My Journey to Ironman Part 10: What now?

So I finished an Ironman and met my goal to gain mental toughness. And, most importantly, I beat depression. Or did I?

The day after the race, I felt like a huge burden was lifted off my shoulders, and it was amazing! I felt changed, different. I saw the world differently. I felt differently about things. There were a lot of mundane things that I just didn’t care about and didn’t want to clutter my life with anymore. Eric says I emerged a confident woman, more like the pre-depression Mandy, only better. I didn’t experience post-race blues like I have after other races. I felt a sense of freedom and hope. After the race, when negative or depressing thoughts and feelings  sprung up, I was able to send them on their way relatively quickly, because I AM AN IRONMAN. It’s amazing how I felt I was capable of so much more than before the race. I really didn’t want to lose those feelings!

Then last weekend, a big trigger hit me. I’ve been pondering on it ever since. I realized that after the race, until last weekend, I’ve been in this bubble of positivity and warmth. And then I allowed that trigger to snuff out the light in my soul. I felt like it shriveled up or went into hiding. Since then, although I’ve recovered somewhat, I feel a little more like pre-Ironman Mandy than post.

Even though I knew the post-race euphoria wouldn’t last forever, I’m a little bummed it didn’t last longer. Driving home from work last night, I felt quite emotional with the realization that perhaps this mental test isn’t quite over yet. I had a taste, if only for a few weeks, of what it feels like to love myself. I really can’t remember when, if ever, I’ve felt that way. And I’m angry, because over the weekend, I allowed the trigger to wash most of those feelings away. I realized on that 45 minute drive home, that the real application of what I learned will come when I can love myself no matter what. Now that I know what it actually feels like to feel good about myself, I hunger for it. I shed a few tears as I determined to not let anything (especially myself) convince me I’m not worthy of love, compassion and understanding, and most importantly, I DO NOT EVER want to go down the dark hole of depression again. I’m not naive. I’m 39 years old today. I know I’ll struggle with it again sometime. But the desire to beat down the negative committee burns in me hotter than a California forest fire. I am lovable and capable. I’m worthy of kindness, compassion, and understanding. And I am certainly worthy of being listened to and taken seriously (not all of my ideas are crazy!!). That means I need to block out the negative with my own Great Wall of Mandy, stand up, and roar! And not back down! It’s time to fire the negative committee and permanently hire the Mandy Power committee! Comparing how I felt in June 2015 with the month after Ironman, is literally like night and day. I don’t ever want to be lost in the dark again. Ever.

So it’s time to set some new goals. I really want to apply what I’ve learned to my future and I’m starting out on a good foot -  after almost two years of looking for a new job, I was finally offered and accepted a new one which I start on the 16th. I’m so excited and finally feel the confidence to take on a challenging new role. 

I’m also looking forward to taking this year off from triathlon. Having my life revolve around my training schedule for a year was tough. I can’t wait to spend time doing things on our house and doing things with the kids. My daughter is going to try a few triathlons this year, so I’m super excited to coach her and do some races by her side at her pace. I’ve also loved not having to stress about missing workouts if I get sick (which I did right after we got back from Australia) - because I have no races to train for! It’s been great. Oh, and I’m also loving getting to sleep in on Saturday. I am feeling some withdrawals from not working out an average of 2 hours a day, and every now and then I have a panic-y moment when I wonder if I’m working out enough. But then I remember, it’s okay! You’re taking a break! It’s a good feeling.

In 2019, I enter the 40-44 age group. So my goal is to qualify for USAT Age Group Nationals again in Olympic distance and then qualify for the 2020 Age Group Worlds. That means I’ll need to shave off about 30 minutes from my fastest Olympic distance time. To prepare for that, I’m focusing on strength training and nutrition this year. I found a new place that does boot-camp style 30 minute classes, and I am loving it! I’m really looking forward to this next challenge, because I LOVE short distance. I’d much rather do 10x30-second sprint or hill intervals during an hour run than run at zone 2 for 3+ hours. Trying to see how fast I can go makes me happy! I’m also considering setting a goal to do some 5k races this year and see just how fast I can do one in.

As for long-distance, I have a few scores to settle. I want to finish Ironman Cozumel. I want to do an entire ironman that includes a swim and the entire bike course. And I want to finish St. George and Oceanside 70.3s with much better times. Raleigh, North Carolina 70.3 is on my bucket list, since that’s about 2 hours from where my family lives. I also want to break 2 hours in a half marathon. I’d love to do some trail half marathons, since trail running is my happy place. But, longer distances will have to wait until our kids are out of the house. It’s just too much stress for me to try and juggle everything like I did this year. I have every intention of being an active grandma, so consistent exercise will definately be part of my future.

Bottom line, I am pawing the ground at the start gate, a newly minted powerful race horse, ready to take off. I feel empowered to be a better me, to live a better life, and to discover what it is I’m really supposed to be doing with my talents, skills, and lessons learned. I’m so excited for the future! I haven’t felt that way in YEARS! And I’m really looking forward to learning how to continue growing my mental strength. The more I can learn about beating depression, the more I can share with others so we can end this epidemic!

Thank you for reading about my journey. I hope it’s inspired you to go after tough goals. You don’t have to finish an Ironman to conquer depression or gain mental toughness. But you do have to do something. Sitting on the couch watching Netflix, scrolling through Facebook,  watching countless YouTube videos, or even reading dozens of self-help books won’t change your life. You have to make it happen. But you CAN do it!

My Journey to Ironman, Part 9: The Day I BEAT DEPRESSION - and Gained Mental Toughness

Race morning came and I actually felt relatively calm. This was a happy surprise. But, I felt prepared. I knew I’d done everything in my power to prepare for this race. I’d done the training, practiced my nutrition, been in several difficult races and training sessions. I’d taken many steps towards earning the mental toughness that I craved. I was looking forward to a beautiful swim, a potentially hot and windy bike, and a wonderful run along the ocean. I was ready to hear, “Mandy, you are an Ironman!”

Transition opened at 4am, because the 70.3 athletes would start at 5:30 (The sun rose at 5am, making this early start time possible). I got all my stuff ready with plenty of time to spare since the full didn’t start until 7am. Grateful for the experience at Nationals where I had to wait a long time to start, I was able to just relax and soak everything in. I enjoyed a gorgeous sunrise, which reminded me of an even more beautiful one I’d seen the day before we left Utah for Australia. I just felt so warm inside. I then headed over to the swim start to watch the 70.3 athletes take off. I was filled with excitement and anticipation watching them enter the water two at a time. After about 30 minutes, I headed over to transition again to go to the porta potty one more time and get on my wetsuit.

I was the next person in line for the toilet (what all bathrooms are called in Australia) when an announcement was made for all Ironman athletes to go stand by their bikes. I was like, huh? Thinking maybe a bike had been stolen or something, I decided to go ahead and use the bathroom, then head over to my bike. I heard the announcement again while in the potty, and started getting nervous I’d get in trouble for using the toilet first. They sounded pretty urgent. I hurried and made my way to my bike. As I walked down the aisle, I heard someone say, “... shark. They had to pull the swimmers out in May at the 70.3 because of a shark…” What?! NO! There couldn’t be a shark! As the other athletes and I sat dutifully next to our bikes for the next hour, we all discussed the possibilities. I’d surprisingly never felt any fear about a shark during a race. Was there really a shark? Could we still swim but have a delayed start? A duathlon? If they did cancel the swim, would us first-timers really be an ironman if we finished? That thought haunted me the most. I’d had so much opposition to even get to the starting line. To think I still may not be an official Ironman if they cancelled the swim just crushed me.

Finally, they made the announcement that our swim was cancelled. They never officially announced that there was a shark, but we all knew. They’d gotten all the 70.3 swimmers out, and had them restart on the beach at the swim exit, 2 at a time, to head into transition and go out on the bike. As the first athletes ran in, we all started clapping for them. Tears came to my eyes at the showing of good sportsmanship. We were all in this disappointment together. No matter what came of the day, we all felt the same. But, we had to go out there and do our best with what we’d been given.

Once all the 70.3 athletes were out on the bike, they allowed all of us to head down to the beach, where they’d send us through 2 at a time to transition. At this point, I could feel my mental self slipping towards the darkness. I fighted it, because this was so not a good time. The nerves crept in, the negative dialog started ramming through the synapses faster than I could sprint, and I found myself having to pee a lot (usually, this is alleviated in the water at the swim start - the warmest part of any triathlon!). Also not a good start to a potentially hot day. I seeded myself as close to the beginning as possible, just wanting to get out there already. While this was a smart physical move, it nearly mentally undid me on the bike.

In the changing tent, I had to change (unlike many of the athletes) because I’d chosen to wear a bathing suit under my wetsuit (reduces saltiness and possible chaffing on the bike). Since my tri kit was in my transition bag, I couldn’t get it out and change into it once I learned our swim was cancelled. So, my transition was a bit longer than many. Knowing all too well the dangers of starting out too fast on a long ride, I kept it slow in the beginning. Unfortunately, everyone else didn’t have that mentality, and athletes were passing me left and right - worse than I’d experienced at the St. George 70.3. After a few miles, I got off my bike and checked my rear wheel to see if it was rubbing like the Las Vegas race, slowing me down. Nope. I started thinking, you’re not prepared for this race at all! Look at how everyone is just flying past you! I felt like I hadn’t trained one bit! It was mentally excruciatingly painful!

The first section went pretty well. I just kept reminding myself to stay steady, keep drinking and keep fueling. When I passed 30 miles and still felt okay, I did a victory dance in my head, since that was where I’d started feeling sick in Cozumel and St. George. The weather forecasters had  been saying the winds would die down throughout the day, but as the bike wore on, it felt like they were picking up. Heading back into town near the end of the first loop, I picked up some energy since I was nearing the half-way mark. At 56 miles, I took the roundabout slowly, remembering the pro who had fallen a couple of years before when she took it too fast. I didn’t want that!! I found out later that one of the female pros this year was hit by a kangaroo on her bike!

Thinking most of the athletes who were faster than me had already passed me, I set out happily on the 2nd lap, thankful I’d made it to that point. My emotions quickly turned however. By this point, it was really getting hot. I learned later that the temps topped out at 94 degrees. Thinking back to Toughman Half and Las Vegas, I reminded myself I’d had to run in temps that hot. I could surely bike through them. All my liquid and nutrition was hot. But I kept fueling and hydrating. From town to the first aid station was the worst part of the course. There was no shade, plenty of chip seal, and I could feel the heat radiating from the ground. To top it off, there were headwinds and crosswinds coming from the south that were also hot. I started passing athletes pulled over to sit in the shade for a bit. By the time I got to the 1st aid station, I felt like a piece of burned toast (although, thankfully, I also did a fantastic job of applying sunscreen throughout the day and

didn’t get sunburned at all!). When I arrived, I had to call for help because I was just so spent. I was encouraged to get off my bike, and I almost toppled over. I was so hot. The volunteer off my helmet, took out the vent cover, and started handing me ice to put down my clothes so I could cool off. I sat on a milk crate and sucked on some ice and drank some Endura. It was cold. Oh so good. The volunteer refilled my bottles and grabbed more nutrition because I was running low, even though I’d refilled at my special needs bag. I was mentally trying to collect myself and convince myself to stand up and go finish this thing. After about 10-15 minutes, I finally got up and headed out again.

I kept hydrating as much as I could. At the next aid station, I had to sit for another 5 minutes or so to cool down. The guy sitting next to me was asleep, waiting for help. He woke up and said his quad had cramped up and he couldn’t move, so he needed medical help to go back in. At this point, I’d watched 4-5 pickup trucks with 7-9 bikes stacked next to each other heading back to transition, their owners sitting along the side of the course at various places waiting for medical help to take them in. I debated whether I should quit too. But I decided to give it a go. The volunteers thought I was crazy to go back out - they thought I was going to quit. But, I told them I had to try.

At the next to last out and back, I was directed to turn right instead of left. Apparently, the smoke I’d been breathing in for the past 5 miles or so was from a bush fire, so they’d cut that section of the course. On the one hand, I was overjoyed at skipping 10k on the bike. On the other, I thought, that’s even more reason to not call myself an official Ironman. What’s the point of continuing on in this misery? I focused on breaking down the remaining distance into 5-mile intervals. I kept repeating, just make it 5 more miles, then you can quit if you want. When I hit 91 miles, I did a huge happy dance in my head and tears sprang to my eyes, since that was where I had dropped out in Cozumel. Just a little further I thought. I finally made it to that first aid station again, about ready to collapse. They’d already taken down the station, but there were still a couple of drinks. And they were still cold. The previous aid station hadn’t had anything cold. Athletes stopped behind me too, calling out to the remaining volunteers for water, ice, and Endura. We were all parched! I started crying, not knowing how I could keep going. I was so hot and tired. The volunteer told me it was only about 10 miles to the finish, and they knew I could do it. Finally I hopped back on and headed to transition.

That was the hardest, but most life-changing 8 miles of my life. After about a mile or two, I just didn’t want to continue. I felt similarly to how I’d felt in Las Vegas. I just had no desire left to keep going. I wanted to quit. I started envisioning quitting. And then my mind was barraged with memories of all the sacrifices I’d made. The 3:30 am wake-ups, missing parties and events because I had to go to bed early, St. George 70.3, Oceanside, Toughman Half, AF Canyon half marathon, Eric’s accident, Las Vegas Half, St. George Marathon, and the thousands of internal battles when depression tried to take over. Then I thought of all the people back home who were cheering for me - people at work, at church, triathlete friends, my kids. Then, I had a very clear picture enter my mind of what would happen if I quit. I saw myself slip into a horrible depression. One like I’d never experienced before. And I knew that the disappointment in myself over quitting would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. I knew if I chose to quit, I’d slide into the black hole, and I felt pretty certain I’d never be able to pull myself out again. At that moment, I decided I didn’t want my life to be like that. I didn’t want to feel that way. I’d already had a taste of that intense sorrow, mental anguish, and even physical pain. I did not want that again. So I told myself, I don’t care how miserable you feel, you will finish this race!

I amazingly picked up the pace heading to transition, despite an increase in the winds. I was also excited to realize I hadn’t had a flat tire at all, despite all the chip seal. Win! In transition, I had never felt so happy to get off my bike! Eric met me on the other side of the changing tent with cold water and ice. We figured I had about 8 hours to do the marathon, but I didn’t want to walk the entire time! I was determined to run as much as I could. This was my favorite part of the race, after all! And I’d just finished the hardest part for me! I could do this!

Since it was a 4-lap run course, I got to see a lot of people on the run. They gave out colored arm bands for each lap, so you knew what lap everyone was on (and didn’t forget which one you were on). I loved running next to the ocean. I could focus on the waves at times, and that helped. There were a lot of spectators since the run course was so small, which was great. Australians love shouting out things like, “Well done!” I jogged the first two miles, than had to stop and walk. Then the pain settled in my legs like a heavy fog. From my hips to my toes, every inch ached. I’d never experienced anything like it before. Then I felt like I had post-charlie horse cramps in my calves that felt weird. I realized this wasn’t going to be the run I had been hoping for. Nothing new.

At the last aid station before the armband area, I saw the teacher from the class that had adopted me! She and her two kids were there, and she said a few of the students from her class were volunteering too (I noticed them on my next lap around). That was great!

Not long after starting my second lap, I saw Eric and started crying. I was in so much pain, I didn’t know how I was going to keep going. I really didn’t want to walk the rest of the marathon. Eric had given me a pacing goal, and it seemed much faster than I was thinking I had. I started panicking that I wouldn’t finish in time because I didn’t know if I could keep up the pace. He told me he had given me a goal pace based on getting to the finish chute during the Women for Tri Light up the Night hour (8-9pm), which I had wanted to do. But I didn’t have to go that fast to finish in time. I was relieved. So during my second and third laps, I’d run until I started feeling like I would throw up, and then walk a while. I was amazed at how many athletes I saw during my first two laps pulling over to the side to throw up. It made me so grateful that I’d learned how to fuel and hydrate during a hot race so I wouldn’t have a lot of stomach issues. During the entire ironman, I only used a porta potty maybe 3-4 times, which meant my body was absorbing the liquid pretty well (and then sweating it right back out). So much better than St. George marathon!

On my fourth lap, an athlete from the Philippeans and I walked and talked for a while, which was fun. I had run/talked with another athlete for a while on my third lap. It’s one of the great things about an Ironman, especially an international race - you get to meet so many cool people from around the world. Anxious to get to the finish line, with about 4 miles left, I decided to use Eric’s trick of jogging past two cones and walking past 4, despite a stiff wind that had just kicked in. Unfortunately, it burned my last match. With three miles to go, I hit a wall. I had no more gas in the tank. Nada. It was all I could do to command each foot to move. I had visions of collapsing because I just didn’t have anything left. Then a clear voice in my mind said, “take your last gel.” I normally don’t take any nutrition that close to the finish line, but I decided to listen and take it anyway. I was desperate. My throat was so dry, I picked up two cups of water at the next to last aid station, and sipped until I got to the last aid station. At this point, I had about two miles left, and I felt just a little energy return. I had to turn my hat around backwards so I wouldn’t lose it in the strong winds. Sand kept getting in my eyes. With the little energy return, positive thoughts sprang into mind. I thought of Eric’s former mission president praying for me, even though he is a leader in our church and I was racing on a Sunday. I started repeating phrases to myself - over, and over, and over. Like get to the red carpet, get to the red carpet, and picture that finish line and Eric is waiting for you at the finish line. I was trying to think of everything I could to keep my legs moving. The wind was so strong I couldn’t hear the finish line music and announcements until I was just about to it. When I got to the grassy area to turn left and head down to the chute, I concentrated on taking everything in, and not speeding too fast. For once, I was planning on NOT sprinting to the finish line! I was trying to put enough distance between
me and the guy in front of me so we could each have our own moment, but I also didn’t want to stop and walk. I slapped a bunch of people’s hands coming down the chute, and my eyes searched for Eric. As soon as I spotted him, my eyes locked in on him. I told myself to keep smiling so I’d have good pictures, and I just kept going towards Eric. I heard them say Mandy Oscarson, welcome to the finish line! We realized later they didn’t say you are an Ironman to anyone coming into the finish line. I jogged into Eric’s arms, and he started crying! Yes, you read that right, he started crying, not me, lol. I was surprised I didn’t, but I’m guessing I was out of tears and in a little bit of shock that I’d made it. I made it. You can see the video here.

My official time was 14:34:52, so even if the swim and 10k of the bike hadn’t been cancelled, I still would have made it, although it would have been close. There were so many experiences I’d had over the past five years that I could draw on during the race to get me through. I’d recommend to a first timer to do as many races as they could afford before taking on an Ironman. Everything leading up to

such a big race prepares you to handle any situation you face.

When Eric and I talked about the race the next day, I realized there were three main things I learned from this experience.

The first was that things do work out, even if you don’t do exactly what you should be doing. Despite all of my feelings throughout the year that we shouldn’t do the Ironman, I finished it and we’re both still alive. Was the Holy Ghost prompting me? Probably. Would we have saved ourselves a lot of pain, stress, and suffering if we had decided to pull out of the race, or even to not go to Australia? Perhaps. But, if we hadn’t gone at all, we always would have wondered what if. And without all of the very difficult experiences, we wouldn’t have learned and grown as much as we did.

The second thing I learned is that Heavenly Father really does love me, and is interested in me, minute by minute, no matter what I’m doing. He prompted me to take that gel at the end of the race, and it gave me just enough strength to finish. Even though I was racing on a Sunday. And even though I hadn’t followed the promptings to pull out of the race. And even though I hadn’t felt His presence much over the past four years because my depression blocked most of it out. He was still there, by my side, guiding every step and brushing away every tear.

Eric pointed out the third thing. During that last stretch on the bike, I not only identified a trigger to my depression in the midst of a mental crisis, but I overcame it. I. BEAT. DEPRESSION. I still have to keep repeating that phrase to myself today. I beat depression. And that, my friends, is mental toughness. I didn’t just finish an Ironman. But I conquered depression, my nemesis for the past 4 years. In doing so, I achieved the goal I set 5.5 years ago, one that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to achieve. I gained mental strength. YES!

So now what? After one accomplishes such a huge goal, and feels like they are on top of the world, what comes next? The final part in my Ironman Journey tomorrow...

My Journey to Ironman Part 8: The Land Down Under

My nerves were raw about a week before we left for the land down under. All year, it seemed like we’d been climbing a mountain to even get to Australia, let alone do an Ironman. A few days before we left, my son came down with the stomach flu, and fervent prayers were sent that the rest of us would be spared. I couldn’t imagine having the stomach flu on a 15 hour flight! Thankfully, we were all okay.

The next obstacle came when we got into a little fender bender on the way to the airport. We still got there about 3 hours before our flight was supposed to leave. After a few minutes, the airline employee informed me I didn’t have a VISA. WHAT? I had applied for our Visas in April, and had received a confirmation email that they’d been granted. 2 hours later, we learned that I had switched my birth month and date and it had been rejected. So, Australia had to clear it out of their system, and I had to scramble to re-apply keeping my fingers crossed the approval would come through quickly. Another 20 minutes and it finally went through. We were so close to boarding time, that they didn’t weigh any of our luggage, including our bikes, which we’d packed in a double bike box. I’m grateful they didn’t then, as we probably would’ve missed our flight, but it wreaked havoc later.

When we went through security, they flagged both of our carry ons. We had to wait while they went through other passengers’ bags. My heart was racing! Would we make it?! They finally went through our bags - our sport nutrition got flagged. I’d just put it all in a plastic grocery bag, but since most of it was Honey Stinger gels, that counted as a liquid. The guy had to gather them all up in his hands and determine if they would fit in a quart sized bag. He said I just barely made it. Sigh.

We hurried to our terminal, and got there with enough time to go to the bathroom before we had to board. So much for dinner. The flight to LAX was uneventful, but I was getting nervous about our flight to Sydney. I’d never been on a plane for that long. Would I get blood clots in my legs despite the compression leggings I had on? Would I have to climb over Eric a hundred times to go to the bathroom? Would I sleep? What would the food be like? We’d received an email a couple days before stating the airline had changed their food servicer out of LAX, and the food on the plane wouldn’t be up to their standard so we’d receive a voucher. I emailed them and asked, what does this mean? Do I need to pack enough PB&J sandwiches for a 15 hour flight? They wrote back with a vague answer, but I decided to hope for the best. The food wasn’t all that great, but I wound up having a queasy stomach for a while, so I didn’t eat much anyway. Luckily, the flight to Sydney passed much quicker than I thought. I was only able to sleep a few hours, which stunk, knowing I’d have a three hour bike ride when we got there.

Sydney reminded me a lot of the US East Coast. A little humid, green, and similar to bigger cities, everything felt squished together. We had a wonderful visit with Eric’s former LDS Mission President and his family. We were able to swim in the ocean, visit the Sydney Opera House and Sydney Bridge. I biked through the amazing Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park, which included 2,418 ft of climbing. I discovered a new kind of cereal I love and Connoisseur ice cream bars, which I was super disappointed to learn are only sold in Australia. The best fish and chips (fries) we ate during our trip came from a place near Bayview, where we were staying. I also loved driving on the left side of the road! We thought with the US dollar being in our favor, things would be cheaper, but not so. We found out the minimum wage in Australia is $26/hour. With it being so high, that meant everything else was a lot more expensive too, compared to the US.

After 5 days, we readied ourselves to make the 4 hour flight to Perth, Western Australia. We had a hard time navigating to the car rental drop-off - the signs used different wording than back home, there were tons of cars, and we were scrambling to make our flight, even though we left with plenty of time. We went to check in and were told our bikes were too heavy - by a lot. We hustled to remove stuff from the bike box and put them in our other bags. Still too heavy. We missed our flight. We drug all of our stuff away from the check-in counters and I was tasked with getting more weight out of the bike box and evenly distribute it between all our bags so they wouldn’t be overweight as well while Eric went to try and re-book our flight. When he returned we started stripping everything we could think of - brakes, derailers, handlebars, and finally wheel bags. It was a mess. We were still 1 kilo over on the bikes and one of the employees finally took pity on us and let it slide. So, off to Perth.

Thanksgiving dinner

Coogee Beach

We wound up being on the same flight as Eric’s former Mission President, so when we arrived, we decided to have dinner together that evening. We walked around Perth for a while, while they reminisced about the time they had lived there, and had a lovely dinner together. The next day was Thanksgiving. We had chargrilled chicken and chips for dinner, and went back to our lovely Airbnb. The next few days included Eric’s mission reunion. It was fun meeting a lot of interesting people, including a few other Americans. I also got in some swimming, biking and running around Coogee Beach (where I was in a 300 meter netted area so sharks couldn’t get in - although jellyfish could!) and King’s Park. After the reunion, we headed North through the bush to Geraldton, where Eric served for 7 months. I was bummed that the area wasn’t overrun with kangaroo’s like Eric had described to me. Things had changed over 20 years!

The crazy winds made most of the trees grow sideways!

I really enjoyed Geraldton. We stayed in an 1850’s house that was maybe half a mile from the beach. I LOVED biking and running along the path and street next to the ocean. I thought I could get used to that. There was also a great protected bay area for swimming where I met up with some locals each morning for a swim. Eric visited the teeny tiny LDS church building and found some people working on family history there who filled him in on what had happened to a lot of the people he’d known on his mission.

After two days, we drove back south and stayed the night in Rockingham, another area Eric had served in. Finally, we were off to Busselton for the Ironman. All through the trip, I hadn’t really felt all that nervous about the race. We had so much time to acclimate (including getting our stomachs used to different foods) that I didn’t worry too much. Interestingly, I had a harder time with the three-hour time change between Sydney and Perth than I did for the 18 hour difference between Utah and Sydney. After a 2.5 hour drive, we started seeing the tell-tale signs of an Ironman race. Bikes that cost more than the cars carrying them, M-dot stickers, and people walking around in spandex. This was the part of the trip I’d been waiting for. My main reason for coming.


Getting checked in at athlete village was surreal. I felt much more prepared for this race than I had for Ironman Cozumel. I’d been doing triathlon for 5 years now and I felt like I belonged there. In Cozumel, I still felt so new at triathlon, that I struggled to feel like I had any business attempting that race. But since then, I had overcome so many things. After all the feelings I’d had throughout the year that we maybe we shouldn’t go, and after all the trials we’d had since our trip started, I was amazed we had made it in one piece!

The place we stayed at was like a campground with some chalets, which is what we stayed in. It was tiny but cozy. Unfortunately, the AC/heater was difficult to use, and I froze the first night because I’d turned on the AC trying to turn on the heater, and couldn’t get it to change. It was only about 3 miles from the race venue, which was great. Bright and early the next day, we headed over to the Busselton Jetty for the practice swim. The jetty is 1.8 kilometers out in the water, which is great because the Ironman swim is 3.8 kilometers. I only swam about a thousand meters that day and loved it! You could see the bottom, just like in Cozumel. Yea! I’d be able to watch the fishies as I swam during the race! The water was pretty calm and just beautiful. I was really looking forward to the swim. Five years ago, I didn’t think I’d ever say that! But I was especially looking forward to it because I assumed it would be the easiest part of my day during the race. The high temperature and wind forecast kept getting more ominous throughout the week. After highs in the lower to mid-70’s most of the trip, upper 80’s wasn’t going to be fun.

Friday afternoon was one of the highlights of the entire trip. At Ironman Australia, they have a program called adopt-an-athlete, where they pair up international athletes with a local school class. I volunteered and was paired up with a 3rd grade class (8-9 year olds). We exchanged a few emails and pictures leading up to the race, and they invited me to come visit their class. Their last day of school was the following Wednesday before summer break. It was so much fun visiting with them! They were all very respectful and asked some great questions. I loved hearing about them too! At the end, we took a group picture and a couple of the girls gave me hugs! I loved it! That will always hold a warm spot in my heart.

Afterwards, we drove the bike course, which had 5 out-n-backs, of which I would have to do twice. That evening I went for a walk along the beach and wished I could live this close to the ocean. I saw a few stingrays, so had to be careful to not venture too far out in the water. It was so peaceful and beautiful! I just loved it. Aside from the ridiculous amount of flies there, I decided I liked Busselton more than Geraldton. I really could get used to living in a place like that! The sand and water were exactly what I pictured when I went to my happy place during meditation when I was having a hard time sleeping.

Saturday was another practice swim and quick bike and run. Then I had to check everything in. Athletes wouldn’t be allowed to get to their transition bags race morning, so everything had to go in them on Saturday. I had stuck to my plan of reducing my fiber intake starting a couple of days before (thank you St. George marathon for that lesson). And I did a good job of limiting sweets, as well as eating dinner early Saturday evening. I made my portables for the bike, although they don’t have ham like we do, so I had to improvise and use some of their “bacon” (which is actually a lot like southern ham). I even did a good job of getting to bed pretty early and slept pretty well (amazing!). Only a few hours to go...

My Journey to Ironman Part 7: What it's Really Like to Train for One of these Things

Escape from Blackridge was another race I decided to do at the last minute. Rock Cliff and this one were just supposed to be time-out-from-training fun races. An algae bloom at Blackridge Reservoir meant the swim was moved to the rec center, where sprinters only did 150 yards. I felt great the entire race and captured another 2nd place age group and 5th overall female finish. I was so excited and proud of myself! As I was waiting for the awards ceremony to start, one of the race directors (RD) came over to me and pulled me aside. He said, you look happy, and I said yeah, I placed 2nd in my AG! He pushed out a smile, and said, great, well, have you heard from Eric (he was doing the Olympic)? I said no, my phone is back at the rec center and I assume he’s still out on the bike, or about to finish the bike. The RD said, well, I don’t want you to stress, but he’s been in an accident. My first thought was that maybe he’d hit a rock and crashed. The RD continued, he was hit by a car. What! Questions started flying out of my mouth, “Is he okay? Is he going to the hospital? Where is he? What happened?”  The RD said the paramedics were assessing him. He was waiting for more info, and he’d update me. He said he’d get the awards ceremony going soon and do my AG first so we could do what we needed to. I can’t share any other details at this time, because our lawyer is still working through the case.

Blackridge was just about a month into my actual Ironman training plan. For those not familiar, most Ironman training plans consist of 4 week blocks over 5 months. Three weeks of increasing duration to build a base, then a recovery week. Peak training is 15-20 hours a week of swimming, biking and running.

The hardest part of the next four months for me was just trying to juggle everything - it was harder than the race itself! I put the job search on hold.  From August 13th until December 4th, my life was a chaotic mess of planning/preparing enough meals and snacks to keep up with my calorie burn (and trying to incorporate as many whole foods as possible), feeding my family, helping care for the chickens, tending the garden, taking care of the aches and pains that go with training, keeping our house somewhat orderly, being there for my kids’ things, working full time, commuting a minimum of 90 minutes round trip every day, trying to stay healthy, attending regular chiropractic visits, training, showering, eating, repeat. Getting up at 3:30am became pretty routine, even on Saturday’s. I tried to get to bed by 8 or 8:30, but wasn’t always successful. 

Looking back, it is truly a miracle that I didn’t get sick other than a 2-day easy cold and a few stomach issues. It is also a miracle that I didn’t fall into a depression slump. I had moments - and a few rough days here and there. But overall, I held myself together. I had never experienced such all-consuming exhaustion as I did in October. I was completely physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually spent. I dropped many tears during workouts I just felt too tired to finish (and sometimes I couldn’t finish them). I thought many times that I never wanted to do another Ironman - and I hadn’t even made it to the race yet! My answer to just about anyone’s question became - after the Ironman…

Thankfully, I had three more pivotal races that helped prepare me. The Goldilocks Century ride at the beginning of September was a good one. I again got to ride with my friend Mary, and I don’t think I would have finished if she hadn’t been with me. She was worried she wouldn’t keep up with me since she’d just completed her first IM in Coeur d’Alene two weeks before. But it turned out I had trouble keeping up with her! I learned my friend is truly bad A&$, and I am grateful to have her as a friend. I also learned that a 100-mile bike ride hurts just as much as a 65, 70, and 80 mile ride. Giant step forward.

The BBSC Las Vegas Half at the end of September was one of the most challenging races I’ve done. It has more climbing (3,730 ft) on the bike than St. George 70.3. The hills are pretty constant for the entire 56 miles. I started out with my back tire rubbing against the frame, and had to wiggle it like crazy a few times, and finally got it fixed with some help. Since this wasn’t an A race for me, my heart just wasn’t in it. I didn’t really want to race from the beginning. I was so tired from training and life. The first bike lap went okay after we got my tire situated. But the 2nd lap really knocked me down. Physically and mentally I was completely spent by the time I finally rolled into transition - near the back of the pack.

I told Eric I was going to drop out. It was already really hot, with the promise of getting hotter. He ultimately convinced me to go ahead and start the run. He challenged me to go three miles and if I wanted to drop out, I could. Well, he knows me too well. When I got to three miles, I was feeling okay, and knew if I turned around, I’d just have to go back 3 miles, which would be half the distance I had to go to finish the race, so I might as well keep going. My favorite part of the race was going on the trail that leads to the Hoover Dam. There are a few caves that provided shade from the sun… such a welcome relief! The last mile and a half really killed me, though, as it was on a black-top road that was hotter than a firecracker on the 4th of July. It looked like the road stretched on forever. I turned onto a dirt trail and knew I was close. The closer I got, I realized Eric was yelling at me, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was saying they were about to close the course and pull down the finish line, so I needed to hurry. I thought I had 8.5 hours, but apparently not. I dug in and jogged the rest of the way and just made it in time, although I didn’t have my usual finish-line sprint in me. During that race, I was grateful I’d already done one hot race that year, and hoped this wasn’t an omen for what IM race day would bring. I once again was really disappointed with my slow performance, despite the heat. I had post-race blues big time. For the next few days, I seriously didn’t want to go to Australia, let alone do an Ironman. However, this race was a step forward in preparing me. Because even though I wanted to quit so bad and felt awful during and after the race, I finished it, my slowest 70.3 yet.

I had actually been looking forward to the St. George marathon, which was one week later. I was absolutely determined to get a faster time than my dismal 6 hours from 2013. I’d been having some pain in my right knee and my left pinky toe, and had switched running shoes three times during the year to try and find the right one. I have wide feet and under pronate. So I need a wide toe box with no stability. And I prefer lightweight shoes, even on long distances. But I still needed enough padding to protect my feet and legs. I was happy however that I wasn’t having the IT band problems that had reduced me to tears and walking 4 years before.

For once, the weather turned out to be beautiful. I was grateful for that as it took my mind off things a bit. I learned a lot about pre-race fueling from this race. A couple of weeks before, I’d had a 3.5 hour run with no stomach issues. I observed that the day before, I actually hadn’t eaten a lot, and hadn’t had much in the way of fruit or veggies. Leading up to St. George, I had eaten basically whatever I could get my hands on. I paid for it during the race. I lost count after 6 stops at a porta potty. I spent almost the entire race feeling like I needed to do #1, #2, or both. It sucked. However, I was still determined to finish faster than before. I had decided to take the same strategy as American Fork Run Against Cancer. I started with the 5:30 pacer with the hopes of getting down to the 4:30 pacer by the end. Unfortunately, because of all my potty stops, I kept ping-ponging between the 5 hour and 4:45 pacers for quite a while. The happiest moment of the race was when I got to mile 17. I was in pain, but not as much as 4 years previous - and I could still run! So I did. The last three miles were the hardest I’ve ever fought for in a race. Both of my knees felt like they were ensconced in fluid. I was tired and in pain. But the 5 hour pacer was right on my tail! I made up my mind to not let those red balloons pass me. Every time her voice sounded too close, I’d dig deep and push harder. What a difference an hour made! Four years before, there were almost no spectators once I got to town, and no popsicles left. This year, there were tons of spectators, I was grunting along with dozens of other runners, and there were lots of popsicles (which totally hit the spot!). I tried to detach the pain my legs were in from my body so I could keep going. Easier said than done. I focused on smiling for the finish line - and I did it! 4:56:28. I PR’d my best marathon time by 51 minutes, and I PR’d the course by an hour and 4 minutes. Although the race didn’t go as I’d hoped with my stomach issues (and I would have finished in about 4:45 if it hadn’t been for all those potty stops), I felt so good PRing by so much. I had some hope that maybe I could get a decent time at the IM. Another giant leap towards mental strength.

The next month and a half was a whirlwind. Trying to persevere with training was tough. I was making final preparations for our trip and I seemed to be surrounded by sick people either at work or home and was trying to stay healthy. Almost there...

My Journey to Ironman Part 6: Oceans, Hills, Failures, and Thrills

Around November or December 2016, Eric learned of his upcoming 20-year LDS mission reunion in Perth, Australia. He had been anticipating this, and wanted to sign up for the Ironman in Busselton, about 2.5 hours south of Perth. I was excited about the prospect of visiting Australia, but not sure I had time to train now that I had a 90 min round-trip commute to work every day. I hadn’t been able to get a new job, and that time would really cut into my training time. Eric registered right away, but I needed some time to decide if I really wanted to commit to this. I knew from experience that I had to get in my long workouts, finally figure out my nutrition for a 112 mile bike ride, and do more longer distance races to get ready. I finally decided to take the plunge, and I registered.

People often get “buyer’s remorse” after signing up for an Ironman, and I was no exception. For the next few months, I vacillated over whether this was really a good idea or not. we were unpacking and trying to work on the old house to get it sold, and I was trying to find a new job. Still, I came up with a strategy for my season, starting with Oceanside 70.3 in April. This would make for a long season, since Ironman was Dec 3rd, but I knew I would need as much endurance building as I could get.

I had been getting sick once a month since November leading up to Oceanside. I did everything I could think of to not catch more nasty germs. But about two weeks before the race, I got sick again and about a week out, I started feeling it in my chest. I went to the Dr. and got an antibiotic just in case my symptoms got worse. A few days before we left, I decided to go ahead and take them as a precaution. That was a bad decision.

Race morning was sunny and beautiful. The weather was supposed to be pretty mild. I was anticipating a much faster time than St. George considering the course had less climbing. Unfortunately, the illnesses I’d had, plus not fueling or hydrating very well, knocked me down on the hills the second half of the bike. I embarrassingly had to walk my bike up one of them. The course was absolutely beautiful, which was a great distraction. California had a lot of rain that spring, and riding through Camp Pendleton was amazing. Many of the volunteers were from the base, and it was great having buff young men call me ma’am and ask me if I needed anything. I felt great when I finally got out on the run, just happy to be off the bike. But, just like St. George, many of my tri friends were way ahead of me. Feeling alone, while the temperature was really heating up, I struggled on the second lap. I crossed the finish line 15 minutes faster than St. George, although my run was slower. I didn’t come close to my expectations. I again wondered if doing an IM was a good idea.

This was another race where I felt like I took one step forward during the race, and two steps backward after. Not only that, but taking the antibiotic wreaked havoc in my body and I got my first ever UTI during/after the race. All year long, I was susceptible to UTI’s any time I had an open water swim followed by a long bike ride. Thankfully, my chiropractor told me about LDM 100, which is made from a Native American Herb to kill harmful bacteria and viruses in the body. Once I started taking that on a regular basis, I didn’t catch another cold until after Ironman. It also killed UTI symptoms before they got too bad. It was awesome! 

I continued battling the negative committee in my head, who had almost daily meetings. I tried finding motivational books to read. I even tried firing the committee. The problem was, I just didn’t believe any of the positive things I tried to tell myself. The negative always won out. I always went back to the same thought patterns - you are disgusting, despicable, worthless, unlovable, and everyone would be so much better off without you. It got to the point that the committee no longer had to meet. I was so convinced these negative statements were true, I didn’t have to consciously think about them anymore. While depression didn’t seem as strong in 2017 as the past few, I just had that constant thought in the back of my head - when is it going to be too much? When will I finally crash for good, or step off that ledge? I always felt like I was one small baby-step away. I kept thinking maybe the Australia trip wasn’t a good idea.

I experienced a mixed bag at my next few races. I didn’t PR the Provo City Half marathon, where I’d set my PR 4 years before, and got lost during the Salt Lake Gran Fondo 65 mile bike ride, taking much longer than I wanted. On the other hand, I had a blast at the Little Red 70 mile bike ride, which I did with my friend Mary. The miles flew past, and I did the ride much faster than anticipated - 4:00:16. It wound up being one of my favorite events of 2017. The course was beautiful, it was well-supported, and the energy was amazing. I definitely want to go back and do that one again.

I also had a great experience on a training ride. My Kickr had been acting up for a long time, so over the summer, I mostly rode outside. On one ride, I rolled over some glass, and got a flat tire. Stupid 650 wheels - I wasn’t looking forward to trying to change it and it was the one ride I hadn’t brought my cell phone on. A scruffy-looking construction-worker guy pulled over in his work truck and asked if I needed help. I was a little nervous, but as I looked at the tire, I realized a piece of glass had made a small tear in the tire itself. Not knowing if I could make it home even if I changed the tube, I said a quick prayer, felt okay, and accepted the man’s help. He started telling me that they had a lesson at church Sunday about finding ways to help someone in need. So he decided to stop and help me. Turns out, he had a son out on a mission, and my husband works for the Missionary dept., so we got to talking about that. We had a great conversation on the short drive to my house. When we got home, I gave him some veggies from our surprisingly robust garden (we didn’t think it would do well since it was our first year having a garden there) to thank him. I was grateful he’d been willing to help me.

I had another great win when I decided at the last minute to do the sprint again at Rock Cliff. Not only did I place 2nd in my age group and 6th overall female (surprising since I had been training for long-distance stuff, which is quite different), but I PR’d the course! That was a step forward for sure.

The week after, I did the American Fork Run Against Cancer half marathon. My second race ever was the 5k version in 2012. Before it started, they announced how much money had been raised to fight cancer. It was huge, and I was overcome with gratitude that I’d had a tiny part in that. It was such a positive feeling to start a race on, that I’d always wanted to go back and do the half marathon, but my race schedule never had room. I still vividly remembered sitting on the grass after that 5k, watching the half marathoners come in and thinking, there’s no way I could ever do that! I was so exhausted after running 3 miles, I was sure I couldn’t run 13! Since then, I had run a few half marathons of course, but I really wanted to go back to that race since I now could indeed run 13 miles!

I decided to try a new strategy. I shut out advice from others, and I decided to start with a slower pace group so I wouldn’t start out too fast, then slowly speed up as I went. I didn’t know if I’d make up enough time to PR or even break 2 hours, which I REALLY wanted, but my main goal was to still feel strong those last 2-3 miles. Before the race, it became evident my body would challenge me. My womanly time came on stronger than it ever had before, and I had visions of running this race with blood dripping down my legs - not something I was particularly wanting to do. Eric pointed out some supplies he’d just happened to spot on a table, so I quickly grabbed something and took off to the porta potty with only a couple of minutes before start time. I took care of business, said a little prayer and we were off! I paced myself well, and only had to stop at a porta potty once about 3 miles in - for #2. Only one stop is great for me!

I set out again, just focusing on keeping my hr lower than usual and enjoying it. The drumline at around mile 6-7(?) really pumped me up (always a band nerd!). I happened to look down at my watch at the halfway point and saw I was just about at 1:02, which would put me close to my old PR time. I stayed determined to not let this get to me though so I wouldn't push too hard and lose it around mile 8-9 like I usually did.

I continued my fuel and hydration plan, being so careful to do both at even intervals (something I’m not super great at). I checked my watch at about mile 8.5, took stock and realized, hey, I feel GREAT! That has NEVER happened to me in a half marathon. So, I decided to pick it up a little, pushing up all the little hills.


With 2 miles left, I caught up to the 2:05 pacer, who had left at least 2 min before me in the first wave. I realized if I stayed with the pacer, I'd finish 2 min faster, or a 2:03 which would be a PR. But I was still feeling sooo amazing, I decided to push past.

The last 3 miles were awesome - I was passing people left and right, also a first for me in a half marathon. I can't tell you how many times I've been in the last three miles and fell apart and had to walk/jog and how frustrating it was to see people zoom past me. So this was exhilarating to me! Still thinking I was on course for around a 2:02 finish, and still feeling great, I decided to push hard the last mile. When we came out of the trees from the trail, I turned up to sprint speed (my favorite) and went as hard as I could. I had refused to look at my watch the last mile, so I had no idea what my final time was, but I was pretty sure I PR'd as I crossed the finish line, trying not to cry.

I felt great - not a lot of pain, and I reveled in how strong I'd felt the last three miles. After recovering a few seconds, I glanced down at my watch. 2:00:56. I was overwhelmed with emotion. On one hand, I couldn't believe I'd PR'd by almost 4 minutes after 4 years of trying. On the other hand, I couldn't believe I'd missed breaking 2 hours by 57 seconds (my official time was actually 2:00:55). It took me a good 10-15 minutes to try and get my emotions in check.

If it hadn’t been for that porta potty stop, I would’ve had it. Even with a good time, I was still 138th out of 331 in my age group! 35-39 year-old females are fast! I forced myself to stop thinking about all that though, and just focused on my success - that my new strategy had worked, I had felt like a million bucks the last 2 miles, and I had beaten my PR. Big leap forward towards mental strength.

My big race in July was the Utah Toughman Half. The swim had been cancelled the year before because of toxic algae. This year, the race directors had been trying to negotiate a new venue, but the other stakeholders were being extremely difficult. It was down to the last few days, and no one knew if… or where… this race would take place. I really needed this one to build my endurance for Busso IM. Finally the race directors announced the race would start at a different beach, Lincoln, on the west side of Utah Lake. Algae blooms had flared up in other areas of the lake, but not there. Yet. We all held our breath wondering what would happen. I went into the race feeling confident. I’d biked around most of the course on many training rides and was pretty familiar with it. Even though it was expected to be a hot day, I’d been training in heat and felt the mostly flat course would make it easier. When would I ever learn my lesson?

The swim was a 2-loop triangle. A section on two sides of the triangle smelled strongly like cow poo. It was awful swimming in, but it did propel me forward so I could get out of the water faster! The first lap on the bike was great. I felt strong. But, the second lap was getting hotter and I wasn’t doing fantastic on nutrition and water. I had a pretty fast bike time and was once again happy to get out on the run, determined to get a 70.3 half marathon PR. No such luck. Most of the run had no shade, and after the turnaround, we got blasted with the hot wind. We’d been running/walking in an oven on the way out. The sun sucked all the life out of me, and I couldn’t keep up my pace. My goal changed to finishing without needing an IV. I got ice every chance I could - holding it in my hands and dropping it down my shirt. I also tried to be very careful with water and nutrition. I kept thinking, this will be good training for the Las Vegas half Ironman in September, as it will likely be hot there. And who knows what the weather will be like in Australia. I wanted to quit, but I didn’t. At the finish line, my favorite part of the entire day was sticking my legs in the ice bath. Another step closer to mental strength.

My Journey to Ironman Part 5: Arctic St. George

2016 dawned with the promise of increasing my endurance and getting closer to the mental strength I’d been longing to find. I set two main goals - finish St. George 70.3 and complete Racetri’s The Works, which entails completing all of their races, the longest distance in each race. This meant I’d be doing two 70.3 races. I also signed up for a few half marathons, hoping to break my PR.

Training for St. George became more challenging than I had anticipated. Eric was experiencing more work stress, including another job change. We had started making repairs and updates to our house in the hopes of selling it. I am NOT a handyman. My brain simply doesn’t work that way. Power tools are not my friends. I really wish I could have hired Bob the Builder to pull my share. So this became a big trigger for my depression. Still, I kept doing my best at fitting in the long workouts, trying to take advantage of as much hill training as I could, and trying to help on the house although I felt I messed things up and just gave us more work to do. I was also told I was spending too much time training when I should be helping my family, so I felt guilty. Depression provides an unlimited supply of shame and guilt already, so I was feeling really weighed down.

SLTC Training Weekend

A fun Salt Lake Tri Club training weekend before the race had me singing a different tune. I learned I’d much rather sweat out a warm race than shiver through a cold one, so because St. George tended to be on the warmer side, even in May, I felt ready. Plus my dad was flying out from NC to support me, and Eric and my kids would be there. I had tons of friends who would be racing too, so I was really looking forward to waving to everyone along the course.

Race morning was cool and cloudy. The weather forecast called for some rain tapering off early on and mild temperatures. I can handle this, I thought. I did Ogden marathon in a cold, slushy rain. And part of the bike in Cozumel was a warm rain. So, I got this. I should have known by now to expect the unexpected.

During the swim, it started to rain. Many of the swim course volunteers, including Eric, got hypothermia. I finished the swim in 45:41 and quickly got on the bike. I immediately felt like I was dragging a boulder behind me. People were flying past me on the hills and on flats, which really knocked me down mentally. It wouldn’t be until after two more races and a month later that I’d learn something was wrong with my wheel that was causing friction and rubbing. I hadn’t had trouble training because I’d been indoors on a Kickr most of the time (after getting my wheel fixed in June, I went from 15.5 mph averages outside to 17.3 mph). So my seeming lack of strength through the 3,000+ ft of climbing on the bike really wore me down. About the time I got into Hurricane, a freezing, pouring rain came down from heaven. I was soaked. And I was only about 15 miles into the bike course. About mile 30, I started feeling nauseous. PTSD or cell memory from Cozumel I wondered? I took some Base salt, and within a few minutes, felt tons better. When I made it to the point where the cyclists pass Bluff St, and can see all the runners, I became even more discouraged. There were tons of people out on the run, and I still had 21 miles to go on the bike. I really wanted to quit. But, I kept pushing on. About all I can say to describe the next 10 miles, to the top of Snow Canyon, is cold and wet. It was miserable. I kept thinking of Ogden Marathon.

I can’t tell you how relieved I was to get to the top and make that turn to head down hill. Finally, a break! As I went to switch to my big ring gear, my hands were so frozen, they wouldn’t move enough to push the lever. When I realized I couldn’t change gears, I was bummed I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of the downhill. It turned out to be a blessing. As I coasted, cold air whipping around me, my legs both started shaking - bad. I had so little control over my body because of how cold I was, I was scared to death a gust of wind would kick up and knock me off - going 25+ mph. I started repeating in my head, “Please keep me safe Heavenly Father. Please don’t let me fall.” It worked. I made it all the way to T2, in my small chain ring. When I saw my dad and kids, all I could do was chatter my teeth in their direction. My hands were still frozen, so an angel volunteer came over and changed my wet socks for dry ones from my transition bag (which I couldn’t even open). I knew I’d get warmed up once I started running, so I kept going. A lot of people dropped out of the race in T2, many with hypothermia.

About a half mile out on the run, I stopped, sat down, and took off my left shoe and sock, thinking I had a rock in there. It turns out, it was just my foot thawing out! I felt great on the first half of the run, and was set to get a PR in a 70.3 half marathon. But then my stomach started acting up, and I had to stop at a porta potty quite a few times and start walking some. I was  frustrated because otherwise, I felt great. My stomach had a mind of its own. I kept going though, finishing with about 20 minutes to spare before the cut-off. The negative committee was back in session, berating me for another lack-luster run. So even though it was another step towards mental toughness, since I had overcome the elements, nausea, and stomach problems, I felt really awful.

The rest of my 2016 race season is actually a blur to me now. The only race I really remember was Yuba. I did the Olympic and was in about third place overall for the women… until I got a flat tire on the bike only 5 or so miles in. It took me about 25 minutes to change that blasted 650 tire. I did my best to catch up, but was never able to. By the time I got back to transition, the tire was flat again. The experience knocked so much out of me, I had a really slow run and was the last female to finish. I took a step back from mental toughness because I let that flat tire get to me so much it cost me a podium finish.

Most of my time and energy became consumed with selling our house and buying a new one. We were also planning on getting sealed in an LDS temple. In addition, I was trying to find a new job that would be closer to the area we were looking to buy in. Eric had started a new job, one that he really loved, but was turning out to be stressful - in a good way - but still stressful. It was a really dark time - for me, for our marriage, and for our family. We lost a good friend in the melee. Our marriage was held together with a piece of dental floss, much like Eric used to do to attach his Garmin 910 watch face on the band after he lost the first one to the depths of nasty Salem Pond during a race. Relief finally came when we bought a new house that we loved, moved into an amazing and supportive neighborhood and church ward, got sealed, and went on a week-long cruise to Cozumel, Belize, and Honduras. We didn’t sell our old house until February 2017, so that still provided some stress over the next few months, but in the end, it turned out great because we got a better return on the sale. We couldn’t have been more grateful to say goodbye to 2016, and prayed with all our energy that 2017 would be much better. It turned out to be like a Warhead sour candy. Almost too sour to bear at first, but once you finally make it past that, turns out really sweet.

My Journey to Ironman Part 4: I Got a Black Dog

Shortly after we got back from Cozumel, I became unemployed. I found out about it in September, worked until Oct 31st, had severance until Dec 31st. This impending job loss was the first domino in a series of “major life events” as an insurance company would say. I didn’t finish the Ironman. I was proposed to. I got remarried. We blended our family which meant we both doubled our family size. Two of the four kids are special needs which was a fairly new diagnosis so it was an adjustment for all of us. Eric moved in with us for a month after the wedding while we spent every spare minute trying to finish his small, 1500 sq ft house so the six of us could live there. Then we all moved into his place in Feb, without a finished second bathroom or a working kitchen. Also in Feb, Eric and I started new jobs. His was very stressful and required really long hours, making it almost impossible for him to train, and he was grumpy a lot. I discovered that while my new workplace and the people I worked with were great, along with amazing benefits, the job itself wasn’t a good fit for me. I developed depression - the black dog.

I was one of those people who naively thought that someone with depression could overcome it with enough hard work and/or spiritual help. This thought perpetuated a negative thought cycle that consumed me for most of the next three years. I couldn’t feel the same spiritual connection I’d taken for granted the previous few years. Depression convinced me I was unworthy of spiritual help. Because I hadn’t finished the Ironman, I thought I was too mentally weak to fight depression. I went through the motions of going to work, church, and taking care of our family. But I felt like I was almost constantly in a sludge-like blackness. It was a rare occasion when I felt any light or relief from the constant negative thoughts. I felt like I was in a small, dark box that I couldn’t break out of. Nothing good got in, and nothing bad left. I went to therapy. I tried medicine. Nothing helped. The only thing that brought any relief was exercising and racing. But even then, I had to be careful that I didn’t let it consume me or I’d become frustrated and down over what I thought was a lack in progress. Eric and I both reduced our training and racing in 2014. Then I knew I had to set a goal - if only to keep myself alive. My best friend had committed suicide in Feb 2011, and that thought was never far from my mind. I was scared of it. The darkness. The loss of power over my feelings and thoughts. I felt hopeless. It just never stopped. Take 10 steps back for mental toughness.

Rock Cliff 2015

In 2015, I made the goal to qualify for USA Triathlon Age Group Nationals, which would be held in Milwaukee Wisconsin. To do that, I had to place in the top 10% of my age group in a sprint or olympic distance race. If there were fewer than 10 people, I had to place first. It got be June, and I hadn’t qualified yet. I was running out of time. Depression was beating me down worse than ever. There was one race coming up - Rock Cliff. I hadn’t had problems when I’d done the sprint distance there in 2014. But, since I had so much riding on it in 2015, I was afraid something would go wrong. But, I signed up for the sprint, and headed up. I had to stop at a crude outhouse at Deer Creek on the way up - my stomach was going nuts! I told myself to just do my best and not worry about it. With my stomach up in arms, I didn’t have high hopes for a Nationals qualification. My kiddos came along, so they were a great support. The race couldn’t have gone better. When I crossed the finish line with a new PR, my son told me I was like the 6th woman across. I started getting a little excited… and sure enough, everyone in front of me was in a different USAT age group, placing me in 1st, and granting me that Nationals qualification! Yee haw! Huge step towards mental toughness!

Qualifying for Nationals put me on a mental high, the caliber of which I hadn’t felt since before I had depression. Around that time, I’d also had genetic testing done to determine which antidepressant might be most compatible with my body. I’d started the medication that was determined to be my “best match”. So I was feeling great. For about a week. Then on June 21st, Father’s Day, a trigger sent my emotions plunging. I’d prefer to not share all the details here, but I’d be more than willing to share in a private conversation. I will never forget how I felt that night though. I am describing it here to try and help people understand just how all-consuming and oppressing depression can be.

The darkness was crushing me. It felt like a dementor from Harry Potter was ready to suck the last bit of light from my soul. I felt powerless. And I was tired, so tired of the constant battles in my head. I just wanted it to stop. I really thought I might die. But I wanted to wake up the next morning with the depression all gone, like a bad headache. As the fog started lifting in the wee hours of the morning, I never wanted to feel that way again. But I was still scared. I had been doing SO good leading up to that day. I had no idea just how powerful a trigger could be. What if that happened to me again, and I couldn’t pull out of it? Not knowing what else to do, I got up as usual the next morning and went to work. I tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. I went about my meetings. I kept pushing forward, although the fog never completely lifted.

Fast forward to August 8th and USAT Nationals. I was in one of the last age group waves- which was brutal. Transition closed for everyone before the first wave, but the final groups were 1.5-2 hours after the first group. With around 200-ish people in each wave, they have to spread everyone out. The day was mostly overcast and humid. I didn’t mind since I’d grown up in NC. The excitement in the air plus the number of athletes - the best from around the country - reminded me of an Ironman event. It was such an honor to be there! My only goal was to enjoy every minute and try to get a new Olympic distance PR - sub-3 hours, which I’d never done in a non-river swim race. I had a fast swim, coming in a lot faster than I thought I would (remember when all I could do was blow bubbles 3 years before?). I averaged 18.6 mph on the bike, which was my fastest bike average ever in a race. Then I started out too fast on the run, making it hard for Eric and my dad to catch me to take pictures. I was just so excited to be there, I didn’t want to slow down. Then with about 2 miles left, I hit a wall. I had to stop and walk for a bit to catch my breath. Then I kept telling myself, no, you have to keep going, this is Nationals! I didn’t know what my total time was at that point, but Eric had been keeping track. When I got to the finish chute he started yelling at me to speed up so I could make it. Normally, I love sprinting down that shoot, and this race was no different. So, I gave it everything I had… and finished in 2:59:17! Take that depression! 1 step closer to mental toughness, although I was unhappy with my poor pacing on the run. I still had a 9:44 min/mile average which was good for me in an Oly distance tri.

Having hit my big goal for the year, I figured I’d just coast through the last few races of the season. At Camp Yuba in September, I was simply enjoying myself, knowing this was just for fun. When I got to the bike turnaround, I realized there were only 2 women in front of me! What?!  I’d never been in the overall top three before! I decided to turn up the heat a bit on the way back, and overtook the 2nd place woman. Unfortunately, that burned an extra match and she outran me. But I was completely surprised, amazed, and once again overjoyed crossing that finish line - in 3rd place overall in the sprint distance! Out of the top three, I had the 2nd fastest swim and the fastest bike split. Unfortunately, that cost me on the run. So again, even though I accomplished something awesome, I was disappointed in myself for not having a stronger run. Still, it was one step closer to mental toughness.

After that race, I felt a little lost. Eric had been encouraging me to sign up for an Ironman, but I just didn’t feel ready. We started talking more seriously about selling our house and moving to a bigger one to accommodate our family better. Eric’s job was becoming increasingly stressful, and I was still trying to figure out how to make the best of my job. A lot of our friends in Salt Lake Tri Club were signed up for the St. George 70.3, which would be in May 2016, and despite all the horror stories I’d heard of the unpredictable weather and hills for miles on the bike and run, I decided to go for it.