Journey 140.6: The Confidence to be Fearless

In a short period, you go from believing that something is definitely not possible to believing that it is possible.  In fact, you begin to think that it might even be possible for you.

-      Don Fink, Be Iron Fit

It’s 2 weeks after my first half Ironman, and I can’t shake the thoughts.  The realization that I’m capable of so much more than I imagined. The hunger now for something more. The belief that Anything is Possible.

I begin searching. Criteria:  A late season race;  A flat course;  A drivable distance.  The best option is clearly Maryland, but I know there have been weather issues in the past.  Then again, so many races this year have had weather issues and Maryland was great.  I remember I can’t control the weather but I can control how I respond to it, as I proved in Atlantic City.  

But this search is different than any other one I’ve done.  I didn’t even believe it was possible 4 months ago when I chose a triathlon watch with a maximum battery life for a half Ironman because, surely, that is all I would need.  After all, I thought I may only have one half Ironman in me.  It turns out I think I have a lot more.

I check out what people have said about Maryland.  A great race director, a welcoming town, a rescheduled race 2 weeks after a hurricane….great weather, a hard swim….a cancelled swim…an easy swim…jellyfish, tough head wind….a good bike course.  As always, there are contradictions depending on the year.  But mostly they said, decide now because lodging sells out quickly.

I register Mike and me for Eagleman, MD 70.3 in June so I can familiarize myself with the course. Then, with shaky fingers, I hit submit and just like that I register for IMMD, my first full Ironman next September. And, I rent an expensive but great AirBnb right on the race course and near transition.  Yikes, what did I just do!

In the morning, I’m in disbelief.  I’ve never swum 2.4 miles, ridden 112 miles, or run a marathon let alone done all 3 in the same day.  A week later, I see my friends struggle through a tough Ironman Louisville course in the cold rain.  But I also see their strength and determination.  And, I see amazing stories like 85 year old Hiromu Inada who just set a world record being the oldest person to complete the Kona Ironman World Championship.  I see a Ted Talk by Minda Dentler, who is the first female wheelchair athlete to complete Kona.  It took each of them two attempts before they were successful in their record breaking attempts – they were not afraid to fail, readjust and come back.

My biggest birthday gift this year is not my tri bike.  It is the confidence to be fearless.

Journey 70.3: Reflections

My first half Ironman was also my first half Marathon

 A year ago, I signed up for my first Half Ironman.  I formally announced my journey in my December 31, 2017 blog entry “Journey 70.3: Getting Started”.  The journey to my first Half Ironman has been a success. Yet again, the transformation I see in myself is truly amazing….

A year ago, I was excited for new gear but at the same time scared to ride a Tri bike.

Now I can balance just fine and ride in aero with ease.

A year ago, I didn’t know if I would make the swim and bike cutoffs.

I made the swim cutoff with 16 minutes to spare and the bike cutoff with over 1 hour to spare.

A year ago, I had never run past 10K, and worried past injuries could come to bear.

I ran my first half marathon (2:14:29) in the rain on the same day I completed my first Half Ironman.

A year ago, I didn’t think I physically could do a full Ironman.

I finished my first half Ironman in 6:53:55 feeling good, and a belief that Anything is Possible.

Now riding with ease in aero

And along the way, I had an Olympic race PR, and ran my fastest 5K, and for the first time placed 2^ndin my age group in a sizeable field in 5Ks – twice!

I often ask myself, why do I Tri?  Along with the wonderful camaraderie, it’s pretty simple – I see these amazing transformations happening in myself.  In wishing me congratulations, my friend Wayne posted this quote from professional triathlete Sarah True which I absolutely love:

The paradox of sport is that it’s both trivial and deeply significant.

It can be play, entertainment, and a luxury. But it’s also a celebration of what it means to be alive and to be human.

Journey 70.3: Anything is Possible!

10 months of planning. 10-12 hours / week of training for the last 16 weeks.  Here I am in Atlantic City on September 21 getting ready for my first 70.3 half Ironman in 2 days.  After spending a week being a germophobic, weather hawking, tapering triathlete, I finally give up checking the weather and resign myself to whatever it will be since the forecast is changing constantly but looking like some rain.  I am here, I am ready and I am excited.

Mike and I arrive Friday and check into our AirBnB in Ventnor ahead of the 5 others joining us (more on that in forthcoming post).  We decide to pick up our packets and check out the race venue.  My excitement becomes greater seeing the Ironman brand in full force.  While my exercise is tapering, my hunger is not so we go to the Biergarten meet and greet for some food and mingling, meeting some nice triathletes who traveled from Indianapolis for the event.

Saturday is a beautiful sunny day.  We have to drop our bikes off the day before so we ride the 1.6 miles to the venue, and go to the athlete briefing.  Stephen Del Monte is a well regarded and beloved race director who gives a thorough and lively 1 hour athlete briefing.  What fun it is to go to the Women for Tri Meet and Greet and meet fellow women athletes who are active on the Facebook page.  Mike and I then do a brief run warm up on the boardwalk and return for pasta dinner prep and final race preparations.  My wonderful parents travelled to cheer us on so we adorn them in spectator gear.

The alarm sounds at 4am on Sunday and I’m looking forward to the day.  While this is the biggest and most important race so far of my racing career, my past experiences keep me calm and I go into normal race prep mode – eat my bagel, dress, and put on sun lotion even if I am uncertain of its necessity. As I’m about to head out the door, my quick transition shoe lace comes apart.  Uh oh – I run and grab an extra shoe lace and some twist ties so I can figure out what to do the in car.  It turns out we have plenty of time in the car for the 1.6 mile drive as there is a serious traffic jam just getting to the race venue.  It’s frustrating but we stay calm and get parked by about 5:45am. Time then flies as I do all of the last minute prep in transition, get my wetsuit on and the race begins at 6:50. Here’s how the race goes:

SWIM:  I’m remarkably calm as I line up in the 46 – 55 minute wave and wait my turn. As I get closer to entry, amazing volunteers cheer us on and encourage us and the line speeds.  Boom, I’m off!  Since I have confidence I will meet the 1h10 cut off with a smooth sailing pace, I decide not to push my pace and just keep calm.  At times, I get caught up in swim traffic and people are bumping into me. It feels like a washing machine, especially near the buoys.  Keep calm and just keep swimming I tell myself.  Before I know it, the exit is in site.  As I exit, I look at my watch and I’m right where I thought I would be around 53 minutes (54:10).  I use the wet suit strippers, a luxury I’ve never had, although I’m not sure how much faster it is as they struggle over my watch.

Seaweed beards are in!

T1:  I have a great spot along the other Philly Tri Club members near an exit and where I can see my parents cheering me on.  Rich Montgomery, the TriClub president, sees me and kindly tells me I have a green seaweed beard!  I learned after the MV tri a couple weeks ago to have a small towel to dry my feet to put socks on (which I don’t do for shorter races), which doubles as the beard removal method.  I also decide to wear my arm warmers given the cooler temps.  I end up having a 10 minute transition due to all of this and also because it takes me about 5 minutes to run and cycle out of transition to the bike course.

BIKE:  It’s not raining yet so I decide to get aggressive and pedal strong to make headway.  It’s a flat course and when I check my watch from time to time, I can see I’m consistently pedaling above 16-17 mph.  I complete loop one and begin the next loop on the Atlantic City Expressway – a new experience going through EZ-Pass lanes toll free!  Every time I go over the time chip checkpoint I think about the people virtually tracking me and cheering me on. 

Pedal to the medal pre-rain!

 The drizzle comes and soon turns into rain, and then heavier rain.  This is the most miserable fun I’ve ever had, I think to myself.  I pull into T1 with a very respectable bike of 3h22:54, 16.48 mph.

"The most miserable fun I've had!"

T2:  I bike the .5 miles that are part of the transition back in. I’m soaked so I change socks for the run.  I also have to pee so I head for the porta potties on my way out of transition – unfortunately I have to wait a few minutes.  All of this adds up to my longest transition ever at 12 minutes.

RUN:  Like every race, once I’m off on the run, I feel confident I will finish.  But this is my first half marathon run so I don’t know how I will fair.  My longest training run was 90 minutes, which equated to 8.5 miles.  The rain continues but the run along the boardwalk provides for interesting scenery and distractions.  And the volunteers at the aid stations are amazing.  Many are high fiving us, cheering us on by name.  I know I didn’t drink enough on the bike so I pause briefly for water at all of the beginning aid stations.  

A woman in my age group (I’ll call her ACK for her Adorandeck tri club suit) passes me but is just within my pace so I tag on behind her.  At the fishing pier, I see my parents who have wisely taken cover from the rain under a gazebo.  Out and back on the pier and for a period of time I’m on ACK heels drafting her – I’m sure she is annoyed, and I can tell she is tiring but I am staying strong so at some point I pass her.  I’m keeping a good pace until I hit a period where we have to navigate some sand and uneven surfaces.  About mid race, I also start to feel hungry so I decide to do a walk through one aid station long enough to eat a piece of banana.  ACK probably caught up to me during this and passes me so I once again stay on her heels.  I blow past the next aid station while she briefly pauses, she passes me again, I stay on her heels and pass her again at the next aid station.  

On the heals of ACK!

“Wahoo – we’re at ten miles people” I announce to my fellow racers as if they didn’t see the marker. With only a couple of miles to go, I pick up the pace and maintain it leaving ACK behind.  I know the finish line is approaching but I can’t quite tell how far it is, but then I see it.  I’m wet, I’m happy, and I know I can claim my first 70.3 as I raise my arms in jubilation.

ACK comes over the finish line soon after me.  In the end I look her up and she beat me by 1 second!  But we know this is really only a competition against ourselves and about getting better and better.  She pushed me to my best, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have finished my run in 2h14:18 if hadn’t been for her.  Since the gun time clock reads 7h21 when I cross the finish line, I’m not sure if I met my best possible goal of finishing under 7 hours, but looking at my watch, I see I finished at 6h53:55!

I DID IT!!!!!!

When I started my 70.3 journey, I was afraid of meeting the cut off times of a 1h10 swim, a bike that finished within 5.5 hours of my start, and a 8.5 total time limit. Despite the weather, I didn’t end up having any troubles.  My TriDot training program guided me perfectly, without injury and without overdoing it.  I proved Ironman’s motto that even at age 50, Anything is Possible!  Now I actually believe I physically could do a full Ironman 140.6….

Anything is Possible!!!

Twas the Night Before AC 70.3

'Twas the night before the AC 70.3, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The tribags were packed by the front door with care,

In hopes that Steve Del Montesoon would be there;

The athletes were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of finish lines danced in their heads;

And mamma in her trikit, and I in my swim cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long pre-race nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the Atlantic Bay,

Gave a lustre of Bader where transition objects lay,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But an AC jitney and eight volunteers,

With an energized driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. DelMo.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Denise! now, Kristy! now Mindy and Maggie!

On, Rachel! on, Ryan! on, Dawkins and Teddie!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of swag, and St. DelMo too—

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each bike shoe hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. DelMo came with a bound.

He was dressed all in lycra, from his head to his foot,

And his body was all tarnished with tritats and soot;

A bundle of pint glasses he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

For he had never learned how to say the word no;

The stump of a shot block he held tight in his teeth,

And the gu, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a flat toned belly

That stayed put when he laughed, unlike a bowl full of jelly.

He was cheery and fit, a right jolly young elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the tribags; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his jitney, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Ironman 70.3 to all, and to all a good night…brought to you by DelMoSports and Inspira Health Network!”