Triathlon/Ironman FAQ's

During the course of my training for this past Ironman Cozumel (my 2nd Ironman) and after my successful completion of the race, many people have asked me all kinds of questions.  So I decided to answer them here.

1. How the HELL do you find time to train?

If you are training for a sprint triathlon, depending on how fit you are going into it, how comfortable you are with each of the 3 sports, and what your performance expectations are on race day, it isn't a huge time commitment.  You can train for 4 hours/week if you already know a stroke beyond doggie paddle, and you're not out to set a course record (on the fast side).

2.  But for an Ironman - isn't that a HUGE time commitment?

I won't kid you - it is.  Which is why for each of my Ironman races, which were held on Thanksgiving weekend, I only dedicated 10.5 weeks to race preparation.  During those weeks, I am averaging 20-24 hours of training per week.  During that time, I am getting up way before dawn to either work or to train.  My husband is doing much more round the house and with the kids than he normally does (a great side benefit!).  My extended family will start sending hate emails because of my lack of communication.  My friends have to track me on Facebook to know my whereabouts, which I can easily update from my iPhone while at a stoplight or waiting for the kids' bus.  Television?  Yeah right.  Housekeeping? Outsourced/lax.

3. How does a busy parent, or even more so, a working parent, train for an Ironman?

The average triathlete earns $162,000/year and during a 4-hour training ride last month I realized why this is. In order to be able to train for an Ironman, you need to either be self-employed (so you can have the schedule flexibility) or have a spouse who does very well, so you don't need to be the main breadwinner, and you can instead train (and hire a housekeeper).

That being said, if you are not out to finish an Ironman in 11 hours or less, you can still train for one if the above doesn't apply to you.  But like with any major goal, you will need to prioritize and sacrifice.  Forget the reality TV shows, the happy hours, the sideline gossip sessions while your kids play or train.  Every minute counts - so make it count.

TYPICAL NIGHT

4. I don't like to (or know how to) swim/bike/run...

Normally when you don't like to do one of the above it's because of fear.  Or a previous negative experience.  Or the wrong approach.  In other words, it's all in your head.  If you don't know how to swim, sign up for a class.  If you don't feel comfortable swimming, or it's too hard, ask an experienced swimmer to coach you for a session or two.  It's usually a matter of getting comfortable with the breathing part.  Once you get the breathing and you start to relax in the water, it will flow.  (If you had a seriously bad experience like you were on the Disney cruise and Goofy turned round suddenly and knocked you overboard and you've never gotten over that, you may need more intervention but it still gets back to just getting comfortable in the water, with the right instruction).

For biking, again, find a mentor or go to the local bike shop and find out about group rides (or come to one of mine).  It can certainly be intimidating to think about riding along roads riddled with potholes, squirrels, zoned-out minivan moms and texting teens.  Riding with company takes off a lot of the angst.

If you have any discomfort when running, it may be you need new shoes, or your stride is unnatural, or the muscles supporting your knees are weak.  Talk to me, or your local coach about this for guidance.  Get the book Born to Run.

5. I'm a runner and have done some 10ks and half marathons, maybe even a marathon or two (or maybe just 5k's) and am thinking about finding out what all the hype is about re: triathlons.  But I'm a little overwhelmed!

Awesome!!  That's how I started - I was looking for a way to cross train, to prevent injuries but also because I didn't aspire to being a skinny ninny runner.  Triathletes seemed to have healthier all-around bodies.

Thinking of the multisport experience in terms of all the gear and the training (I need a bike!  Where can I swim?!) can be overwhelming.  So let's break it down.  Unless the triathlon is in 2 months, you have some time.  So that brings it to step one... Find a local triathlon.  You'll probably want to start off small, with a sprint (.5 mile swim, 10-15 mile bike, 3.1 mile run).  Sign up - many sell out!

Next - if you don't have a bike, start making spinning part of your workout regimen.  Find out if there's a local triathlon club (such as the YMCA Tri Club).  Contact them and ask if there is anyone willing to answer your questions and mentor you.  Ask if they can recommend a bike shop.  Start looking at bikes and check into last year's models (road bikes).  Go from there.

When looking for a place to swim, here are some considerations:  what are the lap swim hours?  Are these feasible for you?  Is there childcare available?  Masters swim classes?  Will you have to wait for lanes?  How convenient is the location for you?  Is the pool located somewhere that you can on some days hop out of the pool and onto a bike or treadmill for a brick (back-to-back workout eg swim-to-run or bike-to-run)?

6. Tell me the truth - what are the costs of being a triathlete?


Excellent question.  Like with any pursuit, there are sacrifices, or costs.  In several areas.  And it all depends on your level of competition and commitment but in general:

• FINANCIAL:  buy a bike; maintain a bike; upgrade a bike; ship or pack a bike.  Gym/pool membership.  Coaching.  Triathlon club.  Race registration fees.  Travel expenses.  Babysitters.  Healthy food.  Supplements.  New running shoes every 500 miles.  Heart Rate monitor.  Smartphone applications to track workouts.  Wetsuit.  Bike shorts, long tights, bike jersies (sleeveless, short sleeves, long sleeve).  Bike gloves.  Bike accessories.  Bike shoes for clipless pedals.  Helmet.  Bike computer.  Windbreaker.  Sunglasses.  Goggles.  Swimsuits.  Chiropractor. Massage.  New jeans because you're skinnier.  Sweatproof sunscreen.  USA Triathlon membership.  iTunes music.  mp3 player.  Waterproof mp3 player.  Housekeeper.  

• TIME:  commuting to pool; planning the week around workouts; logging your workouts; washing all the workout clothes (sometimes 2-3 outfits in one day, with Ironman training); maintaining bike; researching races and triathlon stuff online; commuting to classes or group workouts; ordering stuff online; concocting special smoothies with protein & greens; arranging group workouts

• RELATIONSHIPS: when training for a major race, whether it's your first sprint, or an Ironman, you will undergo a transformation that will affect your relationships with those closest to you.  Your spouse and kids will go through an adjustment period especially if you were typically the main caretaker and therefore in many ways at their beck and call.  It is important to talk to your spouse about how important this is for you, and how your happiness and good health are ultimately very much crucial to your family's happiness and health.  (At this point it is completely appropriate and very wise to dangle a carrot, such as a race in a fabulous destination - and they're invited - or a promise of pumpkin pancakes in bed every Saturday morning).  Most people don't like change and they especially don't like it if it wasn't their idea and decision.  But as long as you ease them into it, make them feel to some extent like participants in the decision making, and show them all the benefits to them - it should go more smoothly.   As far as friendships go, you will start to become friendly with like-minded people who are typically fitness conscious, motivated, optimistic.  You may see less of some of your other friends but hopefully they will decide to follow your example and start going for runs or rides with you.  If anyone tells you that you're crazy to do this, or they in any way try to discourage you, just remember, they're throwing their own insecurities, hang ups and mental junk on you.  Ignore it and listen to that inner voice that's saying, if she thinks I'm crazy then I must be doing something right.

7. I can't imagine doing an Ironman.  You must be in incredible shape/ a natural born athlete/ much more driven than me/ have much more extra time on your hands than I have/ supernatural/ f-ing insane.

I'm definitely not supernatural.  I am in great shape now but I still have some jiggly spots (I refuse to give up all culinary pleasures).  I didn't do any formal sports growing up so was far from being called a jock.  Between my photography business, my coaching, several major projects I've got in the works, 2 kids, a very energetic dog, a local ultimate frisbee league I organized a couple of years ago, a book I'm rewriting, after school programs I create & run, a passion for reading and cooking... etc... I definitely don't have more time than you.  I just choose to spend my time in certain perhaps more unusual ways.  I only get my hair cut twice/year, I never get my nails done, I only eat lunch out if it's work-related, I have no local family members to entertain, my house usually hovers between "lived-in" and disastrous (but you will eat a yummy dinner!), I don't watch TV unless it's a Tivo'd Ironman or I'm folding laundry at the same time, I only volunteer at my kids' school if it's something I will really enjoy (i.e. I refuse to be guilted into stuff).

Most triathletes don't do a full Ironman because it does take a huge level of commitment and sacrifice not only from the athlete but also his/her support crew (family/loved ones).  That being said, when I signed up for my first sprint in 2005 Ironman was nowhere on my radar.  It's funny where life takes you - if you allow it.

8. What was the hardest part of your Ironman?

The mental game is the hardest.  Cozumel, for example, is 3 loops.  Three loops on the bike (112 miles total), 3 loops on the run (26.2 miles total).  It's tough knowing that after a loop you're only a third done. It's tough knowing that when I'm still on loop 3 of the bike, the winners are already finishing the marathon.  When you're in the marathon and your body starts to break down (which happens when you're someone who finishes an Ironman in 13-17 hours; 17 hours is the max, after that you're disqualified), it's tough dealing with the nausea, queasiness, aches & pains.  And that's not even taking into consideration all the environmental circumstances that may be thrown your way (wind, heat, terrain).

What kept me going at these times was:

• HUMOR: "what level of insanity have I reached that I'm doing this?? And paid $525 for it??"
• FOCUS: focus on the goals I'd set beforehand for myself - to be patient with myself, to be steady and steadfast, to race with dignity and integrity, to support my fellow athletes and acknowledge the supportive crowds and volunteers, to race with gratitude
• ACCOUNTABILITY: knowing that a lot of people were tracking me via GPS and Facebook and I didn't want to make a fool of myself!
• FAITH: in myself, in my coach, in God

9.  How did you feel afterwards?

Relieved!!  It was different this time around.  After my first Ironman I felt complete euphoria and wonder and awe - at the magnitude of what I and my fellow athletes had done.  This time I knew I could tackle such a distance, so the emotions were different.  I was really happy to have my family to watch me this time (last time it was only Bill, this time it was Bill, the kids, my sister and her family, my dad & stepmom).  Whatever was lost from it not being the same as the first time (yes, cliché), was made up for in the amazement on my family members' faces, and interacting with a few first-timers, egging them on.

Physically, I felt pretty much nothing after the race.  My rump was sore from 7.5 hours on the bike but tea tree oil took care of that pretty quickly (sorry if it's TMI!), and my lips were chapped.  But that was it.  I attribute this to solid training (thank you coach Janda!) and to my yoga routine, which is basically power yoga, pilates and meditation all in one.  Well, and the fact I didn't go balls-out the way I do in shorter races.  As Janda had said to me a few days beforehand, this was just a long, glorified training day.  And it was a great pretext for a family reunion in a beautiful location!!

10. Will you do it again?

I would love to do Ironman Cozumel IF...

• Bill (my husband) is enthusiastic about it (again) and...
• a few people will agree to go with me and make this either their first Ironman or their first international race (see my offer!)

And if I do it again, I believe I will start training much sooner so that I do better, not because of any need to set a monstrous PR (personal record), just because 14-15 hours is a looooooooong time to be exercising!

Ironmom 2010

This 41-yr-old mother of two, who was 30 lbs or so overweight in her 20s, suffered from bulimia in her teens, was nicknamed “Tortuga” (turtle) during her 2 weeks on the high school track team… just finished her second full Ironman.  The first one was the inaugural Ironman Cozumel in 2009.  This second one was… Ironman Cozumel.  I know, you’d think I’d try another venue or pick something closer to home, or at least pick a different race for the sake of variety.  Especially since both the bike & the run segments of Coz entail 3 loops each -  so for a girl who loves variety, my choice of race may be a tad puzzling.  The reason I decided to do another Ironman, however, was mainly because of Cozumel – i.e. unlike most Ironman triathletes, I didn’t decide I wanted to subject myself to a gazillion hours of training and a day of grit & sweat, so let’s see where I should do it (Florida? Idaho? Wisconsin? Lake Placid?).  No, for me it was that I love Mexico so much, and Mexican hospitality, and the chance to pour my money and spread some empowering energy into a poor community.  Add to that the fact that my sister, so impressed with my first IM finish, decided that she and her family would travel from Denmark to witness me do it again, and my dad said the same (from Myrtle Beach).  We hadn’t all been in Mexico together in about 20 years (we lived in Mexico City for 10 years as kids), so this was a great idea for a family reunion.

Once again we eschewed the local hotels and instead rented a house from an American couple I was referred to by some Facebook friends who found me online after spectating last year’s IM and being so struck by it they decided to come down and watch it every year (and friended me on Facebook).  We got here on Thursday evening, 3 days before the race, (Thanksgiving), just enough time to get settled,  have Bill reassemble my bike and get my registration packet on Friday, rack my bike on Saturday, do a few shakeout workouts, and figure out to some extent a spectator plan for my posse.  I was really glad we again planned it this way – not coming too far ahead of the race, and staying for several days afterward.  As far as I’m concerned, coming several days early like most competitors do is a bad idea.  Not only would I psyche myself out too much about the race (talking to triathletes before a race is the equivalent of giving yourself a shot of anxiety – you start thinking how ill-prepared you are, how you should’ve done/packed/thought of this, that and the other) but it’s a waste of a great opportunity to enjoy a beautiful place and all it has to offer.  Of course, if I was racing in Florida I probably would head right back afterwards – which is why I don’t race there.  Traveling to races, especially when my family is involved, must be a total experience for me; the race may be what drew me to a place, but it’s only part of the overall itinerary, which must also include sight-seeing, enjoying local cuisine & culture.  I mean, it’s not like I’m going to win anything after all, and setting a PR isn’t that important to me.  When my kids are grown up, they won’t remember that I set a 7 minute PR this time round, but they will always remember the snorkeling excursion, playing on the beach with their cousins, watching Mami getting a tattoo (it’s just henna).

Bill reassembles the bike

Anyway, race day Sunday I got up at 3:50am to down 800-900 calories (huge bowl of granola with soy milk, soy latte, toasted bagel with a teaspoon of PB, a gatorade).  I had slept surprisingly well in spite of the fact that all day Saturday I was feeling a little anxious.  I remember last year being more excited about it, now I just wanted to get it over with.  I was disappointed for feeling this way and figured at least part of it was the fact that now I had a 9-person fan club who’d traveled from across the world, plus all kinds of people were going to track me online, and I now had more locals rooting for me.  So the expectations were higher.  A few people said “relax – you did it last year, you know you can do it” – but in a way that can add to the stress because you can also twist it to, “I did it last year – so I better do it again this year, and do it better.”  It didn’t help when half way through dinner the house ran out of water (and I was really looking forward to an evening shower).  And then my youngest niece at 9pm accidentally locked the bathroom door, with nobody in the bathroom except all my morning race gear.  The entire house went into a frenzy of trying to figure out how to open the door and I went to bed with a book. About 45 minutes later Bill busted the lock.

Nevertheless, when I woke up I felt completely rested and relaxed.  A feeling of peace had washed over me – must be all my friends’ prayers back home, plus the half hour of meditation I had done the night before.  At 5am we all piled into the van & headed to the start.  We scored rock star parking, and soon I was handing off my Bike and Run Special Needs bags (TISSUES – wasn’t going to run out of TP this time round!! – wet wipes, sunscreen, gu) which were taken on buses to 2 spots on the bike & run courses, should I have special needs – which I didn’t as it turns out.  Over to my bike, placed the 3 bottles I’d filled with water, carbo pro (4 scoops/bottle) & ¼ teaspoon of salt – I was to drink a third of the bottle each hour.  Make sure the 8 gu’s I’d taped to the bike were still there (1/hour).  Touched the tires, yup, they’ve got air, and attached my athlete tracker gizmo Bill had rented for me back in CT, so they could easily follow me on the laptop and plan their appearances along the course.  The tracker was on a race belt, where I’d attached my race number, so I turned on the device and wrapped it round the bike bar (you weren’t supposed to leave anything around the bike but it was ok to leave something on it).

 Racking bike in transition on Saturday

 Our bike clothing bags, dropped off Saturday

 Getting body marked on Saturday

Bill is my official numbers guy (Friday night)

 Headed over to the changing tent when I heard the women’s tent had a row of portapotties & no line, and unveiled my birthday present: my Wonder Woman bathing suit.

Wonder Woman & a Mexican Superhero

The suit was perfect.  It had the intended effect of putting a smile on everyone’s face.  It also had the unintended effect of getting me on everyone’s camera including what I believe to be the official race video.  I’m not a huge fan of being the center of attention but I definitely loved cracking up a bunch of nervous wrecks.  Maria, who had been my virtual friend (email & Facebook), lives in CT and was coached my Marty, my first coach – spotted me and we met for the first time, then hung out until the swim start (she swam a minute or 2 faster than me).  Steve, the new F&B manager at the W Vieques, who moved there after we’d left, and whom I’d met through Facebook, spotted me and came over.  Eventually we all made our way out on the docks, past the dolphins (awesome!!!!!!!) and jumped into the warm, clear water to tread water until the 7am start.  And then we were off!

Like last year, the swim was my favorite part.  I started out at the back of the 2,300-strong pack so didn’t have to deal too much with the usual frenzy of kicks to the face and people swimming over me, instead I focused on the fish, stingray & coral beneath me, the occasional jellyfish sting, the occasional scuba diver below who’d wave at me & take my picture, the fact I’d finally found goggles that didn’t leak, the fact my Wonder Woman suit was one size too large but who cares about the extra drag, it was a helluvalot of fun to wear.  The swim is one loop and the long stretch is mercifully down current.  I got into a groove and was so loving life that suddenly I realized that I had swum on the left side instead of the right side of a buoy, and an official was there, and didn’t make any gestures one way or the other, so she was probably noting my number and I was going to be disqualified.  Talk about jolting me out of my groove.  I considered swimming against the current and the 400 or so swimmers behind me, having a moment of panic there, thinking I could re-swim around the buoy the right way, because it would really suck if I was DQ’d for something so stupid.  But I finally decided f-it – if something so trivial was going to earn me a DQ then so be it, I was going to do this race whether or not my finish was official.

Reached the turn where the submarine is parked, headed back for the relatively short stretch home, suddenly I was swimming over Jesus.  Literally – there is a statue of Jesus in the water.  Thought, “I’m going to have to tell Marni about this!” and giggled.  Hauled myself out of the water & saw my posse right where I’d left them and high fived all 4 kids’ hands as they cheered wildly.  (1:26 – or 4 minutes slower than last year’s swim).  Headed to the women’s tent, where I toweled off, someone helped me get dressed & put sunscreen on my back, hit the portapotty & then out to the bike.  Once again saw my posse as I headed out for my little bike ride.

Having the family here was AMAZING

After all the hills, freezing temperatures, obnoxious motorists I’d survived for 2 months of training, and the glumness of the concrete walls I’d stared at during my indoor trainer sessions, I was not daunted by the 112 miles – 3 loops – ahead of me.  I repeatedly heard coach Janda, and coach Marty (my previous coach) saying, “If you can go faster on the bike – DON’T.”  As dozens of people passed me on the bike I heard my coaches saying, “A lot of those people who blow by you on the bike will regret it when they blow up on the run.”  So I stuck to my ridiculously easy pace, which given the fact that my bike computer had decided to break when Bill reassembled my bike, I could only guess to be a 80 RPM, 15 mph pace.  I kept up the same pace pretty much, while battling the brutal crosswinds on the back side of the island, and while navigating the easier stretches across the island and through town. 

Once again, the crowds were AWESOME.  Ironman Cozumel has become like a national holiday here and its participants are revered like Olympic athletes.  Everyone was out, shouting, clapping, always with that warmth and good cheer particular to Mexicans.  I think one of the reasons I love doing this crazy sport here is because it’s the closest I’ll probably ever come to feeling like a rock star!  (By the way, Ironman athletes get a 15% discount at many shops etc.!  Need to convince your shopaholic family members of why you need to compete here?)

Alright, so the bike is underway, or rather, under my increasingly sore rump.  See, I decided that I wasn’t going to stop.  I had all my nutrition taped to my bike, in my 3 bottles, handed to me as I rode by aid stations, or stuffed in my jersey pockets.  No need to stop. So basically, I rode 112 miles in 7.5 hours and only stopped twice – once to refill one of my bottles and once to beg a bystander for sunscreen (so I never actually unclipped both feet either time).  Last year I’d stopped for about a half hour to chat & shoot the breeze, but not this time.  I chatted with a couple of people but after riding with Peter Shankman, a really funny guy from NYC (founder of HARO, a social networking site) who was making this his first IM, and having such a good time with him that an official warned me to quit drafting – I only dared have a little chat with Kristen (her shirt said “For Joey” and I just had to find out what the story was – turns out her good friend Joey died a few years ago when at age 23 he suddenly out of nowhere had a heart attack and died – so she was dedicating this, her first IM, to him) and with Andres, who was great company and owns a construction company that is building 2 hospitals in Mexico City.  Truth is, I was having a very introspective race.  I was completely zoning and focused on what I was doing and why I was doing it.

Off the bike – I handed it to a volunteer after removing the tissues, to keep with me during the run – and into the tent where I removed my bike shorts, put on running shorts & shoes, doused myself with bug spray (lesson I learned last year!) and 2 volunteers helped me assemble my glow-in-the-dark necklace (Bill’s WONDERFUL suggestion – another lesson from last year - my posse had no trouble spotting me!) and pack my stuff away.  And off I went!

Legs felt GREAT.  Aerobically, energy-wise, I felt GREAT.  Started running and judging by just the feel I knew I was doing a 10-10:30 mile pace, which was my goal.  I followed coach’s orders and had Gatorade or coke at every aid station.  But then gradually I started feeling the bile building up in the back of my throat and by mile 10 I admitted to myself that I felt like puking.  At this point, I think I’d seen my family 2-3 times during the run.  They were all wearing glow-in-the-dark bracelets, making a LOT of noise (my very loud 6-yr-old son William is perfect for these occasions).  They had really been amazing all day and it had become a game for me, like a where’s Waldo thing, trying to guess where they and the obscenely large white van we got would pop up next.  The athlete tracker gizmo had been a huge help for them (though it didn’t work on the blackberry, just the laptop), since they could quickly usher everyone from the bathroom or the restaurant or wherever they were, to the side of the road for a 10 second glimpse of me.  They’d made signs too,  saying how proud they were etc.

Anyway, at some point my sister Kristina jumped into the race to get her daily workout in and keep me company.  I wasn’t much company for her as I was afraid that if I opened my mouth much something other than words would come out.   At one point she pointed out an enormous tarantula that was on a white wall, and I offhandedly commented last year I saw one in one of the portapotties.  She told me afterwards that’s when she knew I was out of it, since I was completely unfazed by a big hairy spider.  At one point our 4 kids jumped in and ran with me.  They’d been up since 4:45am, driving around the island, screaming at the tops of their lungs for the athletes, Michelle (age 10) hadn’t succumbed to her legendary carsickness though she’d spent all day with a plastic bag in front of her, they were in flip flops, it was now about 8:00pm, and they ran about 100 meters with me before deciding this was too tiring.  It was really cool, though again, I wasn’t much company. 

The run, like the bike, is 3 loops.  In some ways loops suck because it can be monotonous and because you know what to expect (i.e. when you’re at a certain spot you know you still have x amount of territory to cover – again).  And it’s certainly a slap in the face to run down part of the finish shoot and have to bear left to the “next loop” lane while the finishers sprint to the sound of cheering crowds and the glorious finish.  My family told me later how painful it was to watch the face of the competitors who had to go on for another loop, they were so crestfallen.  But I choose to focus on the positive of loops.  You see people you know and you see people repeatedly and it’s interesting to watch how their demeanor evolves between loops 1 and 3.  And the predictability of the course can be comforting and it makes it easier to set shorter goals.  Coach Janda had advised me to run from aid station to aid station (they’re spread 1 km apart).  I did that – but I also ran from certain spot (Señor Frog’s) to certain spot (where our housekeeper was standing with her children), and so on.  When it comes to huge goals, after all, the key is to chunk them down.

Somewhere around mile 19 I think I decided that my jogging wasn’t going to cut it since at this point I was most certainly going to puke.  But I refused to give in to the nausea as I was afraid of losing the calories, so I made the calculated decision to walk.  But I figured that if I race walked, at a 13 mph or so clip, I wouldn’t be compromising my time too much nor would I be “giving up.”  So that’s what I did.  I had been thrilled to see that I was heading for a 14 hour finish, which was ONE HOUR better than last year!  But I realized that I’m just not that hung up on numbers especially when it comes to Ironman.  My goal for this race had been to finish the race in one piece – not end up in the med tent and not compromise the 5 days following the race, having fun with the family in Cozumel.  So I did my race walk, passing many walkers and even runners, and the bile subsided.  But then I became aware that my feet, legs and mid-to-lower back were a bit angry that I’d subjected them to continuous movement for longer than most people stick to anything.  And I realized that if I ran, it would be less painful.  So what ensued was a race walk/jog cycle.  I’d cycle till the bile returned, then switch to the walking.

At this point I caught up with Julio, with whom I’d walked a bit but then he’d been cajoled into running by his fellow Texans who had finished about 2 hours earlier – he was now walking again.  This was to be his first Ironman.  Now we were at mile 24 and I caught up with him (I was jogging at this point) and urged him to run to the finish with me, his 2 lost toenails were irrelevant at this point.  We ran past the cheering spectators, the finish line now within earshot.  At mile 25 I told him, you are about to be an Ironman and you need your own moment of glory crossing that line – do you want to go ahead of me or shall I go ahead?  He opted to go ahead. 

We ran down that chute, I was slapping high-fives to an ecstatic crowd, I took off my glow-in-the-dark necklace and put it over the head of a startled little girl.  My family was up ahead, right before the finish line, screaming like crazy.  I heard “Susanne Navas, YOU ARE AN IRON-MAN!” and I was pumping my arms up as I saw the clock read 14:53, 7 minutes better than last year, and I crossed that finish line! 

Got my medal, and my shell necklace, huge grin on my face, I had done it again – trained for 2.5 months and finished a race that I had always thought was reserved for athletic superstars who were clearly missing a screw.  Wow, what a great feeling!!!  But the best was when my family found me and Willo especially kept giving me huge hugs and kisses, with this look of wonder in his eyes. 

I don’t do this for the Personal Record (time), or the need to prove I can do it, nor do I feel compelled to aim for a goal such as completing a certain amount of Ironmen or an Ironman on every continent or anything like that.  I was thinking about this during the race at different points, especially during the marathon when I was in my more intense miles, and was focusing on the people in my life who have made great sacrifices either to their country (Christian Kade Warriner, my good friend Sarah’s friend’s son, who died in Afghanistan a couple of weeks ago at age 19), their community (Marie Ponzillo, the many wonderful people at the YMCA), or to support my training (my amazing husband & kids, our incredible friends the Baggetts, Hunters, Gittines, Ellicott-Murphys, Booths, Cocciolas – who have all been there for this journey and helped in so many ways)… people who have struggled with major hardship due to health issues or tragedy (Tracy Phipps, John Davidson, Kate Conklin)… the ACHIEVE Tri Kids we coached this past summer, who really taught me all about believing in your coach and in yourself, and staying focused on the goal in spite of adversity…. The girls in my after school Girls Circle program who look up to me as a role model and whom I want to show that “natural born talent” isn’t necessary for most goals.  What matters is staying focused, being willing to make sacrifices and work your ass off, and having a positive attitude.

Lessons learned or reinforced:

1. bring tissue - in waterproof bag

2. put on sunscreen before swim, after swim, and during bike

3. arrive the day before registration, 2 days before tops

4. put on bug spray during T2

5. ingest salt before & during race!

6. wear glow sticks during marathon if running past 6pm

7. make your race goals about more than time (patience, focus, flexibility...)

8. if you want to show off your IM accomplishment, don't remove your participant bracelet until you get home

9. get the athlete tracker gps gadget if you brought spectators

10. never underestimate the importance of nutritional & mental preparation - this will make or break you