My Journey to Ironman Part 2: Don't Poop Your Pants!

Just before SVT ablation surgery

I survived a lot during my first full year of triathlon - and therefore learned a lot. I did everything I could to prepare for an Ironman. I got a coach, James Lawrence (AKA The Iron Cowboy). I signed up for lots of races. I swam. A lot. Did some biking and learned the advantages of training on a Kickr indoors. I also learned that while I preferred running outside, it was often better to run on a treadmill for longer runs (fervently chanting “don’t poop your pants” became commonplace. I once had the pleasure of not making it home in time - icky.). I learned more about nutrition and tried to apply what I learned, although I struggled to figure out how to fuel myself on longer rides. I went to boot camp classes. I had SVT heart ablation surgery in April 2013 which helped my heart stop taking off like a race horse at random times (but even today, my heart rate is faster than most people of my ability and I can't do caffeine - especially race nutrition, which many athletes do).

In February 2013, I did my first Ragnar - Del Sol in Arizona. Eric had done like a million of them, so I looked up to him a lot. I was doing pretty good until my 3rd and final leg. Eric spun and dipped me for a picture-perfect kiss before I headed out. It was a non-supported 6 mile run. Somewhere along the way, I got lost. The signs reminded me of the genie’s directions before taking off on the flying carpet in Aladdin. And I was starting to hurt. When I finally found the course again, I realized I‘d added 2 miles - and quite a bit of time - to my run. I wanted to quit because of the pain. I thought of asking someone from my van to finish my leg. But, I had no cell phone. I was alone. Once I realized there was no one to help me, I resolved to just keep going, even though it hurt. Just keep running, just keeping walking… When I finally saw the exchange, the water works started back up. Everyone in my van was panicking because I was over an hour past my ETA. They hadn’t known where I was or if I was okay. When I passed off the bracelet, Eric grabbed me in a bear hug, all choked up (although he denies it today, lol), saying he’d been so worried about me and was relieved I was okay. I was proud of myself for not quitting that day. 1 step towards mental toughness.

I attempted Boise 70.3 (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, half marathon - 13.1 mile run) June 8th but got pulled out of the water. The combination of going from being hot on the beach to cold in the water, the waves getting kicked up by the wind, and my recent heart surgery was a little too much and I spent some time in the medical tent. I was mostly bummed about missing out on a beautiful run course which I’d been looking forward to. My confidence took a huge hit and I experienced my first major episode of post-race blues (yes, this really is a thing). It took a couple of months for me to regain some of my lost confidence. 2 steps back from mental toughness.

My first olympic distance (1500 meter swim, 25 mile bike, 10k or 6.2 mile run) was at Rock Cliff only three weeks after Boise. Still upset over not finishing, the super-cold water in Jordanelle reservoir made my anxiety skyrocket. Half way into the first lap, I was thinking of quitting. I had to hold onto the support kayaks a couple of times to catch my breath. As I neared the end of the first lap, I had every intention of going up to the beach to quit. But then, for some reason something in my head clicked. I put my face in the water and just swam. I swam that second loop without stopping. It was more than twice as fast as my first lap. Finally coming out of the water - 50 minutes after I started, was another win for me. I was the last olympic distance swimmer out, and almost all of the sprint distance athletes (who had started after us) had finished. But I was so happy to have made it. The trouble wasn’t over, however, as I got a flat tire on the bike - about 3 miles away from T2. I’d passed only one person since I had been so slow in the water. They passed me while I was trying to change my tire. By that time, some of the sprinters were done and heading back to their cars, and one guy stopped to help me. Thank goodness, because I - and everyone else - have always had trouble changing my 650 tires. They are such a pain! My next bike will have 700s! I finally made it into T2, once again dead last. I had to call out to people enjoying the Sprint distance awards ceremony to move so I could get into transition and head out on the run - I was so embarrassed! I felt discouraged at being the last one. But, I headed out anyway. Thankfully, running was still my favorite part and since there was quite a bit of trail running on this course, I managed to slip into my happy place. I passed four people during those six miles so I wouldn’t be last overall. I overcame a lot that day. 3 steps towards mental toughness.

My next big hurdle was the marathon. I’d run two half marathons in fall 2012 and set a PR at the Provo City half marathon May 8, 2013 at a 2:04. Then the Ogden marathon May 18th was cold, wet, and snowy/rainy/slushy. That was the most miserable 5 hours, 47 minutes, 36 seconds I’d ever experienced. By the time St. George Marathon rolled around in October, I was ready! I’d trained more and knew the weather was going to be nicer. I was confident I could smash the 5:47 time. At that point, I hadn’t yet learned how a cold race start affected my body or how to mitigate the effects. The start was one of the coldest they’d had in years. I didn’t warm up until almost halfway through the race, and I was in pain. Then, at mile 17, I felt like my left knee was going to pop right out of my leg. I didn’t know much about IT bands then, but mine was trashed! The pain was so bad, I had to walk from that point on. My finish time was 6:00:32. This was really a half step back. I was disappointed with my performance, and not getting a PR, but I gained some toughness walking through that intense pain and disappointment to the finish line. But I really had no desire to do a marathon again, and was worried how I’d make it through the marathon in Cozumel, which was then only 2 months away.