The Boston Marathon: This is the Beginning

Oh Boston.  Boston.

Its  two weeks later, and I'm finally ready to sit down and write about it.  For those of you that are friends with me in person or on social media, you know the highlights of how this one played out.  It was absolutely nothing that I expected it to be.

And it was absolutely everything I needed it to be.

This race report is going to be a little bit different - because I can't do it justice in the traditional format.  Boston was, hands down, the hardest physical race I have ever done.  And mentally and emotionally - the easiest.  This is not a story about how I nailed a PR, executed a negative split, or raced to my athletic "potential".  It's a story about how somehow - the universe gives you exactly what you need, when you need it most.  It's a story for - when you look for the good stuff - you find it.  It's a story about beginnings.  Intrigued?  Let's go!

A few years back, I was talking to a fellow triathlete about an ungodly ridiculous race I did in a bomb cyclone and he looked at me and said - ya know - its funny.  Most people wish for the best conditions....me?  I like my races to be memorable.  Weather = memorable.  And I thought he was nuts (Note - I still kinda do, but since I actively am still friends with him, we can infer a few things about me LOL).  I never understood truly what he meant until this race.  

As we know, I went into Boston with a LOT of physical and mental baggage.  Training wasn't what it needed to be, and I knew it.  And life was a complete mess.  Of course, you know me.  In those stormy situations you can either bitch or dance in the rain, and armed with my poncho, running supplies and a few awesome friends, I chose the latter.

I knew going into the weekend a PR was a long shot (sub 3:30) but promised my coach I would race smart and give it my best.  Our crew - Dave, Eric and myself - left the Roc Saturday morning and ventured to Boston.  I've run with Dave "dumpster fire" many times, and Eric was a new friend.  Eric was injured, Dave was gunning for a PR, and I was....along for the ride.  And what a damned ride.  As we became best friends over road snacks, podcasts and poop jokes, a few things were evident - this weekend was like nothing I had ever experienced.  It was vegan Thai food and too much walking.  It was Eric's obsession with women's clothing and products (completely by accident, but when you have four daughters....).  It was full of laughs, "that's what she said" and my uterus falling out (whoops).  It was a crap ton of coffee, not enough water and dancing in the streets.  It was....not about the race. And that was oddly enough - perfectly fine.

The day before, as Dave and I shook our booties in watermelon and moo shorts, and as I gazed out at the Charles river post shake out run - I knew the weekend meant something.  In the hotel room, when there was nothing left to do but scroll social media and see all the AMAZING messages I got from people.... that I never expected....I felt....so damned grateful.  And on a random Instagram send, the song "This is the Beginning" by Ely Eira came up - I'd never heard it, and the lyrics gave me chills:

Been dreamin for so long

Said we'll make em all come true

Now our stories just about to be told

This is the beginning 

I played it for the boys, and Eric looked at me and said....ya know....tomorrow is all about the unknown for me, too.  Nothing was what I expected.  And this is why we do it....We don't know what kind of ending we are gonna have.

Holy shit.  I felt that.  And race morning - when the temps were predicted to hit the 70s, I smiled.  When the trek to the busses was over an hour long....I smiled.  I wore my Brockport hoodie I have had since 2001 that allowed me to reconnect to my past (hey there buddy!), and smiled.  I listened to "This is the Beginning" on repeat - and knew - this was going to be a day. A day I would never forget.

At bag drop off, I met my new best friend, Tammy from Wisconsin.  We immediately bonded, and then boarded the bus to meet our second newest best friend...Julie from North Carolina, who we immediately dubbed "Super Girl" for reasons.  We partied to Hopkinton with the 12 J's on the bus who made us laugh for over an hour.  And with my new best friends, we braved the athlete village and insane wait for the porta potties until the "Smurf" (blue) wave was called.  It was already 70 out and my shoe was rubbing my baby toe.  I didn't care.  Oh, I was smiling.  This was BOSTON!  

I headed to the start with Super Girl and we smiled the whole way.  Before I knew it - we were OFF!  As my corral surged to the start, I saw the iconic "Boston start line" painted on the ground and holy shit guys - I lost it.  I cried.  I could not believe that I was actually HERE.  It was so surreal.

The race plan called for a smart 16 miles around marathon pace - 7:45 - then to tackle the hills wisely and race the last 5k.

Know what?  Fuck the race plan.  So sorry mean dude.  You did awesome, and I love you so much.  But I FINALLY understood why - you dont race Boston.  Not for the day we had, and honestly, not for the day I needed.  BY the 6 mile mark, I knew my legs did not have what they needed to PR.  And....did a 3:29 matter?  Nope.  Did a 3:45 matter?  Also, no.  So....I did a weird thing.  I threw a party.  Oh hell, did I throw a party.

I took a beer the frat boys offered me at mile 11 and immediatly shot gunned it.

I kissed a Wellsley girl at mile 12.5 - and I liked it (Yes, that's only a Katy Perry reference, but she was, in fact, a decent kisser - don't worry, I still like boys LOL)

I threw up said beer at mile 14.

I high fived Sponge Bob and a Taco.

I danced with Tigger and Big Bird.

I powered up with every kid, took every popsicle, shared my boob ice, and at every single town, cheered with the crowd.

I took walk breaks as needed, but I ran ALL the way up Heartbreak hill.  Over the past year and a half - running up this hill felt damned poetic. Take THAT!

And at mile 24, when I saw the sign that welcomed up to Boston, I lost my shit.  I got so emotional, I couldn't breathe and had to stop.  A cheer squad asked me if I was ok and I replied - I'm fucking here.  I am here.  And I cant believe this.  And with big ugly beautiful tears streaming down my face, I ran toward the finish.

It was poetic.  My legs hurt.  I was in more physical pain than I can ever remember.  But I never....wanted it to end.  I have never done a race where I wasn't actively seeking the finish line, but this was it.

And then....I turned left onto Boyslton. And there it was.  The finish line.  And I got chills.  I choked up.  I couldn't even fathom that this freaking non athletic chubby kid - was here.  It wasn't an easy one and done.  Back in 2008, when I did my first marathon....I never dreamed of this.  Of this big beautiful beast of a unicorn.  Holy SHIT.  It was here.  And I looked around.  And I knew no one - which I always thought would be a bummer, and one of my Kona reasons.

  But....it wasn't about that.  And I knew....I would never forget that moment.  Of running across that beautiful blue and yellow finish line and looking at the guy next to me who spoke not a word of English, and we enveloped in the biggest hug anyways.  Of  crossing to the athlete village and immediately calling my ten year old to tell him I loved him SO DAMNED much.  Rob wanted to be there so badly - and he wore mom's jacket to school that day, and he is....without a doubt....one of my biggest "whys".  Of calling my best friend and sobbing to her about how I fucking DID Boston.

I don't remember most of the rest of it.  For those that know "Athletic Rae" there were questions - because this wasn't the race to look at the finish time.  Of my mile splits.  Or heart rate.  My heart was bursting.  And it had nothing to do with the heat, the hills or my time.  As I looked down at my beautiful jersey, full of the love from my family and friends - I felt it in my heart that this was the beginning of something so darned beautiful.  And I was so damned grateful to have the experience.

Post race was full of all the normal shenanigans - beer, all you can eat hibachi, skeeball and left coast doctors....along with the promise of all the "maybe" post race :).  And even though none of us could walk, it didn't matter.  None of us had the race we expected, but we all had the weekend we needed.

Boston, you have my heart.  Will I be back?  I have no idea.  But I have no regrets, and you gave me exactly what I needed - the fire and ice (well, about that) and the excitement of what the future holds.

What does that mean?  I have absolutely no idea, and I still don't.  But whatever it is, it's gonna be epic.  This IS the beginning.

Boston: More than a Feeling

 Hey y'all! It's been a crazy minute, hasn't it?  Well, I promise I haven't forgotten the blogg-o, but damn.  I'll be real.  It's been a year.  If someone could remind me that joking about a mid life crisis at 35 was a REALLY BAD idea, that would be great.  Cause when 40 hits....it basically says....hold my beer. Yep, it's like that.

But it's a little different this year. Actually, it's much different than 2023.  Here's your 20 second catch up of 2024 - It was alright, it got bad, it got real bad, and now, oddly enough, we are rebounding.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  And boy, is it fucking gorgeous.

The last 18 months have taught me two main things - that life never, ever goes as you plan, and that, at the end of the day - you can either look for the windows, or the brick walls.

Wait, what?  I didn't stutter.  Many of you know I'm a giant book nerd.  Years ago, I read a short story that has always stuck with me....

 It was about two men in hospice - they shared a room, and were bed ridden and could barely lift their heads.  One was in a bed by the door, and the other man that had the bed further away from the door would tell the man by the door about everything going on outside the room through the window he saw.  He would chatter about the sunshine, the kids playing, and the amazing sights.  The man by the door was really bitter about this - he wanted to be able to see this great view.  Eventually, the man that told the stories of outside passed away, and the man by the door waited a few days then asked the nurses if he could move to the vacant bed.  They complied, and the next morning, with great effort, the man lifted his head to look outside and saw....a blank wall.  Confused, he asked the nurse what happened to the window - and the nurse replied - there has never been a window in this room.  And the man, even more confused, spoke about all the sights the man that had died shared with him.  The nurse looked at the man and said....that man that shared all that with you....he was blind. 

Wow.  I've thought about that story quite a bit this year, and it reminds me of two things - that you never know what someone else has going on - and most importantly - if you look for a wall, there will be one.  If you look for a window....you will find one.

And the past few months - have been about windows. I leave for Boston this morning.  I have been dreaming about this race for over a decade - and when I qualified in November 2022 at Philly - I was over the moon. It was a total dream come true.  I had zero idea the trajectory my life would take in the next year and a half. Honestly, in the last 17 months...I have fallen down so many times and wasn't sure I could recover.

I did. I qualified for Kona.  I didn't go.  And after that, I threw all my energy at Boston.  It was a redemption.  It was a rebirth.  And it was...a window.  A badly needed window.  I was SO gonna do this race with the biggest PR ever!

As life would have it, a few months ago, life intervened and plans changed.  Massively. And in midst of all of the mess, I had a choice.  What to do about Boston.  Not going was never a choice - I promised myself that- but my aggressive goal was.  And really, in the last few months...year....I've really stepped back to think about that stuff.  I don't regret a single decision I've made or path I've taken, but when life happens....you can either see the walls or the windows. And you adjust accordingly.   (and for all of you that have Lil John in your head, you're welcome.  Me too)

This time - I saw the window.  And while my training through this mess has been mediocre at best for a

PR, that's honestly not the point.  The point is - to embrace the experience. To be so damned grateful for it.  My travel plans changed once, twice, three times - and I am now going with two amazing people that have picked me up, pointed me in the right direction, and are taking care of every. single. detail.  I just have to pay my way and show up...and run.  They both know Boston and are taking this rookie under their wing.  There will be insanity.  There will be beer.  There will be laughing.  It's a dumpster fire.  And its the perfect way to do Boston.

I ditched my running singlet and with the help of the people I love best - will be running with all your names on my shirt.  I threw out my playlist and took in suggestions from the best people that flooded me with songs that mean something to them.  I listened to every single one and I felt all the emotions that they were sent with them.  Thank you. Truly.  I know I have a piece of your heart. I already love everything about this race - and I'm not even there yet!

I'm sure I'll get even sappier as I toe the line at Hopkinton and see Boylston.  As I see the iconic start and toe the line with the world's best.  Its a dream come true.

But it's not about that.  Its about the last year and a half and all of those angels that got me there.  Its about those people that you meet on your path.  When you fall, and they pick you up.  When they look at you and say - or prove - they got you.  And even though the last year and a half has been absolutely mind boggling - I am one of the luckiest people in the world.  And I wake up every day knowing it - seeing those windows. Of  all of the exciting things that are ahead.  And being so fucking grateful for all of you.

I can't even name everyone, but I'm gonna try.  To the French fry gang - QVC, Those People, Swimmer Dude and Ham Bro.  You guys picked me up when I needed it most, and I will never forget it.  Ever.  8 minutes.  To Mean Dude - dude, I'm sorry I gave you that name - but for the last 16 months, you have done nothing but believe the best in me - and I cannot wait to do you proud.  To Zeus - you got me started.  And I'll never forget it. To my Renegade - five years ago, it was about piggy backs.  And you still carry me as one of the best friends I could ask for.   To Ken - you are my best bad decision maker.  I'll get back to you about November.  And every other amazing bad choice we have made!!  To my Y swim crew - Bear, Cat Woman, Kris, Mike, and my favorite speedo boys - you guys are the best.  I still can't swim but thank goodness we don't need to do that Monday - save a spot for me in the hot tub next week!!  To 1:20 - Thanks for believing in me when I didn't - and I can't wait for those "recovery runs" when I get back!  To cruise - You're ok.  And when life hands me lemons, I am so glad I have a lemon tree!!  To my dumpster crew - you helped me qualify and you've put up with my shit ever since.  And I'll never forget it.  

To my amaazing kiddos - Rob and Biz - you always are so great about when Mom runs, and I LOVE our buddy runs and Mom and me recovery - whether its the boots, a bubble bath, or ice cream!  And as always, to my rocket booster.  It's not what I thought it would be.  Far from it.  But at the end of the day - you still are there for me, and you always will be.  It just looks a little different than we thought.  But it's still our adventure.

To the many friends I haven't named but have checked on me, tossed a joke my way, run miles with me, or in some way shown your love - I haven't forgotten it.  And I never, ever will. 

Thank you all.  You have no idea.  But you have my love, and my heart, and I'm gonna go do BOSTON STRONG on Monday for every single one of you!!  Bib is 18486 - Boston.  April 15th.  10:52 start time.  LETS GO!!!!

2023 Year In Review: Stand

I'm a little late to this one - but with the way 2023 shook out, we needed to make sure of a few things - first, that the damned year actually ended, and then, to take a few deep breaths to process it.  

Maybe more than a few.  I think its de rigeur to look back at the past year and think - wow.  What the hell.  I know I did it looking back at 2022, and as I look back at that year, I had some amazing highs and lows that I thought 2023 couldn't even come close to the magnitude of.

Hold my beer, said 2023.  And as I read through my recap of 2022, at the lessons learned, I smiled, teared up and thought - if only you knew what the next year would bring.  If only - you knew.  The lines I penned one year ago: 

Going into 2023, I've reminded myself to keep my head up, and my mind open - as you absolutely never know who or what is going to make a difference in your life. Or what that might look like.

That was so damned spot on, I never would have guessed.  There are some people that I grew with from 2022.  Some that I left in 2022.  Some of them that left last year - came back.  And some in full force - ones I never expected.  And some people that showed up in 2023 that I never would have imagined have found a deep spot in my heart. You just never know what path your life is going to take.

And this year,  the people that showed up in my life - saved it.  2023, without a doubt, has been the wildest ride I have ever been on - I accomplished things I never dreamed I would, and was brought to the lowest of lows by life at the same time.  There have been many days where I wasn't sure I was going to make it, to be honest.  By by the grace of some amazing people, and a sheer stubborn will, I did.  And when I look back - this was a year of growth.  A year of pain and tears.  And a year to realize that I am so much stronger than I ever could have imagined.  

And as always, there were lessons.  Lessons that I never thought I would have to face.  In 2023 I learned...

You can't have it all.  This was such a hard lesson to learn.  Five years ago, I sat down and made a choice. I didn't like where I was at in life with respect to sport, or, quite honestly, how I saw myself.  I had just finished Ironman Lake Placid and was disenchanted with triathlon and my general fear of everything.  It was bad.  So I sat down and made some intentions for 2019 - big, scary goals if you will.  For the past four years, I've gone out of my comfort zone, put myself in situations I had no business being in with respect to racing and training partners (that's my perspective) and as a whole, adapted the "Why not" mentality.  As in - fuck it - lets give this a shot.  And done so, without barriers or reservations.

It's gotten me to places I've never dreamed.  This year alone, I qualified for Kona, Taupo (World's 70.3) and another Boston Qualifier for 2025.  I've had so many amazing people help me along the way - friends, awesome coaches, and teammates.  I never would have expected any of it.  And the trip has been amazing. Incredibly hard, but absolutely, mind-blowingly, amazing. 

And while 2023 was another year of epic feats, I learned a really hard lesson - that you can't have it all.  That the balancing act I tri - ed for (See what I did there, and now the blog makes sense) epically failed.  Because you can't always keep the balance.  And riding high on athletic success cost me dearly this year, even though I went at it with the best of intentions - and with the best idea of how to balance it all.  

Everything in life is about he delicate pendulum (oh, the irony).  There is a season, turn, turn turn.  And while I can't regret the choices I made at the time, if I could go back, I might do it differently. But I can't.  So I'll write the next part of the story a different way, with what I've learned.  I'm still excited for Boston 2024 - don't get me wrong. That is going to be one. epic. day.  But I've had to really take a look at how I'm choosing to do things with the resources I have - be it time, money, relationships, mental health, you name it.

What You see on the Outside...is not the full picture.  I know everyone was shocked when I opted out of racing Kona - and the love from my support crew.....was real. Of supporters I didn't even know I had.  One of the things I heard over and over again was - you seem to have all your shit together.  We had no idea.  And bythe way..... we....don't either.  September, October and November flattened me.  Flattened.  There were so many days when I doubted that I would make it to the next one.  But an odd thing happened during this low time - people that I never thought would be part of my story - became part of my story. And I became part of theirs.  Whether it was sharing their own struggles or showing their support to me during my darkest days in ways I never imagined, I was able to see sides of people that I never knew existed.  And find solace.  And at the same time - be honest and real about the parts of me that people don't see every day.  It's with that kind of grace that I know that no matter what 2024 brings - it will be okay.  And the people that saw me....and allowed me to see the real, vulnerable parts of them - will be okay. We are in this together. 

Everything and Everyone Happens for a Reason.  This lesson tends to follow me from year to year, and I always leave it in - because its such a double edged sword.  There are things that happened this year that were absolutely amazing - people that came back into my life, new people that showed up along the way, and events I never dreamed would be a reality.  Sitting at the awards banquet at Ironman Texas and hearing my name called for a Kona slot was - indescribable.  Wearing the lei put on my by Ironman deeming me eligible to compete at that world level on Ironman's biggest stage......unbelieveable.  I will never forget it.  And while life had a different plan in mind for the actual event - I know, in my heart of hearts, that I will qualify again.  And when I do, it will be right.  But the journey - was indescribable.  And the same thing with the people I've met along the way this year.  Some of them left - some are in a much different capacity than I ever thought they would be.  It's been really hard, embracing the change and knowing what I can and can not control.  But that leads me to my last lesson....

You are stronger than you think. I always knew I was stubborn.  And that I had a lot of will.  But never until this year did I know....what I'm made of.  And how very damned much I can handle.  Whether its a 5am swim, a 7 hour brick, a sprint to max for the last two miles of a 140.6.....or picking myself up off the ground after life flattened me..... again....I got back up.  Every. Time.  And I know, going into 2024, that no matter what life throws at me, I can do this.  

Back in 2008, when I toed the line of my first Half Ironman (Musselman!), I found solace in a song that re-played in my head for the next 6 and a half hours.  I was still relatively new to the sport, and the idea that I was playing at being an athlete - let alone an event with the word "Iron" in it - was absolutely unfathomable.  As I swam, rode and ran, the words of a Rascal Flatts song played in my head....

When push comes to shove, you taste what you're made of,

You might bend till you break

Cause its all you can take

On your knees, you look up, decide you've had enough

You get mad, you get strong, wipe your hands, shake it off, 

Then You Stand. 

Fifteen years later - it still holds true.  And with 2023 behind me, I can't be thankful enough.  For the lessons, for the perseverance, for the friends.  For those amazing people - my QVC, Dumpster, Safety Tights and Older Sister.  For PC and the Bear.  For Cruise, for Will, for Too Tall.  For my Ham Bro.  And for Mean Dude, Renegade and Zeus.  (Does anyone have a real name any more??)  There are so many more.  But I will never, ever forget what you did for me this year.  And as we go into 2024, I can only hope that I can be there for these wonderful angels even a fraction of how much they helped me in 2023.  

Over and out, 2023.  And on to 2024 - to a new year full of adventure, friendships, and love. A year to knock my socks off.   Let's do this!

Hartford Marathon 2023: I'll be There for You

And, with that, the 2023 season is officially over.  It's without a doubt, not the way I thought it would close out, but the last year....two years....four years..... have taught me that "PIVOT" is a real way of living and that while it hasn't been my day, week, month or even my year, I probably should have paid closer attention to Friends when I was in college (am I dating myself here?) - because really - it probably taught me all I need to know.

Hence the theme of this race report.  On to Hartford.

When we last left the story, I threw down my Kona announcement and even though it was incredibly hard, the love you guys showed me was something I will NEVER forget.  Armed with that, a little "fuck it" attitude, and one great friend that makes equally idiot decisions (thought he opted for the half marathon, so really, who's the idiot here) and we were headed for HARTFORD!

The day before the race, we met up in Victor (Ryan lives in PA, so this was a total gold friend move - he drove 16 hours total - and raced 13 - to hang with me for 48 hours.) and headed east.  We passed the five...ok....six...hours on I-90 by catching up, eating bad snacks, and talking race goals and 2024 goals.  Ryan had zero expectation for his half, as he hasn't been running long, and I had no idea what to expect.  We got into talking about speedwork and fast 200's, and I confided that my speed sucked and that I couldn't even break 1:30 in a 200.  He looked at me like I was an idiot (is this news, people) and I'll admit, it took a good few minutes of going back and forth to realize I meant 400s, not 200s - whoops! (a 1:30 200 is a 12:00 minute mile).  Math.  With that, the new goal became to break 1:30 for 109 repeats of 200 yards in the marathon! (Which would be a 5 hour plus race.  For perspective).

Without much fuss, we got our bibs (I am so serious) and checked into the hotel.  Pre race dinner was some sort of Teriyaki noodle dish, not enough water, and peanut butter cups for dessert.  What could possibly go wrong?

I legit had no goals for this race - but the peanut gallery (Greg, Mean Dude and Ryan) all had some insight and they all predicted a PR, which freaked me out.  Mean Dude advised just respecting the distance but using my fitness.  (I did not listen to either of these - spoiler alert.  It's important to note that Mean Dude did NOT coach this race - he is much smarter than what I did).

I gave up on goals - they were stupid.  Tossed and turned and race morning, ate a dry bagel, threw on some gear, added my Kona flowers, and headed out!  Parking was a dream - we got a spot not only close to bag drop but right next to Dunkin.  I got some coffee, we hung out in the car, and I told Ryan I wasn't sure I wanted to wake up...errr....warm up.  (Actual slip or truth?  Who knows).  Grudgingly, we did.  My body honestly felt like hell - I'm not sure if it was the drive or the crap nutrition, but my back hurt, breathing was off, and a 9 minute mile felt like crap.  This was gonna be FUN!  Of course, I treated pre race like a dedicated athlete  by dancing around like an idiot to "Jump Around" - prompting Ryan to throw down that he wanted to see the same dance in 4 hours, lol.  Done.  Before I knew it, we hit the portos one last time and headed to the start.  

Or....that was the 5k start!  SHIT!  (Friendly reminder - read the damned athlete guide).  The half and full start was about half a mile down the road in the OPPOSITE direction, so I raced toward it and made the start about 10 seconds before the gun went off (this was probably foreshadowing right here).  Before I knew it (literally) we were OFF!

Miles 1-10 went by rather well - I was holding 7:30-7:40/mi pace, which was admittedly a tad rich, but I decided on option "C" with this race - to go out like an idiot and see what happened (otherwise known as the FAFO methos - fuck around and find out....stay tuned!)   My loose A goal was to PR (PR 3:30) but I was totally fine if that didn't happen.  My legs felt pretty good, but I noticed right off the bat any slight uphill hurt my back and was way harder than it needed to be breathing wise.  I was also hungry earlier than normal  - I usually take in a gel every 5 miles but was ready at mile 3 and 7.  The aid stations were spaced nicely, but mostly on the right side, so I had to either reach over or shift my handheld - both first world problems, but caused a dropped cup and the handheld to slip off more than once.  Mile 10 hit in 1:17, which I knew was too fast, but hey, we weren't here to make great choices, right?

Miles 11-16 were also pretty uneventful - hit the halfway mark in 1:40 (WAY THE HELL TOO FAST
RAE) and still felt pretty good.  I met a fellow racer on the same pace and we chatted for a bit but i was honestly in true introspective mode, so I fell silent.  As I ran, I thought about a lot of things - the past year, both the good and the bad, Kona, and also about where I have some as a person and athlete.  One of my friends had loaded me up with songs and some of them hit so deep, I admit, I teared up.  Typical marathon stuff?  Nope.  But this was defintely not a typical day.

I stopped for water about mile 16 - the aid station was set up weird and I wasn't able to grab and go on teh fly.  This was a REALLY bad decision - as I started running again, every muscle in my lower body locked up.  Oh hell,  this was not good.  I slowed and did a few leg swings, but my quads and hamstrings would not cooperate.  I suffered through a few more miles until I hit the rutnaround, and then admitted defeat.  

The next 8 miles were absolute death.  I was thirsty, but I couldn't drink.  I was hungry, but I couldn't eat.  The candy stop at mile 20 did not work - I couldnt get it down.  The coke and mile 22 did not work.  I watched my pace slip from low 8s to high 9s and one 10:00/mile.  I was cooked.  I listened to Eminems "You Don't Know" on repeat - which was ironic, because I DID know, and this was very much so the ending of the "Fuck around....and find out" phase.  Did I go out too hard?  Probably.  Did I make idiot decisions the day before regarding nutrition and driving?  Yep.  I will say - I have never been in so much damned pain - not at Philly, not during any Ironman, and not during any ultras I have run.  Every step was agony.  I did not have anything.

Evidence to the fact that my last 10k took 58 minutes.  My half splits?  1:40/1:56.  Yikes.  Through sheer grit and idiocy, I made it to the finish line (did I have a choice??) in 3:36, for a an 8:12 pace, dumbly enough, a BQ for 2025, and a lot of freaking pain.  (Though I ABSOLUTELY killed those 200s on the 1:30 mark - LOL).

Know what, though?  I regret none of it.  I sent Mean Dude an update and admitted I raced like a moron.  Did my post race dance for Ryan.  Ate a greasy burger, a lot of chocolate, and when I couldn't walk later (my knee was so mad for what I did - but thankfully, it was much better Sunday) Ryan went out and brought me chicken nuggies for dinner.  What a dude.

The weekend was a total success.  It got my mind off Kona, I raced a fun new race, hung out with a good friend, and got away for a little bit.  I'm super grateful for everyone that helped me get through the day with awesome cheering and supportive messages - for Greg for watching our crazy bunch back home, and for Ryan who made the trek with me.  You guys are awesome.

What next?  A little off season, baby, before we kick off Boston training!  The post race week was pretty interesting, and if I can get my shiz together, I'll write another post on that.  

Thats a stretch.  When have I ever had my shiz together?? LOL

You Gotta Have Heart

As I hit "publish" on the Kona post, a million emotions went through my head.  Sadness. Heartbreak. Relief at being able to share.  And a sense of trepidation - as to what the response would be.

You guys.  I am crying.  And I have been crying off and on since yesterday.  They aren't the tears I have shed in the last week - the last month - or the last year.  They are tears of someone who feels so incredibly loved and supported.  I cant thank you enough. Truly.

The loving texts and messages poured in yesterday - both from people who have been experiencing a similar year of struggle and doubt - and from people that reminded me that they have my back, no matter what I need.  Anytime. Always.

From my mother in law.  From my athletes.  From my coach. From my best friend.  From my running and triathlon buddies that I have known for years.  From my family. From the triathlete I met in JUNE - THIS YEAR.  From the runner I met LAST WEEK.  Reminding me that - I mean something to them.  That - I have been there for them (even when I had absolutely no idea - and was just being me).  From a woman I met twice - 3 years ago - and have not seen since that told me "I always thought your life was so amazing.  I never knew....that you struggled too".  From several fellow parent athletes who relayed their struggles to balance parenting and sports.  

There was not one single "Rae, its Kona.  WTF are you doing.  GO. You're an idiot".  

You guys.  I love you.  I love you so damned much.  And, as I read through every message with tears in my eyes, I feel so incredibly cared for and loved and I had no idea....that existed. I screenshot.....every single one.  To save, always. To remember that when life hits hard...I have people that care.

It gives me strength. And courage.  And in a year where that has been in very short supply, this means more....than you'll ever know.

As most people understood, I only scratched the surface in that last post.  There's a whole "under the iceberg" to this part of life right now that has been so incredibly hard to carry.  But with the help of so darn many of you, it feels a little more manageable.

It's been a hard month.  A hard week - watching all of the Kona emails come in, seeing my bib number (1286, baby) and knowing that Saturday will be really, really tough.

So a few weeks ago, I did what I do best - and made lemons out of lemonade. When something happens - all the power you have is in how you react. While a trip to Hawaii isn't feasible right now....a day and a half...was.  I had no desire to sit at home Saturday and moan about this, sadly watching the Kona coverage.  I also knew I had to do SOMETHING with my training.  So with the help of the internet, a consult of the 36 states I have left to run a marathon in to hit my "50 state goal", and a few handy "dumb decision" friends, we found a winner.

And in the vein of being oddly fitting, a place to go find my heart....errrr..."hart".

This Saturday, I'll be tackling state #16 in Hartford, Connecticut by running the Hartford Marathon.  I'm armed with road snacks, bad music, and the aid of a friend that I can call and say "hey - wanna run a race this weekend in the middle of nowhere?" and the answer is, "HELL YEAH!"

We all need those friends.

And I am so lucky to have those in spades.

The outcome isn't important.  At all.  It'll be a weekend of laughs, of tears, and of looking up around
me, being grateful for what I have, what I can do, and the people beside me. 

I won't forget what happened when I was at my lowest.  

You were there.  

And now, while I go find me....I know I have all the support and the love in the world.  Thank you.  So damned much.  All of you. 

The Gambler- An Update on Kona

 

Oh, friends.  I've been sitting on this post for awhile, but its time. Time to come clean.

This is possibly...one of the toughest posts I've ever written.  And it's fitting with 2023, which has been, without a doubt, one of the toughest years of my life.  You see me on here in a form of balance - I've always promised to be honest with you, whether its killin' it on the race course with a win, a "Q" or a PR - or on the days when life is tough and hands you a shit sandwich.

My 40th year on this planet has absolutely been one of those years.  A year of incredible accomplishments - some amazing PR's, a Boston Qualifying Marathon, and a Kona Qualifying Ironman. Epic new friendships and amazing experiences. 

It's also been a year of incredible lows, that have left me crying in a corner, sobbing through a run, or sitting on my best friend's couch, working our way through chocolate and wine. 

It's not the balance I had in mind, but it's life.  And it's real.  And I know that whatever the outcome of this stage in my life is - that I'm strong enough to handle it.  Even if it doesn't feel that way right now.

It's hard to share life when you aren't killin' it.  Yesterday, I had a talk with a new athlete and we got into social media - how what you share isn't real.  How its covered with a layer of shine.  I...don't do that, but I do cover it with a layer of humor that works equally well as a defense mechanism.

And if you dig through the humor, especially in the last month, you'll see the truth.  I've been flat. I've been struggling.  I've been going through the motions of heading toward the finish line for the biggest race of my life.  I've hit the numbers, and I've completed 95% of the metrics mean dude sends to me.

But a few weeks ago, I realized that...a huge piece was missing.  I'm not injured - my body is still going.  But its not going well, because I'm missing a much bigger piece. My heart - is not there.  My brain- is not there.  Where I am in life right now - its not a time to go to Hawaii for ten days to finish a 140.6.  

And that's the distinction with a race like this. It's not a race to "finish" - to go through the motions. When you get to mile 90 on the bike, and you're in the middle of a lava field, and its a million degrees out - your legs will want to quit.  And you need to find a way to keep them going.  With your mind.  And your heart. When you look at the finish line - especially the iconic end of a race you've been eyeing with longing for 18 years like a kid in a candy store - knowing that Ali'i drive is right now....just a road...why go?  Not for a race like this.

I remember the last half mile of the Philly marathon so well.  The tears in my eyes as I knew I was going to hit a BQ.  And the last mile of the Ironman at Texas - the emotion was just so incredibly real.  I wanted to be there. Those were....amazing days. I won't forget them.  And for months ahead of time, for both races -  while up at 4am, on the trainer, or in the freezing cold - I saw those moments.  I saw my loved ones at the finish line, waiting for me.  I saw the medal.  I saw the dream. I knew what I wanted and I threw my whole heart, body and soul into those races.

I don't see that right now.  And, along with a lot of life things going on - that made my choice.  I can't do that for Kona.  Not this race. This race means too damned much to just be "a race".

It's heartbreaking, and I am sad.  But I know I made the right choice.  And since the moment I made this decision four weeks ago....I haven't doubted it once.  I made it as an athlete.  As a person.  As a mom.  And as a family member.  On every level - it was right.  Even though it hurts - in my heart, I know it was right. 

In the past five years, I have learned so many lessons about life and this sport. After Lake Placid 2018, I sat down and thought really hard about what I wanted out of myself as an athlete (check it out). I had hit rock bottom and knew I needed to make some changes.

And the one line that jumped out at me that 2018 Rae wrote was this....

Because I am afraid.  I am afraid of speed on the Keene descent.  I'm afraid of not holding the brakes in aero.  And I sat myself into a huge nutritional hole because I am afraid to eat a clif bar on the fly.

If 2018 Rae triathlete could see 2023 Rae triathlete....she would never believe it.  In the past five years, I've learned to throw caution to the wind.  I've learned to run fast, and with people I have "no business running with".  I've learned to love my bike and be comfortable - in aero - one handed, and yes, flying downhill at 50 mph. (I haven't learned to swim, but hey, everyone needs goals).  I learned...to jump in and take a chance.  To go for it and give it my all.  And the rewards on the race course - and the friendships I have made off the course - are immeasurable. And I am so damned grateful for all of them. 

And maybe this was the final lesson.  To learn when to call the audible. I never thought it would be for Kona, but then again, when do we expect life lessons.  That's what they are there for. They aren't easy.

But it's different this time.  I don't have the doubt for myself as a person or as an athlete.  I KNOW that I can qualify again, and I will.  When the time is right.  I'll be back.  With my whole heart, body and soul.  I'll be back.  And with the grace and love of the people closest to me who have been absolute angels through this difficult chapter - I'll get through it.  I love you guys so damned much. You have no idea. You know who you are.

Everything in life is somewhat of a gamble.  You gotta know when to hold 'em.  When to fold 'em. 

This time - it was time to walk away.  (Probably also time to run - you can roll your eyes now, it's okay). 

But I'll be back.  And next time - it'll be right.  And the comeback....it's gonna be spectacular.

Right now - it's time to take life as it is.  To step back, and re-affirm that balance.  It's not always easy, but I know it'll be worth it.  Thank you guys.  For your support.  For believing in me.  And for being there.  You'll never know....how much it means to me.  Truly. 

So whats next?  Well, you know that I'm not the type of girl to just throw down without something in my back pocket.  I'm off to find my heart.  And this weekend, I'll be on that path.  Stay tuned. 

Roc Tri 2023: Take it All

Well hey there!  It seems 2023 is the summer I can really only pull it together to write older than they should be race reports (my bad). So, as standard for this year, here comes your race that happened two weeks ago that I feel is bad karma not to write before I race (again) tomorrow!  Popular question - How do I handle racing so much late summer?  I wish I had a good answer, but its a mix of free entries and bad decision making, which probably defines me in a nutshell.  Whoops.  Without further pre amble, lets talk about the last race on August 26th - the Roc tri!

I have some pretty decent history with this race - our local tri team, RATs (Rochester Area Triathletes) have put this race on since 2011 (ish?)  I used to race it back in the day, then took a hiatus until 2021, when the new, prez, Mike, twisted my arm.  This is a familiar story.  I managed to finagle a win out of 2022's race, which bought my free entry to 2023 for the sprint distance, which happened to be the State Championships.

Cool story, bro.  Enter this year, the year of Ironman (that sounds so much better than the other terms I could assign 2023), when I have zero business entering a Sprint tri, let alone a State Championship.  So, as always, I decided to "race for fun".  (I'm twisted).  A few weeks pre race, Mike texted me asking me if I wanted to be in the open division or the open division.  Like an idiot, I said...open...uh...what's open?  Turns out, it was elite, winner take all division, no AG group awards.  Well that sounds silly.  Count me in!

Race week, of course, was filled with intelligence stupidity.  As I'm in the middle of build, right off of Sunday's Peasantman race, I did a 100 mile ride and 16 mile run.  My coach gave me the day off on the Roc tri race day, which was a much wiser course than I had planned he begrudgingly adjusted when I told him I was a moron.  Oh this poor mean dude. 

I was flyin' solo for this race - so race morning, after what was now considered sleeping in until 4:30, I headed out to play with some of my very best friends! (This was such an amazing 20 minute drive LOL).

Pre Race was filled with the standard shenanigans - watching the sunrise with my amazing friend Bear (it was our one year anniversary - this woman has been just the most wonderful friend to me since I met her last year and is my swim buddy 2-3 mornings a week!), making stupid bets with my friend Joe (which I technically won - pro tip - if you're gonna bet who will have the faster time, make sure you're running the same race LOL) and adhering to Mike D.'s strict transition standards (yep, I thought he was going in for the hug.  Nope, he was forcibly moving me OUT of transition.  My bad.)   My amazing neighbor and run bestie showed up to support me - I LOVE YOU GUYS!.  As usual, I spent the two hours pre race socializing, and taking zero seriousness about the upcoming race.  I'll never change, and I don't want to.

Before I knew it, we were in the swim corral - the women pulling Charlie's Angels poses, and the men laughing at us - and it was TIME TO ROC!

Swim: 14:25 - 1:45/100

The swim was in Lake Ontario, and parallel to the shore, out and back.  It was an in water start - and so the men and women open all headed out to wait for the gun.  We joked about the waves (they were decent) and our sprinting prowess, or lack thereof, as a few of us were focused on long course.  My friend Jamie compared me to Taylor Knibb with my awkwardness prowess at all distances - and god love that man, he's a good liar, but that stuck with me during the race and made me smile!  

The gun sounded - and we were OFF!  This was actually a pretty rough swim, and I was really glad I knew how to bilaterally breathe - the shape of the swim meant breathing to the right on the way out was breathing into a wave, which was rough.  I swam consistently, albeit slowly (my friend Darren swears he walked by me once, which is probably accurate. Ouch).  Regardless, I burned no matches during the swim, and was out of the water and into T2 in fourteen minutes, good for second woman (WHAT) - my neighbor yelled out my placement as I so seriously wiggled my butt at her and headed out with my bike!

Bike: 36:02 - 20.2 mi/hr

 The bike course for this race is a two looper for the sprint, with two lollipops, rolling hills, and one decent climb.  I fumbled my bike mount like the idiot I am perfected my flying mount, and was off!  My primary competition (and the most amazing, sweet woman, so you can't hate) Bethany passed me a mile in, and I had to remind myself that this race was for FUN and I was not to do idiotic things until the run.  I love this bike course - you can see everyone on it, and I biked consistently and at tempo pace, waving and having a great time - probably not the red lining you are supposed to do in a race, but screw it.  My bike, however, was not pleased with me - its been acting up again lately (I suspect the poor guy is just tired) so I struggled with shifting a lot, which was not ideal.  However, as I always say, in a race you see problems and handle them as best you can.  The bike had a few gears that it "preferred" (e.g. did not make protest sounds in) so I stuck with those, focused on consistent effort, and was back into T2 before i knew it!  My split was about 2 minutes slower than 2022, which was disappointing, but I understood it - I have done almost zero speed in 2023, and that's what that brings!

Run: 22:16 - 7:11/mi

T2 was WILD.  1st, 2nd and 3rd place women were all in T2 at the same time - Abbey, Bethany and myself, and heading out into the run, we were separated by about 100 yards. (I actually ran the whole run with one braid cockeyed out of my cupcke visor - I had zero time in T2 if I wanted to hang!)  NUTS.  I had promised Dave I would be good until mile 2 of the run, and I broke that promise right off the bat.  I knew Bath was a much stronger runner than me, and had zero idea about Abby.  I had resigned myself to not winning this race awhile ago, but again, I remembered my coach's words - you never know what race someone is having ahead of you - and so I made the decision right off the bat to ignore my watch, ignore my pace, ignore my HR, and try to keep these two fasties in my sight as long as possible!

About a mile in, Beth passed Abby, and shortly after, so did I.  I kept my eyes forward and was back about 5 seconds as we headed to the turnaround, and cheered her on (this woman is amazing),  and stayed on her heels.  At mile 2, I made the pass, and tried like hell to hold on.  I had zero idea how fast I  was going, but this hurt like hell, and I literally could hear the breathing behind me, knowing I had no time to consider the hurt I was in.  About mile 2.5, we hit grass to go around transition, and the spectators went wild - this was a crazy women's race!  Beth passed me back, and I had no give, and let her go.  As we hit pavement, I was dying inside - but I knew that the next 3 minutes would pass, regardless of what I did, and dug deep.  At mile 2.9, I passed her back, and gave it absolutely everything I had to hold on, breaking the tape and winning the race by 3. freaking, seconds, for a time of 1:15:37. 

POST RACE

HOLY SHIT.  What just happened??  As I broke the tape (I have never done this before) I had the biggest smile on my face, and then my body reminded me that I just did really stupid shit, and I kept walking to find a private place to die.  My neighbor followed me (I love this woman to pieces), as she was so excited and had zero idea what was coming next - when I promptly hunched over and threw up (I am so classy).  I gave her a thumbs up to let her know I was okay, and once my body calmed down, laughed about my post win shenanigans, knowing that I really freaking left it all out on the course!!

After that, the party started again!  I thanked my amazing neighbors and my run bestie Laura for being awesome cheerleaders, caught up with my fellow athletes, and waited for awards.

Oh yeah, and that heavyweight belt we all posed with last year? Well, this year I got my very own.  I'd like to say I will wear this forever, but apparently it was made for 8 year old's.  Well played, Biz :-P

The Roc tri, as always, was a great race and I had an amazing time!  I set a new sprint PR (really, I should learn to race these) and while i walked away with some lessons learned, I am ridiculously happy with the race and have never, ever, been part of such a crazy battle for the win!  On to Finger Lakes tri - our last hometown race before the BIG DANCE in Hawaii!