It was titled “Sports Quiz: Kelly Handel Williamson – This Is Your Life.” My father retired about a year  ago and while at first he was going stir crazy, he’s settled really nicely into retired life and keeps himself very busy. Sometimes he occupies his time with email forwards between he and his old man friends. It’s not uncommon for me to receive 6-8 at a time. I may read 2-3 (sorry dad). I told him that if this was some email about shit that took place in the 50s and 60s, he could skip me; I was not around and I don’t know what they are talking about. He assured me this was ‘relevant’.

So I get 5 different photos attached and his instructions are as follows. “Kelly, here is your test of recall. For each photo, give me the year, month, and if you’re REALLY good you’ll tell me how you fared at the event. And no cheating. Good Luck!”

He sent me five photos of me at races or events, all between 2002 and 2009. Upon looking at these, it just made me think; and smile. Each one brought back distinct memories; maybe a good or maybe a mediocre race, but moreso just how much I have been through. But what really struck me was, here I am sitting here trying to think up how to re-hash my past two races, neither of which I was completely thrilled with. But does that really matter? Without all of those ups and downs, without each and every time that I went out there and put myself in the arena, we’d not have any of these memories. It threw everything into perspective; and while I didn’t happen to knock it out of the park the past 2 weeks, I can be thankful and appreciative for so much more than the results I have accumulated over the past 10 years.

 St. Anthony’s 5150 was something I was really looking forward to. I was 5^th last year and hoped to improve on that. I love going short and I was feeling ready for it. I was prepared for a faster swim, a hard bike and a quick and speedy run. I actually look just as forward to this trip because it is a Mom-Daughter trip; each year my mom and I meet in Tampa and she and I hang for St A’s. In short, the swim was extremely wavy and choppy and I felt like a small jellyfish in a big ocean. I was actually laughing at myself about halfway through. I came out of the water 2-3 minutes down from the leaders. Oops, not the plan. Onto the bike: short, fast and hard. Unfortunately, the legs, yet again, were flat; completely and totally heavy and nonresponsive. Sucks when that happens. I carried on, anxious for a fast 10k whereby I would reel women in! Yes! Well when you get off and you see nobody ahead of you, and you’ve only got 6 miles to go, that’s not a good thing. I ran my ass off as if I was in contention for the win; as I would run if I was in 2^nd or 20^th (pretty sure I was in 20^th, at least). I finished up in 14^th place, with a great run time, but overall a very frustrating race.

I was fully convinced I was going to skip St George. I was so tired of feeling awful on the bike, with pain in my quads; I didn’t see the need to go to a huge event only to know my form was lacking; almost feeling certain I knew what the outcome would be. My mom of course supported my decision; she didn’t want to see her daughter beat herself up any more. J However upon a lot of self reflection and chatting with Derick, I realized that by skipping St. George, I was not accomplishing anything. Sure I would take myself out of the situation whereby I may not do well; I may spare myself that ‘bad’ feeling. I could assure that my confidence would not take another hit. At the same time, maybe I would have a good day. Maybe my bike legs would be there; and what would I do if I skipped it and never knew how well I could have done? I knew I would be angry at myself if I were watching it from Austin, not being there, wondering “what if”.

I have never been one to bail on anything for ‘fear of failure’. Admittedly, I had a bit of that going into St. George. And to me, that is total bullshit. I was healthy, not sick, not injured; and my fitness was good judging by my overall training and my running. So, it was all systems a go; onto St. George, and I had 5 days to get my head in the right place.

Thankfully, I completely managed to do just that. I moved on, put St. Anthony’s behind me, and focused on all of the positives. I felt great the week leading into it; had a strong 50 mile ride mid-week. Weather was beautiful, lake was picture perfect, and the hills were endless. I was excited to see how I fared amongst such a stellar group of women. To me, just getting to the start line with this mindset, I felt like I had already accomplished ‘something’.

The race panned out well. Swim was wetsuit legal (used the Zoot Z Force 4.0) and given that my last wetsuit swim was Galveston where I panicked, this was a huge success; I was relaxed and while I lost the top women at the start, I closed the gap and bridged up by the end; exiting within 10 seconds of the leaders. This emphasizes yet again that I swim great in calm conditions and like a scared kitten in waves. Always something to work on! Onto the bike and I was crushing it on the first climb; my legs felt strong, snappy, and like they were ‘there’! Bingo! Needless to say, I continued to feel good but I continued to get passed throughout the bike by a handful of women. Laura Bennett and I played cat and mouse which was awesome. She is someone I have utmost respect for and it was such good energy to be around her on the bike. I exited the bike knowing I had a lot of time to make up, not sure how much, but that if I wanted to be ‘in’ this race, the run was my chance to do it. I felt strong from the start, though the first 4 miles were by far the toughest. After that it seemed my legs came around; it was just a question of if the gap to the Top 3 was within my reach. I dug and dug and dug, and at the Mile 11 marker, I started to give it everything I had in me as it was mostly downhill from there on in. I closed to within about 10 yards of 4^th place by the finish chute, but Annabel (Luxford) peeked back and had a kick in her; I on the other hand was fully kicked out. I crossed the line in 5^th; not stoked, but thankful. (And even more excited to quickly learn that Meredith Kessler had been in 2^nd halfway through the run, and ended up FIRST! I could not have been happier for this girl.)

And so, what did I walk away from St. George with?

1) I was proud that I faced my fear and apprehension, and raced; tossed aside the worry of not being able to defend the US Pro Champ title and attacked it with all I had. I was very happy to post a great run split, even if it didn’t get me to the podium; I left nothing in me.

2) My power on the bike was ‘better’. It has been very mediocre this season; St. George was the best power file I have seen. While I am not data obsessed, training with an SRM and using power is a marker; and I use those markers. It was encouraging to see that the power is moving in the right direction.

3) I could not possibly have done this without the support system; and for that, I am so grateful. My husband Derick who kindly nudged me to soldier onto St. George; yet again, he was right. My sponsors who are there for me win or lose; even if it’s not a win on the day, you are guaranteed I gave it all I had.

4) Kelly Handel Williamson: This Is Your Life. Win or lose, this is my life; in the words of my father. This Is It.  And ‘it’ is made by doing; by figure out, by winning; losing; struggling; succeeding. Getting frustrated.  Trying to see perspective. Asking questions; not knowing answers. Savoring the good, rolling with the bad. Being resilient. Cutting yourself some slack. Kicking yourself in the ass every so often. Appreciating those around you. Living in the moment. Living with integrity. More importantly, walking away knowing you stayed true to yourself and you simply did your best.

Thanks so much for reading…and of course, there’s gotta be another one around the corner, right?

See y’all at Rev 3 Quassy in June.

Derick and I headed down on Friday and that evening, I attended a Tri Night with a local shop, Fit Tri Run, there in downtown Galveston. Kim and Steve started the shop in 2009, and they happen to be a large retailer for Zoot as well. I was there from about 6-8pm, and after mingling with people, I told them about my ‘story’, how I got involved in the sport and then answered any questions they had; any and all. It was a great turnout, and it is so much fun to get to interact with fellow triathletes; many beginners, but of course some fairly experienced. It makes me realize how much I have LEARNED over the years and how much I can really ‘give back’ to the sport via these laid back, interactive chat sessions. I had the chance to finally meet one of my athletes as well, Jim Casey (pictured below) who threw down a 30 minute PR on Sundays race! A big thank you to Zoot and Fit Tri Run for hosting this, and to all who took the time to come out.

After the chat session, we hit up dinner at Luigi’s with a good friend. Best Italian food in all of Galveston hands down! Derick was fiddling with his new camera and came up with this artsy photo of me, bread, and wine.

Onto the race! Saturday I slept in, pedaled for about 40 minutes, and then spent an hour with Memorial Hermann at their booth at the Expo. Again a nice chance to talk to the experts there (Anthony Falsone, ‘the man’ for strength and conditioning, and Penny Wilson, nutrition guru), as well as meet many athletes racing on Sunday. Pablo Gomez came by, who lives in Austin, works at Jack & Adams and is a little badass! He went 4:25 to take 3rd in the Mens 18-24 division. Big future for him!

Race day came, bright and early, 4am wake up call as usual (7am start). I was feeling fairly relaxed. I would say less nervous than San Juan, but with the same focus and ambition; that I would really love to be able to defend my title. That said, I had done a bit of thinking since the last race and I realized that this time, my focus would be solely my race…good swim, good bike, good run…let the chips fall where they do. I had put a bit too much pressure on myself for San Juan and I did not want to do that this time around. I know myself well, and I know I operate well under being relaxed and excited to just go and enjoy racing. I tried to find this ‘Happy Kelly Space’ going into Texas 70.3.

It was a wetsuit swim, and I wore my Zoot Z-Force 4.0 suit (long sleeved). We took off right at 7:03(ish), 3 minutes behind the pro men. I tried to take out the first ‘stretch’ very fast. I knew that Haley Chura was in the mix because my friend Billy has been bragging about her for about a year now. Haley just turned pro and she happened to beat all of us pro ladies in Kona out of the water (as an age grouper, fastest female swim overall!) last fall. I took note. I tried to really push that first few hundred meters, and it caught up to me. I didn’t want to mention this in my race report but Derick told me I should…he’s probably right. I actually stopped three separate times within the first 300 meters, as I felt like I could not catch my breath. To be blunt, it scared the shit out of me. I stopped once, treaded, tried to relax, then went. Swim swim swim… about 2 minutes later, it happened again. Same thing. Talk about a mental challenge! I told myself “Kelly, you’re fine. Relax. Breathe. Relax. Chill out. You’re fine.” (repeat, repeat, repeat). It was not until we made the first turn around the buoy that I finally began to settle in. Not fun. So there you go, it happens to ALL OF US. Once I calmed the hell down, I realized “Damn, I am getting hot!” The water was about 64F, and I tend to get warm pretty quickly in a wetsuit. Note taken, anything over low 60′s and I need to go sleeveless! Needless to say, the swim continued and I exited in about 3rd, only a minute behind super swimmer Haley! Not so bad.

Onto the bike, my approach was go like hell. I have been pretty frustrated with my cycling legs as of late, and I was really excited to get out there and give it all I had; try to put myself back into last years mindset, when I managed to hold the lead through the first 28 miles. Well damn.. no matter how much you may try to replicate your perfect day, it just doesn’t always go that way!! Such is life. I had a couple of women ahead of me from the start, and unfortunately, I had a few more pass me throughout the ride. I felt decent on my QR Illicito with my Reynolds RZR 46/92 combo, but not stellar. I did not have the ‘aching quads’ that I had experienced in my first two races quite so bad, but I knew I was not having the day I would prefer out there on the bike. To be honest, I had thoughts of stopping. I know that is terrible, right? But I acknowledged that I was feeling sorry for myself. My body was healthy, strong, and there was nothing wrong…I just didn’t like the position I was in as the bike progressed. I told myself, “Suck it up, that’s no reason to quit. Keep on it.” And that I did. As I finally cruised back into Moody Gardens (the final 2 miles or so), I stood up and tried to shake out the legs a bit. I knew I would have serious work cut out for me on the run.

The fact that I had serious work cut out for me (I had no idea how much work) was verified when I ran out of T2 and the announcer said “And there goes Kelly Williamson, she has got some work to do.” Awesome! Thank you for verifying. I soon found out that I had 8 minutes to make up on 1st. I put my head down and took off. I was stoked to quickly notice that my ‘run legs’ felt like they had finally decided to return! I didn’t feel the usual snap in Panama or San Juan, so that was encouraging. I think I started the run in 7th or 8th place, and by about mile 4 or 5, I had managed to move into 2nd. I felt very strong, but hearing all of the cheers only made it all the easier to dig that much deeper. So many friends out there! I didn’t want to disappoint!

I kept my head down and kept digging until the very end, and I closed the 8 min deficit to 2 minutes (and 2nd place); I was very pleased with the end result. I had almost pulled out in the swim early on due to panic; but I was able to talk myself back into control. I was feeling very sorry for myself on the bike; but managed to acknowledge this and keep my attitude positive. But one underlying motivator with me all day long was Pete Zucker. Pete was the best friend of my manager, Chris McCrary.  He passed away of ALS only two weeks before this race. While I never met Pete, I have followed his journey the past few years, and I have seen the hard work that Chris has done with some amazing fundraising efforts. Lou Gehrig’s is an ugly disease, there are no two ways about it. I only felt it appropriate that at the end of my race, I honor Pete by doing the Blazeman Roll. If you are not familiar with this, please take the 5 minutes to watch the video. It will change your life.  I battled with the decision to “roll”. I did not want to do this because I did not want to draw attention to myself; on the other hand, I wanted to do it to honor Pete; and if it made one single person ask what I did that for and realize it was for ALS, and realize Jon Blais’ story, then it was worth it. After I got back up, I found Derick, and got surprisingly emotional.

It is an interesting dynamic how when we push our bodies to their limits, we find various things to motivate us. I am often asked “What do you tell yourself when it gets tough?” But ya know, it varies; race to race, day to day. I went into Texas 70.3 simply wanting to do a good race for me, push myself and not worry about where I ended up; but know that I had left it all out there.  In retrospect, I achieved this; but I also thought about Pete throughout the 4+ hour journey many times, and it felt like I drew strength by realizing that no matter how hard it got, it was nothing that I couldn’t push through. When my attitude got negative (it happens to all of us, at some point), I turned it around quick. Life is precious. We are blessed. The ability to go out and compete as we do is an absolute privilege that I’ll never take for granted. As Jon so wisely said:

“Live, more than your neighbors. Unleash yourself upon the world and go places.

Go now. Giggle, Know, Laugh. And bark at the moon like the wild dog that you are.

Understand that this is not a dress rehearsal; this is it. Your Life.

Face your fears and live your dreams. Yes, every chance you get.”

Thank you for reading, and for supporting me. My message with this race? Find what motivates you. Take hold of your life and go after your dreams; go after something. You know what scares me? Failing.  But I figure I can’t succeed if I don’t risk failing. And I’m only human. Therefore, I try to embrace it; when I see that a failure is on the horizon, I try to realize that it will make me stronger in the long run. Life is a journey; make it happen, but most of all, enjoy the process and don’t take yourself too seriously.

Thank you to my sponsors for allowing me to do this amazing journey: Memorial Hermann, Zoot, Quintana Roo, PowerBar, Reynolds, The Westin Lake Las Vegas, Recovery Pump, ISM, Jack & Adams, Road ID, Giro, Nulo, Durata Training, Katalyst Multisport, SRM, Atomic High Performance, Oakley, Profile Design and Campagnolo.

The day played out as follows. An early (4:20am) wake up call and Derick and I headed downstairs to transition to set up. One of the many awesome things about this race is if you stay at the Hilton Caribe, the transition and race start are both about a 5-10 min walk from the hotel, in opposite directions. Convenience at it’s finest! Something never taken for granted by triathletes who have enough bells and whistles to stress out about. I felt good; nervous, but excited. Truth be told, I really hate race morning. The jitters get to us all; a light jog and my music helps to simmer them a bit, but all I really want is that damn gun to go off so I can get to work! The nerves dissipate pretty quickly once we take off. The race was underway right on time (thanks to amazing race organization, BN Sports LLC) and I was off in my Zoot Speedsuit for the balmy, 1.2k swim. I felt like I had a good start, finding enough speed to latch into a lead group (minus the one who got away, eventual race winner). I was proud of myself for keeping in that group; a few times, the feet started to drift off and I mentally kicked my own ass and said “Get BACK on those feet Kelly! They’re faster!” I have a bad habit of sometimes enjoying solitary swims. I have to remind myself that this is racing, and yes, the bubbles are faster than no bubbles ahead of you. I stayed in a pack of 4 women, and we exited together. The long run to T1 and onto my QR Illicito (fully equipped with my ISM Breakaway saddle and Reynolds 46/92 RZR’s), tossed on the Giro Selector, Oakleys, stocked up with my 8 PowerBar gels and onto tackle the bike course; where I knew, for me, this was most likely make or break for my day.

I have come to realize that the difference for me between being top 5 and top 3 (or in other words, finishing well or contending for the win) over the years has been my bike. Sure, having a strong run has helped; but that gap off the bike usually needs to be within 5-6 minutes of the leader(s) for me to have an honest shot at a win. While I took to the bike course in 2^nd or 3^rd and exited it in about 7^th, the gap was huge. I tried to push as hard as I could out there; and truth be told, nothing catastrophic happened on those 56 miles. I tried to bike strong, solid; take care of myself nutritionally, which I did. When I got passed, I tried my best to keep the women in my view as long as I could. I would glance down at my SRM occasionally, but for the most part, it was ‘stay on the gas, keep pushing’. My legs felt alright, but not great; it was as if I told them to kick it up a notch, but there was only so hard they could go. I tried to stay positive and realize that a lot could happen in 13 miles. So I came into T2, very happy to have that behind me, and keep my thoughts on what was ahead; a good, hot, challenging run course. I just had to hope that the gap was not too large to the leaders.

It was nice to exit and hear my husband Derick yell out ‘Great bike Kel!’ It is always so encouraging to see and hear him…while I have a laser focus when racing, I always watch out for Derick in the corner of my eye, and it gives me a small boost each time I see or hear him. Inside I smile, even when outwardly I may be shaking my head saying (without words, to him “Shit, I have my work cut out for me…”). I headed out and by mile 1, I had passed one girl; which I think moved me into 6^th. The run legs felt alright, but still lacking that ‘spring’ that I had hoped would be there. I kept plugging along, hitting the steep hill near mile 2, at which point I saw the race ahead of me. Two women were heading back towards transition, with a HUGE gap on me. I heard Tom Ziebart yell out to me “About 10 minutes back, Kelly.” To be honest, my thoughts were something along the lines of, “Wow, that’s a serious bitch slap.” I knew at that point, barring a serious blow up ahead of me, today this was not my race to win; this was my race to fight like hell and get back into.

We have a choice to make right here. Everything hurt. I knew I was probably running well, but I didn’t feel like I was crushing it. I knew realistically, I may be 3^rd at best; 2^nd if those blow ups occurred. I never like to think like that; I don’t want to see my success in a race be due to someone else’s misfortune, but I am also a pretty intense competitor and I know that a lot of racing is about racing smart. In any case, I acknowledged to myself, “Kelly, screw it. You won this thing twice; if you don’t win today, then hold your head high and give if absolutely everything you have. You do not quit. That’s not an option. Let your ego go and realize that today you’re going to have to fight tooth and nail for this finish, whatever the place may be.” The options were a) to start to walk, blame this on cramping (which was more accurately ‘aching muscles’… fatigue! ..not a good enough excuse!) or b) suck it up and admit that today, my best was not good enough to win; but my best effort would make me a better athlete. Needless to say, I chose option B. I tried to pace the first lap and into the second lap, I really tried to push down the gas and give it all I had left. I managed to move into 4^th place at about mile 10, and it was there that I would stay through the finish; even though I tried to check my mile splits the final 2-3 miles just to motivate myself more to give it absolutely everything I had in me, maintaining hoping that I  may still reel in 3^rd place.

As I approached the finish line, I thought to myself that I should smile and high five the spectators (as the announcer was nice enough to greet me as ‘2-time champion’) but as I said earlier, I am not one to sugar coat things; and I felt like this celebrating today was reserved for Helle (the new champion, who raced flawlessly). I finished as hard as I could, saw Arturo the Race Director (who has become a friend) and soon found Derick. As he always does, he told me he was proud of my fight; and while I’m a typical athlete, I beat myself up a bit; asked a few questions, but I realize that this is one race, and in the big picture, a hard fought 4^th place is nothing to be disappointed about.

Patti Griffin sings, “…Everywhere the waters getting rough, your best intentions may not be enough… You’re out there walking on a highway, and all the signs got blown away. Sometimes you wonder if, you’re walking in the wrong direction…When it don’t come easy…” When I sat down to write, this song was the first thing that came to me. There are times in our lives when it seems it all comes to us; we have success, we see the result of hard work; it all feels so good, we feel strong; invincible; effortless; happy. There are other times that we just have to work our asses off and it may or may not end in the result we hope for. That is ok. I’ve said it numerous times, it is how we respond to successes or failures that make us who we are; and determine our trajectory going forward. Sure, it sucks to win twice and come up (very) short on the third attempt. But does one race result define me? Definitely not. I’m surrounded by great people; notably my husband who sees the success’ and failures and rides those emotions along with me; no doubt, I could not be on this journey without him. Amazing family and friends; your messages, and your thoughts, mean more than I can express. Incredible sponsors who allow me to do this pretty cool and amazingly rewarding job.  And with regards to San Juan 70.3, a city, community, and a couple of race directors (Arturo and Alejandro) that have truly made me feel at home and welcome at this event. For all of that, I am extremely grateful.

Now, it’s time to rest up, re-focus, troubleshoot a bit, and get back to work. Looks like there are a few new kids in town who are changing the game a bit! But it’s all a good thing. Everyone is getting faster, and it’s now up to me to try to keep up with the times. Onward!

The season kicked off with Panama 70.3, the Latin American Championships, which would be my second time doing this event (and its second year running). It had been 4 months since my last triathlon, which was Hawaii back in October. Sure, it was the ‘off-season’, but for me, that is an eternity to not race! I felt I had prepared as best as I could in the recent 4 weeks, as I took a pretty extended time off the regular training structure over the holidays. I was a bit nervous and unsure as to how good of a result I had in me, but I like to take the chance to race (especially ‘big’ events), and I figure this early on, it is good to get out there, throw your hat in the ring, and see where the chips fall. It is always a little scary to toe the line; but I don’t train to train, I train to compete.

Since I do these race stories often, I thought I’d take a slightly different spin on this one and base it around all of the inner thoughts that I had throughout the race. Self-talk is not only a useful tool but an essential one; the mind is very powerful. So here is what went on in my head throughout the event to propel me to a third place finish. (I apologize in advance for the profanities; this is just what went on between my ears; I view it as self-expression!)

Swim start was delayed about an hour due to the lack of punctuality by the Panamanian police. In the big scheme of it all, it is very impressive they entirely close off 56 miles of road for the race course in this country at all; so the delay didn’t throw me off too much, as I know it can happen. We all warmed up then proceeded to sit on the dock for about 45 minutes. When I thought “I am freezing cold sitting here, my body is getting tight; I am hungry and thirsty…” I countered it with “Everyone is dealing with it Kelly, suck it up. All the hotter it will be for the run.”

Swim: I jumped into the water about 2 minutes before the start and swam over to the start line. “Damn it is cold!” “Unbelievable how small this field is. This will be a fun cruise to the swim finish. I just wanna go, cold…cold…cold.” (Water was probably in the low 70s, with a strong current, in the Panama Canal). The gun sounds, and we start swimming. Immediately 2-3 women jut off far left towards the shoreline. Buoy line was fairly far to the right. We could basically stay anywhere in that vicinity with the buoys to your right. “What the f*ck are they doing?! Wait that’s Jodie Swallow, uber swimmer. You should follow her. She probably knows what she’s doing. But sometimes the top swimmers take the wrong lines too. Current is near the buoy line. Shit shit shit.” Needless to say, she and a couple others took off far left, the buoys were far right, and I was somewhere in the middle; alone. It was tough to see the swim finish because of the sun. “Damn my hands are freezing! Why are my hands cold and not my feet? Weird.” “You are such a dumbass for swimming by yourself in no man’s land. You are not on feet, or in the current. Nice work.” Finally I saw the stairs to exit and was glad that was behind me!

Bike: I came into T1 and heard that I was 90 seconds down. That sucks, especially in a 20+ minute swim. Not much to do about it now. I got on the bike and took off down the path and meandered out to the Bridge of the Americas (which was a solid climb) that then took us out towards the Pan American Highway. This is a beautiful and challenging section, as we ride a very hilly and tree covered 5-10 miles towards Veracruz before it opens up to wide, rolling highway roads. Early on, it hurt. My legs were screaming at me but I tried to shut them up. My left quad felt tight and as though it could cramp, but I hoped it was just that shock of initial intensity. Just a few things that crossed my mind in this very long 2 hrs and 43 minutes included the following. “My leg really hurts, I don’t know if I can sustain this. OK use your right leg more, Kelly. Ease off with the left leg.” (as Heather passed me)  “Damn, she is moving. That’s ok, head down, keep her in sight. Sh*t that didn’t last long.”  Soon after Margaret Shapiro passed me. “Ah that sucks…ok, keep her in sight.” That lasted a little while but at one point I thought it was her up ahead, when I realized it was just a random guy out riding, at which point, I acknowledged that she too had dropped my ass. “Head down Kelly, keep on pushing. Check your power. Eh; don’t look at your power, it sucks. Just keep pushing.” “WHY DO I SUCK SO BAD?! THIS IS GETTING OLD…I should just quit…” This went on for the rest of the ride, and I tried to gauge how much time I had lost to first place by the end; I was pretty accurate as I had estimated 12 minutes. Painful! But no getting around it, I had a lot of work to do the final 13 miles.

Run:  I dismounted the bike, took it into T2 and threw on my Zoot TT’s, visor, grabbed my PowerGel flask and was out of there. “Legs feel like lead. Not too surprising since they felt like lead the entire past 3 hrs. Maybe they’ll come around. Settle in.” Tim the Swim Guy (aka Tim Johnson) told me soon out that I had about 10-12 minutes to first place. I responded with a bit of a (sarcastic, pissed off) laugh and “Yep, just like last year!” But I just put my head down and tried to run my race. I immediately knew that this amazing 1:16 I ran last year was probably not happening…in my mind I thought a 1:20 would be solid given how I was feeling. I managed to move from 6^th to 5^th soon and there I sat for about the next 6 or 7 miles. My quads still hurt, but they felt better than early in the bike. My stride felt a bit forced. I tried to ‘look’ like I felt good, even when I felt like crap.  “My legs feel awful. Come on Kelly, suck it up. This is not supposed to be easy. Why do the bottoms of my feet hurt?! That’s a new one.” I ran by a huge crowd of locals who were cheering so loudly for me at one point! It was so awesome. I said to myself, “Come ON Kelly you can’t let them down! They know who you are! Get your ass into podium position would you?!” But the women I was seeing ahead were so few and far between. By the time I went out on the second (and final) run loop, I was in 4^th place but 3^rd was still very far up. I contemplated stopping, unsure if I could maintain this pace; I mean if I quit, then I’d have an excuse as to why I didn’t do as well as I had hoped right? It wasn’t ME, I was UNABLE to finish. “That’s bullshit Kelly, this is what you’ve got in you, today, now. You play the hand you’re dealt. I told myself “Control to the end of this stretch, then give if all you’ve got the final 3 miles; that is when everyone will be hurting.” I managed to do this, and needless to say with about 2 miles to go, I realized “Dang is that Margie up there? I think she’s third. Pick it up would you?!” And then I had to dig even deeper with the self-talk. “Come on, gritty, gritty. You’re gritty. You’re scrappy. You’ll dig and dig and claw your way to the top if you have to. Gritty! Scrappy! Go!” Yes, a bit humorous, but you do what works; and that was enough to get me to look inside myself and leave every last bit of my energy out there on the course. I made the pass with about 1 mile to go and from there on, I tried to ramp it up to as much of a sprint as I could. When I finally crossed, I was DONE. It was a hard day out there, but I was so glad that I had fought to the end and managed to claw my way into the Top 3.

When I saw Derick, I gave him a hug and I am pretty sure the first words out of my mouth were “That was so hard.” Such a cliché right? No shit, it should be hard. Of course it’s hard. But I come back to telling myself “You play the hand you’re dealt, for better or for worse.” Some days you feel great; it is hard, but only because you are pushing the envelope the whole time. These days are golden; we as athletes live for these days. You want the pain, because you know success is at the end; it’s a good day; the kind of pain we revel in. Other days, it’s hard, because it takes every ounce of physical effort and mental focus and determination to NOT QUIT. That is how today felt. I realized that on a day I felt I was struggling, 3^rd place is pretty damn good. When I had a chance to see my bike power file, I got a bit more down on myself…I tried to figure it out, ask questions, troubleshoot. I was told by 2 people that I needed to get over it, move on, and chalk it up to blowing out the pipes as a tough season opener. I needed to hear this. My loving husband told me “Kelly it is hard, and every win you ever get, you are going to have to work your ASS off for…period.” Correct. Those qualities that make us great (conscientious, intense, focused, hard on ourselves) can also tear us apart if we are not careful.

So in sum, it was an awesome weekend, and I am extremely glad I went out there and threw down what I had in me; and grateful that it was a solid result. It tells me where I am, and it clarifies where I want to go.  I have to thank my amazing support team for 2013, all of whom I am proud to represent and honored to work with: Memorial Hermann, Zoot, PowerBar, Quintana Roo, The Westin Lake Las Vegas, ISM, Reynolds, Recovery Pump, Jack & Adams, Durata Training, Giro, Road ID, Nulo, Katalyst Multisport, SRM, Oakley, Go with the Flo, & Hill Country Running.  Good things to come, via gritty and scrappy determination! Thanks for reading…

This year officially-unofficially kicked off last weekend (January 13) with the local 3M Half Marathon. Last year, this race was very good to me. I managed a gigantic PR (1:14.42) and it gave me a huge confidence boost to kick off 2012. I was running very well at the time, and I knew that time was possible, but when I did it, I was still a bit shocked. Needless to say, even though circumstances may have been different this year, there was a part of me that wanted to repeat that performance. I’d be lying not to admit that, and in my opinion, I would not be a fierce competitor if I didn’t seek to repeat that 1:14 performance. The lead up was somewhat different. Last year, I finished my season with Ironman Arizona in November, took a few weeks of rest, did some 5k’s in December, and on January 1, kicked off a solid 3-week training block to prep for Panama (and also 3M). This year, I finished in October with Kona, planned to do Ironman Arizona in November but backed out as I felt ‘overly tired’; it just didn’t feel right. Ironically, I got strep throat in November which didn’t seem to knock me down too much, but I think it was a sign that I was wiped out. December greeted me with my 5k’s but also in the thralls of a newly implemented 8-week cycling specific strength program (courtesy of Anthony Falsone at Memorial Hermann). Our 2-week holiday trip to see our families and friends was great, and I maintained my training, but it suffered a bit the latter half in Indiana when my parents got nailed with 15-inches of snow; put a small damper on my intended running in Southern Indiana. We got home on New Year’s Eve and when Tuesday Jan 1 rolled around, I realized that 3M was a week from the coming Sunday. Ouch.

One of the many things my husband (and coach) Derick has taught me is that when you are at a certain level of fitness, you can take short breaks, and that fitness will often times come back pretty quickly. Yet again, he is right. This is one reason that I love those off-season 5k races. I like to stay in touch with that speed, but without really putting much overload on my body or inducing any unnecessary fatigue. It allows me to mentally remember what it feels like to go fast. (Additionally, they are FUN; just something I really enjoy). As we put my training plan together for the first few weeks of January and leading up to Panama 70.3, I got a bit skeptical of this 3M race. It would appear I had enough time to squeeze in one tempo run, one longer run, and one speed run; then it would be time to rest a day or two for the event. By the first weekend back, I was tired. The excitement of being ‘back at it’ fully for the first time in 2+ months took a small toll and I was fatigued. Yet again, I brought up the idea to Derick that maybe I should just train instead of race the weekend of 3M. His response was “No, I think you need to race it. Kelly if you run a 1:14 or a 1:17, who cares. Get the fitness out of, put the effort in, and blow the cobwebs off. It will help you for your early season.” Yet again not the response I was seeking! The tempo run race week included 3-4 miles at a faster pace, the final 2 of which I clocked in at 5:47 and 5:56. They hurt. A lot. It made me nervous.

Truth be told, I was 50/50. I wanted to race because I believe anything is possible and I thought maybe I would surprise myself; and, I love to race; I love to toe the line. I didn’t want to race because I was afraid I may fail, scared that not only would I not run a 1:14 but what if I ran truly slow…what if I sucked? The thought of holding a 5:50 pace for 13 miles (a 1:16+ which I had decided I would be okay with) seemed a bit overwhelming given the effort it took me to run 2 miles at this pace just a few days ago. The days leading into the event, I had quite a few conversations with my conscience. What I finally had to tell myself was, “Kelly, remove your head from your ass. Stop over thinking. Let go of your expectations. This is one of the most low key events you’ll do all year long. Enjoy it, race it, and finish it. Do your best, that’s it.”

Race day came. I found myself a little excited. I warmed up and my legs felt a bit springier than they had in awhile, a good sign. I was still a little jealous of Derick (there as support, not racing), as it was very cold, very windy, and I knew it would hurt. But then I reminded myself that you always want to be on the other side; if I were not racing, I’d want to be racing. The gun sounded promptly at 6:50 and we were off. Mile 1: 5:41. Whew, not bad. (But that could have been in part due to trying to get warm!) Calm down, Kelly. Mile 2: 5:50. Better. I felt strong, controlled, relaxed. Mile 3: 5:45. Alright, maybe this won’t suck too badly. (Counter thought: Easy killer, not too fast. You still have 10 miles to go. There’s still time to blow up). I tried to relax at this point, turn my head off a bit, and just settle into my pace. I rolled through 10k in 35:45 and by calculations figured I was still in the range of 5:45’s. My left leg felt like it may cramp up, so I began trying to use my right leg more. (Oddly enough, a few days post race, my right leg was more sore; the human body never ceases to amaze me!). The miles clicked off and I tried to stay calm, relaxed, and positive. I came through Mile 11 and saw 1:03.30, which amazingly enough was still about 5:46 pace. This could be good!! Unfortunately, the course had a small change from the previous year, and mile 11-12 was brutal; it seemed this mile was all uphill. I tried so hard to attack this, as on the previous rollers (though they were minor) I had felt very strong; but I started to crumble a bit. Mile 13 came and I saw a 1:15.30 on my watch, and I knew sub-1:16 was going to be tough. But honestly at this point, I said to myself, “Whatever… you did well today…give it all you’ve got and be proud of your finish.” I crossed the line in a 1:16.19, and all in all a very happy camper. Not a PR, far from it, but on a day when I was truly battling with the fear of even having the nerve to TRY, I was damn glad that I had not backed out.

I have always tried to be conscious of not being an ‘excuse-maker’. But often times, it is not so much excuses as circumstances. I was quoted post-race as saying “I didn’t even train for this race”, which was far from the truth. (I may have said it, but what I meant was, I didn’t feel I had the time to train the way I would have liked to for this race!) I am always training in some facet. The 5k’s in December probably helped out on race day. I probably had maintained more fitness over my extended off-season than I thought I had. In the big picture, the time doesn’t matter…what did matter was that I faced the worry of ‘not running well enough’ and did what I had feared I may not be able to do, and that was run well. I was nervous to race for fear of not being perfect, and that fact scared me, because I know that we cannot think that way; and I usually do not think that way. I love to compete, I love to see what my body is capable of on any given day; for better or for worse. I also realize that we cannot have the perfect race. In some strange way, this 1:16 made me happier than the previous year’s 1:14. I felt ready for that one…this one I was unsure, and I dealt with a lot of self-imposed pressure; but was able to shake it off. In short, this one is summed up by simply saying that failure to try will always result in failure; we will carry that with us… but the potential for success will always involve risk. Ultimately, living your life and trying new things is one big risk. So get out there and risk something! And don’t forget to have fun in the process.

These specialists have a variety of markers for performance improvement which include the following.

1) Lactate threshold testing both with cycling and running, with the lactate profile based on blood draws during a cycling or treadmill test. This process determines the intensity at which your body produces more lactic acid than which you can clear it; therefore, pinpointing the precise pace (running) or power (cycling) whereby you know you can most effectively train to make performance gains.

2) Gait analysis with a biomechanist who will do a video breakdown of your running gait, determining any possible biomechanical problems and do a full gait analysis of your current running pattern. This can help determine a conditioning regimen and/or route of therapy for performance enhancement and injury prevention. If you have never had this done, you may find it very interesting what you see. In my opinion, the efficacy of someone ‘watching’ you run from behind is not anywhere close to the information you can gain from a video breakdown of your running style.

3) Body composition testing based on hydrostatic weighing, to assess fat vs. lean muscle tissue relative to total body weight.

4) Strength & Conditioning specialist who can work with you one-on-one to take you through a program to help you attain your specific goals…whether it be to gain strength, improved body composition or simply improved overall conditioning. Currently, I am on a program from the strength & conditioning specialist Anthony Falsone which is focusing on off-season STRENGTH (that which pertains to the needs of triathlon) and will transition into FUNCTIONAL STRENGTH once the racing season picks up. It is exciting for me as I have been a professional triathlete for 10+ years, and this is the first time I have had a specific, focused program for my off-season. While my legs are a bit ‘heavy’ a few weeks in, I can already see differences in core and postural strength as well as activation of many stabilizers that are not often used in the day-to-day swim/bike/run regimen.

5) Registered Dietician who will consult with you on whatever your nutrition goals and needs may be… whether it is in-competition fueling or being sure you are getting your needs calorically and nutritionally throughout the day. What I really like about Penny Wilson is that she is focused on ‘fueling for performance’ and she has a realistic and healthy approach to nutrition. Penny is highly educated and her goal is to allow you to attain peak performance through sports nutrition; she understands the concept of ‘balance’ and at the same time, enjoying what you put into your body.

In addition to the services listed above, they also have a massage therapist and all of the essentials to perform recovery and physical therapy services. Their focus is performance improvement and they combine experts in sports science, orthopedic surgery, rehabilitation, physical therapy, human performance, strength and conditioning and sports nutrition to help any and all athletes.

The swim, bike and run are easy… if you put the time in and do your given training, you will likely improve over time. However, we all need to reach out to others at times to help us fine tune and be sure we are getting the most out of our efforts. Be sure you are doing what you can to cover the bases that are often forgotten before they affect your goal races, such as nutrition and injury prevention. If you are seeking to get the most out of yourself in your given sport, you would be well served to check out what the Institute has to offer. It is a rare thing to find such a wide array of services all in one clinic. Memorial Hermann hospital has done an incredible job with this facility; stop on by and see for yourself!

I thought it came out well and even though it is similar to my previous post about Kona, figured it may be a good read.

Enjoy & thanks for stopping by…. Kelly

How Failure can Propel you to Success

Everyone wants to be successful; it’s human nature. We are taught from a young age that if we work hard enough at something, commit to a goal, we will eventually succeed. We eagerly believe in the mantra ‘Anything is Possible’ and while we  know that may not entirely be true, it gives us all hope that we will eventually do what we may have once believed to be unattainable. And all of this is great; it gives us a reason to get up in the morning, helps motivate us to work towards a goal. But one thing I have learned through having been a professional athlete for 12 years is, the times I have often seen the greatest success’, they have been on the heels of some of the biggest disappointments.

I recently competed in the Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii (an event that entails a 2.4 mile ocean swim, 112 mile bike and 26 mile run). I don’t often talk about ‘myself’ in articles; however this race seemed particularly relevant to this topic. It was my third time to race Kona as a professional, my sixth Ironman race, and I was coming off of my best season to date. I was one of the ‘off radar’ picks to fare well on race day. I say ‘off-radar’ because the other top picks had won multiple Ironman’s or had finished among the top 5 in Kona the previous year. The previous year, I was 13^th. The year before that, I was 15^th. But I knew, coming off of a stellar season, this one would be different. I could feel it. All of the signs were in place. I was excited, relaxed, primed, confident… I felt like I was ready for a breakthrough at this distance. I wanted to be Top 5, on a great day Top 3, and I figured I would be at least Top 10… knowing of course that there was still work to be done, and nothing would come easy. When all was said and done, I was 15^th. And while that does not sound ‘too bad’, the worst part was my bike…the one area I have focused on diligently all season long (and season upon season prior)…and it was the slowest bike split I have yet posted in Kona, by far. Granted conditions were tough, but it was awful; embarrassingly slow. I exited the bike and headed out onto the run in nearly last position; the positive part was I ran my way into 15^th, posting the 4^th fastest run, but I knew that no matter how fast I ran, the end result would be a huge disappointment for me, topping off a great year. Why? What happened out there? What went wrong?

We don’t entirely know. In hindsight, I may have been a bit tired. Maybe. I hate to make excuses;  I would rather own a performance, good or bad, and learn something from it. And that is where this performance was actually beneficial. I asked myself the hard questions the ensuing few weeks, and learned so much.

1) This performance reinforced in me that I truly won’t quit even when the end result may be far, far off of what I had hoped for; when I know it will sting. Quitting will sit far worse in my conscience than knowing I gave it all and ‘all’ wasn’t quite enough. It forced me to swallow my pride, and for that, I am proud.

2) It forced me to ask myself what I can do to become a better athlete in 2013. Change is essential for growth. I am implementing off-season strength and conditioning, something I have not yet (consistently) done in my 12 year career. The program is in place, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.

3) It made me ask myself “Why am I racing Kona; why am I here?” It’s so easy to go through our lives and one day we wake up and realize we are on a path without direction, without a specific reason.  I am re-assessing my goals in the sport, and will likely take a different trajectory in 2013. Just like a ‘regular’ 40-hour a week job, being a professional athlete is far too demanding to not be doing it out of passion. I am going to get back to the kind of racing I am passionate about.

4) It taught me how to be resilient. Resilience is defined as “the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation, caused especially by compressive stress”. After I got over feeling sorry for myself for a few days, I realized, this one result does not define me. I can let it, or I can rise above it. It taught me how to bounce back from failure; that even though I felt like I failed, I am not a failure…it forced me to remember all the success’ from the year, and to appreciate the good with the bad.

Winning is great; success is awesome. But success does not force you to ask yourself the hard questions. I’ve learned far, far more from the failures I’ve had in sport than I ever have from the successes. Some of my biggest wins have occurred immediately following a disappointing race. So the next time you find yourself consumed with frustration, as we all will be sooner or later, make something out if it; it’s entirely up to you; and to me, that’s exciting.

1) Disappointment. Yep, I am going to be honest here and not sugar coat anything. I don’t intend to sound negative, just honest and pragmatic about the situation. I think it’s safe to say that going into Kona, I had put together the best season of my 11 years as a professional. While I had many other important races, the majority of my training was designed to be successful in Kona. I felt prepared. I had a big goal, but I believed it to be a realistic one. I felt like I’d left no stone unturned. Race morning and even race week, I found myself more relaxed (which is almost always a good sign for me) and genuinely excited than I had ever been before an Ironman. I was bursting at the seams. It had been almost a full year since my last Ironman, and I knew my fitness was better than a year ago. I figured the potential was huge! Sure I knew it’d be a tough day, but I like tough; it becomes mental then, and I love the mental battle. One of my favorite phrases is a ‘good swift kick in the ass’ and that is precisely what I got out there. Why? I don’t know. What went wrong? We’re not entirely sure. The problem was solely the bike, which tends to be a nasty little bugger of a challenge that I cannot seem to shake. I know I’ve had more good than bad bike legs this year, however, Kona unfortunately was a season lowlight on the bike. This all goes to show us what we know; no matter how well prepared you feel, how relaxed you are, how many ‘good signs’ you seem to have… on race day, it doesn’t matter. What matters is putting it together, and some days, it just doesn’t come together; no matter how badly we want it to. I knew as I hit the final 30 miles that it would be bad. I didn’t cry, though I wanted to. I was angry with myself, but I tried not to be. Those final 30 miles, I am fairly sure I was ahead of no more than a handful of pro women. It hurt; it hurt my ego, and it didn’t seem fair. But one thing I told myself was “Swallow your damn pride Kelly and keep pedaling. Some days just suck; get over it.” Once I finally limped my feeble self into town, the next self talk was “Run a sub-3 hr marathon and make something good of this!”

The positive? Out of disappointment, we become stronger; we learn more about ourselves. We learn how deeply we can dig when all is stacked against us. We ask the hard questions about what went wrong; we reflect on what we can do better. I’ve learned far, far more from the disappointing races than I ever have the good ones. Without disappointment, we have no opportunity for growth. 

2) Gratitude. Numerous times out there, I thought of all I had to be thankful for. 9 hrs and 45 minutes is a lot of time to think. I thought of the many notes and emails I had received from friends and family (and friends I don’t know) wishing me good luck and telling me that they were already proud of me. I thought of all those generous people who had donated to my Can Do MS fund; we raised over $11,000; my performance today would not change that fact; already, much good had been done. I thought of my Aunt Sandy, who has MS, and tells me that she is that little angel on my shoulder when things get tough. I thought of the numerous great races I had had this season. I thought of my parents who came out to support, as they have every year in Hawaii (and most races!)… and how awesome of a chance it is to spend a week with them in Hawaii. I thought of my husband who has been on this journey with me every step of the way; without Derick, I’d not have the privilege of even being here. I thought of how fortunate I am to even be ABLE to do this great sport. Perspective, even in the heat of battle, is a good thing. Even when emotions run high and that dreaded feeling of ‘failing’ is on the horizon, I always try to gain some realistic perspective on the situation. Much to be thankful for.

3) Resilience. And here is the big one. This came to me within hours upon finishing. Thanks to good old Merriam-Webster, resilience = the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation, caused especially by compressive stress. My interpretation of this is the ability to bounce back from failure; the ability to not be defined by a beat down; the ability to lift your chin up just a bit and say, ‘not today…you may try to break me, but try as you may, I’m not breaking.’ This concept was what got me through the day. I came into this expecting to do well; planning to do well, prepared to do well. Coming off the bike after 5 hrs and 40 minutes, it was embarrassing. I know everyone had bad days, but I have been working to prove to myself that I AM a good cyclist; that I CAN bike well for 112 miles. And here I was, slapped in the face with precisely what has sat uneasy with me for two years now (ever since my first time in Kona)…another bad bike split. And as much as I wanted to curl up in a corner and feel sorry for myself as I dismounted into T2, I said to myself “Come on Kelly. It’s done, move on. Run a sub-3 hr marathon and make something good out of this day. It’s not over. You do NOT quit just because it’s not going great.” I could not bear the thought of quitting out of embarrassment or the ‘fear’ of a bad result. So off I went. I shot out of there like a bat out of hell and ran for broke. I gave the run all I had in me right from the start; I didn’t even try to pace myself; I didn’t have the time to do so. And, I clawed my way back into the Top 15. Not the Top 5, like I had envisioned; not even the Top 10, which I imagined would be an “ok” day. But the one thing I’ve learned as an athlete is we give it what we’ve got, at the moment, on the day; and that, I had done.

Where a race like this gets really difficult is those few days afterwards. Within 24 hours, you’re so tired and glad that it is over, you don’t really feel much emotion; eh, bad race, so it goes. I always find however that it’s the next 1-2 weeks when the emotional roller coaster begins. You beat yourself up over it, you ask what went wrong; you ask how could that have happened when you worked so hard. You feel angry one minute, yet indifferent the next. This is when the resilience becomes important. I realized that I’ve had a great (and long) season… a 1:14 half marathon back in January, three 70.3 wins, two 70.3 seconds including the World Championships; and some great success at the Olympic distances as well. I feel as if it would be very selfish of me to walk away from the season disappointed, having had so many successful races; you cannot let one race define you, be it good or bad. I’ll digest it and learn from it. I’ll take some much needed down time, rest, re-focus and look forward. I will be resilient.

Given some time to reflect on the 70.3 World Champs, I can’t help but feel like I’m a bit like a turtle. Maybe this is because I spent a bit of time at the Westin Lake Las Vegas’ outside patio, looking out over the water, admiring the giant turtle fountains spitting out water; cute little guys. While I’ve managed to put together a string of good results the past few seasons, the progression to this point in my career has been extremely steady and consistent. At times frustratingly slow and steady, but, in retrospect, I’d prefer to have had it no other way. It has allowed me to be that much more appreciative to see it all come together as it has.

Sunday’s race was an interesting one. Given the week leading up, I tried not to change any of my goals or expectations; but truth be told, that is really tough when your ‘master plan’ gets the least bit rattled. It just challenges your mental capacity and attitude that much more. I had been out to the Westin Lake Las Vegas in June for a solo mini training camp/bike focus, and I loved the venue. Calm lake swim, hilly and challenging bike course with wide sweeping turns, and a hard hill run; and hot temperatures. There were few things that, if I could hand-pick a course, I would opt to do differently. To top it off, I had the support of my husband Derick, my parents, and my Aunt Sandy and Uncle Del all in attendance. Some of you may know that I’m raising money for Multiple Sclerosis, as it is something very close to me. My Aunt has had MS for 40 years now, and to have her there to watch my race made it all the more special. I just hoped I could put on a good show!

We kicked off right at 6:30, a few minutes behind the pro men. I felt strong from the gun, and managed to separate myself from the mass of women within a few minutes. I could see one woman up ahead and I guessed it to be Jodie Swallow. I could feel a couple people tapping my feet throughout but thankfully they were all nice! It forced me to keep my foot on the gas; when I felt them tap, I’d try to pick it up a bit. It ended up being Leanda Cave and Meredith Kessler; who, like me, aren’t into dogfight swims (to me it’s just wasted energy). I exited about 30-45 seconds behind Jodie with Leanda and Meredith right along with me.We were onto our bikes after a nice long climb out of T1 and Leanda was right ahead of me. I figured that since last weekend at HyVee we had ridden together most the way, well, we would do that again. Ha! Not if she had anything to do with it! She soon drifted off ahead as we entered Lake Mead Rec Area, and the carrot was gone. I stuck to my plan, tried to stay strong and steady; work the climbs but also get small and fast for the huge descents. I was feeling fairly good, but I was also getting passed here and there. I just tried to stay positive, even though at the turnaround (~mile 24), I could see that the top women had put in a good gap. I thought back to the many long rides I had done out here (back to back 100 mile days) in June and reminded myself that this was only 30 more miles; compared to my training, compared to all the intervals, this was nothing. Foot on the gas, eyes down the road.

I entered T2 with far more of a gap than I would have preferred (about 7-8 minutes) so I knew I had serious work cut out for me on the run. I bombed out of transition while balancing changing my hair (low ponytail to high, my usual, so my visor fits better) and carrying my flask of 4 PowerGels, and it was time to get after it. It was a 3 loop run that is basically either downhill or uphill. I managed to move through the field the first loop, probably moving from 7^th into 4^th or so. I was feeling incredibly strong out there. Well into the second loop, about mile 8, I managed to pass two women which moved me into 2^nd place. I was still feeling great, but at about mile 10 as I started the final long climb, my body started to really feel the effort. I knew my deficit to Leanda was decreasing (I was literally hearing ‘6 min down! 4:30 down! 3:45 down!) but I also knew that I was running as fast as my legs would let me. By the time I reached mile 12, I was told “1:45 down!” I knew that unless Leanda blew up (and she was running downhill, mind you… an unlikely scenario) that I would have to settle for 2^nd place. Nonetheless, when I made the final turn downhill for the finish, I gave it all I had in me. I managed to cut the difference to 1 min 19 seconds, and while I wanted nothing more than to be the 70.3 World Champ, I was pretty satisfied to have run myself into 2^nd place.

 

When I came here to train in June, I ran the run course a few times to know what to expect. I am not a huge fan of ‘visualization’, but I would picture myself out there, racing, and I would envision myself with a victory here, on race day, at this venue. It didn’t feel forced; it felt natural; it was something I believed I would do. It’s tough to actually believe and picture yourself as a World Champion. Many of us can ‘say’ we believe we can do it, but to truly buy into it with every ounce of yourself is something totally different; you can’t force that. I truly believed that on this course, in this venue, at this distance, I was 100% capable of winning the World Championships. It didn’t happen on the day, but for some reason, I haven’t walked away disappointed. Every race is its own beast. I dealt with some things going into this one that I’d not expected. While I don’t know if the week leading up to it affected my race, what I do know is that I executed that race, start to finish, to the best of my abilities. I felt good, I had no major mishaps, and I never ever gave up on myself; even when I knew I had 8 minutes to make up. I can honestly say, I don’t know if I had an extra 1 min 19 seconds in my race that day; there is nothing I think I could have done better. When you walk away like that, with no regrets, it’s tough to be anything but satisfied.

It has almost been a dream season for me (…it isn’t over yet!). I set out with big goals and with competitive races on my schedule, dating all the way back to February with Panama 70.3. Some people look at my schedule and think it’s ‘too much’, but I plan what I know I can handle and after 10 years of racing as a professional, I know myself pretty well. I like to race good competition as much as I can, but I also try to respect my body and give it the R&R that I know it needs. To me, this ‘Triple Crown’ thing really isn’t that big of a deal… I hadn’t raced in 8 weeks when HyVee approached, so I was fully ready to get back at it! I think that we can gain so much fitness from racing, given that we recover and rest afterwards. So that’s what I am now doing… trying to give my body the rest it needs so that I can be ready for the big one, Kona, in just 4+ weeks. It’s all the easier to get that ‘rest’ when you have blips like a slightly bum heel or a cold that hits after a race (both of which I’ve had)! In any case, while I have raced a lot of shorter races this season, I am very excited at what is around the corner. Ironman still holds a lot of unknowns for me personally. I’ve never really performed like I think I am capable of at this distance. So it’ll be fun to challenge myself on the most tried and true proving ground there is in our sport. But for now, I will enjoy the feeling of the 2^nd place at 70.3 World Champs to cap off what has been a great year thus far.

I have to give a huge thank you to those who have been instrumental in my success’ this season: Derick, my husband and coach; he supports me when I need it but also knows how to get me to do things I don’t think are possible. My parents who are probably shocked their 34-year old daughter is ‘still an athlete’, just as she was 20 years ago, but are never anything but supportive. My Aunt and Uncle for coming out to Vegas to cheer me on.

And my sponsors: Memorial Hermann, Zoot, Quintana Roo, PowerBar, Reynolds, Durata Training, Recovery Pump, Road ID, ISM, Vision, Katalyst Multisport, Jack & Adams, Giro, BMW of Austin, SRM, Oakley, Go with the Flo Acupuncture, Hill Country Running, Advanced Rehab and my newest sponsor, The Westin Lake Las Vegas.

I’ve had a few people call me ‘inspiring’. I don’t know if we ever really consider ourselves worthy of such a compliment; inspiring is when people overcome the impossible, they have every odd stacked against them and they somehow succeed; I don’t feel like I have had to leap too many hurdles in my life. But when I step back and take a look at my own career and progression through the sport, in my opinion I have just stubbornly clawed my way up the ladder. There have been times I’ve wanted to throw the towel in, thinking there’s no way that my cycling would ever make me competitive with the best. But just as often I’ve said to myself, “Why the hell not? With persistence, hard work and visible progression, there’s no reason you can’t get to that level.” Pardon the cliché nature of this statement, but if my success’ can inspire just one person to believe in themselves a bit more, or decide that there is nothing to lose by chasing a dream or a goal, then every success I achieve becomes multiple times more meaningful. With that said, aim high, my friends. There’s a lot to be gained, especially if you’re not afraid to fail.

I’ve been excited to do HyVee ever since I put it on my schedule late 2011. I train for 70.3 and Ironman, but I try to keep in touch with the shorter speed here and there. I trust in my ability to race well in both Olympic distance events and Ironman. I headed to HyVee after having been down from altitude for 1 week, and really doing mostly 70.3 and Ironman focused training in Colorado. I knew it would be fast and furious (especially on the swim) but I was anxious to throw myself into the mix and see how I measured up against some of the best in the world at this distance; fully knowing that it could go great or I could get it handed to me.

I liked the feeling of Des Moines from the moment we arrived. It felt like a mellow town, easy to navigate, low key, not too busy. I guess I’m just a small town Indiana girl at heart; but I always feel relaxed arriving in a town like this to compete. It was a treat to have Derick and my parents all there, and I felt fairly relaxed going into it, knowing this was not ‘the’ focus race for my year; moreso a good stepping stone for what was to come.

This race organization spares NOTHING. Top notch, first class everything; they go above and beyond to make you feel like they are truly glad you’re here in Des Moines for their event. Before the swim, all 30 women lined up with an ‘escort’ carrying our country’s flag. Incredible! We marched down to the pontoon for the dive start, and after fireworks went off, took our spots, and awaited the gun. Off we went for the 2-loop swim. I gave it all I had from the gun, but watch a few women drift off into the distance, trying to stay within myself. We exited after 750 meters, ran down the pontoon and dove in for the second loop. That heart rate jolt was a bit of of a shock! I felt a bit better as I settled into the second half, but found myself counting my strokes at the end. My mind was definitely drifting! I’m a very steady swimmer and I knew I was going as fast as I could. Upon exiting, I got to try out my new Zoot speedsuit, which unzips by simply tearing it apart; worked like a charm and no cord to deal with! Smooth as butter. I was about 1 minute down from the leaders; not ideal, but I didn’t let it rattle me.

I hopped onto my QR Illicito, threw on my new Giro Selector helmet (which I’m a huge fan of) and tried to bike like hell. We had a 4 loop course and it was a lot hillier than I had expected. I knew it would be technical with many turns, but it was also a lot of shifting and a LOT of punching high end power. I felt strong but definitely a bit out of my element; that intensity is so different than what my bike focus has been. I managed to hold my position more or less throughout the bike, passed a couple of girls, got passed by a few. I actually lost a few (4) spokes halfway into the bike when a competitor made a pass so close to my right that something on her bike (perhaps the skewer) ran up against my front wheel. I heard the noises, and when I looked down I could see something was off with the spokes. My Reynolds 46 front wheel seemed to still ride fairly true, but upon standing I could see it wobbling. For one thing, it pissed me off, which is never a bad thing…I tend to do well in this state. J But it also made me nervous with the technical course that the wheel could be a bit unstable. I was so thankful to finally finish up the bike knowing I had finished it in one piece. It was truly impressive that my Reynolds 46 wheel held up and still carried on safely with 4 broken spokes!

When I made the final turn to dismount, the line jumped up on me, a bad mistake I had made (completely my own fault) in that I didn’t realize the dismount line was THAT quick after the final turn. They had firmly emphasized being completely OFF your bike by that line with the huge primes. The good thing was I had a stellar dismount! The bad thing was I landed so hard on my left heel that after throwing on my Zoot Ultra Race shoes, running out of T2 I had an indescribable pain in my foot and up my entire lower leg. I literally hobbled, then stopped and shook my foot out. I decided if I could continue to run ‘normally’, I would carry on. If not then I would have to quit, knowing what races I had to come. These moments can be so tough as an athlete; do you pull out to be ‘safe’ or do you grit your teeth and suck it up? I began to run and it seemed the pain went away, so while I knew something was not entirely right in there, I decided ‘game on’ and began to put together the best 10k I had in me. I managed to go from 14^th to 6^th over the course of the 4 loop, 10 km course. Quite a good result given where I had started. The bad part was I could barely walk after I finished. I definitely wanted to be in the Top 5, but I my concern over my foot overshadowed that and I was pleased with the result. I enjoyed the evening with my family but a fun dinner out became pizza and beer in the room, along with icing and elevating my foot.

It made for an incredibly stressful next few days. Derick got me crutches at Walmart that I used the next day to get home, simply because any weight on my left foot was horribly painful. Nothing like leaving a race on crutches! I had an MRI on Tuesday which showed thankfully no damage to the bone or the plantar fascia, only inflammation and fluid in the heel. At this point, I had to make the decision about Vegas. I told myself it there was no real damage to my foot, I would still race. I pushed my departure back to Friday, as I needed all the time I could get in Austin getting acupuncture, massage, and seeing another doctor for a second opinion. Thursday before Vegas, I was still nervous and stressed out about even heading to the race. I was assured (as much as a doc can ‘assure’ anything) that he really felt like with ice, anti-inflammatories, and rest until Sunday, no further damage would be done. SO…I decided to head to Vegas despite a bit of skepticism, and hope that it came around by Sunday.

It was not the week I had anticipated going into what was one of my biggest focus’ of the year, but having been in this sport for so long, I’ve come to realize this is part of it. I could have been worse off, and I had to mentally realize that the lack of running all week had not hurt me in anyway; if anything, the forced rest had probably been good. I had a few doubts but as the weekend approached, I tried to push them out of my mind, knowing I had the fitness and I simply had to try to ignore any potential foot pain on Sunday. Yet again, a lesson in ‘shit happens, it’s how you deal with it’! If you’ve not had things like this happen, you haven’t been in the sport long enough, because they will. I knew it was up to me how I chose to deal with this; take myself out of the race from the start, or forget about it and go in with a focus as if it had never happened. I tried my best to do the latter.

I cannot thank enough the ‘army’ who helped me out during this tough week. My husband Derick (and of course my mom!) who were just there for me in the ups and downs; Kim Mullen, a chiropractor and friend who initially assessed me; Kendal Jacobson my massage therapist; Jack Murray of Jack & Adams reached out to get me in touch with a podiatrist; AJ Zelinski of Advanced Rehab; Karen Smith who paid me a home visit to do acupuncture; Aaron Brougher and Reynolds who came through with a new front wheel; James Balentine at Jack & Adams to get the wheel glued up. The community we have found in Austin is truly unparalleled. Additionally thanks to my sponsors for their constant support. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself, put on my game face and get after it; despite any doubts I may have had, I was stoked at the opportunity to toe the line in Vegas and give it my all.