Where am I?

I laid in my bed this morning...ok, this afternoon, knowing that when I got up today, everything was going to hurt. I mean, just laying there, I could feel it.  My calves, my shins, MY FEET, my back, my shoulders, my abs, my butt, MY FEET, my head.  My eyes are puffy and swollen and my nose is stuffy.  Cedar count was the highest it has been in a year yesterday, and all day I was all up in that Mountain Cedar...which is my TOP allergent in nature.  But besides the pain radiating all over my 4'9 .75 inch self, I feel good.  I feel like I got somewhere yesterday.  Somewhere I don't think I've been in a long time.

Flash back to 5 weeks ago, I sat in a hammock outside on our balcony the day after IM Cozumel, feeling about as down in the dumps as I've ever been in my entire life.  I can say this.  I've had to cut marathons short before due to nagging injury/illness or "playing it safe" because I had another bigger event coming up in the proceeding months.  And sure, that sucks.  I read back to a blog I wrote back in November 2012 about having to only do 1/2 at the San Antonio Rock N' Roll.  How sad I was.  But in that case, and in all other cases, I was able to pick myself up, sign up for another marathon 2-3 weeks later, and get it out of my system.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever left me with a bigger void than not being able to finish an Ironman.  Especially when you look back and can say it was totally out of your control.  And what sucks more?  It was at the end of a season.  Today, there was a 140.6 race in Naples Florida (not an "ironman" branded event).  Had I had the monetary means and the timing wasn't awful, I could tell you I would have been there today. But it wasn't in the cards.  The nagging sinking feeling that I didn't get the job done was overwhelming.

Side note:  You can think I'm melodramatic, or whiney, or say to yourself "I wish this chick would shut the eff up about her non Ironman race.", but point is, 1.  you're reading my blog, your choice 2. this is my story and I can tell it if I want to and 3.  well, this may reach someone that has gone through something similar and help...I've read plenty of things that have helped me over the last 5-6 years. So maybe.

Coupled with the fact we got home and immediately moved, it was a lot.  I didn't cry real tears at all in Cozumel.  I would start to get misty and just breathe and move on.  In the plane as we landed in Harlingen, I shed a couple, but basically, that was it.

We got home Wednesday December 2nd at 11pm.  Woke up and I promptly started packing, sold the contents of my studio to Ms. Heather George, continued packing.  Went through the nightmare realization that someone at our lending company dropped the ball and didn't do their job in the 87 days we had to close on our home.  Which started a domino effect.  We were to sign papers remotely for our home on the via a notary familiar with home closings.  But due to the above, we didn't get paperwork until 630PM on Thursday, had to print out 99 pages of home docs myself.  And you know how when you buy a home they lead you through the paperwork page by page as you sign your life away?  Yeah, well, I lead myself through that in front of a clueless (but very nice) notary at the UPS store, made the Overnight FedEx drop by less than an hour.  Went "home".  Woke up, packed a truck, was told at 10am that everything was fine, they had A LOT of our money, and we were  good to go.  Packed 4 dogs and 2 cats into the car.  Hit the road about noon.  Get to Robstown, Texas.  Receive a phone call that the notary missed a stamp on our paperwork (on the 2nd to last page...), they can't close our home, AND the current owner wouldn't release us keys.

So here I am with all I own in my car and in the 26ft box truck behind me driven by my husband.  And I have to call and let him know that as of that moment, we had no where to go.  Apartment had been leased, movers scheduled to unload us.  No keys to the house.  And well, the lady at the title company, she got it.  And by "it" I mean, she got the flood of emotion of several days of build up and disappointment and anxiety about change and moving and life and unstableness and everything I was feeling.  She got it, in about 5 minutes of total unabandoned sobbing with me saying over and over that she had to figure out a way for us to be in that house that night.  And that wasn't even her job (I've since hugged this lady...we're cool now).  About 50 miles from Lakehills, we finally got a call that the owners agreed to let us have ONE key to the house, and the bank called at 7:45pm to let us know they had verbally funded our home loan.  We officially closed that Monday, but man.  That was a kick in the ass. Can I recommend not taking an international vacation, doing an ironman, moving across state and closing on a home in the same week? Yeah.

So here we are 5 weeks later in Lakehills, settled in.  It's been a hustle and bustle of activity since we arrived.  I immediately put up Christmas decor, and we had friends and family galore in and out for the month of December.  Our house felt like a home really quickly this month because we've already made memories in it.  And I love our home.  It's beautiful and quiet and big enough and updated and I have a huge jacuzzi tub with jets and my dishwasher works really good and there's donkeys and deer next door and I love it.  All of it.

And during December, I started running.  Which is new to me, becauseI  really haven't just run in a long long time.  The day after Cozumel, in all my despair, while looking up things to do to redeem myself, and knowing that the trip to Naples Florida was likely not going to happen, I started to look for trail races.  And I found one.  A 100k/50k event in Bandera Texas, not 30 miles from my new home.  And before I ever left Mexico, I had committed to 100k on January 9th.

So in December, I ran.  I ran 7 miles of hills, I ran 8 miles of hills, I ran 5 miles of hills, I ran 14 miles of hills, I would run 3 miles of hill sprints, I ran.  I wasn't Forrest Gump or anything, but I did do a lot of running.  But it was all on the road.  The hills I was running were paved with nice and neat gravel or asphalt.  It would be fun to power up them and then come flying down.  It was nothing like the race I had committed to.  I may have spent the month of December running, but I also spent it reading blogs and reviews of said Bandera 100k.  And well, by late December I had decided that given my month of training only on roads, I would likely be setting myself up for too much by trying to do the 100k.  Given I hadn't done ANY trail running, and well, hadn't run any distance over 14 miles. And since this race was a WANTED to do, not a part of my total 2016 plan of attack (I do usually go into the year with a plan of what races I'm going to do and their relative importance to me...A. Race, B. Race...etc), I figured 100k was probably a little bit of a reach given my novice-ness.

Elevation Profile of Bandera 50k, about 3000Ft of Climbing

So 50k it would be.  But I didn't sign up.

Here's the thing.  To all those around me, and everyone in my life, I know in my heart of hearts that I didn't "fail" at Ironman Cozumel.  I didn't.  It was not my day.  My purpose that day, I have come to believe was to be there for my husband. He needed me that day on the run, I was able to be there, and he finished.  BUT, still, not being able to cross that finish line left me gun shy.  I was afraid to fail.  And the more I read about Bandera, the more I heard about horror stories of it being icy, of it raining and being so slick and dangerous it was the most miserable race ever.  I heard stories of all the DNFs and the DNS', and well, I was scared to fail.  What if I didn't finish it?

So I waited.  I waited until I could see the forecast, know the weather was going to cooperate, and have some sort of confidence that I was going to be able to do it.  And that's a hard thing to admit.  That I was afraid of that.  But I was genuinely afraid of it.

Last Tuesday, I ordered a pair of new Salomon Speedcross 3's on the recommendation of Coach German Madrazo, and on Wednesday, I signed up.

Yesterday morning was cold.  As per usual, I didn't sleep much the night before.  And of course, my foot started hurting.  Damn foot.  It's done so well the last 8 weeks or so, but of course, it started to act up on me a bit after my 5 miler on Tuesday.  We headed out of the house about 6:00am, it was so dark on FM 1283, I think you could see every star.  And I was nervous.  As we wound back into the State Natural Area, the cars lined up, and you could see trail runners of every age shape and size.

Trail running is a unique endurance sport.  Its like the hippie endurance sport if you will.  Triathlon is so "tech-y" with all the gear and the gadgets.  Trail running is so much more laid back and relaxed.  No one has a fancy anything really.  And I had NO clue that yesterday morning we were standing right next to the eventual Overall 2nd place winner who happens to be like a big deal in the sport, NO clue.  It would be like someone standing next to Andy Potts and being like "so."

It was so cold.  40 degrees and the winds yesterday were up to 20mph.  I was so glad Kristofor had decided to run with me, and I was so glad that he had the foresight to grab a couple of beanies to wear as well.  Once my ears were covered, I was much warmer.

Ready to start!

We had to walk a ways up to the 50k start area, and as we milled around in the 10 minutes before the gun went off, we mingled with other Ironman finishers, trail afficianados, and others that looked just as scared as I was.

And then it began.  I had read that the first 10 miles was the worst part with brutal climbs and descents back to back to back.  And it didn't disappoint.  We started climbing immediately.  And what I noticed most within the first mile was the rocks.  It was so rocky.  Every step my ankles would twitch one way or the other. Every step you would get jabbed in the foot with a rock.  And then sometimes the rocks would give way leading you to have to catch yourself as you climb up and up and up.  The views from the first climb were breathtaking. So breathtaking that within the first 2 miles, I was fishing for my phone to take a sunrise photo.

What a View!

Side note:  I had only a couple of goals for this race. 1. To finish 2. To not hurt myself or "burn myself out" so much that I would have to take weeks off to recover.  After all...I do have 2 Ironman's planned for this year, and I'm on a base building bike plan right now, and I'd like to continue to run and see how that goes.  So being stupid and trying to "hurry" was not in the plan.  Taking photos, enjoying the experience and getting a finisher medal was the plan.

Too pretty to not stop

The climbing continued.  And so did the laughing.  The first 6-7 miles of the race, we were packed in to the hills pretty tight in a line of other runners, and the guys behind me were offering up some valuable chatter about their previous jaunts on this course.  I was learning a lot about Bandera trail racing just by listening.  Hearing their stories about how crazy it is at night (I CANNOT IMAGINE DOING THAT AT NIGHT...), how shitty the weather has been before, how the people in the camp site last night were smoking out of the largest bong he had ever seen.  Ya know, good stuff.  I was entertained during those first few ascents and descents to say the least.

Speaking of descents.  Lets talk about going down the hills...that are really like mountains.  I promise they are like mountains.  Normally, I love the downhills.  Who doesn't?  You get to earn the hard work you put in going up the hill.  Except on this race.  Going down was downright scary.  Because, there's steep drop offs on the side of you, and the rocks are loose, and there are rocks, and there's Sotol Cactus (more on that later), and you have to try not to die, and if you fall you might hurt the people behind you and in front of you, and my legs are short and I can't step down as efficiently as some other people.  I didn't like it.  It was not the downhill I liked.  And I think mostly, and I hate to belabor a point.  I didn't trust myself.  Kristofor kept harping on me to "trust my shoes" "trust my feet", but I couldn't.  I sucked at the downhills.  As Kristofor would skip down them from side to side, I was carefully thinking about each step trying not to hurt myself or make a wrong move.  I was scared.  I was scared to not finish.

Ummm. Scary.  

There was no real aid station until mile 10, and by the time we got to it a little over 2 hours into the race, I was starving.  I inhaled 2 pbj squares and drank the nectar of the Gods, Mountain Dew (I promise there is no better during an endurance event), refilled my water bottles and we continued.  The next 5 miles were a little less eventful that the first 10.  Uneventful in that we were actually able to RUN, instead of power hike like we had done much of the first 10 miles.  On these miles we started to separate out from the crowd a bit.  The more experienced had enough juice in their legs after miles 1-10 to start running and making some headway.  Those of us that were bascially 70% spent by the end of those miles did a walk/run combo where you walked up the climbs (there was still climbing...just not as bad), and ran down them (the not bad ones that is).  We struck up conversation with 2 girls that had done a few IMs, we talked at length to a lady who was training for a 5 day Ultra event and was using this as a training day, we shared stories about our lives and our jobs and we talked a lot about our dogs.  And you know what.  It was nice.  It was so nice to be in an event, with no time looming over, just taking the miles one by one.  In fact, I had NOT looked at my watch until mile 14.5 when I really really needed to go to the bathroom and I had no idea what time it was until the dog sitter texted me at 11:15am and I was shocked to have phone service in the hills.  It was so nice to just BE on a race course, not worrying how long it was taking me to get from point A to point B.

By mile 20, everything pretty much hurt.  Knees, feet, ankles, shins, lower back, HIP FLEXORS.  All of it.  As we headed into what is called the 3 Sisters part of the race, the toughest climbs (so they said...) on the last half of the course.  I was starting to get tired.  And then came the Sotol.

There had been Sotol Cactus the whole way, but others had alluded to the fact that there was a part where it just covered the trail and you had no choice but to power through it.  Think of it like a pretty green plant with razor blades on it.  A saw plant if you will.  It will knick you and cut you and make you bleed.  I was wearing thicker tights (I read that this was an issue), so my legs were shielded, but I am so short I encountered another issue.  It was tall up to my face, and a few times it knicked my ears and my cheeks and I was trying to not let it get my hands.  Basically, that stuff sucks.  Cactus sucks.  Running through cactus, sucks.  And the 3 Sisters climb is FULL of pretty views, rocky ascents and descents, and Sotol.  It's everywhere.

Why am I smiling?

Once we came back to the aid station Crossroads, I ran quickly off for a final bathroom stop before our last 5 miles, and then I ate the most amazing DAMN QUESADILLA of my life.  That quesadilla.  Props to Tejas Trails.  That thing, it was so life changing.  So so so clutch.  We headed out to the last part of the course.  4.2 miles to the last aid station, 4.7 from the finish.  Thinking the worst of it is behind us, running comfortably in the surprisingly flat forest area, ready to get it done.

Until.  Well, there's evidently one more climb.  Lucky Peak.  And the ascent wasn't too bad.  I was so lucky to have Kristofor because he helped me up so many steep rocks, waited for me to climb down.  Just like Tough Mudder, sometimes the elements aren't in my 4'9.75" favor. So Lucky Peak.  It's safe to say by that point, I had had it.  We were moving at a 34 minute mile. I was ok climbing, but I can say...AND I have read that others agree, that this is the worst descent of the entire course.  And at mile 30, I was over it.  I didn't have the mental strength as I had earlier in the day nor the physical precision to navigate down as easily (and it wasn't easy for me earlier).  I, for the first time, had to sit or put my hands down to lift myself down the side of the hills, and I was mad.  I yelled "SERIOUSLY BANDERA, REALLY?!", and well, Kristofor told me to stop whining that it was almost over.  And it was, but it still sucked!  We made it to the last aid station, stopped for just a second, we were told we had about .5 miles to the finish and we ran much quicker than we had been going all day all the way into the finisher chute, and we crossed together.

A little over 8 hours of power hiking, climbing, descending, winding our way through the Texas Hill Country.  Definitely not my best 50k time.  But if I'm fair, that was not anything like any of the trail runs I had done before.  Not even close.  Mesquite Fire 50k last year was muddy, but it was flat and not technical in the least.  Lighthouse hill ranch had some steep points, but its steepest pales in comparison to the climbs at Bandera.  And my first ultra could hardly have been called trail.  THIS my friends, THIS was the real deal.  I can now confidently say, after that, I have done a TRAIL run.  If Bandera is trail, then I have a lot to learn before I choose to go further.  And you know what?  I think I'm up for the challenge.  I like the atmosphere and the change of pace.  I also liked that I got 7th in my Age Group.  Not a podium, but I can say I wasn't trying to do that yesterday, obviously.  But I have my medal, and I have my mojo back.

DONE!  And at the OST eating all the food.

I crossed a finish line.  And I feel like I'm in a place where I haven't been in a long time.  I'm comfortable doing me.  It's hard for me to put this in the right words because I would never ever ever want it to be taken the wrong way.  Because I honestly love training and coaching and this last year of going 100mph with everything Team Healey has been some of the best days of my life.  There is nothing like seeing all these people you've coached make their dreams come true.  I love it.  But I lost me.  They say that in order to be a good wife, mother, daughter, friend, coach, etc.  You have to take care of yourself first.  You have to take care of your needs.  When you get on a plane, they say they'll drop oxygen masks and you need to put yours on first.  And I think in some ways this year, I got so busy putting on other peoples masks that I was over here gasping for air. It's such a touchy subject for me to talk about because I'm not resentful or regretful, I've loved doing it.  But I know I couldn't have gone at that pace forever and done the job that I wanted to do.  I want to do the absolute BEST I can do for those that love and trust me with their goals and dreams.  And I don't believe I was doing my best towards the end, because I had so much going on.  And I definitely couldn't do the best for me in all that, because my needs and training weren't getting done how I wanted them.

So I'm in a place where I haven't been in a while.  I'm being a little stingy.  A little selfish.  And I don't like that word, but I don't know what else to call it.  I'm trying to take care of me a little bit before I make any big moves or decisions on what I'm going to do next with my business and my life.  I'm excited to start training some ladies in San Antonio at the end of the month.  And I'm excited to do a 5k with my client Lindsy next Sunday.  I'm trying a little harder to be more appreciative of all the things my husband does for us (like works a job so I can have the luxury of taking my time getting all set up), and I'm trying to really put a lot into learning more through my CEUs I have due and the triathlon training I'm helping with.  Instead of racing through it because its just a number on a list of things I have to get done with.  I'm trying to slow down and breathe for a bit.  And I'm still catching up on sleep, and I started using wrinkle cream because I noticed about mid December that I have them, and I started wearing makeup again, and I started blowdrying my hair a little more. And yes it gets lonely, and yes I miss everyone, I miss my Mom and Dad being there all the time, and yes I feel like I'm missing out on fun things that are happening in the RGV when I see stuff on FB, and I'm looking forward to visiting, and I'm still really scared about how everything will end up here for me business-wise, but I'm hopeful.  And I'm still immensely grateful for all the lessons and the learning and the people and the ups and the downs.

And I'm happy that in the quiet of the hills yesterday, I got to spend 8 hours with my husband climbing and laughing and kind of running and just enjoying life and where we are.  And where we are going. Wherever that may be.

Thanks for cheering me on,
Lacy

The day that wasn't...

I'm sitting on my balcony in Cozumel on my iPhone, so this is likely to be way more brief than other "recaps". Which is fitting, as my long day yesterday was actually very brief itself.

I've been training for this race for 40 weeks. Yes, I did Ironman Texas. But that was my "B" race for 2015. The whole focus was for me to PR here. I had a great race at Texas. I finally conquered my nutrition and ran a marathon in 90 degree sunshine without bonking. And I'm more grateful now more than ever for that day I had in May.

I sacrificed a lot for yesterday. Time, other opportunities. Races I wanted to do but sat out to train better for this race. I spent a lot of money in therapy for my injury all in order to race yesterday the way I had always dreamed. We spent a lot of money to travel here with the plan of making this the best race. And to sit here this morning, medal-less, sore from what I did do yesterday, I can't say it any other way. It's gut wrenching, heart breaking, and I woke up this morning with the worst put in my stomach. The feeling of failure. Not that I'm a failure...but that I failed at my goal. The goal I worked for all year. They say an ironman is all about lessening the failure, and I was powerless to lessen it yesterday.

My Day:

It started as per usual. Breakfast early, the constant dance of trying to make nature happen (sorry!), and the jitters of getting to the start line. It was compounded yesterday by the fact I had never been in a group before. There were 6 of us all feeling the same thing trying to get to the same place feeling the same jitters. It was a little overwhelming at points for me, but I was happy to see everyone excited.

When we finally got to the swim start, nature finally arrived and I decided to line up with Carolina and Alex and not trudge ahead into a faster corral. The swim was super delayed, and for a while I moved away and got lost in the crowd and cried a little. I told a stranger that we had 3 first timers that came with our team and about how far they had come. How happy I was to be here with all of them.

It seemed like forever to start the swim, like an hour passed. Found out later the dock broke so they had to wait to get everyone in. I told a stranger to text my Mom and tell her it was running late and for my Mom to text Jody so they didn't worry about us not coming in.

Finally I was on the dock. The man in front of me fell and I basically jumped over him into the water. Goggles filled up and I had to fix them 3x early on before I could get into a rhythm.

I thought my jelly fish incident was in the middle of the swim but it's apparent on my watch data whe it happened.




Overall I was stopped for close to 6 minutes. I don't even remember that to be honest. I didn't hold on to anything, I wasn't around anyone. I felt like I got electrocuted and it stunned me. But I don't remember being stopped for that long. I didn't know until I downloaded my data last night. But clearly you can see something happened. My only respite is that I was going so fast the last 1/3rd of the swim, even though I felt like I was dragging my leg, I was in the 1:30/100 yards and it wasn't until the last 100 (that you can also see) that I got pummeled by a giant and lost my bearings.

I remember getting out of the water, and I remember asking immediately if Carolina had gotten out bc I was worried about her (turns out she was A-OK). I got into transition and started to try and drink. I thought that my mouth felt funny in the water, but figured it was the salt. And towards the end I thought it was maybe bc the Giant man hit me hard in the neck and shoulder. But as I put on my shoes, I got the sinking feeling that I knew what was happening.

I'm allergic to bees and wasps. People that know me have seen me panic when there's bees around. In fact at the Harlingen Half we were trying to keep them off of me. I once went on a bike ride with Art and Kristofor and got stung in the chest and immediately had to take benadryl and was out for the day. I had never been stung by a jellyfish before.

I scarcely remember talking to Jody and Erin out of t1. But I tried to mount my bike early, I evidently said I didn't know what I was doing and I also broke my xlab bag full of all my nutrition, so as I biked away, I was holding onto the days food for dear life.


I guess my first mistake was stopping at the first ambulance I saw. It wasn't a red med tent, just an ambulance. But I was desperate bc I wasn't able to swallow my Gu chomps bc my tongue was swelling. I knew I needed Benadryl and I had figured if I could get 25mg in me and then another 25mg later that maybe it wouldn't make me drowsy and I could keep going. So I stopped to ask for Benadryl.

3 men and 1 woman were there to help me, but they didn't speak any English. So here I am, just saying "yo tengo Benadryl y antihistamina" over and over, and all I got was some "consulatado el Dr" or something or other and we were getting no where. One of the guys came out of the ambulance with a light to look in my mouth, and once he did he started saying "la lingua" or something or other and the next thing I knew my bike was in the ambulance and I was being ushered in on the gurney next to it.

It happened so fast. So fast. I was pulled out so quick.  I cant stress enough that this was not what I wanted.  All I wanted was Benadryl and to continue.

So there I was in an ambulance in Mexico with 3 non English speaking medics taking a winding trip across the island. All the main roads were closed so it took forever, sirens blazing and I was honestly scared shitless about being there, no one knowing where I was, no money, no phone. Nothing. They got me to the Amerimed Hospital and I kept saying over and over that I just wanted Benadryl (tongue is still swollen here...) The nurse inside tried to take my clothes off and I said no. They tried to start IVS, I said no. Just Benadryl. Finally a "Dr" came in and gave me one Benadryl. They left me alone for about 20 min or so, started to feel better. Then they came in wanting me to pay...I had no money. Then they wanted all my info from home. Finally the "Dr" came in and he said he thought it was not a jellyfish but an octopus???

That's a way better story. I was bitten by an octopus during ironman cozumel.

Finally they agreed to discharge me after more arguing and they called me a cab that I also didn't have money to pay for.


As I sat in the lobby, with my box of Benadryl (I took 25mg more) and my bike, a nurse that spoke English came in and I explained what happened. I could tell she felt sorry for me and the misunderstanding. She let me use her phone to call cozumel palace to try and get a hold of Erin or Jody so they wouldn't worry.

Finally I was in a cab on my way to our hotel, saw Jody and Joe, told them I was ok and Joe paid my cab and that was it.  I was done.

I sat for a bit in the room, no tear yet, almost shock.  I wrote my brief facebook post and got in the shower.  Once the hot water hit my leg, my sting flared up and i could see where it got me on my right ankle and calf and top of foot. Young living oils fix that right up, its almost gone today.

 I went out on the course to cheer but was determined not to let anyone see me, especially Kristofor as to not leave them wondering why i was not out there. Once they were all out on the last bike loop, I went to retrieve my bags and turn in my timing chip.  Kind of a big mistake because once Kristofor got into t2, he saw my missing bag and panicked, i was waiting for him outside the tent.

I told him what had happened and he ran out on the first loop.  Matt from Base performance texted me and told me to meet him at mile 2 of the run course to cheer, and i ran down there, and then ran up to mile 3 to wait for Kristofor.

When i saw him, i knew he was in rough shape, so I jogged the rest with him.  He was so sick.  Sicker than i have ever seen him on a course ...and in 2013 i saw him super sick.  Every 5 minutes he was puking.  Totally dehydrated, so I decided to run the remainder with him. It was kind of therapeuti c to be out there where I had wanted so badly to be.  To feel like i was still doing what i came to do.

Hell, i paid $715 for this race, and I still had my bracelet and my bib...so I was going to run.  My garmin says i did a little over 23 miles yesterday.  Thats all day with running back and forth etc. And my feet felt fine.  I know i didnt do the bike, but Im confident that I would have gotten my 13:30 ultimate goal.

Total yesterday, i swam 2.4 miles, biked 5.44, and ran 23...

I keep thinking theres a bigger reason as to why i didnt get to race yesteday.  I keep thinking there has to be a reason. I was ok yesterday, but this morning with people asking me my time and how it went makes it suck even more.  And when all you want to do is fall apart, its not worth making everyone around you feel bad for having the race they wanted.

But it is humbling.  No one is above a bad day.  And the next time i have a good one and feel like im on top of the world, i would be good to remember that.  Anything can happen in a race that long, and everyone will have days where they are consumed by the what may have beens.

Im going to try and concentrate on the successes i had this season, the fact that my feet still work, that i stand here pain free and uninjured today.  And i may cry a dozen more times and have a bunch more moments.  But im going to try my damdest to be grateful.

Until the next.....

At this point, I may as well just start over....

Hi.  Hello.  How do you do?

My name is Lacy Shea Healey, I'm a personal trainer, running coach, triathlon coach, 3x ironman triathlete, ultra marathoner, wife, semi-midget, daughter, sister, friend, foe.  You get the picture.

And people wonder why I haven't written something this week.....

So for those that are just now following me, and for those that have been following me for years, I've kind of fallen of the "blog-iverse" for the last several months.  Since September really.  If I'm honest, that isn't entirely true.  I've started to write entries a couple of times, but I either 1.  Couldn't bring myself to finish them. or 2.  Couldn't bring myself to ever let them see the light of a computer screen.  So this is going to be it.  My entry back into the blogging universe.

Why?

Well, I just finished my 3rd Ironman and I'd like to tell the story.  And ya know what, people read my blog!  A stranger approached me last week and told me she had spent her ENTIRE evening reading every single one of my posts since the Summer of 2011.  I've had friends and family ask me about it.  And you know what?  I love to do it.  So this is it.  Welcome back Little Ironman that Could....where should we begin?

IRONMAN TEXAS....Part DEUX 

I pushed the button for my second round of Ironman Texas-ness on November 1st.  And I've said the sentence to probably 3 dozen people "Had I known then what I know now...I wouldn't have done it."  Why?  Well, in late November I decided to head out on my own in the personal training/run coaching world.  It was a scary, sad, stressful time right before the holidays.

As my business opened in December, the Holiday hustle and bustle came and went.  I found myself in early January having done absolutely nothing for my training.  In fact, my first week of training I got he flu and wasn't even able to start.  When I did get started in late January, life happened.  Not life like "I got busy and was working too much and sleeping too little" (that was happening...).  But life. Earth shattering, nothing is as important as being with my loved ones, world stopping, cry myself to sleep.  Life.  It's so funny when something so big happens that it makes things that seemed so big seem so small.  But it's actually not funny, its terrifying. When family gets sick. The world feels like it stops.

So my world stopped for a while in January and February.  Wasn't that I didn't have time to train, it was just that I lacked any focus or gusto.  So many other things were more important, and before I knew it, it was March.  And I feel like that is where this Ironman Journey began in earnest.

Main difference this time with training was my style of training.  As I've been around the Ironman block a couple of times, I've learned, just like in marathon training, there is more than one way to skin a triathlete wearing a wetsuit.  The first time, I commenced in the long slow follow every single online training plan recommendation I could find with no guidance.  I did tons of junk miles and high volume. Second time, I was just coming off my first and I just picked up where I left off.  This time....

I was basically coming off a long 6 month break.  I had done Austin 70.3 on 3 weeks of training and wasn't happy with my performance.  And then I just stopped.  So looking at a calendar in March knowing I had little base to build on, I knew things were going to have to change.

Good thing my husband is a Coach!  We eliminated a lot of volume and focused solely on the intensity of my training.  I did a 50k as my "70.3 simulation" (we were out there for 6.5 hours so it was about even for fueling practice...), and other than that, the ONLY running I did was 3-6 milers off the bike at race pace.  I rode the bike trainer at a resistance so high you could smell it burning my tires.  I would kill myself for an hour or two and then run my ass off.  When I swam, I swam fast.  Fast for me...  I only did 2 swims long and slow at the 2 mile mark, the rest were quick 500yard repeats or 2000 yards with my heart rate up.  So basically....I HIIT trained.  I PRed my 5k and my 10k times off the bike in the month of April.  Something with this type of training clicked with me, but the fact that it wasn't proven made me very nervous.  Sure I did a couple of 50-70 mile rides.  But due to time limitations because of work life, family life, and my health, the lack of volume made me sick to my stomach at points.  Overall, I would gather I was giving myself a solid 8-10 hours a week, when in the past I was used to doubling that.

One thing that was spot on throughout.  My nutrition.  I had failed so bad at that before, this time.  My body was an engine, and I fueled it as such.  Gone were the days of the post ride pizza.  Sayonara to the nights where I lost myself in a dozen wings because I "earned it" on my bike ride or run.  I seldomly "rewarded" myself for my training.  I stuck to my plan.  And I went into this race leaner, stronger, and I personally think, more conditioned than I had in the past.  Reason being...my nutrition was ON POINT.  That includes on race week and during the race.  ON POINT.

Bored yet?  That's cool, I'm about to get to the good stuff....

We got to the Woodlands last Wednesday, checked into our house for the week.  Headed straight to Ironman Village.  It's always this sigh of relief to get to Ironman Village.  It's like I'm amongst my people.  Can't describe it.  Love the hell out of it.  Picked up my rad new backpack...

My yearly backpack photo!

We also made our maiden journey to the Cheesecake Factory (don't worry...I "macro-ed" in my dinner...wasn't I just talking about nutrition?!).  It's like Kris and I's mecca.  We can't go to a city that has one without making the trip.  To skip it would be painful.  So we waltzed in and asked for our table for 2.  Behind us was a guy in an Ironman Arizona jacket that asked for a table for 1.  As Kris and I walked to the table, I told him that I would be sad if I had to come to an event by myself.  He agreed, and we sat down.  30 seconds later I said I wanted to invite the guy to eat with us.  Kris agreed, so I went and asked a stranger to come sit with us.  His name was Seth, and we had the BEST dinner triathlon conversation ever.  This sport is so awesome for that.  Strangers instantly bonded over the 140.6 mile journeys we'd made before.  By dinner's end, we had figured out Seth was also friends with our buddies, Doug and Stephanie!  This sport is also very small.  As Seth put it, there's only 1 Ironman in the world this weekend, and it's here in Texas, and 2700 people are doing it.  We inhabit a small small world.  As we finished dinner, I knew we would be seeing Seth around!

Seth, myself and Kristofor at Cheesecake Factory!

Thursday, we had signed up for the Inaugural Ironman Texas "Undie Run".  Now what is this you ask?  In Kona (and at other IM venues), they do a run in your underwear a couple of days before the race to benefit a charity.  We had heard about this on FB a couple days before, and had signed up.  We got to the Goose's Acre on the Waterway where it was supposed to start, in our undies but covered up (who wants to be the creepy walking in public in their chonies?), as people started to assemble and undress, things got interesting.  Right as we stood on the Waterway, getting directions from the Race Director, he asks, "do we have the National Anthem recording", the other lady replied no, so he asked "does anyone sing?" and he kind of chuckled.  I said, "I sing" (I've sang the National Anthem for sporting events before....), and he literally handed me the megaphone, I asked if I needed to turn it on, he said no, I started singing.  In my underwear.  On the Waterway....for what was probably close to 1000 people because there were people EVERYWHERE and I was this chick singing the National Anthem in her underwear.  Most random thing I've done, the video is on FB.  And in a lot of other places as well because I was recognized all weekend as the underwear National Anthem singer.  Never a dull moment friends.  We ran the undie run (2 hot awful miles...), and went home to rest. 

We woke up to get ready for the athlete dinner, and my first panic set in....

I was swollen.  I was swelling.  Badly...

*Side note:  And this is all I will say about this even though I've probably written 8 posts about it but have never posted them.  I have several auto-immune disorders.  I have hyPO-thyroidism.  I have Fibromyalgia.  My body reacts to stress by swelling.  I missed several training days this cycle because my eyes just swell shut and sometimes my chronic pain wins.  Usually I can fix it with meds and drinking tons and tons and tons of water.  But regardless, it happens and the Thursday before the race...it happened....

1pm Thursday at the Undie Run, 6pm Thursday at Athlete dinner, 

some other random time in April that this happened just for effect.

Wow.  Well I'm going to pat myself on the back for posting that (especially the last one).

Moving on....

Athlete dinner was amazing, as usual.  Got home and Amanda had finally FINALLY arrived to start in the pre-Ironman fun!  It was so nice to this year BRING my Ironmates with me, which is why I didn't have to meet any on the course because I brought my own :).  

We woke up Friday, went and did a quick practice swim.  Commenced bag packing and checking, got rained on, went shopping, got the most awful braid job done to my hair possible, took it out while throwing a mini tantrum in the Macy's, went home.  Cooked dinner.  Ate dinner.  Greeted all of our guests and cheerleaders coming into town to support us.  Bought a cake...

Because obvi we needed an #ironginger celebratory cake!

And then we went to bed.

Race morning came super super early.  Jody was a dear and began making pancakes for us around 330AM, and as everyone was up and at em' by 430AM, you could feel the nervous energy in the house.  Carolina braided my hair (it stayed all day!!), and I milled around anxious.  Amanda, Kris and I headed out to the Woodlands first.  We got to transition right after 5, and by transition I mean, Tough Mudder training course.  

It had rained so much in the area on the days before, our bikes were racked above feet of mud.  My "area" being the muddiest.  We had to air up tires while they were racked, and before the race even started, my legs were coated in a thin layer of mud.  Gross.  And it smelled.  Yuck.

We walked the almost mile walk to swim start, I had to pee so bad it hurt.  I handed Kris all of my bags and hopped in the line, but when I got out, I couldn't find him.  First race day freak out.  Find my husband with my swim skin and goggles or you likely can't start the race in 10 min.  Found him, also found a surprise extra spectator, LaHuan, who had hopped a late flight to be there.  So exciting!  We had little time to take pictures and sunscreen before it was time to head into our corrals for the "wave start".  This year, you had to line up with your projected swim time (kind of like at a marathon), and they fed you into the lake that way to reduce congestion.  Seemed to be more organized, still was really congested because Lake Woodlands is narrow.

I lined up at the front of the 1:40-1:50 time group (that 1 hour 40 minutes to 1 hour 50 minutes....).  But then I got chicken shit and as I got closer to the water, I got out of line and went further back.  I did that twice.  Once because I was scared, and once because this chick was totally freaking the eff out and her juju could not be handled.  I finally got in the water about 6:51AM and my day began.

THE SWIM

I fought to have room to the first buoy, which is not uncommon.  Arms and legs everywhere, can't get into a rhythm.  Having to sight every 4 instead of every 6.  Not even able to remotely think about form. By Buoy 2, I felt better.  I swim close to the buoys to stay on course, but that also meant I "Interacted" a lot more with peoples appendages.  I got kick in the ear HARD before the first turn, and as I was heading back toward the canal, I got kicked in the back of the neck.  It was those damn wetsuit people. I was being swum over by a bunch of neoprene wearing animals.  (it was wetsuit optional...the wetsuits started last...but they caught up...).  Annoying.  The canal is kind of a sigh of relief for me even though you have to go a long way.  I just feel like I can speed it up once I'm there.  I also didn't make a super wide turn into the canal this year, likely saving precious time.  Once I started hearing the names being called, I knew it was almost over.  I never looked at my watch. I didn't allow it.  I didn't want to know. (I only swam 61 meters extra on race day...I was stoked about that!)

I had told myself the night before that I would "KNOW" after the swim.  That I would know how prepared or un prepared I was once that was over.  Should I get out of the water past the 2 hour mark, I would probably be resigning myself that this was going to be a tough fought day full of barely making cutoffs and buzzer beaters Ironman Style.  When I got out of the water, and looked at my wrist and it said 1:40...I knew.  I KNEW that Saturday would be my day.  I probably leapt 20 feet in the air I was so excited.  11 and a half minute improvement.  I headed into T1 to greet my Ironmate Linda and get ready for the bike!

Unauthorized Selfie with Linda in T1 with a Payday Bar in my mouth!

THE BIKE

Did I mention Transition was Muddy?  It smelled like cow manure.  And I had to run barefoot through the mud carrying my shoes and socks, then pick up my bike to carry it, then run to the concrete area, wash my feet, put socks on wet feet, put bike shoes on, then head out on the 112 mile bike course.  It was slightly annoying but hell,  I WAS SO EXCITED BECAUSE TODAY WAS MY DAY!  As I got on the bike I saw my cheering squad, and I can say this, I was the happiest I had been in months!

Live in this moment, for this moment  is your life.

As I rode off into the Woodlands humidity, I settled in and just started to enjoy it.  The swim was over. The swim was over.  Once we got out of the city, the bike was breathtaking.  I can't describe it any way else.  Everything was so green and lush, I had a perma smile on my face!  Last year, the first half of the bike gave me fits because of gastro issues.  This year, I made my first stop at mile 10, all was normal, all was good, and I was going SO FAST (for me...), I kept thinking, "if I'm going this fast on the hard part, I'm going to FLY on the back part"...because last year I felt super strong on the last 50 miles.  Time flew by as I raced through the Sam Houston National Forest, passing people, eating and taking my Base Salt (LOVE THAT SHIZZZZ...) as I was supposed to.  I was having a great ride.  No unnecessary potty stops, and I made it to the 56 mile mark about 25 minutes FASTER than I had at the 70.3 distance I did in October.  When I got to mile 60 to our Special Needs bags, I arrived an hour and 20 minutes EARLIER than I had the prior year.  I had BIG HUGE expectations for how the last 52 miles would go.  But I took my time at Special Needs, because hey!  I have TIME!  

In the forest getting all allergied up!

Then we changed directions.  The roads felt newly chip sealed, the wind was in my face, and it was hilly.   The shade of the forest was gone, and we were more exposed.  I was bummed as my mph decreased, but I decided tactically, I had to have a plan.  So I came up with one.

During training, during life in the preceding months, there had been so many things that had made me angry.  I was mad.  I was so mad at some points that I ruined entire days and weekends because you know what, I was mad.  I wasted a lot of time being mad at so many things completely out of my control.  So by mile 65ish, with my mph dwindling, I decided I was going to be mad.  But mad in a good way.  Every 10 miles, I could be mad about something I had been mad about.  I could yell (I didn't...), I could scream (I didn't...), whatever, take it all out...take it all out on the course.  Use that to fuel you, and Kristofor can say, I rarely race better than when something gets me pissed.  So I was pissed.  Pissed at lost time, pissed at lost friendships, pissed at cancer, pissed at my body and insecurities, etc.  I let myself be pissed.  And even though it didn't speed me up a whole lot.  It got me through those miles.  And the rule was, once that 10 mile block was up, I couldn't be mad about it anymore.  I had to let it go.  I can tell you that since last Saturday...I am a lot less angry.

By the time we entered the Woodlands again, I was ready to be off the bike.  There was traffic, and it was hot, and we were close to the traffic (which is annoying....), and the exhaust fumes made my stomach turn, and I just wanted to be off the bike.  As I twisted and turned my way back to transition, I told myself, don't get down...Remember what Dave Scott said "you get to run."

Side note:  At the athletes dinner, Dave Scott, Ironman Champion 6x over spoke to us.  He talked about a lot, but he told us, "don't be afraid to let yourself have a good day, if things are going well, let them go well, don't be afraid to see your potential."  And he talked about how his hardest Ironman, he reminded himself, after a tough bike, that he got to run.  This stuck with me.

So, as I wheeled my tiny Cervelo into T2, mud and all, hot and needing to go to the bathroom.  I was still excited, because, I get to run.

THE RUN

Time must just stop in transition because I felt like I was only in that manure smelling tent for 3 minutes but it was much longer.  I exited as fast as I could, crossed the timing mat, THEN realized that I hadn't sunscreened or eaten or done anything I was supposed to.  So I spent the first mile doing the necessities.  Sunscreen. Check.  Potty. Check.  Pretzels. Check.  Base Salt. Check.  ICE IN MY BRA AND DOWN MY PANTS. Check.  Ok....now I can run.

And I did.  I promised myself I would walk through every single aid station whether I needed to or not. It was very very hot.  And if I was going to run, I was going to have to keep an eye on my core temperature, my swelling (I had already loosened my watch 3 notches on the bike...), and I had to eat.  Since I planned to run RUN, I couldn't eat and run, so I would eat as I walked through the aid stations, drink, ice, etc, but when I was running, I was running.  Usually 9-930 minute miles, I caught myself in the 8's a few times and though Dave Scott said to let yourself have a good day...I didn't want to over do it.  So my miles equivalated to about 11:30-12:30 with the stops.  And I was good with that.  IMTX is 3 run loops and I made myself go to the bathroom once each loop to make sure I could pee so I knew I was hydrated.  And I felt good.  So good.  My legs felt really really good for a long time.  I saw Seth, the guy we had dinner with when I first started the lap, he had had a great bike but was struggling to run in the heat.  I was so tempted to stay with him, but he told me to go on.  Then I saw Sandra at an aide station.  So nice to see familiar faces!  As I got to the back half of the first lap, I knew I was going to see my girls soon.  I use them as my carrots all day, just get to them.  But I got so excited and fired up to see them, I ran past them in a flurry of yelling, excitement, and a billion other emotions, that I got a .25 mile down the waterway and got sad.  Should I go back and hug them?  That was rude.  I just ran by and yelled at my fan club.  Way to go Lacy.  But I pressed on, told myself I would see them on the second loop again.  I saw Amanda FLYING towards me about mile 6, asked her where she was and she said loop TWO.....HOLY CRAP...she was absolutely annhilating it!  She was going to blow this out of the water fo shizzle.  I never ever see Kristofor.  I don't know if this is a good thing or bad thing.

Our Team Healey Fans at their camp for the day!

I asked a guy what time it was as I headed out to lap 2.  It was SO EARLY.  Last year, I ran 2 laps almost entirely in the dark.  This year, it was still dusk when I started my last lap.  The miles just passed this time.  I kept everything even, I wasn't pushing my heart rate but I wasn't loping along.  I got so many so many comments about how focused I looked. 

And you know what...I was focused.  In the past, I've walked so much of the marathon.  I make friends, I talk to people, and that has made for 2 very amazing experiences with some super amazing friendships.  My first IM I would not have finished had I not had Ali, my Ironmate forever from Cozumel, with me.  Is it strange that I can literally feel Ali cheering for me as I run? Its almost like we are connected like that.  Anyways, I didn't make any friends this time.  I just ran, I just put my brain on go and I went.  I had doubted that I would make it under 5 hours simply due to the heat.  But I knew that a sub 15 hour IM was still in my reach.  As I finished lap 2, I calculated my pace and knew that sub 5 hour marathon was probably gone, but I could make it under 15 hours for the day.  So I set out to do that on the last lap.  It was darker so I tried to run more, stopped a little less at the stops.  But the pain had set in.  

By lap 3, I was convinced I had broken my left big toe, or at least fractured it.  It hurt so bad, was throbbing.  Not the nail, the actual toe (Update...theres nothing wrong with my toe).  I'm a forefoot striker, so every step made me grimmace.  My hips got tight and the lingering tightness from the bike ride set into my back.  I had to loosen my watch 3 more loops on the run.  My swelling wasn't awful, but I could feel myself start to chafe more and more because I had run 20 miles in wet clothes.  At mile 23 when I finally saw Priscilla.  I hadn't seen the girls since lap 1 because they were at the finish watching Amanda and Kristofor when I passed by.  She asked me how I was, and I was a bit lonely, but ok.  Then I saw my husband, and I hugged him, saw the medal for the first time, told him everything hurt so bad, and he said "you are almost done"  which I know he wouldn't say unless it were true.  Duh, I had 3 miles to go.  And I took off.  I let myself walk half a mile during mile 24.  I just kind of took in the day for a few minutes.  I gave myself a little moment of slow down where I wasn't busy eating running or icing.  I just walked for a few.  And then I could hear the roar of the crowd, and like every other time, nothing hurts anymore, the world stops for you and that epic moment as you enter the finisher chute, and then Mike Reilly says "Lacy YOU ARE AN IRONMAN" and all is right in the world.

I did my "pose" but this is what they caught on camera :)

AFTERMATH

I'll save everyone the gory details but post race was rough.  I was fine most of the day Sunday, but Sunday night I became VERY VERY VERY ill with fever and stomach pains.  I was sick all Monday and Tuesday and actually didn't eat my first proper meal that I didn't throw up until Wednesday.  Turns out I picked up a virus on the course and it threw me down for a couple of days.  But I'm fully recovered and tomorrow I'll be back to my regular self.

5 weeks ago, I was coming home from work about 8PM, and they were talking about a new song on the radio.  From the moment I heard the first verse, I was in tears.  Sometimes people write things that are so epically perfect to what you have in your head.  It's like someone wrote my thoughts and put them to music.  I immediately downloaded the song, played it when I was down and out about my training.  And on the run course, I heard it as I was coming in to finish mile 24.  

When Kristofor and I were driving around on Sunday, it came on the radio and he looked at me and said "this is so your song"...and I began to cry big ugly awful tears.  Because it is my song. And I told him that I was so so tired because for the first time, I felt like I actually RACED an ironman.  I didn't let my fears about time cutoffs and bikes breaking and running out of gas stop me.  For me, I didn't race conservatively, I didn't finish and say "I could have done better" or "I should have ran"...I finished and knew that I had given May 16th the absolute best that I had.  I know I can do better still, and I know I have a lot to work on.  But for me, last Saturday was perfect.  I wouldn't change a moment, a second, a step, a pedal, or a swim stroke.  I left behind so many things I needed to leave behind on that course, and I'm choosing to believe I raced so strong because I carried the weight of so much during my training, that when I finally did let it go, I was able to fly.  14 hours and 56 minutes of the best therapy I could ever ever ever have.  Last Saturday was my Fight Song, the whole day.

THE END.....

Until Cozumel :)

Well this has been different!

I was going to wait until AFTER Saturday's show to blog about what I've been doing the last 11 or so weeks. BUT, as I sit here less than 48 hours away from finishing this journey, I decided I'd do a little pre-show check in to give my thoughts on what this whole thing has been like, what my experience has meant, and where my heads at.

Soooooo...Saturday, I'll step on a stage.  I'll be all tanned up darker than this fair skinned ginger has ever been tanned.  I'll put on 4 inch heels and a bikini that was custom made for me that barely...and I mean barely covers my backside.  And I'll walk out on to a stage and be judged against other girls that are wearing scarcely nothing as well.  And someone will win, and someone will not.

There are parts of the above that excite me so much I get giggly and goosebumpy and so anxious I have to pee.  And there are parts of it that terrify me, bring out my worst insecurities, and make me doubt my decision to do this in the first place.

Why the excitement?  Well, because I've put in a lot of hard work.  I've spent hours with the weights, even more hours in the kitchen cooking, and I'm ready to see the fruits of my labor.  Why am I terrified?  Well, because I'm epically hard on myself.  I nit pick my body, my progress and my abilities to death when it comes to this sort of thing.  And because especially as the "beauty regimens" of this whole process have come and gone...I've realized that this is so out of my comfort zone that it makes Ironman look like a dream event.

Somewhere in the midst of all of the marathons, triathlons, becoming a trainer and a "workout-aholic"...I've lost a lot of my girly-ness.  Somewhere along the way the last 5 years...I've become pretty low maintenance.  Something no one would have said about me in my younger years.  Don't get me wrong.  I've never been a girl that spent hours getting ready for school or work.  But in the last half-decade, I have changed from someone that used to wear full makeup daily, fix her hair daily, and put at least some effort into her daily attire...to someone that owns very little makeup, I just cut off my hair into a style where I don't even have to blow dry or brush it, and I usually get dressed in the dark at 5am and rarely match.  I feel most comfortable when I'm in spandex, I don't even own a real bra that fits, and I dislike makeup so much, I take it off the moment I can when I HAVE to wear it.

I'm a tomboy.

So Saturday when I'm all dolled up; tanned, makeup-ed, hair primped and fluffed, painted nails and toes that don't look like they just went through a meat grinder, I will probably feel a little foreign.  But hey, they say getting out of your comfort zone is a good thing, it makes you grow.  And I have grown a little bit the last 11 weeks, so I would say this whole thing has been a success.

Post Ironman Texas, I knew competing was something I wanted and needed to do.  It has been an aching and burning pain in me that I didn't finish what I started in the Spring of 2013.  I don't quit things.  And I HATE that I quit on prep.  Although, my reasons were good, I can honestly say that the biggest reasons that I didn't make it to the stage time #1 was because of nagging insecurities and an unwillingness to put myself out there for all to see.  I wasn't ready mentally.  Physically my body told me no, but I think my body told me no so much because my mind was not convinced that I could do this type of thing successfully.  That's a hard thing for me to admit.  I could sit and blame my body for disagreeing all day long, but if I'm true to myself, I know that my mind had a lot more to do with it.

So what's changed?  I hate to belabor the same point.  But, becoming an Ironman this past year really did transform what I'm willing to go through mentally.  I had no choice but to face my worst fears about failure, "not being good enough", and pushing through when your body says "no you can't."  Even though there have been times the past 11 weeks (more times than I would care to admit...probably weekly, daily during the toughest parts of carb cycling and depletion...), I tried my best to face myself and not let the lingering doubts of "you can't do this" get the best of me.  Overall, mentally, I was just more ready to tackle prep this time.

Don't get me wrong.  This has been hard.  I have cried and lost my shit a lot.  My husband should think I'm a crazy person.  Because I am.  And I did want to quit. Even a week ago, I wanted to sink into a chair eating a vat of Velveeta with Frito's and give up.  But I'm better than that.  I know that now. So I didn't let it get the best of me even when I really really really really wanted to.

I think my biggest accomplishment on Saturday will not be whether or not I get the first call out.  Not whether I get a medal (doubtful) or get a "Pro Card" (highly doubtful), it will simply be to be able to walk out there, naked for all to see, and be 100% ok with what I am and how I look.  I could write an entire other blog that would go on for pages and pages about this.  But stepping on that stage and being ok with what I've got will be the biggest accomplishment this process could possibly give me.

And you know what's cool?

No one can give me that ok feeling except for me.  It's not in the hands of judges.  It's not in the hands of my coaches, friends and family that will come cheer for me.  It's not in the hands of the other competitors.  It is my choice and my decision to be 100% ok with me and myself in that moment.  It's up to me.  I am enough.  I've tried my best, and that is all that matters as long as I believe that. If I can make that happen on Saturday, then I have won.

Now someone please remind me of this Saturday evening :)

Thanks for cheering me on,

Lacy

Lacy Shea Healey, you are an Ironman.

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.