Lessons Learned

Anytime that I travel for work and the subject of iron-distance racing comes up, it’s always a little awkward.  First the questions about the distance, order of events, then listening to stories of friends and family members who have done a “mini Ironman.”  Once people realize what you’re actually doing and begin to believe that you’re completely nuts, they seemingly always ask “Why?”  Other than being able to say that you went 140.6 miles in one day, why would one do this?  Well, I for one firmly believe that there are lessons about you that can only be learned from being pushed to the edge.  Some of us are lucky enough to be pushed to the edge by our own volition.  Others are forced so without their consent due to illness, injury, or tragedy.  And for some it’s both…you often find those who’ve gone through great personal adversity competing at endurance events – I believe that they’ve recognized the value and just want to do it in an environment that is mostly in their control. 

So when I’m asked the question of why, I could give the standard speech of, “Blah, hard work, blah, determination, perseverance, yadda, yadda.” And while all of those lessons are true and learned, the two that resound most strongly to me are honesty and trust.  And I’m unsure that I could learn these two lessons in any other environment.

Honesty:  “You can’t fake an Ironman.”  There are things you can get away with not training for, including a marathon, maybe even a half-Ironman.  It might hurt, you might be near the end of the pack, but you’ll more than likely finish, even if you walk the whole thing.  An iron-distance race is different.  I have known way too many very fit people who find themselves scrambling to make the 17 hour cut-off, despite even the best of training regimens, forget it without doing the work.  Being this open and honest, is hard.  It leaves you vulnerable and exposed in ways that you wouldn’t otherwise need to, or have to experience.   This year I had more than a few conversations with the Cadence coaches that went like this:

“Are you ok?”

Responsive grunt of “Fine” or “Sure.”

“Are you lying to me?”

Responses here are typically (though not always verbalized as such): “Yes, I’m fine, I just need a little validation and attention.”  “Yes, I’m fine, just miserable and whiny.” “No, I’m injured but refuse to admit weakness.” “No, I just don’t have it today.”  

Each of those responses requires a giant gulp of pride and exposure.  Granted, when you’ve got snot, tears, and sweat running down your face, can it really be uglier?  Those moments though, where you have to make a decision with yourself, are far more powerful than you can imagine. 

One of my mother’s favorite childhood stories about me is when students from Carnegie Mellon University asked her if I had been exposed to computers before.  I was in the 4^th grade and my single working mother laughed hysterically and said, “No.”  At that time no one had a computer, certainly not us.  When she inquired why, they explained that they had come to my classroom to do a study of how long it took children to learn to type a sentence.  We were instructed to type the same sentence 5 times.  They were hoping to see how long it took us to learn where the keys were.  Despite being told to only touch the keyboard, I used the mouse to investigate the navigational bar.  I knew the words copy and paste and so I typed the sentence, then copied and pasted it a few more times.  Not only I had I completely skewed their results, but learned about efficiency, and effectiveness.  I’ve spent most of my life finding a better, shorter, easier way to do things.  Well, in endurance events, there’s no such thing, and if there is, well, I want nothing to do with it.  I finally, at 34 years old, have learned to embrace the long work, have patience, and be honest, even if it’s ugly, it’s far better than taking a shortcut. 

Trust:  I’m slow to trust.  I’m calculated and generally don’t like risk.  So when presented this year with the opportunity to do my first ever drop-in off of a 20 ft cornice at 13,000 feet of elevation, I had to learn to trust.  First, I had to trust that Emily and Gaby knew my abilities enough to take me up this chair lift, and then up a climb.  I had to trust that it could be done when Emily dropped in “woo-ing” the whole time.  And then I had to trust Gaby when he said I could do it, if I trusted myself.  And there’s the hard part.  Had I not trusted my abilities, I could have easily toppled end over end down the mountain.  I had to believe that my friends wouldn’t lead me astray and would be completely honest with me.  And so, I dropped in, and successfully made it down the hill.  That sense of accomplishment cannot be gained in many other circumstances. 

A few years ago, I put a whole lot of blind trust in a 20-something with a mohawk in hopes that I could cross the finish line of my first Ironman.  Three years later, and iron-distance race #4, I still have full faith in Jack’s ability.  He’s one hell of a triathlete and an even better coach.  For those who don’t know, the #CadenceGirls range in age from mid-20s to mid-50s.  We are a fierce group who wants each other to achieve their goals as badly, if not more so, than to achieve their own.  We’re competitive and supportive, we believe in each other and our coaches.  We’re also completely insane.  We have high powered jobs, and demanding families.  We’re type-A to the max, over-stressed, and neurotic.  These are my best friends and sometimes I’m overwhelmed.  How Jack and coaching partner Matt handled this crew and all of their nuances, is remarkable to me and no task I would ever undertake. 

Like any good coach, Jack says semi-cliched, nonsensical phrases that don’t make sense…until they do.  A favorite this year is in relation to chips and shoulders.  It sparked a bit of debate among the group: Is it one chip, or many chips?  One athlete remarked, “I feel like that’s a bad thing, sort of like, ‘You’re a big jerk.’”   And what kind of chips?  Poker? Potato?  As Emily and Gaby witnessed, I’m far better at putting a Family Size Bag of Lays on my thighs instead of my shoulders!  

As it turns out, the origin of the phrase relates to a dare, as in daring someone to knock the chip (or wooden beam as it were) off of one’s shoulder.  This resounded a bit with me.  I can be damn belligerent, competitive, and my need to be right even gets on my own nerves.  But what were my chips?  I dare you to knock me off of the top of the podium, which I’ve never been on?  I dare you to question my naturally athletic ability?  I’ve come to realize that everyone has different chips. 

Mine are: 

Hard work. I rarely miss a workout.  I stopped thinking I knew everything and listened to those that came before me, and “sometimes” even my coach.

My ability.  I would have told you that I had some success in spite of my ability, but I have worked hard so that I can have belief and confidence in my progress.

My support system.  I have the strongest friends out there.  If I can’t do it myself, I know that the Cadence girls and guys (#3rdRowForLife) will pull me through.

The winds at Maryland are going to be tough.  The Choptank may push me around and try to knock those chips off, but I know that no matter what, even if I fail, I have earned the right to own those chips, put them on my shoulder, and I dare anyone, or any course, to try to knock them off.  

St. Anthony's Race Report

Searching for an article for my dissertation, I found this Race Report which I wrote on the plane on the way home from Florida but never published.  Enjoy.

St. Anthony’s Triathlon Race Report - April 26, 2015

Since I started racing triathlon, the first race of the year has been like Christmas, a day when all of my good behavior, or greens in Training Peaks, will be rewarded.  I typically spend time the day before being excited about packet pick-up, planning what I’ll wear, where I’ll park, and having every race day logistic planned to a tee.  When I learned that I would be travelling for nearly three weeks straight and that I would be in St. Petersburg, FL the last weekend of April, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to race St. Anthony’s Tri.  I had been to the race as a spectator and it seemed like a fun excuse to learn to travel with my bike.

In addition to heavy travel, I’m also in the throes of marathon training and while having a 19 mile run the Thursday before a Sunday race wasn’t ideal, it would be a nice break from the long winter.  

Unfortunately, my 19 mile run led to a pretty horrendous sunburn and by the time Saturday’s packet pick-up rolled around I wanted nothing to do with the race.  I was tired of being on the road, tired of the heat and sun; I was sore, blistered, peeling, and generally not excited to do what I’ve been most happy doing in the past 4 years.  As I got in line for pick-up, that dread intensified.  I had the most awful bike, body, and ability insecurity imaginable.  When did EVERYONE in my age group get a tri bike and disk wheel?  Do all tan people have six packs?  Does being tan make you actually faster, or just look faster?  I was already doubting myself and seeing Tri-Barbie at every turn didn’t help. 

I got back in the car after racking my bike and started sobbing; I wanted to go home.  I texted with my husband who told me to just take it as a training day, and I talked with my friend Emily who has the same mental demon taking up space in her head too.  Luckily he only lives in one brain or the other so we can usually talk each other off the ledge.  I contemplated emailing my coach and asking him to just give me a nice Sunday workout. And then I decided, I would do nothing, I would go to bed early, sleep in, and deal with the consequences the next day…until I remembered that I’d have to go back to St. Pete’s and get my bike.  Then as I watched the news that night I saw sadness and grief in Nepal then anger and confusion as Baltimore burned.  I decided that I needed to stop being selfish and take my friend Roy’s advice and simply be filled with gratitude.

So at 1am, I climbed out of bed and decided to pack for the race.

Happily when the alarm went off at 4am I felt good and ready to go, and really, who sleeps in on Christmas?  Having done such nonsense races as Challenge AC in its inaugural year and Philly Tri the year it got so hot that they shut down the race, I’m always hesitant to complain about heat or wind…that said, the winds were howling as I hopped in my rental car and the humidity was already at 86%. 

The quick drive from downtown Tampa to St. Pete’s was easy at 5am.  I followed some cars and luckily found a spot to park since I’d done no prior research.  I met some really nice people from Tampa who walked with me to transition.  It’s a terribly isolating experience to race totally alone, no one to cheer for you, calm your nerves, talk with to get rid of that nervous energy.  I looked at each face and bike that I walked pass, hoping that I’d see a familiar face.  Finally I did.  I saw a mutual friend from Philly who now lives in Naples, Mike Egan.  A quick hello and well-wishes and I was alone again.  I got transition situated and started the long walk to the swim start.  Thankfully I ran into two people I’d met at the expo the day before, Jeff and Kate.  I met them during the expo as I hunted for a shrug to cover my blistered shoulders; they brainstormed with me and even offered to bring me something to wear.  Kate wasn’t racing because she is 8+ months pregnant (and since she was having contractions at the start of the race, I’m guessing is a new mom by now!).  Jeff was racing the Olympic distance for the first time and scared to death that he’d be a dad by the time he finished the swim.  I was so happy they recognized me and let me stand at the start with them.  A few moments later the group that I had walked to the start with approached Jeff and Kate, it turns out they are all in the same training group.  And that’s the great thing about triathlon, the support.  I was happily no longer alone, and the race was about to start.

The swim was really great for the first third, then a ninety degree left turn and the waves picked up.  I found a few feet to hold on to but the waves made it nearly impossible to follow for any length of time.  When I hit land I felt great and took off running, I was floored to see the number of bikes still in transition when I got there. 

Swim time:  31:03, T1:  1:37, AG rank: 9^th

The bike is where I started to feel the fatigue in my legs.  The “out” of the first out and back was a gradual uphill, right into a headwind.  I decided that I’d already come this far, so it was time to make myself small and just keep fighting.  Those who know me well know I’m not great at bike handling, so maintaining nearly 20 mph on a very technical course was a huge win for me.  I did make one huge error however…in my total lack of planning for this, I never thought to verify how long the course was and decided that it was 29 miles when it was only 24.  I should have been hammering at the end but instead I let myself get lazy.  I will say that T2 was quite a surprise when I got there! 

Bike time: 1:47:52, T2: 2:04, AG rank: 9^th

There’s nothing to say about conditions on the run, other than it was HOT.  Heat index turned out to be in the 90s, temps in the high 80s, and humidity around 86%.  I was certain my first mile was 10:00 pace.  When my watch buzzed, it was 7:48.  At the turn around I had guessed that I was about 4 back from the leader.  At mile 5 I passed two girls in my age group.  In the last 200 yards those two girls plus one more would sprint past me.  They would beat me by 13 seconds, 10 seconds, and 8 seconds respectively.  I can only boost my ego to convince myself that they were in a pack and plotted to take me down.  When they passed me they were three abreast but slowly spread out.  I begged my legs to go with them, but they just wouldn’t.  By my fuzzy triathlon math I was in 6^th or 7^th at the finish.  Luckily, one of the girls that passed me just happened to be in the Athena category and I ended up taking 5^th place in my age group, missing 3^rd by 13 seconds.   Even luckier for me, St. Anthony’s goes five deep. 

A great moment happened at the finish, the girl who beat me by 8 seconds stopped to congratulate me, we hugged and went on to congratulate the girl that kicked both of our asses.  As we were doing so we ended up photo bombing her post-race portrait.  It was such a nice moment and an awesome experience to be hanging with the fast kids.

Run time: 49:09, AG rank: 3

When people ask me what my best event is in triathlon I immediately blurt out, swimming.  While I don’t look like a runner, or a cyclist, my shoulders are broad enough to convince people I have some ability in the water, but who knew a girl from up north could take 3^rd in a hot Florida run?!  I found wonderful people willing to take my photo as I received an award for which I am SO grateful.

I saw my new friend Jeff as he successfully finished his first oly; they were right off to the hospital!  I can only hope and pray that they had an easy delivery and health baby!  While racing alone isn’t ideal, I met wonderful people, remembered again that I am lucky enough to do this sport, and over the moon about the result. 

My Marathon Playlist

Those who know me, know that music is a huge part of my athletic endeavors.  I have a training playlist, a pre-race playlist, and then a specific playlist for each race.  Usually it's just music that I enjoy listening to, or music that gets me excited.  This race is different...I'm preparing to put myself in a place that I'm not sure that I've ever been.  I figure the only way I'll be able to do that is to completely distract myself from the task at hand and think of all of you.  So for the Poconos Marathon I've put together songs that remind me of a place, time, or friend from the past year or so.  Since these moments and songs mean so much to me, I wanted to share with all of you. I'll be using some good advice from Jill and only using this play list from miles 19-26.2.   Enjoy!


Go - Avalanche City - Okay, this song just makes me really happy.

Levels - Avicii  - The song that was playing when I almost killed Anna and I trying to find pasta in New Jersey.  #Hangry

Sail- AWOLNATION - Always one of my favorites but two weeks ago Coach Matt decided to not kill us at Cadence with "power ballads" and this was the first song on the newly chosen Pandora station.

Wagon Wheel- Darius Rucker, Ketch Secor & Bob Dylan - Steve and Amanda's wedding.  The one song the whole wedding got on the dance floor for. I haven't seen my mom and her fake knees dance like that in years. And of course my favorite gal from North Carolina.

Tervaskanto - Korpiklaani - Heading to the Islanders/Rangers game with Dave Starr.  This might be the only song we ever agree upon.

Bailando (English Version) [feat. Sean Paul, Descemer Bueno & Gente de Zona] - This song played in every restaurant and store I went into in Barcelona.  Since I was mostly alone and didn't have anyone to talk to, I tried to learn some Spanish by downloading the English version and trying to figure it out.

Blank Space - Taylor Swift - The song that haunted me at Florida Tri Camp. It was on the radio in Jack and Alyssa's car every time we had to go somewhere.  When I thought I was going to die at Mile 11 of the Naples Half Marathon the damn thing was playing at the Aid Station, that laugh got me through the last two miles.

This Is How We Roll  - Florida Georgia Line (feat. Luke Bryan) - From a great Pittsburgh spin in March with Jim Needles.  Jim is the spin instructor at the YMCA.  When I decided I should get back in shape post college, I walked into the Y and took my first spin class.  Jim convinced me I needed fancy cycling shoes, and then pedals on my old Schwinn.  It started a snowball to say the least.

I Need Your Love (feat. Mohombi, Faydee & Costi) - Because Shaggy.

Roar  - Katy Perry - Emily and Gaby's basement.  Struggling through 8 miles on their treadmill while everyone else drank beer and waxed skis.  This song came on more than once and it's one of Emily's favorites.  This song will also remind me of my badass running friend Jamie who created the Eye of the Tiger award which is proudly in my possession for this race.

Animals - Martin Garrix - Pittsburgh Penguins pre-game warm-up.

See You Again (feat. Charlie Puth) - Wiz Khalifa - Wiz almost cost me my job when I brought him to perform at Point Park University before the national release of Black and Yellow.  He was such a young punk, but a nice one.

Renegades - X Ambassadors - I drive a jeep and well, "Go forth and have no fear."

Shake It Off - Taylor Swift - Kristy. She can suffer like none other and still sing Shake It Off.  Also shout out to Jack Brac for playing some Shake It Off Radio for the two of us on Tuesday morning.

Where Is My Mind? - Pixies - Maxence Cyrin's version of this played nearly every week at Cadence Yoga.  That version is too slow for a running race, but this song will always remind me of Julie and the original Cadence yoga class in a building that will soon no longer be our training home.

Prayer In C (Robin Schulz Radio Edit) - The only other song that we heard in Florida.  And I believe the song that was playing when Sue Downing announced, "I like this" and proceeded to beat the hell out of everyone on the final 400.

Hey Brother - Avicii - Not sure when, but Anna started singing this constantly about a year ago, it's still my favorite song to run to.

One Day- Matisyahu - #DNationPhilly.  Every single one of you.  I love you.

Wavin' Flag - K'naan - Dan Lavelle and I at the DNation conference in Chicago in 2012.  This and Velobeats have helped me struggle through some hard work

 He's a Pirate - Pirates of the Carribean - Klaus Badelt - The most fun marathon I've ever run was with Jill in Disney.  We drank margaritas through the finishers chute and rode rollercoasters.  At the start of the race we ran by the Pirates display and this song was blasting.

Ai Se Eu Te Pego - Michel Teló - Sitting at cafe alone, sipping dry rose in Barcelona a street musician came to the table and started singing this.  I seemed to be the only one who didn't know the words so when the others started dancing, I had no choice but to join, one of the best moments I've had in 2015.

Westfall - Okkervil River - The only song Mark and I have ever been able to agree on to play on long car trips.  As this is our friend Dan's band it also reminds me of sitting in the ATO "hot tub" during senior week, drinking frozen drinks and listening to some good tunes.

Calvin Harris - Outside - Inexplicably fell in love with this song during the New York Islander's pregame warm-up as I was lucky enough to see a game in the Coliseum's last year.

Boondock Saints Theme  - I shouldn't have to explain this to anyone who is reading this.

Fight Song - Rachel Platten - See link below. These are the most inspirational people I know. I'll be channeling their strength in the final miles.

Wicked Wonderland - Martin Tungevaag - Emily and I dancing under the bright blue sun and gorgeous Colorado skis at Breckenridge, drinking beers, and rocking to this song.


So there it is, what will help carry me through some hot, humid miles tomorrow. I love you all so very much and wouldn't be doing these crazy events without bringing you along! Thank you.

Return of the Blog

As I'm currently in the middle of writing my comps (aka Comprehensive Exams) so that I can finally call myself "a doctoral candidate" and be ABD, it may seem an insane time to resurrect this blog, and it probably is.  But so was planning a wedding, living simultaneously in three different places, and working two jobs while writing my Master's Thesis; this is just par for the course.  This blog started as, and still is, a place for me.  You are all welcome to follow along and join in my adventures, but this is my place to write down my stories, race reports, and random thoughts; mostly so that they can live somewhere other than my already overly-cluttered brain.  This practice leaves a clear space for the tough writing...of which there will be much to come.

The other purpose for this blog was to publicly share my goals as a means to keep myself accountable.  For the whole of 2014, this blog was non-existent.  It's not that I didn't achieve things.  I did.  Lots of amazing things.  However, working a job that required 60+ hours in an office plus being on-call 24/7 (including weekends and holidays), then sitting in class 6 and a half hours every other Tuesday, left little time or energy for blogging.  Consequently, not having this space to write, left a head filled with too many disjointed thoughts, and lots of lost memories.  So for the purpose of my sanity, I'm blogging again.

As is customary for the first post of the new year, I've got some goals to share, BIG ones.  There's an internet quote that floats around that says, "If you're dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough."  Well, it's safe to say that 2015 is nothing short of terrifying.  This is less a list of goals than it is a list of to-dos.  These things are going to happen, I just need to believe and execute.  Since amazingly, I can't determine if racing Iron-distance triathlon or finishing my doctorate means more to me (yes, I'm serious), these are listed chronologically.

So big scary 2015, here's what we're doing:

1. Finishing written comps
2. Successfully defending oral comps
3. Skiing out west
4. Going for a Boston Qualifier during the Poconos Marathon on May 17
5. Going to lots of weddings of wonderful friends and family (invite list at 8 so far)
6. Racing USAT Olympic-distance Nationals in Milwaukee on August 9
7. Getting a top AG finish at Ironman Maryland
8. Finishing my dissertation
9. Successfully defending my dissertation
10. Having one hell of a party to celebrate

2015 has been pretty good so far:  I have a wonderful new job that requires 40 hours in an office plus some out-of-office time, but nothing that involves calling a student's parent at 3am.  I commute now, which has left time for catching up on podcasts that I love, mostly triathlon and endurance sports related, but also those related to higher education and my current job.  I spent the second week of the year at a tri-camp in Ft. Myers, Florida where I ran faster on a track than I ever have, "won" the swim workout, and went out of my comfort zone on the bike, all of which will be beneficial as this year goes on.  I've rediscovered my love of skiing, something that I'd only had the chance to do once in the previous 6 years, after being a weekend warrior most of my teens and 20s.  And most recently, work took me to the fabulous city of Barcelona, Spain, where I better understood what my role is in my new company and was able to see and eat my way around a fabulous part of the world.

Stay scared friends.

Life as a Bucco Fan

No matter what happens tonight, I'm going to enjoy something I haven't had the pleasure of doing in a long time, watch my Pittsburgh Pirates compete in a playoff game.  This blog will read like so many others you've read the past few months, yinzers thrilled for .500, then a winning season, and now this, playoffs!  While all of us were impacted differently by the unfortunate events of October 14th, 1992, I argue that those of us born in the early 80s took it the hardest.

My friends and I were 11 years old in 1992.  We were old enough to know and love baseball.  We knew the back of our favorite players' baseball cards better than we knew our phone numbers.  We could tell you batting averages, ERAs, and confidently fill out the scorecard that came in our game day program. We knew what pride meant, especially in The City of Champions.  But we were also young.  We weren't yet jaded by speculation of steroid use, or betting on the game.  We didn't know what kind of income pro athletes earned as our parents scrounged together the money to take us to dollar-dog night.  We had no idea that there were issues in the locker room.  These guys were just our baseball heroes.

I was born a Bucco fan.  My earliest photos are of me wearing a Pirate onesie.  I can't remember much being on our television growing up other than baseball.  Though my family is from Pittsburgh, I was technically born outside of Lexington, Kentucky.  Though it killed my mom to be away from home, she always said she could tolerate the tv in that part of the world because we got TBS, so she could see the Bucs when they played the Braves, we were close enough to Cincy to get the feed when they played the Reds, as well as any nationally televised games.

We moved back to Pittsburgh when I was 6 and my mom went to work for a wonderful woman named Maria, who happened to have Pirate season tickets.  Knowing my newly working and single mother didn't have endless fun money laying around, she would give up her seats nearly every Sunday so my mom could take me to the ballgame.  Her seats, by the way, were 9 rows back from first base!  And so my love affair with the Pirates began.  I had started playing baseball when I was 7, but wasn't good enough for the infield and bored out of mind in the outfield.  I complained to my grandfather (the biggest of Bucco fans).  He had a suggestion, do what he had done, become a catcher.  As he said, "You'll get to play every inning and be where the action is."  And so for the next ten years, I played catcher. Spanky LaValliere became my favorite player and 12 became my number.  I've worn number 12 in every sport I've ever played since.  I also started collecting autographs.  We would come to the ballpark early for batting practice and I used my tiny t-ball glove to start collecting signatures.  At present, there is only one notable 1991 & 1992 player missing from that glove...Andy Van Slyke.  The circumstances involving that are a different blog post, however.

My 9th birthday party was held at Three Rivers Stadium during a Pirate game.  That year I had determined that Van Slyke was my new favorite player.  No offense to Spanky, but AVS was slightly better looking.  My mom's friend Maria bought me my first, real sports jersey, #18.  I slept in it that night and so many others.  My mom once accidentally ironed the polyester sleeve, causing a part of it to burn, leading to the biggest fashion meltdown I can remember ever having.  The attachment to that jersey is unreal.

Then came the 1992 playoffs.  I won't rehash what happened, as we all already know.  But as Sid was called safe, I ran upstairs, tore off the Van Slyke jersey and cried myself to sleep.  Again, we were old enough to understand, but far too young to keep our emotions in check.  I believe I also vowed to never watch another Pirate game again.  The next year would bring a disappointing end to what I still contend is the best Penguins roster on record.  And by the time the Steelers lost to the Cowboys in 1995, we understood sports were a series of ebbs and flows.  Sadly, the Bucs never came back up, we just kept on "rebuilding."

I stuck with them though.  I used my job in Student Activities at Point Park University to purchase opening day tickets every year, even when I had to beg students to attend.  My friend Nate and I sat through all 9 innings in 2004 or 2005(?) when it was freezing rain.  I attended 7 straight opening days, praying for the Pirates to just be .500.  I once took verbal abuse from a 8 year-old in old Yankee Stadium while wearing my Sanchez jersey.  As he shouted, "The Pirates are losers!" I had no retort, we were.  We'd been losing for longer than this kid had been alive...twice as long actually.  I joined the Lady Bucs Club, which was an attempt to pair wine tasting with baseball to generate ticket sales.  I proudly sported my "Go Freddy Go" sign in the freezing cold (with many other excited fans) as Freddy Sanchez's run at the batting title brought one of the few bright spots of the past 20 years.

But I never stopped believing that we would someday be rebuilt.

And so here we are, with a playoff game this evening.  Someone asked where I would be watching the game.  I responded, "On my couch, wine in hand, Van Slyke jersey on (yes, it still fits), with a box of Kleenex nearby, for happy tears...and the endless replays of 1992 they are sure to show."

LET'S GO BUCS!  Raise It.

Racing Season Re-Cap

As I do each September, here's the re-cap of how the year went by the numbers.  The below is from my March post which outlined my racing goals for 2013.  More were unmet than met this year, but it's okay because I set the bar pretty high.  I ended on a really high note with a 5th place Age Group finish in the Atlantic City triathlon.  This was also the year that I finished my first Ironman-distance event.  There has also been an addition to this schedule which is the Marine Corps Marathon.  My goal will be to go under 4 hours.  I must say I'm a little tired from this summer and I'm not sure how that race will go but I'm going to give it what I've got!

March:

• 17th, Shamrock Marathon, VA Beach.  Goal: 4 hours - L 4:11

April: 

• 25th-28th, USA Hockey 30+ National Championships, Tampa FL. Goal: National Champions - L 3rd Place, again.

May: 

• 5th, Broad Street Run 10 Miler, Philadelphia PA. Goal: Sub 90 min -  J 1:26
• 12th (my birthday!), Race for the Cure 5k, Pittsburgh PA. Goal: sub 25 min - L 26:09 (PR on this course!) 
• 18th, American Zofingen, New Paltz NY. Goal: Finish Middle-Distance - L DNF again at this distance.  Already registered for 2014. 

June: 

• 23rd, Philadelphia Olympic Triathlon, Philadelphia PA. Goal: 2:50 or Top 30% of AG - L 2:56, 33% of AG

July: 

• 20th, MidNight Loop 8.4 miles, Philadelphia PA. Goal: 1:15 - Cancelled 
• 28th, Pittsburgh Olympic Triathlon, Pittsburgh PA. Goal: 2:45 or Top 30% of AG - (This race was done after an 8 hour training day the day before so it gets a J!) 2:48, 10/19 for AG

August: 

• 18th, IM Mt. Tremblant, Mt. Tremblant, Quebec Canada.  Goal: Sub 14 hour - J 13:53

September: 

• 8th, NJ Gran Fondo, Morristown NJ. Goal: Sub 14 min on each hill - Did not register.
• 15th, Atlantic City International Distance Triathlon, AC NJ. Goal: 2:25 -  J Not the time I wanted, but 2:27, 5/18 in AG

IMMT Race Report: Race Day

After a half-decent night of sleep, I woke up at 4:30am, filled with the notion that it was going to be a great day.  My husband was nice enough to walk to transition with me where my first order of business was to get air in my tires.  After borrowing a pump and doing it myself, I became worried that I hadn't done a good job.  I walked the bike over to the bike mechanics who when I asked if it was okay, said in a thick French-Canadian accent, "Close, but not quite."  So to those guys, thank you.

With the bike racked and ready to go, it was off to walk to the swim start.  The weather was much better than the day before in that there was no fog and the visibility was great.  The atmosphere that IMMT created was everything I wanted it to be and so much more.  The amazing singing of the Canadian Anthem, the fire flares and cannon blast to start the pros, the fact that the female pros got the same treatment as the males (there is nothing more disappointing than fanfare for the male pros only for the women to be sent off with an air horn), the military fly over, all of it, perfect.  I had gotten my wetsuit on with my friend Jill, walked to give my husband a big kiss and then tried desperately to find two people that I needed to before the gun went off.  I found Dianne first, exactly where I knew she would be, near the front, cell phone in hand, recording video of the day.  Dianne is the person that gets up with me (even when neither of us wants to) at 5am to hit the pool.  I was thrilled to ask her to zip up my wetsuit and send me off to my corral.  Cue the second bout of uncontrollable waterworks.  Then it was off to find Sue.  Shortly after meeting Sue playing ice hockey, I happened to finish a marathon right next to her dad, mistakenly thinking she was taking my photo.  I learned shortly thereafter that she was training for IMLP 2010.  I remember tracking her all day on my phone that year and being so impressed that someone could do this.  After that we began riding together and she has been an invaluable source of information for biking, triathlon, hockey and more.  As I was lining up for my wave's swim start, Sue and I found each other.  We shared the biggest hug that you could imagine, waterworks bout #3, and for the first time all morning, I felt ready.

Photo courtesy of Dianne San Luis

Swim: While many people were excited about the wave start for the swim, myself included, I am now no longer a fan.  As a medium to strong swimmer in the 30-34 AG, I was engaged in a 2.4 mile dog fight.  First with my age group, then with the best 35+ women who were swimming through us and then, worst of all, the poor swimmers in the men's division.  In my mind, as a good swimmer, you can seed yourself in a mass start and find like-paced people.  Having to swim through frantic, grasping, gasping, and now tired, large men at the end of a race segment was terrifying.  Normally you can shake that sort of nonsense quickly, but not in the wave start format.  Being mistaken for a buoy, and dragged under with .4 miles to go was not exactly how I wanted my day to start.  Nonetheless, I came out of the water filled with energy, running the entire red carpet to T1.

T1: I grabbed my bag and started to change when I realized how badly I had to use a bathroom.  I was told that there were a "few" port-o-johns in transition, but that I should change clothes first.  After doing so I took off sprinting out of the tent and then waited for 5 minutes...yes 5 minutes...to use one of the two 'johns that were intended for the pros.  Though I still had a ton of energy, it was a big momentum killer.

Bike Loop 1: For a number of reasons, including that I had never biked more than 96 miles in my life, I was a little worried about the 8 hour bike cut-off.  I had done that math that if I could keep my pace above 15 mph I would be okay.  My coach had suggested a slightly more aggressive pace so I figured as long as I stayed between those two, I would make it.  The first bike loop was great, I was keeping a super pace and taking in the beauty.  I kept thinking of what Sue had said the day before, which was to look around, take it all in and then be happy you get to see it one more time.  The Montee Ryan seemed to fly by, the out and back on 117 was challenging but fun, after the turnaround I was able to see my friends Heather, Sue, and Jill.  They all started in the wave behind me.  Admittedly I'm a better swimmer, but they are all better bikers, so I just held on waiting for them to catch me.  The small town of Saint-Jovite brought waterworks #4 as people lined the streets cheering in French and English, "Allez!  You can do it! Bravo!"  The Chemin Duplessis was exactly what I figured it would be...hard.  My goal was to keep it under control for round one and stay safe.  Those who bike with me know that I have walked my bike down far more hills than I have up.  As we started the final descent, some spectators (pretty much the only ones on that section) started screaming to slow-down.  Terrified that there had been a crash, I did as instructed.  As I made the bend, I realized that one of the spectators had a handful of pebbles and was throwing them at the butt of a deer who had managed to get stuck in the middle of the road.  Luckily his plan worked, the deer darted off and from what I could tell, no one lost any time or too much momentum.

Bike Loop 2: I had mentally prepared for the "dark" places in this race.  I had strategies lined up for how to deal with them.  Every so often I would check-in with myself and see if I needed those yet and each time, I realized that I was still in a happy space.  I started off on the second loop of the bike race and realized that while I was still happy, it was getting to be a little uncomfortable.  It was hot, windy (in all directions), and the pack had become spread out.  I was so thankful for the rest areas along the bike course.  I was able to refill my water bottle, get slathered in sunscreen, grab a banana and with volunteers moving at the speed of a NASCAR pit-crew.  One issue though was that the drop zones were too close to the end of the water station and at one point, I ended up with an extra bottle that I didn't need, but couldn't throw out for nearly 10 miles.  I made the turn around on 117 and got past the next aid station.  At that point, on the flats at the top of the hill, I witnessed one of the scariest things you could see.  A female rider just ahead of the biker directly in front of me, inexplicably fell over her back left hip and face-first on to the pavement.  The rider in front of me stopped as did two in the opposite direction.  Realizing that no one had phones, I took off at record-breaking speed to find a volunteer.  By this point I was sobbing at what I had witnessed (she was not moving when I passed).  I flagged down a volunteer and he sprinted to his car.  The rider who had been behind me caught up to me a few feet later, asked if I was okay and confirmed what I had believed to be the case, that this rider had passed out before hitting the ground.

**I have had the good fortune, thanks to social media, to be in touch with this rider.  She is doing okay after three days in the hospital.  This was her 23rd Ironman and she is past retirement age!  We spoke on the phone the day after she was released, not only about the accident and questions she had, but about Ironman.  She is already registered for IMMT 70.3 and will hopefully be given a clean bill of health to continue participating! **

As we made the turn into Saint-Jovite, I started to hurt.  My lungs and mental state were okay, but my left knee was not.  I think all of the climbing had made it really sore in addition to having taken a tumble on a city sidewalk the Monday before the race.  Whatever the case, I started to slow down...big time.  Having had to train mostly alone for this event due to my school/work schedule, I was always able to go at a pace I wanted to, without fear of being dropped.  I think that had I trained at a faster pace over long distances, I could have held it together a little better.  That said, the hills of Montee Ryan and Chemin Duplessis just about did me in.  I was so happy to hand over my bike to the volunteers and get busy running.


T2: Quest for a bathroom continues, luckily I found a few just outside of transition!

Run:  I hadn't yet reached a dark place in the race so I figured it was coming on the run.  I had a goal to run a 10:30 pace.  As the first mile clicked by at 11:45, I was worried that I was in real trouble.  Then at about Mile 2, I took a bee sting to the neck.  I hadn't been stung in 15 years until this earlier this summer, when I was stung twice in one day.  I'm glad it happened so that I didn't have to worry about being allergic in the middle of a race (thankfully I am not).  The volunteers were literally prepared for EVERYTHING.  I came running in towards the aid station saying, "bee sting" and holding my neck.  In less than 30 seconds a volunteer had some cream and a iced cloth on my neck and I barely even slowed down.  There were two aid stations with music blaring, I made sure to run-dance (shout out to my friend Natalie) through all of them.  It was a great chance to smile, shake out the arms and further enjoy the whole experience.  The first loop seemed to come and go quickly.  I had settled into a 10:56 pace.

The out and back format of this run course was wonderful for seeing friends along the way.  Each hug from Vinny, high-five from Heather, Sue, and Matt, and Jill screaming, "You're gonna do it!" made me feel more and more energized and also brought on more waterworks.  I caught up to my friends Dan and Shawn around mile 23 and remembered why I got into this sport, to help people and fight cancer.  Dan, Shawn, Jill and I all met through the American Cancer Society's DetermiNation program and vowed to do an IM together.  Though we didn't get to train together, we had all signed up on the same day a year ago and by that point in the race we knew we were all going to finish!  Amazingly at that point I had still not reached that dark place and never would.

At mile 24.5 I was becoming anxious however and I wanted to be DONE.  Almost right on cue as I came down the final hill before the finish a small young girl with bleach blond curly hair and French-Canadian accent came running along side me.  It was now dark and she asked if she could run with me for a bit.  I replied yes.  She told me I looked really good for doing an Ironman and I was moving quickly.  As we approached the water station she asked if she could get me some water.  I said no, I just wanted to be done.  She took off ahead of me to tell everyone (in French) at the water station that I didn't want water and to just cheer for me (as best I can translate from what I heard.)  She then dropped back to me and as we ran through the aid station, no one offered water, just cheered wildly.  We approached the final hill and she told me to look for the police lights, turn left and then go be an Ironman.  Yep, more waterworks.  If anyone reading this knows that young girl, please pass along my huge thank you, she made the last mile before the finish go by in a flash and was so incredibly sweet.  With that final bit of inspiration, I took off like a mad-woman towards the finish.  I slowed down only to grab a Terrible Towel from my mom to wave as I crossed the line, smiling the whole way.  I was so excited that I'm pretty sure I committed an IM faux-pas as I passed a competitor between the last timing mat and the finish line.  This lead to Mike Reilly having to re-read both  names as her name had been read when I crossed since she had hit the other mat first...oops.  I'm so sorry to that athlete, I was just so excited to be an Ironman.


Finish: Official time: 13:53.  I had hoped for under 14 hours, with 15 being my max.  I had secretly wanted to go 13:30 and I think I could have if I had held the second loop of the bike together and not lost time in T1.  But hell, it's my first one and I'm done my 24 hours of being upset over it.  The two giant servings of poutine at the finish were worth every ounce of soreness I've felt since.  After I gathered my stuff, my family and I sat on our balcony, overlooking the finish and cheered crazily for every competitor that came in, all the way until Eve, the last one.  We would see them pass, then get very quiet so we could hear Mike Reilly announce that they had made it!  A perfect end to a near perfect day.

Afterthoughts:  After getting back on my bike I'm even more hungry for the next race! Not sure I'll do a full IM next year, but plan to do one again for sure.  Huge thank you to my family for being part of this.  And there are not enough thank yous in the world to give my coach Jack Braconnier of Cadence Cycling and Multisport in Manayunk, PA.  It is something special to be coached by someone who not only helps you train physically, but mentally. Being prepared for that dark space, but keeping the experience positive, is not something I could do a few years ago.  Letting go of my defeatist attitude and taking each minute as a positive light not only made this the most enjoyable experience I could ever imagine, but helped get me through the race feeling great.

I cannot recommend this race enough.  For my first IM experience it was everything I'd hoped it would be.  I'm spending the rest of this week recovering and thinking about the next race!  At some point, I'll take off the shirt, bracelets and tatoos...I swear.