Post Race: Good Enough

And now - the moment you've been waiting for.  (Or at least, the moment I took my sweet time with, following the most drawn out race report ever).  If you're just tuning in, check out the last few posts that detail, in ridiculous navel gazing fashion, the Ironman Des Moines race day - the prep, swim, bike, and run. 

I did it.  And post race, after collecting all of our gear, rehashing the day, and following up with my awesome supporters from back home (you guys have no idea how much that meant to me - every text, message, Facebook post - thank you.  Ironman is a bit wild to most people but the support I had for this race was unbelievable and I am grateful to all of you!) it was time to fall into bed.

For about two hours.  Post Ironman is always a rough sleep night - turning your body from
being "on" to "off" after such an extreme event is tough.  I was up at 2:30am, packing and trying to move around.  By 6am, Ken and I had met up to move around a little bit in the pool, eat breakfast, and prep for the 15 hour drive ahead.

But first - we had to attend a little award ceremony.  I've never been to one of these for Ironman, and it was absolutely wild.  I got to meet Tim O'Donnell, Mirinda Carfrae, and Linsey Corbin - athletes I have followed for a decade.  I got to meet TO and Rinny's kids - and shake their hands, a starstruck fan, and try to explain how their presence inspires me, as a Mom with two little kids.  I got to meet Skye, the women's winner, who blew the course away.  And I got to see the awesome awards that someday I hope to be part of - it was absolutely unfathomable to me how close I came to placing in my Age Group for an Ironman, (and now I have something to shoot for!)  After the awards, we stayed for the Kona slot allocation.

Guys, I was on pins and needles here -  and wasn't sure how to feel about this one.  All I needed was one person to decline their spot...and it was mine.  I was in the biggest age group for the ladies, and therefore, if any woman's age group had no takers (a real possibility for the older age groups where there were only 3-4 people total) the slot would be available to me (they re-allocate based on volume within the gender).  Would I get a slot?

And...would I take it?  This still played in my mind.  I had spent an hour last night on the phone with Greg  discussing this.  On one hand, it was KONA - the World Championships, the race every triathlete dreams of at some point.  I had never expected this to happen, and I was still in disbelief that I had gotten the opportunity to even debate this.  We would be in Hawaii for my fortieth birthday.  Holy crap.  Could it get any better?? 

But....it was also another Ironman to train for.  In 4 months.  And I had spent the past 6 months juggling the sometimes insurmountable task of trying to train well for this Ironman while maintaining a marriage, two kids, my family and friends, and a demanding job.  And - I won't lie - at times, I felt like I was failing at all of it.  Not to mention that I would be asking so much of my husband for this dream - was this even fair??  Us endurance athletes are a tough lot - the sport is demanding and time consuming, and I had tried so hard to not let it interfere with the rest of my life, but that balance is precarious.  And I was unsure about it.

I have the best husband ever.  He listened patiently to me, and much like he did last June when I was unsure about World's 70.3 he said - point blank - if you get a slot, we go.  Damn the costs.  Damn the time.  I support your dream fully, and have seen the way you approached this race, and you did it well, always with an eye on the balance.  GO GET THAT SLOT. 

Well, that settled that.  And maybe that was the whole key to this - the balance.  As the slot allocation came to females 40-44 (I am 40 as of race age for tris) 2nd, 3rd, and 5th place had a slot.  I was 7th.  I watched as 1st and 4th took their slots - and 6th place was....well, you remember this.  The butt kiss woman I played tag with on the bike, who ended up beating me by 11 minutes.  I knew she was gunning for a Kona slot.  And I knew that I had come within that proverbially one placement away from going to Hawaii - she gleefully claimed her slot, just as I expected her to.

I was hanging out with Dave Zimmet at that point in time, who was talking some great coaching aspects with me (he coaches my other buddy Dave, who is Kona bound) and he encouraged me to stay until the end in case a slot was re allocated.  Which there was...for the men.  But all the women eligible for Kona wanted to GO! which I don't blame them for.  

There wasn't a slot for me this year - and with that, Ken and I started the long trek home. 

 Over the next thousand miles, I thought about it, and I've spent a lot of time thinking about it these past two weeks.  Am I disappointed? Of course part of me is.  I have always wanted to qualify, and it has always been a pipe dream.  It would have been so damned cool to go to Hawaii - and it blows my mind I got this close.  The last Ironman I did, I was 3 hours away from qualifying.  This time....I was 11 minutes.  And the irony of the fact that I played leap frog with 6th place and held 5th for a portion of the race shows me that with some more tweaking....its possible.  This year?  No.  Next year?  Maybe.  But its possible.  And that opens up a whole new area I have never seriously contemplated. 

But....I also know that it would have been tough to juggle.  And that all the places in life I've been borrowing from are not worth it to keep borrowing from right now.  

Ken and I got home at 4am in the morning....and at 6am my kids hopped all over me, ready to go to field day and have our picnic lunch together.  I slugged down a borderline illegal amount of coffee and joined them.  Because that's what's important right now.  Over the past two weeks, I've started introducing swimming, biking and running back into my routine, and have some fun races planned for the next few months before I work on my fall goals.  

But, more importantly....I've eaten a lot of ice cream sundaes made by Biz.  Done some biking with Rob.  Hit up Sea Breeze, jumped on the trampoline, and spent hours playing spa, having water gun fights, and piecing together lego's.  I've caught up with friends, and spent time with family.  Ironman....will be there again.  I did what I came to do and that's enough for now.  I fell in love with Ironman all over again, and "settled the score" with 140.6 that's been lingering since Lake Placid 2018.  And now...I am so excited to do it all over again...someday.  

People keep asking me - What's Next?  What Ironman are you doing??  You must be so bummed- you came so close!

All things considered - I'm not.  And Ironman and I are good for a bit.  Its time to look at that balance and remember this is a hobby.  I have some crazy awesome goals in mind for 2022 and 2023 and cannot wait to recover and go after them.  But its not 140.6.  Not right now. Ironman and I are good.  Or for now....good enough.

And with that, our Ironman Des Moines journey is complete.  It's on to the next adventure!

IM DSM Run: Runnin' With the Devil

 And here we are, part 3 of our Iron saga, and on to my favorite part of any triathlon - the run!  In case you're just tuning in to this novella - I came, I saw, could I conquer? - first a nice, easy 2.4 mile swim in Gray's Lake, then a beautiful 112 mile bike in the heat, hills, and gorgeous Iowa countryside, and now it was time to cap this race off with a nice 26.2 mile run through Des Moines parks and downtown Des Moines!  

I opted to change my top in T2, as the race kit was chafing a bit at the arms and after being drenched on the bike, I needed a change of pace.  I grabbed my roadkill singlet (badass factor quotient) and lubed up sunscreen, grabbed shoes, and filled my tri shorts with a few gels.  A wonderful volunteer hit me with sunscreen and filled my aquapod, and I was off!  I hot the porta potty for a quick stopper on my way out of T2 for a cool time of 7 minutes and change and was out for the marathon in 7:31 elapsed time.

Now, it's time to talk goals.  I've sort of been waffling during the whole training process, as the concept of a time goal was eluding me for this race.  I started out hot with a sub 12, then as I began to train, I saw more of an 11:30 - a 1:10-1:15 swim (nailed it) a 6:00 bike (also nailed it) and then a 4:00 marathon.  This was totally doable for all of my training work, and even though the goal scared the hell out of me, I was all in for it.  

Until Iowa introduced the concept of Kona like conditions into it's mix!  (Wait, scratch that.  The heat and humidity topped both 2018 and 2019 Kona - so hey - I was getting to race World's without qualifying!).  I hot mile 1 in at an 8:06 pace.  My legs felt amazing.  I was on fire!  Wait...I really was.  I realized really quickly that the temps were just too damned hot for that pace and I would literally burn myself out quickly, so I slowed it the hell down.  Miles 2 and 3 clocked in around 9:15, where I stopped at each aid station to fill er up with ice.  It was only 3 miles into this marathon and I knew a run/walk strategy was the only way to play it.  I saw Ken at an out and back and figured he was about 10 minutes ahead of me.  I saw Skye Moench, the female overall winner, looking like she was absolutely dying (To be fair, she was on loop 3 and I was on loop 1).  It was already brutal.  I shelfed my ego, and that pithy 11:30 goal, and immediately revised it to a sub 12 goal - which would require a 4:28 marathon.  We were on to 10:00 miles.  I can do this.  I managed just as such for the first ten miles - using my extremely well honed Ironman 3:1 run/walk.  I would run 100 paces with my right foot, my left foot, both feet, then walk 100 paces.  So scientific (note the pink font).  And realistically, you can laugh, but it worked.  I had something to think about something to focus on, and at every aid station, I would stuff ice wherever I could stand it, and grab a quick piece of fruit or gatorade (the stuff tasted terrible but I know it was the only thing at the aid

stations with salt, which was key.  There were no electrolytes on course and the pretzels were inedible and "lightly salted" which was a total bummer.  Note that I own my lack of training with electrolytes and not bringing any with me - this would have likely been helpful, but when youre 9 hours into a race, you have to think on your feet and make the best decisions in the moment). 

I made many quick friends on the course - again, even though i was dying, I was still having a blast and in the "Ironman, baby!" frame of mind.  I taught my strategy to may people who said I looked so strong - but couldn't keep a run buddy to save my soul, as they would fade out.  I saw Ken at mile 7, who was havign a struggle bus of a day, but as the amazing friend he is, after I hung with him for a few minutes, he told me to go get it and nail that sub 12.  I saw my friend "kiss ass" from the bike, who was just ahead of me and we exchanged high fives.  I saw so many people out on the course pacing runners via bike or running - (which is totally illegal and annoying but I stayed in my own lane - I couldn't control how they raced).  I joked with people, and laughed.  It was still awesome.  

With my run/walk, I hit the half marathon point in 2:10, right on pace to do what I wanted to.  YASSSS.  I also looked down at my shoe at this point and saw a big red mark by my baby toe where somehow I had started bleeding.  Well, we can del with that in a few hours.  SMH.  At this point, I passed a bunch of spectators (Iowa is friggin awesome) and asked to borrow a lawn chair and a beer.  They laughed and I asked one guy with a phone what the temp was.  He told me it was 98 degrees.  Holy WTF.  This was ridiculous.  I laughed ironically to myself, thinking how I had trained for this crap back in September for St. George, where we got a damned bomb cyclone instead.  Here we were, in the midwest - no bomb cyclone, just runnin' with the devil in the middle of a the surface of the sun.  It was definitely a day to remember!

The second half of the marathon was tough, as they always are.  The twist here was some of the aid stations had run out of ice.  WTF.  This was absolutely a killer - I hate to complain, but there was no way to cool down, and my pace dipped.  I hit the jackpot at mile 16 and stuffed so much ice down my bra that I went from a B cup to a D cup (do I know how to work it or what).  Just past the aid station, some guy was asking for ice as he missed it, and I offered him my boob ice somewhat sheepishly - as in, uh, buddy, this might be gross, but.... his face lit up and I gave him a big handful and we had a good laugh about it.  He made a joking comment about my ass at this point, which I don't really remember, but it was funny to two delirious athletes, so we let it go.  The back half continued muc like that - I ran with a woman for awhile trying to place 3rd in her AG for 50-54 (she did) who's husband was riding next to her blasting Def Leppard.  We joked around about classic rock and I think I impressed him with my knowledge, but I eventually moved on.  About mile 20 I made a friend who was hecling runners with a can of beer and four letter words - we exchanged some playful sarcastic banter and he asked for my number.  When I replied "536" he snorted, dropped his beer, and I was off.  I ran with local Qt2 coach Dave Zimmet for awhile, who was a lap ahead of me and validated my assessment of our time goals for this course - at this point I had ditched the notion of a sub 12, and was aiming just to PR (which was a 12:50 on the butt flat course of Maryland, in the 65 degree cool).  With 5k to go, I realized I could probably shake out to about a 12:20, and made that my goal.  I paced it wel and didn't rush, enjoying my run/walk strategy and smiling big, which, once I hit the final stretch of downtown, brought huge cheers - these people were excellent!!

The nature of the run course was that you had to pass the finish line twice, as it was a three looper.  While I wasn't wild about this the first two laps, the third lap....I got to turn left instead of turning around.  And I could see it.  The finish line.  It was still daylight (this has never happened for me) and the Ironman path was there in all its glory, with the finish line in sight.  I saw people cheering.  Mike Reilly's voice was getting louder.  And as I got closer, I felt shivers and choked up, big happy emotions and tears coming to my eyes.  This was it.  I had made it.  The day had been long and hard, but also

amazingly fun.  The months of training, the years since my last Ironman that had been such a downer....they were all behind me.  The finish line came closer and I heard Mike Reilly say, for the third time, "Rae Glaser, you are an Ironman" and my smile got bigger as I flew across the line with a time of 12:18:06, a 32 minute PR and almost 2 hours faster than my last Ironman.

My marathon time was a 4:46, which was way off of what I had projected, but with the carnage on the course (people were passing out left and right, throwing up on the side of the road, and I later found out there was a 16% DNF rate), I was absolutely pleased with my execution.  I got my medal, found "Kiss ass" who was actually in my age group (WHY do they not body mark any more) and had beaten me by 11 minutes and placed 6th in our AG.  Wait - what??  I almost placed??  (I later found I out I held fifth place for a portion of the run, which is wild!)  She and I chatted briefly, and she was in super bad shape, so I flagged medical for her).  I got my morning bag and saw a slew of texts from my amazing friends who had tracked me all day, and called Greg, bursting into happy tears as he congratulated me on my epic day.

I was on top of the world.  A ball of emotions.  What a day.  What a race!  And baby...I was BACK.  While I missed my time goal, I can't for one second be upset about it due to the day, and knew in my heart I would have smashed 12 hours if we hadn't been racing in the middle of a heat advisory (Oh, did I forget that part??)  I hung around post race and watched Ryan (another Rochestarian) and Ken finish - we looked at the grub (which, for an Ironman sponsored by beef had....veggie burgers??) and  walked back to the hotel to shower and collect our gear.

I was such a happy girl.  THIS is what I came for.  And.....on the phone, Greg gave me a little nugget....I placed 7th in my AG.  Shook out to top 20% of women overall, and top 25% of the field.  Holy shit.    According to some sleuthing, there were 3 slots for Kona allocated to my AG, and 3 women already had slots.  Did this mean....I could hardly believe it.  And while I'd never been to awards before, according to Greg, Ken, and Dave....this was the time to go.  So what happened?  Well, stay tuned :-P

IMDSM Bike: Right Now

With the swim behind us, it was time to bike!  This was really it, guys. The "I Ching" of my Ironman experience.  The damned bike.  As many of you know, I have a really complicated relationship with my bike.  Unlike most triathletes, who ADORE the bike portion, it's always been a source of anxiety for me.  I'm not sure if it's tied to the fact that I never really rode bikes as a kid, am not that coordinated, or have some serious imposter syndrome when it comes to my ability as an athlete, but the bike has always cowed me.  

I have written ad nauseum about my bike struggles (a few giggles on my inner thoughts while riding and ridiculous prep time here).  Since last year, I have improved so much - I FINALLY learned to ride in aero and actually don't have a pit in the feeling of my stomach everytime its time to "mount up".  With that being said, there were fifteen years of anxiety behind me - and in my three Ironmans, I had never made it through the bike portion without a crash (twice in Lake Placid due to bottle launches) or a significant stop for food and drink (whats a bottle hand off?).  Of note, the last Ironman I did in Placid resulted in the fervent attempt to throw my bike away and never, ever, get back into sport again.  It was real.

As I've talked about many times, this didn't happen, thank God.  I met my first coach and one of my best friends who talked me over the horse, and a slew of other athletes that helped me get the hell over myself, along with a TON of physical and mental work that's helped me in the past four years to actually become somewhat of a cyclist (stop laughing, people).  Still.  This was it.  The last 140.6 left me terrified on the bike and the biggest desire ever to just never...again.  I knew, in my heart, this would not be rectified without another go at Ironman.  The time was now.  Right Now.  Time to turn this thing around, as Van Halen would say.

With that knowledge in mind, I ran the half mile to T1 and got ready to do the thing!  I grabbed my bike bag, changed out, lubed up, and grabbed my bike, running the additional quarter mile to the mount line (this was the longest T1 ever known to man, logging in at .72 miles, and I accomplished it in 9 minutes with the switch out of gear and turning on electronics, which was a HUGE win!

Bike: 6:01 (18.75 mph)

My goal for the bike split was 6 hours, with a super secret goal being a 5:59.  My previous

best at the distance was a 6:26 on the butt flat of Cambridge, Maryland.  This course was billed as "rolling" with 4400 feet elevation gain.  During our preview of the course, and riding it on Rouvy (virtually), Ken and I noticed that the first 60 miles was rolling uphill, with a few serious punches, and moreso downhill on the second half, with a few kickers at mile 82 and mile 98.  The direction of the wind and intensity would play a huge factor, as it was wide open to wind and would affect major portions of the course, with its box like nature (that's what she said) - you were pretty much going in one direction for a really long period of time.  The forecast called for such that the tailwind would be in our favor in the beginning, which was both a blessing and a curse - more tailwind while climbing, but more headwind while tired.  

The motto being - it is what it is - lets go get it done!  I mounted my bike and zoomed outta T1 with a big grin on my face - the first five miles or so were pretty flat and in a secluded area with no cars (the course was mostly open to traffic, which was a bone of contention, but again, what could you do about it - nothing).  I expected to fly for the first five miles or so and was averaging about 19.5, but I made the quick decision to go based off of feel as - you guessed it - my power meter was on the futz.  This thing is the most finicky PM on the planet - I had had issues with it for the past week, and trying to be good, put in a new battery (Duracell!) and recalibrated it, no dice.  I was averaging 32 watts while climbing and 332 while going flat, which, if you know, is complete bullshit.  My FTP is 215 and I was hoping to average about 155NP for the course, but I quickly realized my PM was only for decoration (apparently I hit 11,000 watts at one point in the course, which might mean I was climbing Everest and also was Blu, but whatevs).  Ahem.  That aside meant little if you aren't a triathlete, so lets just go with I had to listen to my body and had the bike time, average speed and current speed at my disposal.  Again, we roll with it.

The first forty miles of the bike were a total party.  I leap frogged with a bunch of people, including a girl with a kiss print on the butt of her tri kit (I jokingly asked if she was telling me to kiss her ass - she smiled but was a little bit serious, and we had some major foreshadowing there), a bunch of super friendly Iowans (Iowa nice is a thing!) and a guy in a Wattie kit.  I was feeling amazing - fueling well, drinking water, and at mile 40 I hit a new racing win and managed my first bottle hand off ever - I was rocking a between the bars aero water set up and managed to take a bottle, pour it in to my bottle one handed, and fling it within the trash drop area all within 30 seconds WHILE riding.  Holy shit, I'm a beast!!  At that point in time I was riding with "Iowa" (I have such great names for these people) and we celebrated my victory that any normal triathlete should know how to do perfectly well was momentous!  

I was having SUCH a good time, you guys.  I stretched out in aero for most of the ride, sat up for the bigger climbs, took in the scenery, and burned no matches.  I was having such a wonderful day, and remembered WHY I loved this sport so damned much.  At mile 50, we entered Madison County (yes, of the famed "Bridges of Madison County") and here we encountered a few "punch you in the face" climbs, the beautiful smell of cows (blech) and a little rainstorm!  Apparently, the fun had actually begun.  Miles 55-70 were a bit low for me, I got grumpy and worked through it with some solid food (some bar with caffeine in it that tasted like hell but worked).  The wind turned into a crosswind then a headwind, so I tucked in and spun out.  I hit mile 56 at 2:59 and felt like the pace was manageable, and continued spinning at a comfortable pace.

At about mile 70 I felt much better (another successful bottle hand off and a wonderful hit of salt with a slim Jim) and was starting to enjoy life again! This lasted until the sun came out full force and I also realized that while my new (as of this year) bike saddle was super comfy for up to 4 hours outside was um....no longer comfy.  To walk a fine line of TMI, the nose was far too long and my sensitive parts were not happy with life.  I found a decent position but had to stand and stretch every once in awhile, and the road bumps were...less than kind.  

At mile 82, there was a friggin mountain to climb.  I had enough energy in the tank to spin up that beast, but I saw a few bikers walking it and felt bad for them.  I was in the midst of congratulating my controlled effort (never, ever congratulate decisions made 6 hours into an Ironman) when I realized that I was almost out of water.  Shit.  There was an aid station at the bottom of the hill, but in the 90 degree heat I had thrown water over my head and not into my bottle.  Shit. 

I knew there was another aid station at mile 92, and luckily, I still had Gatorade Endurance,

though it was warm as hell.  I got a little silly here, guys.  It was in the low 90s and I was running low on everything but my mental game.  My mind began to wander, and as I passed a farm at mile 86 advertising Baby Goat petting, along with two "kids" out front bleating at me, I started giggling and thinking about goat-speak.  That made a quick turn to thinking about those golden retriever videos where they show the goldens talking in silly words like "what the floof is this?" and I kept thinking to myself "Need some heckin' water" or, "we don't need no straw-boozle gels", or "what the floof is up with this heat?"  Despite my obvious lack of sanity, this was hilarious to me and I kept the internal monologue up well past mile 92, where I finally got some water-dizzles.  (For those of you slightly concerned, I was too.  Thank god Ironman didn't know what I was thinking or they might have pulled me off the course and into a loony bin).  

At mile 98, we hit the beef prim segment, where there was a 5 mile TT to see who could race the segment fastest to win a beef package.  (That's what she said).  As we hit the timing mats the guy behind me yelled out "I want me some steak!" and I burst out laughing again.  Everything was funny again, despite the heat and my battered crotch.  Fourteen miles to go!!  (I did not win this segment in case you were curious, but did manage to hit 6th in my age group for the bike, which is a giant win!)

The last half hour of the bike was uneventful, save for the fact that I ran out of water again at mile 107 (I later found out it was already in the mid nineties) and that railroad tracks are horrible things after being on a bike for 6 hours.  I kept an eye on my bike computer and was hoping to squeak in at 5:59, but once we got into the park and had to dodge kids on bicycles (I'm all for open roads but the walkers and kids out were paying no attention and we literally had to dodge them), I knew a sub 6 wasn't gonna happen.  However, my second half of the bike was a 3:02, which is a pretty darn even split for 112 miles, so I was really happy with my decision making and energy expenditure!

 I dismounted at T2, ran my bike into transition, handed it to a volunteer and told them I would appreciate them baby sitting my sweet child for a few hours.  I still, after six hours, loved my bike.  It was a fantastic, amazing 112 mile journey through Iowa, and I was BACK, baby!

Now, it was time do DO THINGS!  7:30 into the race, and we were on to my favorite part - THE RUN! 

IMDSM Pre Race/Swim: Dreams

Oh, guys.  Guys.  Here we are, a little more than a week out from Ironman Des Moines, DSM, CORN, whatever you want to call it.  1000 miles of driving, 140 plus miles of racing, and about 25 hours of sleep over five days...and its all done.  I got home really early last Tuesday morning, and in the business of parenting, wifing, adulting, and catching up on the slew of drama that happened while I was gone (which everyone wisely kept from me - THANK YOU!) I am now just finally sitting down to reflect on the craziness that was Des Moines - Ironman #4.

After nine days, I'm starting to feel "almost" back to normal - I'm still tired and looking forward to low key workouts this week, and while my legs are feeling pretty decent,  I definitely know I raced.  

But...I'm smiling.  And I have stories to tell!  So buckle in, this one will absolutely be long and drawn out - and would we want it any other way??  

Part 1 of 3 is pre-race and the swim.  When I posted last, it was all about the feeling of Ironman - and what I didn't post was what was ACTUALLY going on at that point in time.  So let's back it up, shall we?

As I've blogged about before, my partner in crime for this ride was my buddy Ken - I met Ken back in 2010 when I was training for my first Ironman at Lake Placid.  Since then, we've remained acquaintances, up until 2019 when he came back in my life in a big way to help me set some zooms (I often wonder if this was the precedent for a lot of bad decisions and epic shit three years ago).  I owe a lot of my running confidence to this guy, and we re-tapped into a tri team when Ken, Marcus and I all ventured across the country for 70.3 World's in September, where we solidified the friendship by spending 72 hours in a car, racing in a bomb cyclone, and staying on speaking terms.  We also learned that Ken never has good weather for a race and that anything east of Utah was considered "driveable" for a race.  It's for one of these reasons only that when Ken texted me about an Ironman in Des Moines, Iowa that I said....sign me up baby!

I think I conveniently forgot about the former reason being an issue, but that's a story for later on in this race report.  With the promise of corn, turbines, and the surprisingly NOT flat land of Iowa, we hit submit and got down to training.  Six months later, all systems go, we had booked the air bnb, put in the prep work, and planned to meet at 11pm to make our fifteen hour trek to DSM.  (No one said we were smart.  You should just remember this).

The trip out was uneventful, save for the first song on my ipod that queued up randomly was "Keep on Running" (duly noted).  We spent the 15 hours chatting up about the race, catching up on tri gossip, and cursing out Chicago traffic.  When we finally hit Des Moines and our Air bnb, we hit the first roadblock of our trip - a place that was not cleaned, and looked little like the pictures, smack in the middle of a really rough neighborhood.  We tried to sort it out, and eventually Ken, with his ever sound logic, proposed a back up - on zero hours of sleep, we googled hotels and forked over our credit cards while closing our eyes to a few pricey rooms at the Holiday Inn.  Two tired triathletes that drove overnight and sussed out our first problem of the week solved with little swearing, we cancelled the air bnb (they did graciously refund us) and hit the road for a shake out run on the run course.

Friday we woke in MUCH better spirits, except I somehow had some epic jaw pain (shush).  My upper left cheek was swollen out and I couldn't chew at all on that side, and I have no idea what I did.  Friday passed in a blur of bike recon, pre race swim (where I met a dentist on the beach (I can't make this up) who felt out my mouth and pronounced my issue that I was "just too cute" - thanks buddy)) and check in for the race.  The bike course was a little hillier than we anticipated, but doable.  The swim, also very doable (and I finally got a nice close up of the spit of land we would have to run over, which I affectionately called the "swim dick" due to its phallic shape.)  I am such an adult.  I possibly also took pics of the swim dick and sent it to my husband and tri buddy with the caption "unsolicited swim dick pic" because I'm about twelve.  Why these guys tolerate me, I'll never know.  

I did the swim sans wetsuit, as the ever vigilant race team kept freaking out at  the weather forecast and the possibility of a no wetsuit swim.  I also discovered a giant rip in my wetsuit leg, which brought doubt on the drag factor of said wetsuit, leaving me scrambling around the hotel room scrounging for electrical tape I had just unpacked four hours before, a tearful call to Greg, and pronouncement that this just screwed my swim time by at least a half hour.  Epic meltdown #1 - in the books.  Thank god for that man.

The rest of Friday and Saturday passed in a haze of carbs when I could eat them, a shit ton of ibuprofen, and the lack of ability to lay down for more than a half hour.  I was so ready to go.  The kids down the hall in town for a softball league also organized an impromptu flag football game right outside my window at 8pm the night before the race (I cannot make this up).

Needless to say, I was so ready to go at 2:50am race morning when I woke up for the seventeenth time. 

I blasted Van Halen's " Dreams" as I prepped for the day, working through some deep breathing.

Never Losing Sight

Spread Your Wings

We'll Get Higher...and Higher

...

Cause thats what dreams are made of 

I checked and double checked my gear, ate a bagel, read the wonderful notes my kids wrote me, and when Ken knocked on the door at 3:30 I left all the negativity behind.  For the first time in days, my mouth didn't hurt.  I was ready to go.  This is what I came for.  Time to leave behind Placid 2018.  It was my day.  I could feel it!

We arrived at transition about 4:30 and loaded our bikes with our nutrition and set devices.  The lack of lights in the massive field left a lot to be desired, but I was done with negativity.  The water was 74.5 - wetsuit legal.  The daytime high called for 96 degrees and headwinds from mile 60 on of the bike.  What's to be done about that?  RACE, baby.  This is IRONMAN.

Ken and I hung out for an hour or so and let go of our tension, then he lined up with the zoomy swimmers sub 1:00 and I lined up with the 1:10-1:20 pack.  My goal time for the swim was 1:10-1:15 but with this busted wetsuit I was having second doubts (I am an idiot).  I made some small talk and got a high five from Mike Reilly and was ready to rock it!

Right before I went down the ramp, Snow's "Informer" came on the speakers and I started to laugh.  Back in 2008, when I ran my first Marathon, my mp3 player got stuck on repeat at mile 2 - and I spent 24 miles during a 95 degree day listening to....you guessed it.....Informer.  While this might be a good song, I can't friggin stand it to this day, and as luck would have it, spent the first leg of the race repeating it to myself.  But to my nervous pre Ironman state, the comic relief worked, and without further adieu, I stood before the wonderful volunteer who counted down 5,4, 3, 2, 1.....and I was off!!

Swim Time: 1:13:45 (1:45/100)

The swim, as noted before, was a two looper - you swam a mile, got out, ran over a dick spit of land, ran back in the water, swam another mile, came back for sloppy seconds to run over land again and then swam a half mile to the finish.  While I was initially dubious about that much of a....hump...during an Ironman swim, it actually wasn't too bad.  I found my rhythm really quickly in the first loop, got smacked around a bit, but not terribly.  I ended up using my goggles from serpent the week before that epically broke a minute before the gun went off (that's a fun story) but re threaded other goggles elastic.  It worked.  I got out after a mile, ran over the phallus, and dolphin dived back in.  Loop two started out well, then my chip began to slide off.  NO.  I reached for it and half assed secured it.  Worked for awhile. 

Swim Dick.  Note we had to run over this twice - Ironman has already had the wisdom to delete the evidence and the 70.3 course is up now

 Most of loop two I tried to find feet with little success, and just focused on even breathing.  It felt easy, and wonderful, and I barely burned any energy during the swim.  As I went to climb out for phallus run #2, my chip fell off and I secured that sucker back on - timing chips are important!  The last half mile was actually the most contact part of the while swim - I got beaned in the head by one aggressive dude three times before I dropped to the side and accidentally in purpose grabbed his feet.  All hard feelings forgotten, I breathed deep, increased my flutter kick, peed (You know you wanted to know that) and was out of the water with a grin on my face in 1:13!

I was really happy with the swim time, good for an Ironman two minute PR.  I might have been able to go faster, but had a ton of energy in the tank, which was the point.  I found some sidewalk, let the wetsuit strippers do their thing (I didn't stutter, and my stripper was kind of cute, but flatly refused the gel I was grasping as payment - oh well.  Win some lose some).

With said proffered gel rejected, I slammed it as I ran the half mile to T1 ready to face my ultimate Ironman past nemesis....this bike!

The Road to Ironman - This is What You Came For

There's a race report to write, I know.  I had every intention of wrapping up Silver Serpent, and it'll come sneaking back in shortly.  However, it's one day out from Ironman Des Moines...and my heart is in corn country.  So let's keep it here.

This isn't a blog entry about the trip - we can save that for post race, as it's already been a doozy - littered with the funny, crazy, horrific and everything in between.  Those are fun stories, and I can't wait to tell them.

But right now...this is about tomorrow.  I've gone through quite the journey to toe this line.  For those of you that know me well, you know what this race means to me.  For those of you that don't or are just tuning in, this post from 2018 explains it pretty well - this was the result of the last time I toed the line at a 140.6.  It was an honest assessment from a 13 year tri veteran who...was ready to give it up.  And who bowed out in 2018 and waited to see what 2019 brought.

2019....brought everything.  And, looking back, I can't even fathom what it ended up being.  It started out with an innocent encounter at the Y that threw triathlon right back where it needed to be.  It continued with a group of Sunday runners that forced me to actually look at myself as an athlete (the main player being my Ironman partner in crime in tomorrow's race!).  It saw massive changes in my swimming, biking, running, and launched my race times into something spectacular but even moreso....I fell in love with it again.

2020 was the year for Ironman... but with the world, it wasn't.  For the last two years, epic, amazing experiences have been de rigueur - 70.3s, half marathons, and everything in between.  I set mind blowing PR's.  I placed overall.  Hell, I won a few races.  I went to worlds.  This is all....absolutely crazy to me, the terrified little triathlete who couldn't.

She can now. And as I go in to tomorrow, it's not about if I can.  I KNOW I can.  It's about the journey to get here and what it's meant.  It's about who's been with me, who I've met along the way, who left...and who came back.  And who changed my life forever in the most unexpected ways and through the most unexpected introductions. It taught me to go through life open to new adventure, experiences and people - because you just never, ever know what they will bring.  And it's brought me so damned much.

I never thought this would be my life - and as I've pushed through the final round of training, I've gotten downright nostalgic. I think about the people that have helped me get here - some are the ones that have been my cheerleaders forever, like my amazing husband that has ALWAYS believed in me and 100% sees me as the best version of myself.  Some are brand new people that have come into my life in the past year or three - and have totally reframed how I see myself.  You know who you are, and I absolutely could not do this without you.  I appreciate every single one of you - I couldn't even do justice to naming everyone, but every single one of you will be on my mind during the race tomorrow and I love you all so much.  Some are people that I knew a decade ago and have come back into my life in a weird twist of fate, and I'm so incredibly grateful that you just never know how life will work out and that I'm lucky enough that you've come back into mine.

So tomorrow...is the big dance.  It's about the day, of course.  I have some pretty ambitious goals on tap and given the right conditions and execution of the race, it'll happen.  I'm open to anything and know that the day will bring so many things - both epic moments and moments that require a solid fix it strategy and strong mental game.  The course has its challenges.  There have been (many) last minute snafus and nothing will go perfectly.  

I'm ready.  Baby, this is what I came for.  Ironman DSM, let's dance!

Ironman Block #6 - In the Meantime

It seems really hard to believe, but here we are.  The final countdown.  (Note that would have also made a good title).  This is the wrap up of block #6 of my 2022 Ironman training....the final block of build, which was a standard 3 week block that's now moved into a two week taper to the big dance, coming to you in nine short days (holy shit!) on June 12.

I'm sort of at a loss of how to blog this one, so we will go for the standard navel gazing crap I favor.  (As if you thought I would ever revert to anything different).

It's funny, this final build was not what I expected (also a theme for this whole Ironman training!)  I started off week #1 with an early week build to a crap race (See Fly by Night race report).  I wasn't inherently bothered by the crap race, as the conditions were rough and I was in no way training for speed, so I moved on pretty quickly, chalking it up to a fun experience and a wake up call to sort out my bikes di2 issues for the big race!  Which thankfully, were taken care of early on in week #2 of this block - apparently the wheel swap to race wheels messed with the limiters of the shifting mechanism, causing it to auto shift down to protect the bike (if you understood that, I've got a cookie and a kudos for you) - basically, in English, the shifting got too close for comfort to the bike, so it saved the stress by adjusting downward.  Great for internal safety, not great for a former masher who is trying to get out of the habit!

The good news is, we have *hopefully* sorted that so my bike works just fine, which means I'll have to work a lot harder to prepare some good excuses for a shit bike split.  No worries, I have hours at DSM to think about it, so you know I'll come up with something special.

Week #2 was pretty uneventful in terms of physical build - I nailed a long ride of 5 hours and hit my longest run at 22 miles.  The run surprised me - I have actually had amazing luck at these 20 mile plus runs.  My nutrition feels right, the distance is doable, and I find that I enjoy them.  It occurred to me that the last time I ran 22 miles was during my last marathon - in 2019- and it was wild to think about all that has happened since.  I thought, more than once during this week and in week 3, about how "the next time I hit this distance, I'll be in Des Moines" and honestly got downright sentimental about the whole process of the training and the journey of it.

Week #3 brought much of the same, with a successful long run, swimming the Ironman distance (in 1:06, a time I would absolutely kill for) and successful bike nutrition.  The biggest snafu in week #3

came in with my one brush with a shit driver during the process, where I was run off a country road and ended up in a ditch.  Note that I bike on Lake Rd 99% of the time and the drivers are EXCELLENT - I have a Garmin varia that has a bright light and alerts me when cars are coming - I bike to the far right in the shoulder and am a very careful biker in traffic (to put it nicely) so this was straight up an aggressive, shitty person.  I managed to get their plate and called it in, which does little on paper but flags them as an aggressive driver.  Ill admit that I cashed in that ride and rode long on the trainer the next day, but went back out to nail a tempo ride later that week - gotta get back on the horse!  This was truly a one off, and while it pissed me off majorly that day, it reminded me that obstacles are the nature of the beast and overcoming them, especially in long course, is the name of the game.  On the plus side, I managed a ridiculously fast 10 mile run off the bike fueled by rage, so that's a plus (though not one I'd like to repeat!)

With a successful final block, I rounded out the last day with a sixteen mile run that I enjoyed immensely, a nice open water swim, a recovery bike, and a BBQ and drinks with friends.  Monday started my taper and it still seems surreal that I'm here, nine days out from racing 140.6.

Ironman training isn't sexy.  Its not flashy.  Its the steady build of workout upon workout, day after day -  every morning, getting up and doing it all over again.  Of the constant miles.  Of the residual fatigue from yesterday, and pressing on from it. Of dusting it off, taking a deep breath, and continuing the long haul.  Of the tired days, the sore legs, and the balance of this insane hobby around the more important things in life.  

This time around was....bigger than most.  It was the culmination of six months since I pressed "submit" on the sign up button on acvtive.com.  But really more...of a year since I toed the line at Eagleman and the seed was re-planted.  But even more so....of three years since I had the courage to attempt another Ironman (when optimistic me signed up for Ironman Mt. Tremblant 2020). But honestly....of four years....since 2018 Lake Placid, when I almost threw my bike at a volunteer coming into T2 and vowed never to ride it again.  All toward one goal. The rebirth.  Can I do it? I'm certainly going to give it everything I have on June 12th.

How do I feel?  Right now, a mix of grateful and disbelief.  I cant believe the process is almost over - it doesn't seem real.  And while I have 9 days for the taper crazies to kick in (they will) right now I just feel incredibly grateful.  That my body lets me do this, that I have so many wonderful supportive people in my life that are helping me get to this goal.  You know who you are.  And if you don't, I certainly will be letting you know this, as I tend to get even more introspective and sappy during taper.  I'm gonna make it weird, folks.