26.2 miles of thankful

Last year, I set a goal to run a full marathon in the spring. I felt that this would mentally boost and prepare me for my ultimate goal in 2017 of finishing a 1/2 Iron distance triathlon. Unfortuantely, my IT band had a different idea, and I had to move forward into the summer without meeting my goal.

I completed the 1/12 Iron in July, and as most endurance athletes, I sat down in the winter months and started planning my race schedule for 2018. What would this next year bring? Should I push to a longer distance or focus on strength and speed on distances I already knew I could complete.

In the end, I chose a little of both worlds. I set up three big goals:
1. Run a full marathon (26.2 miles)
2. Do a century ride (100 miles on a bike)
3. Complete another 1/2 Iron without feeling like I was gonna puke the whole last 5K

I sat back, looked at my list and thought, "Wow, Stephanie. You are either fucking awesome... or fucking crazy. Should be interesting to find out...."

Now I just had to choose a race. I wanted a spring race, which I hoped would keep me motivated during the winter. There are several good ones where I live, and I basically had my choice between Cincinnatti, Columbus, or Xenia.

Wait. Did she just say Xenia?

Yep. Home of the Ohio River Road Runners Club 1/2 and full marathon for the last 51 years. FIFTY-ONE YEARS!! And I had never heard of it before. I started asking around amongst my running friends, and pretty soon had my answer as to why I had never heard of it. Many marathons (including the Columbus and Cincinnatti spring ones) are wonderful, huge productions that have everything from full-blown expos to bands at every mile marker.

Not the Xenia marathon. It is a super-low key race with a piece of paper taped on the ground at each mile. No bands, no big towns to run through and get cheered on by strangers. Just you and the road ahead of you.

Now don't get me wrong. It was a very well put-together race. It had all of the basic needs:
- Packet pick-up the day before
- Bib numbers with chips imbedded for timing
- Mile markers
- Water, Gatorade, and porta-potties well placed throughout the course

But some of my fellow teammates were cautious about this being my first race. Didn't I want to be somewhere there was a lot of other runners and more race support?

I took their advice to heart, and I thought hard about it, but in the end decided this was exactly what I wanted. I love big, fun races. But for some reason, this mentally challenging course appealed to me. Remember that part about either being fucking awesome or fucking stupid???



So I trained. Alone. Which is not my most favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, weather in Ohio forces many people to train indoors for months at a time, which is what the majority of my training consisted of. I technically started in December, although I had been running throughout the fall according to my triathlon training plan. That gave me a "leg up", until about mid-January. That's when I had to start doing a long run on the weekends that was 14 miles or longer.

Up until now, 13.1 miles had been the furtherst I had ever run. So hitting that 14 and beyond mark each week was admittedly a little exhilarating. I even did my first 20-mile run on the treadmill.

Yes, on the treadmill. 3 hours and 40 minutes straight. I know people at the gym thought I was crazy. Hell, I thought I was crazy at one point. Or two. Or maybe for the last 45 minutes or so.

Twenty miles was the furthest my plan had me running  before the race. But I had to do it three times. My second 20-miler was outside on the bike path.

Ummm.....it sucked. Like seriously sucked. No runner's high, no dopamine rush, just a lot of Darky and "What the hell have you gotten yourself into. You are never gonna be able to do ANOTHER HOUR of this on race day".

The next day one of my training partners texted me out of the blue, asking how my marathon training was going. She said she remembered being at the same point of training I was at for her first marathon. She went on to remark how she had been "over" the long runs and was second-guessing ever actually being able to finish. But she also said that those feelings were completely normal and she wound up being just fine on race day and knew I would be too because she believed in me.

Wow. Talk about timing. I'm just glad I was in my office so nobody saw me crying.

So I entered my last big 20-mile training run with a purposeful plan of nothing but positivity. I had placed duct tape over Darky's mouth and locked her in the closet at home. I told myself that I would NOT let anything but positive thoughts get into my head that day.

And it worked. I killed that session. Finished strong and still had gas in the tank. Boom. Bring the fucking awesome.

A few weeks later, the day finally arrived. I was nervous about the cold, as I hadn't run outside much in weather less than 40 degrees.

It was 25 degrees when we started.

My husband drove me to the starting area, and I could tell right away this was going to be different from most other long-distance races I had participated in. There were no cute outfits or tutus amongst the participants. These were serious runners out to do a serious run. As I rounded the first corner in the building where we started, I found one of my mentors and teammate Colleen. We eventually found other members of our team/tribe, as many were doing the half-marathon in prep for the Flying Pig in a few weeks. Colleen asked if she could run with me until the 1/2 marathoers split off and I was thrilled. She helped pace me for the first 8 miles, averaging slightly faster than my goal pace without feeling like I was pushing too hard. She is such a pleasure to run with, always so happy and positive about...well everything that I can honestly say I thouroughly enjoyed the first third of my race. By mile 3 we had passed my mom and teammate Heidi, who had both come out in the FREEZING cold to stand still and be present for my special day. I hugged them both, posed for a pic with mom, and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Me and Colleen around Mile 3

When the half-marathoners split off, I immediately realized that the rest of this race was going to be completely different. I went from a bike path full of people to being pretty much completely alone for the next 10-11 miles. In other words, I had almost 2 hours of that "mental challenging" that I had so desperately thought I wanted....

Not a lot of people...or anything out here

And so I dug deep, and continued to put one foot in front of the other. We were out in some beautiful country, and the sun was shining. I took in the scenery, (which no joke included a camel at one point), and kept my slow but steady pace even when I wanted to slow down even more.  I literally could not feel my lips because they were so cold. I couldn't even pick up the cups of water at one station, because my hand was to frozen to grab it correctly.

But I kept going. Counting my OCD numbers in my head and checking my pace on my watch. Eating my salt tabs, hydrating on schedule (one of my goals for this race was to not get nauseous from dehydration).  Slowly, I started to pass people. Not a lot of people mind you, but ones that started far off in the distance and eventually wound up behind me. That helped keep me on track. I had TRAINED for this damn it.  And look- mile 20! Anything past this was a distance PR for me! This was going to be fucking awesome!

That euphoria lasted for about another mile and a half. By Mile 22, I was over it. My legs hurt, and I could tell I was not the only one. I continued to slowly pass other marathoners, all of us "shuffling" at this point, unable to bend our legs very well in fear of a cramping. We gave each other nods and smiles of encouragement. The volunteers at the aid stations had gone from screaming, "great job! You can do this!" to quietly just handing out the water and giving us pitful looks and an occasional thumbs up. 

In their defense, I'm sure we looked pretty pitiful and primed to possibly bite if they said the wrong thing...

Still all alone. Still cold.

About mile 22, I slowly came up to another female runner. I saw that she was wearing a "70.3" visor and reached out in desperation.

Not literally folks. That would have been weird.

"Which 1/2 iron did you do?" I wheezed.

"Ohio".

"I did that one too last year! It was my first one!"

"Me too!"

And so, in the unwritten rule of race etiquette at the end of a race, we were officially now best friends for the next 4ish miles.

Turns out, we were both running our first full marathons, and had the same time goals. Even better, we were on track to crush that goal as long as we didn't stop. And so we chatted semi-coherently as we shuffled along together towards a sub-5hr finish. I asked if she trained with a tri group, and told her about my amazing teammates and that we would welcome her to any of our training sessions.

I swear I hardly had finished talking about how supportive our team was when I looked up and thought I saw a mirage heading towards me. I squinted and wiped the frozen sweat from my eyebrows (that's not an exaageration...) and realized it wasn't a mirage- it was my teammate Matt.

"Matt!? Is that you?!"

Sure was. He turned around and started running with us, telling us that he had to get a run in anyways that day, and knew that I was the only one running the full marathon from our team today. He had done this race before and knew the mental challenges it (and ANY full marathon) presented, and had told his wife he was gonna mosey out to the Xenia bike path and see if he ran into me...

She kissed him on the cheek and told him to "go do what you do".

Which is save my ass at the end of the race.

Seriously folks. This is now the FOURTH race he has seemingly magically appeared at the exact moment I needed him. He got me up the hill from hell at the Air Force 1/2 marathon a few years ago, he showed up out of nowhere at the finish of my Olympic triatholon and cheered me through the finish when I literally wanted to cry I was so miserable, and his smiling face and loud voice pulled me out of the darkness at Ohio 1/2 Ironman last summer again at the end of a grueling race. And now he literally appears  at the last 2-3 miles of my marathon, chatting away about anything and everything to keep my mind off my legs.

I turned to my new best friend Anne and said, "Did I mention that my teammates are awesome?"

Half a mile to go, I fell a blister on my toe pop. Shit shit shit that hurts. Darky giggles on my shoulder. I mentally throat punch her. And so we made that turn that allowed us to see not the actual finish line, but where the place where the finish line would be. Matt asks me if I will have people to cheer me at the finish line. I smile and tell him that actually my husband, son, mom, and teammate Nicole are gonna be there! They are gonna see me do it!! And as the words come out of my mouth, Nicole is there, screaming for me and running alongside me cheering me on. I look up, and see my 14-year old son smiling and waving at me right next to the finish line. Next to him are my husband and mom, clapping and cheering me across.

Oh good. An ambulance. 

I'll be honest. The finish line was a blur. My finish line photo was brutally honest.

I forgot to stop my Garmin, but the clock next to the finish line said 4:48 when I looked. So I had made all three of my personal goals, the most important one being not throwing up. I got my picture taken and headed inside where the food was supposed to be.

Now I say supposed to be, because there was none. Nada. Zilch. You know you run slow when all the food is gone when you get done....but I wasn't all that disappointed, as eating right after a long run usually doesn't inspire wonderful outcomes. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the car with my family. We pulled in the driveway and the boys got out of the car. Halfway to the house my husband turned around and looked at me funny.

"You getting out of the car?"

"Ummm...yeah. Sure. Maybe. Maybe not. Can you help me?"

My legs were absolute toast for the rest of the day, but by noon on the following day they were pretty much back to baseline. I went and treated myself to a new pair of running shoes, a 26.2 magnet for my car,  and ice cream. And then I sat on the couch and thought about what I had learned from this experience. After much thought, I have decided the main theme is that I am thankful.

Thankful for a family that supports my long runs and comes out to support me.

Thankful to be healthy enough to even attempt crazy feats like this.

Thankful for Glide. My fellow runners will understand.

Thankful for my tribe. Without Colleen and Matt, I never would have met all my goals. Having mentors and friends that won't let you quit, support you even when they are not racing,  and literally run by your side is a gift I don't take for granted.

What's next you ask? A century bike ride (100 miles) if it ever warms up or isn't raining on a weekend. So stay tuned for the next adventure, which hopefully does not involve me kissing any pavement.

I know, I know. But it's good to have goals.

#26.2InTheBooks  #100WithoutLosingSkin

Together Everyone Achieves More- Ohio 70.3 Race Report

In 2013, I entered the world of triathlon. I was 38 years old, and looking for a way to continue endurance training without relying upon running alone. I had finished my first 5K ever, and instantly caught the bug to Keep Moving Forward. I bought a cheap bike and a bathing suit, found a training plan on a website, and started towards a "mini" triathlon.

Alone.

And I truly never minded training alone. It was "me" time, and there wasn't any pressure to keep up with others. Because boy oh boy, I was slow. But I made it through the plan, and race day came. I drove there in excited anticipation.

Alone.

Again, the alone thing did't really bother me. Being by myself meant that nobody I knew had to see me crying during the pre-race prayer, or hyperventilating when I saw the buoys in the water (oh my God I can't swim that far!). But for the first time, I started to realize something...

No one is truly alone in triathlon.

There is a certain kinship that only other triathletes can explain. Yes, there are the exceptions to the rule, as there is with any sport, but the vast majority of this sport is filled with overwhelmingly supportive people. Complete strangers told me "Good Job" and gave me high fives as they ran past me. I was hooked.


My first triathlon medal. Heck, my first EVER medal!

I worked my ass off for the next 3 years, slowly increasing my race distance. I conquered the Sprint quite strongly despite horrible weather conditions, but still wonder if I would have even started the race if one of my girlfriends hadn't surprised me by showing up to cheer and even making me a sign. If I would have been alone, I may never have had the opportunity to feel such an accomplishment, as this remains one of my greatest finishes to this day.

Because I wasn't alone.


Sprint distance at the finish line with my friend Jen (she made me a sign!!)

The Olympic distance was a whole new level for me. Twice the distance of the Sprint, and really getting into full-blown endurance training. I had started to make friends and acquaintances in the triathlon world at this point, and starting to notice that there were actually triathlon teams that trained and raced together. I got a few invites, but still felt like too much of a novice and tortoise to make the leap. And so I continued on my journey, happy to have people to talk to at races and on Facebook.


Olympic race Year Two. Nothing like Neoprene to make your ass look skinnier!

But still pretty alone.

  I made it through two Olympics, and both times there was a 1/2 Iron distance racing at the same time. And both times I clearly remember thinking, "I can't even imagine doing twice the distance that I'm doing today".

And then Heidi, one of the friends I had picked up on the race path the last few years, texted me and said, "We are doing the Ohio 1/2 Ironman next year. Sign up now before the price goes up".

And so I clicked the link to registration, and with shaking hands and a knot in my stomach, turned over several hundred dollars to the "M Dot" people. Because now it wasn't "I" am going to do this...

It was "We" are going to do this.

And so the journey to Delaware, Ohio and 70.3 miles of Swim, Bike, Run began. I bought a new swimsuit, a new bike, and new running shoes. I got up at 4 AM to swim before going to work, then biked or ran after dinner when I came home from work. I ran on the "dreadmill" at the gym for hours during the winter. I bought a bike trainer for the house so I could still feel like I was with family during my 3-hour training rides. My life was full of carbohydrates, early morning alarm clocks, and a lot of hoping that my legs wouldn't cramp up during sex.



Then, finally, warmer weather came along, and the group that Heidi had duped..I mean inspired... to sign up for Ohio joined up for our first bike ride toget. She brought her friend, Nicole, who was also signed up for her very first triathlon in a few months. This was my first ever group ride, and it was so much fun- even though I was at the back of the pack. Having them in front of me the whole time actually made me better, motivating me to just "keep this pace a little longer".


Then I took the leap and joined Team RWB Eagles. The letters stand for "Red, White, and Blue". RWB is a national endurance team with local chapters, and their mission is to enrich the lives of America's veterans by connecting them to their community through physical and social activity. It is free to join and open to anyone- whether you have ties to the military or just want to support them. My husband is a Veteran, and my oldest step-son is Active Duty. This was now a way for me to both engage in the tri community and support another community that was close to my heart. Win. Win.

My first practice with Team RWB wound up awash, as my bike had a mechanical issue literally before we left the parking lot. But even without doing the ride with the other ladies, I got a glimpse of what was to come- they refused to go on ahead without me until they were certain my bike wasn't fixable. And they had only known me for 15 minutes.


My very first meet up with RWB! Look at all that Neoprene!


I got my bike fixed that afternoon, and continued on through the next couple of months doing a combination of workouts by myself, with my training partners, and with my new RWB teammates. I now had people to meet at the gym at 4AM, making it much harder to hit the snooze. I had people to do Open Water Swimming practice every weekend. I had a group of people that I could text and/or post on Facebook the good, the bad, and the ugly (such as getting completely stuck in sports bra after a sweaty run- like "I may have to call a freind to come over and help me" stuck) about my training without feeling like I was bothering or boring them. We bounced ideas, questions, accomplishments, and bad days off each other, pushing and lifting one another up and towards the ultimate goal at the end of July- Ironman70.3 Ohio.

And we did it together.

The day seemed so far away, until it was upon us. And so I packed up my bags (which did not even contain makeup or underwear!), and headed out to pick up one of my training partners, Raegan, and her gear bags as well (which incidentally DID have both makeup and underwear in them lol).

The drive to a big race is usually filled with nerves and nausea for me, but having someone to talk to made the time fly by. Before we knew it we were seeing signs for Ironman Village, and pulled into a parking lot across the street.

Now I was told there were about 2400 athletes racing the next day. All those people, and I just so happened to pull in next to one of my RWB teammates, Liz, that morning. This was going to be her first 70.3 as well, and her excitement was literally contagious. We took a selfie and moved along to the stadium across the street where Heidi's son, Hayden, was tackling a 1-mile IronKids running race. This kid has been at all of his parent's big events, and even came with them to my A race last year  to cheer me on. I was ecstatic to be able to return that support, and had brought a sign to prove it. He did AWESOME, smashing a mile in 6:35! He came away from the finish line grinning ear to ear, and has signed up for his first triathlon in a couple of months.

Then we plowed through the typical registration and bag pick-up process, attended the Athlete Check-In session, and bought the shit out of some Ironman gear at their merchandise store. I had to do some explaining about why my bib said "Stephane" but my name was really "Stephanie", my cheeks turning a little pink as I confirmed I had spelled my own name wrong when I registered (AGAIN! I DID THE SAME THING AT AIR FORCE MARATHON!!). We got compliments throughout the morning on our awesome t-shirts, which were made by one of my training partner's husbands and given as gifts to our group.

Setting up transitions in two different locations was a new one for me, but I had a plan and schedule prepared to get me through with minimal anxiety. When we arrived to the beach to set up our bikes, I once again just happened to park right next to  two other RWB teammates, Colleen and Brenda. Brenda was tackling her first 70.3, but she looked cool as a cucumber. Colleen is a seasoned triathlete and full-fledged badass Ironman. She is also an amazing and selfless leader, always willing to give advice, support emotionally or physically, and ensure that all sizes, shapes, ages, and abilities feel welcomed to the RWB group.


Eagles Colleen, Brenda (the Cool Cucumber), and Katie (Ironman and general Superwoman)

I pulled out my race belt and started to affix my bib number and gels. I once again had to tell the story of "Stephane", which has now become much more entertaining than I anticipated. We rode our bikes around to ensure the trip hadn't damaged anything, then packed up and headed for the hotel.

Being a little...OCD....I had packed a dinner for myself and Raegan (best roomie ever), not wanting to risk going to a restaurant. This turned out to be a great idea, because we were pretty exhausted at that point from all the prep work in the sun that day. Raegan and I toasted each other with our glasses of water, ate our chicken and veggies, then took our bras off (ahh...) and were in the bed by 8:30 PM.

Ok, I did do this part alone. We each had our own double bed :).

Not that we slept. I played Spider Solitaire and made panicked lists for what I needed to do the next morning, while Raegan read her book and trolled Facebook. I fell asleep eventually, but by 2:45 I was awake and knew it was no use trying to go back to sleep. I laid there and went over my race plan until the alarm went off at 3:30. Time to put the Eagle on and see what the day brings!

4:30 AM wake-up call. Let's do this!

We parked downtown and took the shuttles provided to Delaware State Park. We chatted constantly, subconsciously trying to push back anxiety, and for the most part it worked brilliantly. We proceeded to get body marked (yes, they put your age on your leg, harumph) and then moved into T1 to set up what we would need after emerging from the water. I meticulously went through my mental checklist, walking away confident that I had everything that I needed well before T1 closed at 6:45AM.

Ironman sent us a pic at 5AM from T1- "Wake up, it's game day!

We headed to the Porta-Johns for "Round One" (ok it was already Round Two for me...), then down to the beach to watch the men in our training group take off. We saw several of our friends and teammates along the way, and again I relished being surrounded by others to help prevent me from looking out at those damn buoys and thinking, "There is no way in hell I can do that....".

Heidi captioned this one "Last Chance" on Facebook

Obviously, poop is very important to triathletes, as proven by the fact that I have more pictures of Porta-johns than anything else from the weekend!

Then I had a panic attack. I realized I still had my tri top on, which was NOT part of the plan. It was supposed to be in T1, sitting on my bike, with my nutrition all ready to go in the back pockets. As I started to hyperventilate, my teammates immediately told me to just relax, the gels and ziplock baggie of waffles would be fine under my wetsuit. Ok. Crisis averted.

Before I knew it, Raegan and I were lined up in the water, and it was time to start. No turning back now. I purposely placed myself in the back of my wave, hoping to avoid the natural chaos that ensues when 100 people all try to swim like hell in the same direction at the same time. This plan worked well, until I turned the first corner and looked up to sight for the next buoy.




Not only could I not see the next buoy, I couldn't even see 10 feet in front of me. The sun was directly in our eyes. All I could do was put my head down and try to follow the pack. The swim is my strongest of the three sports, as my long body allows me to swim using less energy than many people. I've been told I look like I'm not even working hard (oh but I am) because I just kind of glide through the water. This is usually said by my fellow teammates as we get out of the water and with a scowl on their face haha. I got into my rhythm, starting to feel the chaos turn to...well, not calm but definitely less chaos.

I hadn't bumped into anybody in a while, and all of a sudden I heard an insistent horn. Looking up, I see a boat with people pointing in a direction that I was not swimming. That's when I realized I had swam so off course that they had to send a freaking boat after me.


Yes, a boat. With a horn. That wasn't embarrassing...

By the time I had gotten back to the correct line, my plans of staying towards the back of my group had turned from a good decision to a bad one. Now the elite swimmers from the wave behind me were gaining, and gaining fast. These guys are going for speed, and don't much care about running into other people. Luckily, I've had enough experience now in open water races that I didn't panic. But I eventually just got angry. I was tired of having to stop because someone grabbed my ankle, and I was still having a hell of a time keeping a straight line. I had been swimming harder than usual to try and make up for lost yardage, and was getting fatigued. I just wanted OUT OF THE WATER. Tears welled up, and I had to start bitching at myself to "get it together, Stephanie".

Here's a screen shot from my Garmin of my swim. It was supposed to be a straight-lined triangle...The funny thing is that a lot of people in my RWB group posted very similar pictures. I think I took second place in regards to longest extra mileage, with Colleen Perry taking first place over me. Katie Kracus and I went neck to neck for "Most Crooked-Assed Triangle I've Ever Seen" Award though.

At last, I looked up and actually saw the exit chute. I took a chance and looked at my watch. 45 minutes?! WHAT?! I still had time to make my goal of getting out of the T1 in under an hour. I had swam an extra 219 yards, which is about 8 extra laps in a pool. I was exhausted when I came out of the water, but holy shit I had made it. 49 minutes. I'll take it!

I had never been so happy to be out of the water in my life!

The run to transition is ALWAYS uphill, but this one was relatively short in comparison to most I have done. I took extra time to get all the rocks and sand off my feet (a hard lesson learned in the beginning of my tri experiences), and looked up to see a woman I had helped in the morning get her tires pumped up.

"That swim was awesome!" she exclaimed, at the exact same time I shouted, "That swim sucked!". We both laughed at each other, clipped on our helmets, and wished each other good luck on the bike.

The bike.

Any advantage I have in the water is lost on the bike. It has taken me about 4 1/2 years to get in a mental place where I have accepted what and who I am on the bike. Thank goodness I arrived in this mental state before this race, because I literally got passed somewhere between 100 and 200 times. One woman literally passed me while she was resting her hand on her chin in her aero bars- "Really?!", I thought. "Do you have to rub it in like that?!"The constant stream of people blowing by you can be psychologically difficult, but I have learned to just put my head down and do what I can do without worrying about other people. The bike is also a place where you have to be ok being alone. You literally are not allowed to ride together- the rule is that you must be 6 bike lengths apart unless you are actively passing. So those years of riding alone did come in handy.

The first 5 miles was great. I was getting at least 16mi/hr (this was my goal pace) without too much effort, despite a slight uphill grade. I purposely never come out hard on the bike, as this tends to trash my legs for the back half as well as the run. So I pedaled at my "happy-pace", actually smiling and taking a few minutes to absorb the reality of what I was doing.

Then the headwind hit. For 20 freaking miles. And the uphill grade did not go away for those miles either. This was when the bulk of people passing me happened. I was struggling to keep even 15 miles/hr, but I had studied the course and knew that the back half was all relatively downhill, so I thought I could make up the time eventually. I didn't freak out, just kept counting out my OCD rhythm in my head to pass the time.

A little after Mile 10, my training partner Heidi blew past me (Go Heidi! She PR'd this race!) From Mile 10 through 25, I wanted nothing more than to just pee on the bike. OMG my bladder was ready to burst!! I have heard of people doing this, but there was always someone behind me, and that felt just...rude. I stopped at a rest stop after 2 hours, to stretch my aching back and use my gel ( I still don't trust myself to open those while riding). Volunteers immediately surrounded me offering water, Gatorade, bananas, and , "Hey do you want a shot?".

That got my attention.

But alas, it was just a Clif Shot energy gel. I declined the offers, and took off for the last leg of my bike journey. I had a fleeting moment as I rode away of, 'Why don't I have to pee anymore?", but ignored it and headed towards my longest bike ride ever (I had only gone as far as 48 miles during training).

The last 20 miles were not as fast as I had hoped, due to rough roads, turns, and some hills, but I still managed to pass about 20 people on the road. Of course, two of those people were riding mountain bikes, so I probably can't count that ...At Mile 50, I started smiling again, and actually said out loud- "I'm actually gonna do this thing!".



I rolled into T2 right at an average of 16mi/hr- my goal! I didn't realize it during the race though- I was just so happy to stand up straight! I took a moment to assess my legs when I came off the bike, and was pleasantly surprised  that my legs weren't toast. I was actually a little excited to see what I could do on this 13.1 mile run thing.

Now, let me take a moment to talk about chafing. It is the enemy of any endurance athlete. Most of us learn this the hard way (nothing like salty sweat running into raw, open skin in the shower), but we have different ways to combat it. Vaseline is an old stand-by, but many racers use Glide or Chamois Butter to lube up all those little places the get rubbed raw after 7 hours of repetitive motion. I am a Glide fan, and had left my stick (think Chapstick in the shape of a deodorant bottle) the day before in T2 so I could make my toes slippery and prevent blisters.



Unfortuantely, T2 was in the middle of a football stadium. And it was 80 degrees.

Whoops. I pulled off the lid and immediately a pile of liquid Glide promptly fell into my running shoe.

Shit.

I scooped it out as best I could, threw on my shoes, changed into my RWB tank top (twice, cuz I put it on backwards the first time...), and started to jog out of the stadium.

I'd like to take this opportunity to say a little something about my RWB gear. This was the first time I had raced as part of a team, and such a special team at that. Hell, this was the first time I had even wore an actual tri suit- I've always just worn bike shorts and a tank top.

Throughout the entire race, I was pleasantly surprised at how, once again, being on a team versus "alone" changed things. Complete strangers that also wore the Eagle made sure to say something positive to one another- I got "Eagle Fire!", "Eagle up!", and "Good Job Eagle!" from other RWB members that I had never met. But even more importantly, I got comments from non-Eagles. One man literally stopped running as he was coming towards me, just to shake my hand and thank me and my family for our service. Several others mentioned how much they loved the saying on the back of my tank top.

It was after the first Eagle passed me on the bike and shouted, "Go get 'em Eagle!" that I realized something. Wearing this gear was an honor. Much like when I put on my RN badge, my personal actions now reflected upon a whole group of people and, in the big scheme of things, a country that I love and am so thankful for. It made me hold my head a little higher, and concentrate a little more on being supportive of others (even those 200 freaking people who passed me), and more determined than ever not to throw up on the race course.... Not that this isn't my natural personality, but it's easy to get stuck in your own world out there. Engaging and helping others not only helps their race along, it helps yours. I heard several stories of fellow Eagles saving the day for others- giving extra cycle socks to someone who forgot theirs (my girl Colleen!), stopping to help someone who was cramping with base salts (go Katie!), and so on. I helped a lady with her bike who had never pumped up her own tires before. They were basically flat, and she could have been hurt if she tried to ride on them. Those people will remember that.

So, back to the run. Or, more adequately named, the jog-walk. My best 1/2 marathon time is just over 2 hours, or a 9:38 pace. I was shooting for 11:00. Which worked out reasonable well until about Mile 4....

I had to pee. like HAD to pee. It is now 2PM and almost 80 degrees OUTSIDE the porta-potty. So take a moment to imagine what it was like INSIDE the porta-potty....

Now, of course this is the first time that I had peed in the race, so I was in there a loooong time. It just wouldn't stop! I even said, "Come ON already" at one point. Then, there was the drama of pulling up my bike shorts that are soaked from sweat in a 2foot X 2foot box.

Let's just say I'm glad there were no cameras involved.

I came bursting out of the porta pot- "Freedom! Air! Are my shorts on crooked?!" and had a few runners giggling at my debacle, but now I had time to make up.

Caught up with my teammate Brenda, the cool cucumber, looking solid and determined. Miles 5-7 were uneventful, and I was having to admit this run course was great. A lot of shade, no unmanageable hills, and plenty of people out to support us (sprinklers, people with music and dancing in their yards, etc).

Mile 8- found my training partner and roomate Raegan! Mother of FIVE kids and a beast on the bike, we have been friends since high school. We wound up run-walking with another woman for several miles (again, complete stranger), who was a trauma nurse practitioner. I have no idea what her name was, but she pulled me through until Mile 11. We had found Eagle Steve along the way, and Eagle E-Roc was riding his bike in the opposite direction with his sequined American Flag fanny pack checking on his flock and hollering encouragement.

Yes, I said sequined American Flag fanny pack. Don't laugh. It was awesome.

His third lap to check on us was about my Mile 11. This was when trouble finally hit me. All of a sudden my stomach rebelled, reminding me that I hadn't followed my nutrition on the run. I tried Coke and orange slices, but eventually had to just plain walk in order to keep what nutrition I DID have inside. My legs were also starting to give signals that they would like to cramp, so I eased back and tried to save something for the end.

I had stopped looking at my watch around Mile 9. I knew I was behind pace, and didn't want to freak myself out. I just needed to get to the finish line at this point in one piece. Mile 12 started to have more people around as we grew closer to town, and I started doing a walk/run from one orange cone to the next.
That's how a lot of us get past the dark point (I call that bitch Darky, who wants to drag you down into the depths of misery). One buoy, one count to 60, or one cone at a time. Literally. No looking up and seeing the distance, just keep your head down and KEEP MOVING FORWARD.

And then I heard my name. It was Colleen first, who had already finished, changed her outfit, and was sitting by the road in her lawn chair to cheer (I told you she was a badass). That pushed me through a few sets of no walking in between cones.

But then I was walking again. Alone. And cussing myself for walking. There are points in these races where it is so easy to slide into the dark of your own misery, allowing it to tell you "what the hell were you thinking. You are 42 years old. You are a loser. Everything hurts, your'e not going to make it" and so on. Darky was like a 20 pound backpack right then, pulling on my ponytail and standing on my feet in an effort to slow me down. I mean, I could see the stadium, but I coudln't get myself to go any faster toward it.

I looked up, because somebody was making a whole hell of a lotta noise, and I thought my name was in there somewhere. Some tall guy wear an RWB tri kit was waving his arms and screaming like a wild man.

"Matt", I said to myself, and started to smile. This guy has literally found me in at least 3 races at a point where Darky was winning and pulled me into the light. And here he was again. I started jogging. And he kept screaming. Then there was The Stockmans, fellow Eagles and work mates, literally coming into the street and screaming my name as I jogged past them. I could seriously feel their words pushing me forward -  "Come on Steph, your'e right there! KEEP MOVING!".

This is my absolute favorite pic. That's my ex (and still beloved) boss and fellow Eagle Amy screaming at me in the back, and Matt is in front of me doing the same thing. Five seconds before this I was in hell. This is what my team did for me that day.

Thank God for my sunglassess, because I started crying (I'm crying now just typing this...). I could see the entrance to the stadium. I was going to make it. And just as I got to the turn, I see another training partner Nicole waving and screaming. She ran right alongside me, screaming encouragement along the way- "This is what you trained for! Oh my Gosh your'e doing awesome!"

I made the sharp right turn and started to run up the short ramp to the actual stadium.

Ow. Fuck. FUCK! Leg cramps.

Both calves immediately locked up. I hopped up the hill. There's the entrance gate to the stadium.

I will not walk in front of all these people across my finish line.



Now on level ground, I started jogging again (you will notice that many people are running from their hips at the end, lifting their legs from the hips so they don't have to bed their legs and cause a cramp). I came around the curve and heard more of my training family in the stands (Heidi, your cheerleading experience paid off- I heard you above EVERYONE else). Their screaming kept me moving across the finish line. I was just with it enough to remember to raise my arms as I crossed (OMG I have long skinny arms!). I limped past the volunteers in a daze- they actually had to chase me down to give me my medal and hat. I hadn't looked at the time when I crossed, and I hadn't even remembered to stop my watch. I didn't even care at that point, to be honest. One volunteer said, "There's water over here, and the food tent is over that way.....and medical is right over here...."

I knew I probably looked bad. I was hyperventilating and having trouble staying upright. I got my picture taken, then stumbled over to the shade where my training family met up with me. Hugs were given, but then I had to lay down. I was so nauseated that I was scoping out where trash cans and isolated bushes were.I am a huge salt-sweater, and I had lost too much fluid and sodium.  The biggest regret that I have from this race is not being able to go back out and cheer on other teammates.

Heidi and Nicole are nurses, and they immediately sat next to me and went into nurse mode. Water and potato chips saved the day , and within 30-45 minutes I was starting to feel human again. Somebody asked me what my time was. I replied that I didn't even know, because I forgot to stop my watch. And then I heard the number "7:19". I turned my head- "Stephanie you were 7:19"

And then I lost some of the water I had just gulped down, because I buried my head in my elbow and started crying. How embarrassing. "What's wrong?!" my teammates asked anxiously. "I think those are happy tears", one of them said. I shook my head yes and continued to blubber for minute. I had set a goal to be less than 8 hours. With the swim debacle, head-wind on the bike and stomach issues on the run I could not believe I still came through in that time.

But I never could have done it had I been alone.


We did it! Aaron, Raegan, Ryan, me, Shawn, and Heidi
This pic shows why I am great in the water (hello long legs) and suck on the bike (is there ANY muscle on those calves?!)

I learned so much from doing this race:
1. Don't start at the back of the swim wave again, It's my strong suit- own it.
2. Pee before getting on the bike!
3. Glide does not stay solid in the sun....
4. Drink more on the bike
5. Use salt and eat more on the run
6. Porta-a-potties are disgusting and HOT in the middle of the day

I also learned:

1. OCD and ADD people can actually be quite harmonious (Luv U Raegan)
2. Helping others along the way makes your own load a little lighter
3. I love wearing the Eagle
4. Stop being embarrassed or ashamed about my strength or pace. Instead, train with people faster than you and tell them how awesome they are. This will make you better in more ways than one.

But most importantly, I learned:

1. Together Everyone Achieves More

Angela The Bike Goddess, who has helped me tremendously on my weak area

Group Ride where we lost Shawn and I thought Heidi might kill him...

OWS practice! 

Shawn, Ryan, Nicole, Heidi, and me

Warm-up Sprint Triathlon, Spring 2017

Nicole, Ryan, Raegan, Heidi, and me

Eagles Eric (Man On Bike With Sequined Fanny Pack!), Matt (Ironman and Savior), and Colleen (Ironman Badass Extraordinaire)

Thank you to everyone who has been involved in this journey, from my actual teammates and family to those who cheered me on from the virtual world. One of my favorite sayings is, "It takes a village", and it is so true. This was the hardest thing I have ever done (yes, it topped labor), and I'm not above saying I'm proud of accomplishing it. I am looking forward to staying active throughout the rest of the summer and fall , and focusing on giving back to the teams and community that have helped me reach my own goal.

Next year? I think a full marathon is calling my name. I will most likely return to Ironman Ohio as well. So until then....let me know if you wanna "tri" :).