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...
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.
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