A happy ending after all: Miles on the Mohawk 10M Race Report

Let this be a lesson to myself in case I hadn't already learned it: the races that I go into with no expectations are ALWAYS the best. Today I ran a 10 mile PR, and I'm confident that if the race had been a half marathon that I'd have a 13.1 PR as well - I ran a smooth, strong, consistent race with some of the most even splits I've ever seen out of myself...oh, and did I mention that I didn't taper and hiked 25 miles during the past week, including 9 miles the day before the race? Because, YUP, that just happened.

Some back story: back in the wintertime Joy got an email about this new race going on in New York, which we thought would be a fun racecation weekend/vaccination celebration - which, with Massachusetts announcing it was fully open on May 29, it really turned out to be! I had decided that the half was going to be my goal race before we signed up for this, so it was always kind of a fun run/cherry on top of the weekend in my mind from the start. I won't recap the entire trip in too much detail here, but suffice it to say it was a TON of fun, and not at all the sort of activities that I'd plan on doing before a race that I cared about, lol. The weather turned out to be absolute trash with rain every single day, but we somehow made the most of the dry periods and saw a ridiculous number of sights including a run in downtown Albany, several waterfalls and state parks, several breweries, and an absolutely ridiculous 9 mile hike on Saturday which included rain, a porcupine sighting, ledgy cliff walks, and having to ford a river about 30 ft upstream of a 200 ft waterfall! We also didn't eat any snacks during our 4 hour hike and then went to a brewery immediately afterwards (we did consume 3 pizzas at the brewery, so that's a better example of prerace behavior lol).

My legs had felt pretty terrible all week, as Andrew and I had been hiking up in the Whites on Monday and Tuesday and the first hike of the year always just annihilates my quads and calves. I had legit DOMS until Wednesday, and then my legs continued to feel just fatigued and achy. By the time our hike on Saturday rolled around I was finally feeling a bit better, but still figured that the lingering fatigue of the week was not going to have a positive impact on my race. We didn't get back to our air bnb until like 8 pm on Saturday night and tried to figure out the logistics of the next morning. The 10 mile was a point to point, but we had to stop by the finish line to pick up our bibs (we missed all the pre-race pickup opportunities because of hiking and breweries...oops but also no regrets) and then Andrew would drive us ~2 miles from the start so that we could warm up.  I ended up eating MORE pizza at 11 pm because I suddenly realized I was hungry and we hadn't eaten lunch. We watched the Bruins win game 1 of their series, the first full game in the Garden since COVID, which was absolutely electric - I actually got chills watching - and then headed to bed.

Race morning we needed to pack up the Air BnB, and in between I downed some kona cola nuun and ate a banana, and then munched on a bagel in the car. We were all a little stressed about getting our bibs on time but it turned out to be totally smooth. The weather was ridiculous at 48 and cloudy, but as you know if you've read anything on this blog before, I was HERE for it. Needing a throwaway shirt on May 30? HELL YES! It had been in the 80s the past week in Boston so it really felt delightful. 

Our drive to the start worked out fabulously - we happened to drive by an aid station that not only had porta potties, but was almost exactly 2 miles from the 10M start. After using the facilities we waited in the car for a bit before setting off down the bike path towards the start. I was really thinking about how nice it would be to just do a chill long run at this point - I definitely wasn't nervous, but was more just like wow I don't FEEL like running fast right now. Jogging along sounded really nice at the moment. We got to the starting area, where the porta potty lines were atrocious (apparently the people who were supposed to come and open the indoor bathrooms at the historic site where we started never showed up), so as per usual I wound up nature peeing in an extremely awkward area off the road...pretty sure there was poison ivy in the vicinity but I don't appear to have been afflicted, so yay for that! We headed back to the starting area and surveyed the scene; there were some definitely fast looking girls around including a contingent from Central Park Track Club who appeared ready to roll (and they did! So fast!) As we shuffled into the corral I realized that I had forgotten my mask in the bushes! Derp...even though masks literally aren't required anywhere outdoors anymore, we were still supposed to be wearing them in the starting area sooo I was standing there awkwardly with my singled pulled up over my mouth, as if that was doing anything. It really added to the overall awkwardness of my vibe. But it was just so much fun being in a starting corral with Joy again! 

We were lined up in rows of 8 that moved up and started about every 15 seconds, and soon enough we were on the line and off! It was an interesting difference in feeling from two weeks ago - then, I was just SO giddy and happy to be out there. Today I was again, really happy to be out there, but in more of an emotional way. Something about the songs on my playlist and the rush of being out here again, starting off at 6:45 pace and seeing how long I could hold it, starting a race just feeling relaxed and free, felt totally magical. I found myself tearing up at least 3 times in the first 2 miles which is just silliness, but it was what it was. Happily at the outset my legs felt fine, not like let's go balls to the wall amazing, but not concerning in any way.

The first mile was down a nice gentle downhill street, and then we turned onto the bike path which essentially made up the rest of the course. The course was really lovely - net downhill, but with enough flat sections and inclines to make it still feel honest and the bike path was really pretty! Once we were on the path, after making a few quick passes I latched on to a girl in a maroon lululemon tank top and an older guy in knee socks and gloves. My first couple of miles had clocked in around 6:45, and while I was pretty sure the downhill had helped me out a bit I was feeling relaxed and smooth, and so just tried to get into rhythm behind maroon girl as she seemed to be on a similar plane as me pace-wise. The bike path was quite pretty, and I just tried to let myself groove along, aiming not to work too hard in the early miles.

While the temperatures were cool and amazing (maybe low 50s?), it was definitely humid. The race was cupless so I actually had a bottle with me, which was amusing because it made me realize how much I rely on the water stations to dictate my drinking schedule! So, around mile 3 I was kind of like...uh...maybe I should drink? and just took a swig. It was actually kind of a pleasant surprise to just drink from a bottle and not just throw a cup at my face! I continued to stick like glue to maroon tank top girl. After about mile 3, there definitely wasn't the same ease to things as there had been the first few miles. We started encountering some minor inclines which I think woke up the feelings of fatigue in my legs, and while I ended up dropping the pace to around 6:55's, give or take, I definitely felt like I was slowing down more than I actually was. I actively tried not to look at my watch during this race and just kind of ran along by feel. I was passed by a couple of people who came blowing through from behind (I assume people who probably should have been in wave 1 but got stuck in the porta potty line or something).

Around mile 4 or 5, we encountered the end of the marathon runners running in the opposite direction, and because I literally cannot pass up the opportunity to cheer even if it's in the middle of my OWN race, I started yelling and whooping at each runner we passed. The girl in the maroon tank top totally gave me a side eye of confusion but I didn't care - I was cruising along, and those people had like 20 miles to go to my 6 - they deserved some positivity! Joy told me after the race that she had the exact same response and even threw some high fives across the bike path...amazing.

We headed into a more woodsy section, and by this point I was definitely noticing my perceived effort start to increase. Aerobically I felt completely fine (according to my Garmin, my heart rate was only in the 150s which I don't totally believe/almost hope isn't accurate because if true it means I was being LAZY) but my legs were absolutely starting to notice the effort. I eventually broke ahead of maroon tank on an uphill, which boosted my energy a bit, and was still managing to click off 6:55s at halfway. One thing that was really wonderful about the course was that everytime there was an incline, it seemed to be followed by a long/gradual decline, so just when you'd feel like "ugh, this feels hard", you'd have the opportunity to recover a bit. It really kept me in it mentally, and helped me to avoid the trap I think I sometimes fall into where I start to feel tired around 60% into the race and just totally give up. The forested bike path and the weather reminded me so much of all of the tempo runs I did this spring on a stretch of road along the Charles - for some reason, always in the mist or the rain. It just felt so fitting to be doing this race, running that same pace, in such a similar atmosphere, and I laughed a little bit thinking about how I LITERALLY had trained for this specific race. 

I took my Gu at 5.5 with a larger swig of water - totally threw off my flow trying to do all of that at once but I managed to get into rhythm again pretty quickly. I don't really have too much to say about the next couple of miles. I was getting tired, and was sort of sick of putting in the effort, but I kept telling myself that not feeling like putting in the effort wasn't a good reason to stop putting in the effort, so I had to keep doing it. 6:55s were still feeling relatively cruisy (in hindsight, I think I could have raced even FASTER if I'd really been willing to go to the red line in the second half of the race, but I've come to terms with the fact that that's something I have a really hard time doing.) I was telling myself that I could cruise for 2 more miles to 8, and then maybe start trying to pick it up. The fatigue was definitely starting to kick in, though, and "cruising" slowed from 6:55 to 6:57 to 7:05. I'd been trying not to look at my watch, but when I saw the 7:05 split I was like oh, goddamnit. You didn't come this far just to come this far. So I beat back the laziness and the total apathy of my legs (which is probably the best word for it - they weren't like completely donezo or anything, they were just like ugh, but WHY. We are so uninterested in this task right now) and forced myself to hang on.

Luckily, there was a girl in front of me in a black top with a french braid who I had been slowly reeling in, and continuing that process was a welcome mental distraction for the final 2 miles. It had started sprinkling a bit, which actually felt wonderful, and I could practically sense the moment the caffeine and sugar from my Gu kicked in. We came off the bike path and headed up an incline which truly felt like we were getting onto the highway, at which point I managed to pass french braid girl, and then entered by far the most annoying section of the course which consisted of running back and forth through a couple of side streets before the last stretch on the bike path to the finish. I had managed to pick it up to 7 flat for mile 9, and I willed myself to just hang on for one more. One more and I get a goddamn PR out of this ridiculous year and training cycle and whatever. Come on come on come on.

Right after the mile marker we turned up what, again, was not a large hill by any stretch of the imagination but for some reason just made my legs balk, and I could feel my form totally dissolve - hunched trunk, shuffling gait. Nope nope nope. Get up tall, eyes up, you'll go down the hill on the other side. And I did! When we turned downhill I knew there was one more ramp and then flat to the finish, and I was confident that I could finish it out. And then, as I made the turn into the final stretch, it started DOWNPOURING.

I love to run in the rain. I find such a magic to it, and as I ran down this bike path knowing I wasn't holding anything back because I was so close now, it felt like magic. I knew that I had run a strong race, a race I was proud of, and I gave that last half mile everything I had to give (it was a 6:55, which is actually sort of perfect) I motored into the finish in the pouring rain, hands up, with a PR. It wasn't a huge PR, it's not one of those PRs that I think of as a "big one", like the half and the full marathon, but damnit who knows how many PR days you get in your lifetime, and this, in the pouring rain, after a week spent doing things I love no matter the cost to my performance, after this training cycle that I thought was a bust after the half two weeks ago went south, was one of them. 

Maroon girl and sock guy both came in immediately behind me, and we exchanged high fives and pleasantries on a race well run. Upon stopping running it immediately became apparent that this was a COLD rain, and so after grabbing a space blanket I began jogging back up the course to go and find Joy, who showed up not long after and cruised in to finish well under 1:20. We quickly attempted to start cooling down, but realized that our original plan to run to meet Andrew at a park a couple of miles away wasn't going to be feasible because there was no pedestrian way across the river. Soooo mission aborted, and we hung out in a random parking garage while we waited for our amazing chauffeur to come and pick us up. 

We changed in the warm car and headed off towards lunch and beers, and about 10 minutes out I decided to check the official results. I had 100% written off receiving any sort of award as soon as I'd seen the CPTC girls, so imagine my surprise when I discovered I actually was 3rd in my age group! I was a little mad at myself, because I hadn't even thought to check and so missed out on my pint glass award. Just goes to show that I shouldn't write myself off!

I feel like this race report is all over the place, but I will summarize by saying that I really ran a beautiful race. I NEVER run even splits - NEVER - and while today wasn't perfectly even the differential between my fastest and slowest mile was much less than my norm, and I ran the majority of the race right at the pace I ended up running overall. I'm really pleased with the way I hung tough even when the pace didn't feel "good" or "easy", and am extremely surprised with how well my legs were able to cope with the overall fatigue of this week. And I'm just so, so pleased to get my happy ending of this weird training cycle/COVID year - I had such a dream of coming out of the pandemic and proving to myself that I was stronger than ever and that all the work that I'd done in the dark of 2020 would come into the light. And even though it wasn't exactly how I pictured it, it did. Not to mention, I have a newfound confidence in my ability to handle different/more challenging workouts and training weeks than I have in the past, more confidence that sub 7 pace doesn't half to be scary and a half at that pace is just around the bend, and maybe even more importantly, that I can do it without sacrificing the other things I love to do. I have always prided myself on being a runner who loves to run, and wants to train hard and run fast, but is never willing to give up the other things I love to do for the sake of one pursuit. Some might say that that's a negative trait, but I'd argue that the satisfaction I got from running PR under today's circumstances trumps anything that an extra 15 or 20 seconds faster would have given me. It just goes to show what I've always said about myself: my best races never come when I psych myself up, taper, prepare. I want to be that athlete, have that intensity, but at the end of the day, I think I'm my best athletic self when I break free of my own expectations and stop building things up in my mind, and just go out there and freaking run. And if there are weird extenuating circumstances like "25 miles of hiking the week of the race" or "rain" or anything of that sort...well, I guess that's all the better. 

Miles on the Mohawk 10M

1:09:07 (PR)

51/ 635 OA, 13/375 F, 3/51 F30-34

New Boston Half Marathon Race Report

I'm sitting here drinking a beer that I've been saving for my first race back, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping it would be a PR beer too - see last post. But it wasn't to be, and I am OK with that. I'm convinced that the fitness was/is there, the execution was as good as it could be, but too many pieces of the puzzle refused to line up for me today - notably the weather (though I hate to be someone who uses the weather as an excuse on a day that many would consider to be great running weather, but the truth is 60+ degrees and sun just doesn't work for my body to race optimally, and that's all there is to it). And you know what, those racing skills get rusty after a year and a half of disuse! But let me focus on a couple of things I'm really proud of about this race:

- Most importantly, even despite the shitshow that was the second half, I was SO happy to be out there, just doing the thing. I definitely caught myself thinking a few times that feeling this awful and dealing with cramps and missing times was definitely an argument for NOT racing, but honestly I wouldn't trade it for the world. 

- Until the wheels fell off (which is sort of a separate problem), I executed my pacing PERFECTLY. I did not go out too fast - I went out 3 seconds under goal pace, and proceeded to run right at goal pace feeling relaxed and glorious for 6.5 miles. I'm convinced I can run the full distance at this pace one day.

- Despite an overall physical meltdown in the second half, I really managed to stay mentally positive in what might have been a really devastating situation in the past. Rather than beat myself up when things started to break down, I just focused on staying in the mile and trying to problem solve with what I could do to improve the situation. Also, by the last couple of miles, so many things had gone wrong that I actually started to find the whole situation funny, which I can't say I've ever thought before. Like, actually comically bad. So if comically bad for me is a 1:34 half these days, there are certainly worse places to be in fitness.

-I gave my best effort for 98% of the race, even when things were really spiraling down the drain. I had to stop and stretch out my quad several times, and had to walk through a water stop to get down some fluids, but the alternative to doing those things was either slowing down to a jog or dropping out, so I don't view them as moments of weakness as frustrating as they were. I had one moment where I feel like I walked because I was kind of giving up (mile 9 was nothing short of a disaster to the tune of 7:40 lol) but thankfully a girl passing me slapped me on the back and gave me some words of encouragement and snapped me out of it, and I definitely felt like I was able to rally a little bit at the end. 

And as a counterpoint, a couple of things that I'd like to improve on:

- Just...figuring out how to deal with my body's response to "warmth". The race today wasn't hot by any means - I think it was approaching 60 at the start and probably in the mid to high 60s at the finish - and my perception was never really specifically "I'm hot". The problem was that something was off in my electrolyte/fluid situation and once I fall into that hole it's impossible to climb out of. The fact that my dropoff happened really abruptly and dramatically leads me to believe that there was basically a moment when I became dehydrated, and the fact that the water stops were pretty spread out and I wasn't able to get more than a sip from the first two lends to that theory (absolutely not a slight at the race by any means - I totally get having grab from a table vs. volunteers due to COVID). So I'd really love to figure out how to prevent myself from falling into that hole, or at least hold it off a little longer. Can I hydrate more aggressively the morning of the race, or in the days before? Salt tabs? Again, I'm never going to try for a PR in the dead of summer, but it kind of sucks that at the moment I basically have 4, maybe 5 months of the year where I can actually have any shot at racing well and the rest I have to write off due to this problem. 

OK, moving on to the actual race report! This race had a time trial start from 7:30-9, but since we were seeded by pace I was relatively far up in the field and so was assigned a start time in the first wave, 7:35. With an 80 minute drive to the venue, it was an EARLY morning. I was up at 4 am, ate my banana and started in on a can of iced coffee, braided my hair, and got out of there. Thanks to a last minute zipcar change I had to walk about a mile to get to my car, but it was actually quite pleasant - there's something about being out on the way to a race as the sun is coming up, when the streets are totally empty that I just love. The drive was uneventful, I was jamming to my playlist and we can mark down instance #1 when I almost cried for the day while jamming to some of my latest pump up jams, and I made it to Goffstown in perfect time, right at 6:25 which is what had been recommended for me to park. Perfect! I was in desperate need of a porta potty after drinking a full bottle of nuun (still not enough fluids, apparently...) en route and was delighted to find a random porta potty, not associated with the race, in the lot of a car repair shop on the way to the start. Secret porta potties for the WIN! I walked down to the starting area, and here we have instance #2 of me almost crying as I took in the sight of the finish line arch, runners milling around, music blasting through speakers somewhere. There's just something so special about the atmosphere of a race that you can't recreate on your own and I just felt overwhelmed to finally be back in that electricity after so long. 

I picked up my bib and shirt, and then rearranged my bag before heading back towards the course to warm up. I ended up stowing my bag in some trees so I could use the secret porta potty post warmup, which turned out to be the move as the lines were nuts at the real ones by the time I got back to the start. I literally don't remember how to warm up? I figured 15 minutes was sufficient, and if not that was too bad because it was literally all I had time for. I returned to the secret potty, grabbed my stuff, and had barely enough time to change shoes and put my bag in bag check before we were being called to the start!

So obviously mass starts are not a thing right now, but Millennium is just killing it with their system of a time trial start - everything ran super smoothly but still "felt" like a normal race. We stood at our little cones in the starting corral area as announcements were made - Molly Seidel randomly was running this race I think as a workout? Which I thought was pretty cool. I was fiddling around with the laces on my shoes since I've only worn the Endorphin Speeds for a couple of workouts and was still a little nervous about pressure from the lacing. Swinging my legs out a bit and shaking loose. But also just sort of standing there in disbelief...like...I am here in this corral with all of these people, literally the most strangers I've seen in a year and a half, and we are going to do a race, and it's happening, holy shit. And then the national anthem played and I almost cried again! Because of course I did, and I knew I would. Just so much gratitude and joy to even have the opportunity to be here. I closed my eyes and just soaked it in. 

Holy heck and then it was time to race! I had carefully crafted my playlist with a super specific order and so I knew what song I was going to start to: Kesha's "Raising Hell". I really can't wait to see the race photos, because we stood on the line until the little racecar lights turned green, and as I hit play I ran out of the start with a smile on my face, singing along, so. fucking. happy. (I bet in photos this looks totally ridiculous lmao). Now you'd think that this could lead to some stupid behavior, but no, I became a smarter runner during the pandemic, and I actually turned my watch to current pace mode just for the first mile, to make sure I did not go out like an idiot. And IT WORKED! I ran a perfect 6:48 for the opening mile. I was aiming for 6:50 pace overall, so that was beautiful. I felt relaxed, smooth, delightful. One small and extremely stupid wrench in my plan when I realized that the second song that was playing was not, in fact, the song that was supposed to be playing...because I am a DUMB DUMB, and left my specifically curated playlist on SHUFFLE mode. The first of many things that I would laugh at during the race...and probably an omen of things to come.

The course was a lollipop, with the first 5 miles running out, then completing a loop in Goffstown, and then running back on the same road for the last 4 miles. My goal for the entire out section was just to lock into a rhythm and cruise, which was exactly what I did. The course does have the unfortunate feature of running slightly downhill on the out and uphill on the back (like, can we switch that around next year?) but the overall profile didn't have a ton of elevation and I had convinced myself that it wouldn't have a huge impact. I'm still convinced it didn't, really, because there were other fish to fry, but I digress. I was bopping along, happy as could be. Because of the time trial start and seeding, there wasn't a ton of passing to be done, but I actually did mow down 3 or 4 people who'd started ahead of me, which was of course a confidence boost. I felt like I was exerting the perfect level of effort and the pace looked like exactly what I wanted it to be. 6:50, 6:50, 6:51. All systems go. The first water stop came relatively early, and because it required grabbing a cup off a table while moving at 6:50 pace I unfortunately managed to throw most of the water all over myself and get very little into my mouth, but I didn't worry because at this stage we were in the shade and I was feeling just fine. One thing I did notice somewhat (which I think turned out to be a BIG thing) was that the road was significantly slanted towards the left, enough to be noticeable while running. We could only run on the lefthand side of the road, so it wasn't really avoidable, but I think for me it took it's toll in ways I would see shortly.

Anyway, for the moment things were grand, and were about to get even more wonderful, because as I looked off in the distance I saw a couple of people cheering pretty aggressively, one of them holding a sign. Since the majority of "spectators" to this point had mainly been people taking a break from doing yardwork to clap a little bit, this was something new. And then I got closer and damn near burst into tears because I realized it was JOY AND ELISE! I actually clapped my hand over my mouth in the most theatrical gesture and shrieked YOU GUYSSSSS!!! My heart. My friends. That they would come all the way up to this race t the crack of dawn to cheer because they knew it mattered to me - in case you're keeping score at home CRY TIME #4! A guy who'd been running in front of me was kind of chuckling and I gasped "That was a SURPRISE!" to which he laughed "I guessed that" hahaha. I was in the hyperventilating try not to cry breathing stage of life for a couple of minutes, during which I looked down at my watch to see that I'd just run a 6:46, my fastest mile yet. Everything was going SO WELL!

*Spoiler alert: things would stop going so well very, very shortly*

About a half mile later, we turned off the main road and onto some kind of uphill, which was really the first time I'd noticed any sort of effort at all. Which was fine - I chalked it up to "no shit, Sherlock, we're going up hill" and forged ahead. But then the hill...continued. Continued into a stretch of road where there was no shade and the sun felt very hot. "That's OK," I reassured myself, "just get through this stretch, relax, calm down, you'll be fine". (proud of your self talk, self). However, positive self talk didn't mean squat when my left quad all of a sudden decided that it was peacing out of this party, and proceeded to absolutely seize up. Ummm....WTF? My first reaction was actually sort of confused...like, I was literally feeling fine? What is this about? I had taken a Gu at 5 and was definitely hoping for a water stop, but nothing that seemed to precede whatever the hell was happening. And I swear, I've had a lot of races where you take the slow slide down into oblivion, but this felt like I took a flying leap off a cliff and never looked back. All of a sudden, without warning, my body was just done. It was like the quad cramp set off some kind of alarm system where my legs were like "huh, oh no, we all should cramp up too!" and my stomach was like "oh no, I'm not happy either!" and my overall physiology was like "hang on a second, we don't have enough of either water or salt OR BOTH we're NOT SURE" and everything went to shit. Add the fact that I was stumbling down a desolate street with shitty pavement, and the fact that the entire pack of people who started before me and who I had previously passed swallowed me up, and it was not a good time.

I ran for about half a mile in this shambling gait still trying to parse out what the hell was actually going on with my leg before making a decision that deeply frustrated me but I felt was for the best to stop and stretch out my leg. At this point I still had a thought that if I could work out the cramp I could somehow get back into it, especially because that mile (where I literally stopped and stood still for at least 10 seconds) still somehow clocked in as a 7:12. But it soon became apparent that the writing was on the wall. Despite the stretching, despite grabbing water at another stop, the cramp wasn't going away. I had lost all fluidity in my gait and as soon as I saw a 7:2x for mile 8, I knew: I was fucked.

But what could I do? I wasn't going to drop out of my first race back, as appealing as that seemed. I had to try to find a way through it. So first I had to find my way through the nightmare of mile 9, by FAR the worst mile of the race. Checking in with all systems: left quad, still seizing, low back trying to join the party as well. Stomach: not happy! Hydration: poor! Core temperature: above nominal limits! Every little incline felt like a mountain, and once again my stupid left leg reduced me to a walk up one. This was really the place where I almost completely gave up. Thankfully, a girl who started behind me happened to come up on me just then, and gave me a pat on the back and some kind of encouragement. That woke me from my stupor and my little pity party. I could find my way through this; it wasn't going to be what I wanted or what I'd hoped for, but I could problem solve and salvage something of the situation. I started running again; by this point I felt like what I desperately needed was hydration. When I got to the next water stop I made the executive decision to walk through, drinking a full cup of gatorade (or actually I think powerade, which oddly I have never had in a race before? Blue flavor was sort of a nice change from lemon lime lol). This was clearly what I needed, because while I wasn't able to fully reclaim my sub 7 pace of the earlier miles, I really got back into things for miles 10-11, locking my eyes on the back of the girl who'd encouraged me and clicking off some very reasonable 7:1x splits. I had been thinking for a bit about what sort of signal I'd give Joy and Elise when I saw them again, and I think I just gave them a shake of the head and a "disaster!!", hopefully with a little bit of a laugh. It was just so amazing to have friends to look for on the course though, just another thing that kept me going. I took some more water somewhere in there, and then promptly got a side stitch, because, like, of course I did. This was around the time where things began to become comical. We've got leg cramps, nausea, side stitches, dehydration, oh and now my phone is wet and is randomly skipping my music around, there's Gu all over my hands, this is AWESOME, this is what I've been WAITING FOR! 

We hit mile 11 and I was like OK, cool, you can DO THIS, and then my ridiculous leg seized up, again, and I had to walk, again. And thinking back on this now, I wonder, should I have just pushed through? I just feel like when I cramp like that I really...can't? My quad is sore as hell now so I know it was a real thing, but I hate thinking back on how many times I had to actually stop running during this race. Oh well. It happened. And in the actual moment, I was just like, you know what, it's fine, get it under control and get back to it. No pity, no sadness, just like...get through it, deal with it, get to the finish line. There was a lady sitting by mile 12 with a dog that was just cashed out on the ground, and I laughed and pointed and was like..."I wish I was doing that right now". I was gradually starting to reel in a guy who I had passed early and then been passed by, and that was a nice little carrot on the stick in the final miles. Don't worry...I passed him, then had to stop, AGAIN (this time accompanied by a nice shout of FUCK) and then just begged my body to pull it together for one last quarter mile and was able to get back ahead of him. I am sorry, random man, for being such an awkward end of race compatriot. By this point I was also starting to get unpleasant flickers of cramps in my calves and I was just praying that they could stay flickers for like...3 more minutes. 

We finally came around the corner and into the finishing chute, and despite the utter mess of the last 6 miles I somehow found it in me to turn it on as I came around the corner. The good thing about the chaos of the second half of this race was that I had completely given up on a PR, a decent time, anything, and so I had no idea or particular attachment to my finish time. But let's finish strong, anyway! So I powered across the line in 1:34:08. Ah, it was far from perfect. 1:34, I think, is now my most ubiquitous time for the half. But you know, there are worse things in life than a 1:34 half being "disappointing". 

I sort of wanted to vomit as soon as I crossed the line (lovely!) but managed to hold that in and receive my medal and some water, while ignoring the usual assortment of snacks that I never want any part of at the end of the race. Things I want at the end of a race: potato chips, soda/seltzer, a popsicle. Things I do NOT want at the end of a race (which are always there): banana, bagel, fruit cup, granola bar. I roamed out of the finish chute, pausing to thank the girl who helped me pull it together and congratulating her on her race, and plopped down in the grass, where Joy and Elise eventually found me! Now there are probably a bunch of times in the past when a race like today would have made me want to cry. Today it just made me want to laugh! Despite the time and the atrocious second half...I was happy. Happy that I'd put myself out there without fear and taken a shot, laughing at the fact that at least if I was going to blow up I was going to do it spectacularly. 

BUT my day got even better, because after sending Joy and Elise off for the rest of their long run, I got to spend the next hour CHEERING FOR RUNNERS which we all know is my other favorite thing to do, and something that I sort of forgot I haven't gotten to do in a REALLY long time. This is so dumb, but do you know what the 5th thing that almost made me cry today was? I'm out there clapping, cheering, screaming, the works, and some guy sticks out his hand for a high five...and I literally was like oh my god I'm going to high five a stranger for the first time in two years. And it seriously felt like the best high five of my life. Like something so simple, so normal, and like yes, COVID is still a thing but I'm just so thankful for science and for the vaccine, and for the fact that today I was able to run a road race, to high five a stranger, to hug my friends. Stuff I'll admit I definitely took for granted until it was gone.

Joy and Elise and I met up at Kelsen Brewing and sipped some beers in the sun with some nachos and hot pretzels before heading home, and I've pretty much been laying in bed reading my new favorite cheesy fantasy novel series ever since. My left quad hurts like a B, so that cramp was definitely a real thing. And I know, without a doubt, that today wasn't an accurate representation of my fitness. But for today, that's OK. I was there in the arena, I took a chance and didn't let fear hold me back, and I found the positives when in the past I would have only seen failure. I hugged my friends, I high fived strangers, I ran a RACE today, and it feels so, so good to be back.

Oh and importantly, I ran a 10K PR today! Which you know what I am TAKING because there's an official split for it, and it's a 30 second PR, and my 10K PR is dumb. I suspect that I probably can run faster in the 10K, given that the first 10K of this race didn't feel hard at all...but whatever. So take that half marathon, I still got my PR! (42:41)

New Boston Half Marathon

1:34:08

76/833 OA, 23/516 F, 8/85 F30-34

Race week? RACE WEEK!

The last time I stood on a real life starting line was Superbowl Sunday, 2020. 

I remember goofing off with Taylor as we stood shivering, waiting for the national anthem to play, huddled in a mass of hundreds of bodies. I remember telling myself to play it cool as we pushed off the starting line, shouting at Taylor that I wished I'd brought my arm warmers as some cold wind blasted down the side street near Kendall, and forced myself to practice patience as I watched my teammates take off at low 6 minute pace. I had a plan, to finish strong, and I executed that plan to perfection. I ended up with my last mile the fastest, tying my 5 mile PR, and overall I was pleased. I remember cooling down with Taylor, Erin, and Elise, jogging in blissful sunshine on the bridge over Memorial Drive, giddy with the feeling of an effort and a race well run, and most of all the possibility of more. We all knew that we were just at the beginning of the season and that as strong as we'd performed on this day, we were just getting started. 

If you had told me that day that I wouldn't race again for over a year, that pretty much no one would, that we were standing on the cusp of a global pandemic that would change everyone's lives forever, there's no way I would have believed you. My eyes were on the future, and it wouldn't be long before I impulsively would sign up for the New Bedford half, a race that I have a long love/hate relationship with, convinced I could run a PR. The race was cancelled days later and...well, we know how the rest of that story goes.

The past year has given me plenty of time to think about the why behind my running, and to reevaluate what my goals are/were and how I hope to achieve them. But more than that, and in a way that I never expected, running without knowing when I'd get to show up to a starting line again also set me free in a way I never anticipated. Suddenly, it didn't matter whether or not I did a workout, or how fast my long run was (not that it ever mattered necessarily, but certainly not in the last year). I didn't have to think about proving to myself or anyone else how fast I was, that I could run a good race, because there was no such thing. And out of this year of no expectations, no pressure, and nothing much to do besides run, I rediscovered the fact that I actually just like running in a way that I had almost forgotten.

I only admitted this to myself recently, but Boston 2019 truly did something to my relationship with running that I think it has taken the better part of the past couple of years to repair. The fact that I could train so hard, be so fit, do everything right, and come away with the latest in a series of awful disappointments just absolutely made me want to throw in the towel. My shift into the triathlon sphere was not a coincidence, and picking up a new sport where everything was new definitely helped to bring back some of the joy I'd been missing, but there was truly a part of me that wondered if I'd really be willing to put myself on the line to try to train and run fast at the longer distances again. I had discussions with friends as the pandemic wore on; friends talked about "moving on" from running or similar concepts. As months turned into a year and more, I found I had made my peace with what running had to offer me right now. I ran as much as I wanted, ran fast when it suited me, and enjoyed the tradition of "adventure long run Saturdays" which Joy and I have had going for almost 6 months now. 

But then, something interesting happened.

After finally digging myself out of the injury hole that I'd found myself in from October to December, I realized that the amount of running I was doing "for fun" was...increasing. I was closing in on 50 mile weeks, something I rarely touch outside of marathon training and something I hadn't done at all since pre-pandemic. Not only that, I was in a good groove with cycling and swimming, and...here's the kicker...it all felt like fun. I was just bopping along, doing my thing, when one day I realized: I was actually training. I described it to my friends as the frog in the slowly heating pot: by the time things came to a boil, it was too late to jump out. So naturally, I did the next logical thing: I started doing some workouts. Little ones at first, my classic favorites of short fartleks at a pretty moderate pace. Then I started randomly doing tempo runs (which I should mention is a workout I DETEST and have never done willingly in my life). We started to build the long runs from 12 to 14 to 15. And for the first time in a long time, I felt that feeling of wanting to test myself, wanting to get on a starting line, just wanting to SEE what I could do starting to build up inside of me. The problem was, there was nowhere to do it. By mid-March I was fully vaccinated and genuinely starting to get antsy. I needed a race, and I needed it bad. 

And then one day, I was scrolling facebook when I got a targeted ad for a race I'd never heard of, the New Boston Half. I investigated and discovered it's a race put on by a company that has been successfully operating races since the fall, being run on a new course in NH as a replacement for a race that they typically put on in MA (since we are ridiculous and road races are only FINALLY being allowed by the state). I scoped out the "flat" course and confirmed that for once, it appears that the race directors aren't totally bullshitting with that description. I closed the browser window. And then, we had a work happy hour and after 1 beer I came home and proclaimed to Andrew: "I think I'm doing a half marathon in May. In fact. You know what? I'm signing up RIGHT NOW" and proceeded to do so as my bemused husband looked at me with an expression that could only mean "oh god, she's back at it". 

Which brings us to today. 

I signed up for the race at the beginning of April, knowing that my fitness was already reasonable, and for some reason got it into my head that I actually wanted to TRAIN for the thing. And so, over the past 5 weeks I've completed some of the best workouts of my entire life. I decided to focus my attention entirely on half marathon pace work, something I've never really DONE - I haven't run a standalone half for anything other than the purposes of a marathon tuneup since maybe my first or second half of my life? So I would set these workouts up for myself - 4 mile tempo, 3 x 2 mile HMP, 5K tempo followed by some speed - and look at them in terror, and then I would go out and execute them and just stare at my splits in disbelief wondering how the hell I had become this person who could do these things. But now, as we know, comes the true test.

Sometimes I think I'm just really bad at racing. I can have these amazing workouts, I can be super fit, but often when push comes to shove the end result just doesn't pan out for whatever reason. And I've been grappling with that fact, because objectively, I KNOW I'm in shape to run a half marathon PR. That's not a question. There are two questions: will I be able to execute? And just how far am I willing to go? With very few exceptions, my best races have been those where I've gone in with no expectations, totally fly by the seat of my pants, welp let's see what happens sort of attitude. And quite honestly, I do think I've got a hefty dose of that attitude to bring to this race - hey, first race after the pandemic, I'm pretty sure that's a get out of jail free card! On the other hand, I don't want to sell myself short because I'm too scared to actually try. And this, my friends, is my ETERNAL conundrum of racing!

I can't predict what I'm going to feel like on Sunday, what emotions are going to be running through my head as I stand with a bib number pinned on for the first time in 469 days, nails painted, race braid done, staring down a half marathon, my white whale of a distance. I'll probably cry, and I'll probably be nervous, but I'm hoping that I'll also feel fierce, calm, ready. Will I even remember how to race? (I'll tell you what, I DEFINITELY do not remember how to taper lol). But a thought occurred to me on a run last week: for me, maybe forgetting how to race is a GOOD thing. Maybe it's time to relearn how to race a half; how to be willing to stare discomfort in the face, to stand at the edge of the fire, and to say fuck it, I can keep going. I've not nothing to lose, nothing to prove, and I am just so damn grateful to get to be out there again, that I hope I can let that gratitude and joy carry me. 

Look, I'm just going to say it: I am so sick of my half marathon PR being 1:3x:xx. I'm over it. I want my goddamn 1:29. And if I blow up trying to make it happen in my first race back after the pandemic, so be it, no one will blame me. I absolutely never would have thought that I'd be coming back guns blazing like this, especially in a distance that has eternally scared me.  But I'm sick of putting these limitations on myself, telling myself I'm 'not good at the half', all this bullshit. I've been waiting a year and a half to have this chance again, and if that time has taught me anything it's that you can never take any race, any opportunity for granted, because you absolutely never know when it might come around again. So damn it, it's time to take a chance. 

Holy shit, it's race week. 

2020: A short recap of a ridiculous year

It's almost comical looking back at my year-end post from 2019 and imagining the person I was then. Consumed with work drama, unsure of what to do with myself having not signed up for Boston, awaiting the Ironman training cycle to come and wondering how the rest of the year would play out. I was a little bit frustrated with my stagnant running, but excited about my decision to take the plunge into long course triathlon. So, uh, how did that work out?

I feel like I need to preface my recap of the year by saying that, on a personal level, I have been extremely fortunate this year. My job was unaffected (albeit with an extended foray into the world of doing PT via telehealth, which actually turned out to be not as awful as it sounded); my husband is also in a field where his income wasn't impacted by the pandemic. While I had what I am almost 100% certain was COVID in March (known prolonged exposure at work obviously before the mask-wearing days + symptoms that we now know are hallmarks of the virus, but at the time couldn't be tested because they were only testing those with travel history or respiratory symptoms), and it was absolutely the sickest I've been in my life, I recovered fully, and my family and close friends have remained unaffected. I live in a city where I'm able to have groceries and beer and pretty much anything else I could want delivered. And I have hobbies that have been possible to do all the way along, even if it wasn't in the typical way that I was used to.

So yes, I am extremely grateful for all of the above, but let's be honest, this year was a shitshow. From an athletics perspective, I am extremely proud of my accomplishments this year but also feel the sting of the lost races, training opportunities, and runs with friends (as I'm sure any athlete does). But for the sake of completion, I must do a by the numbers report! So here they are, the numbers of 2020:

Goals: I apparently never got around to setting any goals for 2020 other than finishing an Ironman, which is hilarious and a little bit prescient. So, hey, finish an Ironman distance, mission accomplished!

Mileage run: 1804. This is only 250 miles less than last year, which is slightly concerning given that I didn't train for ANY open marathons, spent the summer at lower mileage due to the need to balance running with the other disciplines of Ironman training, AND have spent the entire fall with a nagging plantar fasciitis problem that's caused me to cut my running down compared to what I'd like to be doing. So I'd like to ask my 2019 self, who trained for 2 marathons: what the heck where you doing? LOL.

I also biked almost 2500 miles, which is definitely a new record (and doesn't count trainer "miles" from last winter because I didn't have a smart trainer yet). Definitely hoping to top this one in 2021.

Highest weekly mileage: 53. Oh my lol. I think I had 4 weeks over 50 miles the whole year. But again, did a LOT of biking. Biggest week of running + biking was 223 (I think I did 2 long rides that week lol)

Races run: *insert crying emoji here*

Actual live races: 2 (I guess I should be grateful I decided to race twice in the early winter!). An indoor track mile at the GBTC invite, and a road 5 miler which actually was a great race in which I executed my strategy to a T and tied my PR. Went out on a high note, I guess?

Remember when we could take photos like this? (Jan 2020)

Or this? (Super Sunday 5 Mile in February, last race before the shitstorm began)

Virtual races/race esque situations: 4. The Yeti 24 Hour Challenge in May, a virtual road mile relay where I actually broke 6 on the roads for the first time, a half Iron tri, and and Ironman. Casual. 

PRs run: I tied my 5 mile PR in an official race, and you know what, for 2020 I will TAKE IT

Proudest accomplishment: For once, that's easy: solo Ironman

Hardest race experience: Hah, well the perk of not having any races this year was that I wasn't forced to race in inclement weather at all!! My DIY half Ironman was probably the most challenging as I cooked myself on the bike and completely fell apart on the run. I learned an important lesson!

Best race experience: Again, solo Ironman. Tough to top that one this year.

Most ridiculous weather: As far as running goes, I'm going to give this award not to a race, but a run: a 15 mile run I did with two friends which was 75 degrees with a dewpoint of 73 at the START (any southerners reading this, I know, that probably sounds like NBD but for this northerner...nope). However, the true most ridiculous weather awards goes to the 3 consecutive weeks of 3-4 hour bike rides that I did in 90+ degree weather (because...I'm an idiot lol)

Biggest surprise race performance: Here, we'll give one to an actual race: tying my 5 mile PR when I was absolutely not in shape to do so! Yeah!

Number of falls taken while running: holy shit, I actually think I made it through all of 2020 without falling, and THAT, my friends, is a 2020 miracle! I fell on my bike twice. So it goes. 

Memorable non-"race" athletic adventures of the year:
- Riding the Kancamagus highway in NH (70 miles out and back through a mountain pass with over 4000 ft of elevation)

- Running on 10+ new rail trails for long runs with Joy this fall

Running in the snow on Halloween                     We found out Biden won in the middle of this run

   This trail had MOGULS!

- Acting as lead bike for Joy's virtual marathon

- My spur of the moment first century to Gloucester and back

- A 3-state ride up the coast from northern MA to Maine including a dive in the ocean (also one of the worst heat/fueling bonks I've ever experienced lol)

The place where I desperately veered off the road and dove into the ocean because I was so hot 😅

-The hilliest ride I've ever done during a trip up to NH, with a side trip over a covered bridge into VT

- Running an auto road up a small mountain in NH during the peak of foliage season, one of the most beautiful runs I've done in my life

I think when I think back on running specifically in 2020, I definitely won't view it as the year I became a faster or stronger runner, but I absolutely became a better athlete on the whole. Having alternate modes of training (and not just as injury backups, but actual goal oriented training) took a lot of the pressure off on those days when for whatever reason running just sounded like a shitty idea. Sometimes because it was 90 degrees, or because I just didn't feel like it, or whatever. I still feel like I have unfinished business with open road racing but my continued dive into triathlon, and especially biking, absolutely kept me sane this year. When the walls felt like they were closing in around me, being able to hop on my bike and go on an 80-100 mile adventure made me feel like there was still something I could control and take back. I've also spent a lot more time running for it's own sake - exploring trails, hilly routes, places where pace becomes irrelevant - and not having the pressure of a race or a performance hanging over my head has brought back a lot of the joy to that sport. Triathlon "fast" is so different than open running fast! To be honest, the fact that I ran a 3:50 marathon at the end of an Ironman really excites me for the possibilities of the future, and how all of the endurance training I've been doing could bode well for some future running race performance. But that's not a 2021 problem, definitely more of a long game plan. 

So of course, the question is...what now? 

I saw a quote on twitter that I think summarized it best: "High hopes, low expectations". Realistically, the earliest I can see maybe getting to race is in June. I'm currently signed up for two races in June deferred from last year, Mount Washington and the White Mountains Tri. The race company that puts on the triathlon has been having races since August with time trial starts and distancing measures - something that's easy to implement in triathlon where time trial starts are pretty normal anyway, and this race venue is huge and can easily accommodate a distanced transition area - so I'm pretty optimistic about the prospect of being able to be on that starting line. As someone who works directly with patients on a day to day basis, I'm also hopeful that I can get the COVID vaccine within the next couple of months (there doesn't appear to be a system in place yet for non-hospital based healthcare clinics, which is....not awesome, but hopefully that will be sorted out at some point) which may make the logistics of racing particularly over state lines, easier. Right now road races aren't allowed in MA, and in the current situation I don't agree with traveling to race even in a "safe" race situation, but I really really hope that things will be different 6 months from now, and closer to where we were this summer when cases were low and it was relatively safe to travel within New England (with masks, etc).  Obviously the BIG hope for the year is that Ironman Wisconsin goes off in September, and again that the overall status of the pandemic is in a place where I feel it's safe/appropriate to get on a plane. I'm optimistic about that. 

In a weird way I'm actually OK with having 6 months to just build - I've been dealing with plantar fasciitis in my right foot since August, which got significantly worse in the fall and is only now (I think) starting to calm down. I'm sort of happy to have the time to fully address this injury (which I've run through all the way along based on the research I've done, but obviously at a reduced capacity) and put it in the rearview, as well as building some fitness on the bike in preparation for the real Ironman build which starts in May. I would LOVE to get on the start line for an open marathon this year more for fun/remembering what that distance feels like than anything else, but I'm not committing myself to anything yet. Right now, my focus is on building that base and trying to bulletproof myself from an injury perspective so that I can be ready to really train hard come spring/summer. 

So...goals? Should we do them? Sure, why not!

- Get and stay injury free - this foot problem has been annoying AF and has impacted all aspects of my life because it's not like you can just...stop walking? So, hi, get your life together, Hatas, and then keep it together. 😂

- Finish Ironman Wisconsin (ideally the actual race this time...)

- Become a stronger cyclist - I am not quite sure how to quantify this because I don't have a power meter, but I guess just looking at speed I'd like to be riding 17.5-18 mph over comparable routes compared to 17-17.5 this year if can

- If possible: do an open water swimming race

- Do at least 60 minutes of yoga and/or strength training weekly. This is my latest iteration of the goal I set EVERY year to do more of the adjunct stuff and I'm hopeful that doing it this way will maybe make it stick? 

- Run more trails/mountains/hills/runs where pace is completely irrelevant

I think that's enough for now. I'd love to set some PRs somewhere, somehow this year, but let's start with some achievable goals and go from there, shall we? 

You Are The One You've Been Waiting For: Ironman Mystic Lakes 2020 Race Report

 I AM AN IRONMAN!

That's really all you need to know, right? I honestly don't even know how to begin this race report, because I still think I'm kind of processing the whole thing...like, I DID it. Not only did I finish an Ironman, I finished an Ironman by myself. I had pictured this finish in such a specific way for so long that I worried that doing it alone wouldn't feel as important or as special, but in so many ways I actually think it made it even MORE special. I had more support from friends than I ever could have dreamed out on the course, got to swim and ride and run in one of my favorite places to do those things, and I got to do it knowing that every bit of this race was my own. I've thought a lot during this COVID era without real races about a line from Center Stage (yes, classic cinema I know): "I'm not dancing for them anymore, I'm dancing for me". I think over the past several months any athlete has had to come to terms with WHY we do this. Is it for medals, for competition, for the race atmosphere? I certainly love those things, but I've come to realize what I already knew: that I run, and do triathlons, because they give me a chance to do things that I never dreamed I could do, to set a goal and work to accomplish it, and to show myself what I'm made of. The bells and whistles, the competition, that's great too, but at the end of the day I do this for me. And doing a solo Ironman, man, what a great way to show myself what I'm made of. And so, settle in for what I'm sure will be an epic race report to go with an epic race (this race report took me over a week to write...so...buckle up lol)!

Prerace

The day before the race I was working from home and had to deal with not 1, not 2, but 3 MEETINGS which was...a struggle to say the least. My brain was uninterested in processing random updates from the state waiver program or doing scheduling or anything else for that matter. I was really excited to race, but I was also REALLY nervous. The 3 biggest things I was worried about:

1. Fueling - eating enough, not overeating, whether my stomach would cooperate, getting enough salt, hydrating well enough, if I'd need to use the bathroom...on and on

2. Mechanical - yes I know how to change a tire now, but I wouldn't exactly call myself an expert, and anything other than that or a dropped chain is pretty much out of my wheelhouse

3. How the HECK running a marathon was going to feel after 112 miles on the bike

I prepped the majority of my gear and food on Thursday night and must have rearranged and checked things 16 times. What stuff needs to go in what bag, what am I carrying vs. leaving at transition vs. leaving at my "aid station", how are we going to carry all this shit to the starting line...etc. Picking out what I was going to wear was easy, it was the rest of it that was tough! But thankfully that was one less thing to worry about on Friday, when my nerves were 100% ahead of my brain. Work finally finished, I went for my traditional 20 minute shakeout run and then headed to the grocery store for bananas and a post race beer. I wandered the beer aisle for awhile before setting eyes on the absolute perfect beer for the occasion: a beer depicting a runner on a trail running into the sunset called "Chasing Darkness". I didn't even know what type of beer it was (a very high ABV imperial stout, excellent) or the price ($29.99 for a 4 pack, oh my), it was just so perfect that I couldn't NOT buy it. Andrew and I headed home and proceeded to make my traditional 5 ingredient butter tomato sauce with pasta and breaded chicken for dinner - it was pretty wild, I actually can't remember the last time I was home the night before a big race. Boston 2019, maybe? So that was pretty nice. I enjoyed my traditional prerace beer (Lawson's Hopzilla), filled up my bottles and then relaxed while watching Frozen 2...despite it's many plot holes (thanks to Andrew for pointing all of them out lol) the music is great and Show Yourself quickly rose to the top of my list of inspirational songs for training this summer so it just felt right. With a 4:15 am wakeup call, I headed to bed by 10. I'm not going to say it was the most restful night of sleep ever - many of my classic "wake up and think the alarm is going to go off in 5 minutes but really you have like 4 more hours to sleep" moves, but what can you do? One thing I did NOT do was obsess about the weather, because the weather gods decided to finally hear my pleas: it was 55 at the start of the race and only got up to about 70 during the day, no humidity, no rain, and not much wind: honestly, about as good as you could possibly ask for for September 12 in Boston!

I spent an hour or so designing my logo and creating a bib, etc for this "race" because I am extremely cool (but TBH, I'm pretty proud of my sunrise-to-sunset logo!)

As with any race, you must have packet pickup. Volunteer was not impressed.

The "snack cooler" - spoiler alert, I only actually used 2 THINGS out of this ridiculous cooler

Race Day

Just like every other race day for the past 5+ years, race day began with Thunderstruck blasting from my phone. I was immediately awake and moving. Holy shit. It's Iron Day. When I grabbed my phone I saw a text from the night before from my sister, who for some reason had sent me the all time track honor role list from my high school. Turns out I'm still the 5th fastest 300 meter hurdler who ever ran at Wauwatosa West, LOL. It really got the day off to a nice start. I had purposely set the alarm early to give myself plenty of time to get myself together and so I puttered around braiding my hair, checking my bags again, and stretching out for a bit. I ate a banana and a can of cold brew coffee along with some water, and then ate my usual oatmeal with PB and brown sugar later at around 5:00. And I even had a real spoon to eat it with this time! Andrew wins the husband of the year award for waking up in the 4:00 hour and biking the 2 miles to the lake with me carrying an EXTREMELY heavy backpack full of all of my extraneous food. I hate waking up early on non-race days but there's something so completely magical about being awake and out in the world in the darkness when everyone is still asleep, knowing that today holds something different for you. Calm and quiet, with dawn just starting to break, we pedaled slowly to the start. I noticed as I rode that my bike was incredibly quiet - definitely a good sign. Also, yes, I had to ride my bike to the start of my 140.6 mile race, which is completely normal. 

We arrived at the lake and I of course immediately needed to go and nature pee because #racedayproblems. I set up my "aid" area with all of the food and drink that I wasn't going to carry, which was a LOT. Spoiler alert, I used almost none of it, but I tried to have just about everything that I thought I could POSSIBLY want if things went south, particularly during the marathon. I think even having the option/knowing the calories were there eased my mind! I drew a cute little chalk finish line and then went back to setup my "transition" area which you may remember from my half iron race earlier this summer...you know, the extremely professional setup of my bike locked to a fence and my gear bag hidden behind some weeds? That's the one lol. 

Finish line! Extremely profesh. 

We return once again to the majestic parking lot fence transition area

My amazing Reach the Beach teammate, John, who has done several Ironmans in the past, volunteered to support me during this race (who even does that? So amazing!) and was going to be swimming with me and then driving out to do a bottle exchange around the 30 mile mark. He arrived around 6 and was laughing at my transition area, having not realized that we don't own a car. Andrew was very helpfully saying things like "13 minutes" as he knew my planned sunrise start time, and so I finally got my wetsuit on and ate my 15 minutes before the start Gu and drank some water. Then Elise arrived! Again, freaking amazing friends, she got up at the crack of dawn to see me off for the swim and then was going to run around the lake before cheering at T1. Seriously, my friends are incredible.

Soon enough Andrew was into his 3 minute countdown and we got into the water, which felt balmy compared to the 50ish degree air temp! Water temp was around 72 degrees which is truly lovely swimming temperature, and wetsuit legal may I add. Now, if you read my half iron race report you'll remember that I got kind of emotional and sang the national anthem to myself to start that race because I love that tradition and moment at the start of races. With more people around, I felt like that would have been kind of weird and so figured I'd be starting this race with less fanfare - less emotion also didn't necessarily seem like a BAD thing when I needed to make sure to keep a cool head to get through this race. But then the most perfect thing happened: Elise said "should we play Shots?" (Shots (yes, by LMFAO/Lil Jon) is the theme song of our Reach the Beach team). And so instead of tearing up during the national anthem, I danced around in the water like an idiot to Shots to start my Ironman day, and it was absolutely perfect. In that moment I had no anxiety, no fear, no nerves, I just felt so lucky and joyful to be here and finally doing this thing, surrounded by these people. 

When I walk in the club, all eyes on me

LFG.

Then Andrew shouted "It's 6:21, BYE!" and I refused to be seen off with such little fanfare, so thankfully Elise jumped in with a countdown of "3...2....1....GOOOO!" And I dove into the water, started my watch, and I was doing a damn Ironman!

The Swim: 2.4 miles, 1:16:52 (1:49/100yd)

First I just need to say: this was a REALLY fast swim for me, especially given my extremely middling level of swim training this summer. I think training without a wetsuit lends a huge advantage when you get to wear one again in races - swimming just feels SO much easier. The swim was an area where I felt like solo racing was actually a huge advantage: no washing machine, no getting kicked in the face, no worrying about where the course actually WAS. Just me and the lake and reach and pull and count to 20 and sight, over and over again. My first 500 yd was, as always, the most challenging - there was mist rising off the lake and I couldn't see my turn buoy, and my goggles fogged up almost immediately.  I also realized that I had forgotten my nose clip, which I've been using because I've been getting HORRIBLE nasal congestion in the evenings after I open water swim, probably from god knows what's in the lake. Apparently it's not an uncommon thing but I'm not used to it enough yet for it to be a habit to wear it. Thankfully I didn't have an issue for the remainder of the day!

Once I found the buoy I paused for a second to sort out my goggles, which really never gave me a problem after that thankfully. The second "leg" of the swim loop is by far the easiest to sight because there's a huge house on the far shore that's much easier to target compared to little sailing buoys! So during that stretch, I finally started to get into a rhythm. I kept trying to tell myself to stop gawking at my watch but I couldn't help but sneak peeks every time it buzzed another 500 yd split. When my second split was under 9 minutes, I knew I had a good thing going. The sun was rising over the trees in the east and every time I breathed I wanted to smile; it was absolutely beautiful. I just felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this day, this place, and being able to undertake this ridiculous thing. I really love swimming and being in the water, and I find it incredibly peaceful especially without all the chaos that the swim is during an actual race. 

I continued around the loop, swimming directly into the sun for awhile during the final stretch back towards the boathouse which was not the most enjoyable thing ever but I managed. I noticed that I was slightly short on distance for the first loop so decided to take the second loop wider so that I didn't have to do all kinds of silly out and backs at the end. Continuing on: stroke, stroke, count. Stroke, stroke, count. Once in awhile I would sight and notice I was swimming way off course but overall I felt like I had a better sense of where I was on the second loop and I pretty much decided that I didn't need to care about where the buoys were except for the one near the big house. Fuck sighting! This is my race, I don't have to sight or swim in a straight line! LOL. I definitely made a wider loop on the second lap which I discovered when I ran into some lilypads and was VERY startled...it seriously felt like myI hand hit a solid object like someone's boat or dock or something...nope, just lilypads. At another point I sighted and was like 5 ft away from someone's water trampoline...that sounds like fun, but not now! I never really got tired during the swim - I felt really strong and in control the entire time, which I think is the perfect way to feel when you're on the first and shortest leg of a very long race. My left ankle started to bother me a little bit from all the kicking as it tends to do because I swear I have no ligaments left there, but I was able to modify my kick a bit and it eased up. I got up close and personal with my cormorant friend who hangs out on the buoys again and kept an eye out for bald eagles...yes...just birdwatching during an ironman swim, AS ONE DOES. 

The second loop seemed to pass really quickly, although as far as I can tell I pretty much perfectly swam even splits for the two loops. I realized when I was getting back near the boathouse that I needed a little extra distance so I made some awkward circles and then swam back to shore - stopped my watch with a PERFECT 4225 yards, you can't get any better than that! John was so nice and motivational and was like "you were FLYING! and I mean, for my current swim abilities, I kind of was! The swim complete, it was time to head to T1 and prepare for the longest leg of the race: the bike!

Struggling out of the lake lol

T1 - about 10 minutes

I took my sweet time getting out of the water and leisurely headed over to my transition area - rushing through transitions was NOT going to be a thing today. Got out of my wetsuit and talked to Andrew while also throwing random things for him to carry home. Thankfully John had brought sunscreen (OOPS I did not) so I slathered that on, got all of my food on board while eating a Honey Stinger waffle, and just really tried to make sure I had everything I needed for the next 6-7 hours of my life to be spent on a bicycle. I bid John farewell and confirmed our handoff spot, kissed Andrew goodbye, and mounted up on Bahamut for 112 miles of fun!

The Bike: 112 miles, 6:35:59 riding time (6:46:57 total time with stoplights,bathroom and aid station stops), 17.0 mph

My bike course was a multiloop course, starting with the small 5 mile loop around the lake and then heading out to do 2 larger loops in Concord before returning to the lake to ride loops on loops on loops for the final 65 miles. My goal for the beginning of the ride was to stay relaxed, not stress about pace, and EAT - literally the one thing that was drilled into my head by my more experienced Ironman brethren was "do NOT underfuel on the bike". With that in my mind, I took off on my first "warmup" loop around the lakes and almost immediately ran into Elise! I whooped and waved my arms and continued on. A couple miles in I noticed a woman in a SRR jersey and with a virtual Boston bib - turns out their whole club was doing their virtual marathon around the lake! And so I got to do my other favorite thing: I got to cheer on these runners as I rode. Again, this was something that just perfectly set the tone for the entire day. Instead of anxiously wondering how the next 100 miles of riding was going to go, I was giddy with excitement both for myself and for these other 10 people who were also doing something completely insane, and people were clearly so genuinely grateful to have some encouragement as they ran a marathon alone. The energy was completely contagious. It didn't hurt that it was also an absolutely BEAUTIFUL morning...high 50s, sunny, no humidity, amazing. 

I completed my loop and saw Elise again which gave me a boost as I headed out into the beginning of my first real loop. Heading out I got stuck behind a bulldozer going very slowly which was awkward, and I sort of yelled at it for existing, but thankfully soon enough I was able to get off the main road and away from the traffic. The only significant hills on my course were within the first 15 miles which was perfect - I was feeling really fresh, my bike felt smooth, and I was ready to just relax and cruise up the hills. The first long hill, Johnson Road, I took in my lowest gear and tried to just keep my heart rate down. I could tell I was in a good mood because when I'm in a good mood on my bike, do you know what I do? I talk to myself, out loud, like CRAZY. When I'm grumpy or tired or just not feeling it I just put my head down and get it done, but when I'm happy on my bike I feel like the whole world needs to know it and I just find myself shouting random things into the breeze. It's weird, for sure, but who's there to hear it? So I crested the double hump of Johnson Rd and said to myself "only one more big hill, and that's it!". I am actually not a terrible climber and don't really MIND rolling hills, even if they're large, but it was still nice to know that was in the rearview mirror. I got stuck at a couple of stoplights in this section, which I knew was a possibility, but I just used them as an opportunity to get some fuel in. My fueling plan was pretty simple: big drinks at the 5's, gu chomps and a smaller drink at the 10's, and "big food" (Clif bar, waffle, Combos, etc) at approximately 45, 65, and 85. I did end up modifying this strategy slightly as we'll discuss later but overall I am actually REALLY proud of my fueling - I was nervous about it the entire time but I think I did a really excellent job based on how strong I felt overall throughout the race.

Happily heading out to the bike course, screenshot c/o Elise!

Back to the bike course, something fairly silly happened: I rode past a construction site of some sort that had a very large crane, and I felt the need to say out loud "that's a big ass crane". Well, my brain decided to take "big ass crane" and convert it to the song it had heard most recently involving the word "ass"...and that song is WAP. I am not joking, I wish I was, I spent the next 6 hours of riding with a nearly constant refrain of "from the top, make it drop..." etc running through my head.  It WOULD NOT LEAVE. Of all the absurd songs to have stuck in your head, I think this might be tied with the time I somehow got The Wheels on the Bus stuck in my head during a marathon as the most ridiculous.  I also saw a huge pack of turkeys during this stretch and screamed "HI GOOD MORNING TURKEYS ENJOY YOUR DAY" because I just get really excited about seeing animals when I ride...lol. 

I made my way onto Grove Street, which despite one fairly large hill is actually one of my favorite roads to ride - nice smooth roads, minimal traffic, and it's rather pretty to boot. I once again kept my effort on the lower side climbing the one major hill in this section; I just figured it was so early that it didn't make sense to burn myself out on one climb. And soon enough I was headed into the first of my big loops, one of my favorite loops, between Bedford, Carlisle, and Concord. I continued to focus on eating and drinking - John had told me that I should try to finish my 2 bottles by the time I met him for our exchange around mile 32 - but it just seemed like SO much liquid to take in. I tried not to worry about it too much - it was cool, and I wasn't sweating much - and focused on finding a nice groove and effort level for the first loop. 

At this point, things were really clicking, and this loop is a section where riding fast is definitely possible. Looking back I probably could have gone faster on the first loop, but I think in a race of this distance discretion is definitely the better part of valor. There was so much race left to go, and I knew that feeling good at this moment meant absolutely nothing for how I might feel in an hour, or 4 hours, or 6 hours! So I kept my effort at a pretty moderate level and just had an absolutely WONDERFUL time on that first loop. I said hi to the two little miniature horses who I always see on this loop. I SCREAMED when I saw some goats which are not usually there (literally: "OMG, GOATS! HI GOATS! GOOD MORNING!" I swear one of them looked at me with disdain...lol). I tried to think of some other songs to sing to get WAP out of my head but my brain just kept on circling back to "get a bucket and a mop...." etc. Good lord, why. I remembered that there was a Porta Potty on the second leg of the triangle of this loop, which I was very happy about because I was already kind of feeling like I needed to pee. I decided I'd hold off until the second loop, after the bottle exchange, and kept cruising down Lowell Rd. There were tons of cyclists out and I waved at every one, feeling like I had this secret: psst, did you know? I'm doing an IRONMAN right now! 

I came through the Concord rotary and headed onto the third leg of the triangle; only 5 miles until John and the bottle exchange! I still was maybe only 1/4 of the way into my second bottle and I tried to take the opportunity to take as much of it in as I could. It was made more difficult by the fact that I was now REALLY looking forward to that porta potty (things to learn for next year: learn to pee on the bike) and I was simultaneously trying to get myself to chill out because I had just posted a couple of 5 mile splits on the order of 18.5-19 mph which I told myself I was NOT allowed to do. I know my current cycling abilities and I knew that the better end of my abilities for 100+ miles was in the low 17 mph range. Going any faster than that would be setting myself up for absolute disaster on the run. I think again this is where being in a solo race was actually SUPER helpful. In a race where I would have had people blowing by me on the bike, it would have been soooo easy to go too hard on the bike because I was trying too hard to compete. Not that competing was ever my goal, but when you're in that situation shit just happens and you let the adrenaline of competition run away with you. Because I was quite literally riding my own ride, I could calibrate with myself and keep my effort levels in check totally based on how I was feeling, not on what the heck was going on around me, and I think for my first shot at this distance that was actually a blessing for executing the thing well. 

Soon enough I was hitting the 30 mile mark, nearly 2 hours in already and almost time to meet John! When I got to our handoff spot I initially couldn't find him but spotted him over on the other side of the road. At this point I was still feeling GREAT and giddy, and I told him so. I downed some more of my second bottle and then grabbed my next two, to the amusement of a random bystander in his driveway who joked "I'm pretty sure I saw him slip something in those, watch out". Hey, my first random spectator! I probably stopped for under a minute and cruised out of Bedford and on to the second loop.

By this point, my thoughts were almost completely consumed by how badly I needed to use the bathroom. I literally could not think about anything else besides reaching the damn porta potty, which was like 8 miles, or nearly half an hour, away! So I just put my head down and proceeded to ride way too hard, nearly 20 mph, for the next few miles in an effort to not pee my pants - retrospectively, I don't know why I didn't just pee my damn pants? Had I been in a real race I almost certainly would have. So, pros and cons of solo racing: you probably will pace better, but you'll also waste time actually stopping at a porta potty instead of just peeing on the bike by yourself on the road lol.

Finally, like a mirage, the magical porta potty emerged. I practically threw my bike on the ground as I staggered over the gravel - what a waste of energy and a total loss of momentum! Again: need to learn to pee on the bike. Despite my relief, I feel like the whole situation, and possibly overdrinking had really thrown my whole body askew, and the next 10 or so miles were actually some of my least favorite of the entire race. They were also actually the ONLY time all day when I was at all concerned about not being able to finish. I noticed I was feeling kind of hungry, so as soon as I got back on my bike I ate a Honey Stinger waffle and then, for good measure, decided to take a salt tab. But I still didn't feel great - I still was kind of hungry, and I also just felt TIRED - not physically, like my legs were still fine and pedaling away, but like I could just close my eyes and fall asleep on my bike. To be fair, I HAD been up since 4 am, but it seemed odd and more of a sign that something was amiss. Later, when I reached Concord and had to stop briefly, I felt super shaky and unpleasant when I put my leg down, almost lightheaded. I started trying to go through the mental checklist of what the problem might be. I was almost positive it was NOT dehydration and if anything I was wondering if I maybe wasn't a little hyponaetremic because of how much I'd been drinking and how LITTLE I'd been sweating compared to basically all of my training rides. I definitely wasn't thirsty, and so I decided to take a break from the drinking plan for 5-10 miles and see how I felt. 

Now, just because I didn't want to drink at that moment didn't mean I didn't want my bottles, and so you can imagine my displeasure when, around mile 42, my front water bottle cage decided to try to make a break for freedom as the top screw holding in in place straight up popped off my bike. I had LITERALLY tightened that screw on Friday; I'm guessing it's probably stripped, but regardless I just heard a clank and then a clunk and was horrified thinking something had gone terribly wrong with my bike. Nope, just the water bottle cage, but still a pretty significant problem - I can't really drink out of the back cage while riding, and I still had at least 4 more hours of riding to go. With a litany of cursing, I got off my bike and tried to find the rogue screw, but it had rolled off into the abyss somewhere, never to be seen again. Shit. I stood there for a second taking stock of what I had that I could possibly use to try to fix this problem. Maybe I could use the duct tape that was currently holding my flat kit to my bike? (Related: I need to just invest in a storage bag for my bike so that I don't have to duct tape my flat kit to my bike like a loser lol). But I wasn't convinced that the duct tape would hold. What else...what else...did I have a rubber band? I searched my pockets -no, why would I have a rubber band in there? And then I remembered: I HAD ONE ON MY WRIST! I had put it on as sort of a play on the fact that at a real Ironman race you have a wristband that denotes you as an athlete. And my stupid fake rubber band wristband was my salvation! I wrapped and twisted it around the top of the cage and miracle of miracles, it held. It held through 70 more miles of riding and as far as I know is still holding now...which reminds me that at some point I'm going to have to replace that screw haha.

Well, crisis averted, and as far as I could tell I had only lost a minute or two, though it felt like a lifetime. But I still didn't feel awesome. I definitely felt better, and a little more awake thanks to needing to problem solve on the spot, but still just off. There was so much race left to go that I needed to solve this problem and I needed to do it now. So I decided to bring out my ace in the hole, salt and calories all in one delicious package: Pizzaria Pretzel Combos. I would like to give a huge shoutout to my stomach, which seemed perfectly content to accept without question whatever crap I decided to throw at it during this race. And while the combos were extremely logistically challenging to eat (think: attempting to open a baggie, and pull out one combo at a time so as not to choke, while also keeping one hand on the handlebars to steer and brake...), I tell ya what, they did an INCREDIBLE job of fixing whatever my issue was. By this point I had turned for a short stretch on the Minuteman bike path, which was exactly as terrible of an idea to include in the course as I knew it would be. I literally had to come to a complete stop at one point behind a pack of children, not ideal. But on the flip side, I did get to cheer for some more virtual Boston people, and I tried to just accept it as a forced chill out break before heading into the second half of the bike. By the time I made the turn off the path I could feel my energy returning; my urge to shout random statements into the wind was back. I had solved it! Combos had solved it! Let me tell you, every single Ironman in my future will absolutely include both Combos and rubber bands carried with me on the bike, because those two things together just might have saved my race.

I hit mile 55 with it's delightfully large down hill and said to myself "halfway! Halfway is...good. Better than not halfway." Extremely wise and useful words, I tell ya. And then I turned onto the lake loop and finally got a few minutes of reprieve from WAP, because all I could think of as I made the turn was Everybody Wants To Rule The World..."welcome to your life...." Because this loop was literally going to be my life for the next 7ish hours? That is too many hours to think about all at once, so I just tried to get my head on straight and think about the only think I could think about: one lap at a time. Don't think about the run, the run is 3 or more hours away, and the only thing you can do about the run right now is not be an idiot on the bike. So stay on the bike! Stay in the moment! Don't screw up your fueling, don't hammer, just ride. 

There were still 2-3 people finishing their Boston races when I arrived back at the lake and so I tried to hype myself up by cheering even MORE aggressively for them. And they all kind of looked at me like I was insane? One woman seemed very grateful but the rest looked at me like I had grown an extra head, which is sort of fair because I have felt that way about spectators at mile 20 of a tough marathon as well. I kept my eye out for John, who apparently was on the exact opposite side of the lake from me for essentially the entire ride and was riding faster than me but not fast enough to catch up 😂. I tried to plot out when mentally and physically I should stop for fuel - I still had almost a full bottle left at mile ~56 when I entered the lake loop, and I decided I would try to hold off until 75 or so to stop and refill my bottles, keeping that carrot on a string for myself. In the meantime, I forced myself to eat a Clif Bar, which I sang a little song about, something like "this tastes like dirt but I'll eat it anywayyyy" because it  ABSOLUTELY tasted like dirt in the moment but I knew I had to eat it, so I did. Oh well. I think eating things when you absolutely are not interested in eating things is kind of an essential feature of long course triathlon. 

The next 3 loops were uneventful. WAP reappeared in my head, which was unfortunate, but I couldn't seem to do anything about it. "Hey brain, how about we sing a different song?" "OK sure...here's the lyrical version of WAP that's going around on TikTok!" Sigh.  I wasn't riding particularly fast or slow, but holding steady with splits in the mid to high 17s which is right around 17 mph, and that seemed fine. It was definitely getting harder and I was starting to get a little sick of being on my bike, but overall nothing too dire. I stopped and refilled my bottle with Gatorade and grabbed my other two sleeves of chews, got rid of some of my wrappers and trash, grabbed some Cheez Its which I didn't end up eating, and took another salt tab before heading back onto the loop. 

People keep asking me what the hardest part of the race was, and I think about miles 80-100 of the bike were it. I feel like I've heard that before, that mile 85 of the bike is just a bad place, and I definitely believe it now. The first lap after my refuel was OK, but for the next 20 or so miles I felt like I was having to pull out every mental trick I knew to try to talk myself into another loop. I kept trying to do math and figure out how many hours I had left, but that was making things WORSE because the math said I still had over 2 hours to ride, and that sounded awful. I'd liken the experience to something like mile 16 of a marathon: you're pretty damn far in, but you are also pretty damn far away. It also probably didn't help that the math I was doing was a) incorrect and b) pointless. The conversion from pace to time just was not working for me, and on several instances I talked myself into thinking I was going to ride a 7:30 bike leg before realizing that my math was completely incorrect. At a certain point I literally just had to say to myself "stop trying to do math when you're tired because it IS NOT HELPING".  Other things that weren't helping: when I pulled out my margarita Gu chomps, which I was excited for, I bit into one and it was stale feeling and just tasted like plastic. I assume since I got them from Amazon that they were just sitting in some warehouse for God knows how long and took on the taste of their own wrappers, but I swear it felt like I was chewing on a Barbie foot. Cool, cool. As I needed these stupid chomps to stick to the fueling plan, we got to file that under "things I ate during the Ironman that I did not want to eat". During one of these unpleasant laps I also got to deal with a driver pulling out of a parking spot and then proceeding to just sit in the bike lane...for reasons. I shouted some not very nice things at them in front of several people getting ready to go hang out by the lake...it was a dark place, OK?? My butt hurt and my back was bothering me and my legs were sick of just doing the same motion over and over, and the tops of my feet were hurting from pushing against the tops of my bike shoes, and just, blah. I tried not to think too hard about the fact that I still had hours more of this to go and just tried to get out of my seat now and then, change gears, change cadence, change it up as much as I could while still moving forward. 

Through all of this my pace had definitely slowed but was holding relatively steady in the high 16s/low 17s for each 5 mile loop. I tried to do some semi-productive math by thinking of how many miles I had to go and then breaking it down 14 different ways to see which version sounded the most appealing. "OK, so if I have 35 miles to go, that's really like riding 25 miles and then just 10 miles! And then 2 miles but that basically doesn't count, right?" Or, "I'm going faster than 20 minutes a lap, but even if I did slow down that far, I only have an hour and 20 minutes after this lap".  Slowly, slowly, slowly the number of laps I needed to ride dwindled. I had promised myself a stop at the porta potty at mile 100 because I figured I'd want to deal with any bathroom related issues before starting the run. Getting off my bike, I practically fell over as I staggered across the gravel, and all I could think for the remainder of the ride was how in the everloving heck am I going to run a marathon???

But finally, there I was, with 7 miles left of the ride. I feel like the last lap should have felt more triumphant than it did, but by this point I was so in my head about the fact that I had to run a damn marathon that I hardly even noticed what was going on. However, I did take a few moments to have a little gratitude moment for NO MECHANICALS (aside from the stupid water bottle cage, which, look, if something was going to go wrong with my bike I'll accept that)! I finally encountered John as I headed for the little out and back to make it a full 112 miles - he was now running, because of course he was! As I pedaled back to the boathouse he was coming towards me yelling "you're done!? Holy shit! You're so fast!" Which is adorable because he can ride significantly faster than I can, but it still gave me such a boost. I turned into the boathouse drive and cruised back up to my transition area, and the bike leg (and my longest ride ever) was complete!

Fueling for posterity: Had a total of 5 large bottles (probably only drank 3 entirely but drank most of the others): 3 were normal strength Skratch, 1 was slightly watered down Skratch, and 1 was Gatorade. 5 packs of Gu chomps. 1 Honey Stinger waffle. 1 banana peanut butter Clif Bar. 2 servings of Combos, 2 salt tabs. I feel like I read a lot of race reports where people do all their fueling with liquid (John was surprised at how much solid food I was planning when I shared my race plan with him), but honestly my stomach was solid throughout the ride and I felt like I absolutely needed the change in flavor/texture to actually keep from feeling ill. But no nausea, no digestive issues - aside from the struggle midway, I think this plan worked well! I believe I probably could have benefited from a few more calories (and some caffeine would not have been a terrible idea) during that 85-100 slump, something to consider for the future.

T2 - ~ 10 minutes (it absolutely did not feel that long but I guess I must have taken my sweet time lol)

I got back into transition and took a few moments to steady myself before slowly trying to sort out my fuel and clothing while mentally wrapping my brain around the fact that I was about to run a marathon. Helmet was replaced with hat, bike shoes replaced with Kinvaras, bib number was donned because I'm cool like that, race belt was packed with Gus. John came running in around then and tried to tell me that I had been riding 18 mph (I was not but I appreciate it anyway!) and I reassured him that I was happy with my ride regardless of what the actual pace was. This whole marathon thing, however, aggggghh, I was terrified! How was this going to feel? I just think I've run so many awful marathons in my life that I'm a little bit scarred by the idea of running under anything less than perfect conditions haha. But when I voiced these thoughts, John, ever the wise man, looked at me sort of incredulously and was like "but...you're a runner. A strong runner. This is what you do! You'll be fine." I sure hoped he was right. Enough dawdling; I looked at my watch. 2:15. That left me 4 hours and 13 minutes to run a marathon to achieve my goal of finishing before sunset. "I don't know if I can do that, but I'll try!" I said to John. "Guess I better get going..." And with that, I headed out of the parking lot, off into the great mystery that is an Ironman marathon.

The Run: 26.2 miles, 3:51 and change, 8:50 pace

Not gonna lie, I am SUPER proud of this run. I am also 100% convinced that I can run an Ironman marathon faster...maybe even much faster. Dangerous thoughts. But we're getting ahead of ourselves...back to the race at hand. 

I took off out of transition feeling great, and honestly just very happy to be off my bike and doing the thing that I know how to do. As unfamiliar as the specific situation was, when it came to the sport this was finally familiar territory. I knew how efforts should feel, how they should not feel, and how to manage a wide variety of extenuating circumstances on the run, and that knowledge did buoy me a bit as I set off. About 3/4 mile down the road, I ran into Andrew and our dog, and I decided to stop for a second to say hi to them both and also to sort out my playlist, which I wasn't sure was shuffling as it should (another solo race perk: an absolutely banging run playlist. Farewell, WAP, see ya never). Then I started laughing because John was literally behind me YELLING at me that I couldn't stop already! Hah! I said to Andrew "John's giving me shit, gotta go!" and headed off onto the loop. I honestly had no clue what pace I was running and was pretty amused when I saw my first mile was an 8:15...inclusive of dilly dallying with my dog for probably at least 30-45 seconds, whoops? And all I could think was that I felt ASTONISHINGLY good. The turnaround from getting off my bike like "am I going to walk this marathon" to running 8 minute pace and feeling like I was jogging was bizarre, but amazing. I think it was a combination of successful fueling on the bike, my body's innate knowledge of how to run, and just utter happiness to be finally doing the thing that I actually know how to do!

The run course was easy to break up into chunks: 5 loops, a mile at the end. That's it. And the first loop FLEW by. I clicked off 8:00 miles and couldn't believe how good I was feeling. I felt smooth, easy, relaxed, and like I could do this all day, pretty much the polar opposite of how I expected to feel coming off the bike. I swear, though, there's something about running off the bike that just works. As insane as it seems, I think maybe everything is just well warmed up and firing in a way that somehow makes running feel easier? I knew that feeling this good couldn't possibly last, and in fact actually worried to myself that I was somehow going out TOO hard, but everything else was telling me that I was running at an appropriate effort, and if I could bank some time in the first half of this marathon, why the heck not?  In a perfect shuffle serendipity, one of the first songs that came on during this loop was "Into the Unknown" (yes...from Frozen 2...). It was so fitting - I really felt like I WAS entering unknown territory. Did I sing out loud a little bit? I'll leave that to the random person doing yardwork who may or may not have heard me to say...😂 Somewhere around mile 3 a car honked and someone screamed at me and I saw sunglasses out of a window - it was one of my friends! I had sort of withheld the fact that I was doing this from most of my friends until the day before when I finally decided to inform our running friend group text that "...hey...so I'm doing an Ironman tomorrow..." I absolutely did not expect anyone to spend their Saturday showing up for my imaginary "race" let alone cheering for me for an ENTIRE marathon, but I tell ya, I have some amazing friends. As I came around by the beach parking lot there was Aly and her husband, cheering like crazy! I really couldn't figure out what to do with myself when people cheered so my reaction just tended to be waving my arms awkwardly in the air and yelling WOO! haha. Then I saw Brenda in her mini, screaming out the window! I felt just an enormous wave of gratitude for my friends. I think one of the most amazing things about the friendships you make through sports is having this avenue to loudly and emphatically support each other. Over the years some of my absolute favorite memories have been of races that I spectated or cheered for, and my friend group is such that if we're able to spectate another one of us at a race, we will BE there. It just was so special to have that part of the experience even this unofficial "race" and was really a big part of what made it feel real and special and important. 

So maybe that's why starting my second loop after seeing my friends was one of the few times all day that I really got a little emotional - something I expected to happen way more! I think for the most part during the day I ended up being so focused on the task at hand that I didn't have time or energy to get emotional about it, but heading off on the second lap after this great first loop, feeling strong and supported and for the first time sort of understanding that I was going to finish this thing, I almost started crying....only to immediately force myself to stop because I quickly realized that it was extremely difficult to breathe when becoming emotional...hahaha. OK then, back to business, and on to loop 2. There's one small but fairly steep hill around mile 1.5 of the loop, and I could tell that my heart rate was spiking WAY too high when I ran up it on loop 2 - easy decision, I'd walk up it on subsequent loops. This was definitely one of those choices that was informed more by my mindset of making sure I could finish than even how I actually felt physically in the moment, and I think is a great example about how not being in a race was maybe a detriment to my strategy on the run. In reverse of the bike, I think with competitors around I would have been more likely to skip some walk breaks, not dilly dally when I saw my friends, etc. That being said, it's impossible to know whether doing those things was what allowed me to feel so strong all the way through the marathon! I'm curious how my strategy will change next year with the difference in environment. Either way, in this case I was happy to take a more conservative approach to ensure that I would be able to finish what I started. I was still vaguely worried about fueling - I took a Gu at the 5 mile mark and was carrying a bottle of Skratch, but wasn't sure how I'd feel in another 10 miles. That was really the theme of the marathon: "OK, you feel great right now, but what about the next lap?"

I could tell I was sweating more and getting "warmer" (again - high of 70 degrees and dry basically felt INCREDIBLE, but you know how it goes) so decided I'd stop to refill my bottle at my aid station at 10. I was also starting to crave something other than salty/sweet foods and figured I would open my lemon/lime soda as well...bubbles sounded appealing. I had slowed a little bit in the second half of the lap, to closer to 8:15 pace, but still very much ahead of where I'd expected to be at this point. I rolled up to my snack cooler and got to work refilling my bottle and cracking the soda, which did indeed taste DELICIOUS. I also took another Gu because I felt like I should though I was not interested at all. As I was doing my aid station thing, who did I see coming up the path but Jade and her husband! Jade is a college teammate who recently moved to Boston and I was pumped to see her! We chatted for a little bit and she asked me how I was feeling. I thought for a second and offered "um...like I REALLY don't want to start running again". And it was true! The stop had really killed my momentum and I was suddenly aware of how fatigued my legs actually were. Ugh, well that could only mean one thing...time to go! I'm sort of amazed actually seeing that my split for this mile was only a 10:12 (compared to 8:20 moving time ) - I was stopped for under 2 minutes, but it felt like forever!

I had decided that I would stop to use the bathroom on this lap, basically at the halfway point, so that was a nice target for the next 3 miles. I'd suspected that laps 3 and 4 were going to be the most difficult due to that classic "you're a ways in but you have a ways to go" marathon problem, but the 3rd lap was actually not awful once I got into it. Down at the bottom of the lake, I saw Aly and did some more arm waving, and she asked me if I needed anything because they were going to the store. I racked my brain....I had so much in my snack cooler, what did I need? So I decided to shout my first gut reaction: COKE! With the prospect of ice cold caffeine awaiting me on the other side of the lap, I set off for lap 3. I was definitely starting to slow a bit but kept chugging along at a generally reasonable pace, still in the mid to high 8's. About 2 miles into the loop, I passed a woman who I had seen multiple times on the previous loops, running the opposite direction as me. Since we were now on the order of running 12-13 miles around this lake I became curious if she, like me, was currently running a marathon. So...when I crossed paths with her again I decided to shout "Are you running a marathon right now?!" She replied "....yes..." and I completely lit up and SCREAMED "FUCK YEAH!! ME TOO!!" And it was so awesome, because the entire rest of the time we were out there, every time we saw each other we gave a thumbs up or a wave or a "you got this".  It was almost like having someone in the race with me! The discovery of my marathon brethren was definitely a pick me up, and I happily headed towards the halfway mark with Springsteen blasting in my ears, singing along..."for the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside, that it ain't no sin to be glad you're alive..." (Love the entire Born to Run album, but I think Badlands is actually my favorite Springsteen song). God, I was so glad to be alive. So glad to be here and having this day that just felt like such a celebration, regardless of the insanity that the rest of the year has been. I could have this thing. I could refuse to let anything stand in my way or take away this chance and this choice that I'd made for myself over a year ago. You spend your life waiting for a moment that just don't come...don't waste your time waiting...

The porta potty stop at mile 13 was quick, in and out, and I was back on the road towards my friends and my Coke that awaited. Up at the top of the loop I ran into Jade again and did some more awkward fist pumping and "woo"ing - I'd love to know what the people walking their dogs or having dinner in their homes thought about this random idiot running multiple laps as day turned into evening. I took a walk break to take a salt tab down and get some more fluids in as I was definitely thirsty. This was also the section of the race where my brain was tired and starting to latch on to random shit in the environment, such as a house in this section that had put out a very aggressive wine barrel wine rack with a "FREE!" sign at the end of their driveway...by this point I had passed it at least 8 times between the bike and the run and was in a goofy enough mental state to think about how actually, if I had a car, maybe I'd come back for this completely impractical wine rack? I rounded the turn into the nice downhill, had to veer into the road a bit to avoid some electrical work going on and kind of laughed to myself...how crazy was this cop directing traffic going to think I was when he saw me two more times this evening?

I reached the beach parking lot and my friends, now with their dog and toddler in tow, and COKE! I know they typically have it flat at races but let me tell you, ice cold, fizzy, sugary, cola-y goodness has never tasted so sweet. I walked a little bit while drinking and thanking my friends. They asked how I was feeling and I was sort of non-committal - I think I said "not terrible" lol. My friend Aly made the excellent point that "you have literally like...an hour and a half, and then you're an Ironman!" 90 minutes seemed both an eternity and an instant, but either way it seemed doable.  I trotted off with my water bottle in one hand and my coke in the other.I got sick of that setup pretty quickly, so I dropped it behind a guardrail by my aid station and promised I'd come back to get it later or grab another drink if needed. I got a bit of a side stitch probably from swigging it too quickly, but that passed thankfully - my only minor  "GI" issue of the day, and caused by my own insistence on drinking more of a carbonated beverage than was probably wise. I guess they serve it flat at Ironman races for a reason...  

So now I was at 15 miles, on the loop that would bring me to 20. This was the lap that I had expected to be the hardest, and it certainly was, but it never felt impossible. I saw Jade and Tim again in the middle of the "backstretch" of the loop and did some more arm waving and "wooing" although it was now accompanied by a self-deprecating "ugh, I'm DYING!" Rumors of my death were highly exaggerated, but my legs were definitely starting to be less enthused about the prospect of more miles on top of the 130 that they'd already covered today. There were definitely a few extra walk breaks on this lap but I kept them short and sweet. I realized that I had skipped taking a gel at 15 because of the Coke, so I hunted down one with caffeine and took that. Caffeine just sounded like a GREAT idea - anything to give me just a little bit more energy. I tried not to think too much, and to just keep moving - one foot in front of the other, don't you dare try to do weird math to figure out what time you're going to finish in just keep going. Keep going. I saw my marathon friend again, both of us definitely moving a little slower than before, but we gave a thumbs up and kept on moving. The impractical wine rack was still there. The electrical work was still happening. The sun was getting lower in the sky, golden streaks across the lake. I got another amazing round of cheers from my friends, who had now been joined by yet another member of the crew! And soon enough my watch indicated that I'd reached the 20 mile mark. 1 lap to go.

I for some reason had found myself craving water and MORE soda and so I decided to stop at my snack cooler to do one last refill. Well, turns out I didn't actually zip up the cooler, and turns out if you open a soda in an unzipped cooler there will be ANTS. So there were ants everywhere. It was delightful. But I dumped some Sprite into the cap of my water bottle and took it like a shot because I really wanted it, and then refilled my water bottle and prepared to head out. I totally zoned out for a second and was like...cleaning up the area, dumping out the Sprite, and I got about 20 seconds into that task and then was like, holy shit, nope you can do that LATER, right now you've gotta GO. And as golden hour emerged, I headed off into my last loop. 6 miles to go, 70 minutes before sunset, and I knew: I had it. I was going to do it.

I had told Andrew that I'd text him when I had 5 miles to go and I decided I'd pull out my phone walking up the little steep hill and then try to run it the rest of the way in. But before that, I tried to savor it as I headed out into the last loop. This was it. I had completed so many laps around this loop, not only on this day but in training, tempo rides, easy runs, swimming at 6 am. I know this loop better than practically any route I've ever run. The golden light was beautiful; there's no better time of day to be out there than that golden hour before sunset. And as I approached the bottom of the loop, thinking of all of this, it was at that moment that Show Yourself came on my playlist. And out of the whole day, this was the moment when I finally let myself get a little emotional. For every training cycle since I've started listening to music while running, there have always been a few songs for each cycle that just come to be the anthems for that race. They aren't necessarily always pump up type songs and often times I can't really explain WHY they're the anthems for a race, they just are. They're the songs I end up listening to time and time again when I'm finishing a tough run, the songs that when they come on during an already-great effort make me turn up the speed and just fly, and songs that will forever be tied to a specific race and moment in time - the work that went into it, and the race itself, good or bad. For this Ironman, 3 songs really stood out, and one was Show Yourself. First off, the song is amazing and Idina Menzel is amazing, but also, from the very first time I listened to it I connected the lyrics so strongly to the idea of finishing an Ironman this year. And my favorite line: show yourself, step into your power. Grow yourself into something new...you are the one you've been waiting for all of your life, oh, show yourself, let me see who you are... As I listened to those words at mile 21 of a marathon in an Ironman, an Ironman that I was doing by myself without the lights and the crowds and the brand and the competition but simply because I wanted to see what I was made of, it really just brought everything home. Here I am, I've come so far... It was really just a moment and I felt every bit of the song - so strong and powerful and proud. At the top of the hill I texted Andrew. It was 5:54 pm. "4.5 miles to go. I think I'm gonna make it." And with that, one more deep breath, and I set out to complete the task before me, so many miles in the making. I would run it in. 

There's really not too much to say about the rest of the lap. The light was golden and magical, and I was running. It wasn't fast running; it was a run that many other versions of me would probably scoff at, but for mile 135+ of an Ironman it felt like flying. Each landmark passed one more time: the house with the unicorn balloon. The country club hill. The porta potty. The turn into the neighborhood. I wish I could say something more profound but I felt like my mind and my body had detached from each other. My body knew it did not want to continue but my mind kept saying just to that hill. Just to that house. Just a little longer, just a little more, don't listen to the lies that you're telling yourself that you can't, because they're wrong. That has always been the allure of Ironman for me; that it seems so entirely ridiculous and beyond the realm of what any normal human would attempt that you somehow know that what's going to see you through to the finish isn't just being physically strong enough to do it, it's also overcoming your mind and that rational part of your brain that says this is insane, this is not reasonable, we cannot continue to do this right now and find the part deeper down that says I don't give a shit what you think we can do right now, we're doing it. 

I came to the turn into the downhill; THE WINE RACK WAS GONE! I had a little moment of joy for whoever had decided that that wine rack fit perfectly into their decor. Downhill felt good, but still, hard. Everything was hard now, and I didn't care. 2 miles to go, and I would be an Ironman. When I think about these moments, the thing I remember the most is the light, just the most perfect golden light hitting the edges of the trees, the water, my face. I have always found golden hour to be the most magical part of the day (Andrew claims there's no such term and honestly I can't remember the first time I heard the phrase 'golden hour' but it's easy to picture: right before sunset, when the sun is slanting through the trees and just for a while, everything is bathed in gold). I kept running and kept thinking about the light, how beautiful the light was, and how completely lucky I was to be here in this moment and running in this glorious light. 

My dreamlike state was rudely interrupted by my watch, which abruptly bleeped a low battery warning and then, shortly thereafter, DIED. Is this a joke? I started to try to pull up Strava GPS on my phone and then was like, no. I know where the turnaround for the mile is, and I know that I'll do it. It was almost fitting that in this DIY race, even the timing was based only on the time on the clock when I started and finished. As I approached the boathouse lot, I heard what to my ears sounded like the biggest crowd I'd ever heard: all of my friends, plus Andrew, had gathered and were screaming, cowbelling, all there to bring me home. It was absolutely amazing. "ONE MORE MILE!" I shouted, waving my arms, and headed out into my final out and back, 139.6 miles down, one to go.

The screams of my friends faded away, and it was just me and the road and the golden light, one more step and then one more, then one more. My legs were just exhausted and yet at the same time I still felt strong. Still it seemed like the distance between me and the tree that was my turnaround point had expanded from half a mile to the circumference of the planet. The run out to the turnaround felt like it took FOREVER, as it always does when you're forced to run past your finish line before actually running towards it. But finally, here it was. I turned for home.

For whatever reason, I had always pictured finishing an Ironman to be this epic, bombastic thing - and who knows, maybe in the actual race setting, it is. I always pictured some massive surge of emotion and crying my way to the finish line. But there were no fireworks, no music, no crowds to hype, just me and the lake and the trees, looking to any passerby like I was just another runner enjoying a beautiful evening on the lake. It was such a quiet, personal joy that almost took me by surprise by how wonderful it felt. I had taken out my headphones now and was just running in silence, legs aching to be finished but mind almost wondering how it was possible that this could be over so soon. My watch was dead and I was running free, just allowing myself to savor the last few moments of this day and this gift that I had given myself. They say you never forget your first of any type of race, but especially the big ones, and no matter what I wanted to remember this feeling. I had earned an Ironman finish line, whether it was on red carpet in Madison or at the end of a driveway in Medford. No matter what, today was mine.

I made the final turn, 100 meters to go, and my cheer squad of 7 might as well have been 200 for the roar that went up. Cowbells and screams, a group of dog walkers staring and wondering what on earth was going on as I ran with everything I had left towards that chalk line on the ground. Arms waving, beaming smile on my face, and filled with love and gratitude for this sport and my friends and my life, I crossed that line, real or imaginary, and 12 minutes and 14 seconds later, I was an Ironman!

The best feeling. (Also thankful for friends who captured this moment via Instagram stories!) My favorite thing about these actual videos is one of my friends in the background yelling "HOLY SHIT YOU DID IT!!!"

After explaining to the dog walkers and another random passerby what ridiculousness I was up to, I proceeded to sit down on a rock while my friends milled around me being the amazing people that they are. I was eternally grateful to Aly and her husband, who offered to give me a ride home (poor Andrew had to drag the rest of my transition crap on his bike, I LOVE YOU HUN!) We all hung out and I just sort of basked in the glow of being finished as the sun began to set over the lake. Yes indeed, I had finished before sunset.

Top of the podium, smiles for days, and it's still light!

The best human

The BEST cheer squat (socially distanced obviously!)

My post race situation involved beer, a shower, eventually eating pizza (my stomach said no to anything except beer for ~3 hours post race) and basically pinching myself that I wasn't dreaming that I had just finished my first Ironman. I couldn't believe it. Not in the sense of I didn't believe I could physically accomplish this goal, because I always said I wouldn't start this race if I didn't think I could finish it. But all the other stuff: I couldn't believe that I had decided in 2008 that I'd do an Ironman in 2020, and then I actually was at a point in my life to sign up for my first Ironman in 2020, and it was going to be everything I ever dreamed, but then there was a global pandemic and the race was cancelled and despite that, I decided to put in the work and put in the planning and make this happen for myself. THAT is what I couldn't believe. That, and the fact that in my first shot at the distance I had managed to achieve every single one of my time based goals and had no major failures - it was like somehow I just knew that despite all the rest of the bullshit that 2020 has brought, that this day was meant to be amazing. 

I have a little postcard in the room where I ride my trainer that I got with some running shirt I ordered a bunch of years ago. It reads:

Not because you have to.

Not because you should.

Not because someone asked you to.

Only because you could.

When I was reading those words on my trainer back in January, I had absolutely no clue how true they would ring this year - I mean, come on, if you'd told any of us back in January that races wouldn't be happening from March onwards, we would have laughed! And some people ran amazing 5K PR time trials and some decided to explore new trails and some tackled crazy ultra challenges and others just ran for fun. And me? In 2020 I became an Ironman. Because I wanted to, and because I could. And it may not have been that red carpet capitol finish line I always pictured in my dreams, but I'll be damned if a boathouse parking lot with a faded chalk line on the ground wasn't even better. That being said? I cannot WAIT for IMWI 2021 :D

Ironman Mystic Lakes

12:14:xx (140.6 miles swim/bike/run)

1st overall, 1st female, 1st AG (that definitely qualifies me for Kona, right? ;) )