was uphill, which lead into the start of the bike course; uphill :) I saw only my bike left in transition, so I knew I had some work cut out for me. With no idea of how far ahead everyone else was, I headed up the road to start the bike.

About to start the craziest ride ever

 69mi BIKE: It was 10:45 by now and things were heating up on the blacktop roads. The various brush at the side of the road was starting to sway, letting me know the furnace of the desert was turning on. I made the choice not to go with my race wheels (404ish's) and rather stay on my slightly less aero training wheels. I did opt for my Aero helmet and before I was even 10mi into the race, my head was baking like a potato. The neat thing about this race was that it all took place in the park. I had no idea how big Lake Mead National Rec Area is. It's huuge! Nevertheless, roads were open to traffic, which included mostly big trucks with boat trailers, SUV's, and the occasional smaller Sedan. I had a few near run ins I'd have to write a different blog about...

Anyways, I caught up to Sam at mi 10 and slowly moved up through the field, riding into 5th place after the turnaround. I traded places with Christine a few times, passing her on the uphills, while she booked it past me on the downhills. Speaking of downhills, I should mention the wind. There was not one spot during the bike leg where you could relax. It was always either a head or cross wind or, my favorite, an unpredictable swirly wind which could strike from any direction and change direction while it was hitting you. On more than one occasion, I was hit by the swirly winds on a descent, can we say sketchy?! These winds were not just winds, they were the strongest gusts I have ever experienced while on a bike. Kona, ppffff, nothing... I heard the gusts were up to 60mph in places and I believe it. Sustained winds probably averaged in the 30s. In addition, the heat was almost unbearable to me. It felt like an oven. With the temps in the mid 90s for the day (hot even for Vegas this time of year), it was easily over 100 out on the bike course. I grabbed as much fluids as I could at the aid stations, but unfortunately in this heat, there were not enough. I suffered the most on the bike while heading back to transition, the last 10mi of the course. The hot, hot wind was blowing so hard that I was riding downhill in my small chain ring, going max speeds of 10mph. I was starting to feel like a wilted desert flower, with my veins running out of liquid and needing replacement asap. I very quickly became weak and a little disoriented, while trying to stay the course and not getting blown into the road. Bouts of nausea hit and didn't go away. Those last 10mi felt like they took 40min, maybe they did. It was torture.

Tebowing for a volunteer in T2 while most likely telling her I need water.

 8.1mi "RUN": When I stumbled back into transition I had barely enough energy to whisper for water! I was told I'd get it upon exiting T2. I quickly switched to running shoes and grabbed a boiling hand held drink I had put in my bag (I was so desperate, I drank the whole thing.) and managed two sips of water on the way out. The run started straight uphill out of transition, no mercy. Although glad to be off the bike and onto the run, I had nothing and the insane wind continued, pushing me backwards, instead of forward. In a matter of minutes I was reduced to a walk. I made a deal with myself to walk the aid stations, which thankfully appeared every mile, get as much in me and on me as I could, and then hopefully regain some strength to shuffle on. Did I mention the run was all uphill? The elevation gain was 1200 ft and with a dehydrated, nauseous feeling body, all I could do to move forward, was put my head down and shuffle on as best as I could. I caught up to Emily and moved myself into 4th place, but I knew there were fast runners behind me, who were probably going faster than me on this day.

My salt deposits heading out of T2.

The run course to me was just "evil". Not only did we deal with the climbing, but the 40mph head and cross winds made it almost impossible to move forward in some spots. I was dizzy and disoriented, which is not a good thing when the course leads up the back side of a mountain with sharp drop offs. The aid stations were my saviors. The volunteers were great and so helpful. They walked with me to get me to take in all I could, handed me as much as I needed and encouraged me to go on as I whispered to them about how hot I felt. Who knew 8 lousy miles could hurt this much?? I neared the last mile, which includes the longest climb up to the finish, when Charisa ran past me like a gazelle. I was in awe of her focus and energy this late in the race, kudos to her. All I could do was look on and try not to throw up as I shuffled/ walked myself one step at a time. At one point I realized I was going no faster trying to shuffle than I was walking, so I decided to walk most of the last mile in, as I was hanging by a thread. I came into the finish chute and the barriers were flat on the ground, due to the damaging winds that would have otherwise tossed them all around. I managed to cross the line in 5th for the women, on a less than stellar day.

If I look like I'm standing still, it's because I practically am. Absolutely nothing left heading down the home stretch

Two days post race I am still having mixed feelings about my performance, but I am proud of finishing, even if I came away with some heat exhaustion. (the last two days have been rough...) I had to finish this, my last race was my first professional DNF (IMAZ) and I promised myself that would not happen again. It was also my first race of the year, first race to test my knee, so I am confident that this will help me become stronger for IMSG in a month's time. I came away with the 3rd fastest bike time of the day by just a few seconds, on training wheels, in the insane wind that still has my hands sore from holding my bars so tight :) My run and swim were slightly less impressive but I got some good feedback on what I need to work on still, and that is really all I can ask for from an early season race in such extreme conditions. Hopefully my sunburn is gone before I start my next race. (btw, anyone know of a good non chemical sunscreen that works well? Mine apparently didn't do the job in the oven of Vegas.)

The amazingly huge checks :)

 I can't yet say if I'll be back for this race, but to everyone who finished this on Saturday, give yourself a pat on the back. This to me was as hard as any hard IM I have ever done. Thanks to Rudy Project for outfitting me in some sweet sunglasses and helmet and Powerbar for my fuel, and the folks of Leadman EPIC / Lifetime Fitness for putting on such a crazy race that I won't soon forget!

Thanks for reading. Train safe and race smart :)

*photo credits- Sally Weil :)