JuliaRossi

WHATEVER! I DO WHAT I WANT!

2012-01-08T14:13:00.009-07:00

As Abraham Maslow suggests in his hierarchy of needs, we are all born with an active will towards health, an impulse towards growth, and an innate desire for self-actualization. Once fundamental physiological needs (water, food, sex) and safety needs (security, resources) are met, we can move up the pyramid towards the higher-level needs of health, growth, and ultimately self-actualization.

When I think about the decisions I have made in my life that have had the greatest impact, they all stem from the pursuit of three things – happiness, freedom, and excellence – which all similarly align with Maslow’s classification of higher-level needs.

Happiness:

To me, health is happiness. This encompasses both physical health (lack of injury/illness and the ability to perform daily living activities) and mental health (feeling of acceptance and maintaining a positive attitude). Furthermore, health can be extended into the athletic realms of performance, though not necessary.

Freedom:

For most average Americans, time equates to freedom and freedom enables growth. Time seems to be the most constraining and yet the most wasted aspect of our lives.

Excellence:

Excellence, or self-actualization, is the realization of your individual capacity. This can be a capacity for athletic performance, relationships, intelligence, etc.

I have been questioned several times about my recent move to San Diego. Moving, I’ve been told, is on a similar life-scale as experiencing a loved-one’s death and I’ve made two significant geographical moves in the last 5 months. Instead of screaming to friends and family, “WHATEVER … I DO WHAT I WANT,” I have reevaluated my decision to move in light of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs:

Happiness:

I live 15 minutes from the ocean and pay $700 less per month in rent. This is a huge gain in positive attitude/mental health.

Freedom:

Driving upwards of 8 hours each week to find less-congested and safe areas to ride my bike was becoming an issue. If you are seriously training for an ironman, it has always been my belief that you need to be able to walk out the door to ride and have a pool/gym within 10 minutes of your house. Time management = personal freedom.

Excellence:

I have two main life goals: 1) fully reach athletic potential; 2) fully reach potential to help others. In terms of number 1, the caliber of athlete in San Diego is far different from the caliber of athlete in Los Angeles or even Boulder. As such, opportunities for athletes here have already exceeded my expectations. In terms of number 2, I have decided to pursue a Master’s degree in human nutrition at SDSU. I visited the campus only 3 days after dropping out of chiropractic school with the intention of interviewing the Exercise Physiology department. I ended up spending most of my time in the nutrition building after hearing about the extensive research being done on nutrition to aid in recovery from chemotherapy sessions. Those of you who know me or my family know that this decision is backed by personal sentiment and one of my best outlets to help others.

Like the philosopher Mick Jagger once said, "You can't always get what you want // But if you try sometimes, you might find // You get what you need!"
In the case of my move to San Diego, I got what I want and what I need! :)

I GET KNOCKED DOWN!

2011-12-20T21:53:00.001-07:00

My coach said I needed to freshen because a planned recovery is far better than a forced recovery. I said I need more workouts because I am invincible. RAR!

Then I got sick with a gnarly strain of Nyquil-resistant H1N1 = 3 days of forced recovery.

After 3 days of not moving from the fetal position on the couch, I was cured! As Lil' Jon would say so eloquently, "YEEEEEEEAAAAAH!"

I started running again, jamming to the latest trend in California music called Dubstep. The entire genre sounds like robots vomiting on Lady Gaga while she tries to sing. It is fantastic.

The next day, I drove to San Diego to sign a lease on a house. As I was dialing my homies in a fury of excitement, I miscalculated the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the other and fell flat on my face in front of my new landlord (who, without a doubt, now thinks I am a raging alcoholic).

Funnier than picture ...

I heard a loud pop and decided it best to go to an emergency room. In the time it took to pull into the drive and park, 4 ambulances came flashing by. 3 hours and many many artsy pictures of surfboards hanging on the wall later, the doctor saw me.

My ankle looked like a cantaloupe, but thankfully nothing was broken. Splint and crutches = 4 more days of forced recovery on the couch.

Except this round, I made a new couch friend named Ruby Doo!

Moral(s) of the story: 1) listen to your body; 2) listen to your coach; 3) don't send emails proclaiming your invincibility.

IMSG: "It's just a ride, it's just a ride. No need to run, no need to hide."

2011-11-30T23:34:00.007-07:00

Before riding the course, I had done plenty of research and listened/read many athletes’ accounts of the Ironman St. George bike course. There were two prevailing themes threading throughout these descriptions: 1) expect slower-than-usual times mainly due to the 600-pound Utah space Martian hitching a ride on your back for the entire 112 miles and 2) expect slower-than-usual times because you are essentially climbing Mt. Everest on your bike (twice) without oxygen or snow tires. In conclusion, expect slower-than-usual times. This reminded me a lot of the chatter before Kona where I was told either the lava monsters would melt my tires into the pavement or I would get blown into the ocean on the way to Hawi. Don’t listen to everything you hear.

I skipped the 22 miles leading out of Sand Hollow Reservoir and began my recon on the double loop portion of the course:

The course is definitely slower than flat courses such as Florida and Arizona (duh :). The terrain is variable: longer climbs, steep rollers, two shorter intense climbs, and a significant descent. Because of the variability of the course, much debate has surfaced over the type of bike to use – a road bike with clip-on TT bars or a standard TT tri bike. I rode a TT bike with a compact crank/12-25 cassette and found no difficulties in climbing. I ran out of gears on the descent back into St. George, but would rather use that time to zero and fuel than push with an 11-something cassette. My position on the TT bike is “fairly” aggressive – i.e. if my handlebars were any lower, my nose would scrape the front wheel. I was able to stay aero for most of the rollers and only stood a few times during the steep climbs. Personally, I would prefer having the advantage of a TT bike on the rollers/descents than worry about those two short climbs that require technical gearing.

This course reminded me of a less-technical Coeur d’ Alene mixed with a little Cali 70.3 spunk. It would be easy to blow up on the first loop – especially in the section leading to Gunlock Reservoir. Here, the frustrated athlete will see mph slower than goal pace and big ring the rollers. However, there are plenty of opportunities to be stupid on the course and the smart athlete will definitely have an advantage on race day.

The scenery is absolutely breathtaking. In 45 minutes, I didn’t see another cyclist, car, or life form. It was a profound experience … until I began thinking of the ease at which a serial killer could jump out from behind a tree, knock me off my bike, and hide my body in the hills. I blame that on the 9-hour drive the previous day.

I wish I had more insightful thoughts about the course or a physiology equation that will guarantee a Kona slot on race day. Like every single IM/half IM-distance triathlon in the world, St. George will favor a strong cyclist and an even stronger runner. As my good friend in Colorado would say … just “STFUAR.”

"You will never be able to escape your heart. So it's better to listen to what it has to say."

2011-10-10T13:44:00.001-06:00

The title is from one of my favorite novels The Alchemist, which details the journey of a young shepherd boy in search of his personal legend, or life accomplishment. I've sought guidance in this novel often during the stage of my life I am now referring to as 'my tumultuous twenties.'

To say I've struggled to find my personal legend would be the understatement of the century. From registered dietitian to lawyer to physician's assistant and now chiropractor, I've had several opportunities to realize what I don't want to pursue in life. The good news: with each path I embark on, it takes less and less time to discover I am traveling down the wrong path.

It seems as though some people have a clearly defined journey in life. In elementary school, a few of my oldest girlfriends stayed inside playing house rather than joining me in the ferocious dodgeball fight being waged against the boys on the playground. These ladies are now proud mommas whose faces light up at the mention of 'Baby Gap' or 'Pottery Barn.' A close friend is beginning his medical residency at Johns Hopkins. Both his parents are doctors and I swear he was born with a stethoscope around his neck.

In hindsight, I am beginning to believe we all have a clear path in life. The difference, it seems, is a person's malleability to external influences. Money, expectations, and society can easily dictate a person's life decisions, ultimately influencing less-than-ideal pursuits. Those who appear to be traveling down a clearly defined path might have a better grasp on their internal compass -- or the ability to listen to their heart.

As the quotation in the title of this post suggests, I have come to realize that listening to your heart is one of the most important tools in life, which is precisely why I withdrew from chiropractor school after only 4 weeks of class. I don't feel as though this is the proper forum to divulge into the series of events that led to my decision, but I will share one significant event as it pertains to the greater lesson I hope to share:
After riding my bike for a few hours, I sat down to study for an upcoming anatomy test (by upcoming I mean occurring the next day). As I scoured my notes, I realized I had only taken 2 sentences of notes over the course of a three hour lecture that week. Obviously I was doing something of greater importance during those few hours like finding a cure for some rare disease. When I checked the search history on my laptop I bring to class to "take notes," I had googled only two terms: 'spring triathlon training camps' and 'ironman.' The next day I withdrew from school.

As much as I try to deny the impact triathlon has had on my life, obvious signs keep directing me back to the sport. For two years, I sought participation in the ironman with a fervor and conviction that involved a tremendous amount of sacrifice. To me, the fact that I wasn't willing to sacrifice 3 hours of my time to listen to a lecture developing the basis for my future career was a telltale sign I wasn't following my heart.

With that said, following your heart isn't easy. The uncertainty brought about by my decision has brought up a lot of unanswered questions. However, like the shepherd in The Alchemist, we sometimes fail to realize the journey in finding your personal legend is the important part in writing life's story.

If You Ain't First, You're Last?

2011-10-01T09:30:00.020-06:00

I won't go into much detail as to why I haven't updated this blog in almost two years. 2010 was a very disheartening year dispersed with injury, drama, and boxes of Poptarts. After IMFL in November, I was done with triathlon. I did not want to participate and I did not feel it was fair to my athletes to continue coaching. My spirit was crushed.

From November 2010 through February 2011, I didn't do a single minute of physical activity. I made very poor choices and developed horrible lifestyle habits. I was dissatisfied with my life, but comfortable living in discontentment. It's one of those feelings that doesn't make sense until you've experienced it.

I woke up one morning in early February severely unhappy and I knew I needed a catalyst for change in my life. The catalyst, I decided, was my old pal triathlon. That same night, I began driving west with a single suitcase and my bike. I'll say I was in search of warmer climate so I don't come off sounding like an impulsive lunatic.

A series of events during that trip got my life on track again. I spent a lot of time with my grandpa in Arizona, who shared a journal he's kept over the years. The single sentence on the first page reads: "make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you." I tear up every time I think of our time together. I ventured out to Palm Springs to complete a century ride for what was my second bike ride since November. It hurt so good I signed up for IMKY the next day and enlisted in the help of a brilliant coach. I spent some time in Napa with my cousin who works with Ironman. His crazy triathlon tendencies made me excited for the sport again.

Spending 12 hours alone in the car will do wonders if you seek clarity in life. I resolved issues regarding my career (I didn't want to see people die in hospital beds anymore), relationships (friends you meet at bars are not friends) and triathlon (is really actually quite fun). Upon my return, I muscled out a few more months of work, quit my job, and set my sights on becoming a better triathlete and moving to California for chiropractor school in August. I spent my remaining months in Colorado training and spending time with family.

This past season went well despite seeing finishing times closer to the cut-off than usual. Although deep down I wanted to qualify for Kona again at BSLT 70.3, part of me knew the challenges involved especially given my 'off-season retirement' and a necessity for run speed in a 70.3 race. However, we need to take action to get anywhere. More specifically, we need to take consistent action and enjoy the journey to get anywhere. I'd venture to guess that if you've enjoyed the process in achieving a goal (i.e. a quest for a Kona slot), you've won regardless of the outcome. I would mark 2011 in the win column for me -- I've never had more fun in sharing adventures with my training partners, meeting new friends on the race course, and moving to gorgeous California to run on beach trails and ride my bike in the hills (see pics below).

Where does that leave 2012?
I've signed up for St. George with the intent to do my best on race day. I am not throwing around the 'K' word as I have done so freely in the past. Working 20 hours each week on top of 32 credit hours of doctorate school has left little time to devote to training (or sleeping). However, consistency and enjoyment should be part of any plan of action -- hopefully I can do both next year! I am certain these years of base will pay off later in life when I have more time to devote to a serious triathlon career.

Race Report: California 70.3

2010-04-01T20:04:00.001-06:00

Can you find the similarities?

There is not much to say about this race besides...see you in Kona Chrissie!!!

Race Report: Turkey Day 5k

2009-11-26T13:41:00.011-07:00

The tension race morning was almost unbearable. There was a sea of "marathon finisher" shirts and athletes sporting their sponsorship uniforms. Naturally, I was wearing something with the Ironman logo, but it didn't have finisher written anywhere on it. Mistake #1: how was anyone ever going to know that I finished an Ironman? They probably just thought I was a spectator that purchased a hat online. Or stole it from a real triathlete. Maybe I should have worn my medal?

As each "marathon finisher" shirt passed me, doubt filled my mind. I was unsure as to what my place was among all these marathoners and sponsored athletes. I have never finished a marathon without biking and swimming first, and I certainly wasn't a sponsored athlete - that usually means you are good right? Walking back to my car and driving off before the race started crossed my mind several times.

This race was scheduled in my training plan so I knew I had to put my head down and just muscle it out - even if I finished last. I seeded myself in the middle of the pack, near a kid who was maybe pushing the "being-able-to-cross-the-street-without-holding-mommy's-hand" age. If anyone could keep the pace, I knew it was him. Mistake #2: little red headed kids can go a lot faster than you think. In my feeble attempts to keep up with him, my max speed reached 5:40 minutes/mile. Either my heart was going to explode or my Garmin was going to malfunction. It hasn't seen those speeds since...well...ever.

The first 100 yards were complete chaos. Punches were being thrown, runners were going down left and right, and the WIND was unbearable. I thought I was going to be blown clear across the road into the incoming lane of traffic.

I settled into a good rhythm around mile 1. I flew by the first (and only) aid station without grabbing any water or gu's. I was in the zone - slowing to refuel would have only hampered my performance. As I made the turn entering the greenbelt, I could feel my body slowing. Red headed kid was already cresting the hill in the far distance and I knew I was toast. I started drafting off some older gentleman wearing an "Elvis Cinemas 10k" shirt hoping he would pull me the next 1.62 miles to the finish. After all, he was about 80 years old and only wearing a 10k finisher's shirt.

The hill right after mile 2.97 was brutal. People were dropping off the pack like flies, but Elvis was pushing it. I stuck with him until the finish line came into sight. It was go time. I sprinted the last 20 yards like I stole something and managed to pass at least 2 people (and Elvis). I finished with a respectable time (for me). I also managed to beat the turkey and man dressed as a pilgrim.

I was grateful to just finish this race. After taking time off after the Ironman, I thought I had lost that racing edge. Beating a turkey simply reaffirmed that I was still in the game!

On a more serious note: Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Training is almost here!!!!

2009-10-25T14:33:00.003-06:00

Official training starts one week from today. As much as I've loved my 30 minute elliptical "workouts" for the past 3 weeks, I am itching to get back on a set schedule. The 2010 season is going to be one of the most difficult challenges I have faced in trying to stay focused mentally, becoming a better athlete physically, and making a run at Kona again. I welcome the challenge.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Are you an athlete? Because if you are, then you know what it means to be better, to want to be the best. And if you are, then you understand it’s not enough to want to be the best. You can’t just sit around all day and bull sh*t about how much you want it. Stop just ‘thinking about it’ and ‘wondering about it’ and ‘hoping for it’ and actually go out there and get it. Dare to do what it takes to be the best. And then, whether you win, lose, or collapse on the finish line, at least you will know exactly who you are." --Nike ad for the 1996 Olympic Games

Just seems fitting...

Are YOU suffering from PIDS?

2009-10-17T12:07:00.014-06:00

I can't ride my bike with no handlebars :(

Post Ironman Depression Syndrome (PIDS): noun - a disturbance of mental functioning caused by a triathlete's return to the real world; a more neutral term than triathlete gone crazy.

Following an ironman, almost everyone experiences at least some of the symptoms of PIDS. It is very difficult to stop thinking about the events of race day. For most athletes, these symptoms are short-lived. They may last for several days or even weeks, but they gradually lift.

If you have PIDS, however, the symptoms don't decrease. They become worse and worse until you click the button on active.com, signing up for that next ironman.

The symptoms of PIDS can arise suddenly, gradually, or come and go over time. Most often, these symptoms are triggered by something that reminds you of the original event, such as the sight of a bicycle, the feeling of water on your skin, the smell of old running shoes. While everyone experiences PIDS differently, there are some common symptoms listed below.

Symptoms:
-Inability to concentrate on menial tasks such as cooking dinner/taking out the garbage simply because these efforts do not require a HR monitor, rating of perceived exertion, wattage number, etc.
-Sudden realization that you have a family, friends, and a dog. Additionally, you remember the first AND last names of the aforementioned.
-Circling the date of your upcoming race on every single calendar in the house. Also, making a countdown of this date complete with flashing lights and a buzzer.
-Flashbacks, intrusive memories, and/or feelings of intense elation when reminded of the ironman event.
-Increased ability to waste time. This includes writing random blog posts, updating twitter/facebook every hour on the hour, and watching the hundreds of shows you DVR'd during the season.

Side Effects:
-PIDS is further augmented by the sight of someone else training or the mention of the following words: swim, bike, run.
-Vomiting or serious nausea may occur at the sight of Gatorade, Gus, Power Bars, Infinit, Endurox, etc.
-During the early stages of PIDS, people may come up to you and say, "you look more relaxed/rested." They may even compliment your attitude - "wow, you aren't a grumpy bitch anymore." Do not take alarm to these statements.
-Your boss may take note of your increased productivity, resulting in a raise or "employee of the month" plaque.
-You may experience extreme feelings of hatred during week one of PIDS. This feeling may be caused by the IMAZ competitor talking about his/her upcoming race, the running fanatic who doesn't have an off-season, and/or the elderly lady on the treadmill next to you going faster than your 3.5 mph (you can't move your legs - why is she smiling? Can't she see from the ironman FINISHER shirt that you just ran 26.2 miles?!?!?)

What can you do to help?
There is light at the end of the tunnel. If you suspect that you or a loved one has PIDS, it is important to seek help right away. The sooner PIDS is confronted, the easier it is to overcome. There are many ways to support your struggling triathlete. However, it has been well-documented that signing up for another ironman as soon as PIDS is suspected will cure symptoms immediately.

Race Report Part Dos - Kona Pictures & Highlights

2009-10-15T19:06:00.021-06:00

Highlights of the trip

October 5: my coach and I arrived and settled into the house. When we got done shopping for groceries, I was already sweating buckets - and it finally hit me just how hard the race would be.

View from a bedroom - it's going to take a long time to start appreciating Colorado again

October 6 through 9: The Great Meltdown of 2009. I was at the WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP of triathlons - and I felt like I didn't belong, wasn't fit enough, etc. etc. I've never cried so much in my whole life as I did over these 4 days. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I made it to the start line because of my coach - had I been alone I would have booked the next flight home. It was not pretty.

Per coach's orders, I tried to avoid downtown Kona as much as possible. I registered, swam at the pier once, but kept to myself for the majority of the time. I felt like I still got the whole Kona experience - just in moderation.

The Underpants Run - one of the very few highlights of the days preceding the race

October 10: Go time. I was too nervous to eat much of anything and cried all the way to race site. I am not sure if these were tears of excitement, nervousness, or fear. At this point in my emotional roller coaster, I really couldn't decipher what I was feeling.

Before the race with Sydney (another Mile High Multisport coach). I look a little apprehensive...

I tried to hang with Sydney for as much as possible before the race to help calm my nerves. We got separated somewhere between the massive line for the port-o-potties and I finally opened my eyes to what was going on around me. Dave Scott was in the transition area doing an interview with NBC. The cameras were focused on Macca as he set up his bike. Chrissie Wellington was stretching. Suddenly the nerves of the past week went away and being the ultimate pro-triathlete groupie, I started thinking how amazing it would be to race on the same course as some of this sport's greatest.

Transition - no turning back now!

I made my way down to the beach at 6:15. Of course the tears started flowing during the national anthem. And again when the pros started. And once more when I was talking to one of my fellow competitors. I single handedly raised the water level of the Pacific at least 2 feet that morning.

I finally decided to put on my goggles so I would stop crying. I made my way out about 5 rows back and started treading water for what seemed like an eternity. I had some minor claustrophobic/shark bait panics, but I kept repeating the word "fun" in my mind. Enjoy every second - that was my theme for the day. The cannon went off and I didn't take a single stroke for 10 meters, as the wave from 1,800 athletes beginning at once carried me.

The swim was fairly uneventful. The 2.4 miles felt like forever and I was having a lot of trouble finding someone to draft off. I saw a stingray close to the beach and probably spent a couple seconds longer than I should have looking at it. When my hand hit the bottom of the sand, I got goosebumps. The most exhilarating feeling during a triathlon is when your hand grazes the bottom as you finish the swim - it's go time!

I will never forget going up Palani Drive during the first few minutes on the bike. I felt like Lance Armstrong going up the Alpe d' Huez - chalk messages covered the pavement and the crowd was going crazy.

Left on the Queen K - "It's the anvil against which triathletes are hammered into Ironmen- or beaten into submission."

The rest of the bike was...interesting. You go to Hawaii in search of paradise - and find yourself racing in hell. There is nothing more true. The lava fields and barren land were symbolic of the pain and suffering the Ironman causes athletes who don't respect the race. There was wind (especially 30 miles out from town), but I tried not to think about it. At some points, I was too scared to take my hands off my bars, because I thought I would blow over. The heat was horrendous. I did a good job of soaking myself with water bottles, but in doing that, I forgot to actually drink some of the water.

Biking through "hell"

Most of the 112 miles were a blur (perhaps because I was going so fast?). The turnaround at Hawi gave me an extra bolt of energy and I remember being relieved. I was almost halfway to becoming an Ironman!

T2 turned out to be a bit more eventful than desired. When I got off my bike I had some serious lower back pains - like nothing I've experienced in my life. I sat down in the changing tent and started crying (surprised yet?). I shoved down 4 Advil and sat there for what felt like an eternity. I looked at my watch and began thinking I could walk the entire marathon and still finish the race - and that is exactly what I would do if I had to. At that point, you would have had to cut off my arms and legs to keep me from crossing the finish line.

As I walked up the hill out of transition, my salt tabs and a gu fell out of my back pocket. I couldn't bend over to pick it up because my back hurt too bad, so I left them on the ground. Mourning (aka crying again) over the loss of my salt, I started running. I knew if I stopped, my back would lock up and I would be crawling 26 miles. (PS for those who witnessed my crying during this time - I am really not this big of a cry baby in real life - I promise!)

Running down Ali'i drive was easy - the excitement from the crowd and the ocean views were enough to forget the immense pain. Seeing my coach a couple of times reminded me of all the hard work that went into the season.

Ali'i Drive - not doing the IM shuffle yet

Turning on the Queen K was a complete 180 from Ali'i. Even though it was still light, I have never felt so alone, especially as I neared the Energy Lab. I was beginning to walk more and more, and the sun was setting. I saw my dreams of going sub-12 being wasted away with each second I walked. But, I was grateful to still be standing and knew I would finish eventually - which was good enough for me. Once I entered the Energy Lab, the race became a dark mind game trying to ignore the pain and getting to the finish upright and still breathing. I made it to the turn-around, finally getting some salt pills and banana out of special needs.

My stomach was now hurting, and I really REALLY had to pee, but was too scared to sit down at a Port-o-Pottie for fear that I couldn't get up. I imagined myself stuck on the toilet watching my Garmin tick away until it hit 17 hours. For some strange reason, I thought how extraordinarily hilarious that would be. Making my way out of the Energy Lab, I began walking one yellow thing sticking out of the ground, and running the other. I also made a friend - a pro triathlete who blew up on the first half of the marathon. He shared his water. I shared my banana. It was a special moment.

Back on the Queen K again. I started out running 10 cones, walking 5 cones. This turned into running 5, walking 2. Running 2, walking 1. And with 3 miles left, running 1, walking 1. It was dark and lonely. At times, all I could see were the approaching glowing necklaces of other athletes and if I was lucky, a car headlight. During those last few lonely miles, I had the opportunity to think about the race and more importantly about life. My coach said I would grow up on October 10th. I think all my growing up happened during that last hour - as I realized the significance of my soon-to-be accomplishment and what this meant for me.

There was a slight hill going back to town. I got a glow stick necklace and started dancing around pretending I was at a rave (not really). I kept waiting for Palani to appear, and finally I saw the light. The boys at Bike Works were blaring music - "I'm in Miami B*tch" - and I started smiling. Turning on Palani, the tears started again as people on the side were congratulating me. Smiling and crying, I began running downhill and planned on not stopping until I crossed that line. I could hear the Mike Reilly at the finish, but had to go down some highway a bit before coming back up Ali'i. I stopped to give my coach a high five and knew my life would never be the same. My pacing for that last mile was the fastest I went all day.

I can't describe the emotion of crossing the finish line. I usually have no problems writing about my emotions, but no single word can encompass everything I experienced. There was energy like I've never felt before. There was the relief of finishing. There was physical pain but also an immense amount of joy. It was a day that I will never forget for as long as I live.

Me and coach Pete Alfino in the finisher's area

Dig Me Beach - not as impressive as you might think

The sign says it all

Afterthoughts:
I can't thank the volunteers enough for supporting the athletes. On those last lonely miles, the thought of the next aid station and human interaction kept my legs moving.
Although one might have thought I was dying of excessive tear-gland activation throughout the week, I really did have an amazing trip I will never forget.
What a journey it's been from my qualifying at the Honu 70.3! Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be a participant in the Ironman World Championships for my very first ironman. And Coach Pete, you were right, I really did deserve to be there.
I am already itching to get back into training. I got my IM tattoo today, so I could get back in the water as quickly as possible. November 1st is the official start date - the fire is lit - I want to go out with a bang in my last year as a little kiddie age grouper!

My coach's take on the week can be found here: Mile High Multisport . He was nice and left out *most* of the details of the days preceding the race.

Kona Race Report Part Uno - thank you's

2009-10-11T19:39:00.007-06:00

My first Ironman - it was hot, hard, and windy. And I enjoyed every single freaking second of the day. I would do it all again in an instant if I could walk today.

I am so grateful to have had this opportunity. I feel blessed that I was able to participate and finish an event that most triathletes spend their entire careers trying to qualify for. I just wanted to give a great big thank you to some people:

-My coach Pete Alfino: who got me through an ironman on only 4 months of base training. Talk about cramming! But, this only shows his tremendous coaching ability (and patience) to create a successful training plan for someone who can be somewhat immature and very stubborn at times. Who traveled with me to Kona and got me to the start line. Between putting up with my emotional breakdowns to fixing my bike, he is the reason I showed up at 7 AM on October 10th. I am not so sure I would have even made it to the pier had I been traveling with someone else. He is the reason I can call myself an ironman today.

-My parents: who put up with me during training, who allow me to participate in this sport by supporting me financially, and who try their best to understand the crazy world of triathlons. To my dad, who believes in me no matter what.

-My friends and long-lost cousin I have never met: who followed my race throughout the entire day, who sent me countless messages during the week, and who pull for me regardless of my performance outcomes.

-My bike gang: who got me through those long rides with some humor and made training fun. Who changed my flats, waited for me on the climbs, and pushed me to my limits each ride - the Queen K was a piece of cake thanks to you guys.

-The volunteers/race organizers: there is a reason this event is the most coveted event in the triathlon world. I was impressed with how smoothly everything ran. And to the numerous volunteers on race day...THANK YOU. The day was much more manageable with your words of encouragement (and cups of ice).

-This is going to sound selfish, but I would like to give a great big shout out to my heart - who never forgets the beginner's spirit. When I arrived in Kona on Monday and saw everyone running down Ali'i, my mind was convinced I didn't belong here. Who was I to compete with the best of the best when I qualified at a 70.3 with a second place finish (and besides, I definitely don't have six-pack abs)? I spent all week wasting energy convincing myself that I was not worthy to start in Kona. Once the cannon went off, thankfully my heart took precedence over my mind and gave me the strength/belief in myself to finish.

-To the random man at the pier: at 6:15 AM, I made my way to the shore and sat next to a man who had finished six times in Kona. He could tell I was nervous and talked to me a bit before we made our way out to swim. Before we parted ways, he gave me the best advice anyone has ever given me: "enjoy every single second of your day. It will be over before you know it." And trust me, I savored every single second.

One of the most humbling experiences I've ever had was running/walking down the Queen K in complete darkness during those last 5 miles of the race. I learned more about myself over the course of that one hour than I have through my entire life. What an amazing experience - I cannot wait to do another one!

Goosebumps...

2009-09-15T23:57:00.004-06:00

Go right on Palani Rd, left on Kuakini Hwy, right on Hualalai Road and right on Ali’i Dr to the Ford Ironman World Championship FINISH LINE!

"Oh the Places You'll Go!"

2009-08-30T19:07:00.013-06:00

There are only 40 days until the Ironman and it's time to start planning. Not planning next year's race schedule, placement of Ironman tattoo, or how to get out of mommy and daddy's house by December. More along the lines of planning and preparing for the immense letdown that will transpire following the elation of crossing the finish line on October 10th. Crawling out of bed on October 11th, I can only imagine myself thinking "I just finished 140.6 miles of swimming, biking, and running. Now what?"

For now, my identity is "training for an Ironman," but I am forced to wonder what will happen once that Ironman is complete (I can't help but think of Zoolander, as he looks at his reflection in the puddle of water and asks "who am I?" then gets splashed in the face). I will go from tri-bum to just plain old bum and my quarter-life crisis, or the "what's next?" in my life, will ensue. Unfortunately, I cannot buy a Ferrari F430 or react in a way equivalent to my mid-life crisis counterparts. Therefore, I have decided to create a 'bucket list' in an attempt to give my life guidance and get me safely over the hill...

1) Never EVER work behind a desk: I am going to go ahead and start my bucket list off with a negative, which I am sure breaks every single bucket list rule out there. However, I will NEVER be stuck in a 9 to 5 where I have to report to some DB wearing tassels on his loafers and stand around the water cooler complaining about how much I hate my life. No amount of money is worth selling my soul. For me, passion drives life's decisions, not logic, benjis, or mortgage payments.

2) Complete 100 Ironman-distance races: sound impossible? Not hardly. By the time I reach 25, I will have hopefully completed 6. I will die around age 127, so that's basically one per year until I die. I also want to finish at least one of my 100 in less than 10 hours.

3) Bike up the Alpe d' huez: and do a Rocky-like dance at the top. It will be epic.

4) Complete a couple of mad crazy ultra-endurance running races: such as the Badwater Ultra-Marathon, Western States 100, Leadville 100. I am actually starting to like running (GASP) and I wouldn't mind getting a big old belt buckle to add to my trophy room/wing of the house.

5) Race Across America: the world's most boring bike race. Yet, it still seems appealing merely for bragging rights and the possibility of a Lance sighting.

6) Climb Mount Everest: Everest has been on the list for as long as I can remember. I think it all started when Mrs. Elder's 4th grade class took a field trip to see "Everest" on IMAX. Ice, glaciers, wind, AND death on a GINORMOUS screen? The spark was lit.

7) Swim with Sharks: well, maybe not swim, but sit in that metal cage thingy and look at the sharks.

8) Become a Leadwoman: complete a trail marathon, 50 mile run, 100 mile mountain bike race, a 10K, and a 100 mile trail run in under 3 months. And finish below the cut-off times for each race.

9) Classic Races: Boston Marathon, Escape to Alcatraz Triathlon, Swim the English Channel, etc. Events that are just screaming to be done. I'd also like to be the first woman ever allowed in the TDF. If that doesn't work, I'd like to see at least one stage of the race and/or become a podium girl.

10) Visit Places/See Stuff: classic tourist destinations such as the Louvre, Fenway/Wrigley, Vatican City, The Pyramids in Egypt, New Orleans during Mardi Gras, The Kentucky Derby, and The Eiffel Tower. I also wouldn't mind going on a bike tour of Italy and meeting some relatives in the mafia. It's all about networking.

11) Become a Published Author: I want to write a book. A Pulitzer winner would be fantastic, but I would settle for a NY Times Bestseller and a movie contract.

12) Get my PhD: in anything (underwater basket-weaving is a likely candidate). Just so people have to call me doctor. I am dead serious.

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: WOW!!! WHAT A RIDE!!!"

Post-race update: A perfect game?

2009-08-10T11:18:00.021-06:00

I completed my third 70.3 yesterday and final race until Kona. This week marks the start of my Kona training block (from now on referred to as the 'holy shit' block). Time is flying by now, and my journey to becoming an Ironman seems just around the corner.

Chrissie Wellington has a smile and attitude that every athlete should mimic

Race Report:

Although I did not meet my goal time, I raced with control (read: not going balls to the wall on the bike) and dropped 17 minutes off my previous 70.3 time only two months prior. I am never fully satisfied with any of my performances, but I was pleased with Sunday's results. I figure if I can keep dropping ~20 minutes with each 70.3, I will be able to do these things in well under an hour by the time I hit thirty.

I am not sure if it is my super type-A personality or if this happens to everyone, but as I was sitting in the massive hot mess of a traffic jam exiting the race, I began to think of all the things I did wrong. I exited the race venue a happy camper, but after straying away from the high-fives and congratulations, the world was suddenly falling apart around me. I felt like I was making the transformation into the Incredible Hulk and kept getting angrier and angrier at my race.

My thoughts (I don't want to list too many incriminating things here): I should have warmed up more. I should have started at a different position in the swim and not let those fart dumpster 30-34 year old men kick my head around like a soccer ball. I should have realized that I still have no freaking idea how to feed my body during a race. I should have refrained from thinking that I was going to keel over and die at mile 8. ETC! (trust me there is more...)

The good news: with each race I do, this list grows smaller and smaller. However, I have to wonder if this list ever ceases to exist, no matter how much experience or years of racing an athlete might have.

In baseball, the perfect game is defined by both a no-hitter and shutout. A perfect game of bowling is a score of 300. During my perfect game of golf, no balls or clubs land in the sand/water. Can there ever be 'the perfect game' in triathlon? If so, how do we measure that?

Each sport seems to measure perfection in various aspects: a win, a perfectly executed plan, a time. However, there seems to be far too many eventualities in the sport of triathlon to ever achieve perfection. Even if we base results entirely on time, triathlon is not a closed sport-- meaning there will be changes from course to course (hills, wind, altitude, etc). We even stumble upon problems when comparing results on the same course from year to year (weather). I come from a swimming background, so I sometimes struggle with this aspect of triathlons. Although we traveled from pool to pool for meets, a pool is a pool. There are lane lines, starting blocks, and water. Granted, some pools are faster than others. And some competitors push you more than others. But overall, comparing times from meet to meet is a relatively standard measure of performance. How do we measure performance in triathlons?

In my mind, there are two different aspects of the triathlon that we must conquer in order to achieve perfection: physical and mental. Physical: the combination of 4 different sports (transition is a sport!) leaves a tremendous amount of room for error. Race strategy, preparation, biomechanics, nutrition, pacing, heart rate, cadence all fall under the physical aspect of triathlon and all provide infinite opportunities for error. Mental: both before and during the race including confidence in your ability, confidence that you did everything in your power to train for the race, confidence that you do not have hyperthermia and your heart will not suddenly stop beating (yes, this actually goes through my mind during the run), and not judging your performances while they are occurring.

With all of the above said, it seems impossible to achieve physical and mental perfection during a triathlon. Not to mention the endurance of the sport-- a ten hour race fosters a much greater likelihood for error than a 25 second 50 freestyle race. It is horribly ironic that, in a sport filled with type-A/idealistic personalities, perfection is not attainable. However, maybe I just stumbled upon the enchantment of this sport. We will never be fast enough, things will never go exactly as planned-- there will never be the perfect race. We will keep trying, going farther and farther with each bout (and buying more ShitThatWillKillThem in desperation), but perfection lies well beyond our reach.

Ironman, YOU ARE THE DEVIL!!!

2009-07-11T14:05:00.014-06:00

After reading the book "Iron Will" by Mike Plant, I vowed never to do another Ironman once this Kona thing is over. Seriously. I will go to Kona, put in my 10 hour-ish day, get my tattoo/award/shirt/medal, and get drunk. I was contemplating doing IMAZ in 2010, but just for kicks. My mom's entire side of the family is down in AZ, so I figured it would be a good time and a race just to finish. My life as an Olympic-distance/sometimes throw in a 70.3 would be fantastic (aka sit on the couch and drink beer as training).

Back to this damn book. Yes, it made me appreciate the sport, its history, and the magic surrounding the Ironman World Championship. I was really inspired reading how Mark Allen, ST, The Man, etc. kicked the Ironman's ass on POS bikes and with very little training knowledge. They didn't need aero helmets, fancy shoes, space-cadet looking race 'kits' (not called uniforms or cutsie little outfits like I thought). They worked their asses off each and every week getting on the damn bike and riding. Their sub-nine results prove you just have to grind through the hard stuff sometimes with an intensity unmatched in today's modern athlete.

HOWEVER, this book seriously sucks in all other aspects. After reading it, I am now scared shitless of Kona. Not a single thought crosses my mind that doesn't involve DOUBT. WTF did I get myself into now?!?!?! Before I was scared, but doubt was never an issue. Now, during my workouts, I think about how it is going to be 100 times hotter in Kona with tornado-like winds. And LAVA. MOLTEN HOT LAVA. I AM GOING TO MELT!!!!! DNF/DOA :(

Here's some of my 'favorite' aspects of this book:

Numero uno: the bike portion of the Ironman was supposed to be only 56 miles. The planners combined the 3 hardest events at the time. Some idiot didn't speak up when they were discussing to say the bike race with which they were basing distances on WAS A TWO DAY RIDE. I don't necessarily mind a long bike but let's consider shortening this marathon thing to make up for it.

Dos: the Great Black Monster, The Queen K. Shifting winds, long-punctuating hills, jet black, 120 degrees on the surface. "It's the anvil against which triathletes are hammered into Ironmen- or beaten into submission." And we have to run on this thing too???

Tres: hill back up to Alii drive. After a 112 mile ride a hill to run up. Then a marathon. Awesome.

Finally: did I mention this was my first Ironman?

Basically the rest of the 293 pages is just repeating this crud over and over. History is fun and motivational, but I would have preferred my blissful ignorance: Kona as a tropical paradise, me on my bicycle with tail-wind both ways, and the marathon being changed into a drinking game or something.

So, you can imagine my disappointment and new-found hatred toward this Ironman thing. I vowed...never again. What's the point of training 25+ hours each week and melting into the pavement anyways.

It's funny being 22 years old and swearing off the most acclaimed event in your sport. I felt like Tiger swearing off the PGA, Lance le Tour, Montana the Superbowl, Federer the Wimbledon. I didn't care. I hated the Ironman and I haven't even finished one yet.

It's also funny being exhausted/delusional/crazy/etc. and changing your mind almost every minute. Read: Coach calls. Sign up for Coeur d' Alene June 27, 2010. Also, throw in the California 70.3. To qualify for Kona in 2010 of course. Add in AZ, and that will make 3 IMs for 2010. Pretty freaking ridiculous for someone who wasn't going to do any more after Kona, 2009. And the craziest part? I am actually excited to start training for all these IMs in 2010. This proves I have turned into a triathlon nut-case.

111 Days Out...

2009-06-21T20:05:00.005-06:00

I don't feel that writing about the great training rides or awesome swim practices is doing any justice to my experiences en route to Kona. I am trying to have fun during training and write about my journey maturing both as a triathlete and as an individual. However, the lows each athlete experiences is part of the big picture too. In the end, the lows are what makes us stronger. Or what breaks us.

Right now is a low, a slump in my normally cheery and positive attitude. I'd like to believe this stream of emotions is product of another taper cycle that has come and gone (aka too much time on my hands to think).

-I get sick to my stomach each time I think about Kona-- literally run-to-the-bathroom nauseous. I can't even force myself to watch more than 3 minutes of the 2008 Ironman World Championships (normally one of my favorite pastimes whenever I needed extra motivation).

-I've never felt this much pressure from anything in my life. I am a grade-A perfectionist: there will never be enough time to prepare, my splits will never be fast enough, and my accomplishments never good enough. It is great to be a perfectionist, but it is often a hard way to live.

-I am scared. I've put this much on the line only one other time in qualifying for a swim cut my junior year. I sacrificed more than a 15-year-old should; swimming endless laps for countless hours. I did everything right for a year, but missed the cut by 0.18 seconds (you can't even stop a stopwatch in that amount of time) and have been a mental wreck of an athlete ever since.

-I don't want to disappoint anyone. My coach, my friends, the random people congratulating me at the gym. Most importantly MYSELF.

-Sometimes I feel like I just don't belong. I talk a lot of shit, but mostly because of an underlying self-doubt. I am still unsure as to what my place is among 1,799 of the best athletes in the world.

-The realization of my chances for a Kona qualifying spot never hit me until April of 2009. It was always in the back of my mind, but only after a few years of serious training and racing under my belt. Now that I'm here, I don't quite know what to do with myself besides train and hope.

Today I Earned My Stripes

2009-06-16T16:04:00.026-06:00

When I left the house today for my ride I had a premonition or a funny feeling that something was going to go rotten. I don't normally get these feelings and I don't see dead people. However, I knew I shouldn't have put off going for my ride until noon. I figured I would get sucked up in a tornado or struck by lightening because Colorado has apparently turned into the suckiest state ever.

I started off. So far so good. The sun was brighter than normal. Oops, I forgot my sunglasses on the kitchen counter. Phew, THIS was the bad thing that was supposed to happen. I can deal with 90 minutes of sun. I may lose a contact, but at least I won't get sucked into the sky.

Two minutes later, I heard the most horrendous noise from the back of Cervelo. It sounded like a mixture of angry monkeys and my dad (very similar sounding). Then pshhhhhhhhh... silence. I haven't gotten a flat since the 2005 Bike Tour of Colorado (probably due to the fact that I rode outside in Ohio maybe 5 times total), so I was confused as to what just happened to me. I knew something...had...gone...wrong. I looked down. My legs were still there. I checked my arms. No blood. It suddenly hit me that I had gotten a flat tire.

I pulled over and started cursing. Level 15 pissed. I knew I should have just woke up and went for a ride like I usually do. Ugh...

I plan ahead (sometimes), so my black box was packed with a spare tube, CO2 cartridge, and those plastic thingies you stick in the tires.

BUT, I also had my cell phone. Ah my little pink slice of joy. I could call my sag wagon. I could ride home in air conditioning. I could go straight back to bed. HECK, I could even walk home being as I was less than 2 miles away. I would do my workout later!

That ran through my mind for like 3.2 seconds. I don't normally have such crappy thoughts about biking (running yes), but I really had no idea how to use a CO2 cartridge (it was on my list of things to learn). I also HATE to see myself fail. What if I look like a fumbling idiot trying to put this thing on, the silver bullet shoots off, hits me in my unprotected sunglass-less eye, and I DIE?!?!

Then I thought of Chrissie Wellington and her flat in the 2008 Ironman World Championships. She fumbled. She messed up. Then I thought of ME in the 2009 Ironman World Championships. What kind of triathlete am I? One to give up at some tiny little setback. Hardly. I NEEDED to do this. If I failed, so be it. I smiled, turned up the ipod, and started my watch (if I was going to do this, I definitely had to make a challenge out of it). Tire off (of course it had to be the back one). Bad tube out. Plastic thingies in. New tube in. Plastic thingies out. Now, the challenge. I have never EVER changed a flat with a CO2 cartridge. In fact, I just bought the kit before I left for Hawaii in May.

What was this black thing? Shouldn't you be smoking stuff out of it, not changing tires with it? I stick what in what?
Lucky for me I graduated college! Actually, lucky for me there was only 2 holes on the black thingy. I assumed one hole was for the tire and the other for the CO2 cartridge (thank you 5 years of higher education!!!). Now came the moment of truth. Step one. I jammed the black thingy on the tire thingy, making sure the tire thingy was OPEN. Nothing popped, fizzled, or cracked. Ready for step two. I screwed the silver thingy on the black thingy. Somewhere I remember hearing that the black thingy pops a hole in the silver thingy and then you slowly unscrew to let the air into the tire thingy.

I did it. Uh-oh...the silver thingy turned cold and I thought "Oh shit, there goes my eyeball." Then, right before my eyes, the tire inflated. I almost CRIED I was so happy. I wanted to jump up and down. I wanted to pump my fists. I looked around searching for a witness who could testify to my accomplishment. No one.

"Champions are made when no one is watching." :)

RACE AND TRAINING ETIQUETTE

2009-06-05T13:45:00.027-06:00

I am sick of hearing stories of athletes being injured by other peoples' stupidity. We have enough to worry about with crazy stupid non-athletes. But other athletes? You should know better. Plus, I am bored and I figured this would be more productive than taking another stupid facebook quiz. So, I decided to compose a list of triathlon racing/training etiquette.

THE SWIM

Race---

Under NO circumstance should you start in the front of the pack unless:

1. Your name is Michael Phelps
2. Your arm is marked with a number between one and twenty

3. You can hold at least 1:20 pace in the pool

If you do not meet any of these criteria, GET BACK. You will have absolutely no race advantage starting 15 feet in front of the back of the pack. You will not be able to draft off the faster swimmers because by the time you get things moving, they are already at the first buoy. In the process, you will get kicked. You will get punched. You might even die. Plus, you make the race miserable for people who might be banking on the swim to get a lead.

A demonstration of improper swim race format:

Please take note of the immense chaos caused by your actions. You don't win the race in the swim. SO WHAT IS THE BIG HURRY?

PS Thanks EveryManTri for the art

What the start of a triathlon is supposed to look like:

Notice the non-existent chaos here. Everyone seems to be a lot happier!

Train---

Now, swim training is a bit different. You can do whatever your heart desires as long as you have your own lane. If you must split a lane, make sure you use that nifty line running through the bottom as guidance. No body part should cross that line...EVER.

THE BIKE

Race (non-drafting)---

1. If you show up on race day with a full on Discovery/Postal Service/T-Mobile matching track suit, bib shorts with logo running down the side, skin tight jersey slightly unzipped, and shoes/aerohelmet/gloves of the same color, YOU BETTER BE PREPARED TO BRING IT ON THE COURSE. I am slightly amused by 'athletes' wasting their money to look cool rather than putting in the hours training. I get a little tickle of joy whenever I pass someone with a $600 aerohelmet whose cadence is well below 60 rpms.

2. Get the fuck off my back tire. You will get a penalty. Plus, if you are that stupid to draft in a non-drafting race, you probably don't know how to draft to begin with. Don't be stupid. Don't be dangerous.

3. Someone passing you is not a reason to speed up. They have fifteen seconds to pass or risk getting a penalty. Seeing someone next to you is not reason to go into an all out sprint to prevent the person from passing you. You will eventually wear your legs and ego down. The same goes for highway driving --- choose a speed AND STICK TO IT.

4. Keep your water bottles in the cage. If you need to discard a bottle/gu packet/half-eaten power bar throw the MF clear off to the side of the road. It is unimaginably difficult to make crazy fast movements in the aero position. Especially if a water bottle is heading straight for your head.

5. Learn how to run with your bike in the transition area. I know you can only lift 3 pound dumbbells and it is so difficult to control a 14 pound bike. But learn.

Case in point. She dropped her bike right in front of me. It could have been a disaster had she not been slightly off to the side.

6. Also learn how to rack your bike. You are in a hurry. And you should be. Just have some respect for other people's property.

7. Under no circumstance should you blow a snot-rocket if there is an athlete 15 feet in front, back or side of you (sometimes flight pattern can be sporadic...)

Train---

Bike training is slightly different than racing because we also have to worry about vehicles and angry drivers who do not want to share the road. Therefore, I must break this down into two categories:

MOTOR VEHICLE DRIVERS

1. I have a 20 pound carbon-fiber bike under me. You are driving a 3,000 pound piece of metal. You win!

2. The Governor of Colorado passed a state law on May 11, 2009. You must give cyclists 3 feet when passing. Here it is in case you don't believe me: http://bicyclecolo.org/. If the heat from your exhaust pipe burns my eyelashes as you pass, you are too close. If I ever catch up with you, I will spit on your car and throw your dog off the side of a bridge (Anchorman).

3. It is not my fault I am out riding while you are stuck in some mediocre job that forces you to drive around all day. We all make our own choices in life. My decision is no reason for you to flip me off.

OTHER CYCLISTS

1. Please STOP staring at other cyclists when you pass in the opposite direction. Nod your head! Shout hello! Or mind your own business and look ahead! I don't really understand why people do this. It is creepy. And if you are doing this to size me up, just be reassured that I am probably faster than you.

2. Shout "on your right" when you pass. Or buy a bike bell. Most people do not have eyes in the back of their heads. If they do, I am sure their helmet is covering them up.

3. I don't understand how this could even be an issue, but I have heard of two very serious accidents being caused this way: if you are turning around, making a sudden stop, or performing any action other than moving straight ahead, LOOK AROUND YOU!!!! I am concerned about cars, my heart rate, my cadence, my workout, the time, my mileage, ETC. I cannot sit there and guess that you might be sick of riding straight forward and decide to make crazy figure eights in the middle of the road instead.

4. If someone is on the side of the road, ask them if they need help. Even if you have no clue how to change a flat. Karma can be a bitch.

THE RUN

I am by no means a running guru so I might be slightly off-basis here. What I DO know that we are all trying to give it our best and finish strong while fighting through varying amounts of pain. This is the last leg. Be happy!

1. Don't scowl as people pass. Smile...things could be a lot worse. It doesn't matter that your bike split was .003 seconds slower than last year. You are doing a triathlon! Sometimes we forget that during the run.

2. Do not stop, throw up your hands in disgust, and grunt loudly. No one cares that you are a quitter and no one is going to join you on your walk of shame if you do decide to make it to the finish line.

3. Do not try to cut in front of other people at the aid stations. If I am running and you suddenly zoom in front of me to grab the water that my outstretched hand was just about to grab, be prepared to feel the wrath.

4. If you have any type of GI distress, please use the restroom. They have port-o-potties for a reason. I feel like throwing up enough during a run without your help.

Train---

Much like swimming, running is very individualized and therefore very little can be done to piss people off.

1. If I say hi to you on the trail, say hi back. I know that you that you are not a contender for the gold in London 2012. One simple hi will not detrain you for the Olympic games. If you are too out of shape to talk when you run, that is a different story but at least nod your head.

I think that is good enough for now :)

Honu 70.3 Race Update (sorry a little late)

2009-06-05T10:04:00.008-06:00

Me & Reigning IM World Champ

A lot of things happened that made the trip so extraordinary and memorable. En route to LAX, I sat next to a girl and her brother from Colorado. She was racing the 70.3 as her FIRST EVER triathlon. When I first discovered that she was in my age group, my Tonya Harding instincts immediately began surfacing, but the baseball bat remained tucked away :) Hearing her talk about passion for the sport and 'just wanting to finish' brought me back to my first tri in 2004. I wasn't concerned about who had the fastest bike, who had the most expensive shoes, or who my main competition was. I busted my ass just to finish and I enjoyed the experience along the way. Since then, I have veered away from that attitude and it is time to bring myself back.

I hung out with her and brother for most of the trip. He took amazing race pictures that I thought I wouldn't be able to get, and I am truly grateful. It was also nice having a cheering section!

Race morning I wasn't really nervous (which is never a good sign for me). Even though I had TWO 3's in my race number, I had shit thoughts in my head that I couldn't seem to get out. As a result, the race was not so great:

1) my outfit sucked and gave me rash burns in places I didn't think possible

2) my C. Velo literally fell apart before the race. I had to buy new aero bars, new computer, new cable thingy that got frayed. I spent $300 and my C. was in the shop from when I got there Wednesday until late Thursday because they had to order parts. So, I didn't get a chance to ride very much.

3) I gained a lot of weight while tapering. It has happened before in swimming, but when you are in the pool it's really no big deal. Running with 4 extra pounds in the sweltering heat was tremendously difficult.

4) I was unprepared and under trained. For everything.

5) My contact fell out 10 miles into the bike. I did 4 hours of the race only being able to see out of one eye.

6) I dumped a bottle of Gatorade on my head instead of water. I was trying way too many new things nutrition-wise race day. And I encountered too many 'unexpecteds' on the course that should have been 'expecteds.'

All of these aside, I still managed to qualify for Kona. The energy I received from my friends and family was something I have never experienced in my life. Until this race, I did not realize how many people have changed my life and who support me day in and day out. I would not be here without you! You know who you are...and I could never thank you enough!

Now, it's training time.

It's ON...

2009-05-26T11:36:00.003-06:00

like Donkey Kong!

Never Have I Ever...

2009-05-20T13:18:00.005-06:00

After coming home from a training ride today, my nosy (ha ha) mom asked me how far I went. My response: "only 25 miles." Only 25 miles? She shook her head (in the usual 'Julia you are crazy' way) which led to my reflection for the day:

Never Have I Ever...

1. Thought a 25 mile bike ride would be an easy 'recovery' day

2. Thought a sprint distance triathlon would be an easy workout

3. Thought taking four showers in one day would ever be possible

4. Thought working out four times a day would ever be possible

5. Thought I would use the terms brick, zone 2, T1, etc. on a daily basis

6. Thought I would get more excited over a new pair of cycling shoes than a new pair of high heels

7. Thought my car would be filled with protein bar wrappers, a wetsuit, two workout outfits, 3 pairs of running shoes, and a swimsuit all at once (and it smells the way it sounds!)

8. Thought spending $7,000 on a tri-bike would be a good investment

9. Thought Power Bars taste better than cookies

10. Thought 8 different tan lines would be a sign of hard work

11. Thought I would automatically 'round-up' my age on January 1st

12. Thought that bungee laces are the greatest invention to mankind

13. Thought that getting a M-Dot tattoo would be the greatest brand of accomplishment

14. Thought of not getting a M-Dot tattoo because that would mean taking 10 days off from the pool

15. Thought I would be this passionate about anything

Trial run...hilarity does not ensue

2009-05-16T16:21:00.005-06:00

In light of recent news that my mom will be moving to Minnesota for a year, my dad and I decided to make a trial run to the grocery store today in order to practice "being adults" (as my mom put it). 1 hour 42 minutes (avg HR 42% Max, RPE 20), $112.43 dollars, and 2 near-death experiences later, we came out of King Soopers with 6 bags of groceries. Overall, effort was good. Despite falling off pace around minute 67, we managed to finish strong.
Here is the product of our efforts:
1. Frosted Flakes
2. 10 Vitamin Waters (since plain water is just too boring)
3. Milk
4. Coffee
5. $20 pre-made tuna from deli which we later discarded in the dairy section because we collectively decided it looked like 'crab vomit.'
6. Bananas (a MUST)
7. 1 case diet soda (see number 2)
8. Orange juice
9. Onion Bagels
10. Orbitz Watermelon BLAST gum

However, here is what my mom's list read (which lay crumpled on the seat of the truck during our practice). You decide if our efforts were successful...
1. Chicken breast
2. Brown rice
3. Tuna (ALMOST...)
4. Orange juice (SUCCESS!)
5. Tomatoes
6. Spinach
7. Milk (SUCCESS!)
8. Whole-grain bread
9. Broccoli (GROSS)
10. Anything else you think is acceptable (LOOPHOLE!!!)

The future still remains uncertain...
I'm not sure if we are now better prepared to face all of the tumultuous challenges of adulthood; to leap into the great depths of laundry and sorting whites alone, to successfully make dinner without open flame, to remember not to starve the puppy.
One thing is certain...we are having Frosted Flakes for dinner tonight.

Words of wisdom from my high school swim coach...

2009-05-15T21:06:00.007-06:00

Two frogs fell into a deep cream bowl. One was an optimistic soul. But the other took the gloomy view. "We'll drown," he lamented without much ado, and with a last despairing cry, he flung up his legs and said "Goodbye." Quote the other frog with a steadfast grin, "I can't get out but I won't give in, I'll just swim around till my strength is spent, then I'll die the more content." Bravely he swam to work his scheme,and his struggles began to churn the cream. The more he swam, his legs a flutter, the more the cream turned into butter. On top of the butter at last he stopped, and out of the bowl he gaily hopped. What is the moral? It's easily found...if you can't hop out, keep swimming around!

It's officially 2 weeks out from Honu 70.3 and I am not really feeling the competitive vibe yet (aka I'm pretty out of shape and really bummed). I had my heart set on qualifying for Kona, but this might not be the race. My out-of-shapeness is 100% MY FAULT, but I think training in Ohio for a year did not foster any competitive drive...I was basically a GOD out there simply because I exercised consistently instead of sitting on the couch stuffing my face with Arbys. After a while, I became really tired of the "Jesus, back AGAIN?!?!?!" comments at the gym or the consistent "You are absolutely f*cking nuts" comments from almost EVERYONE. Thank God I had the support of my coach or I probably would've taken a triathlon hiatus until I moved back to Colorado.

However, now that I am back in the 'radi I feel like a worthless piece of sh*t. Especially when I am surrounding myself with all of these great athletes. Nobody eats Arbys. Or McDonalds. Or even food. Everyone is going raw/periodizing their lives/exercising 15 hours a day. I am no longer a GOD and I look like a weekend warrior...which is completely opposite to how I felt in Ohio. It's definitely an adjustment and I need to step up my game A LOT.

I take pride in the fact that I've never EVER quit ANYTHING, and I realize these next couple of weeks will only make me stronger. Now just sucks :(