Facing Failure

I've thought about IMFL every day, non stop for the past two weeks. I thought about every morning I woke up at 4am for a long run, a boring bike session on the trainer, or cold swim before going to work. I thought about every social gathering I passed up so I could get to bed by 830 on a Friday night. I thought about the cookies I said no to - the ice cream, the pizza, the beer, all the food. I thought about the weekends that were focused on training that didn't leave enough time for other things. I literally replayed every single training moment over and over; and every single minute in the water that morning before I failed at something I wanted so bad. Heck, I thought that maybe if I could stop thinking about it, it would go away. Maybe the pain of losing, the embarrassment, the many tears I cried...maybe they'd all eventually just go away too. But I've spent the past 4 years building a blog and personal image that I hope encourages others to find a way to celebrate their successes even when they didn't win, encourages others to strive to be better today than they were yesterday, and encourages others to fight to improve no matter how they compare to other people. So if all the suckiness goes away, I feel like so does all the greatness.

I struggle finding the right words that express how I feel as a point of reference and not a sign of poor sportsmanship or overwhelmingly complainy. I don't want this to be a story of pity or unfortunate circumstances but rather a story of facing failure and figuring out what comes next.

In the six months leading up to IronMan Florida, I ran two 70.3s, competed in several sprints, set new BIG PRs, swam 137,900 meters, biked 1416 miles, and ran 872 miles. I gained focus, I lost weight, and I challenged myself to be the best athlete I could be. Along the way, I convinced (or maybe they convinced me...the details really don't matter) my husband, my father, and my uncle to join this journey with me. It was a good balance of having my husband experience training for his first IM and having both my dad and uncle (both multiple time finishers) as support, encouragement, and free coaching to get me through the process. I had relocated back to Orlando in the process and now even had Tammy there to keep me company at the butt crack of dawn (she totally love/hates me for all the morning wake up calls). The more I trained and showed myself the level of commitment and self control I had, the more I dreamt of what crossing the finish line would feel like. I thought of the precise place I would put my M-Dot tattoo. And I imagined what my next big venture would be. In a sense, the training took over. I literally planned my day around the training. Yes, I had some missteps; the snooze button is so tempting and beer tastes so delicious, but cheating a little bit kept things interesting.

Every time I felt like giving up or giving in, I revisited the famous 'Rise and Shine' video. I watch this every morning before a race to help get my head straight. And the morning of IMFL was no different. I woke at 330am to the video, my morning nutrition, and tons of family ready to cheer me to victory.

 The Racing Crew.

My awesome family all here to support and cheer.











Body marked, gear checked in, thanked my support crew, hugged my racing crew, got my jumping jacks on, cried a few ugly tears, and the start gun was just moments away. A year of dreaming of this moment and it had finally come. It was go time.

Though the waves were big, the IM staff determined that they conditions were safe to swim in, so we jumped in. I remember having a weird sense of euphoria that morning. Like I had already won the race without even starting it. I think it was that euphoric state that didn't make me scared of the waves. I knew I was a strong swimmer, yes slow, but strong. Mix that with determination and it just seemed as though I was meant to be there, at that moment, doing this race.

I planned on doing lap 1 in 55 minutes and lap 2 in 62 minutes. I planned to swim nice and steady and not to worry about being passed. I planned on focusing on one buoy to the next. But I never planned on getting sea sick. About ten minutes into the swim and just before the second buoy, I had an overwhelming sense of nausea. I might have swallowed the first round of vomit, but immediately it came back up. There wasn't a kayak near by, by a kind fellow swimmer grabbed me and helped me get through the first hurdle of vomiting (if he happens to ever read this...I'm so sorry for vomiting on you). Funny thing, it didn't even phase me. I wiped my mouth and got back to swimming. My first thought was that I might have lost some time, so if I was going to make my 55 minute goal, I needed to swim - nice, straight, and steady. I felt like I was getting back into the swing of it and again...vomit. This time though it phased me less. I distinctly remember coming up for a breath, vomiting, and going to the next stroke. I can't count how many times I did this through the first and second turn of the lap.  Just beyond the second turn and now a good 45 minutes into the swim. I needed a break. The excitement was wearing off the the reality of not being able to shake being sick was setting in. I stopped at a kayak and had a nice conversation with a volunteer. I was already dry heaving at this point but he helped me to push on and finish that lap (some of the nicest people you'll meet at a race are the volunteers).  

I made it! That is through loop 1. Whomp Whomp. I still had to get back in the water and swim another 1.2 miles. I grabbed some water but immediately it came up. Another kind volunteer and life guard was concerned on shore so insisted on swimming with me through the break. I was feeling weak but not broken and I knew I wasn't going to give up. When I was fighting with the water and cursing the waves that morning, I was the person I set out to be. Determined. Passionate. A Fighter.

I made it through the break, I rounded the first corner, I rounded the second corner, and I stopped at the same kayak for another quick breather. Over an 1 hour and 55 minutes of swimming and vomiting had finally caught up to me at that point. Both legs severally cramped up and the kayaker called it quits for me. He called the paramedics and they determined that my day would end early right there. I don't remember their exact words, but I do remember my world feeling as though it was crashing down. I remember feeling my stomach in my throat and becoming blinded from tears. I remember everything going silent as I realized my dream was dead. They granted my request to cry it out for a moment before taking me via jet ski to the shore.

The ride on the jet ski felt like an eternity. How would I explain this to people? How could I not have ever thought about the potential of sea sickness? Did I train enough? Did I not eat the right food? How would my race crew feel (after I dragged them into the mess) with me letting them down? How could I let myself down so bad?

Back on shore, time stood still as well. I just laid in the sand and cried, dry heaved, and cried some more. Hopeless, disappointed, psychically drained, and mentally wrecked. I struggled with the urge to act like a mad man. I wanted to throw my swim cap down, kick the sand, and pout like I was three again. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs like I had just witnessed a horrific crime. I wanted to run, run far away and just never come back. I literally felt like my heart was pounding out of my chest and that I would never catch my breath again. My heart was breaking. And these moments will be burned into my memory for years to come. That day will haunt me until I do eventually cross that finish line.

I knew that if I couldn't finish the race I wanted to be the best damn cheerleader I could be for my dad, uncle, and husband - who all still had no idea that I hadn't finished the race. After closely tracking each of them, I planned to catch them on the run and cheer them on. It took every ounce of my being to face the reality that I was on the wrong side of the course and even more to watch their faces as they realized the same. It was heartwarming and even more heartbreaking to see their disappointment the moment they put things together. And I don't think it was disappointment in me as much as disappointment that they knew I wouldn't get to cross the finish line with them that day. I wasn't the only one crying as I experienced that moment three separate times.

So IMFL wasn't my race but my dad, uncle, and husband all did kick butt that day...so quick side track to celebrate their glorious and well deserved finish.

Steps from the finish line, my dad and mom hug to celebrate his killer finish time (it is crazy how he is getting faster with age). A complete badass.

Nothing but smiles from my very own IronMan, who finished his first in just over 13 hours and averaged nearly 20MPH on the bike. I could not be more proud of his commitment and perseverance.

My uncle Mark as he rounds the corner to finish his 12th IronMan and a PR for him. He impresses me with his positive attitude and big heart.













Today may not be the day that I decide that I am ready to sign up for the next IM. And it may not be tomorrow. But today is the day that I've decided to face this failure and move on. Today I accept that I did a damn good job training and preparing for the unexpected. But the unexpected is just that...unexpected. Sometimes we can triumph and push through and other times the stars don't align. But most importantly, it is what I do next that defines who I want to be. This will make the snooze button less desirable. This will make saying no to a beer a little easier. This will make every mile of every run or bike that much easier. This will fuel my race season.

May my story of facing failure eventually have the happy ending I dreamt of all year long...

Stay tuned.

For the WIN!

2015 has been a physically challenging year and an emotional roller coaster. I don't think I expected the ups and downs that come with training for an IM. But the high that I experience at Augusta, I still feel 2.5 weeks later.

It Feels A Little Like This

Augusta 2014 was a great race for me. It was my first ever 70.3 and I got to cross the finish line with both my parents (they are my biggest fans). But prior to the race I struggled with some minor health issues that I felt set me back and initially defeated me. Still, I pushed through to finish the race and became even more determined to return. Back in November, I made the decision to run a IronMan race and registered for the race ready package that included IMFL and Augusta 70.3 six weeks prior. Although IMFL is the longest race and requires the most work, Augusta was my 'A' race; and I wanted some course revenge.

Over the past few weeks, I've experience those ups and downs, I've gotten up far too early too many days a week, I've put in the miles, I've not stop eaten food, I've toned up everywhere, and I've really found a deeper routed passion for the sport. Yes, I have those days where sleep seems to be the only thing I want to do, but I also have so many great workouts and accomplishments that they seem to be the part I remember.

Heading up to Augusta I was all butterflies. I was focused and driven, but scared and anxious. I knew that once I arrived, I'd be greeted by my parents yet again, and even cooler, my uncle decided to join us for the race.

We arrived the Friday before the Sunday race: got banded, swam the swim course, and ate dinner - easy night to keep the butterflies at bay.

Getting Banded Together.

Bike Check Day.

Pre-race beer with the cutest athlete to calm our nerves.

Morning of the race and we are all smiles (except mom, she felt awful and had to sit this one out). I felt like I actually got a little sleep that night. I think the beer helped. So, when the alarm went off, I was up and ready to get things going. Of course, it takes a bit of time to get through all the waves, which gave my dad, uncle, and I plenty of time for a pre-race cry fest. I don't know what kind of screwed up gene I got from them, but it became apparent that my happy cry was indeed genetic.

I spent a lot of preparation time on my transitions and moving from the swim to T1, so I love that you can tell I'm running out of the water here.

When we swam the course the Friday prior, it was obvious that the flow of the water was far less than the prior year, so I wasn't expecting a faster swim time, but when I got out of the water and saw that I did indeed swim faster, I was ecstatic. With a solid 37:38 on the swim, I was in line with the goals I set for myself.

The weather was perfect for a nice 56 mile ride. It was high 70's, overcast, and mild mist the entire ride. I definitely felt way more comfortable out there this year and felt like I was cruising along. But when I crossed the 50 mile mark, I noticed I was 14 minute behind schedule and that really fueled my fire. Somehow, I powered through the last 6 miles and made it through T2 and was then only 3 minutes behind where I wanted to be.

On to the run and I was feeling good and cruising along. I was surprised by my first 5 K and the pace I was keeping. In fact, in the first 3 miles, I had already made up those 3 minutes, so I just focused on having fun and keeping that pace steady. Here I am trying to catch my 'in the air' run pose. Not perfect, but I was doing what I set out to do...have fun.

Crazed run look. Just missed that jump. This is about half way through the run and I was already calculating that I could indeed have a PR and smash my 6:30 goal.

Before I turned the corner to the finish, I saw my father and Josh (who both had already finished and PR'd the race) and I just couldn't hold back the tears. They of course thought I was injured, but I made sure they knew I was well on my way to a really great PR. And then the tears couldn't stop, they kept flowing and the ugly cry came out.

Still crying coming down the chute.

There is nothing more exciting than seeing a year of dedication paying off. In one year of training I cut my finish time by 1 hour and 2 minutes. Hard work pays off!

Post-race photo with the cutest athlete.

A 6:22 finish time. I long doubted that I could ever break 6:30. Thanks Justin Bieber for believing in me. ‪#‎NeverSayNever‬. I'm so grateful for the support and encouragement of my friends and family. It truly has been an awesome journey...and I'm not done. And did I mention the Josh, dad, and my uncle all had PRs too. FOR THE WIN!

Another New Bike

Just after IM 70.3 Augusta, I took the only 1 year old "New Bike" in to get a small adjustment. Somehow I ended up walking out with this new beauty. Here is to new records and stronger bike times.

Indiatlantic Triathlon

I had so much fun at Pinappleman Triathlon that I last minute registered for Indiatlantic Triathlon just three weeks later. And of course, I convinced Tammy to join me.

One of my favorite things about this race is the number of people that participate. It truly is your local, small town race. Maxing out at 300 people, you get plenty of space and time to set up your transition. Not to mention you get to practically park at the start/finish line for ease of unloading the car. This is also the race that is my fastest sprint time. So once I got set up, I was ready to race!

Recently, sharks have been all over the news. Shark spotting, sharks washing up on shore, and more importantly shark attacks. Including several on the Florida coast. Although I do most of my races in Florida, most of the swims are either in lakes or in the inter coastal (although it is the Ocean, it seems less scary since there is land on both sides). As I was standing on shore, I just kept saying, 'swim fast and the sharks won't get you.' In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best thing that I could have done. Sharks were on my mind and I was not in a good spot. About a third of the way I encountered a jelly fish. And you would have thought I was getting attacked by a shark. With the wrong mind set and the sudden sting, I freaked out. I ended up having to swim to a kayak, hold on, and cry it out. And by cry it out, I mean hysterically bawled my eyes out, while the volunteer didn't know what to do, other than continuously ask me if I want to quit. Well, no, I'm not quitting, I just needed to focus and get my act together. After taking forever to finish the rest of the swim, I got my head in the right place and was able to focus on another strong bike.

The bike goes over two Florida hills or causeways as non-Floridians call them. And since I was training in DC for the last couple of months, I was actually pretty ready to tackle them on. About 2 miles in to the course I hit my first one and raced up it. I passed some people and that gave me the boost I needed to push hard for a strong bike.

On to the run, I was on a mission. I know had a horribly slow swim, a solid bike, and was on to my bet with Tammy. I can never beat her overall but I'd been doing a lot of running (and she was still recovering from her back surgery), so we made a bet on the run - whoever ran the fastest was to be served a post race beer. And although the beer was free, bragging rights were on the line. Again, I figured that I would either run hard till I passed out or till I crossed that finish line. So I ran, I ran hard, and I finished before I passed out.

Seeing the results at the finish was a little heartbreaking for me. Yes! I beat Tammy on the run. But I took 4th in my age group. And I was only off by less than a minute. I was second fastest in T1, T2, and the run; and 3rd on the bike. But last on the swim. So after taking a second to pout, I realized the big races of the year had yet to come. So I drank my glorious, bragging rights beer and cheered on Tammy's podium finish.

Pinappleman Triathlon

Pinappleman Triathlon is one of my favorite races and of course, how could I miss it this year? But with my focus on 2 70.3 races and a full IronMan races this year, I was in a completely different training mode. But heck, I knew I was putting in the work, so worth still racing and having a good time.

Of course, racing with my best training partner always makes the day better. Tammy and I setting up transition for the day and rocking our new tri kits. #badassisbeautiful

They switched up the swim course this year and I swear it got longer...if it didn't I got way slower. I felt like I was swimming strong in the water but seeing my time was frustrating and confusing at the same time. So what do you do when you aren't performing well? Push harder. And that is what I did. On to the bike I was determined to make some moves and make up the time that I felt that I was behind, so I hammered out as hard as I could. I managed to have my best course ride by almost 5 minutes that day, which I was stoked about. But, it was an extremely hot day, so by the time I got to the run, I might have overdone it. The run is one of the best because it goes through a neighborhood and everyone comes out to cheer on the racers. Even with the heat and pushing hard on the bike, I managed to pull through a solid run for a good finish. I was actually 4 minutes slower than last year...I've learned this year that training for an IronMan and for a sprint are two very different things. In fact, I might have been slower, but I was way less tired than years past due to some of the longer workouts I've done. Maybe next year I will focus on sprints and getting some big PRs!

Post race celebrations!

Set backs or new challenges?

It is true, I spent the past 4 weeks having a one person pity party. I was so frustrated to find out that I had a small medical issue that required immediate attention and would take me out of any workouts five weeks before my big debut of a 70.3 race. And that is the entirety of the five weeks. Eeek.

I think I cried for two of those weeks (I know I cry a lot...I always say that on an emotional scale of 1-10, if I am not in between 3 and 7, I will cry; happy and sad), not because I needed two back to back out patient surgeries, not because I possibly had something wrong with me, not because I hate going to the doctors, but because I was upset about the race. I have never worked so hard, ran/biked/swam so far, or been so invested in making my personal best happen that day. So yes, it sucks...it still sucks but hey, what am I to do?  The pity party has come to an end and I realized this isn't a set back, it is just another challenge on the 'Road to Augusta.' Good and bad days happen, that is inevitable; it is the triumph or failure that comes from those days that define the athlete you are meant to be. And heck, this is my first 70.3, so no matter what, I will PR.

So instead of thinking about this as a set back, I will focus on triumphing this challenge and kicking butt this upcoming weekend. Just 6 days till the big day!

Follow me on twitter for all the fun posts, awesome people I meet, and up to date photos from my journey this weekend: KaylaMManning

New Bike!

I am so excited that Josh stumbled upon a brand new bike (okay barely used) at a killer deal for me. After taking it for a quick test ride, I couldn't resist. I had to have it. It might not be the Cervelo P5 that I would love to have, but it is definitely an upgrade and I am so excited to start riding it.  And don't worry, I got a new helmet, new water bottles, and new gear to match. Got to look good on the road!

The Heart in Heartland

Last December, after completing only my first sprint triathlons, I (pretty much over night) decided to complete at half ironman in the 2014 season. With the race fast approaching and my uncertainty in the water, even after many Lucky's Lake crossings, I still wanted to test my swimming skills in a race longer than a sprint. And that is where the Heartland Olympic race comes in.

Nothing new, as I approach transition, the nerves set in and I realized that I would actually have to not drown in the water and then somehow ride 40K and run 10K following the potential drowning situation. The morning was filled with nerves, doubt, and of course tears.

First shot of the lake. Looks calm, so that is good, but 1.5K is a really, really, might I add really far way to swim. Trying to fake not being nervous, but it wasn't much after this that my tears began to fill a bit with tears. The race had both the sprint and olympic distance races that morning. So I tried to focus and warm up as the sprinter's waves each set off into the water. Once it was our turn to line up and wait for the gun, nerves came over me and the tears that filled my eyes finally started to stream down my face. A nice lady came to reassure me that everything would be alright. And I tried to reassure myself, that is what training is for and I got this.  The gun went off and I took a second to let the others go ahead and walked out to the drop off. Finally I jump in. Once I got going (maybe 25 meters out). The nerves disappeared and I was finally getting in a groove. I just focused on swimming; not fast, not hard, just strong and consistent. I never looked at my watch or worried if I was ahead of people, I just swam. Turns out, I can swim! Making it to the end and then popping out of the water to cross the mat and head into T1 was such a good feeling that day and at that moment, I knew this would be one of the most memorable races of my life.

I was seriously so thrilled with completing the swim and coming so far from just two years ago when I took swimming lessons and attempted to get in triathlon mode. And what better way to celebrate than to take take this lovely photo while trying to focus on the bike.  Okay, probably not the safest thing I've ever done, but you have to live every once in awhile!  The bike and run were great. Not my fastest but still my best effort for the day and with a smile on my face the entire time. The run portion of this race is both interesting and fun in itself. It is a 5 star loop, so lots of spectators and opportunities to talk with the other athletes, cheer each other on, and meet some new racing friends. I gave it my all that day and I think that is what puts the heart in Heartland. For my first OLY, it was one for the books and obviously now my current PR. It was a great distance and lots of fun, so I am certain I will be back next year to see what more I can do. 

I Aced the A Race

I have two "A" races this year.  Augusta 70.3, because all this training is part of my "Road to Augusta 70.3" and my first half ironman. And Pinappleman.  Pinappleman Triathlon is the only race this year that I've done before and since sprints vary so greatly, this would be the only race this season that I could directly compare to last year to judge improvement (this goes back to competing with myself).

This year, as both my parents are also training for Augusta, they decided to also register for this triathlon.  It is so cool do these kinds of events with them.  They are beasts!  Prior to the race, we were able to capture this great photo of the three of us.

And your standard pre-race, dorky smile, hiding nerves photo that I always take.

I did better in the water than I expected.  Compared to the race the previous year, I had improved by over 4 minutes in the water.  As I ran to the transition area, I was all smiles and very excited to see this accomplishment in action.  And of course, that dang beard is back!

Bike time.  Check out those fancy clip-less shoes.  I just put these on my bike days before and only had 2 opportunities to try them out prior to the race.  Regardless of that, I clipped in with ease and was off on the bike.  I knew the course was nearly flat, but expected there to be a lot of wind.

 Just as I got going on the bike, a mini-storm came through.  The winds picked up, the rain poured down, and the fun of riding through puddles and playing in the rain began. (You can't see it in this picture but I promise you...it was storming.)

Although we had a mini-storm on the bike, the sky cleared up and the sun came out for the run.  So not to disappoint, it was incredible hot for the run.  I told myself..."run till it hurts, then run through the hurt till you finish, or till you pass out."  And that is what I did.  I ran...and it hurt.  I didn't even have any push left for me to give a little gusto cross the finish line but it felt nice to definitely be cruising along faster than the previous year.

Look at that intensity...or is that the look of, "I might kill over and die."  Either way, a finish for the records.  I had accomplished over a 15 minute PR from previous year.  No matter where I finished in my age group, I couldn't help but celebrate that as a win.  The biggest win was in the swim...no the bike...no run.  Okay, lets be honest, for someone that shows up to 'Complete' races, I sure did an awesome job 'Competing' against myself in this race.






Pineappleman is the race I signed up for in 2012 and didn't have the water confidence to even start, then in 2013 it was my third race of the season and this year, I finally had the confidence up and the training consistent.  I took 4:01 off my swim, :23 off T1, 3:38 off my bike, and 7:18 off my run.  Aced that race!

The Triathlon of Horrible Photos

Not everyone can be "ridiculously photogenic guy," but lots of people are taking great tri photos.  At the Tomoka Triathlon this year, that wasn't the case for me. In fact, these photos were so bad, they were hilarious.  And when something is that hilarious, you just cannot not share.  Enjoy and be reminded, life is too short not to laugh at yourself every once in awhile.

I was really excited for this race as I knew I was ready to redeem my water time from the previous race. So bright and early we drove to Ormond Beach.  Josh was gracious enough to join me, listen to my freak outs (I had more than one this race), cheer me on, and snap chat all my friends each leg of the race before any of them were even out of bed that morning.  And this is where the laughter begins...

Have you ever seen a more graceful, pretty, water exit?  Probably.  This is just horrible.  I look like a drunk guy with a five o'clock shadow that wanted to wear very bright lipstick (I swear I didn't have lipstick on).  Some may call it the "Josh" look (sans the lipstick). And even though you can't tell, I am very pleased here with my efforts in the water and ready to knock out the causeway crossings for both the bike and the run.

Why do I never see the camera?  I could at least smile if I did.  Instead, I look miserable. I look like I hate this sport, and I look like I am ready to be done.  Again, you can't tell, but I rocked my way through that transition and hopped on my bike proudly, ready again to have "strong mind, strong legs."  The causeway crossings were tough, but I made it up and finished the bike stronger than any race previous to this one.

See I was happy...yeah, a decent photo...but, what's that?

At closer look, I hadn't known I had a beard.  So yes, I was gabbing on the bike course with many people all while my drunken 5 o'clock shadow still existed on my face.  Why don't people tell you these things? But yes, you can tell that at least I am having fun.  A reminder of why I do this.  And I love the run.  It is my favorite part.

Some point during the run, I wiped sweat from my face and managed to finish the race without my beard. Happy with my overall effort and time.  Tomoka Sprint Triathlon will be a definite race for next year.

Ice Blocks

The start of the race, Ocala Hits Triathlon, was delayed to wait for the sun to rise; not sure if they wanted the sun for the light it would provide or for the potential heat it would provide.  Waiting on the shore that morning, the air was 52 degrees and the water was 64, I noted that doing a triathlon in March may be too early in the season...even in Florida.  This was the first race of the season and the kick off for my official "Road to Augusta 70.3."  I was, as usual, nervous.  Super nervous in fact.  I always doubt myself when it comes to the swim. And even with a few open water swims for the season (at Lucky's Lake), I was still nervous about the 750 meter swim.  Most sprints are only 400 meters.

Pre-race nerves setting in. Trying not to freeze, cry, or quit.

Coach Tammy giving me a prep talk.  Still dying inside here.

And we are off!  Yes, I am one of the people still running at that point.  I am always confused to when the right time to start swimming is, when the water is barely waist deep.  But eventually I had to start swimming.  And that I did.  When it comes to open water, I am hesitant to just "swim." I know that sounds strange, but I constantly check my watch, stop to breath "extra," and worry about people around me.  So my goal was to worry little about time and focus on only looking up to site.  I did stop a few times, but my swim felt good...

But when I saw my time, I was mad...I was really mad.  This is me stomping and pouting my way out of the water cause I was 3 minutes slower than what I wanted.  For a brief moment, I was questioning why I even wanted to do a tri. I spend several hours a week in the gym, I give up some social time, I give up sleep, I give up my weekends...for what?  To get up at 4am on a Saturday, drive to another city, freeze my booty off, stand among people thought to be crazy by their friends, and swim a crappy time after all that hard work...EEERRRRRR.

But, I would at least finish.  Let's be honest, the race shirt was pretty cool; and you can't wear it unless you finish.  So get it together; run through transition, strip the wet suit, grab the helmet, and hop on the bike is exactly what I did. I wasn't much happier on the bike for the first mile or two.  I was wet and cold and pissed...really pissed.  But then, that anger turned into something glorious, strength.  I reminded myself, that just because my swim was weak, didn't mean that my bike or run had to be weak; strong mind = strong legs.  I repeated that mantra in my head over and over and over.  All of a sudden, I was having fun again.  Hauling butt out there and taking names.  Before I knew it, I was back at transition and ready to rock the run.

The combination of wet feet and then the cool breeze created on the bike, made for an interesting run.  I hadn't noticed on the bike, but once I hopped off, I realized my feet were ice blocks. And every s-i-n-g-l-e step HURT.  Or maybe it burned.  Either way, I didn't like it.  But since my attitude had changed so dramatically, I didn't care.  I just thought, "the faster I run, the faster my feet thaw." So I went hard and fast and tried to make up those 3 minutes from the water.

Doing work and pushing hard AKA huffing and puffing my way to the finish line.

What could have easily halted my training for triathlons turned into an amazing race with great lessons and hunger for more.  I say all the time that there are completors and competors that show up to these races. I've always considered myself to be the completor.  There for the race, but more importantly the experience.  But this race help me to realize that even though I am not winning these things, I am winning against myself (I know corny...but true). And every time I wake up earlier, go further, push harder; I get stronger both mentally and phsically.  That is winning in my book.



And by some strange happening, I place that day too.  I took second place in my age group. Tammy totally rocked in the OLY taking second in her age group as well.  Here is us celebrating the win for the day and the kick off to an amazing season ahead and the Road to Augusta 70.3.