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Welcome new triathlete! Welcome to the amazing world of triathlon. And if you’re like me, welcome to the Athena and Clydesdale world. First thing, what is an Athena or Clydesdale athlete? Athena/Clydesdale (or A/C) is a weight-based racing category. It is a category you may choose to race in. No one will ever force you to race A/C. Just like an Age Group, Athena or Clydesdale is its own division and it is often broken up into age groups as well (39 & under, 40-54, 55 & up). To race as an Athena you must weigh in before your race and weigh more than 165 pounds. As a Clydesdale you must weigh in at 220 pounds or higher. Everyone still with me? Great - let’s get going! You’ve taken a bold first step - deciding to train for and/or race a triathlon. It is no small feat, no matter how short the race is. Whether you’re dreaming of Kona or Team USA or just finishing the local triathlon with a smile - all are a challenge. And it’s one that you can rise to. If you take nothing else from this article, please take this: You Belong Here. It doesn’t how big or small you are, what gender you are, what size kit you wear, what color your skin is, who you love, or where you come from. You Belong in Triathlon. You’re already ready for this challenge in the body you have right now. You Belong in Triathlon. In this article, and in the ones to come, I’m going to give you the advice I wish someone had given me when I started out in triathlon. Triathlon is more than just physical endurance. There is the mental and emotional race as well. Not to mention a LOT of logistics and planning. But don’t let that put you off. Follow the advice of those who have come before, tailor it to your needs. Over time it will become second nature and you won’t stress as much about it. For those of us who live in bigger or heavier bodies there are a few, just a few, considerations to think about. I’ll address these as they come up below. What distance should I do for my first race? As a coach I have a rule - I never say no. So if you come to me and say “Kyla, I want to do an Ultra Distance (commonly referred to as an Ironman)!” I won’t say no. I will make sure you race a Sprint or Olympic at least once to get a feel for doing the three sports all in one go. But here’s my advice: if you want to make sure your first race is fun, start with a Sprint. The entry fees are a little lower, you get to support your local race director, you’re done in less than 3 hours, and you still get an awesome medal. Sprint distances don’t require as much training as other distances, which is great for someone starting out and trying to fit all that training into an already full calendar. Sprint races have slightly less logistics to deal with. You’re out there for less than 3 hours, so fueling, while important, isn’t as complex. Transitions can be faster. Before you get too bored riding your bike or out running, it’s over! Once you fall in love with triathlon and are hungry for more, the Olympic (sometimes called International or Standard) distance is there for you to conquer next. And, of course, the longer distances will always be there. Should I compete in a local race or should I jump into a larger event run by a Big Race Company? I love racing in my local races. I know the folks I’m racing with. I get to know the race director, the referees, and the volunteers. They are all people from my community. When I’m at the local coffee shop we chit chat and laugh about race day. I know that my race fees are staying in my community and supporting the local economy. Another awesome thing about local races/Smaller Race Companies is that they have the Athena/Clydesdale category. I should say, most do. There are many folks in the A/C world actively advocating for A/C presence in all races. If you race a USAT Sanctioned Race, the race director is required to have an A/C category. Big Race Companies don’t always have A/C categories. The more you show up and race as A/C, the more race directors know they should support the A/C community. Big Race Companies don’t have to support the A/C community (though they should) because they already have large followings and make more than enough money. What type of course should I select for my first race? Do you like hills? Choose a hilly course! Do you like swimming in the ocean? Choose an ocean swim! Do you like trail running? Try Cross Triathlon! Do you like cross country skiing? Try Winter Triathlon! I choose races based on the course profile; how hilly or flat, type of open water swim, how far it is from my house. I live in a really flat area, so I try to choose flat courses, because that’s what I can easily train on. If you also live in a flat area and can’t find hills to train on, I’d recommend starting with a flat or rolling hills course. If you are scared of open water swimming, choose a race with a calm lake swim, or even better, a pool swim. I live near the ocean, and can train in it every week; I’m not worried about choosing a course with an ocean swim. You’ll have the most fun on a course that you feel prepared for - choose your race based on that. And of course, don’t shy away from a challenging race course, but give yourself the time you need to train for it. If you’ve never done an open water swim and you want to race the Carlsbad Triathlon (in Carlsbad, California) you might want to make some trips to an ocean to get that open water experience. You do not want to try anything new on race day. Where should I get my initial guidance? Who do I ask for advice? Not everyone wants to start out with a coach, especially if you don’t know how passionate you’re going to be about the sport. And a USAT Certified Coach or USAT Certified Club is the best place to get reliable and safe advice. There are a couple fantastic Athena/Clydesdale Facebook groups that were created and are managed by Athena/Clydesdale athletes. These groups are great for gear recommendations, race reports, and making new friends to meet up with at races. There is a lot of information in the world about triathlon, so it may seem overwhelming at first. How can you sort the good from the bad? There is no tried and true method for this. This is where those Facebook groups are fantastic. You can also look on the USAT website for coaches and clubs that say they specialize in A/C. Should I get involved with the local athletic community? Yes, of course! Join a Masters’ Swim Team, find the local Road Runners Club, visit the local bike shop and find out when the group rides are. Surround yourself with folks who love these sports. This is where most of your good advice will come from. If it all seems overwhelming, figure out which sport feels the weakest for you, then go join that community. Not only will it make the workouts more enjoyable, but you’ll make new friends. And nothing gets me out of bed at 5:30am to do a track workout like knowing that my friends are waiting for me. A note of caution: one of the annoying things that happens as an A/C racer is the notion that we’re in it to lose weight. Many A/C racers are in triathlon for fun, for a challenge, for fitness, for the community. Not every A/C racer is looking to lose weight. If you run into folks who address your body size or shape you’ll need to have a quick phrase ready to stop the conversation, if you want to. Folks might try to tell you the “science” behind losing weight to be a faster racer, or the health benefits of whatever diet they are on, or other comments on why you should lose weight. Know that your body is YOUR body and others aren’t allowed to comment on it. When we get involved in our local athletic communities there is more of a chance that we’ll run into someone who will comment on our bodies. But there’s also the chance that you’ll run into your new A/C friend. And together you can change the stereotypes that exist about A/C racers. Should I get a Road Bike or a Tri Bike? This depends on your cycling ability. The bike you’re riding right now is a great bike for whatever triathlon you want to do. If you’re looking to upgrade, start with a road bike. On a road bike you can participate in group rides (often tri bikes are not allowed). Road bikes are easier to get the right fit for. Tri Bikes are high-maintenance, in that they need special parts, are tricky to fit, and need to sleep in a bed with silk sheets every night. Joking aside, tri bikes are great once you’ve developed great riding skills and are ready to go longer distances. One consideration for A/C riders is weight limits. Most bike frames can handle a bigger body with no trouble. However, something to consider is wheels. Wheels do have weight suggestions, and there are several wheel companies out there who make wheels that can handle heavier bodies. Here’s the thing: if weight limits are truly a concern for A/C riders, we’d see each other on the side of the road all the time.And we don’t. We have flats and broken spokes and wonky cranks just as often as non-A/C riders. If you’re looking to get a competitive edge over other racers, if you’re looking to “buy speed” by investing money in a fancy bike, if you’re looking to shave those precious seconds off your bike time - investing in specialized wheels will help with that. For your first races, maybe even all your races, whatever bike, with whatever wheels are on it, is perfect. Make friends with your local bike shop. Find the bike fitter who will listen to you and help you get the right fit. A good bike fit is the most important thing, right after knowing how to change a flat tire. What running shoes should I get? I could write a whole article just about running shoes! Find your locally owned running shop. Make friends with them. Try on all the different shoes. Go for a quick run around the block. Some will feel amazing, some will feel crappy. You want to be able to “feel the ground” as you run. That means giving your toes enough space to spread out and avoiding too much cushioning. If you’ve got larger feet, like me, or if you’ve worn flip flops for most of your life, like me, you may find it challenging to get a pair of shoes that will fit just right. Look for shoes with a wide toe box (like Altra), or those made for wider feet (like New Balance). There are many shoe companies out there. With many innovative new things for your feet. Making friends with the local running store will go a long way to finding the right shoe for you. As an added note, if you’ve got foot or ankle or knee issues, find a sports physical therapist or orthopedist. Ask them to do a run analysis and recommend guidelines for the shoes you should get. The running store may offer a run analysis as well, but if you’ve got past injuries or issues with those joints, it’s best to start with a professional like a PT or Ortho doctor. That is a lot of information! You may need to read this article twice. Or let it all soak in and come back to read it a second time in a few weeks. The most common mistake folks make in triathlon is assuming they need to get everything right now! A new tri kit, a new bike, new shoes, new helmet, new sunglasses, new everything! You don’t need to get anything new! You can do all the things you want with all the stuff you’ve got. Triathlon is an amazing sport and there’s a great community that comes with it. Find your Athena & Clydesdale friends, it’s not hard, and you’ll find friends for life. Kyla Lupo is a USA Triathlon Level 1 certified coach with a Master's in Education from George Washington University. She brings years of experience in coaching people in a variety of situations, including triathlon. Kyla is also a US Masters Level 1/2 certified swim coach and a Roadrunners Club of America certified run coach. As a coach, Kyla believes that anyone can tri in the body they have right now and works with athletes on a personal level to overcome their fear and doubts while getting fit and ready for the start line. Actively advocating for a radical level of body acceptance in sport and society, Kyla started Team Go Big (a USAT certified club) as a place where all bodies would feel welcome and supported. As an athlete herself, Kyla represented Team USA at the 2019 ITU Multisport Championships in Pontevedra, Spain as an age-group Long Course Aquabiker. In 2019, Kyla was a nationally ranked Age Group short course triathlete and finished second in the Athena division at the Illinois Triathlon Championships. In 2021 Kyla qualified for and competed at the Age Group Sprint National Championships in Milwaukee. ​Kyla lives in Central Florida on the Atlantic Coast with the Banana Man, hundreds of board games, 4 bikes, and 4 adorable cats. She is currently training to qualify for Team USA in 2024. You can visit her team at www.teamgobig.life

January 2021 This is the process I used, and continue to use, to create some structure in my life. The video is lovely to watch if you want to work through the process while I talk to you. If you'd rather scroll through the slide deck, I've got you covered: Grab these downloads first- Monday through Friday hourly planner: or Monday - Sunday hourly planner: And here's the link to the video: https://zoom.us/rec/share/q9qOq6lMVfqRrE5-gcOUw5nVDsuPu7W_0acyjobCjmMVO3pz3AMrc0bz7IuC7Rjt.7bNzITWJH9vzz49V?startTime=1611595559000 Finally, the link for making your own hourly/weekly/monthly templates: https://www.worksheetworks.com/miscellanea/calendars.html

My heart is broken. Probably yours is too. ​ Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is a hero to many of us. ​Especially to me, as a woman. A woman who had an entire life before she married at 28. A woman who has no idea what it would be like to not have her own bank account, or credit card, or apartment lease, or ability to make her own medical decisions. I have all of that privilege because of Justice Ginsburg. When she died I was, and still am, beyond heartbroken. And then when the Republicans started in on filling her seat, not even 12 hours after her death, I got mad. I mean really mad. Madder than you have seen me ever. Up to this point, I’d felt heartbroken. Distraught. Aimless. Attacked. Betrayed. Minimized. Now I am FURIOUS. And legitimately scared for the future of my country. I need to speak up. To speak out. To take action.​​ And then I was paralyzed a bit by my anxiety. ​Writing this blog, for example. Am I going to offend someone? What will it mean for my business if I mix my “personal politics” with my business and brand? And then I realized that my “personal politics” IS my brand. ​Who I am as a coach is who I am as a person.  Fiercely committed to equality in gender, sexual preference, marriage, and sport. ​Fighting for a radical level of acceptance of all people in all bodies. My business actually depends on my speaking up, speaking out, taking action. I took a big breath.​​ I remembered an activist friend's recommendation and clicked over to ---> ​https://5calls.org/ Super organized and useful. Make 5 calls every day to your representatives about whatever issues are most important to you. They provide scripts and the phone numbers. It’s straightforward and easy, if you like the phone.​​​ But I hate the phone and talking to strangers. It turns my anxiety up to 11. ​While watching the Princess Bride table read the host mentioned “text banking” right along with phone banking. Hmmmm. Getting the word out without having to talk to people on the phone? Without having to bother someone who may be in the middle of something? Without getting yelled at? I had found my thing. I immediately started researching. For years I’ve been a fan of ResistBot. You text, it does the work. Magic. ---> https://resist.bot/ I started there. And then found ---> https://votesaveamerica.com/ From there I pivoted to ---> https://events.democrats.org/?country=US&is_virtual=true ​Which uses the Mobilize platform. ---> https://www.mobilize.us/ Mobilize is a platform used by many organizations. They provide trainings and events for all kinds of volunteering. I filtered by text banking and found events that worked for me that were sponsored by all kinds of organizations, not just the DNC. Then someone posted on Facebook about Vote Forward ---> https://votefwd.org/ You send mail, real mail!, to voters. They’ve done the research about the right timing. They provide the language and addresses. You add in some of your own words, if you want. Print them out, stuff envelopes, apply stamps, and drop off at the post office. No phone calls! Anxiety free! I also put my money where my mouth is. ​(I know not everyone can do this, and I can. Use your privilege for good.) Get Mitch or Die Tryin’ ---> https://secure.actblue.com/donate/getmitch After George Floyd’s murder I looked for the local Community Bail Bond Fund. “Brevard community bail bond fund” and found ---> https://communitybailfund.org/ (Not exactly related to my most recent rage, and it’s important. You can find your local one too. Google “your-county community bail bond fund”) My goal is to spend a focused hour each day sending out and replying to texts and to mail 250 letters with Vote Forward. My anger still exists. Oh yes. ​And now I can confidently say that I DID SOMETHING. I didn’t sit quietly. I spoke up. I spoke out. I took action. May her memory be a revolution.

I'm a baker. And I eat bread. A lot of bread. And bread can be hard to find right now. And so can yeast. And flour. (Pro-tip, call your local bakery. I bet they are selling their 'extra' flour. That's where I'm getting mine. And I'm supporting a local business.) So I made a sourdough starter (which you can use instead of yeast!). And now we're eating sourdough bread. I'm on loaf 3 (soon to be 4). And each time they have been more delicious. I'm learning as I go. It's been challenging and also fun. I'm a triathlon coach. So why the hell am I doing telling you about Sourdough Starter? Because. That's why. Also, I've experimented and figured out how it works. And I think I'm good at explaining things in ways folks can understand. I'm also a great encourager, and I think that helps my starter grow so well. It's the same skills I use as a triathlon coach. An easy guide to keeping your sourdough starter alive To maintain on the counter, because you're going to use it within 24-48 hours Every 12-ish hours, feed it. Pour off any clearish liquid that's on the top. The rest should be bubbling and alive! Give it a good stir. Scoop out some* and then replace with equal parts flour and lukewarm water, BY WEIGHT. I usually repla ce however much I took out. (Example, I took out 1 cup for pancakes, I replaced it with 113g flour and 113g lukewarm water, which makes a cup-ish). Mix the fresh stuff together first then pour it into your starter and mix again. Put the lid on, loosely. To maintain in the fridge, because you aren't going to use it for a week or more Every week, feed it. Take it out of the fridge. Let it sit on the counter for a couple hours. Pour off any clearish liquid that's on the top. The rest will look very boring, probably. Give it a good stir. Scoop out a little more than half (though leave at least 1/2 cup or 113g) and then replace with equal parts flour and lukewarm water, BY WEIGHT. I usually replace however much I took out. (Example, I took out 1 cup for pancakes, I replaced it with 113g flour and 113g lukewarm water, which makes a cup-ish). Mix the fresh stuff together first then pour it into your starter and mix again. Let it sit for a couple hours on the counter, with the lid loosely on. Then back into the fridge for another week. I've heard legend of folks who don't feed their starter for very long times. It just lives in the back of the fridge. You can do that, but when you want to use it you'll need to take it out and have it live on the counter (with appropriate feedings) for a couple days instead of a couple hours. If you need to know how to MAKE sourdough starter go here: https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/sourdough-starter-recipe And if you want a great no brainer no-knead Sourdough Bread recipe (it's the one we use in my house): https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/no-knead-sourdough-bread-recipe --- *'some' is a relative term. I usually scoop out a cup. Some folks scoop out ALL BUT 1/2 cup. It's up to you. What you scoop out is called "discard." You can use it! Here's some ideas: https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/collections/sourdough-discard-recipes --- Questions? Send me an e-mail at kyla@gobig.life Want a triathlon coach? www.gobig.life Sign up for my newsletter: https://gobig33870.activehosted.com/f/11 Be kind to others. Share your starter. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Help someone who needs it.

Picture it: The Emerald Coast. April. 2019. Because that's what we've got lots of ... pictures. Rather than try to tell you a chronological story of what we did each day and all of that, I've gathered the photos together into groups. Food. Landscapes. Hilarious. Portraits. Race Day. (You can also read about race day here. I won't talk too much about it here. It has been updated and includes photos, if you've already read it once before.) From all of this I hope you'll get an idea of what happens when Vince and I travel. Especially when it's an international adventure. Laughter and tears. Tortilla and Bratwurst. Pulpo and Paprika Peanuts. Goats and Monasteries. Let's start with the best first. Food! Pulpo a la Gallega. This is octopus, steamed, cut into pieces and drizzled with olive oil and paprika. GOOD olive oil. AMAZING paprika. Fresh pulpo. I'm not usually a fan of octopus, but this changed the game. Perhaps it was the freshness, or the delicious paprika, or just that it was cooked correctly. No matter what, I can't wait to have it again. Portuguese Francesinha The ultimate sandwich. Secret sauce (a peppery tomato sauce), bread, cheese, beef, fresh sausage, linguica, york ham, cheese, chorizo, bread, melted cheese, fried egg. Often smothered in sauce. Usually with fries on the side. We found this on the last day we were in Portugal. And it's impossible to find outside of Portugal. We were heartbroken. I loved it so much that one of the two tourist shirts I bought is the 3D split/build of the sandwich. This way I always have the recipe - from the funky artist t-shirt shop in Porto. (shirt by Typographia; Porto, Portugal) The Breakfast of Champions Fresh squeezed orange juice, a fish pie, a ham and cheese pie, coffee, and complimentary corn muffin and churro-like twists. You would think that fish pie isn't a good breakfast, but you'd be wrong. And the coffee was so good. We always sat outside at the sidewalk tables. Watching the world go by. Seafood This amazing cod dish in Porto. At a hamburger place. I wish we had eaten more of this, because it was incredible. It's pickled cod with onions and spices. But it's not sweet pickley. It's salty. And just perfect. Cuttlefish in Ourense, on my birthday. Again, I'm not usually a fan, just like octopus, but it was fresh, and expertly prepared. Drizzled with balsamic and olive oil. Grilled to order. The seafood in Galicia was beyond compare. (They are known for it, I just didn't expect it to be this incredible.) Frankfurt, Germany On our way home, we had 18 hours in Frankfurt. We found an out-of-the-way super authentic German restaurant and ordered the sausage platter and the herring platter. What's so sad is that about 5 minutes into dinner, Vince's food poisoning from earlier in the day kicked in (we didn't see it coming). He ate nothing. I had some of everything, but it barely made a dent. The first time we're in Germany and we can eat the real food of our ancestors ... and he can't. ((We did take the leftovers to go, but Vince wasn't better until we landed back in the US. The leftovers didn't have a chance.)) Other Food of Note The most amazing snack food ever. We bought about 10 bags when we were in Frankfurt on the way home. I'm slowly enjoying them. If anyone goes to Germany and wants to mule some back for me ... I don't remember when or where we had oysters. I just remember they were delicious (as with all the seafood in Galacia)! This is cheese, a soft Galacian cheese. It was as big as my hand. Covered in local honey and 4 anchovies. It was incredible. I didn't even pretend to put it on toast. I just ate it. Parting thoughts in Vigo We stopped in Vigo on the way back north-ish to Santiago, on the way home, and went to the seafood area. You order whatever fresh seafood you'd like from the vendors in the middle and then sit outside at tables or inside at restaurants. The restaurants charge you for alcohol/ drinks and plates. It's a lovely system. And this kind of thing happens. Galicia is rich with Celtic history. Go read and learn. Race Day. Read the full race report over here. Only one comment here: Yes, we did see Queen in concert. It was amazing. Goats in Peneda-Gerês National Park, Portugal We went on a huge adventure in the largest national park in Portugal. It was incredible! Death-defying roads and hairpin turns. One lane around dangerous curves. Amazing vistas. And then, out of nowhere, goats. The hills are alive, with the sound of goats. Kind of funny? This is a bidet, but we couldn't figure out HOW you're supposed to actually use it. It's the same size as a toilet, and the water comes out vertically. We called in the pros (friends who live overseas) and they didn't know either. I used it to wash my feet. It worked really well for that. As seen in the Frankfurt Airport. I don't know why this strikes me as funny. Part of it is that it's in Germany, and it's written in English and Korean/Chinese/Japanese (I don't know which it is). Are we the only nationalities who need to be told that we can only play if we are good? Do all other countries just *know* that you don't sit down at a public piano unless you're good? The first few days we stayed in Pontevedra we were at an AirBnB about 2 miles outside of downtown proper. And the way you walked into town was along the Pilgrims' Trail; the Camino de Santiago (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camino_de_Santiago). Each night we would come home to our private room and meet 5-6 new pilgrims (staying in the hostel section of the house) who were walking from somewhere south (usually Porto, sometimes as far as Lisbon) to Santiago de Compostela. It was incredible to learn about, and amazing to meet so many amazing new people from all over. We learned how to communicate without knowing a common language (hint: bread, cheese, fruit, and coffee are universal). Now that you know the background, here is a photo of a vending machine along the trail. It gets lonely on the road, no matter what road you're traveling. Shopping I love grocery shopping when I'm traveling. Especially if it's outside of the US. Swedish and Portuguese? Yes please! This was by far the coolest IKEA I've ever been to. The layout, the restaurant, the food. It was gorgeous. OMG. Shoes. Of course we stopped. The mall in Frankfurt had a huge tunnel through the middle of it. It brings natural light into the center of the mall and it looks very cool. It is tough to get a cool picture of it, but it looks like a giant optical illusion. And we went to this mall because it had a Lego store. ((Note: this was before Vince's food poisoning kicked in.)) How about a leg of Spanish ham? These are HUGE. We didn't think it would fit in our luggage, or we would have brought one home. You think there is one, maybe two types of paprika? Oh no. There's a million. You could smell this store from a block away. Heavenly. Portraits/ Selfies In Portugal, we stayed at an out-of-the-way fancy hotel that was converted from a monastery (Pousada Mosteiro de Amares). We took our days slow. We spent one driving through the Peneda-Gerês National Park. We spent another hunting down the hot springs in Geres (they were out of order for the season. Some sort of maintenance. We still had a nice adventure.). And we spent a lot of time wandering around the little town of Amares and the monastery. They had a pool table. We are both terrible at pool. We bought a bottle of local Vino Verde and played for an hour or so. We didn't keep score. As usual. (I'm pretty sure I won though.) We got dressed up for fancy dinner at Pousada Mosteiro de Amares. Port from Porto, looking out from hotel room at Pousada Mosteiro de Amares. In Porto, Portugal, at the top of the giant hill, looking down to the river. In Porto, Portugal, looking/ pointing up to the top of the hill where we were. In Ourense, at the public hot springs, on my birthday. Some representing in Pontevedra. They lined up all the flags from the participating countries. It was beautiful. We had pre-arranged transport from Santiago de Compostela to Pontevedra and the driver met us WITH A SIGN WITH MY NAME ON IT. I felt like royalty. The first selfie of our trip, at O'Hare in Chicago. We're still at O'Hare. There was a whole deal about getting to the international terminal that actually wasn't in use, so we had to take a shuttle, with all our luggage and it was annoying. Vince said I looked "cute" and snapped this photo. Traveling We had some time to kill at O'Hare. Of course we played games. Vince took this video as we were walking to our gate in O'Hare. It was pretty cool. On approach into Santiago de Compostela. They call this coast (Galicia on the Atlantic) the Emerald Coast because it's always green. The photo doesn't do it justice. It was breathtaking. Peggy the Peugeot. Our trusty stead for our journey in Pontevedra. We switched to Ronnie the Renault when we started the second half of our journey (to Portugal and such). Welcome to Portugal. The inclinator up the giant hill in Porto. We walked back down, but not up. I had just done an Aquabike ... I was in recovery. Our amazing hotel room at Pousada Mosteiro de Amares. A bathtub! For the first time in our trip. I definitely enjoyed a bath or two. (And yes, this bidet pointed down... The yoga required to use this bidet as intended was even beyond me.) Welcome home. To a 3-hour long wait in customs, for US citizens. This was the hallway OUTSIDE the main room. Pro-tip: don't make O'Hare your first point of entry into the US. Pre-Race Day Again, you can read all about race day here: https://www.gobig.life/post/it-s-time-to-wake-up. These are just a few photos from the day before the race. I went for a dip in the ICY cold river (I cannon-balled in!). I had a quick bike. I went to have the Team USA Aquabike photo taken. I went to the pre-race briefing where they talked about the contingencies for a cold swim, which included delaying the start and shortening the swim (both of which happened). There was no Parade of Nations (the race planners had promised a second one (the first one was a week before. Many of us weren't even in town yet.) but did not deliver.). I got an adjustment with the team chiropractor and got my wrist and elbow taped. All in all a good pre-race day. My birthday The millenium bridge in Ourense. The swoop up and down is a pedestrian walkway. More like an amazing stair workout. It was incredible. Each year on my birthday I take a photo at some sort of historical/ cool/ noteworthy place. It started with my 35th birthday at Notre Dame Cathedral. That's me all the way at the top. And this is the view as you look down from the top. We also went to the hot springs and ate cuttlefish and cheese and amazing wine. It was a great day. Panoramas In the National Park, at the top of one of the mountains we crossed. Before goats. After the dam (below). Daaaaaaaam. From the room at our hotel at the monastery. Porto, Portugal, from the top. The cafe where we had the amazing cod dish in Porto, Portugal. I went out on a scouting bike ride on the course. This is where I turned around; about mile 6 of a 23 mile (total) out and back. I had climbed enough hills for one day. The course was absolutely gorgeous. And challenging. One of the plazas in Pontevedra. Full of old beautiful buildings. Around every corner is history and amazing architecture. The swim course. If you look on the left side of the photo you'll see the fancy bridge that is in downtown. That's where the swim started. That yellow buoy on the right is the turn around. About a mile total. Against the current. With a receding tide. Very cold. It was the hardest swim of my life. We went to Mogor Beach for lunch one day, just outside of Pontevedra. There are ancient Celtic rock carvings there; petroglyphs. Again, full of history. Go learn about it. The pickup center for Tri Bike Transport. You can't see too well, but all along the left side is just bikes. Probably a couple thousand. From all over the US, Canda, Mexico and the UK (and a few other countries). It was so very cool. What was awesome was saying "Yes. She's the one with the rainbow spokes." And everyone knowing exactly who Delores was. Another gorgeous plaza and old church in downtown Pontevedra. Simply Beautiful Let's end this story with some simply beautiful things we saw. The Catedral de Santiago de Compostela. The place where all the pilgrims are journeying to. It was a rainy day when we were there, but somehow the fog just adds to the magic of this place. By the time we were there tours had closed, however I know we'll be back. The Azulejos tiles from Portugal. Each was individually painted and fired and then assembled. The level of craftsmanship and attention to detail is astounding. And al done by hand; no computers here. Up the mountain from Geres (the hot springs) on the edge of the National Park. It was quite the drive to get up here. One-lane-but-not-really-because-there-were-cars-coming-down-as-we-were-going-up winding road with very steep hills. So much fun. The Celtic rock carvings/ petroglyphs at Mogor Beach. THE bridge in Pontevedra. The one it's known for. Also, the swim start for the race. The view from our AirBnB in Pontevedra (the one along the pilgrims' trail). It was really a cool place to stay. This photo is at about 5:30pm. The sun set around 9pm. It was a quite the interesting time switch. I'll leave you with this. It was a public installation along the major walkways in downtown Pontevedra. Photos of female athletes; regular ones, not pros. It showed women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The text alongside the photos was inspiring. All around the globe women are fighting for representation and equal access to sport. To see something like this, to see a celebration of women, here, at an international event ... it touched my heart. It gives me hope.

For me, this season started last year. Actually, it started 2 years ago, when I went to the first ITU Multisport Festival with my friend Ellen, who had qualified to compete in the World Championships for Long Course Aquabike. That was when I realized that that is what I wanted to do. I wanted to cross the finish line at the World Championship level. If you want to hear that story (of the World Championships, that I did qualify for, and did go to, and did cross the finish line, sort of, you can read it here: https://www.gobig.life/post/it-s-time-to-wake-up ) Here's the short version of what happened along the way: I trained for a 70.3, which meant also training for a half marathon. Which meant healing for real an old nagging hip issue, which meant healing an old knee issue. So I did that. Physical therapy for months. I did three half marathons. On the third one I couldn't get my knee to cooperate. So I changed my plan of action. Because I had one clear goal: To cross the finish line at the World Championships in this body, with these thighs, and this butt and this belly. To wear the colors of my country and show up in all my Athena gloriousness. To show the world that you can be an athlete at any size. And I couldn't run a half marathon. I pivoted. I decided to compete in the Aquabike (swim then bike). Because finishing at the World level was more important than finishing a 70.3. (I promised myself there would be time to finish a 70.3. This wasn't the year for it. Keep my eyes on the goal.) We know the rest (see above). I competed at MiamiMan. I spent the winter training hard for swimming and biking. I took a good long break from running. So when I showed up at Athena Nationals in June this year in Chattanooga I had no idea what was going to happen. I hadn't run more than 2 miles in a very long time. I knew I could finish, no matter how much I had to walk. I knew I could finish. I went hard and fast. And a funny thing happened. I LOVED IT. This endurance girl, who's body was built for long and steady and medium pace, PR'ed her swim, PR'ed her bike and set a new PR for average bike speed and ran/walked the 3.1 miles with NO PAIN. Could I start running again? Could I be a fast and short kind of endurance athlete? My plan for returning to MiamiMan in November to do the Long Course Aquabike again (and try for a PR) suddenly seemed ... not fun? I had also planned on racing 4 times in 2019. Great Clermont in March, Pontevedra in May, Athena Nationals in June, MiamiMan in November. I needed to know if Athena Nationals (the short course, the sprint) was a fluke, or if going short and fast was actually a thing for me. I found 4 more Sprints to do. And changed my MiamiMan registration to the International distance. I still needed an end of season race. I needed a goal to train for; I know myself. I started run training again. It felt good. No knee pain. No hip pain. And, surprisingly, I could run constantly. I didn't need to run/walk. I did take walk breaks, but they were short and far apart. Running was fun! Who knew. Then some other things happened. One of our cats got sick very suddenly. (As a side note, she is doing much better.) And I had to miss one of the International distance races I had signed up for. And I thought about my team. And what it would mean to show up at MiamiMan as 100% a coach; to not race. And that felt GOOD. I found a race the weekend before; in Cocoa, Florida. Just up the coast. I asked Banana Man if we could go early to Florida. He enthusiastically agreed. I kept training for MiamiMan, and talked with MY coach (yes, I have a coach. Why wouldn't I have a coach?) to adjust my plan for a race a week earlier. I also wanted to set some time based goals. Finish in less than 3 hours and 30 minutes. Run consistent 13:45 miles. Push it hard on the bike to maintain 15-16 miles per hour. Sight really well on the swim so I didn't swim any extra distance. These were all doable goals. They would force me to stay on top of training and follow my training schedule. Halloween came so quickly. We packed up the car. (Holy crap we have a lot of stuff. Holy crap *I* have a lot of stuff.) I showed up race morning. I gave the race everything I had. Every bit of me. I followed my race plan and fueling plan to the letter. And I earned First Place Athena Overall. And I stood on that podium filled with SUCH joy. What an amazing finish to an EPIC season. I also finished in 3 hours and 29 minutes. I swam pretty straight (I think the course was measured a little longer than 800 meters). I averaged 15.9 miles per hour on the bike (despite crazy headwinds with no complimentary tailwinds, and deliciously tricky rolling hills). And I ran an average mile time of 13:43, that also earned me a PR for a 10K. Where there places I could have been faster. YES YES YES. Did I have fun? YES YES YES. And what did I learn? That's it's ok to change your PLANS, as long as you stay focused on your GOAL. Even when there are setbacks you can pivot, you can change, you can adjust and still get to your goal. ((Also, being on the podium is such a special thing. I have earned it 3 times in all of my racing. I never strive for it. I strive to be better than I was last time. And standing up there, for all the world to see, in all of my glorious authentic Athena self, to hear the crowd cheering ... there is simply nothing like it.))

“There has never been a sadness that can’t be cured by breakfast foods.” -Ron Swanson This was going to be a good long blog post about depression. And how it sucks. And how bipolar is really difficult to manage when you’re an athlete. Shit, it’s hard to manage when you’re a regular human just trying to get through regular life. Here’s the thing: I don’t want to talk about depression. At least not right now. I don’t want to talk about how it took my life off the rails for a month and a half, right in prime gorgeous summertime. I don’t want to tell you that I didn’t go to the gym or the pool or get on my bike for almost 3 weeks because I. JUST. COULDN’T. Because right now, I’m doing great. I’ve changed my meds, stopped any alcohol (it wasn’t a lot to start with, and I don’t think it was an issue, and I want to make sure my brain is firing like it needs to) adopted a strict bedtime and wake up time ritual and written little notes to myself that remind me that I’m not broken; I’m a human on a specific journey. I also want to be clear: food makes me happy. I eat when I’m feeling all my feelings, sad, happy, excited, anxious, joyful, tired. I don’t eat to numb those feelings. I eat because I love to eat. And, sometimes, that eating makes me feel better. Case in point: breakfast is my favorite meal, foodwise. You know it’s a special day in my house when either: 1. We’re going out for a real proper fancy breakfast, or 2. We’re having breakfast for dinner. So on the mornings when I’m not sure how I’m going to feel I make waffles. We got a little waffle maker just for this. And we have instant Kodiak Cakes mix. I’m not sure how many bad days have been averted by those waffles, and I don’t care. Ron Swanson and I might not agree on everything, but when it comes to food, we often do. And also Leslie Knope, because whipped cream and waffles is maybe the best. So I’m not going to talk about depression today. Because I don’t feel like it. And if you need someone to talk to about depression, I’m here. And here are some great resources: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 (TALK) They also have a live chat website: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/ You can text The Samaritans: (877) 870-4673 (HOPE) You’re human. You’re not broken. And you’re not alone. We love you. No matter what any of us might say, there are folks who love you. And if you come to my house, I’ll make you waffles. Then we’ll go on a bike ride. I can't promise that that will fix anything, but the waffles are really tasty and riding bikes is fun. So at least for a few minutes, there will be some joy. And sometimes, that's all it takes. A little bit of joy.

The dream I dreamed is over. And before it fades from memory I’m going to try to tell you about it. It was an amazing dream. Better than I could have ever imagined, but not without its nightmare moments. I got what I wanted and I didn’t. More than anything I learned a lot. I learned that showing up, despite all the odds, despite all the warnings, despite all the fear, despite all the negative talk, despite all the distractions, is already winning. I learned that jumping in the cold water is winning. I learned that climbing the first hill is winning. I learned that climbing EVERY HILL is winning. That knowing when to stop is winning. That laying down when your body says to, is winning. That screaming with joy on the downhills is winning. That stopping to hug someone who needs it is winning. That DNF’ing is winning. I gave the course every single ounce of myself. When I crossed the bike finish line I had literally nothing left. While that is something all athletes strive for, the issue here was that it was a dangerous nothing. A very dangerous nothing. But let’s go back to the beginning. On the morning of the race, at 7am, they shortened the swim to 1500m (from 3000m) and pushed the start by 35 minutes (for my wave). For the record, when they took the temperature the air was 9C and the water was 14C. There is a lot of other technical triathlon stuff that also got mushed around, but the long and short of it was now I had 3 hours until my wave started. Also it was cold. We went back to our hotel to stay warm and continue eating. ((My goal was to eat 100 easily digestible calories every 20 minutes until 30 minutes before my wave started. I wouldn’t normally eat that many calories, however, the water was SO cold that I knew I’d be burning almost twice the calories I would normally during the swim. I loaded up.)) Long story short, we got back to the swim start and the line for the TWO bathrooms that were accessible in the swim start area was 25 minutes long. I ended up at the back of the line for my swim wave and when I jumped in the water I had exactly one minute before the gun went off to get from the dock to the start line buoys. I barely made it, though I don’t know how. I didn’t notice the cold as much this time. Nerves, vaseline, my offering to the river goddess, who knows which of it worked. I did breathe every single stroke the entire swim. I never got into my 3 or 5 stroke breathing that I often do. After 25 minutes I wasn’t at the turn. I was exhausted. I felt like I kept slowing down. And I kept moving. There were still people behind me, so I knew I wasn’t going to get pulled out. I made the turn and headed back in. The first 750m took 28 minutes. The next 750m took 10 minutes. Later I would learn that the current had gotten progressively stronger as the swim waves started. My wave was second to last, and the current was at its strongest. The water was at its lowest. Essentially, my fellow female aquabikers and I had the hardest swim of everyone. When I got out of the water the stairs were much higher than they had been at any of my practice swims because the water was so low. I cut my foot open and scratched my hand (but didn’t realize it until the next day). I could barely pull myself out of the water, partly because of the very slippery and pointy rocks, and partly because I was exhausted and frozen. Once I was out I unzipped my wetsuit top, grabbed a bottle of water and poured it all over me. It was warm (from being in the sun, and in comparison to the water I had just come out of) and it helped jumpstart my core warming up. I walked easily, letting my body calm down and center itself. In the transition tent I changed into bike gear. I opted not to put on sunscreen (MISTAKE) and left my arm sleeves behind; I wasn’t very cold, surprisingly). Running in bike shoes is the worst, so I walked quickly to Delores. We headed out to the bike mount line, and before I knew it we were off. Through the streets, around the university and up the first big long hill. There’s always an initial joy when I head out on my bike, and during a race it’s no different. Add in the adrenaline from finishing the swim and being “halfway done” and you had one very happy Kyla. For the first loop I was all smiles, even when I was grinding up the long slow hills. And if you heard someone screaming with joy, well, that was me, because the descents were INCREDIBLE. I hit a new top downhill speed: 42.3mph, though it sounds way awesomer in metric: 68.08kmph. YEA. I wasn’t even trying. I used the downhills as a way to spin effortlessly and recover from the uphill climbs. The hills were brutal. And I climbed every single one. Slow, steady, continuous. Every. Single. One. There were two very very technical and dangerous U-turns. They were at the bottom of hills (or the middle), on narrow 2-lane roads, so you had to watch your speed, then look behind to see if anyone else was coming. I unclipped because having one leg sticking straight out on the inside of the turn helped (and I would be ready to put a foot down if I needed to), U-turned, and then had to grind back up the hill. Starting from scratch. Very very tough, mentally and physically. And I did it successfully, 4 times. That's probably my second biggest achievement from this race (the first being that I climbed every single hill). I headed back into town and stopped at Special Needs to refill my liquids. It was then that it hit home that I hadn’t eaten anything on the first loop. Yikes. My fluids were warm; I was warm, the initial sunburn was settling in. I didn’t know it then, but I was on the edge of a serious bonk. And I couldn’t find Vince. I looked at my watch and realized I had done the first loop in less than 2 hours. Oh shit. I was ahead of schedule. Yea and boo. I wolfed down a waffle, asked the special needs volunteers if they had seen a giant banana (no they hadn't) and headed back out. I cruised out of town, through the university and climbed the first long hill again. And around mile 4-6 at the top of another long climb I stopped. I knew it was a good flat place, so it would be easy to start up again. My legs weren’t doing what I asked them too. My hands were shaking. My brain was very foggy. I had enough brain wattage to know that I needed to stop and assess the situation. Several race support vehicles stopped. I told them I was OK, no I didn’t need an ambulance, no I didn’t need a ride. I was fine. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. Some cyclists passing asked if I was OK. “Yep, just taking a moment!” Then my friend Jimmy stopped. Full stop, unclip, foot down. “Kyla, you OK?” Thank god for sunglasses because that simple act of kindness, from a friend, in the middle of a foreign country, with no familiar ground to hold onto, with the world spinning in my head, with my body feeling so disconnected… that was what I really needed. Something to ground me. And knowing that Kona-qualifying Jimmy had actually stopped to check on me? I was weeping. “I’m fine. Really. Just taking a moment. Go win this race Jimmy.” He said something about how that wasn’t going to happen, in a joking manner. He might not have won this race, but he certainly is a champion to me. Another race official stopped and suggested I go sit in the shade, and reminded me that the aid station was only 2km away. I laid Delores down, carefully, and sat down on a concrete block in the shade of a tree. And I sobbed. Just a good old fashioned body shaking, snot faced, mascara streaking, howling sob. I ate a few bites of the various things in my feed bag. I drank almost en entire water bottle of Tailwind. And I decided that I wanted to see the reservoir one more time. I wanted to scream down those super windy narrow dangerous curvy hills one more time. I wanted to ride the last long downhill one more time. I wasn’t shaking anymore, so, 25 minutes after I initially stopped, I stood up, picked up Delores and went back out on the road. I saw the reservoir. I rode the curvy exhilarating hills. I stopped to hug a woman from Great Britain who had broken down and was waiting for a ride back. I offered a hug, water, snacks, whatever she needed. We shared an amazing moment, hugging and weeping, on a backcountry road in the middle of nowhere Galicia, Spain. United by the love for our sport and the aim to be the best we could. She sent me on my way and I saw the SAG van coming up the hill; she was taken care of. As I was riding down the last big hill, about 3 miles away from the start of the third loop, I saw the sweep vehicle following the last rider. I had missed the course cutoff. I had already decided that the smart thing was NOT to go out on a third loop; I still hadn't fully recovered from the bonk. I didn't know it, but at that point I had already burned 2600 calories and only eaten something like 500; it would have been irresponsible and dangerous. But seeing the actual reality that I COULDN’T go back out, that tore me apart. I cruised through town one last time, loving the cheering and support from the crowd. And I turned right to head back into transition and the finish line. Smiling and weeping. My race was done. 18 months of focus on this one moment, and I had missed the mark by 23 tiny miles. As I unclipped I fell onto the dismount line judge. He caught me and I kissed him on the cheek. I managed to stand up straight, but my back and legs and entire body was in agony. I looked around for Vince, but he was nowhere to be seen, again. I smiled for the actual finish line photo, and even laughed a bit. It was glorious to be done; and it was agonizing to be done. Somehow I walked the 20-30 steps into transition with Delores, and then someone took her from me (but not before I gave her a big hug and kiss and thank you). And I took 5 more steps and collapsed to my knees. I unhooked my helmet and held my head in my hands and cried. And there were no tears. Because I had nothing left. I rolled over to my back and somehow managed to take off my bike shoes and socks. And I just laid there, roasting in the sun, crying. Of course volunteers came over to check on me. And I managed to squeak out that I was ok; “no ambulance.” After 10 minutes or so I pulled myself up to my knees, and slowly to standing. I hobbled into the transition tent and found my bags. I jammed everything bike into the ‘street clothes’ bag and put on my sneakers. In a daze I wandered out to the Finish Line they had created just for Aquabikers. I was going to get my photo taken, damnit. It was the one thing I wanted. I NEEDED. Even though I didn’t finish, I wanted a photo under that arch. Proof that I was here. The photographer wasn’t there. And no one knew when he’d be back. And I still couldn’t find Vince. I was crying again. Nothing was going the way it should have. And I was exhausted. I got my medal and decided I should go find Vince. I don’t remember how I found Vince, other than I ran into Lisa, and another Z supporter and they pointed me towards the pavilion. On the way there I ran into a Anne’s mom and she let me borrow her phone. “You’re not going to be able to yell at him very well through a text.” Apparently I had indicated I was very angry with him. He answered, I communicated, we connected. When I saw him I completely fell apart. By now I had had some fluids, so the tears and snot were back. The rest of the afternoon was a haze. Somehow I made it to the medal engraving place and took care of that. (Proudly displaying a DNF instead of a time). I had Portuguese donuts. I nabbed a can of soda so I could take a hilarious finisher photo (it didn’t work). I got my finisher shirt (soon to be altered). I found my friend and teammate and took a great photo with the US flag. I gathered my gear from transition and Vince and I hobbled over to TriBike Transport so Delores could catch her ride home. We stopped for a few photos. We ended up back at the hotel, somehow, and I showered. We ate something, and then we went to my favorite pulpo place for dinner. We went to the closing concert: Queen (rather the best Queen cover band EVER. They win awards.). And I sang We Are The Champions at the top of my lungs. We went to bed at 1 in the morning. The next morning I woke up. We went to breakfast in the hotel. We walked to the laundromat and did laundry. I talked with Vince about the race, the first time I had really spoken about it. He listened with love. We decided that before we headed out to Porto the next day, we’d go drive the bike course; so he could see what it was really like and so I could get in my third loop. It was a quiet day. Slow moving (it was also Sunday). Filled with introspection. When we finished driving, the next day) he said he was glad he had no idea what it was like, otherwise he would have been very worried when he didn’t see me. I reminded him that I’m a strong cyclist, and that if I do die while out cycling, my gravestone should read: “She died doing what she loved: screaming down a hill.” — People in the general Team USA group on Facebook were complaining left and right about the course and how it was “too hard.” Others talked about how they were glad they “decided not to show” because it was so early in the year or “too hard.” And I showed up. I didn’t let the course intimidate me. I was worried about the cold water, and I didn’t let that stop me. I was worried about the hills, and I didn’t let that stop me. Even though I spent 2.5 weeks benched in the four weeks leading up to the race, it NEVER occurred to me to not show up. In my darkest moments of doubt there was never a thought that I wouldn’t show up. It wasn’t an option to not race. That wasn’t a choice. I had to show up and give it everything I had. And that’s what I did. Yes, I DNF’ed at the World Championships. And still I won, simply because I showed up and gave it my all.

If you had said to me 6 years ago, “Kyla, the day will come when you’ll get dressed, eat toaster waffles and bacon with Nutella and head out into the rain to run your third half marathon” I would have laughed at you. And yet this morning, that’s what I did. I tucked myself into bed. I heard the heard on the roof. I woke up at 3am to pee. I heard the rain on the roof. I woke up at 5:30am and heard the rain on the roof. I got up and made coffee and heard rain on the roof. Waffles toasting, rain on the roof. Nutella spreading, the crunching of the waffle underneath, the drip of the coffee maker, rain on the roof. Maybe I would skip this one. Maybe just do the 5K and call it a day. “What if it rains on race day?” I packed two pairs of socks in a ziplock bag. I got my biking rain jacket. I put on long running pants (for the first time in a few months). A USAT hat instead of my visor. “What if it rains on race day?” We piled in the car, I cranked some tunes, I sipped my coffee and walked myself through my race plan. 3 walk/run intervals per mile. That would mean a 13:30/mile. If I followed that, I would PR. If I pushed, just a little at the end, I would come in under 3 hours. Totally doable. Stay on top of hydration and nutrition. Huma gels every hour, at the top, Skratch and water throughout. Top off at every aid station. Gatorade if you feel like it. I had a plan, a good plan. Sticking to it would be easy. As we drove, the rain got worse. Maybe I should do the 5K. I could do it twice. Even three times if I really wanted to. It would be a good training day, nonetheless. It would keep me close to home base. If I got too cold or the rain was too much, I would never be more than 1.5 miles away from warmth and dry. “What if it rains on race day?” As we pulled into the parking lot it hit me light a bolt of lightning. Your goals have changed. Finish Don’t get hurt PR. I would do the half. I would give it my best shot. I would stick to my new plan. Running in the rain is tough. Your feet can slip, the ground gets gross, there are puddles to avoid. It can be treacherous. I left my phone in the car. I left my headphones in the car. This race was going to be a mental race. I needed to be able to hear my body. To listen to my body. Since goal #2 was don’t get hurt, I needed no distractions from whatever my soaking feet would be saying, my aching knees, my tired back, my strong heart. I needed to hear them all. We got a late start since we thought the race started at 8:15, not 8am. It was no worry, everything was chip timed. It was just a bummer that I *started* in last place. That meant a huge battle to get to not-last. As I passed mile 1-ish I ran into a wonderful woman who was walking. We chatted. Turns out she went the wrong way. She was supposed to do the 5K, and just followed everyone else who was doing the half. We laughed and talked until we hit mile 1.6 and then she turned around. What a lovely experience, and a nice way to get warmed up as she was walking a lot more than I was. Shit. She was walking a lot more than I was. I was off my goal for PR’ing already. It wasn’t even mile 2. Your goals have changed. Finish Don’t get hurt PR. I took a deep breath, shuffled up the first giant hill and figured I’d make up the time somewhere. At mile 3.3 I looked at my watch. 51 minutes. I had 9 minutes to go .7 miles. I could do that, as long as I kept running for the whole .7 miles. So I did that. And finished the first 4 miles just under 58 minutes. Whew! Then I did the math. Shit. That meant a 15min/mile. Crap. I was going to have to pick up the pace. I talked myself up. I had to climb two hills. I slowed and talked with that wonderful woman for a mile. Of course I’m off. That’s OK. There’s time. I’ll make it up. And also, the universe reminded me: Your goals have changed. Finish Don’t get hurt PR. I settled into a nice rhythm. The “clean everything up after the last runner” cart was slowly crawling behind me. They stayed far enough away that I barely noticed them. When I could hear them, and it started playing with my head, I pretended that I was actually at the lead. And they were my escort. I laughed at this and fell right back into a rhythm. The wind was awful. I felt like it was always gusting in my face. And driving little pellets of rain into my skin. It was painful at times. And then the road curved and wandered through a forest. Trees lined the road, a babbling brook laughed and gushed next to the road. There was no wind. The rain was a mist. I listened to the wind in the trees. Felt the mist on my face, heard the birds singing, the creek gurgling… I laughed at how beautiful all of it was, this stretch. And how I would have missed it if I had been wearing headphones or carrying my phone. I would have tried to take a photo, or a video or something to capture it. Instead, I let myself sink into it. I turned my face to the sky and felt the rain. I skipped. I laughed. And then I turned a corner and the wind almost knocked me over. And the trees were gone. And I was back to real life. And the soybean fields. Around mile 8 my left knee (which has been giving me problems ever since I fell off my bike in March) started talking to me. “I’m at a 4, Kyla. Just so you know.” OK. I filed it away. 4 out of 10 wasn’t bad. And it wasn’t a stabbing pain. More like a dull ache. I stopped a few times over the next half mile and stretched. Somewhere before mile 10 there was a downhill and the first step I took over the top my knee started screaming. Well shit. I wasn’t about to run down the hill, but now I can’t even walk? New rule- limp down the downhills, run the flats and hills. Stay on the intervals, unless it’s a downhill. My time had been slipping, and I was at a 15/min mile. If I hustled just a bit, I could still PR (come in under 3:13:13). And then my knee said I don’t think you’ve been paying attention: Your goals have changed. Finish Don’t get hurt PR. And you know what? I’m changing it again. Don’t get hurt Maybe finish I slogged through the next mile limping on the downhills, running and walking as my body said to. My pace had slowed tremendously. I knew this. I didn’t have to look at my watch. I hit mile 11 and my knee was done. So I walked the last 2.1 miles. In the rain. And the cold. And the wind that almost knocked me down more than once. Finally, I saw the banner for mile 13. I tried a little run, just to see if running down the finishing chute was going to happen. 3 steps. Pain jumped to 8. NOPE. I sped up my walking until the pain was at a 6. As I turned the corner to head down the finishing chute I couldn’t help myself and I ran. The pain jumped to 8 almost instantly. And then there was mud, and puddles and I slowed down, not to walk, but to avoid stepping into a knee-deep mud puddle. At one point I full on stopped to think about which way to go. The pain in my knee was at a 10. I bit my lip and ran across the finish line. And stopped moving. Vince was there, banana suit and all. I asked for ice or the med tent. Neither existed. I grabbed some chocolate milk, a banana, a granola bar, and my medal. I could barely walk, and there was no choice but to keep walking. Through unstable mushy ground. More than once I twisted my ankle just enough that pain went shooting through my knee to my hip. I made it inside. Vince had gone to the bar and grabbed a bag of ice, since there was no med tent. I limped to a chair at the table where our friends were waiting. I collapsed into the chair and iced my knee. I wasn’t tired. My body wasn’t tired. My heart and lungs weren’t tired. My knee had called all the shots. I had plenty of gas in the tank; my nutrition was on point, breakfast was fantastic, I was well hydrated. My knee was unhappy with all of it and took over. Around the table, over glasses of wine and chocolate milk, stories were told of the rain and the wind and the mud. One friend got 3rd in their age group. Another had a PR. Vince got 2nd in his age group. I finished. I finished last. For the second time. In one season. I’m beginning to question what this means. I’ve not blamed myself for being out of shape, or too fat, or too slow. Each last-place finish had its glory or its pain. Each last place finish is a badge of honor. I was last so someone else didn’t have to be. The universe thinks I’m strong enough to handle it. I’ll rise up into that responsibility. New goal: every race I finish, I’ll finish with joy, with a smile on my face.

In the world of triathlon there is a tradition of writing a race report after each race. You spell out what your goals were, if you achieved them, what worked, what didn’t, etc… It serves as a reminder to yourself for your next race, but also as advice for other athletes. At least, that’s what I take it to be. I’m sure for some folks it’s just all about bragging, which is also OK, because there might some of that in this report. I’ve written two race reports. This is the big one. It is filled with goals and times and strategy and what worked and what didn’t, as well as emotions and philosophical thoughts, wanderings of the mind and all the times that I cried (spoiler alert, it’s 2. Might be a new family record for crying during a triathlon.) If all you’re interested in is times and goals and strategy, may I suggest you click over to the Rock Hall Sprint Race Report. It’s will be just the facts and nothing but the facts. Maybe 1 joke. No emotional stuff, and certainly no crying stories. I won’t be offended. Promise. For a real treat, you can read both. Ladies and gentlemen, those of you who don’t identify as either, aliens, cats, dogs and other sentient creatures, I present to you the Rock Hall Sprint 2016 Race Report Goals: My goals were very “philosophical.” It wasn’t about times, it was about following the advice of those who came before and staying sane. 1. Finish, legitimately. That meant coming in under 2.5 hours (the only time related goal). 2. STAY IN ZONE 2! 3. Don’t get thirsty. 4. Stop/slow down if it hurts. 5. Be confident in transition. First we’ll break apart the goals, then we’ll get to the story telling. Goal 1: I finished legitimately. With a time of 2 hours 21 minutes and 34 seconds. A Personal Best! Swim- 19:05. I finished 6th in the Athena division. This is slower than I thought it would be, but the marina was really choppy and I fought the current the whole way out. I had to breaststroke to be able to keep on target with the buoys and to be able to breathe and not drink salt water. Once I turned the outer buoy and started heading in, I was in good shape. An excellent negative split (that means the second half was faster than first). I averaged 2:26m/100 yards; about 20 seconds slower than my pool average. But a Personal Best overall! By contrast, when I did the Jim McDonnell Lake Swim, my time was 41:46 for 1.18 miles; an average of 2:10m/100 yards. But that swim was a walk in the park compared to this swim. Lesson- I need more open water practice. In the story part of this report we’ll talk about how nervous I was. Bike- 1:07:21. I finished 17th in my division. This is much faster than I thought I would do. I was calculating an average of 10mph, but this turned out to be 13.1mph. What a difference no big hills makes! Another Personal Best! Not for pace, but for a bike leg in a triathlon. The course was nice and flat, but the few rolling hills there were really messed me up. I’m so used to shifting for big big hills (and killing them), that when the littler hills came up, I mis-shifted and ended up spinning like a dervish and wasting momentum. Lesson: Practice on flat and rolling. Not every training weekend has to be Haymarket and Culpepper (or weekday at Haines Point)! Run- 45:33. I finished 15th in my division. Oh running. What a fickle beast you are. I averaged a 14:50min/mile, but at one point I was flying at 9:37. Can you guess when that was? Yes, the last .3 mile when I was crossing the finish line. I’ve been plagued with a hip injury since November, and I had a bike accident just three weeks ago. The combination of the two led my left knee (the good one!) to start acting up. My physical therapist said that if my knee or hip started to hurt I HAD to stop running. Period. I could walk and see if it got better, but if it didn’t, no more running that day. Same went for my hip. My hip was a trooper; she didn’t bother me at all. My knee started acting up around mile 1. And that really slowed me down. Then it was run/walk for the whole course. However, I estimated I would take 45 minutes on the run, and I did. Not a Personal Best for a 5K, but a Personal Best for the run leg of a triathlon. Transition (the fourth sport of triathlon)- T1- 6:12 minutes. I finished 17th in my division. This transition included a run from the dock over to the transition area. This run/walk took me about 1 minute. Once I was at my bike I followed my steps (that were printed out and clipped to my transition crate) almost to the letter. Dry off my hair and a little of my body, sunscreen (which I did skip), put on my helmet and sunglasses, dry off my feet, put on socks and shoes, put on race bib, get bike, get going. What slowed me down was trying to get my feet dry. I think I have to just deal with moist feet in bike shoes, especially if it’s humid. T2- 3:21 minutes. I finished 14th in my division. Again, I followed my list. Rack bike. Take off helmet, put on sunscreen, put on hat, take off shoes, put on shoes, pick up water belt, start walking and put on belt. Kill it. This was a good transition, but I know I could shave off 30 seconds or more but getting some Yankz for my shoes. I don’t like them for running, but I think I’m going to have get used to them; in a rush, I don’t think I tied my shoes tightly enough, and that made my uncomfortable for a bit. I know Yankz will help with that. I’ve also got to get rid of my hydration belt. That thing was a pain in the ass. The bottles kept falling out when I was putting it on. I’m currently searching for a replacement concept. Goal 2: I was unable to keep myself in zone 2. At least according to my watch and my pre-loaded zones. I think that now I’ve been doing zone training for 6 months, it might be time to get retested. And I think my bike and swim are different than my run. Looking back at my swim, I was in zone 4 (you can’t see it during because water and bluetooth and transmitting don’t all play nicely together). But I wasn’t tired (other than from fighting waves), and I wasn’t out of breath when I finished. I feel like I could have gone another mile. Which is the big indicator of being in zone 2 (that you could go forever and ever). Once I got on the bike I was in high zone 3. I kept my RPM at 80, but put things in an easier gear and breathed really deeply. I smiled and sang a little, and I got back into a high zone 2. Then I upped the gears a little so I felt like I was working instead of cruising, and I ended up into low zone 3. Crap. But I felt GOOD. I felt like I could go forever. So I stayed at 80 rpm and right around zone 3.3. On one or two of those rolling hills I found myself dervishing and then had to make up for it I shot up to zone 4, but on the “downhill” I brought myself back. On the run I never got below zone 3.6, except for the half mile when I walked near the end. No matter how I tried, once I started jogging/running I shot right up into high zone 4. Even when I walked, unless it was for more than 3 minutes, I couldn’t keep it down. I told myself I was almost done, and gave in to a high heart rate. I stopped looking at my watch and started listening to my body (and my knee). Goal 3: I did not get thirsty. After seeing people barely making it across the finish line on Saturday (the humidity and surprise heat were killer), I added Nuun to my water for the bike ride. I also had Skratch, and I swapped in the Margarita Shot Blox (which have extra sodium). I killed this goal. I was never thirsty. I followed my hydration plan. I also had a BIG pee after I finished. A great sign that I did that right. Goal 4: As I noted in the run section above, I stopped when my knee hurt. I also adjusted my swim when my shoulder started to hurt; it was because I was getting lazy and not keeping my form up, but still. The big problem was that my hip didn’t hurt while I was running. But it did after, and for quite a few days. Somehow I have to find a way to listen to what it’s telling me during the race. And keep up my “Glutes of Steel” workout. Goal 5: I felt great in transition. Really really great. They weren’t fast, but they were right. And now that they’re right, I can work on fast. One slightly emotional note to the “Just the Facts” report. I take it very seriously that when I’m in my kit representing a team, whether it's Team Go Big or my coach's team, Team Z. If I am rude, mean, disrespectful or otherwise a terrible person while I’m wearing the jersey, that reflects on my team. On the flip, if I am upbeat, encouraging, kind and thankful that also reflects on the team. I love Team Z a hell of a lot. And I want us to be known for a good long time as the amazing folks we all are. So I went a little out of my way to be the most encouraging athlete out on that field. Everyone who passed me on the bike or run got a cheer of encouragement. Every volunteer and police officer got a Thank You. The cheering and energy I got back from all of it more than made up for it in the long run. I had SO MUCH FUN. This race was my litmus test. To discover if I liked training, if I liked competing, if I wanted to make my life about triathlon. And the answer is a very loud and resounding YES. I’ll be around for a while. I’ll be out on the course cheering whether I’m racing or not. You won’t be able to get rid of me. Kona, here I come. Now let’s talk about the race and how I felt. The touchy-y feel-y stuff. Go get the tissues. I’ll wait. You can’t say I didn’t warn you. On Saturday I had the chance to go out on the course and cheer all my teammates during the International/Olympic distance. I put on the banana suit (incorrectly, but still fashionably) and walked around the swim start with a bag and collected my teammates flip-flops. I also scoped out the swim start. This was all good. I met one of my friends as she came out of the water and handed her her cane and shoes. She recently had knee surgery, so she needed these things to make it to the transition area. This allowed me to see what the swim actually looked like, up close, as well as the exit. This was SO fortunate because I had an idea in my head of what the exit would be, and it was NOTHING like what it actually was. Steps, yes, but the last step was a big one. And they had volunteers there pulling people out of the water. I watched as people slipped on the deck, fell down with major muscle spasms in their calves and generally has a SUPER hard time getting back on their feet. This would not be me; I had a plan. I would get my legs working in the last 100 yards and be ready to pop out and go for it. We also went out to mile 16 on the bike course and cheered everyone going by. What a great feeling! I need to figure out how to do this as my job, because I LOVED it. Everyone was super happy to see someone out on the course, ringing a cowbell, blowing a vuvuzela and shaking some pom-poms. Many people thanked us for being out there, and after the fact so many people came up to me (from my team and not) and thanked me for cheering them on. Wow. Just wow. I got to see that the bike course had no aid stations (which I already knew), very few volunteers directing traffic and that it was open to traffic. In my head, I expected that there would be a rolling road closure so we wouldn’t have to worry about cars. I realize now how silly that would be, but still. At the intersection where we were cheering cars were turning left across bikers. And cars were jerks. At least twice I was very scared for the bikers. This helped my brain prepare for a mentally challenging course, since I would be sharing the road. The same was true of the run. No roads were closed (save for one that was runners on both sides, and it was only for a block or two) and the traffic direction was only half of what I thought it should have been. Fortunately running with cars is slightly less scary than biking with cars, to me, so it wasn’t awful. Here’s the big thing about all of this: it’s my first triathlon. Maybe this is the norm and I’ll get used to it. Having run a LOT of races in the past 18 months though, I found the lack of on-the-course support at this race staggering, compared to my experience with running races. Sunday morning we went out to the dock/swim start. Vince put on the banana suit (correctly AND fashionably) and collected flip-flops. I looked out over the marina and started to panic. Waves. Wind. Strong current. NOTHING like Saturday. I started to cry. Honestly, I don’t know if it was excitement (yayayayay race!), joy (wow, look how far I’ve come!), panic (holy shit the waves), abject terror (someone got stung by a jellyfish yesterday and now I’m going to die) or Aunt Flo and The Hormones showing up to join the party. I kept my sunglasses on, even after I put my cap on, so no one would see the tears. I had a quiet reassuring moment with Vince where I really let loose. He had words of love and encouragement and looked hilarious in the banana suit; it helped. Then I was in the water. In a sea of women and pink caps. Treading water nervously. Almost regretting not wearing a wetsuit (I’m glad I didn’t. I got hot without it, and it would have been one more piece of gear to wrangle. And an annoying one at that. And the water was 77 degrees.). And I looked around and realized how strong and brave each and every woman was that was in the water. And maybe they needed to be reminded of it. When I need to find my strength, I succeed by helping others find their strength. So I cheered all of us. “We got this ladies!” “Yeah, let’s get it!” And everyone started cheering too. And my nervousness melted away, mostly. But man, I wish they had been playing “Girls” by Beyonce. It would have been perfect. Take note future Race Directors and DJs. And then the race started. Breathe every stroke. Sight the buoy. Breathe every stroke. Sight the buoy. Adjust course. Don’t get kicked in the face. I started doing breaststroke because the waves and swells were not consistent and I couldn’t get a good rhythm for breathing, sighting and surfing. Breaststroke allowed this, as well as constant sighting, which turned out to be important because of the current. As I was going along I passed a few folks who were treading water. I asked them if they were OK. One guy didn’t have goggles and I asked if he’d like my spare pair. He declined, saying he didn’t need goggles. What a beast! Most everyone was just fine. I helped one person grab the attention of a course monitor/boat/canoe so she could hang on and get some rest (she was having trouble treading water and getting her hands up. I reminded her to lay on her back and try, but I also threw my hand up). I turned the outer buoy (wow, the waves were intense at this point) and started in. Aside- Saturday night I went to the pre-race briefing. It being my first race; I wanted as much info as I could get. Someone asked about the swim course and a pair of orange buoys we were to swim through. The Race Director said “Forget about those buoys. Once you round the outer buoy, just sight the dock and head straight in.” Excellent. Less sighting means more winning. But not everyone was at the pre-race briefing. And you couldn’t hear at the immediate pre-race briefing. And I don’t think they talked about it, honestly. So I rounded the outer buoy and headed straight for the dock, a large portion of my fellow racers were headed towards an orange buoy that would take them unnecessarily off course. So the crowd I was swimming in really thinned out. Which helped with folks trying to draft off of me and my sighting. I had a clear view to the dock. I put my head down and got into my freestyle rhythm of choice. Counting strokes: breathe, two, three, breathe, five, six, breathe, sight, nine. Over and over. I slowed a few times to breaststroke to adjust my sight (the current was pushing me to the right), but otherwise I rode it all the way in. About 150 yards out I started breaststroking again, but really shaking my legs and getting a lot of blood and movement back into them. When I got the dock and got out, I only had to pause for about 2 seconds once I got myself out of the water because my legs felt strong. I walked the first part on the dock, then began a nice jog towards the transition area. I was feeling great. I had been concerned about getting light headed (especially after the concussion), but I honestly didn’t even think about it during the transition jog. Just at the end of the dock, Vince was standing with a sign, “Sorry Mario, your race is in another format.” I laughed so hard. What a perfect sign for this race. In the transition to the bike I rinsed my face and my mouth. I could not get my feet dry. My socks were not going on correctly and it was frustrating. It’s probably because it was humid, and I probably just need to let go any hope of having actual bone dry feet at the start of the bike. By the time I got back and switched shoes, my feet were dry though. And wet feet while running would be far more of a problem than while biking. I had a great bike ride. Lots of people passed me and to each and every one I said “Good job! Keep it up!” I think I missed maybe one person, but that was because I was having a conversation with someone who was passing me (who was complimenting me on my beastly calves). Every Z’er that went by got a “Go Team Z” and some of them I knew by name, so I cheered them by name. All the DC Triathlon team members got a “Go DC Tri!” A lot of people said thanks, a lot of people gave me encouragement too. Every volunteer and police officer and course person got a big Thank You! And many of them said thanks back. It all made for a great ride. I sang some songs, I danced in my seat. I stretched my legs. I ate my nutrition with glee and wished for a real margarita. I realized I have a drinking problem. I can’t pull my water bottle out of the back carrier and drink it with my left hand. Somehow I hadn’t practiced this. I’ve got holders in between my legs, and I knew I could switch the left handed back bottle to a middle holder and then be able to use my right hand exclusively. I had a plan. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Mr. Bean? Imagine he’s in a bike race and has to switch his bottles around. It was like that. So freaking funny. But I did it. And I sort of learned how to ride for a few seconds at a time without holding on to the handlebars. I had plenty of time to contemplate life, its problems and some possible solutions. A cardinal visited me several times. It’s possible it was the same cardinal, but it’s more likely it was 4 different cardinals. So to all my dead friends and family, thank you. I saw you, I heard you. You helped. You are always welcome to visit. I also had plenty of time to embrace the agony of my vulva. Aside- I will not call it “lady parts” or “down there.” I will call a vulva by its anatomical name, because it’s important that women take charge of their bodies and know that they can discuss their vulva and its pain from a bike seat, just as they would discuss their calves and its pain from a crappily paved street. There is little difference. I need a new bike seat. This is so very clear to me now. My vulva “hangs” and they make seats for that. The tri pants I was wearing have almost no padding, so relying on that cushion was not going to happen. And I don’t want to have to change pants in transition. You can’t be naked in transition in the United States, and you shouldn’t wear underwear under bike or run shorts. So I’d have to rig up some sort of changing room thing, or use a towel, or a James Brown-esque robe. I also need a seat that doesn’t rub my butt bones/joints as much. Look for a more positive vulva report after the next tri (July. Rev3 Williamsburg. Twice the swim, twice the run, almost twice the bike. #excitedbutterrified) Around mile 11 we rode into a portajohn. Not literally, but it smelled like it. Holy Shit. I mean, for real. Someone had just freshly turned their field with manure and so many people passed me because they just had to get out of it. I was committed to energy conservation, so I muscled through, but towards the end I sped up a bit because I couldn’t take it anymore. I was enjoying a chew as I started into it, and I had to spit it out. It was that strong and that gross. Vince was at mile 13 with a vuvuzela and some pom-poms (but not the banana suit). Afterwards he told me that people were so excited to see him out there, and they recognized him as the banana man from that morning. I’m going to have to buy him his own banana suit, just in case the Team Z one goes missing. Because this is now his role at all races. For the last mile or two I put my bike in an easy gear and spun. I stood up and eased my coccyx/sacrum into a not-sitting position. I stretched my calves and my quads. I followed the advice from those who came before, and remembered my coach’s wise words. I rode in from the bike and dismounted. I can’t do this gracefully yet. So it was a full stop and clipping out and jogging into transition. One of these days I perfect a flying dismount, but that day is not going to be anytime soon. I have got to find a solution for my hydration belt. I walked/jogged out of transition and there was Jason in the banana suit with a vuvuzela. He was blowing and running and finally said, “I can’t keep this up!” I thanked him and laughed and started trying to find my run legs. It was painful. It was like I’d never run before. Like there was concrete in my calves. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get three miles done. I’m sure you could see it on my face, because a random woman standing on the side of the course said “You can do it girl. Find those run legs. Squeeze your butt, bounce off your feet, lean at your ankles and find it. You got it.” It was like my physical therapist was right there. I did what she said and within 2 minutes I found my legs. I don’t know who this person was. I think she was walking a dog so maybe a resident of Rock Hall out to enjoy the festivities. Whoever she was, she saved me. I came around the first corner, and there was the team, cheering their hearts out. That gave me a needed mental and emotional boost to keep going. Not that there was any doubt I wasn’t going to finish this, but still. I started walk/running because my knee was acting up. I followed my goal and stopped/slowed down when it hurt. Every person who passed me got a “Good job! Keep it up!” As people came back the other way, same thing. Every volunteer and police officer and course person got a Thank You. Same as the bike ride. It’s hard work doing what they do, and many do it as a volunteer job. At mile 2.25 I saw a woman in front of me who was walking. I jogged up to her and asked if I could walk with her for this last mile. We walked and talked; it was amazing. I can’t remember her name, but she had some piercings and an Elon shirt and she was funny and fun. At around mile 2.8 you could hear cowbells. And cheering. And I said my goodbyes to my walking friend and took off. At the last corner I saw Vince. I ran up to him, kissed him something fierce and then sprinted off to the finish line. I was running so fast. My knee was screaming and I ignored it. I turned it all the way on as I came down the chute. I couldn’t hear anything but the screams and cheers of my team. I heard the announcer call out my name and bib number, but only barely, because the Z’ers were SO LOUD. I got my medal and a cold wet towel. Both felt amazing. I wandered around the finish line and headed back to the Team Z tent. I realized I was alone and realized I needed a moment to myself. I took the opportunity to have a seat in the grass and cry. I can’t tell you what I was feeling. Pride? Joy? Exhaustion? Overwhelmed? All I know is that it felt amazing, sitting in the grass, cold towel on my face, tears streaming down my cheeks. It felt real. I felt more connected to myself emotionally, mentally and physically than I have in a long time. Then I stood up, walked into the team tent, hugged everyone and poured myself a beer. I drank that beer in about 10 minutes (Personal Best!) and stood at the finish line cheering for another hour or so. I had a big pee at some point. I ate a sausage (so delicious) and later about a pound of grilled chicken. The last person finished and the whole team was there cheering. She wasn’t even on our team. That’s how Team Z rolls. We cheer everyone. When things started wrapping up I grabbed all my gear and we headed to our rented house. We stopped at the grocery store and got freezer pizza, tater tots, cookies, Klondike Bars, and BBQ potato chips. We spent that afternoon in bed (so I could relax my hip) drinking a celebratory bottle of wine and eating all that food. I slept like a rock, wearing my medal, and dreaming of the podium at IronMan Kona.

In the world of triathlon there is a tradition of writing a race report after each race. You spell out what your goals were, if you achieved them, what worked, what didn’t, etc… It serves as a reminder to yourself for your next race, but also as advice for other athletes. At least, that’s what I take it to be. I’m sure for some folks it’s just all about bragging, which is also OK, because there might some of that in this report.I’ve written two race reports. This is the big one. It is filled with goals and times and strategy and what worked and what didn’t, as well as emotions and philosophical thoughts, wanderings of the mind and all the times that I cried (spoiler alert, it’s 2. Might be a new family record for crying during a triathlon.) If all you’re interested in is times and goals and strategy, may I suggest you click over to the Rock Hall Sprint Race Report. It’s will be just the facts and nothing but the facts. Maybe 1 joke. No emotional stuff, and certainly no crying stories. I won’t be offended. Promise. For a real treat, you can read both. Ladies and gentlemen, those of you who don’t identify as either, aliens, cats, dogs and other sentient creatures, I present to you the Rock Hall Sprint 2016 Race Report Goals: My goals were very “philosophical.” It wasn’t about times, it was about following the advice of those who came before and staying sane.1. Finish, legitimately. That meant coming in under 2.5 hours (the only time related goal). 2. STAY IN ZONE 2! 3. Don’t get thirsty. 4. Stop/slow down if it hurts. 5. Be confident in transition. First we’ll break apart the goals, then we’ll get to the story telling.Goal 1: I finished legitimately. With a time of 2 hours 21 minutes and 34 seconds. A Personal Best! Swim- 19:05. I finished 6th in the Athena division. This is slower than I thought it would be, but the marina was really choppy and I fought the current the whole way out. I had to breaststroke to be able to keep on target with the buoys and to be able to breathe and not drink salt water. Once I turned the outer buoy and started heading in, I was in good shape. An excellent negative split (that means the second half was faster than first). I averaged 2:26m/100 yards; about 20 seconds slower than my pool average. But a Personal Best overall! By contrast, when I did the Jim McDonnell Lake Swim, my time was 41:46 for 1.18 miles; an average of 2:10m/100 yards. But that swim was a walk in the park compared to this swim. Lesson- I need more open water practice. In the story part of this report we’ll talk about how nervous I was.Bike- 1:07:21. I finished 17th in my division. This is much faster than I thought I would do. I was calculating an average of 10mph, but this turned out to be 13.1mph. What a difference no big hills makes! Another Personal Best! Not for pace, but for a bike leg in a triathlon. The course was nice and flat, but the few rolling hills there were really messed me up. I’m so used to shifting for big big hills (and killing them), that when the littler hills came up, I mis-shifted and ended up spinning like a dervish and wasting momentum. Lesson: Practice on flat and rolling. Not every training weekend has to be Haymarket and Culpepper (or weekday at Haines Point)!Run- 45:33. I finished 15th in my division. Oh running. What a fickle beast you are. I averaged a 14:50min/mile, but at one point I was flying at 9:37. Can you guess when that was? Yes, the last .3 mile when I was crossing the finish line. I’ve been plagued with a hip injury since November, and I had a bike accident just three weeks ago. The combination of the two led my left knee (the good one!) to start acting up. My physical therapist said that if my knee or hip started to hurt I HAD to stop running. Period. I could walk and see if it got better, but if it didn’t, no more running that day. Same went for my hip. My hip was a trooper; she didn’t bother me at all. My knee started acting up around mile 1. And that really slowed me down. Then it was run/walk for the whole course. However, I estimated I would take 45 minutes on the run, and I did. Not a Personal Best for a 5K, but a Personal Best for the run leg of a triathlon.Transition (the fourth sport of triathlon)- T1- 6:12 minutes. I finished 17th in my division. This transition included a run from the dock over to the transition area. This run/walk took me about 1 minute. Once I was at my bike I followed my steps (that were printed out and clipped to my transition crate) almost to the letter. Dry off my hair and a little of my body, sunscreen (which I did skip), put on my helmet and sunglasses, dry off my feet, put on socks and shoes, put on race bib, get bike, get going. What slowed me down was trying to get my feet dry. I think I have to just deal with moist feet in bike shoes, especially if it’s humid. T2- 3:21 minutes. I finished 14th in my division. Again, I followed my list. Rack bike. Take off helmet, put on sunscreen, put on hat, take off shoes, put on shoes, pick up water belt, start walking and put on belt. Kill it. This was a good transition, but I know I could shave off 30 seconds or more but getting some Yankz for my shoes. I don’t like them for running, but I think I’m going to have get used to them; in a rush, I don’t think I tied my shoes tightly enough, and that made my uncomfortable for a bit. I know Yankz will help with that. I’ve also got to get rid of my hydration belt. That thing was a pain in the ass. The bottles kept falling out when I was putting it on. I’m currently searching for a replacement concept. Goal 2: I was unable to keep myself in zone 2. At least according to my watch and my pre-loaded zones. I think that now I’ve been doing zone training for 6 months, it might be time to get retested. And I think my bike and swim are different than my run. Looking back at my swim, I was in zone 4 (you can’t see it during because water and bluetooth and transmitting don’t all play nicely together). But I wasn’t tired (other than from fighting waves), and I wasn’t out of breath when I finished. I feel like I could have gone another mile. Which is the big indicator of being in zone 2 (that you could go forever and ever). Once I got on the bike I was in high zone 3. I kept my RPM at 80, but put things in an easier gear and breathed really deeply. I smiled and sang a little, and I got back into a high zone 2. Then I upped the gears a little so I felt like I was working instead of cruising, and I ended up into low zone 3. Crap. But I felt GOOD. I felt like I could go forever. So I stayed at 80 rpm and right around zone 3.3. On one or two of those rolling hills I found myself dervishing and then had to make up for it I shot up to zone 4, but on the “downhill” I brought myself back. On the run I never got below zone 3.6, except for the half mile when I walked near the end. No matter how I tried, once I started jogging/running I shot right up into high zone 4. Even when I walked, unless it was for more than 3 minutes, I couldn’t keep it down. I told myself I was almost done, and gave in to a high heart rate. I stopped looking at my watch and started listening to my body (and my knee). Goal 3: I did not get thirsty. After seeing people barely making it across the finish line on Saturday (the humidity and surprise heat were killer), I added Nuun to my water for the bike ride. I also had Skratch, and I swapped in the Margarita Shot Blox (which have extra sodium). I killed this goal. I was never thirsty. I followed my hydration plan. I also had a BIG pee after I finished. A great sign that I did that right. Goal 4: As I noted in the run section above, I stopped when my knee hurt. I also adjusted my swim when my shoulder started to hurt; it was because I was getting lazy and not keeping my form up, but still. The big problem was that my hip didn’t hurt while I was running. But it did after, and for quite a few days. Somehow I have to find a way to listen to what it’s telling me during the race. And keep up my “Glutes of Steel” workout. Goal 5: I felt great in transition. Really really great. They weren’t fast, but they were right. And now that they’re right, I can work on fast. One slightly emotional note to the “Just the Facts” report. I take it very seriously that when I’m in my kit representing a team, whether it's Team Go Big or my coach's team, Team Z. If I am rude, mean, disrespectful or otherwise a terrible person while I’m wearing the jersey, that reflects on my team. On the flip, if I am upbeat, encouraging, kind and thankful that also reflects on the team. I love Team Z a hell of a lot. And I want us to be known for a good long time as the amazing folks we all are. So I went a little out of my way to be the most encouraging athlete out on that field. Everyone who passed me on the bike or run got a cheer of encouragement. Every volunteer and police officer got a Thank You. The cheering and energy I got back from all of it more than made up for it in the long run. I had SO MUCH FUN. This race was my litmus test. To discover if I liked training, if I liked competing, if I wanted to make my life about triathlon. And the answer is a very loud and resounding YES. I’ll be around for a while. I’ll be out on the course cheering whether I’m racing or not. You won’t be able to get rid of me. Kona, here I come.

It was a gorgeous Sunday morning. Sunny with a cool breeze. A great spring morning. I had just finished a fun open water clinic with my favorite swim coach. I was all set to ride my bike for 1.5 hours and then take a nice 30 minute run. My first real brick (bike then run) workout, a great chance to practice transition, and a good practice for nutrition planning and hydration. It was a brisk day, so long pants and a jacket were called for. I clipped in and was off. There was a pretty strong headwind so I figured it would be better to go 50-55 minutes out and then 30-35 minutes back, since it would be easier on the way back. Plus, if I went just a few minutes more I’d be at Green Lizard. They could take a look at Rosie and figure out where that crazy clicking was coming from. They did take a look and I had a nice 15 minute break. She was still clicking, but the gears shifted much smoother now. I decided not to head back for the clicking. I’d just come back out in the next week or so. I was feeling good; the headwind was now a tailwind and things were just peachy. I passed a few pedestrians, always calling out “on your left” and then thanking them. I was in Reston and going down a nice hill under a road. I saw a woman up ahead and I called out. Within a split second she decided to turn left and cross the trail, right in front of me. This is the last memory I have. It’s burned in my brain. I’ve spent hours thinking about it and trying to figure out what happened next. Here’s what I know about that image. She was holding something. She was wearing headphones. Her head was down. She did not look before she turned to cross the trail. She was standing two steps to the left of the middle line. The next thing I remember is Vince’s voice saying ‘I love you’ on the phone and hearing the ambulance sirens in the distance. Then the next thing is a female EMT asking me all sorts of important questions and asking me to move my feet and legs. She was so kind. Somehow the EMTs put on a cervical collar and rolled me on a backboard. Then I was in the ambulance. The female EMT asked me who she could call. I told her not to call my mom because she was out-of-town. I knew Vince didn’t have a car, so I asked her to call my father-in-law (who lives in Springfield and has a car). He didn’t answer. So we called Vince. He was already on his way. At the time I couldn’t figure out how he knew; the details and timeline were sketchy until I started thinking it through later. It was because we had already called him, of course. The male EMT put in an IV, and I didn’t even notice. In what felt like minutes we were at the hospital. Then things got really interesting. But I don’t remember most of it (I asked everyone involved and they filled in the details). Lots of questions. Tests of my brain and my reflexes. Questions about what happened. I asked 3 separate times if the woman I hit was OK. I was told I didn’t hit her. I let everyone know I was wearing a heart rate monitor and PLEASE not to cut it off (it was new and expensive). All of the sudden Vince was there. And Pat, our friend who lives 5 minutes away from our house and gave Vince a ride when he called. And I was sobbing. And then my sister was there. And I really started crying. Over time people came in and out. They did an ultrasound of my abdomen. Probably to rule out any internal bleeding, but also, I suspect, because I said I had surgery three years ago. They sent me for a CT scan and when that came back clean I got take the cervical collar off. Then they got to cleaning up my wounds, which was the worst. By now things had clotted up nicely, and I had plenty of road rash where there weren’t big scabs. Dr. Admiral Ackbar (not his real name) decided I needed stitches for my eyebrow, but that everything else would be fine. There were moments when there were no doctors. Just Vince holding my hand and saying kind things while I silently sobbed. I kept trying to get out one sentence, and only one sentence, but I just couldn’t. “I’m so….. I’m so….” I couldn’t finish it. I just couldn’t. All I wanted to say is “I’m so sad.” Because all I could see was my first triathlon season going up in smoke. All my hard work and training, gone. 4 races for the summer, gone. My first race in 3 weeks, gone. I was inconsolable. I couldn’t even get out the words. Later, in talking with Vince and telling him why I was sobbing so uncontrollably at times, he said he knew. And he did the best he could. Held my hand, stroked the not-blood-clotted part of my hair and head and whispered kindness and love to me. At some point they gave me some good pain meds for my headache. Which was at 11 by this point. I also realized I needed to pee. Really a lot. By now, Pat and Richard had already gone to get my car from Vienna and they had come back and parked it at the hospital. So my sister and her husband took Rosie out and put her in the car. Along with all my stuff. Since it was quiet and just Vince and I, I decided it’d be a good time to take care of the pee situation, before the stitches. They didn’t want me up and walking around, since I hadn’t even sat up yet. A bedpan was in order. Hooray? Better than a catheter, I suppose. Having never actually used a bedpan, I asked for the nurse. We were all good to go, but then I couldn’t go. So she turned on the faucet. Thanks mom for training my bladder/brain connection. I filled the whole bed pan and then some. Thank goodness they put a pad thing under. Then it was time to get dressed. But I was pretty… wet? I definitely needed a wipe. But between the IV and the bed edges and everything else I couldn’t do it myself. Cue the video of Vince and I in our old age. Me, lying in bed, Vince doing the loving husband part of cleaning up his wife after a pee. Touching, really. The absolute worst and most painful part was getting the numbing medicine for the eyebrow stitches. Oh. My. God. I think I broke Vince’s hand squeezing it while Dr. Admiral Akbar was injecting me. And I’m so glad I went through everything to pee. I would not have been able to hold it. I got 9 stitches and now hold the family record. At least 3 times Dr. Admiral Ackbar told me to keep out of the sun for 2 months if I didn’t want a scar. Out of the sun? In the summer? In tri season? I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a scar. And, honestly, who doesn’t want a scar? Dudes (and chicks) dig scars! ((Updated side note: I do have a scar, but it's perfectly inline with my eyebrow line. I can feel it, but you can't really see it.)) Then I got to sit up. Oh sweet joy! By now I was feeling more myself and aside from the searing pain in my head and the throbbing on the entire right side of my face, I felt pretty ok. More hospital people came in and there was talk of sending me home. And then there was a wheelchair and we were headed to the door. And then we were walking to the car. And then we were driving home. And then we were home. And I sat down on the couch and cried some more. Vince stayed home from work on Monday and we spent the day doing nothing. Eating soup and ice cream. Drinking everything through a straw. Listening to a lot of TV (because I couldn’t take screens or lights). That’s how most of the week went. Along the way I picked up a coloring book and some markers from somewhere in my craft stash. And went on a walk every day. And slowly slowly started to eat and chew food. And feel a little better. On Thursday we had a follow-up appointment with my regular doctor that turned into an all day adventure at Kaiser Tysons Corner. I had an MRI and they didn’t find anything that was caused by the accident. But there were two pockets of “unusualness.” All that means is that I have to have another MRI in 3 months. After a week I was feeling depressed. I still couldn’t drive (the headaches would get dramatically worse when I was behind the wheel). I was still having pretty bad headaches, even with pain meds. My body still hurt, though my face was getting better. I went to have my stitches out and talk to neurology. Both were ok, but not great or motivating. That same day, as if by divine intervention, my coach called me. He gave me a great pep talk. I made a plan. A series of plans, actually. Each one based on a different situation. Would I race on June 5? Just swim? Just bike? Just run? No race at all? I set out a plan of action for each situation. Then I called my mom and asked her to drive me out to the bike shop and the triathlon store. I got my bike fixed. My mom bought me a new fancy helmet. I rented my wetsuit for the next two weekends. This was part of the “I’m going to race on June 5” plan. All of the sudden, everything turned around. Now I knew what I was going to do. No matter what, I knew what I was going to do. By Wednesday I was able to drive. On Saturday I went out to the Reston Lake swim and open water clinic. It was great. This morning Vince and I went for a leisurely bike ride out on the Mt. Vernon trail. It was wonderful. I’m amazed at how wonderfully my body is coming back to itself; how strong it was, and continues to be. My parting words? Wear your helmet. Make everyone you love wear a helmet. Pay attention on busy roads and trails. Teach your friends, your family, your children, how to be responsible trail and road users. Give a hug to all the EMTs you see. Whoever took care of me deserves a big thank you, and I don’t know who they are, so just hug them all. I’m sure it’ll get back to them somehow. Be safe. Make good choices. — Items of interest: -At one point we were going 93mph in the ambulance. I was wearing my Garmin and they didn’t turn it off until we were at the hospital. Tracked the whole thing! -Apparently I asked the woman at the scene not to use my team jacket to wrap around my head, but to use my long sleeve shirt that was underneath. This feels very unlike me, as I would say to use whatever the hell you want to put compression on my head wound! Also, how the hell did I get my long sleeve shirt off? It goes over my head. Somehow, with magic. #shakeshead -Rosie, my bike, got to ride in the front seat of the ambulance! And she was in the ER with me the whole time. And every EMT and nurse and doctor made sure to tell me that my bike was OK. They knew their patient's real needs.