IRONMAN Goal? Happiest Athlete on the Course.

Right now are the Hell weeks-- the longest distances crunched as close as possible together while still avoiding injury. 
Longest ride so far: 104 miles.  
Longest run: 18 miles.  
Longest swim: 4,500 yards.  
Not very fast.  Not on the same day, but in the same week.  Twice.

My husband is fond of quoting someone who said, "If you love what you're doing, you'll never work a day in your life."  I get the point, but it's not always easy to agree.  Sometimes I forget to remember that Ironman training is a bizarre kind of play.  It is self-exploration.  It is pushing limits.  It is discovering who I am and what this 50 year old (almost) body can do, and what the mind can endure.  All while still remaining employed, homeschooling and caring for the boys, and washing enough laundry and dishes that we aren't running around naked and eating out of dog bowls.  Yet. 

Two years ago this month, I decided to complete an Ironman triathlon.  For those of you who are not familiar, it is a race including a 2.4 mile open water swim, 112 mile bike ride, and then a marathon (26.2 miles).  This was a personal challenge I had never before believed I was capable of achieving, and the task seemed tremendous-- though possible.  Maybe.

Ironman Chattanooga 70.3
this past May.

I've been swimming, biking, running, eating like a paleo pro, and otherwise preparing for this race for so long now that I cannot quite imagine it being over.  I've raced in five triathlons, lost 20 pounds of fat while gaining 5 pounds of muscle, and I've managed to avoid alienating my family (due to their amazing patience)!

My deadline looms: September 24, 2017 at 8:00 a.m.

And right now, one month out, I'm feeling like I might be able to complete this race.  It is my quiet hope that I will be strong enough to finish in 14 hours and without the need of the medical tent.  An even bigger goal?  To be the happiest athlete on the course.

My favorite inspiring swim coach:
my son John Robert

As my training has progressed, I haven't learned only about myself, but others as well.  I adore my cycling club family.  They are incredible people whom I would not otherwise have known.

Some of our beloved C4 club riders.

I am amazed at how supportive my family has been.  My husband has made himself my training partner.  He bought an upgraded wheelset for Spooky to increase our speed.  The boys have been champs about taking care of themselves while Mommy trains.  Denver was inspired to compete in triathlons.  Spencer is running cross country.  The boys are endlessly forgiving as I plop yet another pizza or Chick-fil-A bag on the table for dinner before stumbling upstairs to bed at 8pm.

Denver completed his second
triathlon this summer.

Life passes so quickly.  My eldest son is the same age I was when I first met my husband.  Where did that time go?  As the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years race by, I am ever grateful for this opportunity to pursue a dream, love a wonderful family, and see what I'm made of.  Today.  

Whatever IRONMAN holds in store for me one month from today, it is my goal to be a joyful athlete who is grateful for the wonderful and rare opportunity to chase a dream. 

Morgan County Aquatic Center, where I spend hours training
and thinking about the Tennessee River in September.

The Tennessee River in Chattanooga: Home of my IRONMAN.

Race Report: IRONMAN 70.3 Chattanooga

Spoiler Alert: I made it!

In the two weeks leading up to my first Ironman event, I had a root canal and a crown put on a molar.  This should not have been a big deal.  I've had both done before.  But this time, the pain was nearly unbearable for twelve days.  I couldn't eat any solid food of any kind.  Even liquid touching the tooth was uncomfortable.  So the good news is, I didn't gain any weight during the taper leading up to my Ironman. The bad news is, I also had difficulty exercising, and I was crazy with worry about loss of fitness.


A few days before the event, I was coming out of my skin with anxiety.  Worried about everything: What if I panic in the swim?!  What if my bike gets a flat or has a mechanical problem I cannot fix?  What if I get diarrhea during the half marathon (a gross, but quite possible occurrence).  

Prayer, yoga, and walking the dogs helped calm me a little.  Finally, an acquaintance said to me, "Just remember to be in the moment and enjoy it."  Ah!  Not a new thought, but a great reminder.  I thought of all the people who could not participate in this kind of event-- elderly and disabled people I knew.  I realized that this race was a celebration of life-- not really a "race" at all.  And then . . . strangely, I was happy and grateful instead of crazy with anxiety.  Well, my husband might still insist that I'm a bit crazy!

John and I drove to Chattanooga the morning before the event.  I was excited to see the Ironman Village and look at everyone and everything.  Despite the close to 3,000 participants, check-in ran smoothly.  I caught my breath a little as a friendly lady attached my blue IRONMAN 70.3 wristband.  I clutched my bag with the ankle band chip and numbers for my bike and helmet.  "My precious!," I giggled.  

It was difficult not to spend a fortune in the little shop of all things Ironman that we had to walk through in order to exit the check-in, but I managed.  It helps that we didn't have extra money to spend!  All of those items are crazy expensive, and I felt no need for memorabilia when I was about to make some awesome memories of my own.

John and I walked my bike to transition, and I got it all set up.  It was nearly 90 degrees, sunny, and humid.  It felt like Georgia.  I loved that we had our own number on the bike rack that made it very clear where to put my bike.  I also loved that we had volunteers to clarify which way to turn the bike (even numbers toward the river) and where exactly to put my stuff (directly under the bike). 

And then in the evening, the storms came.  I looked out our hotel window and the sideways rain and tremendous wind gusts shook the flag poles below me.  Lightening streaked and thunder exploded in my ears.  Across the street in other hotel windows, I saw other athletes looking in trepidation out their windows as well.  My poor bicycle!  She had never been left out in the rain before.  I should have put trash bags over the chain and pedals!  We weren't allowed to stage a rescue for her.  I wondered if the racks would fall over.  I wondered if anyone would make sure the bikes didn't blow away.  The forceful storms were predicted to last throughout the night and the next morning.  Would the swim be cancelled?  The bike and/or run course shortened?  These questions raced through my head, but I was already mentally fatigued from the excitement.  I decided I would only worry about things I could control.  I ate. I set out my gear for the next morning. I set my alarm and went to sleep.

3:30 is early.  I crawled out of bed and toward the coffee my dear husband had already made for me.  He knows I am chronically early for everything; so if transition opens at 4:30 am, then guess what? We're going to be out the door by 4:15!  He endured this without complaint.  

In retrospect, this was silly.  The swim didn't begin until 6:50 am, and it takes nearly an hour to get everyone in the water.  I could have slept until nearly 6am and still made it in plenty of time, even if I had walked to the start.  Also, there were MANY buses ready to take us the one mile upriver to the swim start.  I didn't need to worry about missing the bus.

After setting up my transition area, John and I got on a school bus which dropped us at the swim start.  We unloaded and walked past a line of porta potties.  I didn't need them at the moment.  It was 5am.  We had nearly two hours until the start.  John didn't say a word about how early we were or how long we were going to have to wait in line.  God bless him.

Already, the line for the swim start was long.  We took our place at the back (which later became the middle and then became the front), and I sat down and waited.  John went for a walk to scout the area.  The other athletes and I spoke with relief about the storms having already passed.  We were in for a cloudy day with no rain!  Now sleepiness nearly outweighed anxiety.  I listened to the people chatter around me as dawn emerged over the dark green Tennessee river and the skyline of Chattanooga with its many beautiful bridges.  

I had thought that once the gun went off, the timer started for all of us.  That was one reason I wanted to be early in line.  It turns out that my time didn't begin until I crossed the threshold to the swim. I needn't have hurried.  Additionally, we were supposed to line up according to expected swim times, with faster swimmers toward the front. Since I had no idea how many people were in front of or behind me, I didn't realize that I should have been further back in line.  I discovered the truth of this hours later when we all hit the water and everyone swam away!

One unfortunate and rarely mentioned truth of these big events is that there are not enough porta potties or trash cans for 3,000 athletes.  After waiting from 5 am until nearly 8 am to get in the water, there was a flutter of protein bar and GU wrappers everywhere.  Some people abandoned their flip-flops as our line progressed toward the water. Even more strange was the discovery that the road leading to the water was already wet.  How could that be?  We weren't in the water yet.  Oh . . . .  I realized with some horror that I was standing in pee.  Ironman pee. People around me talked about lots of things.  No one mentioned that we all had to use the bathroom and we were all wearing wetsuits that are famously difficult to get up and down and we were all too far away from too few porta potties.  Probably shouldn't have mentioned it.

Last year, I was terrified of the swim.  This year, I was not.  Once I framed the swim in terms of time-- just a 40 minute swim!-- I was completely at ease with it.  An additional bonus-- due to the heavy rain in the area, the Tennessee River had a current deemed too challenging, so the course was rerouted to be shorter and all downstream.  Woot!

When it was finally my turn, I scooted into the water from the dock as if I didn't want to get my hair wet.  I've never liked cold water, and this morning was no exception.  The wetsuit helped, of course, but I did have difficulty keeping my face in the water at first, and had to work very hard to exhale into the cold water.

Ready for the race.

I had expected the water to be as dirty as a Georgia lake.  Instead, it was cleaner.  I could see the length of my arm in the water.  I didn't swim into any logs or dead fish as I had feared.  I sang Old Man River as I found my stroke and made my way from buoy to buoy. There were a lot of people in the water and I did have to kick people off of me once and I got kicked once; but it was not overwhelming and I didn't panic.  I was out of the water in 22 minutes.

I LOVE the volunteers!  As we exited the river, they held my hand on the steps and as I was walk/jogging toward transition, a man unzipped my wetsuit for me.  I pulled it to my waist.  Another man pointed at me and then pointed to the blue outdoor carpeting he was standing on.  I plopped down, stuck my feet in the air, and he whipped that thing off like a pro.  The famous wetsuit strippers!  I laughed with delight as he handed me my wetsuit and I trotted up the hill and to my bike.

My husband was there cheering for me as I approached transition. We began what has become a tradition-- every time I see him during the race, we shout, "Celebrate!" and kiss.  It is wonderful.  He says the people around him always seem jealous!

Spooky is a house bicycle.  She was unaccustomed
to being left out in the rain; but she forgave me!

Going out on the bike course, I was excited and cold.  I was nervous about getting a penalty for drafting or becoming involved in a bicycle pile up.  I was afraid of the numerous potholes that could cause a wreck or at least a flat.  None of my fears materialized.

The course was beautiful.  The low clouds couldn't hide the beauty of the mountains around us.  There were fields of flowers and pastures with cattle and horses.  The female riders were particularly friendly, and we exchanged pleasantries as we passed one another: how beautiful the scenery, how lucky we are about the weather, and also, Watch out for the big hill!  And it was a HILL cleverly preceded by a downhill and a nearly 90 degree left turn.  I like hills, and I could handle it.  Unfortunately, others were not so prepared.  There were people standing in the middle of the road looking stunned.  Others were walking their bikes up the hill.  Most were just weaving wildly as they strained to find a lower gear.  I was grateful there was no oncoming traffic as I was forced into the other lane to get around them.

As the miles passed, I reminded myself to save energy for the run.  I had a moving time of 18 mph, which is a fine speed for me.  I avoided the aid stations, since I was carrying all my own food and drink.  I watched a few riders nearly wreck or cause wrecks as water bottles were dropped and rolled across the path of other riders.  I didn't want any part of it.  This is a fear I need to work on. I'll be needing those aid stations during the full Ironman this fall.

Traffic was light for most of the 56 mile ride, but began getting heavier in the last twenty miles.  I saw the faces and gestures of impatient drivers; and I knew that if not for the presence of police officers at every intersection, this could be a much more hazardous experience.

As I approached transition, I thanked Spooky for taking me safely through the bike portion of the race.  She did great!  I hopped off and trotted her to the bike rack.  I didn't feel any great urgency to start the half marathon.  There are so many people in the race-- 180 just in my age group!-- that I had no chance of winning.  This was a relief to me.  I could just enjoy!  

I slipped off my helmet and into my running shoes, put on my belt with my number, and ate an almond butter packet.  I shoved a couple more packets into my tri kit, and headed out on the run.  "Run and Done!," I thought optimistically.

I chatted with another athlete as the first couple of miles clicked by. I felt great; happy and relieved that it appeared I would finish without incident. But after four miles, I noticed I was slowing, and my stomach rejected the thought of fuel.  I heard other runners asking, is this your first loop or second?  That was hard to hear. TWO loops.  We passed signs that indicated I was either at mile three or mile eleven.  Ugh . . . Luckily, there were aid stations at every mile of the run.  I loved their best lie: "You look Great!" And what a wonderful idea to have everyone's name on their race bib.  Every time I heard, "Go, KIM!" it perked me up a little.  The miles passed.  

I found I couldn't eat anything, but I could sip water and pour ice water on myself.  That felt great.  I did that every mile or two. There were several hills on the run, and I am strong on hills, so I passed people there.  Many of them passed me back later.  I no longer cared about my place in the enormous pack, but I didn't want this run to turn into a death march.  

Eventually, I realized that it hurt as much to go slow as it did to run faster, so I encouraged myself to speed up.  I ended up averaging a 9:21 pace, which is a full minute behind my best half marathon pace.  I am okay with that, but I'm looking forward to some race pace training before the full Ironman in September.  Like all athletes, I fantasize about going faster.

As I approached the finish line, I stopped to give my hubby another celebration kiss.  I usually sprint hard toward the finish, and have been blessed with a weirdly ferocious sprint finish despite fatigue.  However, I had been told to try to give other athletes space so that each of us could have our own moment under the finisher's arch.  I slowed down to try to find a space for a separate finish.  Apparently, the old guys near me didn't get the memo, so I shared my finish with several others.  Oh well!

A happy moment, and then I found John.  We walked back to the hotel, chatting with a dear friend and his sons who had driven for hours just to see us.  I don't remember any of the conversation, as I was feeling a combination of euphoria and stomach upset.  We made it back to the hotel, and I realized I still felt pretty good!  I was tired, but I could walk without assistance (unlike some of my marathon finishes!).  The only downside was that I thought my time was really slow: the clock showed 6:41, which was about the same as my first race at this distance seven months earlier.  With all the hours of training, cooler weather, and shorter swim, I had hoped to break six hours.  Imagine my delight when I looked at my Garmin results and saw that my time was 5:41.  A full hour faster than last fall!  Some of that speed was due to the shorter, swift current swim; but still, I was still delighted.


Travel home was peaceful and joyous.  My dear husband drove the whole way and was very happy at what we had accomplished.  And it was a team effort.  I would never have done this without his encouragement, support, and companionship.  The euphoria lasted for days, followed by fatigue and chocolate.  Two recovery weeks of light workouts, and then I'll dig into training for my first full Ironman distance in September.  I can't wait!

My Favorite Motivational Quote:
I put it on my phone as a screensaver
and read it many times each day.

The Heart Wants What it Wants . . . and My Heart Wants an Ironman!

Me in my favorite triathlon trucker hat.
John Robert said, "Mom, trucker hats are for
truckers and young people.  Which one
do you think applies to you?"

I can't believe I've been swimming, biking, and running for 18 months. When I put myself on a two year plan until my first Ironman, it seemed so far away!  

Today, I have 48 days until Half Ironman Chattanooga and 174 days until my first Full Ironman!

I currently swim twice a week, up to 4,000 yards per session. I cycle 2-3 times per week, with a high of 75 miles per ride so far. Running is easiest-- I run 3-4 times per week, with a long run of 15 miles. Yoga and injury prevention exercises twice a week help keep my joints and muscles happy. My heart and mind are happy, too.  So far . . . So Good! 

Every once in a while you find a book
that helps you really make important
changes.  Thank you, Whole 30.

And though it may seem a minor thing, I'm pleased to have lost 12 pounds so far this year.  It took a lot of experimentation, but I finally found what works best for my body.  I have given up many of my formerly favorite foods, but I love feeling energetic, strong, and lean. Other side effects of my dietary changes have been: deeper sleep, better moods, healthier skin, and faster recovery after training.  Hurray!

But thoughts do cross my mind . . . These thoughts pull me out of bed early in the morning to do my training.  Am I ready? Am I strong enough?  I know I won't win . . . not even an age group award; but I want to finish well before the cutoff time.  I don't want to see DNF beside my name (Did Not Finish). 

An unexpected benefit of my training:
The boys volunteered with me at the Frosty 5K,
a run supported by members of my cycling group.

I'm tremendously grateful to my husband for being my support crew. He didn't know what he was in for when I first told him my dream.  He was thinking only of the ridiculous cost of Ironman events, not the major time commitment and support I would need. 

Denver and pals at a recent swim meet.

The journey to Ironman has had unintended benefits, too. My youngest son has become a dedicated and fast swimmer and triathlete. John Robert helped me learn to swim fearlessly in open water as I followed his steady, flawless stroke across the lake last summer.  

My incredibly strong eldest son
swimming anchor leg
in the 200m freestyle relay.

Spencer runs with me on occasion; more importantly, he is openly supportive of my goals.  My dear husband has begun biking with me nearly every Saturday. We've met some very nice people through our cycling group whom we might otherwise never have known.  All of these things are wonderful.

John and I riding the Arabia Mtn Trail last Saturday.
John only wanted to do 20, but didn't bring his GPS watch,
so I tricked him into riding 36!

However, I still don't know why Ironman calls to me.  It isn't anything I can explain-- even to myself.  Maybe that is how dreams are. They call to something so deep within our hearts that we cannot even name the source.  As Emily Dickenson wrote and Selena Gomez stole, "the heart wants what it wants...".

Denver enjoys wearing my medals
and imagining they are his!

Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive.  I could not chase my dreams without you!
Dad and Mom (who support me even when they don't approve!)
John (who knows the grouchy me)
Boys 1, 2, & 3
and bike man, Mike Besaw

Spencer and I ran the Cheerios Challenge
last year.  He and Denver are going
to do it again this year!

Denver learning from our bike man,
Mike Besaw, how to change a tire.

Finding your Courage and Expressing your Joy. Like the Hokey Pokey-- that's what it's All About

I survived my first triathlon season!

Guess what?  I really enjoy swimming now!

It has been over a year since I first set my sights on completing a triathlon.  I swam, biked, and ran all winter, spring, and summer.  I strength trained and continued my yoga and meditation practice.  

I did these things not because it helped solve any of the huge crises in the world. Crime was not reduced nor a single refugee protected by my endeavors.  And yet . . . 

I believe striving past perceived limits and achieving what you once thought was impossible IS in fact a small contribution to our world.  I believe trying new things, being willing to fail or embarrass oneself, being willing to try to achieve a dream is a worthy example for my children. 

Perhaps an even better example is the gentle persistence and sense of humor required when one is a relatively slow, middle aged lady who wants to be an Ironman.  

The world can be a scary place.  My advice is to spend less time watching the news, and to find a dream in your life's closet that has been hidden for too long.  Pull it out.  Dust it off.  Decide to risk it.  Be bold.

The lake I am not supposed to swim in.
But LOOK at it.  Wouldn't you?

Flying down the road on Spooky makes me laugh with joy.

Joy and Pain in the Half Iron Distance-- 1.2 Mile Swim, 56 Mile Bike, 13.1 Mile Run

Let me begin with JOY:

7:30 am.  Lake Tobesofkee, Macon, GA
First Attempt at the Half Iron Distance.

* Having a husband who happily takes two days off work, books the hotel, attends to your every need (and whim), and cheers for you all day!

* Swimming nearly a mile and a half in open water as the sun begins to rise over the hills surrounding Lake Tobesofkee.
* Realizing that you feel GOOD even if a great many people with your same color swim cap are WAY in front of you.

* Successfully mounting your bike while running!
* Sweeping past farmland, cattle, cotton fields, and sleepy horses as the sun grows brighter and the sky turns brilliant blue.
* Getting to say, "On your left!" to more than a few cyclists, and NOT getting a flat tire!
* Successfully grasping a water bottle from a volunteer as you roll by on your bicycle.
* Finally finishing that 56 mile ride!

* Beginning a half marathon in 90 degree heat and thinking, "Well, I'm almost done!"
* Aid stations every mile-- where you pour ice shamelessly down your tri suit (front and back).  "Aaahh!"
* Realizing you can put an ice water soaked rag on your head and feel marvelous . . . for about 2 minutes. 
* Giving thumbs up and "Way to go!" encouragement to your fellow sufferers . . . Ahem, triathletes.

* FINISH LINE  FINISH LINE  FINISH LINE!

And once all that is said, it is easy to forget the muscle cramps, saddle sores, and exhaustion that you lived with for 6+ hours on the day you did your first Half Iron Distance.

A Much Less Impressive Olympic Trial

I survived the swim!

After completing my first sprint triathlon on June fourth, my youngest son declared, "You're a Triathlete now!", but I embraced the label with some trepidation. Although the bike and run portions had gone well, I had clearly panicked during the 500 meter swim.  How would I ever complete a triathlon with a longer swim?

I'm still alive!!!

I practiced at Clearwater Lake.  It was all I could do to put my face in the water and swim freestyle for a few strokes.  My heart pounded in my chest.  I felt I couldn't breathe.  It was embarrassing to panic in what was clearly a safe environment for swimming-- no sharks, no jellyfish.  What was my problem?

I practiced at Hard Labor Creek Lake near our home.  Many times.  It got better.  It helped when my son swam with me the first time.  It helped when I swam with my triathlete friend, Amy.  I didn't get faster, but I stopped panicking . . . as much.

John's assignment was to keep an eye
on women's legs!  

The date of my first Olympic distance triathlon began at 4am with horrible nerves and the inability to eat.  By the time we arrived at the lake in Elberton, I had only 30 minutes before the start.  I insisted that John and I take a picture together.  The panicky voice inside me commented that it might be our last picture together.

Wading into the lake, I found a quiet spot off to the side.  Two laps around these buoys?  Surely I had misread!  It looked like at least a mile swim.  The announcer reminded us that we swim twice around the buoys.  Oh, gosh!  Okay, Okay, I thought.  I know my body can do it as long as I stay calm . . . as long as I stay calm . . . 

The gun went off and we were in.  For the first 60 seconds, I was swimming happily and thinking, "This is going just fine!", but then suddenly I couldn't breathe, my heart was racing, and I wanted to stop!  I swam with my head up and thought, "I can't do it.  I can't possibly do two laps around these buoys."  At that moment, the next gun went off for the next wave of swimmers.  I realized that I had only been in the water for THREE MINUTES.  Good Grief!

I told my brain to shut up, and I just started trying to swim.  No thinking.  Just swimming-- face out of the water mostly. I passed a few people.  I began to feel a little better.  By a half mile in, I was relaxed and thought maybe I could do it.  I worried about watching the buoys and keeping my strokes and breathing smooth and easy.  Speed wasn't a priority.  I began to swim as if I was in the pool.

Finally, after 1.14 miles, my hands touched sand and I stood and ran toward John and the bike.  I survived!

My husband's assignment had been to watch women's legs and let me know how many women in my age group are in front of me.  He shouted out the number as I trotted by, but I no longer cared.  I had done it.  I had overcome the panic and survived the swim.  I knew I could and would do it again.  I would (will) eventually become an Ironman.

Happy Cruising with Spooky

The rest of the race was a joy.  Spooky and I loved the 22 miles of rolling hills.  My legs transitioned smoothly to the run and I passed a lot of people during the 10K.  The finish was a downhill pleasure with John waiting at the end.

All of that, and second in my age group, too?! A great day.  Can't wait for the next one.

Running it in for second place in my age group.

Trying to Imagine

Sunrise and moonset over a lake as I began a recent run.

I've been reading a lot of posts lately from seemingly mortal women who have completed events I cannot yet imagine. Some are women who look like me.  

And yet . . . they imagined completing an Ironman and then they took the steps necessary to actually DO it-- a 2.4 mile swim in open water, 112 mile bike ride, and a 26.2 mile run all completed in under 17 hours.  Can you imagine?

My longest bike ride-- 60+ miles--
made easier with friends.

I am trying to imagine; and I think how great it must feel to be in that kind of physical shape; to have that kind of strength and endurance.  

Watch out, Ironman Chattanooga. I think I'm on my way.

My only marathon of the year--
I cannot yet imagine completing
26.2 miles after both a
 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike.

Must survive the swim!

For my Women for TRI peeps:
You inspire me.