IM Coeur d'Alene 2021, a.k.a. IM Hades Redux

It's taken me a long time to gain enough perspective on this race to be able to write about it in a productive manner. Even two weeks out from race day, I was still disappointed in my performance in a way that completely ignored its context and failed to see where I had been strong and brave and unwaveringly focused on the finish line. I always say that racing is where we find out what we're made of - that's literally the title of this blog - and I think that might've been especially true for this race.

FUIMTX Redemption Day

I was six weeks out from IMTX20 when it got canceled. There were approximately zero people who didn’t see this coming, given that the race got canceled on March 13, 2020, which my household officially considers to be Day 1 of the Global Pandemic. The only part of the cancellation that made me cranky was the timing - the email came in 15 minutes after I finished a 5-1/2 hour indoor bike and a 50 minute run off the bike. I mean, honestly, FML.

Everesting: Shut Up, Legs

I’ll be honest, I don’t really want to be writing this race report. Despite the fact that I logged the biggest ride of my career by far, I did not complete the Everesting challenge and I am having a hard time seeing the “win” in my day. I climbed 20,000 feet on my bike, but I can’t manage to celebrate that.

So as Vizzini said, when a job goes wrong, you go back to the beginning.

That’s a Horrible Idea … What Time?

I was mentally drafting a blog post last week about how training these days can still have purpose. I was going to discuss how you can use this time as an opportunity (I worked on increasing my run cadence and actually running in my endurance heart rate zone, which was absolute torture until suddenly it wasn’t) and how a shift in training hours with pools and gyms closed can lead to silver linings (hello surprise 6% bump in FTP!). But then on Tuesday or maybe Wednesday I started seeing posts in the Ironman Texas 2020 Facebook group about how right now we were supposed to be packing our bags and getting on a plane… but we weren’t.

IM 70.3 Indian Wells: Choice. Opportunity. Sheer Force of Will.

There was a lot about the lead up to this race that was different. For starters, I signed up less than 2 months before the race date. I'm a huge plan-way-the-f&ck-ahead kind of person, so this was a massive first. I hadn't even considered the race until a teammate suggested the idea after masters swim. For me, this falls under the heading of "spontaneity" (my husband says I'm really spontaneous, as long as I have at least a week's notice). So that was all a little different.

IM Boulder 2019: F&%#$ck Me

It took me a long time to get my head around what happened at this race. In the days immediately following, I had a few different synopses floating around in my head:

- A solid swim and a great bike but a shitty run actually means you fucked up your race execution.
- I had no business thinking I could bike like that given how relatively low my fitness was for this race.
- I’m chasing a time that I’m not actually capable of achieving, and I should just quit cuz it will never happen.
- Given that I don’t have my usual elaborate narrative to let myself off the hook for my performance, maybe the reality is that I just suck.

Four entire days later, after listening and thinking and talking to Coach, I finally had an explanation for my race that didn’t leave me practically in tears. And now I know exactly what it means to bonk. Because bonk I did, and on a pretty epic level.

IM 70.3 Oceanside: Swim. Don’t Die On The Bike. Run.

That was the short version of my race plan for IM 70.3 Oceanside. Yes, I wrote a full, detailed race plan the week before the race. Yes, I did review it the night before the race, mostly to remind myself of the strategies I wanted to use if (when) it got tough on the run. I knew my watts for the bike and paces for the run, and my fueling plan. But come race morning, it really came down to: Swim. Don’t Die On The Bike. Run.

IM 70.3 Oceanside 2018 Race Report

I sent the following email to Coach the Monday before race day:

Just thought I’d let you know that I’m losing my shit to the point of (not actually) thinking that I just shouldn’t come to the race. I don’t really mean it, but it is definitely circling through my batshit crazy brain. Normally I don’t get cold feet till 12-24 hours before the start, so this is super fun for me.


- I still have a cold and my sinuses seem hell bent on staying clogged up.
- I have shit weather karma and so it is clearly going to rain.
- The water is stupid cold and I am going to freeze.
- I hate disassembling and reassembling my bike and the wheels don’t fit well in the case and TSA is definitely going to break something.
- I am never going to be able to hold my watts and it’s going to take me forever to finish the bike and my time will suck and so there’s no point in showing up.

Boulder 70.3 2017 Race Report

I had originally planned my 2017 season as IM 70.3 Texas + IM Boulder and then done. Well, actually then Triple Bypass - a 120-mile ride with 10k of elevation gain - then done. My 2016 season had been long, as in 11 months long, and I had therefore rolled pretty much right into my 2017 season and I knew after that I’d need some serious off-season. But I also had kept in the back of my mind that IM 70.3 Boulder was in August, and I could probably hold my Ironman fitness long enough to pull that off, especially with the Triple Bypass in between. I figured that I could decide a few weeks beforehand and jump in if I felt like it. But then in May, a month or so before IM Boulder, I heard there were only 100 spots left in IM 70.3 Boulder. And I have major sell-out paranoia. So I pulled the trigger.

IM Boulder 2017 Race Report

I typically write up these race reports because my race has been an amazing/disastrous/epic/traumatic experience and I use the process of writing to sort through all the details and get my head around my day. This time, though, I don't have a million race details to revisit or all kinds of ridiculous circumstances to complain about. I hadn't even given a thought to a race report until Joel mentioned it. But once he did, I started thinking about what I would write, and I realized I had some stuff to sort through after all. So Joel, thanks and this one's for you - and my apologies about the (relative) lack of f-bombs.

IM Boulder 2017 Pre-Race Report

I've never written a pre-race report before. I've also never been this excited to race, and I want to capture all the awesomeness of that feeling while I still have it, before whatever does or doesn't happen tomorrow clouds my memory of the pre-race glow.

Up through last week, I was a bit of a wreck. My brain had been gone, and I mean GONE, for a solid three weeks. And my legs had felt like absolute crap for about two weeks, which was concerning. I tell all of my athletes that "during taper, you're going to feel worse before you feel better - and that's ok!" Of course when it happens to me, I turn into a basket case and start to question all of my race effort targets and race day goals.

IMTX 70.3 2017 Race Report

A few weeks prior to the race, I was pretty excited. I was swimming well, running well, and biking stronger than I've been in any prior race season. I had recently done some physio testing at CU Sports Medicine and Performance Center, and Jared had set my 70.3 race target a whopping 10 watts higher than last year. Combine all that with a flat and fast course in Galveston, and I was ready to finally break through my PR from way back in 2013.

IMAZ 2017 Race Report (A.K.A., A Comedy of Errors)

As I was writing up a race report this past spring, I was lamenting the fact that all my recent races brought the term “shit storm” to mind. I really wanted a race experience that was a little more positive. I finally got one - which is awesome! - but it turns out the race reports aren’t nearly entertaining when you have a good day. With that in mind, here goes:

My Pre-Race Mental State

I was unnervingly positive going into this race. My training had been rock solid. Other than a single-day blip due to weird lower leg pain (which was quickly addressed by my new favorite PT guy), I’d gotten all of my training in since the summer of just-hold-on-to-as-much-fitness-as-you-can-till-the-kids-go-back-to-school. A few of my long rides and runs had been a struggle, but most of them were really strong. And I hadn’t been forced inside for a single workout due to weather, which was a flat out miracle given that Mother Nature has been bitch-slapping me around for years.

106 West 2016 Half-Distance Race Report

"It Won't Be Pretty, But It Will Be Beautiful"

(completely logical official tagline of a race that takes place in the Rockies, 9000 feet above sea level)

106 West was my 8th half-Ironman distance race, and by far the one I approached the most casually. I didn't write up a race plan. I didn't visualize a moment of the race beforehand. I didn't do any course-specific training. I had some vague effort-level targets for the race but really wasn't too focused on my performance.

Boulder 70.3 2016 Race Report

It would be really, really nice to sit down to write a race report without the words "brutal" and "total shit show" immediately coming to mind.

To start with, I should explain that I am weather-cursed when it comes to long-course triathlon. Here is my proof:

1. Eagleman 70.3, June 2012: 90+ degrees with 90+ humidity, a "code orange" day
2. Rev3 Williamsburg 70.3, June 2013: OK, this was probably only in the 80s and there was actually pretty decent cloud cover for 2/3rds of the run
3. Boulder 70.3, August 2013: 90 degrees and total sun
4. Raleigh 70.3, June 2014: low 80s and mostly sunny, this one was a lot better than expected
5. St George 70.3, May 2015: 90+ degrees and total sun
6. IM Couer d'Alene, June 2015: 105 degrees, I am totally not kidding - hottest it's been in CDA in 100 years and thirty degrees above average for June
7. St George 70.3, May 2016: upper 40s/low 50s with intermittent rain and apparently even a little hail; I probably should've been grateful that it wasn't hot but seriously
8. Boulder 70.3, June 2016: 95 degrees and not a cloud to be found anywhere

So, you have now been fairly warned, don't ever, ever sign up for a race with me if good weather is something you care about, even a little bit.

St George 70.3 2016 Race Report

THE MORNING

Starting the night before I'd had some reluctance about this race. Maybe it was the weather: the forecast was low 50s and cloudy in the morning, low 60s by the time I was running. Maybe it was the fact the I know the course, and I know that no matter how well you pace it the run is gonna hurt. Maybe it was just that I didn't have someone to meet up with and hang out with before the race started. Whatever the reason, I took my time getting out of bed, grabbing my stuff and heading into town. I did notice as I walked to my car at the hotel and again as I was boarding the shuttle bus to T1 that it was actually a bit warmer that morning than I'd been expecting, which was awesome.

IMCdA 2015, a.k.a. Ironman Hades

THE BIG PICTURE

This part is based on hearsay, anecdotal evidence, and conjecture, but I believe paints a pretty good overall picture of the the day.

We knew going in that the forecasted high temp was 103. We knew to hydrate, increase our sodium, slow down our pace, and watch our core temp. I knew this. I had a plan for this. I also had raced in hot temps (Eagleman 2012 with 96 degree temps and very high humidity) and new that I had done ok. I knew that riding in the heat didn't usually bother me, and I knew what worked to help me survive the run.

Boulder 70.3 2013 Race Report

Going in, it felt a lot different from other races. I didn't have my usual set of tri girls around, so there wasn't all the pre-race chat that usually helps me over-analyze and over-think the race. I felt less focused, and distracted, but also a less nervous. I remember wondering if this would be a good thing or a bad thing.

First Tri: Kinetic Sprint, May 2010

From the beginning, I was obsessed. This probably didn’t come as a big surprise to anyone who knows me: I love to have a project, and when I do my ability to focus on it is pretty intense. This seemed to make me well suited to the triathlon world, or at least in good company.

I started running when I was a freshman in college and joined the women’s rugby team. My first three mile run to the practice field alongside ex-varsity soccer players was painful, to say the least. I barely made it. By the time I graduated though I was a decent runner, and completed the New York Marathon a year and a half later in just under four and a half hours.