2010: A Triathlon Odyssey

To say it has been an interesting year would be an understatement! It has been quite a wild ride and blogging a recap is bound to be somewhat anti-climactic. So here goes....(insert theme music here)....2010: A Triathlon Odyssey.


2010 was about dreaming the impossible.

I dared to believe I could finished an Ironman. And then, for good measure, I had the absolute privilege and opportunity of being able to race in Kona. It isn't about winning, it is about dreaming the impossible, working hard and making it happen. And sometimes, those dreams are possible.

2010 was about doing things I swore I was never going to do again.

After 2009, I vowed never to run four marathons in one year yet here I am reflecting on 2010, realizing that I did it again. Damn those marathons for sneaking up on me. Cross my heart, 2011 will be the year of No Mary.

After crossing the line at IMC, I also vowed never, ever to do another Ironman. And, yet, 6 weeks later I was quite acutely aware of this vow as I lined up to do it again. I guess "never" has its limitations (especially with Kona on the line), but it still never ceases to amaze me how quickly humans can compartmentalize our experiences, forget the pain and suffering and lay it all on the line again.

2010 was about finding inspiration when the going got tough.

And when I speak of inspiration, I am not talking about superheroes or Chrissie Wellington. I owe a debt of gratitude to my family and my friends - were it not for them providing equal parts support, butt kicking and patience, it just would not have been the same. To Jeanne for being real, Mom and Dad for keeping me grounded, Jared for forcing me to do hill repeats, Coach Calvin for teaching me regimen, Jeremy for showing that fearlessness is good, Shane/Dave/Steve/Andrew/Gregg for provoking me to ride harder than I thought I could (damn you!), Greg & Tav for encouraging me to believe in myself and Hoz (as only an ultramarathoner can) for opening my eyes to the fact that we can go a long, long way if we hang in there. There are so many more people I am forgetting to mention here that influenced me so positively in training and in life...thank you so much.

2010 was about logging a lot of miles.

My GPS logs say that I ran 2,277 kilometres, rode 6,011 kilometres and swam 257 kilometres. In aggregate - 8,545 kilometres traveled on my own steam, well worth any number of Honey's donuts as reward I would think!

I raced two half-marathons, two open marathons, two half-ironmans, two ironmans, two mass rides, a trail half marathon relay, an olympic distance tri, my first 5k and a couple 10ks for good measure. That is a whole lotta GU consumed!

As 2010 fades away into the training logs and plans get drawn up for a new season, it is hard to imagine a year quite as amazing as this one has been.

2011, you have a lot to live up to.

Impromptu racing! Funky Munky hits the Marin Headlands.

Not *quite* ready to throw in the towel for the 2010 season, I entered the North Face Endurance Challenge marathon relay this weekend in Marin County, CA. I was traveling to San Francisco for work the following week and we knew a few others running the distance events at the North Face (50 miler + 50k). Turns out there were spots open for the marathon relay, hence Team Funky Munky was born.


There were of course a glitches. First, I haven't run trail for nearly three years. Next, the relay was actually a four person relay and since Funky Munky only had two members we had to run 2 laps apiece. Easy peasy, right? Oh yeah, and the last one, which was that I had not run further than 10k at glacial pace on flat, flat since the NYC marathon three weeks ago. Pffft.

The race is situated in the Marin Headlands, just north of San Francisco. The course is fairly non-technical terrain sandwiched between the stunning vistas of the Pacific Ocean and Sausalito - we were told to expect five stars of scenery combined with five stars of elevation change!

The marathon relay was four 6.2 mile loops with a profile of one mile mildly rolling net downhill, loong three mile ascent (featuring 900 feet of wind-sucking elevation gain), sharp one mile descent, mildly rolling net uphill for the final mile. Our race plan was quite simple: run munky run! I would lead off, followed by Donovan for a second lap. He would decide at the end of the second lap whether to do two consecutive and I would either enter again at lap three, or pull in the anchor at lap 4.

There were about 40 relay teams and our initial observation of our competition was that they seemed quite fast. Many of the girls looked *tough* and trail-worthy, and lots of them were very seriously warming up before the race. Never mind that I was afraid of sucking wind on the ascent!

The start was VERY fast and I settled to the mid-back of the pack for the first section, which was mainly on the road. Most of the mixed teams had females starting, so there seemed to be about 20 girls in the starting pack, a good number of them blowing past me right away. I looked down and saw a 4:15/km on my GPS - my only thought was whoa, settle down, we gotta tow this thing uphill...this is NOT the time to go blasting out. And this gut reaction turned out to be exactly right. As soon as we hit the trail, the free ride on the downhill stopped. I quickly passed about 6 people whose momentum had totally faded.

It was not all easy cruising though. The hill REALLY sucked. A couple of very strong girls plowed past me at the bottom third and I couldn't even contemplate chasing. I ended up walk/running the top third of the hill (posting some very sexy 7:00/km splits). However, I also realized that no one was passing at the top...which meant everyone else was sucking as much as I was!

The top of the hill at the 4 mile mark featured some absolutely stunning vistas over Sausalito - one could not help but slow down to gawk a little. And then, since what comes up must come down, it was rock and roll time. The elevation gained over 3 miles uphill was lost over one mile downhill. This means one thing: WHEEEEEEE!!!!!! I figured I was about 3 or 4 back of the lead female and ran like a flying banshee, on the verge of being totally out of control. It was exhilarating. Bliss. Wind in my face. By the bottom of the hill, I was lead female. Totally wicked fun. :D

I beat Donovan's expectations of time by about 5 minutes and he was barely in place at the hand-off when I finished my loop. Munky One done. Munky Two, GO!

The course was fast and I knew Donovan would rip it up...no way would he hold off so he could do two consecutive laps, it was just too much damned fun to let 'er rip on the downhill! 46 minutes later, Munky Two signaled that I would be jumping in as Munky Three - he would take a break and anchor.

Let's just say that it was a somewhat less-spunky Munky that took to the trails. We were in third place after Donovan's lap and I knew I was going to have trouble holding our place. My less-than-adequate training gave me what I deserved, as did some stomach cramps on the second ascent. There was more walking than running the second time up...but I did manage to save some WHEEEEE!!! for the downhill. Three minutes slower on the second lap. Still respectable. Go Munky Four!

Donovan lost a lot of spunk on his anchor lap...but we managed a 3:30 and a pretty decent 4th place finish. With 4000 feet of ascent over 44km and our handicap of 2 laps apiece, Funky Munky managed to be pretty OK for a couple of silly ol' road runners!

I give the North Face folks an A+ for a well-executed and organized event - it was a whole lotta fun from start to finish. The shuttle service from the city was quick and flawless (well, aside from the motion sickness induced by a school bus ride in the Marin headlands!), food and entertainment were plentiful, trails well marked and provisioned with volunteers, never mind the were fantastic sponsors (GU, Nuun, Gore-tex and of course, North Face). In true trail running style, the start was a little late and the course was actually a little long, but it was just too much fun to matter!

A lesson in persistence

Last January, I entered the ING New York City marathon with a guaranteed entry. I had always promised myself that I would run the NYC 26.2 on the caveat that I had to qualify...no lottery! I had previously met the qualifying time but for one reason or another let it lapse, so when I met the standard in Arizona last January, I bucked up and entered NYC.

Of course, I had no idea that my training for the marathon would involve 2 x Ironman in the preceding 10 weeks and a mere 2 weeks of *training* for the marathon. In the days leading in to the race I had a pretty good idea that my performance would be somewhat less than optimal. I had no leg speed, no long pace runs and definitely was a little more than exhausted...of course that did not stop me from trying!

There were nearly 45,000 entrants to the race, organized in a very complicated system of bib colors, corrals and wave starts. We left downtown Manhattan at 5:15am to catch our coach (note BAA, I said COACH, not yellow school bus!) out to Staten Island. The first wave start was at 9:40am, so we had over four hours of time to kill in the makeshift village..and it was COLD!! The potties were plentiful, lots of hot coffee and because we arrived so early, we had no issue finding a somewhat warmer spot under a tent to sit and relax. As the crowds kept piling of the buses and piling into the start areas, it really made me appreciate how huge an event the race was. The biggest races I had participated in previously were Boston and the Nike Women's, each in the low 20,000's. NYC is just absolute semi-controlled chaos.

We were permitted into the "start" corrals at 8:10, and I was relieved (no pun intended) to discover that there were potties in the corrals. Unlike Boston, in New York you spend a long, long time in the corral. At about 9:00 we started to move forward to the the start on the Verrazano Narrows bridge. I had drawn short straw and was in the starting corral UNDER the bridge. So you know that dramatic start that you see in all the publications with the masses coming across the bridge? Missed that. I got to be a troll under the bridge instead...and the start was decidedly less than epic.

We didn't even really know that the gun had gone off except for the surge and I was surprised to find that the corrals had actually been smashed together such that I was really only about 100m back of the start line. It was the most anti-climactic start I have ever experienced. Being mashed in the corral had also unknowingly protected me from the elements. As soon as the crowd dispersed, we were hit by a huge wash of cold air and brutal cross wind under the bridge. It was awful under that bridge - no view, no GPS signal, very windy and very cold. Coming off the lower bridge deck, my lungs were burning and I felt as though I had just finished a sprint on a dry, cold winter day. Not a good feeling.

Since my GPS had conked out under the bridge deck, I also had no idea what my pace was or how far we had gone. Watch said 6km and 20 minutes elapsed...obviously I was not running 3:30 kilometres so something was amiss. My HR was also brutally high - 184 across the bridge, so I deliberately slowed down. At the 5km mark my watch said 23 minutes so I was on track for what I would normally pace an open marathon at. The question was...how long could I hold that pace given my sub-optimal training?

The race through Brooklyn was incredibly congested and chaotic, and a total spectacle. The cheering crowds, however, were plentiful and enthusiastic...in fact, other than over the Verrazano, I don't think there were any gaps in the spectators at all. The sun was out and it was a glorious day to cheer on a race. As I ran through the boroughs, I recalled the Fred Lebow movie "Run For Your Life" and really appreciated the storied history of the race.

The answer to the question of how long the legs would hold out came swiftly as we entered Manhattan on the Queensborough Bridge. Just past the halfway mark, we crossed a small bridge that was rather heartbreaking despite its short distance. My legs started informing me that they were not happy with the expectations being placed on them, and I knew it was just a matter of time. Brain said yes, legs said hell no. By the time I reached the Queensborough at 16 miles (25k) with its steady climb, I was done. Hips started cramping, knees ached, quads hated me, general fatigue threatened.

My legs loosened up a bit on the off-ramp into Manhattan and I was somewhat hopeful that I would bounce back, but just as the exit jackknifed to the left to spill us out onto 1st Avenue the runner directly in front of me stopped dead in his tracks with a leg cramp. Like an idiot, I smacked right into the back of him with nowhere to go. My left hamstring pulled and froze, and then both legs completely cramped up with the sudden stop. Another runner behind stopped for me to ensure that I could keep going (I was quite appreciative of him), but this was the final straw for my legs. Their contempt for me was complete.

As we ran up 1st Avenue, the blocks were ticking away and it was mentally difficult to see the street numbers - I was on 60th and knew I needed to go to 127th before I crossed into the Bronx. Then I would need to descend back down to 57th to enter the Central Park finish line and THEN go back up again. It felt like a long, long way. At this point, I had slowed considerably and neither my head nor my legs were really in the race anymore. My 1:40 first half now was impossible to match and I would be lucky to finish under 3:40.

It's funny that after doing two Ironmans that running an open marathon would be such a mental challenge, but it was. I was drained and fatigued and just ready for the race to be over. I'm not sure I have ever really checked out of a race like that, but I know for sure that it makes it so much harder to persevere once you stop caring. And when I reached Harlem, I am almost ashamed to admit that I did the unthinkable. I stopped. I sat down on the curb. And I just sat there.

It was the closest I have ever come to DNF'ing. Realizing eventually that it was ridiculous to DNF a race with less than 8k to go, I got up after a couple minutes and just started running again. During the time that I had sat on the curb, the group of runners had swelled and I knew that my little *time-out* had cost me. And at that point, it really bothered me. I resolved not to walk or stop again, apart from briefly at the next aid stations to get some fluid down.

Halfway down 5th Avenue, we turned into Central Park for the final section of the race. This was my favorite part and not just because I was almost done! It was like a breath of fresh air - the road through Central Park was undulating and full of shockingly beautiful trees with their multi-colored fall leaves. The rest of the race had been so urban, industrial and gritty..so very New York. The contrast of the park was a total relief, to be back in some semblance of nature. Aaaaaah.

I realized at the 25 mile mark that what seemed like one in every three runners was walking. It was nuts. I was so disappointed in myself and so determined to salvage a 3:40 that there was no damned way I was walking. Forget the legs. No. More. Walking.

The last mile into Central Park was amazing. People cheering, smiling, happy.

And then it was over. *Bliss*


Happy was short-lived until I realized I now had to hobble another damned mile to stand in line for dry clothes. I am not exaggerating. A frickin' mile. Normally my race report would stop at the finish line, but the crowded, ridiculous march to the baggage trucks deserves a mention. The bag trucks were lined up in REVERSE numerical order, thus the runners having started at the front with low bib numbers had to walk FOREVER to get their bags. Then, once you finally arrived at the baggage trucks, they were so ridiculously disorganized that there were line-ups for 45 minutes to an hour. Bad, bad, bad way to end what was otherwise a decently organized event.

The synopsis? It is a race worth running once in a lifetime, and I had a pretty good half all things considered. However, a marathon is not won until 26.2 miles have been traveled. Finish time was a yucky 3:36:36...not pretty, but I got what I deserved by letting the devil in my head trick me into thinking that I should quit.

And now? The off-season. Yay!!!!!

A very hot, long day in Hawaii

A year ago, I watched Ironman Kona unfold online from my hotel room in Victoria BC, the day before running the 2009 Victoria Marathon. At that time, I had exactly two triathlons under my belt (a sprint and an oly) and had the very daunting task ahead of me of training for Ironman Canada 2010.

Only in the wackiest of fantasies could I have imagined that in one year I would be toeing the line with 1800 of the world's best triathletes at the 2010 Ford Ironman World Championship.

Yet, it was somehow possible, and at 3:30am on Saturday October 9, 2010 I greeted the humid Kona dawn to begin what would be a very challenging and humbling day.

I was a bit less nervous than at IMC because I (kind of) understood what was about to unfold. With some mild reluctance, I accepted my fate for the day - it would be hot, it would be hard and it would hurt. Kona is known to be very challenging at the best of times, never mind when you are only six weeks out from your first Ironman. As such, my goal was simple - to finish by 8pm. I deliberately set expectations low because I wanted to enjoy the day as much as possible rather than fixating on a time goal. The key was to relish the fact that I was really in Kona at the Big Show.

The open water swim in Kailua Bay brought with it all kinds of evil for a nervous swimmer like me. Not only are wetsuits banned, but the swim start was like nothing I have experienced - we had to tread water for 10 minutes before the gun went off! It was total, uncontrolled chaos. I tried as best I could to stay calm, but there was really no good spot to be in and it was hard to keep moving forward. The swells were nauseating and the current was maddening. I also swallowed more than my fair share of salt water! My time of 1:22 was pretty pathetic, but I am ecstatic just to have survived....after all, the prospect of a 3.8k ocean swim sans wetsuit is very terrifying to me.

Seeing the 1:22 on the clock as I exited, I had two opposing thoughts: thank goodness it was not 1:30, and damn, that is really, really slow. There were flashbacks to my first triathlon when I got back to transition and there were no bags left on the rack. Throwing in the proverbial towel was definitely in my mind at T1.

T1 was a soppy wet gong show - I left with sunscreen dripping off me and into my eyes, and felt really flustered knowing how far back I was.

I relaxed a little heading out onto the bike and it was quite enjoyable to ride the first section through town. The "hot corner" of Kuakini and Palani was piled full of spectators and was fun. The uphill section on Kuakini was a bit of a shock to my heart rate, however, so I just kept my cadence high and focused on enjoying the surroundings.

The pace noticeably increased as the riders hit the Queen K. Seeing the string of riders ahead of me on the Queen K drove home the amazing reality that I was actually competing here...oops, I said that word...."competing", not "participating". It was forseeable that my mindset would change as soon as I got on my bike and I didn't fight it too much. The first 2 hours of the ride was (controllably) fast and fun! I had some mild cramping (which I attribute to the salt water consumption on the swim), but stuck to my nutrition plan of a salt pill + gel every 45 minutes and as much GU Brew and water as I could handle.


The fast and fun bit had to end, though! The Kona bike course is famous for two things - the heat, and the wind - and Madame Pele did not disappoint on this day. By the time I reached Kawaihae, it was sweltering hot. I kept an eye on the ocean since a few riders had advised me that rough water was a sure sign of the Hawi winds. Sure enough - about halfway up the ascent to Hawi, I saw the whitecaps warning me that I had few precious moments before it was time to just hang on. I downed two gels, a salt tab and dumped the last of my GU Brew into my Speedfil, just in time for the cyclone to hit. For the next 45 minutes up to Hawi and back down the hill, the wind gusts threw me around like a piece of lettuce. It was crazy.

What should have been an enjoyable descent out of Hawi was a relentless struggle to stay focused and stay on my bike. I could see the riders in front of me getting hit with the swirling wind and paid absolute attention to what was going on in front of me, knowing that in a few seconds I would get hit by the exact same gusts of cross wind. My guess is that the gusts were 50kph+. There were a few embankments that offered some temporary relief from the cross wind - I used these to relax a bit, take sips of water and get a gel down.

After returning through Kawaihae, the dead heat of the lava struck. There was not a cloud in the sky and the heat was vicious (I was later told that the temperature had been 44 degrees Celsius in the lava fields). Around 120km, I became cognizant of pain - the nerves in my metatarsal pads were screaming ( it is a condition called "hot feet" - it feels like someone is taking a blow torch to the pads of your feet) and my forearms were pasty red with sunburn. There was nothing I could do about either. None of the aid stations had sunscreen when I asked. Spending the last 60km in the barren lava fields in the sweltering heat of the day definitely teaches you a thing or two about yourself.

When I reached the airport, my focus was on getting the last of my nutrition down, picking up my cadence and relaxing a bit - I needed those legs to run on. It was totally humbling to see the pro men leaders coming out of the energy lab as I was rolling back into town on my bike. Are you kidding me? They were almost done....and I had a full marathon to run.

T2 was painful. The sunburn on my forearms and back was searing as the volunteers gobbed on sunscreen, and the pads of my feet were not happy to be covered with compression socks. Aside from the pain I was already experiencing was the reality that it was 2:30pm and I was about to go run a marathon in the blazing sun. This would be the hardest 26.2 miles ever.

The marathon was less a run and more of a hobble from aid station to aid station. This was my survival tactic and I formed a little bit of a routine through each aid station. Grab water. Dump it on my head. Grab another water, drink it. Grab a coke, drink it. Grab as many sponges and ice as I could hold. Sometimes I even dumped cola on my face and drank the sponges. It didn't matter. The whole thing was crazy and ridiculous and hard.

On the run course, I cried. I hurt and I didn't care anymore.

The first 16k out-and-back on Ali'i Drive was humid and tough, but in retrospect I realize that at least there were people to cheer and some nice views of the ocean. Comparatively, the final 26k out and back along the Queen K to the energy lab was a nightmarish hell. Lava, lava everywhere and nothing to look at but the long hot road stretching out ahead of you. Talk about a lesson in perseverance.

Miraculously though, somewhere along the murderous Queen K I started feeling kind of ok. Maybe it was the 28 glasses of cola or the 18 salt pills or the Tylenol gel caps or just the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other. I reached the halfway mark in 2:01 and was floored. It was painful and it was slow, but I could get this thing over with in two more hours. 8pm be damned....the motivation to finish by 6:30pm sans glow stick was huge.


Along the back half of the marathon, I started chatting to the other runners and cheering on the runners going in the opposite direction. It felt good and removed me from the pain I was feeling. We were all in this together, and there was no point in suffering alone. Some of the conversations were hilarious - one lady kept talking about all the food she wanted to eat....pizza, fries, milkshake. I had to run away from her because she was making me nauseous!!

And miraculously, the last hill up to Palani appeared. And then the glorious downhill until I reached the crowds of Ali'i Drive. Tears of joy appeared as I ran down Ali'i and at 6:31pm I crossed the finish line at the Ford Ironman World Championship. It is not a moment I will forget soon.

Kona is a truly humbling experience - to finish in 11:31 and be in the middle of the pack is very eye opening. Over two-thirds of the finishers come in under twelve hours. I finished 48th in my age group out of 90, but considering that I was keeping company with the world's best in my rookie year at this sport AND only six weeks after my Ironman debut and qualifying race at Ironman Canada, I am pretty happy with the result. There were some truly amazing athletes out there - the young, the old, the fit and the disabled. All amazing.

The day was very, very tough. Not only were the conditions totally extreme - heat, wind, humidity all wreaked havoc - but the course was challenging to boot. It was easily the most difficult race I have ever done and possibly the most difficult thing I have ever done period. There were many moments of reaching inside and digging in when I felt had absolutely nothing left, and I am so glad I didn't quit.

Aloha!!

Kona gear check

Have been busy this morning making last minute preparations and packing my gear bags. Shortly I will head off to check my bike in.

It always boggles my mind how gear intensive triathlons are! Here is a run down of my Kona gear - some old, some new, all tested and true:

Swim:

Aqua Sphere Kaiman goggles with smoke lenses

Orca RS1 Killa swimskin

Bike:

Orbea Ora TLT, Shimano ultegra

Shimano Dura Ace 7850 wheels with Michelin Pro3 race tires

Fi'zik Vitesse tri saddle

Specialized S-works road helmet

Garmin Forerunner 310XT with heart rate monitor

Sugoi fizz tank, LG tri shorts

Shimano TR-51 tri shoes

Speedfil hydration system

Sugoi C9 gel gloves

Run:

Mizuno Wave Elixir 5 with Yankz speed laces

Camelbak Charm 1.5L hydration pack

Sugoi Timex R&R compression socks

Speed Theory branded Headsweats cap

Nutrition:

GU Brew in Blueberry Pomegranate

GU Roctane in Vanilla Orange + Island Nectar (yum!)

GU Chomps in Cranberry and Watermelon

Thermolyte electrolyte tablets

That's a whole lotta gear!!

Kona race week

Race week in Kona has officially arrived. The buzz around Dig Me beach in Kailua is pretty infectious and Ali'i Drive is a lycra, visor and compression wearing scene. There are fit people everywhere, and you don't have to look to hard to find the pros amongst them.

It has been a fun week so far, though the reality that I'm going to have to race in 5 days really kicked in when I picked up my bib today. Since arriving on Saturday, the days have been slipping by rather quickly!

It has been busy - I've run Ali'i Drive a few times (including a charity 10k race on Sunday), rode a few sections of the course and enjoyed a couple swims. Every Ironman swim should be as scenic as the one here! The water is clear, there are lots of colorful fish (humuhumunukunukuapua'a!) and you can see the bottom the entire way. Who knew that I would LIKE the swim part!

It's not all a proverbial walk on the beach though. It's hot, humid and windy. The crosswinds at Hawi did not disappoint on a training ride yesterday - things could get interesting on race day if the winds are that strong. The wheel change was definitely a good thing as we were at the mercy of a solid 30kph wind with gusts that were probably 50-60kph. The person that recommended taking in lots of nutrition before hitting that section of the bike course was a wise, wise person.

Aside from the last few training sessions, we've also been participating in the requisite Kona race week activities - coffee and brunch at Lava Java this morning, hitting the booths along Ali'i Drive for samples, and on Thursday the Kona undie run! It was like being in a candy store running along Ali'i this morning - bag check in at the King Kam, stops for Nuun, Cytomax and Perform along the way and lots of freebie recovery drink at the end. Every training run should be like this!

Most of all, it is an honor to be here to take it all in and very humbling to be beside so many accomplished athletes. Getting to Kona is one thing - being fast here means something entirely different indeed and I am totally out of my league. My focus will be on trying to have fun and trying to finish - it's pretty unreal that I am going to have the opportunity to race Kona, with all its lore and infamy. Here's hoping Madame Pele wants me on her team on Saturday!

Countdown to Kona: the more things stay the same, the more they change.

There is something to be said about the comfort of having a routine. The chill in the air, dark mornings and early sunsets remind me constantly that summer has slipped away, yet here I am continuing to train day in and day out. Figuratively, I'm the girl left dancing at the bar long after the lights have switched on and everyone else has gone home. Except there is no dancing. Just more miles to log.

I'm content to live this way because it is the way life has been for a long time. Wake up early, work out, scramble around, eat lots, fall into bed exhausted. Swim, bike, run, repeat. The repetition is comforting and my weekly routine is well worn in. Thankfully those around me have been accepting of my new pastime (or at least feigned tolerance for it).

Yet despite how unchanged things seem to me personally, I am reminded that life does not stand still. It feels like everyone and everything else around me is moving on. My training partners are selling their gear, signing up for fall marathons and taking trips that do not involve packing copious amounts of lycra. New goals are being set for a new season. Work commitments scream for attention, and a promotion at work demands a renewed focus on doing a great job at being something other than an amateur athlete with some crazy goals. The awareness of just how long I have been engrossed in the madness of training for Ironman is quite sobering.

And yet, despite the continued craziness, I feel like a giddy child who is going to Disneyland. I have a bib number for Kona and a plane ticket to get there. Not in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this.

I'm anxious, scared and thrilled at the same time - the intimidation factor is enormous! Eighteen months ago I could not swim 25m. I struggled to finish my first marathon five years ago and worked my butt off to get a little better at running. I bought my first road bike at age 34 and eventually learned how to stay upright on it, but not without more than a few mishaps. Would I call myself a triathlete? Ha. Not really. I'm just a geeky tax accountant. And yet, I am going to have a chance to participate in Kona as just a regular, normal person beside some very amazing athletes - it is very thrilling and formidable and daunting and overwhelming.

So for the next few weeks, I need to forget about all of that big stuff and just keep doing more of the same ol' thing. It is time to train smart, stay level and embrace the experience - I am so, so very fortunate to have a chance to do this.