POSER?

DISCLAIMER: What you are about to read is not really how I feel all the time.  What follows is a representation of a disease called jealousy...a symptom of poor self-esteem.  And not just mine.  You could take the word triathlete and replace it with runner, yogini, businessperson, parent, spouse.  We each have demons, and sometimes they pop their heads up when you least expect them.  What I believe is that I am a dedicated triathlete.  I will follow my own path, and do what I think is right for me.  What follows is not a pity-party, just observations about how we can fall victim to our own perceived short-comings...emphasis on the word "perceived".  I believe I am the best triathlete I can be, and most days, that's all that matters.

This season, I followed a couple of Ironman Facebook pages.  One is called, "you know you are an Ironman when..." and the other is the Ironman Coeur d'Alene training group.  Both offer sound advice that one may or may not take into consideration for their own journey.  There are many opinions on nutrition and hydration, recovery options and gear reviews.  Overall it's a great resource for athletes of every level, and I've gotten a lot of good information from these groups, as well as a few laughs.

However one thing became very clear as I continued my voyage to 140.6.  There are some hard core triathletes out there.  I learned something else, too.  I am not one of them.  For every one of you that has complimented me on my dedication to this sport (first of all thank you), there are people out there who are so over the top for triathlon, they are already up the next hill.  I mean this literally, and as a metaphor.  These are the folks to crunch more data per workout than I will in a whole season.  They custom order their nutrition and know their way around their bikes.

Jealousy is a terrible companion, and nowhere in my life have I felt its presence more than when I look at other triathletes.  We all have our own methods and our own ways of doing things, but when I get close to other athletes, my demons of poor self-esteem come niggling back. I have to wonder if I'm just not enough...not __________ enough: fill in the blank (skinny, fast, fit, strong). I don't notice all the time, but when I'm out on the bike or running for hours at a time, I notice.  I notice when someone passes me up a hill (which happens a lot).  I notice when I see someone running toward me on the path and she looks more like she's flying than running.  I notice at the pool...maybe my shoulders could be stronger, or I try to out swim the guy in the lane next to me.  I notice when someone has the audacity to look like they are enjoying themselves when running in 90 degree weather.

Bike envy is the worst.  While Gary is a great bike and has served me well, he is an entry-level Time Trial bike.  I added a few components to make him fit better, but there are few bells and whistles.  When I go to race expos or set my bike up on transition, bike envy is the first thing that hits me.  I feel like I brought my tricycle.  It's made a bit worse by the pictures on the aforementioned Facebook pages that make me sometimes want to hide my little bike.  It just feels like I don't belong next to someone's $6000 Shiv with Razr wheels and custom solid carbon fiber frame.  And it's likely that this is their "race only" bike.  A lot of REAL triathletes have at least two bikes.  One road bike on which they do the bulk of their training, and their TT bike that they have to get special permission from the Smithsonian to use.  I can barely afford to keep one bike...and he's lucky he's not wearing concrete shoes.

Training is another way in which I differ.  Although I followed my coach's plan almost to the letter, I did one 100 mile ride.  I slogged through hot, long runs, and every minute of it sucked after a while.  When I fire up my computer and check the CDA training page, for every one of me who is complaining about the heat and/or duration of their runs, there is another who can't wait to get out for their 3rd century ride of the season, or pile on hours of brick runs.

And time goals.  Going into this season, I had an idea of how long it would take me to finish.  I'm not even going to recap those, because frankly, it doesn't matter.  The one thing I have no control over will make any time goals practically unattainable.  The weather is going to be in the mid-to upper 90s on race day.  Finishing is the only goal I care about (finishing without a trip to the medical tent is even better), and I'm throwing out all other time goals.  I don't know, does that lessen my credibility as a triathlete?

Then there's the "one and done" philosophy.  I have this misperception that anyone who subscribes to the idea of doing one full distance race and calling it quits isn't really a "serious" triathlete.  Unfortunately, there are actually people out there who believe that.  I have a few choice four letter words for those people.  Look, I get it.  The IM community will tell me up and down that once I cross that finish line, I'll want to do another one.  And another after that...and after that.  I can tell you right now, that if I cross that finish line, yes.  I may want to cross another IM finish line.  Sure!  Sounds like fun!!  Crossing the finish line is not the issue.  It's the 5 months of training before that I'm not crazy about.  So much of my life has been put on hold to get this done.  I miss my crazy, diverse life, and giving all that up for a second IM finish is not important to me.  Sorry, not sorry.  

I won't say never.  Because maybe I'll come to a point in my life when it makes sense to do another Ironman, but frankly, I cannot come up with what that would look like.  I just want to get this one done and go back to enjoying the training.  I want to enjoy races like Run Disney, easy sprint and Olympic triathlons, and maybe another 70.3 or two next year.  But another full distance?  Not feeling it.

My bike is average.  My riding is middle of the pack.  I'm a terrible climber.  I freak out when I go over 30 miles per hour downhill.  I am a slow runner.  I walk more than I run.  I despise running after 10 a.m.  I carry a few extra pounds, drink a glass of wine on occasion and eat ice cream after my really long days.  I don't have $20,000 worth of bikes and cycling gear.  I don't have an M-Dot tattoo, and I may not get one.  I don't like spending hundreds of dollars a month on coaching, massages, race nutrition and replacement gear.  I don't want to train for 5 months at the expense of singing in church, going out to movies, playing with my kid, quilting, or visiting my family.

Because of all of this, some may see me as a poser.  A wannabe.  Maybe I am.  But since my opinion is the only one that matters, I don't think so.  I'm as ready as I'm going to get, and I'm not looking back on this training season wondering if I've done enough.  I plan on running my race, my pace.  I will get passed repeatedly, likely even lapped.  I don't care.  In 9 days, I will hear someone call out "Heather Jergensen, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN."  And I will scream, cry, jump for joy, and collapse in a heap.  Because in that moment, I won't be pretending.  It will all be real.

TAPER -- THE BLESSING AND THE CURSE

It's finally here!  The long awaited taper.  This is the time when I get to drop much of the training volume and intensity while my body repairs itself.  This is the time when my muscles absorb what they've learned in the last 5 months and get ready for June 28th.  This is also the time when I go out of my mind with race-day weather obsession, fear of not actually being ready, and boredom.

This time through the taper period is different.  I'm chalking it up in part to the distances I've covered, but also that maybe I trained well.  I am very surprised by my lack of motivation to get out for even short workouts.  I'm winded going up the stairs.  My quads scream at me out of fatigue, because they are very comfortable on the couch, thank you very much.  I've lost quite a bit of my appetite, which for a while, made no sense.

Here's some perspective, though.  Since I began training with my coach in mid-January, I have ridden over 1800 miles, run over 410 miles, and swam almost 60 miles.  Even typing that, I have to shake my head in wonder.  The last 6 weeks, I have recorded progressively longer bike rides than I have ever completed.  One week I hit 65, then 70, 80, 90, then finally, my first Century+ at 101.  My training volume each week was over 13 hours on the "recovery" weeks and over 19 on my hardest weeks.

So it goes without saying, I suppose, that my first week of taper is a little rough.  I simply can't get enough sleep, and I feel constantly dehydrated.  Evidently, though, this is normal.  If you are training right, the first week into taper SHOULD feel like this.  Imagine my relief, because frankly, I thought I broke myself.

For me, the hard part is getting in some of these workouts now that my son is on summer break.  Between his swim team, a waterpark visit and some significant heat followed by significant rain, I've had to juggle more of my training schedule than I have all season.  And that right there, makes me glad that I dropped out of an August race a year ago.

Looking ahead, I'm 15 days out from Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  Next week, my taper gets better with further reduced volume and supposedly a bump in energy, which means I might have some extra brain power to catch up on the blog.  I have 60 miles left to ride before I drop Gary off at the bike shop to ship him to Idaho.  There is an open water race I'll do next Saturday, and it may be my only chance to get in a lake swim before the Big Day (you should see my new 2XU wetsuit though...it's really fast).

So am I ready?  Well, if I'm not, there is nothing I can do about it now.  What's done is done, and here is what I've learned.  The physical challenge of training for a 140.6 mile race is nothing to sneeze at, but my mental toughness is the muscle that has grown the most.  There were days I hated my bike, didn't want to lace up my kicks, and not even a swim workout sounded appealing.  But I went, sometimes griping all the way, sometimes enjoying the work.  But every time, I got stronger, just because I went.  I looked only at one workout at a time.  I stayed in the moment, and didn't look ahead to the next 6 mile run loop.  My mantra with every breath was "one mile at a time."  And I did it.  I got through this training season.  I got through lots of rain, followed by lots of heat.  I feel good about the season, and feel ready enough to finish in 16:59:59.

Today, I have friends who are participating in IMBoulder 70.3, and I'm excited for them.  I wish them well, and will cheer them from afar (because somehow I have to get in a 16 mile run myself).  I'm glad I'm not doing that race this year, but hope to do it next year.  All the best to you, Casey, Jim and Julie -- enjoy the day!

BRAIN. DOESN'T. WORK.

As it's been almost two months since my last post (and I would have liked to have made this a weekly thing), I thought I would update you on my journey.  I haven't quit, but in short, I've thought about it.

It's an early Spring Saturday morning, and I'm recovering from yesterday's 3 hour hilly ride, my coffee and my laptop nearby, girding myself for a 2 hour run.  The last two months have been rough, with the last ten days being downright brutal.  Not because of the aforementioned workouts of the past couple of days, but rather because of a lot of short intense training sessions.

At first, Captain Kirk's training plan gave me a pass on my swims. "Try to do them, but if you have to miss a workout, skip a swim."  Okay, so my philosophy became that my swims were a reward for good behavior.  That good behavior was that I got on the bike or ran that day.  Although my training weeks have averaged 10 hours, it's the intensity for which I was not prepared.

Each workout had a strict purpose: whether it was determining Threshold Rates, T-paces, or max heart rates, every session required a short warm up followed by repeated intervals of one type or another.  My swims included longer and longer intervals at faster and faster paces.  My rides on the trainer focused on Heart Rate, speed intervals, and Functional Threshold Power (FTP is basically how fast can I go for how long without my heart exploding).  My runs were long, All Out intervals, with many, many miles of long runs.

All of this isn't so bad if I have an "easy_______" sprinkled into the plan here and there.  But they were almost nowhere to be found.  In the last 8 weeks, the short, easy workouts can be counted on one hand with fingers left over.

What this means is that not only am I taxing myself physically, which is of course expected, but my mind is constantly counting something.  Whether it's laps in the pool, sets of speed intervals, or minutes until my recovery period, my brain is focused solely on the workout, my legs, my lungs and anything and everything that hurt.

Yes, I am training for a big event.  But the problem I'm having is that nowhere in my schedule is there time for a meditative, relaxing run.  As I've stated before, running is my recharge, but only if I get to process my world in the rhythm.  I just need to get out the door and hit cruise control.  If I have to "embrace the suck," every single time, then it becomes not fun.

So the result is this:  I am as tired physically as anyone would expect.  That's a given.  But the mental and emotional toll this is having on me?  I'm simply not prepared for it.  After weeks of all the physical exertion and the mental juggling, I am worthless to the point of being reduced to a blubbering mass of tears.  I am right about where I was when I made the decision to drop out of IM Boulder.  With every breath, my only thought is, "I'm so tired."  And I'm really tired of that being my only thought.

It came to a head when I took my dog to the vet, and the words "cancer" were uttered.  When I came home, I looked at my training plan, saw a 90 minute high-cadence ride (make my feet move faster and faster), and I said..."Nope."  All I wanted to do was lay down and cry.  So I did.  I skipped the workout, which is not going to make or break crossing an IM finish line.

My coach and I had a conversation about how mentally drained I had become, and if this is normal.  The Captain actually told me something very encouraging.  Kirk said, "if you weren't feeling like this, I would be afraid that you weren't working hard enough.  This is the toughest part of the training, in addition to the last few weeks before the taper.  You are exactly where you need to be as we get ready for the next phase."  Yes, this actually IS encouraging.  It means I'm actually doing this right...somehow.

Let's face it.  I'm not injured, I'm eating right and I've gained about 10 pound of muscle...mostly in my quads.  I have to wear my fat pants, because my strong gams won't fit into my skinny jeans.  However, knowing that I'm on the right track and this mental fatigue is to be expected makes me feel a bit better.

So I embrace the suck.  I make peace with the fact that although it's rough, it will get a bit easier mentally.  I move on and mix it up a bit but getting my bike off the trainer, find a new running route, or mix up my pool sessions by just going at a different time of day.

No, I haven't quit.  And I'm not going to.  The next phase of training is less intensity, but longer hours.  I'm fine with that (she says before she's even seen the schedule).  But in the meantime, I have a dive vacation, where Captain Kirk has ordered me to not work out at all.  Let myself recover, take in a spiritual recharge, and come back fired up for the last 14 weeks of training.

Now where are my shoes?

SECOND CHANCES

Sometimes we get second chances.  Sometimes we are allowed to make up for past mistakes and try again having learned from those mistakes.

18 months ago, when I signed up for Ironman Boulder, I made some mistakes.

First mistake was, I signed up for the wrong race.  Those of you following this blog may remember I had lots of choices and weighed all the pros and cons.  Ironman British Columbia, Wisconsin, Arizona, and Coeur d'Alene (Idaho) were all on my list until they opened a Boulder event which would take place in early August.  I thought I could manage the training during the hot summer months and be a stay-at-home single mom at the same time.  I was wrong.  After having signed up, I dropped out halfway through my training.  Doing so shattered my confidence.  On my bad days, I felt like a quitter.  On my good days, I knew I had made the right decision for me and for my son.  But I spent the next several months thinking that and Ironman finish is still sitting out there teasing me, calling me...

Another mistake I made was not hiring a coach.  I have great training partners.  Their support and enthusiasm got me through some tough workouts, but I needed a bit more accountability than that.  Although I was following a plan through the training peaks website, a one-size-fits-all prescription for crossing a finish line wasn't cutting it.  The plan did not provide coach support designed to meet my needs, strengths and weaknesses.

Third mistake: I severely underestimated the time commitment.  I spent just as much time training as I did stressing out about getting in said training.  The hours on the bike alone overwhelmed me, and I simply could not get my training to comply with my circumstances.  My training would fall apart if I had a long ride planned and then it snowed, or my son had to stay home with the flu.  The biggest training days seemed to fall victim to life happening, and I had no contingency.

I could go on and on about the mistakes I made...overtraining too early in the season, overcommitting to other things, being over-confident...the bottom line is that I had myself a huge slice of humble pie back in May.  I curled up in my own little world, felt sorry for myself for a bit, mad at myself for a long time, and just fed up with how I could have made such mistakes.  So, I took a couple of steps back.  I re-evaluated not just my athletic goals, but many others goals and dreams as well, and I came up with a solution.  First things first...Get 'er done.  Just go do an Ironman, and get it over with -- but do it better this time.  In 10 years, it's unlikely I'll be physically capable, so I want to do this while I still can.

It took months to warm up to this idea.  Part of me wanted it.  It was out there waiting for me, and I just had to follow the call.  But when I started to get comfortable with committing to a race, I would get so far as the IM web page, then balk. Just freeze, talk myself out of it.  This happened repeatedly for weeks.  I was paralyzed and couldn't commit.  I had all the arguments for signing up.  "You know you are going to do this."  "Register before it sells out."  "This is the right race."  I couldn't do it.

At one point, I finally asked myself, "what is my problem?!"  My own answer surprised me.  I was terrified.  What if I can't actually do it?  What if I build it all up again, and drop out...quit...again?  What if I don't really have what it takes to finish an Ironman season?  I realized that my fear of failure...or at least feeling like I had failed was keeping me from making that leap.  I get it... in my athletic life, I am not a failure.  I do get that.  But, sometimes the mean voices make me forget all I have accomplished so far.  Once I figured out how to shut those voices up, the idea of signing a registration form didn't seem so scary.

So I finally sat down and filled out page after page of registration information and I think somewhere along the line I signed over my first grandchild to the Ironman corporation, but I can't be sure.  But it happened.

So did I learn from my mistakes?

Well, this time, the race is in Idaho at the end of June (not Boulder in August).  All the hard training will be done before school is out and the weather gets too hot.  Also, Coeur d'Alene is beautiful.  A fellow athlete put it to me this way, "even if you have the worst race day ever, the scenery might just be enough to distract you from that."

This time I did hire a coach.  I need someone who will write a prescription for me: a competitive swimmer who loves to run and hates to ride.  I need a guide to help me adequately train for my weaknesses (read: biking) and keep me from over-training my strengths.  Enter Coach Kirk Blackmon.  I call him "Captain Kirk."  I get my orders from Captain Kirk. There are so many fun things I can do with that!  I have live access to him through e-mail (sub-space), and a monthly phone call (hailing frequencies open...yeah, okay that's enough of that for now), and my training schedule, designed by my coach takes my athletic level and circumstances into consideration.

Lastly, the time commitment hasn't changed.  But there are things I know I will have to let go this season.  Probably won't ski much this year, and any traveling I do will include serious running miles, but the race date is already working in my favor, and I have a coach to help me through when I'm feeling overwhelmed.  I've had to re-tool my budget for a few months, but manageably so as long as I am smart about where my money goes.

So it's done.  Mark your calendars for Sunday, June 28th, 2015.  I will be in Coeur d'Alene.  Flights and hotels are booked.  I'm going.  It's happening this time.

I do not feel the excitement and anticipation around this event as I did when I signed up for Boulder.  In fact, I'm quite apprehensive and cautious, and that is probably a good thing.  My tangle with my own limitations and humility put all of this in perspective.  Ironman is not a given, but I have a second chance at my first attempt.  It's not often we get a "do-over" and I don't want to blow this one.

Wish me luck.

BACK TO SCHOOL

This morning, while I sit here with my coffee and bleary eyes, I am determined to write out this blog post on which I've ruminated for weeks.  It seems the only time I have to "draft" anything is when I'm covering road or trail miles.  Some of my more brilliant thoughts are lying on the trail between Peoria Road and I-225.

We are now 6 weeks into school and 2 weeks from the Rock and Roll Half Marathon here in Denver. (Think announce voice, here), Last time, on "Journey to Ironman," Heather is training for two events simultaneously.  Will she successfully navigate the beginning of school AND two races?

Well, folks, the Boulder Sunset Triathlon didn't happen for me.  I was prepared and excited for it, but single motherhood being the way it was, I chose to spend time with my son that day rather than try to find a babysitter.  My training in this instance wasn't the issue.  It was my assumptions about my circumstances that were.  I thought I would have someone to watch Soren, but I was wrong.  At the last minute on Labor Day weekend, there were no babysitters to be found.  Confession time: I would rather have a root canal than call for childcare.  Not that I dislike my sitters...I just despise making a bunch of phone calls.  Anyway, long story short, I wound up having trained myself back into triathlon shape after dropping out of IMBoulder.  It was just the kick start I needed to shrug that decision off once and for all and begin to look forward.  In the end, I'm glad I didn't go.  Although I missed out on cheering and supporting my awesome teammates (Dean, Ellen, Rose, Dan...and I'm sure I'm forgetting more, sorry!), I had the perfect day with the kiddo.  Soren and I went to the zoo, took the dogs for a walk, and generally enjoyed a lazy summer day.  Boulder Sunset next year maybe.

Not to beat a dead horse about the triathlon, but 2014 will pass without a triathlon finish.  This is unsettling.  However, by the end of this year, I will have logged (hopefully) a marathon and a half of race miles -- two events in the same series, which qualifies me for a little extra bling (more on that in a later post, I hope).  Not bad.

So the whole thing about getting back to school...I love spending summers with Soren.  I am so blessed to be home with him and go wherever the wind blows.  Summer vacation and it's lack of structure is fun for a while.  But after a few weeks, I need structure and routine.  I think Soren needed it, too.  We were both bouncing off the walls for school to start!  It isn't that I needed to ship Soren off to first grade as much as I just needing a somewhat predictable schedule.  I needed to know when I was going to get my runs in, and plan my days accordingly.

If you read one of my earlier posts, you will remember that I had a very hard time sending Soren to Kindergarten.  Tears, cleaning, and too much TV marked the first 4 months of the school year...Soren was fine, though.

This year, however, I was ready for school.  I had certain chores I would do on certain days to break up the boredom and keep myself busy.  Obviously, so far so good, since I have only now gotten around to writing this.  I also needed the structure so I knew when I could train!  Fitting in a run or a bike ride was a challenge at the end of the summer.  Once school started, I knew I'd have lots of time!

On my end, I am still training for the Half marathon.  My goal is to finish with a personal best.  I'm running 3-4 days a week, between 25 and 30 miles over the week.  I'm also doing some light training on the bike and in the pool, which keeps me from getting bored.  Along with the Train Like A Mother "Own It!" run plan, I'm following a triathlon off season regimen with an eye toward next summer.  No decisions have been made about my "A" races, but I have a couple of ideas...let's just say Ironman Boulder is not one of them.

Soren is kicking butt in First Grade.  So we've signed up for tennis, piano, Cub Scouts, swim, and run club.  Do you think he's over committed?  Actually, if that's all we had going on, that would be okay.  But add to this church twice a week and my dive shop schedule, it's half a bite more than we can chew.  I wouldn't say we ARE overcommitted, but I can see it from here.

All that being said, at least I know when we are supposed to be where.  We have enough down time in the midst of all of this that we can stop long enough to breathe.  I'm volunteering at school...something that is new to me, but when you hear the capacity you will not be surprised.  Our school offers a "100 mile Club'" which promotes healthy lifestyles and activity in kids.  Over the course of the school year, kids can accumulate miles and earn prizes along the way.  If they reach 100 miles by the end of the year, they get a medal.  Soren is, of course, participating, but I'm offering my time to help kids keep track of their miles.  Please don't ask me to serve on the PTA, or be a room parent.  It's not my strength.  Let me help out with something that sparks my interest.  So what I'm saying here, is that once I find my niche, I'll stick with it.

And of course here at the beginning of October, the weather is cooling off.  This is my favorite run season.  I don't have to beat the sun out of bed to get in a good run.  The sun comes up, I get Soren to school, and by the time my feet hit the pavement the brisk air fuels my legs to work just a bit harder.  Couple that with the last three months of speed training, and my runs are finished in record time.

So now I'm on my three week taper for Rock and Roll.  I did my last double digit run yesterday in preparation for 13.1 miles on October 19th.  Speed work is done for the most part, and starting on the 20th, I'm giving my legs a break from speed.  In 2013, I finished my first half-marathon in 2 hours, 22 minutes, and 29 seconds.  I am certain I can beat that this year, but by how much, I'll keep to myself...for now.

SOREN'S FIRST TRIATHLON!!

There is nothing like looking at the world through a child's eyes.  It's inspiring to see my kid follow in my footsteps and get excited about something like Triathlon.  That being said, I want to come right out and say that I'm not one of "those Moms" who push their kids into an activity in order to fulfill a lost dream of her own through the lives of her offspring.  Quite the contrary.  I'm introducing my son to things I enjoy, but it's up to him to decide whether or not he likes it.

We're going into the way back machine, here.  Last year during my Boulder Tri Series training, Soren pipes up and said he wanted to do a race someday.  I knew at 5 years old and not riding a bike independently, he wouldn't be ready for another year or so.  I also wanted to be sure he kept that idea in his own head, without much prompting from me.  Through the year and coming into this summer, he still expressed interest in a race event.  So I felt he was ready for the Stapleton Kids Triathlon.  This small, fun kids event is a 25 meter swim, a 1 mile bike, and a 1/2 mile run through the neighborhood.

The best part about this from a parenting and triathlete's perspective, is that for Soren there was no training plan necessary.  I didn't have to get all OCD on drawing up a training plan (although I tried).  Because he is so active, it wasn't that hard to direct that energy into swimming, biking and running.  All I did for a few weeks was ask him every day if he wanted to swim, bike or run.  Pretty easy, actually, once I let go of the "work" in workout.

Given the fact that I knew he wanted to do a race, I still understood he wouldn't be able to just show up and feel good about it.  I signed him up for Swim Team and had him in lessons all summer.    He was easily handling one length.  Like me, I think he felt that was the easy part.

The bike was a bit harder.  We didn't take the training wheels off the bike until the last day of the school year.  He is apprehensive and nervous on the bike.  Again, like me, he's not so much a fan.  We worked for weeks on his independent riding, and finally got to a point where he could start himself and ride a couple of miles independently.  At first, I would run behind him.  Then he got so fast (or I got slower...always a possibility) I had to get on my cruiser bike to keep up with him.  Of the three sports, he's made the most progress on the bike, and I couldn't be more proud that he overcame his fear of riding.  We even rode the bike course a couple of days before the race.  Hard to suppress the OCD part.

Running for a 6 year old boy.  Um, do we really need to discuss how easy that is?  He runs everywhere!  The only thing we really did to help him with his running is that since he runs like a 6 year old (limbs flopping everywhere, landing flat-footed), I showed him some tips on how to run easy and strong.  Every time we would run somewhere (the park, the pool, etc), I would show him how to keep his arms in, run up on his toes and run easy instead of sprint.  He got the hang of it, and loved to go out running.

Stapleton Kids Tri!

Packet Pick-up: This was just plain funny.  It was all just as official as any race in which I have participated!  Bib numbers sponsored by Road ID, official race t-shirts, and even timing chips!  I even had swag bag envy!  Most of the time, my race swag bag is filled with useless deals, like 20% off for dinner at a major chain restaurant, and the coupon expires by noon that day.  Or a free podiatry appointment.  Soren's bag had a coupon for free ice cream at Cold Stone, two bike lights, a Free Kids Pizza at Mici's and two bottles of sunscreen...among many other things! I was really jealous.

Transition...before the race

Okay, say this with me: "This is Not an Ironman."  He doesn't need to be concerned about nutrition, how he will manage T1 efficiency, or how to carry a water bottle on the run.  Funny part is that he was so excited about my new Ultimate Direction water bottle, he wanted to use it during the race even though I explained to him he didn't need it.  Every time I started problem solving for a big race I had to remind myself, "okay, he's only going to be out there for 20 minutes. This is not a big deal."

So when race day came, all I cared about was that he didn't give up.  If he doggy-paddled across the pool, stopped on the bike every 30 seconds and walked the rest of the course, I didn't care as long as he tried his best and had a good time.  In the days leading up to the race, he started getting really excited.  He would say things like, "I can't wait for my race!"  He'd ask me, "Will I get a medal?"  So cute!  I made sure he knew that no matter what happened on race day, I am already proud of him.

Body Marking

When we got to the morning of the race, there were already kids competing.  The 9-13 age group went first, so we got to see part of how the race worked.  We were let into transition complete with body marking (what I consider a futile attempt at placing identification on the skin of the athlete that rubs off with sunscreen).  We (Nils, Stephanie, myself and Soren) got all set up in transition.  Soren had oodles of nervous energy, bouncing around like a kangaroo.  However, when it came time to do the athlete's briefing, he sat very quiet, very focused.  I could tell he was getting nervous.

Focused on the briefing

Last minute pointers from mom

Soren at right

Determined

The 6-8 year olds moved into the pool area, while I remained in transition to help Soren with his move from the swim to the bike.  It was my own personal nightmare coming true.  I was trapped in the transition area, and I wasn't allowed to leave!  I've had this dream before, and I didn't like it!  Whew, okay.  Actually, I sat in wait for Soren to wander out of the pool and make his way toward me and his bike.  What surprised me was how fast he came shooting into T1!  I thought for sure the nerves would make him reluctant, but his adrenaline was definitely pumping!  I helped him get his shoes on and he grabbed his bike and took off like a rocket.

T1 support crew

We're gonna need a bigger bike.

We didn't see him much on the bike, because he was moving so fast!  Well, as fast as he could for a kid whose bike is two sizes too small for him.  We saw him come around the corner working so hard, telling him we'd see him at the finish.  I ran as fast as I could...actually almost missed him come out of T2...to see him flying like a bullet out of the run chute.

Dancing man

Running man

I watched him throughout the run, dancing, high-fiveing complete strangers and generally kicking serious butt.  They even had a water station, where he stopped to grab a drink while walking.  A couple of times, he would dramatically put his hands on his knees and pant a couple of times before standing back up and running again.

Finally a Water break!

See?  He's floating.

Looking like a runner!

FINISH LINE!!

Just as an aside: Here's what bugs me about his run pictures compared to mine.  In every picture ever taken of me during a race, it looks like I have both feet firmly planted on the ground and that I'm barely moving.  In Soren's pictures, he looks like he's levitating!


Now onto the finish: He flew up the hill and around the final corner to his first triathlon Finish.  We couldn't be more proud.  He worked so hard and had so much fun, and that's all I cared about.  He's already asked me to sign him up for next year.

His first medal!

 So here's the question.  How did he do?  He finished.  He did his best, and he never quit, and he had fun.  And isn't that what this is all about?   I'm not one of those parents that put undue pressure on my kid to be the best of all.  I just want him to do his best.  I wasn't standing at the finish line with a stop watch waiting to berate him for not being better (yes, there were those parents there).  This is a neighborhood kids event, not the World Championships in Kona.  I was screaming my head off.  I let the cowbell off it's leash!  I was jumping and running and cheering for my precious little boy who has now tasted this kind of accomplishment.  And you know what?  If he never does it again, that is okay.  He will find something he loves.  Maybe it's triathlon, or hockey, or sailing, or something that neither his Dad nor I know the first thing about.  But it will be his thing, because he wants it badly enough.

Because it's all about who's waiting at the finish.

Man it's hot today!

IRONMAN BOULDER: A SPECTATORS POINT OF VIEW

There is something to be said for sitting on the sidelines and watching others perform great feats of physical strength and endurance.  For example, I love attending Cirque du Soliel whenever I have a chance.  The acrobats, jugglers, and clowns are not only talented, but they have trained their bodies for years to be superhuman.  The Olympics, with all of its fanfare and spectacle, are another opportunity to see people from all walks of life around the globe stand on an international stage and prove to the world why they deserve to be there.  I hold the same view of an Ironman event.

Although this was not my race to run, I wanted to watch my friends reach for their goals under the grueling race conditions on August 3rd.  I was so proud of them!  They worked so hard and wanted it so badly, I just had to bask in the glow of their acheivements.  So Soren and I set to work on making signs for race day.  We got out the poster board, markers and glitter glue to make half a dozen signs that we rarely used in the grand scheme of race day, but the process was fun.  I got a lot of comments on the sign that read: "Ironman.  140.6 miles.  Because 140.7 miles would just be stupid!"  We bought a cowbell...you know, because we need one...and made a plan for race day.  

Soren is throwing out his support for the riders.

Although this may only be hearsay, my understanding was that the bike course for IMB crossed into 6 counties.  As a one-loop, 112 mile bike course, my question was, "Where in all of that space do we go to cheer on our friends?!"  With a little timing math, and some help from the race website, Soren and I found the perfect spot under the I-25 overpass.  This put us at the race course around mile 80.  When we actually found it.  I don't know how we got lost on I 25, but we did.  

We stood there under the overpass for about 45 minutes.  During that time, I saw every emotion on the faces of these riders.  One guy came by, sat up on his seat and waved his arms in the "Turn it up, I want to hear the crowd" attitude.  A few riders came by and thanked the spectators for being there.  there were many athletes that were so much in the zone, I'm not even sure they saw us, or cared we were there.  Lots of riders smiling (or it might have been a grimace, but I prefer to think they were smiling), and every once in a while, there was the, "Holy crap, I'm gonna die" look.  I mean, it was almost 90 degrees.  Not bad for an August day on the high plains, but still warmish.

We were specifically looking for 3 people: Jim and Julie Mayo and Mark Mulligan.  I followed these three very closely in the posted times.  And yes, there's a app for that, which I checked  every 30 seconds or so (OCD anyone?).  At Bike Mile 80, we completely missed Jim, but I knew Julie was on her way, with Mark not far behind her.  Julie came rocketing by us at what seemed like 90 miles per hour.  She was already 20 feet past me before I realized it was her, but I screamed at the top of my lungs anyway.  Not long after that, Mark whizzed by us...I saw him and yelled so loud for so long, I was hoping my volume would propel him for the last 30 miles into town.

Then we had to get into downtown Boulder in the middle of an International event.  mmmmK....We muscled through the traffic and lucked out on Pearl Street parking.  I have to say that hanging out on Pearl Street was odd for this CU alum.  It looks so different, yet not much has changed.  All of my favorite stomping bars are gone, but my favorite shops are still there.  I digress.  Ironman on Pearl Street was perfect.  It was picturesque and lively, with incredible buzz and energy.  So Soren and I had an adventure trying to figure out where to watch the runners.  Well, first we hit the Ironman store.  That's where we got the cowbell, and Soren got his shirt.  On the back of this great shirt is a list of the athletes participating.  So cool.

Future Ironman?

We tried to catch our friends at T2, but missed them.  However I did see one of my favorite Mother Runners, Dimity McDowell, co-author of "Run Like a Mother," and Ironmother.  She was a volunteer in the T2 tent.  Her 6' plus height and bubbly personality were a dead giveaway.  So awesome to see her!

Soren and I moved on to the Boulder Creek trail to watch the runners.  If you have ever seen an uphill stage during the Tour de France, you get the idea of the energy.  Narrow passage, lined to the gills with people yelling, ringing cowbells, and throwing out so much encouragement the spectators practically impede the athletes' progress.  Oh my gosh it was so fun!!!  While I stood course-side, Soren played in the creek.  Just picture perfect.  I saw Jim rocket by me at his 13 mile mark, as I screamed encouragement along the way.  Not far behind him was Julie, smiling from ear to ear!  I hollered out to her and she stopped to give me a happy, "It's great to be alive" kind of hug!  We waited a bit for Mark who, as I was interpreting his run pace on my IronTrac App, was not running but rather walking.  Can't say I blame him.  He came up the creek at his 10 mile checkpoint smiling, and stopped, saying "You do NOT want to give me a hug right now."  I responded, "the heck I don't!" and gave him a huge hug.

Meeting Mark at the finish line...the kid is tired, too.

While waiting for my friends, I saw the smilers...people who were thrilled to be there; the haters...those who were despising every mile, and visibly questioning why they thought signing up for an Ironman was a good idea; and the inspired.  There were the walking wounded and the triumphant rockstars.  I saw at least two people with prosthetic legs kicking serious butt, as well as a man pushing a Bob stroller with I can only assume was his physically/mentally challenged child.  I have seen this before: a parent who pulls their child on a raft during the swim, pulls a bike trailer for 112 miles, then pushes them in a stroller for the full marathon.  This is a big deal for me, and it brings tears to my eyes.

Playing on Boulder Creek.

Through all of this, Soren played, rang the cowbell, held up signs, and found every playground between Boulder High and Pearl Street.  My brother, Chris came into town wearing his "IM Support Crew" t-shirt (that I got for him when I thought I would be competing on this day), and hung out with us into the late hours of the evening.  I was so proud of Soren for his patience and fortitude during this long, hot day.  It was fun to see him get into the excitement of the event.

The finish line was absolutely crazy!  Loud and raucous with a cacophony of cowbells and screaming supporters, it was electrifying!  We ran into Jim and Julie after they had already finished looking triumphant with their incredible races behind them.  I was so proud of both of them!  Later, we waited for Mark who had picked up his pace and crossed the finish line just before 10 PM.  We found him getting his pictures taken, wished him congratulations, and headed to the car.

With a triumphant Jim and Julie

In the end, I had experienced a wide range of emotions.  in the days and weeks prior to the race, I watched my friends and Facebook training group get amped, nervous and excited.  They shared their pre-race nightmares, and ask their "no dumb" questions.  As they hit their taper weeks, the anticipation creeped in, and I started feeling like I was being left behind.  24 hours before the race started, I hit my lowest.  I actually regretted my decision to drop out of the race.  I wished I had kept going and would be racing alongside my friends.  It was awful.  I was near tears the night before the race, I was so bummed.  Frankly, it was irrational and silly to feel that way, but nonetheless, I did.  Until about 2:00 in the afternoon on race day.  When I saw the faces of the runners on Boulder Creek, and felt the heat of the road under the I-25 overpass, I got over that really fast.  No regrets over dropping out of Ironman Boulder.

So I got to share an amazing day with my racing friends.  I got to cheer for them along the course and scream at the top of my lungs at the finish line.  I am so proud of them, and every single athlete there that day.  I am not convinced that 140.6 is not in my future, but for now, I get to bask in the glow of my friends achievements, be proud of them today.  So congratulations Mark, Julie and Jim and all of the other athletes who gave their best.  I stand in awe of you!  You are an Ironman!

Julie's exuberant celebration at the finish! 

Stay tuned for my next blog: Soren's first Triathlon!