Dear friends with cars:

I know you don’t like to wait for cyclists.  Believe me, I get it.  I’m not particularly fond of it either, especially when I’m running late to get somewhere.  Which is pretty much all the time with me.  But humor me, for a minute, if you will.

This morning I went out for a ride.  I only went about 16 miles because I didn’t have a whole lot of time before my doctor appointment that I ultimately missed because I had the time wrong. Duh.  But something occurred to me while I was out on the bike earlier when some guy in a red pickup truck pulling a trailer nearly scared the crap out of me as he sped past in very close proximity.  I’m not really sure what he was trying to prove, since it was pretty obvious that he and his means of transportation were way bigger and faster than me and mine.  If he was trying to prove that he’s a jackass, he succeeded.  Anyway, I think we all know I’m a pretty fearless chick, there’s not a lot that truly scares me.  However, this caused enough fear in me that I began shouting at the driver of said pick up.  It is entirely possible there were obscenities involved.

As I rode on I started thinking, if that guy was a friend of mine, he wouldn’t have been as likely to do that.  No, I’m not planning to use his license plate number to track him down and make friends (nor for any other reason, for that matter).  Actually, I have a favor to ask of all my driving friends.

My confidence on the bike has grown leaps and bounds over the past couple months, but I still consider myself a novice and I’m still figuring out the rules of sharing the road.  I typically try to ride with company, so I can learn from my more experienced cyclist friends, but that’s not always an option.    The runner girl in me is used to sidewalks and jogging paths, or being able to jump out of the way without the risk of too much damage, so trust me, I don’t love riding in your driving lane, but I also don’t love riding over all the gravel and potentially hazardous junk on the shoulder of the road.  If I had my way, I would ride strictly on bike paths or country roads where the only traffic is an occasional tractor, but I have to get to those venues somehow.  I’d rather not be scared or killed in my attempt to get there.

So, here’s my favor, you ready? Next time you are out and about in your car, and you happen upon a cyclist, pretend for a moment that it’s me, your friend.  I’d like to think that most, if not all of you care enough about me that you are concerned with my well-being.  I’d like to think that you wouldn’t want to cause me any harm, such as paralysis or death or at the very least the humiliation of soiling myself in public (although a few of you would probably enjoy that last one).  There is a reason we wear helmets, and it’s not about the fashion statement, I assure you.  It’s to protect ourselves, and I’m hoping you all like me enough that you would be willing to protect me too.  So, please, use the brakes, slow down, take the extra 30 seconds to let traffic clear before you give me plenty of room as you carefully go around me, and I promise we’ll both have a better day because of it.  Think about it, wouldn’t it mess up your day a whole lot more to have to make that call to my mom and my kids?  That’s what I thought.

So next time you see “me” on the road, instead of thinking that I’m some egocentric cyclist who is out there being a jerk with the sole intention of messing up your commute, please remember that I’m really just out there doing the best I can.

Thanks, Friends.  Now get out and enjoy this beautiful day!

XOXO…

Rambling Runner Girl

Note: If I have ever offended or harmed you in any way and you would in fact like to run over me, please disregard this message.

Rambling Cyclist Girl?

I woke up on the total wrong side of the bed this morning.  I didn’t even want to get OUT of bed.  Ok, so maybe that had something to do with the 30 or so miles I ran in the past 4 days.  6 miles of them done at speed work on Thursday, an impromptu tempo run at Rockwood on Friday after work just because I felt like going fast, and 14 miles on the trails of Castlewood yesterday left my legs feeling so trashed that I was afraid to swing them off the bed this morning for fear that they might not be able to bear my weight.  And last night when I met up with Rosie for a few more miles, she had already run 30 that morning.  I hadn’t even done HALF of her mileage and my legs felt dead.  I did appreciate the calling card she left on my windshield in the parking lot earlier in the day.  When I got back to the car, feeling exhausted and found the salted caramel Gu tucked under my wiper blade, it reminded me that as bad as I felt, Rosie was out there somewhere running 30 miles in prep for her upcoming Mark Twain 100.  She is going to run 100 miles.  Yeah, you read that right, 100 miles.  So, as we were shuffling along yesterday evening in the heat of the day, in search of shade, and beer, I felt like such a whiner complaining about how tired I was.  But the reality was, with Racine 3 weeks behind me and Chicago 9 weeks ahead of me, my legs are tired.

Add to my sore quads the fact that it was cloudy and overcast when I woke up, which then turned to thunder and rain, and you have the makings of a day that you just want to pull the covers over your head and stay there…forever.  Does anyone remember the movie Ernest Goes to Camp?  My brother used to make me watch that movie incessantly, along with Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown.  And if you know my brother, that won’t surprise you in the least.  Anyway, there was a song Ernest sang in that movie about being glad it’s raining.  I was kind of glad it was raining, it matched my mood.

Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and downstairs to the Keurig machine.  Coffee will make it better, coffee makes everything better.  I grabbed my Racine 70.3 coffee mug, pulled the hazelnut Coffeemate from the fridge and made a cup.  (Side note:  I am incredibly superstitious about buying anything from any race until after I have gone the distance and earned it.  That coffee mug was very possibly the first thing I’ve ever purchased from a race before the race itself.  My logic with the mug was, well, it’s a souvenir from a vacation with my friends and even if I don’t finish the race, I can just cry in my coffee.  And maybe throw a little whisky in there too.) So, this morning, as I held the steaming cup in my hands and took a sip, I learned against the kitchen counter, staring out the back door, watching the rain fall onto my porch.  Not helping.  Still crabby.

I went back upstairs to the shower, I even washed my hair!  Still not helping.

I gathered my stuff for work and packed up my laptop thinking some time in a coffee shop with free wifi might be just what the doctor ordered.  On my way out the door, Britta called, we commiserated some about the challenges of life. And then she had to go because she was in the school pick up lane and I had arrived at Kaldi’s.  So, here I sit, coffee, phone, laptop, ipod. The sun is even trying to break through. Better, but still mildly unsettled.

So what to do about it?  A lot of folks would say, keep things in perspective, it’s really not as bad as it could be.  Which is 100% true.  I really have no reason to be miserable and crabby, I have excuses, but not reasons.  Excuses that include tired legs, the weather, lack of caffeine, the broken washing machine I discovered this morning, right after the pharmacist called to tell me that my prescription isn’t being renewed until I go to see the doctor.  Awesome, that information would have been useful before my Rx ran out.  More excuses like sometimes life is just hard.  And some days just leave you with a bad taste in your mouth, even after coffee.

But even when you put things in perspective…like the fact that someone else has every right to be more tired because they ran twice as far, or their struggles are so much worse…illness, addiction, what have you, the fact remains that you are the only person living your reality.  You are the only one who really knows what’s going on inside of you.  And while it could be worse, who is to say what might come along and make you feel yucky, frustrated, crabby today.  That doesn’t give me the right to have a lifelong pity party…or even a day long pity party.  But it’s ok to acknowledge what’s bugging me, face it by feeling bad about it for a while and then move on. The longer we try to ignore the bad, and hide it, and shove it down, the longer it’s going to take to really, truly get over it.  So, be real, own the crap and tomorrow will be better.  Or maybe it won’t but at least you’re another day closer to “better”.  And if that fails, put Pandora on the Footloose station and sing until your heart is content.

Sometimes you just have to take things a step at a time, especially when your legs are really, really, REALLY tired.

Some days just suck, really for no real reason at all.

This morning I was having a text conversation with Steve and I asked if he was going to speedwork tonight.

Steve:  Yeah of course I’ll be there running laps in a slow fashion

Steve (again): Btw it’s been hell lately trying to get back into the swing of things after my post Racine break.  Lie to me and tell me you’re having the same problem…

RRG: No lie, same problem.  My body feels broken.  And I am supposed to be training for a marathon on Oct 13.   Hahahahaha…

So, there you have it.  It’s been 2 ½ weeks since our half Ironman in Racine and my post-race recovery has lasted every bit of those 2 ½ weeks.  I have done almost nothing since July 21, with the exception of a 35 mile ride with “Grey” on Monday, a couple rounds of boxing and a few miles on the trails here and there. I keep thinking, ok, tomorrow I will jump back on the train and start logging the miles to get ready for 26.2 in Chicago, but I can’t make my body do it.  I just want to sleep all the time.  I mean, the way I figure, if I just accomplished almost 7 full hours of physical activity at one time, I can’t be in too bad of shape.  But I can’t ride that forever.  I’ve been listening to my body and not over doing it, but how long can I do that?

On Monday night I was at work.  My last customer of the day was a kid getting ready to start his 3^rd year of High School Cross Country.  He was there with his younger brother and their dad.  The dad, Mark, asked about the tattoo on my right wrist.  And so I told him that I have ivy on my wrist, to match the ivy on my brother’s side, we did that in honor of our dad who’s ashes rest in the ivy at Wrigley Field.

Mark had a tattoo of a tree on his shoulder, in honor of his own dad, who had also passed away several years ago. As his son, Josiah, went back and forth from the fit bench in front of me, to the sidewalk outside the store, to try the different pairs of Nike Pegasus, Saucony Kinvara, and Adidas Glide that I had brought out for him, Mark and I shared stories of our dads.

Interestingly, Mark and I had both started running 5k’s competitively at age 9, both of us inspired and encouraged by our fathers.  I told Mark the story of how when I got to High School, I only ran one season of Cross Country because by then, I’d had enough and I was ready to try something else for a while.

That lead us to a conversation about how sometimes you just have to get back to a love of running.  Sometimes you have to leave the Garmin at home, forget about numbers and just run.

I was fortunate enough to have that opportunity last weekend.  I was back in Kirksville, MO for the 20^th reunion of the KHS class of 1993.  (Go ahead and do the math, I’ll wait…but for the record, having an October birthday made me one of the youngest in my class.  Got my age, now?  Ok then, let’s move on)  So, even though I didn’t graduate with that group due to a move back to MI, these were the friends that I went to elementary school and Jr. High with.  Memories of the ‘Ville include things like nights at Leo’s roller rink, my first boyfriends, the beginning of my cheerleading and track career, endless sleepovers with Kirsten, Maria, Stephanie and several others.  On Saturday morning, after a long night at the Dukum Inn and Pancake City, I finally roused myself for a run through my old stomping grounds.  I had intentionally positioned myself in a hotel near my old neighborhood, so I set off up Shepherd Road towards College Park.  I started the Garmin and realized I had a low battery.  Oh well, I wasn’t planning to go far, so it should last.  About a minute into my run a black SUV pulled up next to me, rolled the window down and I heard a voice say, “Lindsey?  Lindsey Jacobs?!  OMG!”  I responded with, “OMG, Jason Barron!”  This was funny because Jason and I had spent several hours the night before having that very conversation, repeatedly.  After agreeing that we would see each other in a couple hours for the rest of the festivities, he drove on and I continued my run.

I looked at my Garmin.  The face was totally blank.  I was at most a half mile in.  I smiled as I considered that maybe that was my dad’s way of telling me this wasn’t a run to focus on the numbers, but rather one to just let the memories come back and enjoy the moment.

I ran up Shepherd and made the right turn onto First Street.  I was at the top of the hill that I used to run for hill repeats.  I smiled as I realized the hill I once thought was so big, didn’t seem like nearly as much anymore.  It’s all about perspective isn’t it?  As we grow and face life’s challenges, we find that the things we once struggled with, just aren’t as big in comparison to the things that we face as we get older.

I ran down the hill and back up to turn left into College Park and then right on the very first street in the neighborhood.  And there stood my old house in all it’s glory.  1 Shady Lane.  Now, I ask you, is there a better address anywhere in the world?  I don’t think so.  I slowed to a walk as I passed.  It looked just as I remembered.  I remembered playing in piles of leaves and building snowmen in the yard.  I saw my old bedroom window, upstairs on the far left, where I used to sit and spy on Rick Gooch when he would come home late. He always waved.  The Gooches lived across the street and for years Chad and I were like Dawson and Joey.  (Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.  Who didn’t love Dawson’s Creek?  Especially when adorable tomboy Joey would climb up through Dawson’s window.  Yeah, Chad and I were like that, except Chad’s house was a ranch)

I noticed that our old jungle gym was gone, the one where my brother fell and needed stitches over his eye.  In its place was a garden.  The acre yard seemed to have a lot less trees than it used to and our tire swing was gone.  I continued down the street to the last house on the right, Angela’s old house.  Angela was my very first running partner, she used to run that hill to Shepherd with me.  I remembered all the times we camped out in her front yard in the tents we built with sleeping bags and old blankets, while playing with transformers and trading baseball cards.

Just past Angela’s house, Shady Lane ends at a little lake.  There is now a walking path around it thanks to my mom’s efforts 25 years ago.  I ran along the path, past the spot where we lit sparklers and shot off fireworks for my brother’s July 2^nd birthday a whole lifetime ago.  As I ran on, houses stood next to the lake, where there used to be only fields and trees.  I ran to the back of the neighborhood and then returned by way of College Park Drive.  I saw the houses of so many old friends, Andi, Marcus, the Tindalls, the Morascos.  To me, it all looked like not a day had passed.

I exited the neighborhood and went left, continuing on First street, past the Lundburg’s where I used to catch the bus and spent hours playing Atari; up the hill to where Elgin’s house once stood before it burned down.  I turned right on LaHarpe and I realized I had exactly run the old familiar path that had made me fall in love with running almost 30 years ago.

I ran past Stephanie’s old neighborhood and remembered the night we called the radio station to request Jesse’s Girl over and over and over, much to the annoyance of that poor DJ.  I got to the corner of LaHarpe and Franklin, the Truman State campus was in front of me.  When I lived there it was Northeast Missouri State University, where I had packed half of what I owned to go for weeks of basketball camp and cheerleading camp, thinking I was so far from home.

I ran back up Franklin, just before I got back to the Holiday Inn Express, I could see to my left the old Country Kitchen where my dad used to take me for breakfast before school and the Hyvee where my sister used to work.

I entered the hotel parking lot and slowed to a walk, dripping with sweat from the Missouri humidity.  I had managed, maybe 4 miles, probably not even that much, on a day that I should have run about 14.  I have no idea what my pace was, but I’m guessing pretty slow.  And ya know what?  I didn’t care.

That run wasn’t about speed or distance.  Regardless of whether I left the Garmin at home or it just died on it’s own that day, that run was about remembering why I became a runner in the first place.  And Kirksville reminds me that even after all the miles I’ve run and mountains I’ve climbed and the challenges I’ve faced head on, I am still that same carefree, light-hearted, happy go lucky, free spirited girl that I’ve always been.

Although it is now time for me to come out of post Racine retirement and get back to making it happen for the Chicago marathon, I pledge to occasionally forget the numbers and run to celebrate the glory days.  I will remember that I run, first and foremost, because I love it.  I will remain calm and leave the Garmin at home…sometimes.

KHS Class of 1993

Part IV: Runners High

It’s a little disheartening to begin a half marathon at the end of a half Ironman and just a few steps in see a sign that says “MILE 7”, but know that it’s not for you.  The run was two loops of out and back along the same course.  I was not looking forward to that.  However, it turns out that made the experience not just tolerable, but absolutely amazing.  It was like one big party to celebrate what we were out there doing.

We headed down a hill along the beach, then back up.  There were a lot of people walking the hill, but I was still trying to get my body adjusted to running.  Besides, as we all know, I love hills, and my lack of wetsuit for the swim already declared me to be the non-conformist that I am, so I ran past everyone walking up the hill.  I looked at the water and wondered if it was my imagination or if the waves had settled down considerably since a few hours earlier.  The first aid station was at the top of the hill.  I walked through it, got a drink, poured some water over my head and was back at it.

I had been slightly dreading the run.  As a runner, can I even admit that?  Well, I just did.  Running is supposed to be my main event, but I was worried that it would pass so slowly after the exhaustion of my prior activities.  I was worried that it would hurt, a lot.  But I started running and I felt surprisingly ok, even my hip.  I scanned the faces of the runners coming in the other direction, looking for folks that I know.  I saw Katherine and yelled her name.  She was so focused she never even heard me.  I figured she was on her last loop, so she only had about 3 miles to go. Wow, that girl is awesome!  Then I saw Erin.  We cheered and high-fived.  Then Chad.  Then I was at the turn around.  I had knocked off 3 miles already.  I stopped to pee.  Grabbed one more water at the aid station and picked the pace back up.  I say that, but I think my pace averaged about 1 1/2 to 2 minutes slower per mile than my usual race pace.

I started thinking I should see Nick anytime now since I figured he would catch me.  About 30 seconds later, I yelled, “NICK-YYYYYY!”  I wondered how long it would take for him to catch up to me.  I kept checking behind me.  I saw Serena, Kristen, Tracy, Steve.  When Steve saw me, we ran towards each other arms out and did a double high five.  Right before he elbowed me in the face, almost knocked my visor off and gave me black eye.  Dude, you’re not supposed to do that!  Now I wonder if he was trying to sabatoge my race.  Hmmm…

As I ran, I thought, this is awesome.  I couldn’t possibly be having more fun.  I was seeing my friends all over the place!  At Mile 6, I was coming into the “Tour of the Zoo”, which was really anything but.  We saw the backside of the parking lot, where they had a pen of turkeys or something.  I guess if you want to call that a tour of the zoo, you can.  I call it, Lame.  However, just before that, I saw Karen walking up ahead of me.  I jogged up behind her and called out her name.  She turned and we hugged each other tightly, completely unaware of how sweaty and salty and disgusting we probably were.  We walked together briefly and I told her I had been thinking of her while I was being tossed in the waves that morning.  I told her how glad I was to see her at that point on the course.  We had both made it through the swim.  That terrible, crazy, ridiculously challenging swim.  2 non-swimmers had completely overcome obstacles and made it through that.   I told her that while I swam, I was praying for her.  And I told her that I started singing a song in my head as I swam.  She asked which song.  I told her it was a Britt Nicole song.  She knew which one I meant, but couldn’t conjure it.  She asked me to sing it. I started singing (this will not surprise anyone I work with, since I am known to randomly burst into song).  Then Karen joined me.  So there were were, walking along the half marathon course of a half Ironman…SINGING.

So get out and let your fear fall to the ground, no time to waste, don’t wait, and don’t you turn around and miss out on everything you were made for.  I know you’re not sure.  So you play it safe, try to run away.  But if you take that first step, into the unknown, He won’t let you go…So what are you waiting for?  What do you have to lose? 

I’m sure all the people who passed us thought we were nuts.  We didn’t care.  We kept singing.  Eventually, Karen said she didn’t want to slow me down and I took off again on the run.  As I pulled away, I heard Karen yell behind me, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength! Amen!”  I yelled back, “That’s right, Girl! Amen!”

Then I cruised on in to the shoot where we could either go on to the second loop or go into the finish.  People lined the course on both sides.  I saw my mom and a few steps later, Jenny.  I high fived them both, yelled “Only 6 more to go!” and whooped it up as I ran past.  My mom said how strong I looked, I felt it. I told Jenny that Nick was right behind me.  I was seriously having the time of my life!

I looped around and started my final lap of the run.  I merged with people who were just coming out of transition to start the run.  I felt good. I didn’t know how it was possible to feel that good.  I climbed that early hill again.  I scanned the faces looking for Teri.  I never did see her, but I knew she was out there and that gave me strength.  I went through my longest stretch of the run without seeing anyone and then, there was Erin again.  And then Chad.  I was right on his heels.  He said, “I’ll see you in a minute!”  I couldn’t believe Nick hadn’t caught me yet.  I rounded the turn.  I heard the two guys in front of me talking about how they could see the finish line.  The one guy said, “See it?  It’s way over there.”  I said, “Don’t say it like that!  You’re supposed to say, “Look!  It’s right over there!”  They both laughed.  I kept plugging along, and there was Nick.  I hollered, “It’s in the bag now, Baby! ”

I overheard some guy complaining about how hard it was, “Why are we doing this?!  This sucks!”  I responded, “Nah, Man, THIS is Living!”  He gave me a somewhat confused smile, but he started running again.

I walked through a water station and started talking to a random girl on the course.  We walked together briefly and talked about what an amazing experience Racine 70.3 had been.  I tried to pick my legs back up again to run.  I could feel large blisters forming on the pads of my toes, but I was so close I just wanted to keep going.  Again, I saw Serena and Kristen who both yelled something encouraging.

With about a half mile to go, I saw Tracy through the fence.  I couldn’t tell you what she yelled, but I was completely exuberant.  At the last possible second I saw Steve before he headed out for one more loop and I headed into the finish.  I yelled, “Get ‘er done, Steve-o!”  I ran down the hill, I didn’t give that last aid station a second glance.  I was all smiles.  As I ran past my mom and Jenny, who had found each other at this point, I was beaming and I raised my hands in the air.  Someone in the crowd yelled, “Look at that smile!  Way to represent, FLEET FEET!”

When I arrived at the split and got to go to the side that said “Finish”, I had one last burst of energy.  I ran into the finish, hands up, big old Lindsey smile on my face.  The announcer said, “That’s Lindsey Jacobs who just came across the line” and I said, “Yeeeeah It Is!”  as I high fived a kid volunteer.  The announcer said something about how much fun I was having and gave another shout out to FLEET FEET.

Someone put a medal around my neck and said, “Congratulations!” Someone else handed me a hat that said Finisher.  I said, “Thank you!”  I was beaming.  Someone else removed my timing chip from my ankle.  Then I saw Chad a couple steps ahead of me, so I moved up to grab him.  Funny that I started the race on the beach with Tracy and I finished just steps behind her fiancé, Chad.

We came out of the corral, and I got a hug from Erin’s mom.  I choked up as I told her how awesome it was to see everyone along the course.  Then I found my mom.  I was smiling and crying.  I was depleted.  Joyful.  Exhausted.  Exuberant.  Overwhelmed.  I couldn’t stop saying how awesome that was.

It was a completely crazy ride…from the giant waves, to the bumpy bike, to what was probably my slowest half marathon ever.  And I wouldn’t change a single minute of any of it.  Just about an hour after we packed our gear back to the car where I slapped my 70.3 magnet on the Pathfinder and headed back to the Marriott, the sky opened up and dumped a total deluge of rain.  We felt so fortunate that we didn’t have to be out there riding or running  or gathering gear in the downpour.  Even though the swim had been more of challenge than any of us could have predicted, they didn’t cancel it.  We were given the opportunity to go out that morning and do all of what we had prepared to do.  And BOY, did we ever make the most of it!

Proud Finishers…LJ and Erin

Part V: The Finish

So, what did I learn from my experience of Racing Racine 70.3?  I learned that impossible means NOTHING!  The word impossible really is just a challenge to go out and try.  I remember 2 years ago, right after I started working at FLEET FEET, an all staff email went out that Lindsey Farrell had completed a half Ironman, I think it might have even been Racine.  And I remember thinking I could NEVER do that.  Well, never say never.  But if you would have told me 2 years ago that I was capable of this, I know I wouldn’t have believed you.  Now, I believe.  And I’m ready to tackle even more challenges that lie ahead with Ironman Arizona 2014.  Even Teri sent me a text saying the next day saying that if I made it through that, I can do ANY swim.  I was glad to hear it isn’t always that rough.  Lake St. Louis is a month away.  I get to have a rematch with the Olympic course I did last year.  That will be the true test of how far I’ve come and I can’t wait to get out there and really see what I am capable of.

What else did I learn last weekend?  I learned that runners can talk about poop excessively and never stop thinking it’s funny.  And I learned that all restaurant’s named Dewey’s are not created equal.

I learned, once again, to play the hand I’m dealt.  Life doesn’t always look the way we think it’s supposed to, and once we finally get over that, we are free to take things as they come…good or bad.  When it’s bad, it’s time to suck it up and get the job done, but that’s usually when we can see how much progress we’ve really made. Which makes the good even better.

Most importantly, I learned to stop doubting myself.  I really am so much stronger than I gave myself credit for.  I had no idea what to expect from all this.  I probably could have finished even faster than I did, but I couldn’t be happier with my 6:44:55.  I wouldn’t trade this experience, MY experience, for anything.

It wouldn’t have been the same experience without my friends there, without all those familiar faces along the course.  I can’t imagine it any other way and quite frankly, I don’t really want to.  And just like the magnet on my fridge says, where ever you are it is your friends who make your world.

Racine 70.3 was a wild ride.  From training to prep, from start to finish, it was a wild, crazy, ridiculous ride.  But I happen to like the wild ride.  I like the ups and downs.  I like the whiplash and the butterflies in my stomach.  I like the fear and excitement, the anxiety and exhilaration.  But more than anything, I like having my friends on the ride with me.

Nick, RRG, Steve…Half Iron People!

Here’s the video of the song Karen and I sang on the run…

Karen says I lifted her heart, but I say we just helped carry each other.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BeTu8twnGvU

The bike mount was at the base of a pretty sizable hill.  I had set my gears to make it as easy as possible, but I’m still not great at clipping in and getting going, so I was prepared that I might have to walk my bike up the hill.  I decided to give it a shot anyway.  I looked over and saw my mom cheering me on.

Relief swept over me when I saw that she made it.  I smiled and yelled something about how hard the swim was.  Just seeing her lifted my spirits even more. I got going, clipped in quicker than usual and plowed my way up that hill.  I made it! At the top, some guy yelled, “Pepper that hill, Girl!”  I didn’t have a clue what he meant, I didn’t know if he was encouraging me or criticizing me.  I didn’t really care at the moment and I kept going.  About a mile in, I pulled the banana from my pocket and ate it.  I tossed the peel to a group of folks who said they’d take garbage.  Ok, on to the next part.  A couple miles down, a whole lot more to go.  The roads were somewhat rough.  Every few feet there was a crack in the road, but it was like going through a ditch each time.  Gu-gunk. 3 seconds later…ga-gunk.  3 seconds later…again.  Ugh.  I had to pee.  And the bumps were making it worse.  I pulled over at Mile 15 for a pit stop.  It’s a long race, better to be comfortable, right?  While I was off the bike, I grabbed a GU Roctane and washed it down with some water.  As I remounted the bike, I heard someone yell, “Let’s Go FLEET FEET”.  As he passed I saw he had one green and one orange Zensah sleeve, he was also wearing FLEET FEET gear.  I started back up and made my way through the country roads of Racine.  Every direction we turned seemed to present a stronger head wind.  How is that even possible?  It reminded me of riding in New Town.  I passed people.  I got passed by a lot more people, especially super fast dudes on Tri bikes.  I saw lots of debris on the road, disgarded water bottles, someone’s old tube, splattered gels, CO2 cartridges.  I saw a girl’s tire blow right in front of me and it scared me half to death because it sounded like a gunshot.  I worried that I would do something wrong and get a penalty, but I kept pushing.  I passed a guy as I powered up a hill.  I could feel his eyes burning into me as I passed him, so I turned and smiled.  That’s right, buddy, you just got chicked.  I saw people fixing flats, adjusting chains, doing whatever they could to get their bikes to the end.  At Mile 35-ish, I took another GU.  When I reached mile 46, I thought of my 46 mile ride through Wildwood with “Grey” a few weeks ago.  This ride was certainly less hilly.  At Mile 47, I realized I had already accomplished my longest ride ever.  And I was about to bust through that with 9 more miles.  No problem!

Somewhere between 45 and 50, I found Kristin.  I yelled, “Hey, there’s my girl!”  A few miles later, I came up on Serena.  I yelled her name, she smiled and said Hey, and we kept cruising along.

By mile 50, I couldn’t believe I was almost done with the bike and I’d had no issues.  My prayers for no flat tires had been answered.  Worst case scenario, I could run my bike to the transition at this point.  I came up to an aid station knowing my fluids were low, and knowing I probably hadn’t hydrated enough on the bike.  I prepared to grab one of the bottles being held out for me.  As I motioned that I was going to take one, I apologized in advance to the woman holding it out and said, “Sorry, I’m still terrible at this!”  But I grabbed it, didn’t crash, chugged some of the water and tossed the bottle toward the pile of “Last Chance Garbage”.  Success!

I was back on the neighborhood streets of Racine, getting close now. The bike course doubled back on the run course.  There were already lots of runners out on the course, it got tricky passing cyclists without riding into the running lanes.  Time to start prepping mentally for the run.  It’s gonna be hard, it’s gonna hurt, I’m not gonna be able to run like I normally do. Just take it nice and slow and whatever you do… KEEP GOING!

I made the final turn and headed down the hill into T2.  The volunteers along the side motioned to slow down.  I did.  I unclipped.  I got to the bottom and dismounted, just as a guy fell over.  The girl in front of me got around him and we all narrowly avoided a crash.  I could hear someone behind me yelling my name, but I didn’t turn around to look, I just threw my hand in the air and waved.  My feet were killing as I tried to run into transition, unhooking my helmet as I went.  I looked over to my right and saw Chad, so I yelled his name and waved as he looked up.  He smiled, waved back and I think he hollered, “Hey Lindsey!”

Chad’s daughter Jazmine must have taken this pic right about the same time I waved to Chad in T2.

I put my bike back on the rack and began removing my cycling shoes.  I commented to the girl next to me that I’d never been so happy to put on my running shoes.  She agreed.  I ditched my gloves and exchanged the helmet for a visor.  I grabbed my water bottle off my bike and took a last swig of G2.  I readjusted my sunglasses and I headed out of transition for the run.  I remember thinking…just a half marathon, I’ve done this distance hundreds of times, no problem.  I also remember considering how difficult it would be to run a full marathon after doing twice what I had already completed. Well, no time to think about that today, focus on what’s ahead.

I thought of Farrell and her text to me the night before.  She wrote: You’ll do awesome!!  Just remember its all mental and you are one of the strongest people I know.

She’s right, I am strong.  I can do this. 57.2 miles down, 13.1 more to go…

I crawled back out of the waves and lined up with Tracy.  We stayed to the back of the pack as it edged closer to the water.  Kelly Clarkson’s Stronger blared over the speakers.  The wave ahead of us started.  We moved up to the line.  4 minutes to go.  They asked how many of us were doing our first half Ironman, a lot of us hollered and raised our hands, Tracy and I included. 3 minutes to go. I looked around for Kristin and Serena. I didn’t see them, but I knew they were there somewhere.  2 minutes to go.  Wow, those waves are really huge.  1 minute.  I said, mostly to remind myself, “It’s just a fun day of activities I love, with my friends.” 30 seconds to go.  Goggles on.  One last fist bump with Tracy.  We got this!  I looked at the clock just over my left shoulder.  3 seconds.  Here we go. The horn went off.  We set out into the waves.  It felt like a slow death march at first.  How far do I wade in like this before I try to swim?  I stayed to the back and the side.  Ok, here goes nothing.  Waves kept splashing me in the face.  Just make it to the turn, then it will get easier.  I did whatever I needed to in order to get there.  I tried to find what would work for me in that mess, so I alternated between freestyle, breast stroke, side stroke, doggy paddle…you think I’m kidding, I’m not.  I spent the entire first half of the swim having a major hissy fit.  I complained in my head, it ISN’T supposed to be like this.  What the hell?!  This sucks.  Why did I even bother learning how to swim if I can’t perform in this anyway? The waves weren’t supposed to be this big! 

I heard an announcement, “We need a pick up between 4 and 5”.  I glanced that way and saw a kayak.  Someone was hanging onto the side.  I prayed that it wasn’t one of my friends, prayed they were all ok.  (Unfortunately, I learned later that one of the approximately 200 swimmers pulled from the water was my friend Jen.  I’m happy to report that she’s fine, she just got a little seasick and determined it wasn’t her day so she got cleaned up and was waiting for us at the finish) As I swam,  I wondered how Karen was doing, since I knew she was equally as scared of this as I was.  As the waves crashed over me, a song from my ipod popped into my head and I thought through the words…”You look around, It’s staring back at you, Another wave of doubt, Will it pull you under?  You wonder…What if I’m overtaken?  What it I never make it?”

C’mon, Linds, you’re almost to the next marker.  Just get there.  Is this even safe?! Should they have cancelled the swim portion?  Well, they didn’t, so keep going!

At about the half-way point, something changed inside me.  I had been frustrated with the conditions and having a whiny pity-party about it, but I finally told myself, “Lindsey, yes, the conditions are terrible out here!  But Girl, SUCK IT UP!  This is the hand you were dealt today, so get over it and do what you came out here to do!”  At that point, I did just that. I got over it.  I started to swim. I mean really swim, just like I learned how.  Head down, elbows up, finger tips pointing toward the bottom of the lake, breathing as often as I needed to. It was way harder than in the smooth, even water of the pool at Crestview Middle School, but I pulled myself from one buoy to the next.  I was tossed in the waves, I swallowed about a gallon of water, and I kept ending up way off course.  But I swam.  On the second half of that course, the waves got worse, but I got better.  Every once in a while I would gag as a wave splashed in me in the face and I had to stop to catch my breath, but then I’d get right back to it.  My goggles that had never given me problems before filled up with water on the right side.  As I breathed, I looked over and saw someone 4 feet higher than me, then I couldn’t see her at all, on the next breath she was 4 feet lower.  I got passed by waves of people, but I passed a few people myself.  I got knocked in the head, I felt like someone swam over the top of me and I had to change directions when I ran into several people, but I kept going.  My mantra became “Just get ‘er done!” I finally got to the last buoy before the turn.  The waves were bouncing off the breaker wall and throwing us all over the place.  Almost there, Linds, you did it.  Just swim and let the waves carry you into the shore.  After what seemed like an eternity, I put my feet down on the sand.  I tried to stand and got pitched forward.  I tried again.  The guy next to me said, “That was terrible”.  I responded, “Yeah, it’s a little choppy out here today.”   We smiled and made our way towards the shore.  I thought of the Seinfeld line where George says, “The sea was angry that day, my Friends” and made a mental note to say that to Steve when I saw him later.  He was probably just getting started when I had that thought.  I had been in the water for an hour. Nick was in the water somewhere.  I figured Erin had passed me in the lake. I wondered where Tracy was.  People were stripping off their wetsuits.  I was smiling.  I made it.  My longest open water swim ever.  In conditions like THAT.  The swim, all by itself, was a victory.  When it was all said and done, I was probably closer to 2 miles because I kept getting so far off course.  But it was time to put the swim behind me and focus on the next part.

I trudged through the sand and stumbled toward the transition.  I heard several people say things like, “Way to go FLEET FEET!”, “No wetsuit! Wow, that’s hard core!” and “Look at that smile!”  I jumped through the little wading pool to rinse my feet and ran past the wetsuit strippers.  I heard someone yelling my name, so I looked to the right and saw my friend and co-worker Claire in her purple FLEET FEET singlet yelling and jumping up and down.  I waved and smiled and kept on going.  Claire’s husband was competing and she was there cheering us on, that was the only time I remember seeing her on the course, but it was perfect timing.

I got to T1, and it was more than half empty of bikes.  I chatted briefly with one of the girls near me about how ridiculous the swim was, as I was putting on my helmet, socks, cycling shoes, sunglasses.  I stuck a banana in my pocket.  I grabbed my bike off the rack.  Am I forgetting anything?  I looked down and saw my gloves, so I bent down to get them and headed out for the bike.

I made it to the bike leg.  I didn’t sink.  I didn’t drown.  I didn’t just survive, I swam.

Wave 7, Females 34-39 (Yellow) lined up at the start and ready for take off…

There is a magnet stuck on my fridge at home with a quote from William James.  It says, “Where ever you are it is your friends who make your world.”  Last weekend proved that to me once again.

On Friday, after work, I began my solitary road trip to Racine, WI, knowing that I had several friends waiting for me at my destination.  But the destination was really just a starting point to our weekend adventure.  Just before midnight, I pulled into the Racine Marriott parking lot, packed with cars decorated with empty bike racks, where Steve, Nick and Nick’s girlfriend Jenny were all waiting up for me, watching Storage Wars.  (Remember a few months ago I shared the text exchange with my anonymous friend “Mick”?  Well, if you didn’t figure it out then, it was really Nick, and Jenny was the mystery woman) Jenny came along last weekend as moral support, Sherpa, cheerleader and troubleshooter.  She has completed not only 70.3, but a full 140.6…Twice!  Her expertise and encouragement were priceless.

On Saturday morning, we took our time getting up and had breakfast of omelets and waffles at the Marriott buffet amidst many athletes dressed in technical gear, announcing bragging rights from previous races.  Then we made our way to downtown Racine where we would make it official.  We checked in, signed waivers, got wristbands, packets and timing chips, freaked out a little and ran into lots of friends including Chad and Tracy, who had an additional surprise…Tracy was sporting a little extra bling on her left ring finger.  What a way to make a big weekend even bigger!  Congrats guys!

LJ, Steve, Nick, Chad, Tracy…Ready to Rumble!

After check in, we headed over to drop our bikes.  Then on to the beach for a practice swim.  The boys had me scared to death that I would be running into Icebergs along the course since it was a whopping 55 degrees on Friday and they declared the water was numbing.  Fortunately the water had warmed up considerably from the day before.  I plunged right into the 64 degree water and told them to stop being a bunch of pansies.   They said, “No really, it was so much colder yesterday!” Uh-huh, sure.  (I actually do believe them, I just like to give them grief)  The water was smooth, we could see the bottom, sighting was easy, the temp was great, and everything was falling into place.  I swam toward Chad, Tracy and Steve out by the buoy.  When I popped up, I sprayed Chad and exclaimed loudly, “Yeeeah! Lindsey learned how to SWIM!”  I was pumped, this was gonna be a good race. Nick eventually made his way out to join us in full wetsuit attire.

After lunch of peanut butter sandwiches by the car, we stopped by the Piggly Wiggly to get some supplies and spent the rest of Saturday lounging.  We grabbed some take-out pasta, brought it back to the hotel and had dinner on the Marriott patio, which Nick dedicated the “Goat Garden”.  Who knew the Marriott had a room just for goats?  Oh, wait, that sign says Coat Room…nevermind.  We laughed a lot, which broke the tension we were all feeling from the nerves and fear.  I fielded many “Good Luck” texts and messages throughout the day, to most of which I responded that I was feeling “nervous and scared and very excited!”  A great mix of emotions.

After we did race prep, like putting bib numbers on race belts and stickers on helmets, gathering all our gear, then double and triple checking that we had absolutely everything, we turned in for an early night.  But we all had a hard time falling asleep.  As we lay there in the dark, I broke the silence after a few minutes, “Umm, I have a dumb question…”  I don’t even remember what I asked, probably something about transition.  Followed by several more rookie questions.  Eventually we all drifted off to sleep and the next thing we knew, at least 3 alarms were beeping, buzzing or singing that it was 4:30am.  The excited, nervous chatter started immediately, even though we still didn’t move from the beds.  At 4:40am, Jenny exited the bathroom, the only of the 4 of us not racing that day, and found the 3 of us still lying in bed watching infomercials.  What’s wrong with this picture?!  We made our way out of bed still taking notes on great products like the Winbot, got dressed in racing gear, ate more peanut butter sandwiches, filled water bottles and made our way to the Pathfinder.  We drove over to the course, found parking and trekked our stuff to T1 to set up our transition areas.

On the way into the transition area we got our body markings.  Lack of coffee caused me to say, “I’m number 316, no, wait, that’s wrong, I’m 613.” Yeah, uh, probably need to get that right. Then she asked my age at the end of the year because that gets written on your calf, to which I replied, “No fair, I’m an October birthday”.  But she assured me it’s an even bigger accomplishment the older you are.  So, I said, “Ok, if we’re talking accomplishments, then can you also write on there that I’m a single mom of 3?”  She laughed and said, “Honey, I’ll write anything you want.”

RRG chatting it up with the Transition neighbor

Once inside T1, we saw friends, took pictures, filled tires, generally just tried to keep from freaking out.  At 6:30 they closed the transition area and evacuated all athletes.  On my way out, I saw Karen; we hugged and freaked out a little.  We assured each other we could do this, and then we hugged again.  And one more hug for the road before her parting word to me was “Ohmmm”.  Finally we separated, she headed to the start, I headed to the bathroom line.  It was long, but it seemed to be moving.  Less than an hour until my wave start.  Tracy and Chad walked by on their way to the
start, I said I’d be right behind them.

I got through the line, met back up with Jenny and the boys and we embarked upon the mile walk up the beach to the start line.  We looked out at the water and saw that it was considerably more choppy than the day before.  Choppy but not as bad as my swim in Lake Michigan the week before.  Not yet anyway.  My mom called to say good luck, she was on her way to watch me and she hoped to get there before I took off on the bike.  Steve guess-timated the bike would take me 3:30-45 (Ha! Boy did I show him!)  As we walked up the beach, the waves grew bigger and bigger.  I started to second guess my decision to ditch the wetsuit, especially as I saw that I was very possibly the ONLY person in the field of 2200 athletes who was not wearing one.  That’s ok; I’ve always been kind of a non-conformist.  I got one last hug from Nick, Jenny and Steve, kicked off my flip-flops and made my way through the crowd while the boys began the process of wetsuit robing.  Erin found me and we scanned the beach for Tracy, “She was just right here”, Erin said.  Then we heard an announcement for wave 7, women 35-39 to get in line.  I bolted and started pushing through the crowd knowing that people were probably wondering why I waited so long.  When I arrived at the start line wild-eyed and frantically searching the crowd of yellow swim-capped heads for a familiar face, I couldn’t have been happier to hear Tracy’s voice yelling my name.  She said I still had a couple minutes, so I should jump in the water to get acclimated.  I pulled my swim cap on, spit into my goggles, and marched out into the waves, aware of all the eyes on me wondering where my wetsuit was.  I looked at one guy with his mouth gaping open and said, “Yeah, that’s right, I’m that crazy girl.”  Then I dove into the water.  As I tried to get up to walk back to the shore, the force of the waves knocked me back down.  Oh my, this swim is going to be interesting.  Little did I know of the challenge I was in for…

It’s official. #613 is all checked in.