Last Sunday morning I attended the best party of the year. We all know the best part of any party is the pre-party, and the pre-party for this one started the previous Saturday morning. I was up early in the drizzling rain to sneak in a short bike ride and run before we needed to leave for the desert, my final race of the year was slated to commence the following morning, Ironman Indian Wells, 70.3. We had about a two and a half hour drive ahead of us, so we needed to hustle in order to make all of the pre-race day hectic happenings happen before 5P.
Unfortunately, I still needed gas.
I should've filled up my tank the day before, but that was nutty enough with a million other random “Pre-Race” tasks, so I pushed it until Saturday morning.
“Excuse me, the machine says I need to, See the Attendant? “ I asked the owner of the gas station.
“The satellite is down.” The normally jovial gentleman replied flatly.
“Okay, what does that mean?”
“You can’t use your card, the satellite is down.”
Shocked by his response, I thought to myself, It wasn’t even raining hard? Really? This place can’t handle connecting to their satellites between a few clouds?
“What’s wrong?” Marion asked as I climbed back into my Jeep.
“The satellite is down, I can’t use my card.”
I did not have time for this. We were already thirty minutes behind schedule, but I needed gas, so I quickly drove across the street to the rival gas station that we have boycotted for years after Marion had an incident with his Corvette years ago, but no barricade between me and a race ever stands a chance, so I broke the boycott and pulled up to the closest available pump. I was about to leap from my Jeep, when I received a text from my athlete, Laurel, who just crossed the finish line at the Tucson Half Marathon. She ran the race in outstanding fashion. Not only was her time swift, but she felt good, and that was what mattered most.
Laurel and her husband, Caleb, with those well-earned, awesome finish-line feels.
I have never been more grateful for disconnected satellites.
If I did not have to banter between multiple gas stations that morning, I would’ve been driving when Laurel texted, and not seen it for hours, but I did see it, and had the chance to reply how proud and thrilled I was for her, an exchange that trumped anything else I had accomplished that morning, or what lay ahead of me the rest of the weekend.
The frantic rush of wanting to leave on time for the desert disappeared. I simply wanted to dance out of 2019 doing my favorite thing, running with a sweaty smile down a long red carpet.
I didn’t want this to be my last red carpet memory of 2019.
My, "not happy crying" finish at IM Wisconsin.
The rest of Saturday was filled with standard pre-Ironmanesque errands. Checking in at the EXPO, catching brief, but important moments with friends and teammates, dropping off gear in one transition area, and then driving twenty-five minutes to drop off more gear in another transition area, dunking my wetsuit in a giant kiddie pool, settling into our hotel room, eating the pre-made meal I cooked up that morning, and hoping I could drift off to sleep for a least a few hours before my alarm announced that it was to time rise and race.
It was a long, yet entertaining commute to the starting line. Luckily, my teammate Maisha and I spotted each other in the line for the shuttle, so the time flew by while chatting about all-things triathlon, but we only had thirty minutes to spare once the bus parked, door flung open and the transition area closed.
With my teammate, Maisha in transition.
That was a tight window to check in on Simone, (tire pressure, overall temperament), get body marked, wrestle on my wetsuit and booties, (the water temp was 59F), and drop off my morning clothes bag. But, I squeaked it all in, AND snuck in some hugs from a few of my favorite teammates, Alex Watt, Katie Ingram, Sarah Peltier, Genn Geiger, and Scott Perrine. The only item left to do was smile up towards the heavens to say, “thank you,” and then start swimming.
Checking in on Simone, and my speedster teammate, Alex Watt.
We kicked off the day by swimming in the chilly waters of Lake Cahuilla in La Quinta, CA. The water was not warm, but I felt okay. The booties were clutch. The course zig-zagged more than any other I’ve swam before, which made my tendency to swim wide, even wider, but I never got yelled at by a volunteer kayaker to veer back on course, which is the only bar of success I hope to achieve during the swim.
Swim exit. That's me on screen right.:)
It was a slow swim for me, but it seemed slow for everyone?? So, I rallied my wounded pride once I was out of the water, and focused my attention to the task ahead, riding fifty-six lovely miles on Simone through the flat and fast desert landscape in-between La Quinta and Indian Wells.
We had a blast!
I believe one of the positive outcomes from my plantar plate tearing injury this year on my toe, is that it forced me to change my pedal stroke. Now I place more effort pulling up the pedal vs. pushing down on it, thereby alleviating the stress on my foot, while gaining more strength, and creating less fatigue by engaging my hamstrings, glutes, and quads in every rotation. I felt strong and confident during the entire bike leg, and achieved my fastest split to date, 2:28:42, which is an avg. of 22.81 mph. There was quite a bit of peloton-esque riding along the way, which was not surprising on such a flat course, but still annoying. I sling-shotted for a dozen or so miles with one guy, but once we entered the fun, yet dizzying race track section, Simone and I were on our own.
Me and my bike, Simone.
I am glad we had space over the remaining miles to stretch out, speed up, and enjoy one last, fast ride together before the curtain came down on 2019. Simone always makes me feel strong and confident, (during training and races), so it was nice to return the favor and really let her fly.
When I rolled into T2, I had no idea where I sat in the standings. I knew my ride was better than decent, but that my run needed to be quick from start to finish if I had any chance of taking some hardware back home.
I passed a couple of women just after the first aid station, (a good sign), and then did my best to settle into an even 7:15ish-min. mi. pace. I knew the course would get interesting once we entered the golf course section, so I tried to make the best of the flat and downhill stretches before hitting the fairway.
I saw Marion while in T2, and knew Hillary and her family would be along the course somewhere, and a few other friends and teammates would be cheering too, but I was shocked and pleasantly surprised to see my teammate, Dan, propped up on his mountain bike taking photos just after a tight, hilly section on the golf course somewhere between miles five and six.
Surprised and stoked to see my teammate, Dan. Photo credit, Dan Beaver.
Dan has endured some gnarly injuries over the last couple of years, but stormed back this year with some fantastic racing, (he qualified for Kona at Ironman Arizona), so even though my foot felt fine, I was mindful of it, but seeing Dan was the jolt I needed to believe that returning fully, and maybe even stronger from my foot injury was a possibility.
Just as I turned left up short hill, nearing the end of my first lap, I saw Hillary and heard her say something like, “Dude, fast bike split.” That was nice. I didn’t feel super speedy at that moment, my stride was careful and compact, my pace was still in the low 7’s, but slowing down, so it felt good to know that I did something right during the race.
My coach, Hillary Biscay, (foreground), giving cheers and snapping photos. Photo credit, Maik Twelsiek, or Hillary's friend, (I'm not sure?....)
During the second lap of the course, around mile 9.5, I let myself take in the scenery, and simply be in the moment. This race was a party. The jagged ambition I had started the year off with had dulled; I wasn’t competing, but rather doing what I love.
Nearly done.
It’s an odd feeling to accept when the pursuit of a goal is over. To know for certain that reaching it won’t ever happen. I can tell you from first hand experience, it’s really not that bad.
No tears this time. A much happier finish than in Wisconsin.
I didn’t know where I placed for a while after I finished. I assumed it wasn’t on top of my age group, but when Hillary reported that I placed 6th, well that was that. The final nail in my year long, “Pursuit to be a pro” coffin was struck. True, my 40-44 age group was the most competitive on the day, I would have made the podium in any other age group, (which is actually very inspiring), but a big fat bummer, too. The upside was that we got to head home earlier, (no need to stick around for the awards ceremony), while the downside was realizing it was time to reevaluate my place in this sport, and its place in my life.
I know that I failed, but more importantly I know that I gave everything I had and more to reach my ultimate goal in triathlon, and that is a much better feeling than the empty one of never trying at all.
TeamHPB Rockstar's: From left, Rachael Robnett, Maisha Seebeck, Hillary Biscay, Alex Watt, and...
I am looking forward to my next chapter in triathlon, which will include more coaching, writing and sharing other triathlete’s stories, and training and competing in a more reasonable manner that allows for other parts of my life, (my career), to pick back up again.
Am I sad? Sure. But, life goes on, and I am grateful above all else to have found and pursued my passion to its fullest, one that has humbled, and given me more joy than I could ever have imagined.
The song choice this week is a bittersweet, but beautiful tune, one of my favorite songs ever, the classic, One Sweet Day from Mariah Carey and Boyz To Men.