Back in May 2018, I made a decision to start my own website. I had finished a brutal race day at 70.3 Chattanooga and what came out of that experience was that it was time to make the leap to sharing my writing, my thoughts, my growth and my coaching on a larger platform than Facebook. In short, I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and put myself out in the world via my own website for all things coaching, triathlon and growth.
As you can guess, I only had the nerve to purchase the domain and hide the website…until I was ready. Truth is, we are never ready to do most hard things (getting married, having children, completing endurance events for the first time, being vulnerable with others). So here I am three years later, saying to myself, “Self, enough of this. Stop bullshitting yourself and get busy.” With that, I welcome you to the first installment of my online journal and the beginning of me facing this fear and crafting a website home I can call mine.
Enjoy my race report for this year’s 70.3 Chattanooga. it’s a long read but worth it.
TRANSITION PREP TO SWIM START
Things went awry early on.
Vector pedal with no battery and door. I rolled with it and asked myself WWCRD (what would Coach Robbie do). Needed portapotty but they were all still saran wrapped and locked. Decided to hold it as we'd hear swim corral called very soon and I'd hit the outside potties. Then we heard the first swim corral called and I told John that I was going with the next one. But what came next was the National Anthem. Realized I had left Liquid Shots in my tri bag next to my bike. Grabbed those and put in helmet. Then we heard the swim corral for 35-37min called...and I was pissed. With some time to think during the long walk out of transition, I realized one of my cardinal issues (in life and in covid times in particularly) had been triggered...I was following the rules despite them not making sense to me. It was at that moment that I decided to say screw the rule of "You must walk behind the volunteer with the swim corral sign all the way to the swim start" and walked quickly to the potties outside of transition and then up to swim start. I asked John if he was sweating already. He said no but I'm a sweater. I decided my RPE was way too high for this early in the day and rolled back the effort to a casual walk knowing it meant I'd start considerably later than I wanted. I turned to him and quietly said, "I'm about to cry. I think it's all the stress of covid life and logistics coming to a head." This man never quits on me. He said he understood and I had every right to be frustrated right now. The swim start area was a complete clusterfuck. I made a conscious decision to just enjoy the day. I met Jenny Lo and chatted. Linda, my training buddy, appeared. So did an On Pace friend. Linda went to talk to a lady coached by her coach. I told her we were heading to dock. She didn't follow and I didn't care. I had been out of Spring and Skratch for some time and knew I had to worm my way up to the dock. Focused on being politely patient while pushing my way through. Got to dock, saw 4 timing mats duct-taped in orange and said bye to John as we both jumped in.
Images of the C26 racers captured by C26 Squad. I’m bottom row, second from left. They lit my face up. Ever grateful for supporters everywhere.
THE SWIM … 1.4 MILES OF NO FLOW
It's been a hot minute since I've been this anxious during an OWS. In all fairness, it's been a long forking time since I have swam in a river on race day...Louisville 2018 (if that can even count as a swim, more like a waterslide). So much stopping to catch breath in the first 600yd. I counted them now...6. I knew the water wasn't moving. It felt like I was working hard to move so slow. Lots of people zig zagging the closer I'd get to the buoys, which is where the current allegedly was per RD. But the volume of people going all over the place triggered my anxiety because I thought of my athlete Trent and how hard it would be for him to remain calm. So I got curious...how do we stay calm? Swim where you can stay calm even if it slower water and stop taking on other people's anxiety. Finally able to settle in, focus on my breath, slow my left arm down and be purposeful in my stroke. This swim felt like it went on forever. Finally at island, finally under first bridge. Then the water got choppy, which I thought was really odd with no current. I was smart enough to know this meant motor-powered traffic, which means someone(s) was in trouble. Put it out of your mind, J-Ho, just keep swimming even if it means more popping up to sight. All weekend I was confusing this race with Louisville. I saw the concrete steps and thought, "Oh yeah, swim out is so close." Uh no, a bit farther to go, J-Ho. Finally saw the swim chute bumpers and kicked it into gear to get to stairs because I was so beyond done being in the wetsuit (bad idea asking John to zip me up; too tight at neck despite telling him to keep it loose) and with swimming. Arms were tired and I was kicking myself for not doing an over race distance OWS in preparation for the day. Got to stairs and big guy volunteer grabbed arm and yanked me...right into the first stair. Left quad jammed up under the step. I yelped and told him, "Stop, let me get my footing." He apologized, but I knew shit happens...just add that to the list behind vector pedal and carry on. Nothing to do about it.
T1 … AKA HOW MUCH RUNNING UNTIL WE GET TO TRANSITION
Sweet Baby Jesus, that was a long ass transition, physically. I was worn out after that swim. Struggled to get wetsuit to unzip (I will not complain about John, I will not complain about John, I made that choice, that's on me). Truth be told, my heart was no longer in this race. BAM!!!! Nicholle!!!! And the C26 Squad all in a line at the fence!!! Nothing gets me out of my brain like people cheering me on. I immediately looked up, stopped fussing with getting my 2nd arm out and went from walking to running through the group giving high-fives. God bless them all!!! Attitude readjusted. It was then that I decided it was time to make enjoying the day my first goal...well, right behind being safe in the conditions. Proud of my transition time. I didn't dawdle. I was purposeful. Even seeing that my chain had gotten bumped off the ring in the rack (both the bikes next to me had their transitions set up after I left for swim start, so something must have happened during that window) didn't rattle me. Just got dirty quick to fix it and rolled yards beyond the mount line saying, "Robbie says walk way past the line and to the side, then mount." I hope people enjoyed my commentary.
THE BIKE …
I LOVE BIKING!!!
Completely uneventful. Well, sort of.
Started off super jazzed to be on the bike. Kept hearing John in my head saying, "You know what z1-2 feels like. You've got this." Kept asking myself if this felt like RPE of 5-7. Kept saying yes. Tracks were surprisingly good this year. Lumber with carpet worked amazingly well. With those knocked off the day's to-do list, I found myself saying out loud to myself, "I fucking love biking, which is saying a lot when I used to call running my ice cream. What the hell has happened to me? I just love biking so much. I don't even know if I'm faster and I don't really care. I just love biking. It's my favorite now. How I have grown." You'd think at least one of the people passing me would have said something to me with that monologue. But no. I kept saying good morning and getting no response at all. So I said out loud, "Ya'll be taking yourselves too seriously today."
Rough roads had me saying out loud, "Welcome to St. Elmo, folks." Saw yard signs that read "You are worthy. Don't quit." I got choked up. Spectators, volunteers and police always responded to my thank-you's. And just like that we were out on beautifully smooth asphalt. I looked up to see the Welcome To Georgia sign and said, "Guys, we're in Georgia already!!" No response for people riding near me. Whatever. I kept being me. I said good morning to the birds. I took in the beautiful scenery.
I stayed to the right and let sooooo many people pass me that I wondered how in the world there were so many sucky swimmers who started after me. I set a goal of getting a race photo like Arin's. So I practiced riding with my chin in my right hand and I sang my happy worker bee song of "ladadee ladadoo" and SOMEONE ACTUALLY INTERACTED WITH ME. The woman passed me laughing. I told her thank you.
So the warning signs of the weather conditions alerted early for me. I finished my first bottle at 38min in. I refilled from cages and made a mental note that I needed to balance the need for hydration with how far out the next aid station was. Grabbed a bottle of water at the first aid station. Big gulps and squirted half of it on head before I had to toss it. About Mile 23, I decided to refill cockpit hydration unit with my last bottle in cages so that I was ready for Andrews. Good call because that climb is a sneaky one. I had just put empty bottle back in cage and was listing C words after seeing a pink C spray painted on the right side of the road. C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me. C is for Coffee, C26, Crushing...oh shit, Climbing. Here it comes, shift now and get ready. BAM!!! Passed people on that climb. Felt like big gear work. No scream legs. So fun!!! Lady said she need bike tech because she was stuck in high/low gear and had to walk up Andrews. At the 30mi aid station I rolled in with a plan...toss the insulated pink bottle I don't care for, grab water and put in cage. Got the water, saw bike tech guy sitting on scooter, yelled at him to look for lady in Felt jersey about 2-3 miles back, saw last chance trash was up ahead, dumped the water in the cockpit hydration unit fast and tossed it. Then wondered what was up with all the splashing. Looked down to see the lid was gone, must have gone with the bottle when I tossed it. That hasn't happened before. Saw one half of the rubber lid floating in the bottom. Cue reframing...this is actually a good thing. Now I can easily dump the empty nuun tube full of skratch right in. The bad thing is that with no lid you lose a fair amount to splashing when it is still fairly full and with rough roads. So I decided it was better to drink it quickly than lose it to splashing. Not my race day plan but we have to modify in the moment. It's all about problem solving while still moving forward and keeping your body fueled and hydrated as best you can.
More rough roads. Found myself riding through a caved in section as a woman passed on my left. When I grunted with the jostling, she apologized for forcing me into the road's ditch. I said no worries, we pass on the left and stay on the right, rules are rules for a reason. THIS IS HUGE FOR ME!! Lousville 2018, I bitched and moaned that I sucked at biking and when you suck at it you have to ride through all the craters and potholes because you have to stay right so people can drop you like a bad habit. It's my trigger of feeling not good enough that was getting fired up. NO FUCKING NOT GOOD ENOUGH STORY PLAYING IN MY HEAD!!! I wasn't taking anything personally. WHOA!!! I've grown.
And cockpit hydration unit empty about Mile 40. Stayed the course on effort, telling myself that booking it for 5 miles would only double down on a bad situation and that going easy for 5 miles would be only 15 minutes of pedaling on fumes. This is where I started feeling the heat. The shady sections felt cool. Decided it would be good assessment of hydration status if I could pee on bike. Grateful to say I unleashed on the screaming downhill. And then I was confident in my plan. Went into the last aid station knowing I'd be stopping. I wanted insurance for the last 11 miles. I filled cockpit hydration unit with gatorade and my only bottle in the cage with water. Then I grabbed a second bottle of water and gulped it down and sprayed my head. Off I went and back on beautiful asphalt.
Negative Nelly rolled up and started spewing her sad song. I nodded and told her to go ahead as we can't ride side by side or that close together. Incidentally I never saw a single USAT official. I no longer let negativity into my mind. That intake valve is closed. She went ahead and then I caught her on the city roads. Just held my hand up as I cruised by. I was feeling really good. All gatorade gone and I was working on the water. I was looking forward to a strong run off the bike thanks to riding by feel (no mph on bike computer screen, only HR and total time and total mileage). I knew my mph was 16 something. I knew I was slower than 2018 but I felt soooo much better.
T2: WHERE THE HECK DOES THE RUN REALLY START?
Another long transition but fast actual time at rack for me. Dismounted and took bike shoes off. I knew my feet were swelling from the ball of the foot hurting the last 5ish miles. Ran into transition with bike and carrying shoes in left hand. Applied sunscreen to arms, face and neck. Got shoes on. Debated cooling towel and opted to not take it. That was a bad decision. Stuffed ice from cooler into bra. Grabbed visor, belt, camelback and throwaway bottle full of mostly melted ice. And off I went. It was really hard for me to know where the actual T1 started and where the end of T2 was. I had asked volunteers on Saturday and got conflicting info.
THE RUN: AN ICE SOCIAL
I was feeling hot but strong in the shade around the back of transition and the out-and-back at the Landing. Saw my training buddy Linda come in on the bike. Started taking in Spring right out of the gate despite staying on track on the bike with Liquid Shot every 15min no matter what and topping it off with a last swig rolling into bike in. Legs felt good, really good. But my left arch was hurting and I surmised it was swelling in first 10min of run making laces feel tight. Stopped and fixed that on a perfectly placed concrete block under SR 27. Was trotting up the first climb and then got to Riverfront Parkway climb. And that's when I said to myself, "Self, don't be stupid. Be like Robbie. Walk the climbs and run the downs and flats. Be smart so you finish this long day." At the first aid station, strategy became walk through aid stations to put ice in bra, on head with flipped visor and down back of neck with camelback holding it there and ice in throwaway bottle for hands and reapplying to those spots and for spirting melted ice onto head. I told myself to trot (an athlete of mine uses this word all the time and it sounds fun compared to jog) between aid stations to keep RPE in check.
While walking up the climb on Riverside, some kind man in a C26 kit put their hand on my right shoulder and said, "Finish strong, C26." And they were gone running. With that I started running again. I wish I knew who that was. I want to thank that man for getting me out of my head and looking down at the ground to trotting with my head held high. Saw John through the trees on the riverwalk. He looked to be hurting. I momentarily thought about working to catch him. Then I said to myself, "Self, don't be fucking stupid." Kept moving, worked my plan, watched for C26 kits, encouraged people as I passed them, kept eating and drinking. Walked up Battery and saw Mike. God bless him. He asked how I was. Me: I learned today you can execute the bike perfectly but that doesn't change the weather. He asked if the flipped visor really worked. I told him I learned it in Chattanooga in 2018 from a guy on the run. And off I went with spirit boosted.
Was doing good and then...D'oh, hard stop while running over Veterans Bridge. Camelback empty. I drank 50oz of Nuun in 1:15. ALERT ALERT, HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!! AGAIN!!! Ok, get busy problem solving. Body said I don't want to refill the damn thing, such a PIA. Brain said you have no choice, it's too early to dump it, you must refill with water or gatorade. So I stopped at Frazier aid station and it took all of 3 minutes to refill it (should have picked gatorade but I hate warm gatorade) and do ice protocol, which now included 2 cups of water on head.
My absolute favorite engagement photo. Griffey stole the show. I miss my best friend, my first angel. Thank you for visiting me at Chattanooga, Griffey, I don’t know how you pulled that off.
On the pedestrian bridge, John caught me and we shuffled while chatting. He said his back was hurting bad. Then we saw the C26 Squad and damn if my spirits weren't on Cloud 9. Off the bridge, I told John to go, to run. He balked. At the split for the finish line, I yelled at him "Go already. Just run and get it over with. Go already." And I went right, saw an old Brittany Spaniel and asked the human if it was indeed a Brittany. When she said yes, I yelled, "FUCK YEAH!!!" She loved my enthusiasm but had no idea why I was crying without tears. That's my first dog as an adult, my best friend who saw me through lots of change (single, then married, then discovering husband was an alcoholic before I ever met him and was threatening suicide when I told him I was filing for divorce, then the move home to St. Louis, then the bankruptcy thanks to ex defaulting on a loan, then nursing school, then a cancelled engagement 2 weeks before a wedding, then moving in with my mother, and best of all meeting John Powers). Griffey passed away shortly after John and I got married. She's one of my angels that visits from time to time. And there she was. I haven't seen her much since Grete arrived. My heart exploded and I knew Griffey was watching over me.
The Athlete known as Hobby Lobby and Elmo. This guy was a hoot. I wish he had had a better race day, but I’m sure he learned a heck of a lot and will be back out there again. Maybe he’ll join me in 2022.
The next God/Universe/Higher Power moment came when a lady asked what my name was and said she was new to C26 and chased down my butt shimmying in my C26 shorts. Brandi Watkins and I walked and talked for a bit. Then we took off trotting and she dropped me. An older guy asked if Robbie was my coach. I said yes and he said, "Me too." That turned out to be Keith Bates. We walked and talked a bit. Then he said I needed to get back to running. Came cross another C26 lady who turned out to be Emily. Talk about a great mental distraction looking for C26 kits.
Made the turn into the parking lot toward the riverwalk and heard a saxophone. I started crying. The Universe sent a guy playing a saxophone in the middle of that desolate parking lot to remind me Harmonica Man playing in the dark at IMLOU 2018 on both loops of that run course. God bless you, Harmonica Man and Saxophone Man.
Saw Trent's friend who put wetsuit on inside out walking behind me on the riverwalk out-and-back by the aid station formerly known as the Hawaiian Luau. He was wearing an Elmo jersey to coordinate with Trent's Cookie Monster jersey. I yelled, "Hey, Elmo. I see you." No response. I yelled again. No response. I yelled, "Lance, I forking see you." He responded with "I'm done. I'm not going to make it." I yelled to him, "Stop the negativity. Look up and put ice everywhere. You've got time." I grabbed pretzels and trotted off.
D'oh!!! PROBLEM!!! ALERT!!! AGAIN!!! Camelback empty just short of Mile 10...with pretzel in my dry mouth. I started coughing. Guy walking next to me told me to stop choking already. I told him pretzels with nothing to wash it down was a really bad idea. Ryan Wheeler from Cincinnati offered half of his unopened water bottle that he had just picked up at the aid station. He poured half in his empty gatorade cup and gave me the half empty bottle. When a stranger does that for you, you walk with them and embrace the beauty that is the triathlon community. I learned a lot. Ryan is married to his 2nd wife, is a security attorney, 1 of 3 of them in the entire state of Ohio, he has 6 kids and they range from 16 to 18 months, he doesn't train at all over the winter but thinks a trainer would be beneficial, he self-coaches and does a lot of late night workouts. So when he asked what I do when not training, I laughed so hard. Then he said he was really curious. I said,
"Would you believe I'm a triathlon coach and a retired nurse?"
Choking on pretzels makes for interesting race photos. Soon after this I said, “Gosh I hope my bike photos are amazing.” As you can see, they were.
I met his wife and oldest child on Battery. At that aid station we lost track of each other while I emptied the camelback's pockets into my jersey pockets and said goodbye to the camelback I bought while training for my first marathon and first 70.3 back in 2016. I told the inanimate object that we'd been through a lot, she had served me well and her tour of duty was up. I dropped her in the trash can and took off running with my throwaway bottle of ice water after shotgunning 2 cups of warm gatorade.
Ran the mile to the Frazier aid station and did 2 more cups of gatorade and threw water on my head. No more need for the flip visor ice treatment. I took off and yelled, "Cheer us on" at the folks at the patio bar there. They ate my schtick up. Turned onto pedestrian bridge and said out loud to myself, "Feet up, lift your feet up" at every chewed up section. Drank the melted ice from the throwaway bottle...and threw it in a trashcan. I felt like I was flying. Saw the C26 crew. high-five to Coach and amazing support people. Then I heard a voice call my name. Dani, Trent's wife, was right next to the C26 crowd. The Universe loves me.
Came off the bridge to 3 guys in Base kits walking in a row. I yelled, "Come on, guys, run this in. We're almost there." No response. "We run to the finish line. Come on!! Chase me!!!" If they did, I had no idea nor saw them. Have I mentioned that I was flying? I could hear Grete yelling at me, "Make it hurt more, mom." I was in the finish chute on the carpet when I heard John yell, "J-Ho, goooo!!" That's a hard stop. I ran to him, he said, "What are you doing?" I kissed him and took off saying, "We don't get here alone." Crossed the finish line with tears in my eyes and a kiss to heaven for all my angels and supporters at home.
My goal was to race with gratitude. I achieved that. My goal was to express my fitness after consistent work since November 2019. I achieved that. My goal was to embrace the day in all its ups and down, its glory and problem solving, its mental struggles and supportive community. I achieved that. My goal was to celebrate surviving covid and the return to my happiest place, to where I feel fully alive. I achieved that.
What am I most proud of?
My attitude, effort and execution. Not a single moment of the itty bitty shitty committee. Not a single moment of sad, demoralized tears. Not a single moment of chasing a finish time. Not a single moment of self-judgment. That said, I'm so forking proud of my athlete and friend Trent. He entrusted me with his training, let go of the self-doubt, embraced the process, kept getting out of his comfort zone, executed his race day perfectly and, best of all, finished with a smile on his face running through the finish line. I'm most proud of my mental growth and of his. And that is exactly why I do long course triathlon…to ever grow into the best version of myself. A better athlete, better coach, better mother, better wife, better friend, better human being. Stay grateful.