Life is short. You hear this all the time. If you’re like me, you think about it for a few moments and then you’re rushing off somewhere and it’s too soon forgotten.

In February I was at my annual check up with my oncologist. Sitting in the waiting room I saw a familiar blonde headed girl. I saw her husband sitting next to her and immediately knew her husband was the reason for their visit. It’s the one place you DON’T want to run into anyone you know. I found out he had been diagnosed with lung cancer in November. Within months he was in the last few days of his battle, fighting a hard, good fight. Last night we paid our respects to a wonderful man and tried our best to comfort his amazingly strong wife. I was surprised to see a smile on Sabrina’s face at times, I was inspired by her strength, I know it was her gratitude of people coming to celebrate Jim’s life and support her. Jim was a kind and caring man and I know he is at rest now. I pray for comfort for his wife. He was only 36. If you want to help support his wife, you can visit their site.

As Brian and I drove out to Fortville for the viewing, we drove along a lot of the roads I ride when I’m gone for hours. In a small way it was a chance to bring my good friend along on my journey to Ironman. 

Like two kids bored only days into summer, we have both been really bored and feel like we need to be doing different things. When we hang out we usually go to dinner, the same old chain restaurants. We usually rent movies or watch tv. Very much in a rut. So we decided to start our summer of doing things different last night in honor of Jim and his life. We went to a small town diner and talked about the projects we worked on with Jim as part of the Jaycees.

On the way home I found myself driving more of my bike route. Then it hit me “holy shit, I’m a cyclist!” I knew this because at that moment, I was longing for my bike, to be in the saddle, hugging the curves of the road.

We drove in silence, taking in the music and the cornfields. The sunset was beautiful. It was a perfect evening for a drive in the country. Ordinarily we would have gone straight home from dinner, watched tv, then I would leave so I could get to bed and prepare for the next day. But tonight we just savored the evening. We then started car dancing and laughing. I felt so alive in such a simple moment.

On this 50 mile drive, following my bike route through Cicero, Morse and then downtown Noblesville we found several places we wanted to visit. Small diners and dives. We passed a playhouse and both commented that when we drive by we both think “I want to see a play there sometime.” Brian laughed, it’s funny what we learn when we communicate. So our “we’re bored” summer list has grown with lots of things to do.

I realize that life is all about choices. Find the silver lining in a cloud. Take inventory of your gratitude and spend more time celebrating that than being angry. We all have a choice to be happy in any situation. Just like Sabrina’s smile during probably one of the most difficult times in her life. It was extremely sad to say goodbye to Jim last night, however, the silver lining was the evening helped me to see that life really is short and you can’t let “life” get in the way of living.

As I drove back to my house the song “Send me on my Way” came on and I thought what perfect timing. Bless you Jim, you’re on your way.

“Have fun at the race tonight” “U want to run? We have an extra bib” “I’d fucking kill myself on a trail run, but thanks”

Trail runs and I don’t mix. At least I don’t think. I’m clumsy. I didn’t really get to run much of the 5K that morning as one of the guys was having knee issues, so I was still itching to get a run in. Some people were doing the quarter marathon trail run. 6.55 miles, that wouldn’t be bad.

“Could I do the quarter marathon?” “Yes, you can even walk it. Mental toughness for IMAZ” and with that I was in.

It was cold as balls last night. It was dark and the trails were snowy. It was my first race with a headlamp. It really had disaster written all over it. After all I’ve been known to fall over in the snow, landing on my hands and knees. Hell, I even fell over one day just standing. I shifted my weight in new shoes and BOOM! I went right over. Like a tree in the forest.

The quarter marathoners go first. The first quarter of a mile in isn’t so bad. The sun is setting, I’m in the trees watching it reflect off the snow, it’s cold and quiet. Then I hit the trail that’s a single file path, the packed snow is starting to to get icy from being packed down, the trail twists and turns just inches away from the drop off into the water. That was about enough to get me to back track, but I kept going.

It’s now dark and here come the half marathoners behind me. There’s not enough room to run two wide, they’re now on me like a heard of gazelles going after the injured pray. I step off the course and let them all pass by wishing them good luck.

There goes Robert and then Marti and Chris and then Andy. I’m a little over a mile in and I know the marathoners are hot on my trail. There goes Joey. Everyone asks how it is, I give the same reply each time, “I fucking hate this.”

Finally, I’m alone as I head to the middle of the reservoir across the gravel and out of the woods. Across the water I can see all the headlights in a line winding their way through the woods. I have to admit it was pretty cool to watch. I actually am enjoying the race at this point.

Back to the woods and reality sets back in, I fucking hate this. I’m realizing a trail run is a terrible idea for someone who usually shuffles as they run. At this point my arches are burning, my hip flexor in my right leg is hurting so bad I can barely life my leg up. I’m crying tears of frustration, I want to run but can’t. I pass mile marker 4 and realize that my watch is showing me .35 miles ahead of the markers. Goddamnit. I totally want this to be over and I’m further away from the finish than I thought.

About mile 4.5 I’m about to get lapped by the half winners. I feel frustrated and embarrassed and then think who fucking cares, it’s about me, not them. I just don’t want to get lapped by my friends. hahahha

There’s a series down trees that are pretty high and can’t be walked over. At this point I’m having to lift my right leg up with my hands to get it over as my hip flexor is screaming “fuck you” as much as my head is screaming “I fucking hate this.”

There’s a bridge that ends with a 45 degree angle down. At least 10 people in front of me bite it. At this point I’ve been happy I haven’t fallen, and now I’m afraid I can’t avoid it. I wait until there’s no light behind me to make my way. I am 10 inches from making it off and I hit ice, slip and twist my right knee. My leg flips behind me and my head thuds against the ground so hard my headlamp flies off. I hear “Chrissy are you okay?” Of fucking course someone who knows me saw bite it. It was a nice friend of a friend, he offered to help me up, but I just needed a minute to regroup.

I get up and my leg is hurting, but it’s also pretty frozen after being in the woods for 2 hours, so I’m not sure the depth of the damage. I can walk on it, but it hurts so I limp my way in. 1 mile left and it was the longest mile ever. Fear set in and I started crying hysterically. Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have done this, that feeling in my stomach it was a bad idea. Have I fucked up my knee bad? What if this takes me out of training and I can’t do IMAZ.

Robert comes up behind me and gives me a hug and then some tough love. “You’re walking on it, it’s going to be okay.” I tell Robert to go ahead and he finishes. Then he comes back to walk to the finish with me, guiding me down the large steps, for which I’m grateful.

My friends in the car talk me off the cliff about my leg being fucked up and help bandage up my bloody knee.

This race was a dumb idea. I’m not brave and adventurous enough to do shit like this. I’m not athletic enough. For the first time I actually thought about trying to find a short cut to finish. But in the middle of the dark woods, that would be a double fucking dumb idea. At the 2nd aid station I thought about asking to get a ride back. Then I woke up and was like wtf. Pretend this is the last few miles of the Ironman and you gotta pull your shit together to get to the finish.

I haven’t cried tears of frustration and embarrassment in a race in a LONG time. I felt like a complete pussy, BUT I realized how far I’ve come. And how much further I still have to go.

I saw all these posts about how some people loved last night. I got bummed out wishing I would have liked it more. Then I realized I don’t have to like everything I try. I remembered I don’t have to like what other people like. Like a friend said, I tried it, don’t like it so now I can focus on what I like.

I don’t see anything as a failure if I learned something.

I woke up with a little bruising, a nice gash and some swelling. I was on my bike this morning for 90 minutes and then another hour this afternoon, so I guess I’m not so much of a pussy after all. Maybe in a few days I can get into my car without picking up my leg to get in…

Last Monday I got caught up at work, then stuck in traffic and was going to be horribly late to cycle so I switched to Tuesday. As I sat at home relaxing for once on a week night it sunk in.

All the doubt and question. Why the fuck am I doing this? No one at work cares if I’m an Ironman. None of my friends care if I’m an Ironman, and quite honestly, I think some of them would prefer I did stop training for this. My family isn’t going to love me any differently.

Luckily instead of sitting in this self created shit storm, I decided to reach out a friend that is an Ironman. I asked her why the fuck am I doing this? All she replied with was her experience at the finish line. It all clicked back into sync. Oh yeah idiot, you’re doing this for yourself. NO. ONE. ELSE.

So they say right when you’re ready to give up you have a breakthrough, so keep going. In class the next day, I killed the workout. Two days later on Thursday, I killed it again. My instructor decided I need to do a Time Trial (TT) a few weeks ahead of the class because I had improved so much in 7 weeks. He mentioned he thought I might set a record for improvement in that sort of time. Talk about breakthrough!

Just a few weeks ago I couldn’t get comfortable in the saddle, and kept shifting around. I would have burst of power and energy but would cringe at the words active recovery, because on my rest, I wanted to do that, stop and rest. And now I’m settling in quickly to the class, putting out consistent power and able to push the bar higher each time. Now I’m pumped to take feeling of improvement and get my ass into the pool, because my swim will get better. And get more into my long runs, because they’ll get easier.

They also say after a breakthrough comes great catastrophe. So I won’t say it was a great catastrophe, but it’s been frustrating. I woke up the morning of my TT with a terrible, deep cough and painful sore throat. I’ve been telling the BOMF guys all week not to run if it’s below their neck, so I need to follow my own advice. And here I am 4 days since my last activity and I’m fucking BORED out of my mind. I’m nervous that I’m losing fitness and power during my forced break.

Being bored gives me a lot of time in my own head. I sit here being jealous of every one’s long rides and runs showing up all over Facebook today. So I decided to clean. As I was cleaning I started to fear what my life will be like on the other side of Ironman. I’ve strived my entire adult life to be a well-rounded person with diverse interests and activities. I cannot let the greatest challenge of my life be the only thing that defines me.

So as I started the day bitter that my higher power decided to give me a mandatory time out, I find myself winding down the day grateful. I’m not sure how I keep the Ironman from being my only focus, because I do spend so much time on it, but it will hopefully allow me to manage ups and downs a little better. I’m glad I’m thinking about my life post Ironman now instead of being blindsided and devastated in November, not knowing what the fuck I’m going to do the next morning when I wake up.

Not to mention the lower level of my house no longer look like an episode of horders!

I find that when I ask someone if they’re happy, I usually get a “yes, but…” With advances in technology, science and overall quality of life, seems like we’re always wanting something more.

I had a friend tell me “you made such an amazing transformation in 2012.” That statement really caused me to stop and reflect. I thought about the last year and realized that I’m not really any different physically. I’m still short, still very overweight, more in debt, not any closer to being married.

But then I really looked deeper. I AM different. My mental health is the best its ever been. My relationship with others are dynamic and rich. I’M HAPPY WITH NO BUTS.

Do I wish I was skinnier, less in debt, more successful at work, in a romantic relationship? Sure. Does any of this define my happiness? For the first time in my life, I can honestly answer NO.

This past year I really took care of myself and put myself first. I had a year with less resentments and more gratitude. Not everything fell into place or went my way, I had a lot of let down, heartbreak and frustrations. But I knew I could choose happiness in any situation. Making myself happy is an inside job, and I fully embraced that in 2012, I can’t expect anything or anyone to make me happy. People, things and experiences can only enhance my core state of happiness.

I know I’m doing what I need to to improve the areas of my life that I’m not satisfied with. Every day I try to work on those areas a little bit more. I’m trusting in a higher power and doing the leg work for improvements. I’m so grateful that my friend made this observation and shared it with me, because the reflection has been powerful.

2013 is going to be even better, I can just feel it.

This blog is dedicated to my dad as I didn’t use a SINGLE curse word. I can’t fucking believe it. whoops…

• Computrainer is WORTH EVERY PENNY!!! I dread going because I know it’s an ass kicking, I leave feeling strong like a motherfuckin’ ox. I cleared 22 miles in 1:18. My first sprint tri in 2011 it took me 56 minutes to go 10 miles. I’m faster and stronger. and there’s still 11 months to go before race day! (disclaimer: my bike is definitely better than the ’11 one)
• The last mile before the turnaround on the course is a challenge. It’s not flat. In fact the last 4 or 5 miles is a false flat.
• Like a bad case of herpes (so I’ve heard), the wind can flare up outta no where.
• It’s dry. It’s been 10 years since I’ve lived here and I forgot how dry it is. My entire nasal system is dry (how does my nose then drip like a faucet??) and my lips get dry. Pack lots of aquaphore, check.

I ran over to Ohio with my friend Marti to cheer her on in a cyclocross race. (by ran I mean we drove hellof fast in a soccer mom minivan) After watching her badass bike moves on the course we headed our adventure back home. I must say I find this style of racing intriguing, but I will wait until after IMAZ to give it a whirl. Not to mention slinging my ham hock thighs over the bike frame to hurl myself up muddy hills would be quite a challenge on its own.

After a short adventure at the Griswold style cut your own Christmas tree farm and a tasty lunch at a local Cracker Barrel wanna be dairy we got into a conversation about massages. I recalled my trip to Hong Kong in 2006 and got a in-room massage after a long 29 hour trip. The tiny little lady that showed at my door was practically dropping from the ceiling jamming her elbows into my back. I was screaming in pain into the pillow and ever so grateful when the 30 minutes was up.

So this afternoon I went in for my massage as I decided to try Massage Envy. I had another tiny Chinese woman give me a great massage, she did a great job of readjusting her pressure based on my reactions to the discomfort. I must say I really miss the days of when a massage meant a wonderful, relaxing experience which usually included a nap. She tells me that the muscle running on the outside of my shin bone is the tightest she’s ever felt, no wonder my ankle was a hot mess a few weeks ago. She rubbed my lower back and it felt like she was rubbing bone, but it was a fucking tight muscle. She slowly worked it out and I was happy to find someone who was able to give me a deep tissue massage with the all the effectiveness without bringing me to tears of pain.

Then, the craziest thing happened. No, not that Gary, get your head out of the gutter. She climbed up on the table and started using her knees to massage my glutes (ass for those that don’t know…) WTF. I was dumb founded and surprisingly amazed/embarrassed at how well it worked. Then she stands up and uses one heel of her foot to dig into my hamstrings. Double WTF. Sister has some good balance, was she in Cirque du Soleil?? (good thing I googled that first, I’ve been spelling it wrong all these years) Isn’t this the shit that happens in movies?

It was weird, but nearly as weird as creepy Vicky at LTF and so fucking effective, so I rebooked. I guess I can live with weirdness if it works as foam rolling was SO much less painful tonight.

time to go decorate my tree so my ornament isn’t alone on the tree

IMAZ is less than a year away. I’ve really embraced my training and have done more in the last four weeks than I think I did all last season. After reviewing my training “plan” I built from last year with people, the common reply was “how did you finish??” Which I said “fuck if I know!”

Ima. Half. Ironman.

Cedar Point 70.3 has come and gone and I’m still standing to tell about it. It was by far the most challenging day in my life. Yet, it is the most rewarding feeling and I still stop to pinch myself because I can’t believe that I carried myself 70.3 miles. I didn’t have to crawl or quit.

The morning started early as every triathlon morning does. Our bikes had to be racked the night before so I just had to set up transition and I was ready. I had printed and laminated a picture of Joe and I to put on my bike and carry on the run, I was going to look at it whenever I needed a boost or felt like I couldn’t go on. By the time I got to set up the picture was gone. I was upset, but Marti told me, that’s Joe’s way of saying “You got this” with his signature laugh and smile. They were right, I did have this.

Swim
The water temp was 74.5, so about 95% of the field wore wetsuits. After my terrible swim in Chicago I decided to forgo the rubber suit of hell. As I walked around the swimmers I got the look. The look of “she’s REALLY going to do this?” It still really blows my mind how much people can show their judgment on their faces; I like to believe they just don’t realize it. Swimming in Lake Erie is hands down better than Lake Michigan off the shore of Chicago. The water is shallow so we had to start about 100 yards out and you had to walk for about 100 yards after the start. The water was really too shallow for dolphin dives, but too shallow to run, really quit annoying. The currents going out were pretty bad, I thought I was never going to get to the orange buoy; (orange is turn, yellow is sighting) as I was swimming out the first leg the song “you’re not alone” was in my head because I felt like I was alone in the water. The course was in the shape of a triangle, so the second leg was parallel to the shore, that swim wasn’t too bad. I didn’t have a song stuck in my head, just kept saying, “just don’t drown.” The last leg was into shore with the tides bringing you back but it seemed to take a while too. As soon as I turned to make my way to shore the song “I’m coming home” was playing my head. I really am my own jukebox; I don’t even listen to either song. I was so relieved to see the water get lighter which meant it was more shallow and I was getting closer. A cramp set in my left foot that hurt like a bitch so as soon as I could stand I did to stretch the fucker out. I heard a collective “SWIM” from Andrea and Marti on shore so I dropped and swam. They laughed after how quickly I listened and dropped. Getting out of the swim I couldn’t focus on anything and felt like I was coming out of a bar after a night of drinking but made my way to T1 where my bike was one of the few left 😦 I was in the last wave and it took me about an hour to swim 1.2 miles.

Bike
Since I was one of the last out onto the bike course it was like I was riding alone. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve spent most of the season out on the course alone at the end of the pack. I’m used to it. While it bothers me that I’m that slow, it doesn’t bother me enough to impact my performance. The first half is pretty flat with some rollers until you get to about mile 20 where you hit a fun set of hills. There was one where I was going 5mph up the hill. As I was coming into mile 15 I started to see all my teammates come back to finish the bike; I made sure to cheer for everyone, even if I couldn’t tell who they were as they whizzed by me (everyone looks the same in a helmet and I haven’t learned everyone’s bikes yet). About mile 25 is where it happened.

I look down, 12mph. Fuck. again 10mph. FUCK. 8.7 MPH FUCKFUCKITYFUCKFUCKFUCK. My first true bonk on the bike. Damn it. This part of the course is small rollers so I decide I need to get off the bike to rest a minute. I was going to lay in the grass and stretch but I didn’t want the other bikers (full iron distance loops twice) to think I was dead and stop. (Triathletes are pretty considerate of each other.) I get off and stretch while holding onto my bike and take a unscheduled gel (good thing I learned early on to bring extra!) and some water. I get back on and manage 15 mph for most of the ride. I even find times where I’m back up to 21 mph so I’m not going to complain. I found myself starting to think “so and so is off the bike, so and so is probably close to finishing” and I decided to shut those voices out. It was MY race. The goal was to finish, so shut the fucking committee in your head off and just finish.Around mile 50 I realize I’m about 18 miles away from becoming a half ironman. I immediately start bawling with tears of pride. Sausage is doing this. I’m really doing this.

Run
I saw some of my T3 teammates with medals around their necks as they cheered me onto the run. I was so proud that they had finished, I knew some of them had taken home age group awards. I passed many friends making their way back as I was just starting. Normally I’d let this bother me, but no damnit, it was MY race. This was my mantra during the run. I had fun cheering everyone on that I passed. Giving words of encouragement to those who were finishing the half “There’s a huge party at the finish waiting for you!” and to those who were only on loop 1 of 2 for the full 140.6 distance. I had a pro female pat me on the back as she ran by and said “you rock.” I had another male pro tell me “You are such an inspiration to everyone out here” and yet another guy say “You are my inspiration to finish this. I couldn’t stop crying on the run. It was a very emotional experience for me. I was thinking of everything that had changed in my life, everything I had sacrificed to get to this moment. I thought about the person that doubted me when I went to run my first half marathon. Between all the cheering and accolades from people on the course, it finally struck me. I INSPIRE PEOPLE. I’ve half believed it, but this time it sunk in and I believed it in my head AND heart.

As I ran down the street I heard “fuck you shorty” “give me my fucking money you dirty hoe” and realized I was running by a huge domestic dispute outside a house. I thought “keep your head down, don’t make eye contact.” As I turned the corner to escape a guy came by and said “we’re not going to finish our first race because we got shot in the crossfire.” Hahah, he read my mind. At the turn around I asked the staff member (between big sobs; I’m surprised he could understand me) if I finished after 8:30 would I still get my medal and finisher’s shirt. He just laughed and told me to keep going, there was a huge crowd waiting to cheer me on at the finish. He must have been worried about my well-being because he came up a half mile later to ask me if I was okay. I just sobbed I’m em-ot-ionallll. He just laughed and said it was okay and to run like the wind.

My teammate Scott met me at mile 10 to cheer me on, a much needed boost at the end, his smile meant a lot. Then the party bus came around to honk and cheer. Marti, Andrea and Michelle were hooting and hollering from the road for me to finish. I saw Michelle’s finisher medal, I wanted it, so I dug in and finished strong. As I came in to the finish area I saw Elyssa, Josh, Greg, Kim and Todd cheering me on. I rounded the corner and could hear the announcer talking about a finisher, I realized he was talking about ME! With all the crying I had done on the course, I only teared up on the last corner, then it all turned into a huge SMILE. Everyone was there to applaud my finish. I attempted a cartwheel to finish, but only had the energy to do half of one, so I guess it kinda looked like a sideways handstand.

El. Fin.
I cannot describe how it felt to finish. To know I had done it, I had met my goal. I wasn’t happy with my time, but I can figure out later how to improve for next season. For now I’m going to enjoy the glory and pride. I’m still in awe of myself and so incredibly grateful for everyone who supported me through this.

This season hasn’t been easy. A lot has changed in my life this summer. I’m a different girl coming out than what went in. I’ve gained a lot of friends, lost touch with a few, but I’m doing it all for me. I’m doing things I want to do that are making me a healthier person and ultimately a better person.

To be honest, I didn’t deserve to finish. My schedule since Muncie has been nuts and I’ve let training slip to a low priority. Since Muncie I was on my bike a handful of times, mileage was low. The highest was 25 miles with the Chicago Tri. I hadn’t been swimming. So I can’t be anything but grateful that I was able to finish. I am disappointed to know that had I used those 8 weeks to really dig in, I could have probably crushed that course. The story of my life.

I’m done with saying I could have. I can and I will. The off season has finally started and it’s time to dig into my goals. Lose weight, build strength and work in my zones to build my base. Ironman Arizona is 14 months away. 140.6 will be mine. Stay tuned..

44 minutes, 2,640 seconds.  That’s the difference in my ’12 Chicago tri from ’11. I was honestly hoping to break 4 hours, but  a 44 minute improvement in a year is a pretty good consolation prize.

For the first time this season I wasn’t disappointed with my performance. I gave it my all and left it all on the course. My sciatic nerve was not happy that weekend and the aftermath was definitely clear as I was walking like I had been rode a horse all weekend.

Seeing that it was lake Michigan I decided to bring out my wetsuit for this race. I lubed up with spray triglide in the hotel room before we left for the start line. It’s been two months since I last wore it, so I’m a little out of practice getting that bitch on. My nails were longer, so I had to be careful not to punch a hole. I started to waddle down the hallway. Luckily Brian recommended a cab to the start line, so I didn’t have to waddle the .75 miles to the start line (god bless my friends!)

As soon as I hopped in the water to bob like a sea of apples in the lake with my start wave, I knew it was going to be a frustrating swim. I felt constricted and it was hard to breath. I would swim about 200 meters and then need a break to get some air. So I would try breaststroking so I could at least keep forward movement. Sausage shoved in a wetsuit does not stroke anything well. It was impossible, so I would kinda doggy paddle forward a few seconds to get a breath and then keep going. The end buoy seems to move, it takes FOREVER to get to that fucker. Lesson 1: I had better sleep in my wetsuit to get ready for IMAZ next year.

The run to T1 is more than .25 miles. This year they put carpeting down the entire way which was awesome. However, it was a slippery little fucker. I almost fell a dozen times so I decided to walk because my luck I would have ate it. As I moved out of T1 a nice storm was rolling in and down came the rain. Good think I forgot my sunglasses at the hotel.

Out on the ride my new wheels were cutting through the wind. I was passing people left and right and they were staying passed (usually they pop back up). I got a “that’s an awesome bike” (compared to last year “you’re doing this race on THAT bike?”) The wind in our face going North on Lakeshore Drive was ridiculous. I thought “I can’t wait to have that shit at my back when I turn around.” I turned around,  and the wind was twice as bad. The wind WAS at my back. About mile 12 I thought something dropped off my bike but I couldn’t see anything so I kept going. A few seconds later I couldn’t pedal. Fuck. So I got off and find that my spare tube had fallen off my repair pouch. It was stuck in my crank. I finally got it untangled and secured it (I’m sure it’s trashed). Now to put my chain back on with tons of bikes coming at me (I kept imagining someone flying right into me). Finally after about 5 minutes I got it put back on and grease was smeared all over me head to toe. One of my favorite spin instructors, Sharon, came up behind me at mile 24 and we rode the last mile in together. All and all I was pleased, I managed 18mph in the wind. For the first time I really felt like I was racing out on the bike, it was a high like no other.

The run was a shuffle at best. My lower back was super tight from my sciatic nerve issues so I walked the first two miles and popped some advil. Finally it loosened up and I was able to jog. Last year I finished after all the pros. This year the men did lap me, but it was pretty cool to be able to cheer for Hunter Kemper. I was the last person to congratulate him as we both entered the finishers shoot (any guess who they announced finishing? hahah) The women didn’t lap me, so that’s a small victory. I spent the last mile throwing out high fives to people I passed as they were just starting the run. I just love cheering for everyone. Lesson 2: It poured the entire run, I need to run more in the rain because I hate when my face is wet and I can’t dry it.

I was thankful to see my pit crew at the finish line. Brian, Jen and Marci were there, soaking wet, cheering loud for me. Thanks guys for coming out! We got back to the hotel and I almost killed myself as I slipped on the carpet where I had sprayed the triglide. That shit is slippery!

As I was out on the course I reflected on a few things:
-When the fuck did everyone else get so fast? I finished 44 minutes earlier than last year, but I still finished dead last in my division and was one of the last few out on the course.
-I need to let go of my expectations about my times and performance. I cannot compare myself to others, especially since I am still carting around that Olsen twin. It’s going to make my times slower, no matter how much I want to believe it doesn’t matter.
-I need to dump that bitch. Racing would be more fun, training would be easier and I’d get to have a beer before the tent closes. I read a funny article in USA Triathlete “Thoughts from the back of the pack” I was laughing out loud when I was reading it because it was o’ so true. I want to know what it’s like from the middle of the pack.
-And I want to know what it’s like from the front of the pack. Because I have a feeling that when I do ditch the Olsen (and I will) that I will be on the heels of my idols; those ladies in my life that are leading the pack at races.
-I need to respect the race. No matter the distance, it is a race that needs proper prep. I am happy with my performance given the condition I was in when I arrived at the race. But I need to arrive in better condition. I need to get more sleep, more hydration and feeling better. I have decided to do these races, so I need to prioritize it appropriately in my schedule.
-I’m not 23 anymore and I can’t do it all and I’m pretty tired from trying. I need to cut down to what’s important and say no to the rest. I’m almost 33 but I keep myself programmed non-stop like I’m 23 and I need to realize 10 years does make a difference even though I want to pretend it doesn’t…

Overall, finally a race with very few mishaps. “Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors”

Less than 12 hours later I feel like I got run over by a truck. Where’d that fucker go?

Tri Indy tried my patience and my memory. It might have been one of the worst races of the season, but you know what? I finished strong, with a huge smile on my face and sprinting (yes, sprinting) across the finish.

My bright pink swim cap and I jumped into the canal. Those waves can really get moving with that many people swimming in the canal. Luckily this year no one tried to hitch a ride by grabbing onto my ankle. I did get punched in the whohaw (how the fuck do you swim with a closed fist?) and I looked up to sight and about ran into a guy walking (hello DQ) in the middle of the canal. I got out of the swim and now owned an orange cap. Yeah, you figure that one out.

It was great to see my fellow BoMF’er Melissa in transition and it was nice to have a familiar smiling face waiting by my transition spot.

I was pretty happy with the start of my bike. We had a hurricane come through Indianapolis this morning that delayed the start of the race (okay, so my nose grows a small bit with that description) which caused an hour delay and a shitton of debris in the road. This course is notorious for less-than-ideal roads, so bumps are pretty common. Before I got to mile 7 I saw 15 people fixing flats on the side of the road. Each one I passed I offered assistance and then thanked god and baby jesus that wasn’t me. Despite the shitty conditions, I was keeping 18 mph on my cateye. Around mile 7.5 I thought to myself “boy this road is awful bumpy” and then I realized my back tire was flat. Fuckmerunning.

I had never changed a tire in the real world, just in a class. So this was going to test my memory. What do I do with this thingymabob again? Where do I start? It started slowly coming back to me. I was pleasantly surprised with how many people asked if I needed anything and every team member shouted “Chrissy are you okay?” I took the tube out and had a TINY hole in my tube. Who knows how long it had been there. I tried to run my hand on the inside of the tire to check for anything and thought it was clear so I put the new tube in. I got the wheel back on after spending five minutes struggling with my chain (testing my patience and covering my hand in black grease, which would later spread to my face and every part of my uniform). As soon as I put the CO2 in it, I could hear a slow hissing. Fuck! Was it human error? Was there something in there I didn’t feel? I didn’t want to waste another tube in case it was my fuckup so I started on my way. As I left my spot, my teammate Julie had come back to help  – what a sweetheart!

I had to stop 3 times to top off my tire with my other CO2 canister. This was trying my patience. Not only is my little pouch under my seat a pain in the ass to get into, you have to wait for an opening in traffic to rejoin the race. I figure this clusterfuck cost me about 25 minutes in all. Needles to say I’m so glad I didn’t race on my new ZIPPS and I need to host a tire changing party to practice.

I started out on the run pretty strong, running most of the way through the path along the zoo. I am so fucking sick of hearing “good for you for just being out here!” from people as the pass me. Yes, nice of you to encourage me. But it’s not my first fucking race. Errr. More motivation I guess to lose weight so people stop taking pity on my slow ass pace and then I can pick up the fucking pace. Sydney came up along me with about .7 miles left and I ran the rest of the way with her. I can guarantee you that I would have walked some of that if she hadn’t been there – so thank you Sydney for showing me that I CAN run more than I think!

All and all I’m not happy with today. I don’t understand how I feel so beat up after a simple fucking sprint tri but finished a 40 mile tri feeling after like I could leap small buildings in a single bound.

But this is all about what you learn. Negative attitudes don’t do shit but keep you negative. So on the bright side I got to spend time with the wonderful triathletes in town, many who have become my friends. I got to have a fun car ride with my friend Party Marti and I now know what it feels like to change a tire under the pressure of a race. I was greeted at the finish line by a facebook friend I finally go to meet in person! After the race I got to help little kids do a triathlon. I got to bike for the people who can’t. I got to run in honor of my favorite BoMF’ers that no longer can (God I miss you Joe! Your spirit kept me company on the run)

Tri or tri not. There is only do.