The Little IRONMAN that Could: 2014

Jordan Rapp (an Ironman Pro Triathlete) said after his race in the Woodlands on Saturday....

"Six weeks of great training is wonderful. But its nothing compared to 6, 12, 18 months of consistent training. With depth of fitness comes not only resilience - where doing a bit too much (or too little) is less impactful - but also a better sense of where your body is at. The more often you've been more consistent, the more predictable your body is at. The more often you've been more consistent, the more predictable your body becomes. And Ironman - and endurance sport in general - is really about predictability. It's about expectations and reality coming together. Knowing what to expect of yourself and then executing that."

You can ready more from Jordan on is blog http://blog.rappstar.com/. He really is quite entertaining.

And for me, having read this quote about 18 jillion times today on the ride home, this speaks an enormity of truth to me in regards to my experience on Saturday. A great experience, a learning experience, and experience knowing that it's time to move forward.

Flashback to Dec. 2nd 2013, the day post Ironman Cozumel. Tired, sore, hobbling up and down the granite steps of Cozumel Palace, I was on a high. An immense high after completing a goal that had at one time seemed completely unattainable. A high of knowing that I was and would always be an Ironman. What an immense feeling that was. And highs (of any kind...) can make you do things rashly, quickly, emotionally, sometimes without a lot of hard foresight into what those things will mean.

On Dec. 11th, I pushed the button to sign up for Ironman Texas. 10 days post race, feeling recovered, ancy, unsure of where to go, what to do after so many months spent solely focused on a goal that was now in my rear view mirror. So, I signed up to do it again. I paid my fee (plus some for the donation slot since Ironman Texas had sold out on Dec. 2nd...), and I promised to start back dilligently training the second week in January after I had had a good 7 weeks off and I would be 20 weeks out from May 17th.

The Holidays came and went in a flurry, parties, the flu and mayhem all ensued. And come that second week, I did as I told myself, and I began training again. Except it was different this time.

I'm not sure there's many first timers that choose to take on 2 Full IM's in 5 months. For me, I didn't really think about it much, just wanted to get over the "Ironman Hangover" and start moving towards something again. Because you see that's the thing with big goals. Sometimes after reaching them, you can reach the bottom depths of the lowest low after them. The let down, the depression, the listlesness of wondering if you will ever do something as great again as you just did. I was super determined to just get out there and do something great, again. To get that feeling. In essence, I was simply chasing the high that I woke up with on December 2nd. And chasing something...success...a goal...a dream...a wish...can be so frustrating. And in the midst of that chasing this Spring, I kind of lost myself a little bit. Or a lot. But more on that later. Let's hear my Saturday story. Shall we?

THE WEEK OF:

Healthy, ready to race, I think I repeated the words "If I could just do it tomorrow...." a million times. I was so ready. Not because I felt so ready, but because I was so ready to just be out there again. I decided to approach this race smarter than the last. I had a "race plan" which really can only be borne out of having done a race like Ironman before. I had done the 140.6 before. I knew what to expect from my body (in some ways), I knew where my mental hang-ups would come into play, and I also knew that nutrition wise, some major things would have to change in order for this race to be successful. You see...I did IM Cozumel in the winter of December...yes Mexico winter, but still winter. I knew that I would be dealing with hotter temps (it actually turned out to be similar temps), and unlike last time where I started the run at dusk, I knew I would be starting a marathon with the afternoon Texas sun still blazing. So I had to plan for that.

Last week. I ate. I didn't eat shit, but I did eat a lot. And starting Monday, I was downing close to 2 gallons of water a day (without shedding really any sweat...because I was resting), and eating. Starting Wednesday, I focused on taking in more electolytes, more salt so I would hold on to the water I was intaking, and thus came the bloat.

Holy effing mother of a duck, I was bloated. Like I had a neck roll. Of bloat. Wow. As we got in the car to leave on Thursday, I felt like my whole body was immersed in water. And my cheeks showed it. Wow. I have never. ever. I will never, ever. Show the photos from that little experimentation. It was brutal for me.

Also Wednesday, I had 1, 2, then FIVE clients cancel sessions with me due to a "stomach bug." When my tummy started disagreeing with me Wednesday morning...I was like...WELP, looks like I got it too. The whole drive up on Thursday, into Friday...and race morning...yep...persisted.

Now was this stomach nerves. Maybe. Has it persisted yesterday and today post race...yep, sure has! But I have no clue at this point. But something I did last week did not agree with me. Lesson learned? Still trying to figure that out.

PRE-RACE

All other preparation went well. We arrived safely into the Woodlands on Thursday and I had this feeling of relief as we walked to the athlete check-in. Kristofor said it aloud, "it's nice to be amongst our people again." You know, the people that do Ironman, the ones that make me feel like the least fit person in the world because they've done like 80 of them. Yep those people. When you get into the area where these races take place, just like in Cozumel, its an instant feeling of family that can't be explained. And you always run into familiar faces. I saw a couple of my Cozumel race buddies in passing, you see others with the "race shirts" on and it's like "hey! I did that race, you think this ones going to suck as bad?" etc etc. Its a camaraderie that can't be explained. For the ones that have been there, been through the 140.6 miles of pain, amazing, and self doubt, the triumph and the let down. It's like a club you have to be hazed into. So you did 140.6 miles in one day, cool me too! We can be friends now. It's kind of like that. Kind of.

And I got a backpack.

Happily Posing with my IMTX prize!

This is going to sound so silly, but last year...I wanted one of those damn back packs (not the ones you can just buy...the ones you have to EARN) so damn bad. And when in Cozumel they didn't give backpacks as race swag (I got a jacket that I do love...), I was quite butt hurt. So when I got to athlete check in and picked up that foreign made piece of sewed together Chinese plastic (as Kristofor calls it...) I was ECSTATIC. I told the lady handing it to me, I did it for the backpack. Because you know what. I WANTED THAT BACKPACK. And now I have one. Happy Lacy.

Also at packet pickup, while buying my new pair of Newton's (because MIZUNO...you are in the dog house for sizing me out of my favorite shoes...), Kristofor came over and said, "hey, I think your instagram friend is in the Rudy Tent." So I bought my shoes and headed over, in the most non-stalker kind of way. And there was Alyx! I had connected with her over IG about a week before, and we had mused about meeting up. But there's 2800 athletes, so who knew if that would happen, but there she was. Fate, maybe, awesome, for sure! Alyx is a bad ass personal trainer and editor of Phitness magazine, and we hit it off right off the bat. Exchanged numbers a few minutes later and we had a date for the athlete's dinner that night! I love making IM friends, so fun, and those are friends you keep as you go to different races throughout the years.

The athlete's dinner is one of my favorite events. Last year, I attended, as a guest, not as an athlete, and I knew that night that an Ironman was definitely in my future. It's so awesome to have everyone in one room. And I saw some amazing things at the dinner. From first timers that were 18 years old, to experienced IMing 80 year olds, to competitors that had lost 70, 80, 90, 200lbs to get to the start line. INCREDIBLE. Alyx and I got to chat quite a bit. I won't reveal our secrets because that just wouldn't be fair, but we had a good giggle about our pre-ironman preparations.

Alyx and I at the Athlete's meeting!

Dinner over, I headed to the bathroom (why am I telling you this????....) and when I exited, I was tapped on the shoulder. I turned around to see the cutest little person I've ever seen, and the first words out of her mouth were "are you riding a tri bike?" I literally laughed audibly. Because anyone that knows, KNOWS that I have had a journey to find a damn bike that would fit my impossible 4'10.5 inch frame that includes impossibly short legs that don't reach any pedals unless I have the "pedal holders" custom made to me, which I have done. I told her yes, and we started in on a long convo about bikes, being short, Tad Hughes (our bikefit guy), and it being Linda's first IM. She was such a sweetheart, and we exchanged numbers so we could keep in contact over the next couple of days.

Lacy and Linda, smallest IM Athletes out there...for sure!

As we walked to our car on Thursday night, I knew that I would see both of those ladies again. Can I reiterate that I LOVE making friends at these events. And can I also state that this sent me into a deep heart felt missing spell for my Ali from Cali, my Ironmate from Cozumel, my finisher buddy, whom I still talk to on the weekly. I knew I would get to the Woodlands and miss her, but I actually started missing her way way before I even got to the start line of the run. She was and is such an intrical part to my finisher story the first time, and there was some hesitation in my heart about not having her there with me (She is doing Ironman Whistler in Canada in JULY!).

BUT...I wouldn't be alone for long, Friday afternoon, 7 of my very bestest bestest AND my Dad were on their way to Houston to cheer me on. And knowing that they would be there come race morning really kept me calm.

I slept hard on Thursday night. Tummy still awry, but I was sleeping like a champ and felt relaxed. Kristofor had to pull me out of bed to get me to the practice swim on Friday morning. I begrudgingly got up, grabbed my wetsuit (which I was 95% certain I was not going to wear...) and headed out. I put the damn thing on and got in the water as soon as we arrived. I swam about mmmmm....maybe 100m, before I turned around and said NOPE. Not gonna happen. The thing chokes me like a boa constrictor and I aint got time for that. So I took it off and waited for Kristofor to get out of the water. As we walked back to the car, I saw a man in the parking lot with a hand made sign that said, in scribble..."WETSUIT REPAIRS". Seemed legit. No one had given him a wetsuit. I like to try my hand at lady luck every so often so I went up to him and showed him my Zoot Suit. "Can you FIX this?...It strangles me." Keith, the wetsuit man, took one look and said, "SURE, I can just cut off the collar and glue it shut." Since I'm obviously so attached to the thing, I handed it over without flinching and said, "OK, do it." Didn't ask a price, didn't even ask a for a number (he gave me his card...), and 2 min later we were headed to the car. We were to drive back to the lot and pick it back up. So less than 24 hours from IM Dos, I handed my wetsuit to a stranger in a parking lot holding a handmade sign and told him to fix it. Wow. I mean, that had to be one of the ballsiest things I've done in a while. I think Kristofor was a bit flabbergasted at me. The man had NO OTHER wetsuits. BUT...pack mentality always ensues. By the time we drove our car back into the lot, Keith had 4 more wetsuits to work on. You see, I was just the trail blazer. All those other wetsuit needy people should thank me! Kristofor even handed over his to get a few tears repaired.

The collar cutting worked. I swam around the hotel pool like a fool in that suit, dodging playing children, and I got a feel that I would not feel so strangled in it. So I decided I would wear it, and wear it I did. We got ready for pre race dinner, and the final wind down.

Later that night when we were at dinner, my Dad walked in, and the emotions of everyone being there really started to hit me. A huge issue for me in Mexico was my lack of familiarity. Kristofor was the only face I knew in the crowd. Seeing my Dad and Johnny walk in made me realize that Saturday, I would not be alone, there would be smiling familiar faces. And the tears had to be held back. I knew then it was going to be a very very special day.

In all true Lacy fashion. Because I am a control freak and I like to make people follow my directions. I wrote a "race guide" for my spectators. Yes, you read correctly, I wrote an instruction manual for my friends and family that came to cheer for us. Complete with arrival times, spot locations, addresses, and recommendations on how to hydrate. So kill me. I wanted my fans to be happy. Michelle said that's why she joins the Bod Squad Running Team every year; because I create these guides that tell you exactly what to do, I tell you exactly what to run and when and you don't have to think you just have to do. Renea asked her to put that in writing. But it's true, I like to make and give directions. Shoot me.

So my spectators were debriefed, my belly was full, my heart was happy, and I went to sleep by 10pm the night before the second biggest race of my 31 (32 in USAT years...) life.

RACE DAY

4AM came quickly and I laid in bed for 20 min just trying to get a feeling for what I would feel and do that day. Kristofor was up and at em', and I told him that I was awake that I was just going to lay there for a little while. I finally got up, dreamed of the moment I would get back in that bed later that night (SUNDAY...) and get to rest again. I ate my PBJ sandwich (thanks Alex Jimenez for the tip!) and I began hydrating. I took one look in the mirror and saw the puffiness at it's finest, all my hard work of "water loading" at it's peak. I squeezed myself into my tri suit, marveled at my tightly braided hair that hadn't moved an inch, and looked myself square in the eyes. I closed the bathroom door, gazed at myself in the full length mirror, and I kind of gave myself a pep talk. Not because I wasn't feeling up to it, but because I had lingering worries about my tummy, lingering doubts about my training, and a pit in my stomach about the pain I knew my body would feel by the end of the day. I'm a visualizer. I told someone at the athletes dinner that I visualize my race finish in my head over and over. I have watched "THE SECRET" and I do believe in it. For me, I feel like if I have a clear picture of what I will look like crossing that line, there will be no doubt that I would get there. So I stared at my reflection and I made myself see the finish line, even though it was hours and hours away.

We packed up our car, I checked my phone that already had incoming texts from my girls, and we were in the parking lot with our crew by 5:15AM. The crowds were huge, much larger than in Cozumel. Family and friends and athletes everywhere. I shuffled into transition to check my bike that I had dropped off the day before. I unracked it and had my tires checked, I shoved my bonk breakers into my bento box, filled my new 40oz Speedfill water jug (that thing was a total game changer for me, best purchase ever) and checked my run bag. I remembered I had my Garmin watch to put with my run stuff, but in a last minute moment of such lucky clarity, I decided to strap my watch to the top tube of my bike instead of keeping it with my run gear. I have had issues with my CatEye speedometer for months, and I figured, hey, if worst comes to worse, at least having that watch would keep me in the loop as far as what time it was on the bike. This was foreshadowing at it's best. I don't know if I made it necessary, or it was in some pre-ordained plan unbeknownst to me, but I needed that watch and later in the day I was so glad I had it there.

The swim start is about a mile from transition, so I exited the bike corrals and met up with our team for photos and a long walk. I promised Renea a video once I was firmly in line at the portapotties and by the time we got to the swim start, the lines were HUGE. I obliged my best pre-video work I had, and I did my biz like planned, and decided to go down the route I had gone down many many many a time before but hadn't been down in a long time (since February of 2012...). Watch out for the TMI coming...#sorrynotsorry

I took an immodium. I don't do that anymore. But given my current state, it was my last resort. The girls literally LUBED me into my wetsuit. I was worried about getting tore up in the water by chafing, so we body glided and vaselined and skin-saked me all up until I could have slid right out of it without even trying. And then came more pictures.

The National Anthem was sung. The singer was so amazing. She sang at the athlete's dinner and I love her voice. And I closed my eyes. Melissa said she teared up looking at me. I was tearing up. I prayed and stayed quiet. I was so quiet before my swim at Cozumel, but Saturday, I was amongst a flurry of excited friends and family, so I took that moment to try and center myself before the intense agony of a 2800 person mass swim start.

Calm before the Storm.

We hustled to the swim entrance, said our goodbyes, and I don't know if the girls knew then how long of a day they were in for. For how much I would change from that moment they saw me in my wetsuit with my eyes closed to the moment they ran with me in my final miles. But I can tell you, I was not the same person in the morning as I was by 11:21pm. As I waited in a group of anxious people, hundreds of them, I found Alyx, and then I found Linda. I think God works in such amazing ways. How 3 women in 2800 found themselves entering the water together was surely His work. We hugged and got teary, and the gun went off. We weren't in the water yet. Things were behind, we didn't get there quick enough...and although it wasn't a big deal, I didn't enter the water and start swimming until the clock read about 2min38sec. Oh well, if that was going to break me then it wouldn't have been my day. But there would be times on Saturday when I wished I had those minutes.

THE SWIM

It wasn't as violent as Cozumel. I didn't get pushed under, but I had trouble finding space in the first 200meters. I was jostled around, I would end up hitting someone's leg or getting kicked in the shoulder. And I would have to break sequence to look up and restart. About 250m in, I started to get a groove. I LOVE swimming in lakes. I adore open water swimming and abhor swimming in pools, which is why I swam...wait for it...and I'm being honest here...

7 times between December and May. I swam 7 times. All long swims over a mile. But just 7. Honesty.

Swimming is very natural for me. I'm not good at it, my stroke needs work, but I'm very "natural" at it, if that makes sense. I am slow, and unfazed, and calm...not myself at all, only when I'm in the open water. I love the open water. No lanes, no turns, just water, just distance. Right when I started to get into my pattern of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, sight, I realized I could extend it to a count of 8 and be ok since we were swimming in a straight line. No sooner than I was in my 4th or 5th set, was I pummeled. By a man. With grey hair. With a snorkel. Damn the man. He probably had no idea he was my nemesis and I have no idea who he was. But holy hell. He kept getting me. He kicked my goggles off 2x. I stopped and treaded water to fix them. Reset, and he would come again. That damn snorkel. Finally I just stopped for a bit, waited for the crowd to pass, and then I found room to begin again. I was hit a few more times, notably once in the top of the head and thought "wow...lets just get a concussion here", but I was fine and recovered. The first turn seemed to take a while, but I have no watch in my swim. I had no clue of how long it had been. I made the turn and started swimming back up the lake, following the crowd and I was happy because I had people around me. Which is strange because I wanted space, but knowing there were others meant I wasn't going painfully slow and in danger of not getting done in the 2hr 20min cutoff. In Cozumel, I swam so alone I almost thought I was last (I was not), but here I knew I couldn't be terrible because I had so many athletes around me. I made a ridiculously wide right turn into the final channel because I didn't know any better. It was strange swimming along, hearing spectators and music. Like I could pick up my head and wave at people (I did NOT do that...), but it was all so close and confined. I had hoped for a 1hr 40 to 1hr 45min swim time. When I turned the final corner and saw 1hr 51min I was bummed for a sec but HEY, I swam the full 2.4 miles.

Side note: It has aggravated me a lot that so many have said that my IM in Mexico was not a "Full IM" because they cut the swim short for safety reasons. It was 1.95 miles. .45 is a long ways in swimming, but I made up that .45 on the bike in Cozumel. But still, it had irked me that I hadn't swam the entire "Iron Distance" even though those people are assholes and should keep their mouths shut. But it had been point of annoyance for me. I've done it now. kthanks.

Also when I got hoisted out of the water, I was greeted with a surprise! Renea and Melissa were there! HOLY CRAP! That was not in the race guide, you guys were supposed to be at Transition! I love my rogue friends, going against my plans. Renea was crying and screaming and I took a second to say hello before I laid on the ground like an upside down turtle to have them haul my wetsuit off of me. Ummm...least attractive thing ever. And I RAN into the transition tent.

What a different experience. In Mexico, we were fending for ourselves with our bags and changing. In Texas, they bring your stuff to you and want to do it all for you. I didn't know what to think. And then Alyx came in! Wow! And then Linda! Wow! We all were there together, so awesome. I strapped on my bike helmet, put on my shoes, and headed out for the sunscreening of a lifetime.

Sunscreen. So important. I knew my Dad would be just as proud of me finishing my Ironman without a bad burn as he would be with me just finishing. So I told them to lather me up. I went to 3 different people. My goal was to exit transition by 9am. I exited at 9:04am. Spectacular, I was doing so well with my time management. Makes a happy Lacy!

I grabbed my bike, which I think I have named. Magnolia. (I haven't even told Kristofor this...). And I walked out to the bike out area. There were my peeps, again! OMG, to hear them and see them was like the hugest boost. I knew this would be the last of them until I came in from the bike, so I kind of took it in for a second. Literally a second. Told them I loved them, then I mounted Magnolia (which I named on the course...) and I was on my way.

Headed out for a 112 mile adventure!

THE BIKE

Now let's be clear. I have had a full on love/hate relationship with the world of cycling. This round of IM I was riding my brand new toy, my Cervelo P2. That bike costs more than any other possession I own (short of my car and home which I don't "own" just yet). Had I ever known I would spend that much of my hard earned cash on a bicycle, I would have yeah...not believed me. I'm still not the cyclist I aspire to be. I know that's why I hate it. In swimming, I can deal with the fact that I'm slow because I am so natural at it. I hate saying natural, but that's all I can come up with. I just get it in the open water, but with cycling, I literally feel out of place. I'm whiney, I cry, I throw tantrums, I don't know how it all works or what all of the things are called. If I get a flat tire, I may be done with racing, and I'm slow as far as "Ironman triathletes" go. My only goal was to average about 15mph. That's like bare minimum here folks. My Cozumel bike leg was brutal on me mentally, nutritionally, and I hated it. I have had more rough outdoor rides than good ones. And I've spent a lot of money, and one long road trip to Houston in March to try and get my shit in order to do better.

So as I'm riding out of the bike area, I remembered the wise words of my husband. He said. The first 60 miles were so much fun, the forest, the scenery. Miles 65-85 suck real bad. And then you are back into town 85-112miles. I don't ever look at race maps. I like to be surprised (see WIDE right turn on the swim course). So that was all I knew. I didn't get a chance to pee out of T1, so I bargained with my bladder that come the first aid stop we would go. The first few miles were fun. People cheering, the bustle of the city having to go around the race, but also I became keenly aware that unlike Cozumel, this race was OPEN to traffic. I didn't really like that. I don't trust cars. There have been too many tragedies in the Valley lately regarding cyclists that have brought me to tears. And have made me legit afraid of riding along our roadways (my Dad now graciously SAG drives for us on long rides). I train a lot on a trainer indoors. So, I was a bit freaked at all of the traffic so close to me. And I would later find out that my husband and my bike guy, Rick were both in minor accidents on race day, which is a shame.

I headed out of town, and I finally reach mile 12ish for the first stop. I made good on a promise and I waited in the portapotty line, and things were not good. I put my NUUN tabs in my speedfill bottle and went on my way a bit freaked out seeing as I had just taken immodium 2.5 hours prior. But I rode. And oh it was beautiful.

I love a lake swim. And you know what. I love a rolling, hilly bike. I have so much trouble training on the flat windy roads of South Texas. But I love to drive up a hill and fly down. It was so hard. It was much harder than I expected. But it was twice as much fun. I was having fun. I WAS HAVING FUN ON MY BIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That was awesome. I didn't feel so good, but my pace was good and I was enjoying the hilly climbs on my shiny Cervelo. I was being passed on the left time and time again, which is agonizing for someone that is competitive like myself, but I tried to focus on my ride. By the next stop at mile 22ish, I had to make another portapotty trip, better, not great. On my way.

And then it happened. I'm going to thank this man. I'm going to use all my anger that he built up inside of me and thank him. I won't go into detail because it wouldn't be polite, but I introduced myself to this person about mile 23ish, told him my name and he told me his. And we exchanged pleasantries and I passed him politely. Didn't think much about it. There is a time cut off at Ironman Texas. You had to reach mile 60 of the bike by 1:40pm. I was pacing ok, my frequent bathroom stops were pushing me back, but I was still ok, and I knew where I was and how I was doing. About mile 30 on the dot. This man passed me, the same man, and he said, "looks like you may not make the mile 60 cutoff." I was shocked. And I replied. LOUDLY. UMMMM...it's not even NOON. And he sped away. I was PISSED. FURIOUS. But it fired me up. What the hell. How could someone be so rude. Was he meaning to be rude? How was that not rude. But I was mad. And from then on I rode pissed. At least until mile 60. When I got to the "special needs" aid station where my bike "special needs" bag was. I asked the time. It was 1:08pm. I had made it with 32 minutes to spare. I looked in my bag, grabbed my sour gummy worms I was looking so forward to, refilled my water, and I took my second dose of immodium. 2 pills this time. I hoped this would end my stomach issues. And it did for the bike portion. I was on my way leaving that damn first bike cut off behind me. On my way.

The first half of the bike seemed so hard, so I had no idea what to expect for the last 52. And then. My bike computer went out. Just like I had foreshadowed earlier, it died. Gone. No more time, no more speedometer, no more knowing how fast I was going. Agony. I was mad for a second, but I didn't have time to be mad. I now was faced with making it off the bike by 5:30pm for the final bike cut off, or my day would be over. I stopped and put my Garmin watch on my wrist. At least I knew what time it was, and the mile markers were clear every 10 miles. I was at about mile 64, so I knew I had to hustle.

My last half of the bike was exhilarating. No speed sensor was freeing. I flew through the beautful forest and entered the chip sealed roads my husband had spoken about, but they weren't so bad. I was going faster than I had planned, couldn't know for sure, but could feel it. I passed mile 70 and looked at my watch. 42 miles to go. The crosswinds were intense when we got into Magnolia, Tx. I remember passing this huge and beautiful estate, American and Texas flags flying violently as the winds whipped them in the air. And a gust almost blew me over. And I think I said aloud something cheesy like "Whoa, Magnolia!" (thus where my bike name came from...) and I gripped onto my bike horns super tight. I braced myself as another gust came and went, and then it happend the first time. My chain came off.

I am mechanically disinclined when it comes to my bike, which is stupid. Really it is. If I teach my girls anything, it will be to be better than me. My bike came to a halt, I unclipped and hopped off. Cyclists passed me, but no one was going to stop, it was a race against the clock for them too. I didn't cry, I did yell a bit, but I greased up my entire right hand trying to fix it, and I did. Back on the bike I went. The next time I climbed up a hill and downshifted into my small wheel, it happened again. Chain off. What the hell. This time I fixed it quicker, but time was slipping. By mile 80 or so, it happened for a 3rd time when I was climbing. I stumbled off for a third round, hands covered in grease, and my face covered too, and I fixed it. I shifted into my big gear and resolved to not change my gears again no matter how hard it would be to climb in the big ring. And I started to worry. If I didn't make the 5:30pm cutoff for the bike, how was I going to explain to my friends and family that I was perfectly capable of finishing but that I wouldn't be allowed to. This was a terrible feeling. And even though at mile 90 I needed to go to the bathroom, badly. I told my body no. NO NO NO. WAIT. I would do what I had to do no matter how bad it would be to get to the cutoff. At mile 95 a little bit of fate intervened.

I saw him. That man that had told me those things at mile 30. And he was stopped. I passed him and said "guess who made the 60 mile cutoff asshole" and I flew down the road. And I never looked back.

That last 17 miles I was on fire. I passed people, I was all aero and all speed. I didn't care about anything but getting to that line before 5:30pm and to the smiling faces that were waiting. I left what I had out there in those miles. I let it go. I even sang that damn Disney song even though I don't know all of the words. At about mile 107, this woman yelled to me (and remember...I have no idea what mile I am really on)... "2 more miles!" YES FINALLY! I have plenty of time. Yeah, no. It was 5 more mile biatch. Way to rain on my parade. When the race official told me at mile 110.5 that I had 1.5 more to go, I cursed her. But I kept going and before I knew it, I was in the bike in area with my friends cheering and taking video. And I was FIRED UP! It was 5:01pm.

I handed over my bike and I ran to them. Greeted with hugs and kisses almost 8 hours later, it was the most welcoming feeling. And they had signs! FOR ME!! I loved it, they told me Kristofor was doing well and had been asking about me. And I bid my farewells to head into the changing tent before my run.

Greeting my fan club before I headed into T2!

THE RUN

I got in and out of transition well. I decided to change shorts because my tri shorts were feeling super constrictive, but I looked down, and as I slid on my lulu shorts, I could tell, I had lost a lot of water weight in the race so far. Overall, I estimate I lost between 5 and 7lbs from start to finish. My nutrition plan had gone just as I had hoped, I had done everything right, I was hydrated well, even though my stomach (which had nothing to do with the day of nutrition) was still in question. I got re-suncreened, and I headed through to the run out. There was my Dad.

OH MY GOSH! MY DADDY! I was so excited to see him! And Johnny and my Uncle Kelly were there too! I was so happy. My Dad immediately wanted me to run, but I needed a minute. I had a plan for the run, and I had promised that I would take a good 10-15 min after my bike to refuel, eat and then start my intervals. So I told him it wasn't quite run time yet, that I had plenty of time, like 6hrs and 40min to finish that 26.2 miles. I knew I would be an Ironman again, but I knew I would have to take a bit to re-acclimate off the bike.

Walking out onto the run course for the first time.

You see...(and Courtney you can laugh at this...), I live on the safe side. I live on the safe side of Ironman racing. The conservative edge of the safe side of Ironman racing. I have a theory. A view. I don't ever want to be one of those people that ends up in the medic tent with an IV in their arm, the race day over, because they didn't listen to what their body was telling them. I know I can finish a marathon in 6 hours, or less. I know I can. What I don't ever want is to be stupid and try to push past what my body is telling me and end up not finishing. To me, finishing is the goal. I am still not looking to be an amazing Ironman finisher. I can so respect those than can finish quicker than I, and I can see where I can improve, but still, my goal is to FINISH. SAFELY. FOR ME. I want my friends and family to cheer as I cross the finish line under 17 hours, not cry as I am loaded into an ambulance. And given my health issues I deal with, I'm ok with that. So I took my time.

I walked through the first water stop, I ate some lay potato chips (SODIUM!!), and drank water. I grabbed two ice sponges and put one in the front of my top and one in the back, and I walked. I walked for 10 min. Briskly, but I walked. And then I began my plan. Stick to the plan. They say that over and over at the athlete's dinner, stick to the plan! And I did. I ran for 5 min, then walked for 5. I did this until I got to the Waterway where the bulk of the cheering would be, and I promised to run the 2.5 or so miles through the cheering crowds. At mile 7 I saw my girls for the first time. And they all wanted to kiss me.

Smooches! Maybe I wanted to kiss them.

Bod Squad Cheering Section! So AWESOME!

They ran with me for a bit, I told them I felt good and that I loved them, they told me that Kristofor had been asking where I was. He knew I was on the run. BIG RELIEF.

I spent the next lap frantically searching for my husband. I kept thinking I would see him. It is a loop course where you overlap a few times. And once, I was positive I had found him, I sprinted only to find it wasn't. I wasn't sad, but I really wanted for him to see me doing ok and for me to see him doing ok. I did not know he had been in an accident (thank you Ladies for NOT telling me...). I pressed on through the crowds and marveled at the crazy spectators. When it was calmer, I began to walk again.

Lap 2 began quickly (it was a 3 loop run course), and my Dad, Johnny and Uncle Kelly were not there when I passed again (I think they had gone to see Kristofor finish). And I plunged into the known parts of the run I had already encountered once before. And by mile 10, my stomach started to go south again.

I had immodium with me, but I wasn't sure I should take any more, so I did not. I dealt with it, and kept moving on. But running, quickly, was out of the question for now. At this point, the bulk of the people around were on their final lap, I was not. Spectators were asking me if it was my final lap, and I replied no. There was always a bit of silence and then an obligatory KEEP GOING. Which sucked.

And then I started to get lonely.

This was my only sad point on Saturday. Miles 11-15 were pretty awful and slow for me. I couldn't run because of my stomach, and I was so alone. My girls were far away on the far side of the run loop, and I had too much time to think in my head. I began to have conversations with people in my brain, maybe aloud, I don't even know. There were too many people around to sing (go figure that I felt alone). I finally caught up with a man about mile 14.5 that was finishing up, and we chatted for a bit, I told him about my Ali from Cali and how I missed running with a partner.

And then my love showed up. My Michelle.

She came running up the sidewalk about a mile before I planned to see her, and she exclaimed "LOVE! I was getting so worried, why aren't you running? What's wrong?" And I told her I was lonely and that my tummy hurt (like a child to their mommy), and she hugged me and jogged (yes I started jogging...) along with me. Laura met us a bit further up the course, and their presence made me feel so much better. I must be a super sappy needy person because all I wanted in that moment was to be near my friends and cry. Not because I wasn't going to finish, not because of my stomach, but just because I was tired, I was lonely and byGod when was this going to be over. I needed to visualize.

They ran with me for a bit and I finally told them to turn around. After they left me, I jogged a bit more and sank back into my little pity party I was creating for myself.

About mile 16.5 I found Linda, little Linda. She was in as much despair as me, she was worried she wouldn't make the finish. I went into coach mode and started doing the math. We were about to mile 17 (which is the only run cut off) well before the 9:50PM deadline. And we had 9 miles to go. 9 miles in 3 hours. I can do that in my sleep. I told her that. And I tried to lay out a plan for us going into the last loop.

About mile 17.5 I saw Jody and Coleen and Carolina, they hugged me and said they were glad I wasn't alone, I told them to go to the finish, and Linda and I trudged into the now very dark dark spots that awaited us for the 3rd lap.

IMTX. YOU NEED TO KEEP THE LIGHTS ON AFTER DARK FOR US SLOW PEOPLE!

It was so dark. I told Linda we couldn't run on the dirt trail because it was too dark and we couldn't see the terrain and may sprain an akle (safe side over here...), and then I didn't want to run on the unlit paths either because you couldn't see ANYTHING. So we agreed to run when we could see. And we did. We left each other a few times, but one would always catch up to the other. And by mile 23, I knew we were about home free. Any semblance of a time goal had gone out the window an hour before, so I was happy just to be making it through. As I entered the Waterway for the last time, Linda caught up with her friends and I FINALLY saw my husband and had a jolt of adrenaline! FINALLY.

And I sang. I did what I do when I am to my last little bit. I prayed, and I started singing "our God is and Awesome God He reigns from Heaven above with wisdom power and love our God is an awesome God." On repeat. I sang, and I started to run. I tried to forget about my "what if I poodle my pants" worry (ummmm yeah #sorrynotsorry) and I sang out loud. I ran until about mile 24.5. Then I had to HAD to stop. I ended up only running once I was soundly into the finisher's chute!

And MY HIGHSCHOOL FRIENDS AND MY COLLEGE FRIENDS were there!

Linnsey and Elizabeth were there to hug me, and Triston and her husband were there to see me, and it was amazing. And then I saw my Bod Squadders and my Daddy and my husband.

Elizabeth, Linnsey and I outside the finisher's chute!

There was a big group coming in front of me and then no one in front of them. So I made the decision to sprint to get some space so I could have my moment. So sprint I did. And one of the best triathlon photographers around caught this....

Epic! He said I shook his camera with my yell!

Physique pose part two, and I was across that finish line for the second time. Hard earned FULL 140.6 at Ironman Texas. The 4th toughest course in the world on the Ironman circuit.

Immediately, my cheer squad joined me with hugs and more kisses, and my race "catcher" took a photo of us not a minute after I was done.

Happy!

And it was over. My second Ironman in the books. And boy was it a journey.

POST RACE

Jordan Rapp said that consistent training leads to how predictable your body is on race day. I can completely agree. You see, I really tapered it back this time. I trained so hard in the Fall, this time I focused on "cleaning up" the areas I knew needed work, and when injury (my IT band) came knocking at the door, I listened and did what I needed to get there without catastrophically hurting myself.

I sit here 72 hours later and I'm good as new. I'm not sore. My armpits are very chafed, which is annoying and painful. But I'm not swollen. I'm not overly fatigued. And even though I'm still dealing with this damn stomach, I'm no worse for the wear. I did and performed the way I knew my body was capable. Could I have trained harder? Yes, absolutely. But do I regret how I trained and where it got me on Saturday? Not in the slightest. I knew I was going to Ironman Texas, to finish. And finish I did. Many have asked if I was disappointed I didn't finish quicker this time. And that answer is also no. It's a different race that can't be compared. I knew going in, my swim was setting me 40 min back (because yes, Cozumel had a shortened swim course), so if you subtract 40 min from my 16hr 21min IMTX finish, its about a wash with my 15hr 47min IMCZ finish. Not much difference. My swim was slower, my transitions were faster, my bike was 23 min faster (THAT IS HUGE FOR ME!!!), and my run was about 6 min off. So what. It's all about the same.

And it's done. Am I on the high again after just finishing such an amazing event? Yes, I definitely am. Do I plan on instantly signing up to do it again? Not just yet. Will I do it again, absolutely. As long as my body is able, I will always want to tackle 140.6 miles. For me, the feeling of knowing I did it for a 2nd time is my ultimate reward. Better than any medal, any t-shirt, or any back pack. I struggled so much this Spring. Health-wise, mentally, physically, athletically...I was not at my best. I really had moments where I thought that December 1st was a fluke. That I got lucky, that I was lucky to get out of my first Ironman. I really thought that I didn't have what it took to finish another one. That I was too slow, too small, too busy to train effectively, and not good enough. I took some time off in March to try and regroup. I was lost, I wasn't training my girls to the best of my ability, I definitely wasn't training myself to the best of my ability, and I wasn't treating my body right. I had to look really deep within myself to pull out of that gutter feeling. And it took a few weeks to do so. Even last week, I had moments of doubt and fear. It wasn't until Saturday morning when I looked myself square in the eyes in that mirror that I knew I could do it. So coming out of that race, I find myself a more confident person and triathlete. I have it in me to keep going even when I don't want to, even when I have months where nothing goes right, nothing makes me happy. I know now after crossing that line again, I can pick myself up. I wasn't sure of that on Saturday morning. I was sure of that Saturday night.

So what's next? A break. I'm going to switch gears and go back to lifting heavy things up and down 5x a week and doing basic cardio. I'm going back to a meal plan and I plan to compete in NPC Bikini in the fall. God willing. And I plan to train a dozen or more newbies for their first triathlons. That's my main goal. To bestow the knowledge (though I'm still learning...I know...) on others and help them see that the Ironman goal is attainable. It is. No matter how far away.

This weekend, I'm going to be participating in an event for the Boot Campaign that supports our Armed Service Men and Women. I'll be giving a little bit back. Doing push-ups, one by one for donations to this worthy cause. My goal is to get 10 businesses to donate $140.60 for me to do 140 pushups. You can find out more or donate at the link below...

Lacy's Push-Ups for Charity Page

And I plan to start taking better care of myself mentally. I never want to go back to the "deep dark place" I entered after IM 1. I want to be happy for the achievements I've made, the lessons it taught me, and I want to be grateful that this body has allowed me to do such things. I want to be thankful. So I'm going to work on that. I am an Ironman, there is no question now. Mission Accomplished.

Thanks for cheering me on!

Lacy

A huge huge thank you to all of those that have made this possible once again:

My clients, friends, sisters for driving up and being the ABSOLUTE BEST cheering section at IMTX.

Dr. Joe Siragusa for always keeping me upright and running, Best. Doc. Ever.

Bicycle World and Wally's Bicycles for their knowledge and patience with a still learning cyclist.

Tad Hughes, for your brilliance in bike fitting and sense of humor that is second to none.

Renea and George for the opportunities they have given me as a trainer, for always believing, always.

My Parents for loving and supporting Kris and I, for SAG driving and cooking us countless dinners.

My husband for training with me, putting up with my whiney shit, loving me always even when I'm like the worst wife ever, and for doing these crazy adventures by my side...or 3hrs and 23min ahead of me. Ugh.

And to everyone that sent an encouraging message, left me a gift, hugged me when I was down, called me to check on me, or put up with my many many many crabby days the last 20 weeks. I salute you. And I'm eternally grateful for your love, support, and friendship. I'm inspired by so many, I can only hope to inspire a few.

The Little IRONMAN that Could

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Well this has been different!

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Lacy Shea Healey, you are an Ironman.