The Sunday before the race was a 2.4-mile training swim in the waters of Kailua Bay.  The swim gave me a lot of confidence for the event swim.  Waters were calm and I could tell the salty water was different than any other ocean swim I have done.  Finished the practice swim in 1:32:32. I felt very strongly that this swim helped me on race day.  And it was fun hanging out with SuzE to watch the pros start, we saw Lucy Charlie-Barkley, Taylor Knibb, and Anne Haug.

I picked up my packet on Tuesday.  This was the earliest I have ever checked in for an Ironman.  But it gave me more time to organize my gear and ensure transition times would stay under ten minutes.  This race was unique because my helmet had to stay on my bike and my transition bags were smaller than other races.  So planning was essential to success.  At packet pick up, I visited with Cydney Thomson.  She too raced Kona.

Several mornings we would swim to the coffee boat or just swim to the buoys and back.  The morning I was heading to the Legacy Breakfast to meet other twelve-time Ironman finishers was also The Underpants Run.  It was going to be a crazy morning surrounding the venue, and I almost scratched my swim.  However, I am glad I didn’t, a surprise was waiting for me under the iconic banyan tree.  As we were rushing to the pier to swim, SuzE informed me she had invited a “friend” to swim.  The friend turned out to be Bryan McPherson, a fellow Legacy athlete from Huntsville.  He flew into Kona to surprise me and Cydney by being the best on course cheerleader in Kona history. 

Legacy breakfast was amazing!  It was hosted at Hulihe’e Palace which overlooks the swim course.  I would estimate there were over 50 other Legacy athletes there to meet each other and take selfies with previous champions.  I got to talk to a few of the champs.  The best conversation I had was with three-time Ironman World Champ, Craig Alexander.  He said, enjoy race day – everyone wants to be racing Kona, both athletes who have raced the legendary course and athletes still trying to make it to the Big Island.  He wishes he was still racing. He followed up with even a bad results day is a good day in Kona.  Thursday evening finished with the welcome banquet and athlete briefing.  It was very well done, and I learned a lot about the race course, but it finished past my bed time. 

Friday was the most chill day of the week.  No swimming or workouts, just rest and reflection.  I was ready for bike check-in.  More trips to the bike shop here in Kona than I care to talk about and two calls to Garmin support in the wee hours of the morning.  It was time to get ready and race.  I probably looked like the country bumkin visiting the city for the first time.  When I walked on the carpeted transition area it was magical.  My bike and bike helmet were tucked tightly into place and my transition bags hung carefully on their rack.  I walked the entire transition area to plan my route for race morning. 

Race morning arrived and my nerves didn’t hit me until CK dropped us off on Ali’I Drive for the short walk to transition.  The enormity of the race and all the checks and security could be overwhelming, but I had plenty of time to walk through, prep my bike and find quiet time.  I work hard on not getting caught up in the last-minute chaos of race morning.  I was lucky to have Casey, Karen, and SuzE working inside transition.  It is always nice to see friendly faces.  After I finished in transition, I walked to find King of the Sherpas, CK.  I handed everything off to him and put on my swim skin.  Water temperatures in Kona are always above wetsuit limits.  Morning water temperatures was 78°F.  Once I was ready, I had almost an hour before the pros started the race.

Pro start was at 6:45 AM.  I made friends in the swim staging area with two ladies from Great Britain and we chatted about Lucy Charles-Barkley and her potential of finally winning the race.  My heart swelled with emotion and pride when they sang our National Anthem and shortly after, the canon fired.  Now, I had 55 minutes until I started.  Being in the last wave does have its benefits.  I got to see the pros exit the water.  I was right at the top of the stairs when Lucy exited and then the second pack of swimmers almost 90 seconds behind her.  I was able to see Casey and Karen near the showers before I walked down the stairs to the water.  At the base of the stairs was SuzE working swim start.  I hugged her and made my last mental prep for the day ahead of me.

When I entered the water, I only had two minutes to cross the 100 meters and get to the buoy to start my wave.  From all the swimming prior to the race, I was calm and started with zero anxiousness when our horn blew.  The swim was fun.  There were more buoys out on race day than on the training swim.  I didn’t need to sight very much because of the number of swimmers and buoys made the swim easy.  There is a permanent Ironman marker at the turn around and it is marked with two massive boats.  The water seemed calm except for the thousands of ladies in the water.  Every athlete made the swim cut off.  One lady swam 2:19:41, she finished the race!

I jumped out of the water and started peeling off my swim skin.  I was excited to be finished and headed on the bike.  Changing tent was chaotic and I should have practiced putting on my tri top while wet.  I did my very best Chris Farley impression of “Fat Man in a Little Coat” while changing.  I pushed through and headed to Hawi.  From riding the course a few times, I knew getting to Hawi wasn’t the challenging part.  The challenging part would be navigating the head and crosswinds.  I allowed myself to look around from time to time and enjoy the majestic landscape of lava fields and the ocean line.  The most excitement for me was when I spotted the helicopter videoing the race leaders approaching me.  The lead car followed by Lucy Charles-Barkley passed, the ladies around me cheered.  I did tear up at the turn around in Hawi.  It was emotional but I still had miles to go until T2.

I finished the bike with a desire to run well for the remaining 26.2 miles.  I was encouraged to see so many friends scattered around the course and down Ali’I Drive.  They gave me an update on the Pro Women’s race, Lucy, Anne, Laura, Taylor, and Daniela were the top five women.  I was trying to manage my body temperature, but my stomach and gut also started rumbling.  I did ok through town and up Palani.  The wheels on the bus didn’t come completely off until I was in the energy lab.  It was nighttime and it still sucked.  The theme of the race was Holomua, “move forward” and that is what I had to do. Darkness engulfed me and the head lights of cars and from the runners’ headlamps made me feel dizzy.  I kept reminding myself to rally.  It didn’t matter if I had to walk some miles, I only had to finish and enjoy the day.  I reached into my bag of tricks and started making friends or encouraging the other ladies that were suffering as I was.  I talked to two ladies for a while, one named Hrefna from Iceland and another named Leslie from Chattanooga. 

As I approached the city, I did manage to do a little more running and a few less potty breaks.  I finally made it back to Palani and saw Chris Erickson and his girls, Maddie and Katie.  I was finally running when I turned on to Kuakini.  The rest of the gang was there with CK and I only had two more turns to the finish line.  And there it was, the most iconic finish line in the world for a triathlete.  The lights, the carpet, the cheering fans, the moment was mine.  The years of triathlon, the friends I had made along the way.  Knowing my friends and family where at home tracking and cheering or me.  It was time to savor the moment. 

I got into triathlon to get fit.  I learned along the way to be healthier.  That includes savoring moments like this with the people you love. I crossed the finish line and teared up in reflection of this year and this journey.  In the Ironman videos it appears like the finish line lasts for far longer than reality.  The volunteers who caught me were kind but whisked me away through a tunnel.  Interestingly, you must go through two or three checks before they give you your medal.  I guess they don’t want people passing out from the weight of the medal.  I didn’t have to worry with all the medical checks, I had two personal nurses to give me fluids at the rental house.  Nurse Maddie and Nurse Katie treated me with care like a loved one.  I even skipped the post-race food and massage to reunite with my friends and CK.  Shockingly, CK was more emotional than I was.  He has been an excellent sherpa and maybe now he can reflect on how far he has come too! 

Thanks to all that cheered form me, both on the island and back home!  I can’t wait to see you all and share more of my fantastic adventure.  Mahalo!

Twelve years ago, today, I tried starting this blog!  Imagine, this was before I knew what Facebook was and long before I ever thought Donald Trump as President of the United State was a terrible idea.  The blog ran really well for a while.  I became good at sharing my thoughts and feelings, but then I got busy.  It shuffled to the bottom of my to do list.  I did get busy doing things I could have shared as posts.  It could have made GraphiteFree a travel blog, race report blog, or political commentary.  

Many popular bloggers turned to vlogging.  Vloggers made millions on YouTube.  Then, Snap Chat & Tic Tock became the rage.  Why didn’t I catch the fever to do something more?  I guess I was swimming, biking, or running somewhere.  Oh, the bike distance for Ironman is 112 miles.  Get back on track!  Recently, I have wanted to share my opinion and feelings more than any other year.  Blame my rediscovered desire to share on my infatuation with Pete Buttigieg, the global pandemic, the George Floyd incident, or the recent presidential election.  I want to share my voice more.  My first post warned of political rants.  I didn’t deliver on that promise! 

On this the twelfth anniversary of GraphiteFree, I am recommitted to the cause of sharing my thoughts and feelings.  To show the world how committed to relaunching my blog I am posting this commando, which is an “inside joke” and refers back to my original post!  

And there will be more to come about twelve. 

Boo was “rescued” and taken to The Ark on October 31^st, 2004.  He was taken from the cruel streets of Five Points in Huntsville.  Where he had a family that didn’t realize how unique he was.  Why would anyone neglect such a special animal?  We were not anticipating looking for a dog until our house was complete and we had time for a puppy.  I opened an email from a co-worker who also volunteered at The Ark.  The moment I saw his eyes, I was hooked.  Since he had been found abandoned without a collar on the streets, he was a lost dog and there was a period time he had to spend at The Ark before he could be adopted.  On the very day he could be adopted we went to visit… He came home with us on November 6^th, 2004.  We were two weeks away from closing on our house.

He seemed like a normal pound puppy.  It would take a few years before his true super hero powers were seen.  At first, Boo gravitated toward me but Chris traveled a lot during the first few years with us.  I guess, Boo bonded with me more.  Boo became the most consistent thing in my daily life.  Wake up, feed the dog and go to work.  Come home, play with Boo and go to bed.  Boo loved playing with a red laser pointer we had.  He trained us well.  If he wanted to play with the “bug” he would act like the bug was on the ground to encourage play time.  He was spoiled only after a few months.

He was bright, well behaved most of the time and for the most part house trained.  However, he used urination as a way of expressing his displeasure with our behavior.  When Chris would leave, Boo peed through his crate on to the tile floor.  This would become a theme even after we trusted him outside of a crate.  To be fair, he peed on many of Chris’ office furniture.  He hated to be left alone for any reason.  He seemed more stressed out when I would leave.  He would cry, anxiously pace the floor and often chewed on the window blinds.  Days I went for a run, he would greet me at the front door with his nose implanted in the window as if he was doing research on the molecular make-up of glass.  Once home from anywhere he often would follow me anywhere, including the bathroom.  When his sight got bad, he would use his wicked sense of smell to follow me.  However, sometimes the trail looped around the kitchen and then into the bedroom, but I was already on the couch.  No matter, the goal was to find me and get as close to me as possible.

He was loved by many people.  I would take him to work at Space Camp and Aviation Challenge even though it was against the rules.  He was given the call sign Bernoulli from the staff my first summer at AC.  Each time I would take him to Aviation Challenge, his first piece of business was to do his business in front of the MiG by the rail cars.  I felt it was more of a political statement than anything else.  Boo opposed the godless commies of the Soviet Union.  And the MiG was a symbol of their Cold War regime.  But the ritual continued for many years.  And visiting camp continued even when I was at Cha-La-Kee.  However, visiting Cha-La-Kee was more rewarding for Boo.  He would get treats from the kitchen staff and rides on the pontoon boat.  Many campers wanted to love him, but Boo’s mission was clear.  Don’t get in the way of me finding food or RMO.

The trick he was most known for was sitting upright on the back legs like a prairie dog.  His first owners must have taught him that or it was simply a part of his DNA.  Boo would use this stance and his adorable eyes to beg hopelessly for food.  We tried not to give him human food after he OD’ed on Thanksgiving dinner just a few weeks after adopting him.  He loved parmesan cheese so much he would come to the kitchen anytime we opened the zip-lock bag.  We gave him just a little from time to time.  He became a cheese snob only liking freshly grated parmesan.  But his favorite treat was a greenie.  If left to his own wishes, he would ingest greenies like a chain smoker consumes Marlboro Reds.  Or a fat kid goes through Twinkies.

Growing up, I had dozens of great dogs.  From the black Doberman that rode in the truck with my father even before I was born to my first German Shepherd to the Christmas Dalmatian, Dottie and our blue Doberman, Scarlett, we had until I was in college; they were all outstanding creatures.  Often the dogs we have as children are the ones that leave the paw prints on our hearts.  For the most part Boo was an easy dog to love.  But he still loved me more.  I enjoyed his company and companionship especially while at home alone.  He went with me everywhere he could the last months of his life, but he couldn’t go to Chile with me.

Saying good bye to him has been more difficult than I imagined.  He wasn’t like your average pet.  He was fully integrated into my daily life.  He gave me just as much peace and comfort as I gave him.  Chris has taken videos of him crying when I would leave.  I naively thought I understood how Boo felt.  I was wrong.  Now, I am the one crying because he has left me.  He was just as much my comfort as I was his.  Good bye, my dear friend

A perfect example of this is astronaut Dr. Story Musgrave who holds a six pack of academic degrees. Story grew up on a farm, served as a military flight technician in the Korean War, worked as mathematician, earned his M.D., selected to be an astronaut during the Apollo program, flew on six Space Shuttle missions (having waited 26 years after becoming an astronaut) and worked for Disney as an Imagineer. I’ve heard Story described as someone who could do multiple tasks while playing chess and attempting to solve all the world’s problems… while flirting with a pretty girl.

Someone with that kind of brain power has to discipline themselves with focus… laser precision, come hell or high water, leave no man behind, gazelle like intensity focus. This would not describe me. I am laser focused on two things, BEER & PIZZA. I speak the truth. I do have focus on other tasks. However, the sure way to get me to laser intense in 1.67 seconds: simply tell me I can’t do something. I had a college professor tell me because I had a learning disability I could never been an educator. She was wrong. It takes focus to overcome poor spelling!

Another human in my life with laser intense focus is my triathlon buddy. She was a college athlete, turned Space Camp counselor, an outstanding classroom teacher, transcontinental cyclist, Boston Marathon qualifier, world traveler and four time top ten age group finisher in Ironman triathlons. Recently, I have described her as someone who doesn’t downsize her dreams. She has focus, serious, laser beam, focus! Accomplishing so much before the age of 31 takes focus!

I want, this is the type of focus . This fall while running the back roads of Madison County, Mississippi, I came to the realization that mentally I am the best version of myself while swimming, running or biking. I simply can’t focus on more than two things at one time. I am not the best version of me when multi-tasking. Maybe I was at one time, but not now.

In 2018, I will embark on a new adventure for me. I will spend more time with my family, tackle a few bucket list items and try to work on my focus. Since running the back roads of Mississippi I have attempted to meditate daily, learn a new language (Hablo un poco de español.) and working on my overall focus. Therefore, my word for 2018 will be FOCUS! In 2018, I will work on my focus in everything I do. Focus on my relationships, athletic endeavors, family matters and more… Focusing on keeping my blog post more regular is on the to do list!

The museum and gallery are on the fifth floor of an office building in Lake Mary, Florida. To visit you must make an appointment. It is perfect for school groups local to the area. There is even an activity center for students to learn more about the amazing assortment of products the Dixon Ticonderoga brand has to offer. If you are interested in a tour, please follow this link for details.

I am very thankful to have a relationship with the corporate office of Dixon Ticonderoga through a few social media conversations with Donna Cochran. Ms. Cochran is the Executive Assistant to the CEO of Dixon Ticonderoga and the Curator of the museum and art gallery. She was so thoughtful to give me time from her day to show me the artifacts and original works of art on display for the guests of the museum.

My favorite story was about the restoration of their Norman Rockwell painting. Rockwell had been contracted to produce three works of art for the Dixon Ticonderoga company. All three of the paintings were stolen from an office in New Jersey City, NJ. Authorities did recover one of Rockwell’s works, “Grandfather & Grandson”, which has been fully restored and is on display at the art gallery. Some of their art work had been mishandled through the years. With the new gallery and museum, it can be preserved for many generations to enjoy.

The museum and gallery is currently two rooms in size, however I am sure this is just a start for the Dixon Ticonderoga museum. The artifacts on display are rich with history. Not just pencils and crayons, there are marketing graphics, company stock shares from the early years, links to many pop culture and industrial innovations. The story of the Dixon Ticonderoga is a story of our American history. A company which began when our country was just a fledgling nation can teach us many things about who we are as a country. I learned that Ford Motor company contracted with the company to make coil boxes for the Model T. These boxes were original made to sell crayons to students. Crayons even flew aboard STS-87. Amazing to think of all the places a Dixon Ticonderoga product has been.

“Not so fast my friend”! I finished my tour by visiting the back offices, which included former ESPN analyst and Dixon Ticonderoga spokesmen, Lee Corso’s office. Many people think it is just coincidence that Corso holds a Dixon Ticonderoga pencil when on College Game Day. But Mr. Corso has been affiliated with the company for years. Mr. Corso wasn’t in, but it was a treat to visit his office.

Dixon Ticonderoga really makes the best pencils and they have great people working for them. I am thankful for my mom making me use them and love them years ago! I am also thank for the time I spent with Donna Cochran and the artifacts of the Dixon Ticonderoga National Museum and Fine Art Gallary.

The Hound Dog Half was renamed after last year’s race. Ludivine scampered out of her yard and joined the first running of the Elkmont 1/2 Marathon. The story made national news and put the small race on the map. Saturday morning the small townhall had a line of crazed runners out the door for packet pick-up. Ludivine greeted the runners. I was lucky enough to get a photo with the famous K-9. Ludivine was there for the start of the 13.1 mile race. However, she wouldn’t run this year. 

At the start of the race, Ludivine howled and moaned in sadness as the hundreds of runners started the rainy adventure. Poor dog! The runners started to chant, “let her run, let her run”. She is just a country dog, but now Ludivine is priceless to the community of Elkmont. No one would want to see the hound dog hurt. It was still sad to see her not run. 

The first mile the course passes an old cotton gin. Perfect small town race. This year, I noticed the community had added permanent road signs to mark the entire course and each mile was marked by a cute dog house sign. Super classy for a second year race! Even the Limestone County Sheriff’s Deputy protected the runners from a blonde golden retriever mix. Unlike Ludivine this dog didn’t like running.

Up and down we ran as the rain fell on us. I still made friends and chatted with people along the way despite the hilly terrain and dreary conditions. A covered bridge, an old church and all the wildlife and farm animals along the way made for a great but challenging run. A blood hound made this race famous, but the community made it first class. After I finished, I had a great bowl of chicken stew and chatted with the wonderful people of Elkmont. If you get a chance to run this charming course, please do… It is tough, but run it for the community of Elkmont. 

The first half of the race is challenging, but nothing special in comparison to many other trail races in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Twist and turns, ups and downs. I set a conservative pace but still pushed myself. Mountain Mist has strict cut off times. I didn’t want to lollygag and miss the fun at the end of the race. The first quarter of the race is mostly downhill. But the last quarter is mostly uphill, straight uphill. At mile 6.4 I was happy to see aid station #1 and friendly faces. I discarded my ski cap and gloves. The temperature was in the mid-thirties so I kept my sleeves for a bit longer.

Volunteers are an important role in any race. But seeing friendly faces who are kind and compassionate are vital in endurance sports. Volunteering is often more difficult and draining than people think. I am very thankful for those caring souls. I knew someone at each aid station. Jen Cox had her MSU cowbell on the course. She let me ring the darn thing! Volunteers are great. I make it a practice to volunteer for events like Mountain Mist to get the courage to sign up. Thanks friends!

By the time I arrived at mile 16.9, aid station #3 at Fearn Drive, I was fixating on time. I arrived roughly thirteen minutes before the cut off. Friendly faces hustled me through the aid station. Many Mountain Mist veterans advised me there is no loitering at aid stations. Relentless forward motion or I wouldn’t finish! A runner from Tennessee who hadn’t seen the course kept saying, “the back half is hard, how can it get harder”. I prayed for her and me as I shuffled along the trail.

I hadn’t run all the trails but I knew what was ahead of me and I had to keep trucking. Anytime I could keep pace with a fellow runner, I would take the companionship and conversation. It was gold to my mental state. Any helpful hints, words of encouragement or smiles along the way were valuable. The trails I had run were comforting. Just knowing where the heck I was meant a lot. Once I made it to aid station #4, I knew the hard part was approaching quickly. Time to get a handful of extra calories and water for the climb up Waterline.

Every scary story about Mountain Mist included the trek up Waterline. Waterline is more than trail running. Waterline is more than an incline. Waterline and the climbing up the side of a limestone gorge tha tfwill judge what a person is made of. Resilience and grit have been in my vocabulary, my mental fiber, my determined spirit for years. Climbing Waterline would put those ideas to test. Step by step, hand over hand and one foot over another, I inched my way up the monster incline. I focused intently on all the people above me. I convinced myself, that I would be where they were soon. And eventually, I was at the top and headed for the last big cutoff.

I was still trying to catch my breath and recover my legs as I approached aid station #5 at mile 25.1. I saw many friends and spectators anxiously waiting for their runner. It was like the baseball team from Field of Dreams coming out of the corn, but it was random people clad in Patagonia apparel appearing out of no where as I shuffled to the last major cutoff. People were throwing out time and distance to the aid station, but all I could do was shuffle. As soon as, I recognized the aid station and I heard the piercing sound of a horn. “WHAT DOES THIS MEAN”, I shouted frantically. The horn represented the fifteen minute mark until the six hour and thirty minute cutoff. I meander through the aid station, channeling the Little Engine that Could! I still had one good climb a head of me, then a sip of beer and a short jog to the finish line. I think I can… I think I can… I think I can!

Honestly, I didn’t have much steam left. I was doing well keeping a good pace, but after making the last major cut off I was like the work horse headed to the barn at the end of plowing the fields. The day was beautiful but long. All I could do was soak in what was left of the trail. I was on the McKay Hollow Trail. It was almost like I was home because I had more experience on this trail.

The closer I got, the more I reflected on the trail, the limited mud, the limestone and the monster climb. My physical and emotional fuel tank was empty. I knew at the top of the hill, I could enjoy a sip of beer and a few calories to help with the tired body. The added companionship of a local runner and a runner from Georgia would make the short run from aid station #6 and the finish line enjoyable.

All I wanted to do was finish, to endure. Mountain Mist is one of the toughest things I have ever done. I would stay it is much tougher than any obstacle, mud or trail run. Spartan and Tough Mudder races can not compare in toughness. I am sure if the trail condition were similar to past years, I wouldn’t have completed the 31 mile trek. Mountain Mist has been known for thick mud, rain, snow, sleet and extreme cold temperatures. The 2017 version of Mountain Mist had perfect conditions with warm temperatures and minimal mud. The conditions were great but the course was still the same… it was hard. I am thankful it wasn’t any harder. 

As I reflect, 2016 was like an Ironman Triathlon to me. In the first two months of the year, it was an easy swim. I started a new job at a camp, achieved a few certifications and attended a conference. Nothing too taxing at the time. I have been told I can swim all day long. I ran a few races at Disney World… Dopey Challenge, and then a local half marathon where a blood hound ran the whole course.

By the time March arrived, I had discovered that the camp I worked at was in need of major repair. This started the long miles on the bike. A constant churning at work to accomplish renovations and repairs was similar to riding 112 miles in the summer heat. I worked most everyday from March to August. I didn’t get everything completed before camp started. I compare that to not having a great swim to bike transition during a triathlon.

For the most part, I did a good job until June training for my actual Ironman event, IM Chattanooga. Once camp started the number one focus was the campers and their needs. That meant training stopped for me. I was chugging way with focused intensity on the work that needed to be done. Without mental toughness, I wouldn’t have made it through the summer or the events of late July.

While at camp in Guntersville, my mom called to report my nephew had been in a 4-wheeler accident. I scrambled to put things in place to leave camp. I relied on a great support team at camp to make this happen. They would have been my sherpas to continue the Ironman analogy. God is good all of the time, Rhett survived the 4-wheeler accident but he would have to recover from a brain injury. It took three months of hospital and rehabilitation before he could go home. He is good! And in many ways, I think my family is stronger because of the accident.

During Rhett’s recovery, I remembered there was an actual Ironman in September… I should start training again. Training is what I hadn’t been doing since June. It became the priority. No, I wouldn’t be at the top of my game. I hadn’t spent the long hours training during the summer. I would rely on my mental toughness to grit through IM Chatty. I trained in the time I had left but nothing I trained for could prepare me for the heat in Chattanooga during the event.  It was in the high 90’s during the entire day with a heat index over 120F. I needed to stay hydrated and keep my resiliency to cross the finish line.

I had a few more events during the last three months of the year, this would be the marathon of my year long Ironman. I gritted out a 15K, 2/3 of a half ironman, Bourbon Chase, Ironman Florida and a half marathon along with traveling to Iceland, turning 40, work and Christmas vacation. Mentally, I am tired after all of that.

The last day of 2016 brought one last event, a 50K. This would be a great finish line to my year long Ironman mental toughness extravaganza. Oh, I had a sinus infection just to add a level of difficulty to the simple 3 mile-loop course. Don’t worry, I know I can grit this out. I have mental toughness.

I think the only reason, I convinced myself to grit this race out, was because of a book I read. “Living with a SEAL”. In this book, billionaire Jesse Itzler, hires a former Navy SEAL and endurance athlete to live and train with him so he could conquer goals of his own. It is a book devoted to mental toughness and how to train your body not to quit. Looking at how I trained or didn’t train in 2016, I did things kind of backwards. I relied on my grit to get me out of foolish race events. I knew in my head, I could do two Ironman races in 41 days even if my body told me different.

Yes, I am mentally tough. But what if my body was just as tough as my brain. In the SEAL book there is a quote by the SEAL, Jesse calls it the 40% Law. “When you think you’re done, you’re only at 40% of what your body is capable of doing. That’s just the limit we put on ourselves”.  If I complete most everything I do on limited training and my mental strength, what if focused more on training than ever before. I ask what is the goal… gutting things out with mental toughness or bettering myself?

Pre-Race

I woke up just a few minutes before my alarm clock at 3:56 AM. I quickly dressed and got ready for the long day ahead of me. Nothing was out of the ordinary for me other than I was doing my first full distance triathlon somewhere other than Chattanooga, TN. This meant a drive to the race location not a walk down the street. No worries, it was just about two miles up the beach. Body marking was fantastic! There was a guy who proudly proclaimed good penmanship. He was correct, he marked me perfectly with fantastic handwriting. Good start to the day!

Only thing I struggled with before the race was just not knowing certain things. No one felt the need to line up at the start line, because it was a rolling start. Everyone just wandered around during the hours before the start. I like structure and this was a little unnerving for me. As the sun started rising, I saw people headed toward the beach. Once I was on the beach, I was much calmer.

Swim

The water temperature for the race was 75.7 degrees. This was a wet suit legal race, but I opted out of wearing my wet suit. I feel like I swim better without my wet suit. Yes, there is a buoyancy advantage with a wet suit… but I was in salt water. For me, it was the best thing. I felt good in the swim and at times got a little hot.

The water was calm but the swimmers around me were violent. Pushing, shoving, kicking and elbowing. At one point, I thought it was MMA swimming not triathlon swimming. However, I did enjoy the swim. I saw glowing plankton, a jellyfish, two horseshoe crabs and a whole school of fish. I wonder what the fish think of all the triathletes swimming around them. Do you think they say, “Look, a school of humans”!!!  I am sure the fish are not as excited to see me as I am to see them.

I finished the swim in 1:37:23 which was a little slow for me. I didn’t like the two lap swim. I didn’t like getting out of the water and walking on the beach. I thought there was going to be a run/jog back up the beach to the swim start. NOPE… everyone was single file like little ants marching up be beach. There was just more walking than I wanted. I knew my swim would be longer than Chatty, DUH. However, I wasn’t happy with my time.

Bike

Transition was really good. It was a larger transition area to run through than other triathlons, but the changing area was the hotel convention hall! This was very nice compared to the changing tent at Chatty. I put my bike gear on, nutrition set and headed out for 112 magical miles. I say magical because it was only 112 miles in comparison to Chatty’s 116 mile course.

The first few miles were down the coast line where we road between large high rise hotels and other tourist attractions. At this point we had a crosswind, but shortly that would turn into a significant head wind. Wind would be the main storyline for most all of the athletes. Countless cyclist would pass me and comment on the wind. My hope was, if I had a head wind, I had to have a tail wind at some point on the course. I would keep an eye on all the flags along the course waiting for the wind to turn in my favor.

So many great and kindhearted triathletes. You don’t have a great deal of time to chat when cycling, but so many words of encouragement along the way. The volunteers and police officers kept us safe! I felt like the way they controlled traffic and directed us through turns and lane changes was fantastic. There was so many locals who came out to cheer the athletes throughout the day. This was top notch.

The course was pretty much flat, but there were some small up and downs. It was an enjoyable course for the most part. When I was headed back toward T2 and finally had that tailwind, an athlete passed me. He was such a nice guy. He told me I was a strong cyclist and shared how difficult it was for him to get out of T1 because of his extreme sea sickness after the 2.4 mile swim. I was encouraged by his compliment. I also felt good because if he could overcome sea sickness, I could over come the strong winds on the bike.

I rolled into T2 with a bike time of 6:35:10. My mind and gear needed to quickly convert to the 26.2 miles ahead of me. Each time I dismount from an Ironman bike, I thank God for safely getting me through the discipline without mechanical failure or some type of collision.

Run

The first few miles were difficult because my Achilles tendon was very tight and pushed pain all the way into my calf. But as soon as I loosened my lower leg up, the pain was gone. I had everything I needed. My hydration and my nutrition seemed to be dialed in early in the run. I even had my socks just like I liked them. Everything was great, especially the crowd support on the run course. I even enjoyed running through the state park at the far end of the run course loop. Running along the sand dunes reminded me of Big Sur, just not as epic!

Heading back to the transition area and the special needs stop, I did something STUPID! I took the top off of my water bottle to fill it up with ice water. Seemed like a great plan. However, when I discarded the empty cups, I discarded the top to my water bottle. I quickly had to figure out what I would do from mile twelve to the finish line. I emptied the pouch and pockets on my water bottle, drank all of the contents and handed to CK the Sherpa. I discarded the bottle and the negative thoughts about how I could do something so stupid. I told myself, I would just walk the water station and beyond to get the water I needed.

Sadly, I didn’t have the Super Pack there to run with on my second loop. I ran the majority of the run all alone. It was tough, but I did make friends with a runner wearing an University of Alabama jersey. He and I chatted about the LSU / Alabama game that was low scoring and nerve racking. Our favorite aid station, had a football score board and a platoon of Young Marines. “Ma’am here is your water ma’am”! “Thank you, ma’am for allowing me to serve you ma’am”. These were just a couple of examples of the chatter I heard as I ran through the station. It was amazing. Little did they know at one point in time, I decamped over a dozen Young Marines at Aviation Challenge. 

The second loop was very dark. I wished I had run with a head lamp. Running through the state park was extra dark and the pavement was uneven. With each step, the finish line was closer. The crowd at the finish line was large and very loud. Crossing the finish line with a marathon time of 5:36:55 was a little emotional, especially since this was my second Ironman in 6 weeks. I was very surprised to see one of the Super Pack at the finish line volunteering as a catcher. Kelsey was was there and recognized me. Not too shocking, I did have the exact same gear on in Florida as I did in Chattanooga. I gave her a sweaty hug and then tried to find my people.

I was proud of my 14:01:56 time. Ironman is emotional and bigger than just one person. After finishing, I joined CK and my Space Camp friend Mare! She drove over from Destin to cheer for me and hang out with CK. It was humbling to know that someone I only kept up with on Facebook would be there for me at the finish line. But then again, so many people were there with me at the finish line. There were people watching the live coverage, following on social media posts or checking my location on the worthless Beacon application. No matter what, long distance triathlon is a team sport. My team is made of my Father in heaven, my friends & family encouraging me and the red head who is swimming with jelly fish, peddling her bicycle and running like crazy through the night.