Its been hot here in Phoenix, and even at 5 AM, it was already a humid 95 degrees. My legs were a little heavy after lifting the day before, and I was not feeling mentally into my run. Once I started, I settled into an easy warm up pace, trying to ignore the stickiness of the air. Then it happened. I felt my ponytail bouncing behind me as I ran. It felt odd, but familiar, bouncing with each step. I looked down and saw the shadow of it swinging easily back and forth. Thats right, my ponytail! The second it happen, my mind didn’t know how to process what it was seeing, and then the smile came, and I started to really run, hard. I had the best run I have had in weeks. All because I saw that shadow and I felt that bounce on the back of my head. It was awesome, and it was heaven.

I know it sounds silly. Its not like I didn’t know my hair had grown longer, or that I could again finally put it up in a ponytail without strategically pinning it or using a headband. Its just hair, it doesn’t help you run faster and it doesn’t set personal records. But it does represent what I had lost so many years ago, the idea that I was invincible, learning about fear and to really deal with pain, and having to give up my hair.

They say it takes at least the same amount of time that you were in treatment to twice as long for your body to be healed, to have your energy back, and to be “recovered”. I am at the end of that time, and every so often I feel changes and improvements that tell me my body is forgetting what it had to go through. Yet even with all the gains, there is a constant underlying pain, that is sometimes hard to ignore, reminding me that I have a new normal. It could be so much worse, but sometimes, when the twinges come or my chest spasms and takes my breath away, its hard to remember that I am able to do more now than I did before I was sick. I am healthier, in better shape, faster and stronger than I have ever been in my whole life. And it keeps getting better. Yet sometimes its hard to think of myself as healed, when it seems like those pains will never go away. And occasionally, I succumb to the pity party of wondering why those little reminders have to be there to say I will never be really past all of this.

This morning brought a sense of hope that things were still coming back into place. It has take a little over three years to get that ponytail back. If it takes that long to get my hair back, maybe it might take a little longer for my body and mind to stop focusing on the perceived pains and spasms in my chest. A friend told me recently that the body can only focus on one area of pain at a time. Maybe my mind just hasn’t turned off the warning system for the area that has experienced so much damage. If it took this long to find my hair, maybe I just need more time to let things settle in the rest of my body.

I am still smiling from this mornings run. Maybe it is just the high you get from running hard, or maybe it is the after effects of feeling my hair swinging behind me. Either way, I am going to enjoy the silliness of thinking that hair can mean that things will be better and embrace that my body is just learning to deal with all these changes as I push it to do more that I ever thought it could.

Last year was my first year attempting the run, and I did not respect what the desert had to throw at me. I covered six miles, and even though the temperatures where not that extreme, I struggled with the distance. This year, I want to say I was better prepared, but even knowing the challenges of the heat, I did not do as much heat training or preparation as I could have, which left me unsure and nervous about reaching my goal of a half marathon this year. Luckily running fate was on my side, and I had the chance to run with some people who came out to join our adventure. I normally do not run with a partner, I am the slower of my group of friends, but we were about the same pace, and the positive energy was contagious.

The day was not as warm as I thought it would be (the high was 118F), but I started off cautious as I remembered the punishing results of last years run. As I got closer to the six mile mark, I felt amazing, a testament to my being in better condition, having a better hydration strategy, and the support of my running companions Helene, Dana and Damon. Good company and conversation left me feeling like the miles were just slipping by, which was needed when I reached the point where by body had quit the year before.

The first eleven miles were better than I could have imagined. Once I hit mile 11, I felt the heat jump, and my stomach started to rebel against the intake of so much fluid. The last two miles, there was as much walking as running, but Dana and I kept encouraging each other to make it to the end of the half. When I saw 13.1 miles on my Garmin, I thought I might cry and do a happy dance. I felt like I just pushed aside the demons of the prior year when I had pushed my body too hard too fast in the heat, and suffered the consequences of underestimating the power of the valley.

By the end of the day, there were some amazing running accomplishments made, including one 20 miler finished by my friend, and organizer of the madness James, who fought hard for those last miles. Several people finished over a marathon, and others pushed through five and six milers in the hottest part of the day. All for the love of running, and pushing your body to see how far it will take you, when the conditions are extreme. In the end, I was giddy and inspired by the efforts of everyone out there, including those who came out to drive support cars. They make or break the day, and suffer just as much from the heat as those running in it.

I will do this again next year, and probably the years after that, because the area offers something special that I might otherwise never get to see. More importantly, the weekend reminds me of the benefits of getting out there just to get out there, the chance to spend time with those who love the same challenges I do. The experiences of the weekend would not happen just running our normal routes, and they remind me of why I am so grateful to still be here to be able to run.

I changed up my schedule this year so that I could go for the weekend pre-conference sessions. This gave me the chance to meet up with the San Diego Luna Chix Cycling Team for a long weekend ride. This turned into a humbling experience… epic is definitely a good word for the day. The San Diego Chix are some seriously strong cyclists, and the ride was challenging, with a bit more climbing that I was used to doing in flat Tempe.

I kept finding myself going to that place in my head where I questioned my ability to make it back to the start of the ride. Julia calls it the “mile 22 of an Ironman run dark place”, and that is exactly what this was. It’s a horrible feeling, where you just want to stop, question why you are even out there, and your sanity for thinking you could make it through.  When the feeling hit me, I was taken by surprise, since we were only at mile 20 of the bike.  The last few miles before I turned around were some of the most challenging I have ridden. I even had to get off and walk a little when my quads cramped up.

Its hard not to let those times when you are not sure you can keep going mess with your ability to get past the dark thoughts. And while it always passes, pushing on when you can no longer see the joy in what you are doing takes a leap of faith. You have to believe that eventually you will push past the ugly thoughts and feelings and find the light again. And no matter how many times I move through the dark places, when I am in them, I struggle to find the faith that it will pass.

The San Diego Chix were amazing and gave me the oomph to keep pushing.  I fought the negative thoughts and fatigue until I made it back to the car. Once I made it back, I experienced that moment where my thoughts change from fear of impending failure to pride in pushing past my limits to keep going. And then, I decided I wanted to ride for a while longer. I laughed at myself when I had the thought, since I had just been berating myself for feeling so weak. That moment where your thoughts change from quitting to pushing are so sweet, its one of the reasons I like endurance sport.  Julia and I ended up riding for another hour, while telling stories of the challenges of the day. That last hour was amazing, and flat, and I felt like I could ride forever.

I need to master bringing my tenacity in triathlon into the rest of my life. I am not quite there yet, but I think that learning to push past things that are scary or uncomfortable, help me experience things I might otherwise miss. This weekend reminded me of that, and this week has been one long experiment in putting myself out there. I have been pleasantly surprised at the results so far, but that will be a blog of another day.

Normally, when my weight would creep up, I would assume it was some flaw on my part, that I needed to “watch what I ate” a little more. I think a lot of us do that. Then I started having problems with my blood sugar (come to find out I am pre-diabetic) and I realized something needed to change. I am a healthy eater by most standards, so I didn’t know how to change what I was doing to better support my body.

That’s when I found an amazing sports psychologist who does body fat testing and helps her clients work to change the way they think about food and fueling their body. I was surprised when I found out my body fat percentage was so high and that one way to get it down was to start eating more and work on building some muscle.

While eating more should be something that is good, it is kind of stress inducing for me, so I have been working hard over the past few months to learn new eating habits and change the way I think about food. It is harder than I thought, but I think I am making progress. I have noticed that on days where I am eating according to the plan that my training sessions feel better, I am less tired and I can recover a little easier. While this probably isn’t surprising to most people, coming from a place of disordered eating where food ends up being the “enemy” of weight loss, this is a lesson I have to take to heart.

 

As the next step in the process, I started working with a personal trainer last week to build some muscle and just get stronger.  I have strength trained before, but after how sore I was, I never realized I could work so hard. I am meeting with a trainer twice a week (being a student has its perks—discounted training sessions at the student recreation center being one of them) and then doing two sessions on my own.  I have tried adding strength in before, but it never seems to stick. With the feeling of soreness and accomplishment I felt after my first session, I am thinking this time is different. I am dedicating myself to strength training for two months to see if I like it as much as I think I will. I am excited for a new challenge.

With all the noise out there about eating less carbs/fat/protein/calories and a new diet recommendation coming out every week, I have been learning that I need to tune out the talking heads because most of the recommendations do not work well for people training or being very active. It’s too easy to take it too far and get yourself into a place of deprivation where your body cannot support itself.

I am hoping to find balance so that I do not have those negative voices in my head saying all the “should nots” about what I am doing.  It may be slow going, but I think that learning how to be kinder to myself will lead to a happier and healthier me.

The area is incredibly hilly, so walking anywhere, let alone running anywhere, was a challenge. I enjoyed getting out every morning for a run/walk/hike before breakfast, then a 2.5 mile hike through the forest to the workshop site at Fattoria di Maiano and then more walking during lunch break. For not actively training, I think this is the sorest I have ever been from being active, as I tried to adjust to the steep (16% or more on some roads) uphill and rocky downhill on the hike.

I admit it was a great excuse to eat everything brought out during the week. The workshop made sure to provide plenty of opportunities to enjoy amazing food, and I ate more cheese, bread and pasta that I had for this entire year so far.  Slow food and good company is a staple of this area and we definitely embraced that with dinners that often went until well past midnight. 

I enjoyed the time being out exploring and not thinking about fitting training into the very busy days. I found my walks alone incredibly peaceful. Several of these walks brought me to places where I could sit and not think about anything and just enjoy the quiet. It is rare that the physical beauty of my surroundings can take my breath away, let alone inspiring feelings of gratitude and peace in me just for being there, yet that seemed to be a frequent occurrence this week.

 

After a week of rich food, more hills that I have ever walked and long days, I am on my way home. I can feel the soreness in my legs and feet and look forward to my own bed and stretching out some of the achiness. While the chance to participate in a challenging week of work and activities was amazing, being able to take some time to be alone and quiet was something that was sorely needed. And I have to admit—that after a week of hilly trips, I think I have a new fondness for the hills and climbs we have around Tempe. Maybe I will learn to love hill work, stranger things have happened.

I am lucky enough to be here for a weeklong workshop on spatial data in society. Different themes are chosen each year, and organizers believe that getting people out of traditional academic settings, into a more relaxed atmosphere, fosters creativity. With this in mind, sessions are mostly held on the patio of an olive oil farm, about ten minutes outside the town center, with outings to local restaurants and hikes around the area in between working sessions and presentations.

My goal for this week, beyond contributing to the work of my group and participating in the workshop, is to relax and let go of some of the stress I have been carrying around. The theme of the trip so far is “cross training,” or walking around town with its steep streets and park areas and “refueling”—my code for enjoying opportunities to eat the amazing food here. 

I was not participating in endurance sports the last time I came here and it is interesting the new things I notice about this place. As I sat at the local café for lunch, I was surprised to see numerous cyclists speed down the road and then ride back by to go up again. These streets are so tiny and full of cars, it seems scary to me…yet its good to know that hill repeats and cycling kits can be found anywhere.

So it’s a week of hard work plus relaxing ahead. I have decided to only run if I feel like it, although the hills around me are kind of calling my name. Sometimes it’s good to take a break for a bit and recharge, even just get out of the swim, bike, run, repeat mindset and relax with some hiking and shorter runs. With how lucky I feel to be here, I am embracing the reset this week. 

The first time I planned on doing this race, I registered for the 10K with my ex-husband (I was not a runner then, but planned on walking). I was excited as we planned on going to run in the sun. A few weeks before we were to go, I was told I had to have surgery on my gall bladder. So, my ex went, and I was stuck at home telling myself I would go back the next year. The next year came and I was ready, we registered, and I was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors told me I had to avoid the sun during chemo, so even walking the course was out of the question. Fine, one more year of not racing, no big deal, there is always another year. The third time I thought I was going to do this race, I was hesitant to register prior to the race, so I planned the trip, but didn’t hit the registration button. During this time, my husband had just walked away from our marriage, my company had to downsize my department (and I was worried about my income) and I was in a mad panic looking for a place to live. Needless to say, I didn’t race that year either.

Enter 2012, the year that was my year to make it to this race, period. Nothing was going to stand in my way. I was determined. I had conviction. But I still didn’t register ahead of time. Fine, conviction might be a bit of a strong word, but I had desire to make it to the start. Now, when I first wanted to do this race, I loved the course and the name and it sounded like fun. Yet after not starting it so many times, if I would have been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I was not sure why I was so insistent on going to this race when it seemed like maybe it was something that was not meant to happen. I mean, I live someplace where I get to run in extreme heat conditions as a matter of course and this summer I am heading back out to Death Valley for a fun time of running in a beautiful but punishing place…the place where they hold two of my bucket list races, Badwater and the Furnace Creek 508.  So what the heck was so special about this race?

Running with the Devil was this weekend. If you made it this far, I bet you might be thinking I am going to explain why it was so important for me to finally make it to the start, and finish, of Running with the Devil. And honestly, up until Monday of last week, so did I. But I didn’t go. And for once, it wasn’t because something bad happened or I couldn’t make it, but instead I realized that obsessing over doing it, just because I had planned to, kind of took the fun out of it. I was holding onto it because I had made a decision years ago to do it, and hadn’t even considered whether it was something I wanted anymore. I tend to do that with a lot of things.

This last week has really been all about changing my mind, being ok with it, and just letting the new, sometimes better, things come to me. So far, I admit I kind of love the change.

The first step towards my new shiny outlook came with a new (well, new to me) tri bike on Monday. I bought my current bike at a time when money was a little tighter, I didn’t really know a lot about bikes and I was not sure if I was really going to be racing a lot. I ended up with a bike that I love and that has gotten me through four Ironmans and countless other adventures, including my journey through cancer. I have a sentimental attachment to my bike, and up until this week, I never thought seriously about getting another tri bike. Yet, a couple weeks ago, my friends sent me a Craigslist ad for a very beautiful, extra small, Specialized Transition. It was lovely and in my price range and shockingly my size. I said I didn’t want a tri bike, but I looked at that ad everyday for over a week. I finally decided to go look at the bike, with some cash, just in case. It was even more beautiful in person. I test road it, haggled some and walked away with a nicer bike that I had ever thought I would own. I was pleased and excited and glad that I had let go of the idea that I didn’t “need” it because I already had a bike. If I am honest, I don’t need most of the gear I have, but it was sure fun to let myself upgrade to a bike that would hopefully serve me well in a hobby I love.

 

After I purchased the bike, in an effort to be frugal after my purchase, I decided that my attendance at Running with the Devil would be my fun for the upcoming weekend, but that I would have to be thoughtful about my expenses. This too would change before Tuesday even passed.

Ironman Lake Tahoe opened its registration Monday. I thought for sure it would sell out, since it is the first year for this race. We had all been talking about it over the weekend, as many of us were thinking about registering. The course looks to be amazing, but I was hesitant as it is at elevation and has a couple hilly climbs on the bike. When I did not register on Monday, I was sure it would sell out before day’s end. Surprisingly, it was still open Tuesday and I proceeded to fill out the entry three times and then change my mind before hitting the submit button and committing to try something that scares me a little (fine, a lot). As I thought about it, I kept checking if it was sold out and thinking about whether I should sign up. It went against the thrifty pledge I made just the day before, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I went back and filled out the registration form for the fourth time, but this time I went all the way. A few minutes later the race sold out…I was feeling seriously lucky at that point. Yet I was also feeling nauseous. I just signed up for my first race at elevation and with some big climbs and bought a brand new bike. Both things I had said I was not going to do right up until I did it and I was happy as can be about how the week was starting.

On my first ride.

As I thought about everything I needed to do, I was still planning on heading up to the race this weekend. I started waffling a little when I started thinking about wanting to ride my new bike, how short and kind of tiring the two-day trip would be and how I wasn’t even really excited about the race. Not even a little.  And I thought about the blog I wrote last week, where I had made a conscious effort to find the fun in training and racing again. And when I started thinking about Running with the Devil, it didn’t sound fun. It was hard to let myself think this, and it was even harder to give myself permission to change my mind, and say I didn’t want to do it anymore. It’s silly, I mean, it’s a hobby—and hobbies are supposed to be fun indulgences, not obligations that you place on yourself for non-existent reasons. And so, instead of heading to the race, I made places to run and ride this weekend, in an equally beautiful area close to home with friends who mean the world to me, people I would not have seen if I was up in Nevada. And as I have been discovering, there are not really a lot of other ways that I would want to spend a weekend.

In the process of writing this blog, I have opened myself to ideas and experiences that I normally would have strongly resisted…and I think I am better for it. I am rediscovering why I love being active and why I like to push myself harder than I might have thought possible. Sometimes, you have to let go of what you think you want, the “should,” in order to let in opportunities that you never could have imagined if you stayed stuck in the “shoulds and have tos”. Sometimes it feels like I am giving up on something, not following through on my commitment, but really, what am I giving up or not doing?

It’s weird to realize that sometimes following through with your original plans, just because you thought it was what you wanted, can be more destructive than noble. And when it hurts no one other than you, what is the point of stubbornly hanging onto an idea that doesn’t work anymore? It’s liberating to realize that it is not a flaw to change my mind, to reevaluate what I want and what makes me happy and then adjust my life accordingly. I think I am entering a time of change in my life, and for once, change doesn’t seem like a completely scary thing.

In my quest to find some balance and bring the happy back into my life, I decided to intentionally shake things up some and do whatever sounded like it would be fun this week, regardless of whether it fit into my training schedule. And I can say, that even though many of the rides and runs I did turned out to be harder than I normally might have done, I loved every minute of them. That’s right, I had fun.

I have to thank my fellow Chix for getting me out to try some of these things. I started the week with my first outdoor spin, something Meghan had been inviting me to try for months, and then Tabitha called me a couple hours before class to remind me of the start time and then nicely ask if I was getting ready to go. It was challenging, but I loved the group energy and being outside, and it was awesome to hang out with Tabitha who was suffering right along with me and hear Meghan yelling encouragement down to me as I looked like I might melt. Later that week I was out for another early morning ride with Jill and Monica and even though the wind was testing my ability to keep in a positive frame of mind, it was a great way to start the day.

During the morning San Juan ride, I got to see some of the joy that I used to feel when I trained. Monica, who is fairly new to triathlon, had been riding with chronically underinflated tires, which seemed to have been slowing her down. She mentioned that she thought she should pump them up some and once her tire pressure was just right, she was flying on the bike. I have never seen someone who could climb a hill on her bike so easily. Her joy with the improvement was infectious.

As good as the week was, the best part of this experiment occurred with this weekend’s ride and run. Saturday, I decided that instead of adding an extra ride with some friends, I would meet up with them at the ride start and then run on my own. I am not sure why, but I have kind of been avoiding running, something I normally love to do and I wanted to get out to run someplace new. I had not been out for a solo run away from my normal route in a long time. After visiting with the riding group, I set off to run in Fountain Hills, and although it was hard, I had an amazing time. The area is so beautiful and I even tried to master the art of the self-picture taking (not quite there yet). Normally, when I might have been frustrated at having to back track to find water or a bathroom, being out on my own, I explored until I found what I needed. I didn’t have the pressure of meeting a specific pace or time, and I was not worried about anyone waiting for me back at the car. It felt freeing and reminded me of how much I love to run.

Sunday, it was time for my first “long” ride back after Ironman Texas and I was actually feeling excited to get out and ride. I was meeting a few of the Chix as well as some other speedy friends to get out for two and a half hours. Starting out, my legs were heavy and my heart rate was all over the place and it made me less than peppy on the bike. Instead of getting frustrated, the ride felt good and I was happy to be out with my friends Laura and Tabitha enjoying the chance to catch up. I was so impressed with both of them being out there, riding hard, as they are coming back from major knee injuries. It’s inspiring to see how much being able to get out there and train means to both of them.

The ride was made even better by a couple surprise additions coming out to ride. Sometimes happy people just make things seem easier, even if they are pushing you to ride hard downhill, yelling, “Come on, come on—hit 35”! I made it to 32 mph, which was awesome…thanks Jamie! We even had our unofficial photographer decide to come ride, but I know he just wanted to be there to take the picture for us at the end.

The weekend ended with doggie play time in the pool, with some relaxed swimming with my dog, but no laps in sight. I love watching him swim, he is a natural in the water, and it offered some more time to visit with friends and enjoy some downtime over good food and conversation.

None of this sounds very amazing or like it should have made that much of an impact, but this week of only doing what sounded good took away some anxiety that I hadn’t even realized was there. I think I get so caught up in watching my pace, going faster/longer/harder or worrying that someone is waiting for me somewhere that I forget to enjoy the hobby in which I am privileged to be able to participate.

Taking the time to just go out and move, without worrying about anything else, gave me the time to really enjoy the training and it made me remember why I started participating in this in the first place. I want to have fun, and this weekend, I think I found that again.

I started the Ph.D. program a year before I was diagnosed and even with the fast pace I set for myself during that first year, it has been hard keeping on track now that I am back and working on it again. Realizing I realistically could be finished in less than a year hasn’t seemed to have the desired effect of making me work harder, but just the opposite—it makes every step a practice in sheer force of will to grab some progress…any progress.

Taking some recovery time with short workouts and days off has allowed me to start to find some balance in my life, and gain some perspective about what I have been doing. Even though things in general have been very good, it was weird to realize that my thoughts of the future often brought stress and anxiety, like I had lost that sense of hope and aspiration that I used to feel when I thought of my degree, racing, training and life in general. I missed the feeling that anything was possible or that something new and interesting might be right around the corner. Once I figured out it went missing, I also realized I sure wanted that feeling and outlook back.

I wish that just knowing something is wrong would make whatever it is magically better. Unfortunately it takes some work to find balance and move beyond whatever is holding you back. For me, I realized I was hiding from all the things I need to do in order to get to where I want to be. This includes writing for my dissertation, getting out to train instead of spending a lot of time indoors, and spending more time on campus working (which helps keep me honest about how much work I am doing). It is so easy to get distracted when I am at home in my office or on my trainer, and my dog wants my attention or I have some laundry to do. This avoidance even makes nutrition a challenge, when I end up not eating enough to support my activity, and my body decides that muscle is just as good a fuel as some oatmeal. Balance is something I have never been good at, but I am determined to find it for myself.

In my efforts to change things up, I am trying to embrace doing things differently. This includes early morning rides during the week at South Mountain, which may be physically challenging, but is made easier by the amazing beauty of the area.

 

I have started scheduling my daily writing, working and training, so that I get my work done and find some progress, while having down time to hang out with friends or my pup. Its freeing to figure out it isn’t necessary to work 10 hours a day, seven days a week to have progress; such a nice idea.  And I am making sure to find time to take care of me, including having food in my house so that I can fuel my work and activity beyond just getting through the day. That part has been harder than I thought.

The best part, I have started to find the silly, happy and hopeful person that I was looking for, and it feels really good. It’s never good to take yourself or life too seriously and I have started to remind myself of that (yeah, silly even works when the weekend ride is making you feel slower than you thought possible). 

And it helps to have a support system that is willing to work through all the angst and confusion with you, and help you come out the other side a stronger, happier and productive person. I have said it before and I am sure I will say it again, but even when things are hard or seem bleak, I am very grateful for the life I have.

I am finally learning that it is all right to mourn losses and even sometimes feel angry, while still acknowledging that things are good. I used to think I was betraying the good things when I would let the anger or sadness come to the surface, but I am finally getting that while experiencing those emotions are incredibly hard, it also makes the good in my life that much more amazing. I never dreamed I would be here, living the life I am and without all the bad, I would never have found my way to this place. What a relief to know that sometimes beauty can grow from such an incredibly ugly place.

It sounded like a good way to spend the weekend with friends on a road trip and run a race that would be in amazing weather on an interesting course. Who wouldn’t want to be able to run on an expressway? I have still been in a bit of a funk and the post Ironman race blues (which are always a pain) don’t seem to be helping any. It never dawned on me that I probably should have taken more than two weeks before going out to run a half that seemed to have a lot of challenging sections to it.

The trip was amazing on so many levels. My fellow LUNA Chix Tabitha and her husband volunteered to watch my pup and he got to spend the entire weekend swimming. I swear he is part seal.

I had a fun road trip to San Diego, leaving behind 112-degree heat for a beautiful overcast weekend of cool weather and mild humidity. And even better, I got to hear one of my triathlon heroes, Chrissie Wellington, talk about her career and then get a brief chat with her at her book signing. All this was before we even got to race day.

The best part of this weekend was being able to hang out with Julia the night before and, happily, also during the race. Julia was my first triathlon friend. We met in 2009, the day before my first Ironman Arizona, when we were both lining up the day before the race, an hour before registration for the next year’s race opened. Neither of us wanted to be the first crazy person waiting in line, so we both sat off a little ways chatting about the race and what we thought it would be like, while waiting for someone to start the line. We registered, exchanged emails, and then went on our way. The next morning, in the crowd of a couple thousand people, I ran into her as I was wandering around dazed and nervous waiting for the time to put on my wetsuit. We happily hung out race morning, chatting and keeping each other focused, sharing nervous energy. The next morning, I ran into her mom in the finishers store line and we hung out until we could start shopping. It was like we were meant to be friends and fate was just nudging us in that direction, giving plenty of opportunities for us to figure it out. Whenever I am in the San Diego area I try to make sure to visit and this was no exception. Luckily, this time, I convinced her to sign up for the race as well and come have some girl time.

Race morning, we met up with Ichha and Brady (the couple I drove in with) and headed to the shuttles. Both of them were looking to run this course fast, but were relaxed and ready to have some fun on the way to find parking. I had not even looked at the course and on the way to the start was grateful that Brady had shared some tips about the climb in the middle of the race.

Julia decided that she would start with me and maybe just run with me during the race which sounded like the perfect idea. After many adventures in the porta potty lines, including some harassment of people who seemed to enjoy being in the blue box a little too much, we went and found our corral and waited to start. There were so many people; it was insane to be in such a huge crowd waiting to get going. Once we started, I kept an easy pace and felt really good. I know that we were running slowly for her, but Julia stayed with me and we chatted almost the whole time.

I felt amazing, mentally and physically up until about mile 5, when the road started to have a lot of slant and we started up the hill. Suddenly I went from perky and amazing to tired and a little sluggish. I had to start taking walk breaks and realized that this was going to be a very long half. Once I accepted that this would be a slow going day, I started to pay more attention to the other runners going by, the marathoners on the other side of the road, the bands and the scenery. Even though I felt spent, I realized I was having a really good time.

Julia and I talked the whole way. I knew running the freeway would be fun, but I couldn’t have guessed that it would feel so amazing under these huge, and sometimes beautiful bridges, and running next to some really lovely scenery (it’s literally the scenic route through the area). The bands were amazing and the weather was nice, no sun, but enough humidity that I was wringing water out of my hair. Even for this being my slowest half marathon ever, I was pushing myself hard to keep going, and I know that I could not have given any more to this event. It was fun to see the finish and make sure we crossed together; the finishers’ pic should be pretty funny.

For an event away from home, the course felt like it was full of familiar faces. I got to see Kathy (a fellow Luna Chix on her way to an amazing 12 minute PR), Rodney (the husband of Renee another Luna Chix running an amazing half) and at the finish I even found Renee happily celebrating finishing another half marathon herself.  It’s inspiring to know so many people who can push themselves to go a little faster or a little farther than they thought they could…including the couple I came up with who had impressive results, even if they did not hit their goal pace.

For me, this race ended up having nothing to do with trying to run fast, but had everything to do with spending time with friends and celebrating being healthy enough to do a half marathon two weeks after Texas.  It was the perfect way to spend Cancer Survivors Day and it reminded me how lucky we all are to be able to do such amazing things in beautiful places.

Over the past couple of weeks in this blog I have acknowledged that I was having a hard time working through some things, but I think I was still just trying to keep busy enough to ignore it. This last weekend offered me some time to realize that I have dealt with a lot of losses in my life over the past five years, and that even though I was saying I was accepting that fate had something different in mind for me, I was being resistant and stubborn about it still. It’s hard to enjoy the things that you do have when you focus too much on what you think you have lost, and I have been dwelling too much, even without realizing I was doing it.

I have always believed that the word survivor has to mean more than just making it through and I am usually pretty good at trying to embrace what comes. Guess it’s time for me to remember that a little more often. Not hard to do after weekends like this. 

I kept myself so busy the past few weeks that it seems like the breakup and race happened a long time ago. It makes me wonder why I am still so emotionally raw and so tired. I have to remind myself (well others have to remind me) that it has been only over the past two weeks that all this has happened.  This intentional break has made me be more aware of how my body is feeling and the unpleasant things that keep rolling through my mind. I think I am lucky though, in that I have a lot of amazing friends and a dog that seems to believe I am the best thing in the world.

So far, I have found new training partners, and they are a blast. And I am going to San Diego next weekend for a half marathon (I know, that might not seem like recovery to some, but for me it sounds like too much fun). I am wondering how well I will be running by then—after my second real ride back this weekend kind of kicked my butt. Regardless, I will be there with friends, including a couple LUNA Chix. Doesn’t get much better than that.

I admit, it’s hard to see the positive things going on when I am home alone—the time when the tired and sadness can creep in and start playing tricks with my mind. Yet, I realize that things really are incredibly good…maybe not how I want them to be, but definitely good. I guess I am trying to embrace the idea that sometimes, fate/life/the universe might have ideas about what we should be doing/where we should go that dramatically differ from our own. I used to fight against that, but like with my rest week, I am learning to relax some and see what happens.  Sometimes the plan is only a plan, and reality can turn out much better. Even if it takes me a long time to see it. I admit, I am looking forward to the time when I understand why the events of the past two weeks have happened, and where giving myself some time to heal eventually takes me.

The next couple days leading up to the race went by in a blur, with some bike, run and swim time. My mom arrived, and I was so grateful for her being there. I even had the chance to have the Ironman film crew interview me about my race, and I was lucky enough to have them on the racecourse with me some of the time. They are an enthusiastic group!

By race morning, we knew the water was going to be hot, and I had heard some scary stories about the very congested, full body contact swim course.  With all of that, I decided to not use my wetsuit for the swim. It was already 81 degrees in the water race morning, and a wetsuit would make for one hot swim. Even with that, I carried around my wetsuit like a security blanket, trying to calm my nerves and help me focus. It was hard not dwelling on the things making me unhappy, and I was going over and over in my head the events of the past week. I wondered how I was going to make it through the day. I tried to push it aside when I was with my support crew, Jill and my mom, because if you put the positive happiness out there, eventually it will be true. I needed the race to start, and to get out there and go. Once the cannon sounded, I settled in for what I hoped to be a 15-15:30 hour day.

The swim was a tough, full contact, congested swim where I felt I was constantly trying to find space to move. I got hit more than I thought possible, but kept calm, channeling my fishy friends to keep moving forward. When I exited the water, I wanted to hug someone I was so happy. I hit the bike, ready for an amazing ride, and the first 40+ miles gave me just that. It was hot, and there was a mild tail wind, but I had some shade and great support on the course, so I felt really good.

Things changed very quickly, when I started to have a hard time pedaling. I thought I was running out of energy, until I realized my bike was making some noise. Ultimately I realized I had a flat—my first long course flat—and I stopped, resigned to losing some time on what had been a record morning ride. Luckily, as I struggled with the flat, the support car came and helped me get back going. I started riding again, feeling back in the groove, but getting hotter. And about 25 miles later, going up hill, I realized I had another flat. I stopped and with some help again, changed my tube and started riding…. for about 2 miles. I was out of tubes and in the sun without water. I had gone from a 17 mph pace average to a 14 mph average with all the stopping, and I thought my race was over. Then, there came my rescuers in the support car to save me. Turned out my tire had some metal that had gone through and created a hole, leaving a metal shard that kept puncturing my tube. With a new tire, and a spare tube, I was back on the road…into a nasty headwind for another 50 miles. It was the most painful, slow going ride of my life.

I stopped being able to eat and had to keep stopping due to nasty thigh cramps and the heat making it hard to breathe. I resigned myself that this might be my first DNF (Did Not Finish) Ironman, and I wondered how so much could go so wrong in my life the last few weeks. I felt so sorry for myself, and wondered why I thought I could even do something like this. I admit, I felt like a failure, like I was in a black hole that I honestly wasn’t sure I could, or even wanted to, find the other side. I was in a negative, painful place both mentally and physically, and it just felt like too much. The weird part was, that while I was going through this negative mental drama, I kept riding. When I could pep myself up I was faster, when I was down in the black, I was incredibly slow. Eventually, near the bike cut off time, I was one mile from the finish. Every part of me hurt, and I felt physically, mentally and emotionally drained, but I could hear transition and all I wanted was to get on the run. If they pulled me off the course, I could accept that, but I couldn’t accept just walking away.

When I hit the timing mat for T2, I saw my mom and Jill and I told them I wasn’t sure I could run. It took a long time to get myself into my running shoes and be able to walk out of the changing tent. I was dizzy and burnt and there was no way to run. I spent the first two and a half miles walking at a slower than 15 minute per mile pace, which was not going to let me finish this race. The nice thing was I kept pouring water over my head and ice down my shirt, I had some cola and my legs started to loosen up.

The cramps started to release and I found some shade and then I started to run. It was a long 26.2 miles of running and walking and sometimes shuffling. I met some amazing athletes out there struggling to finish and beat the cutoff and we helped each other keep moving forward. I saw my mom and Jill and got energy from them, hearing about everyone back home sending me positive racing thoughts. And I saw the camera crew, who seemed more excited to see me running than I was to be running. When I realized I was going to make the final cut off, I stopped running and cried. This was the hardest race I had ever done and I realized that if this had been two years ago, I would not have had the endurance or strength to push past the struggles on the bike course to make up the time and get to the run. 

When I hit the turn to the finish, I walked for a bit to take it all in and appreciate how far I had come that day. As I ran down the final stretch and saw the finish line, I could feel the smile that had been on and off my face throughout the day, spread to a grin and I heard them announce my name. It was surreal to finish when I had accepted the potential for it not to happen. I had given everything I had, holding back nothing and I had made it to the end. It may not have been in my goal time, but I would not have done anything different.

I know it may seem odd to some to participate in an event where you often find yourself in such an ugly, dark place that all you want to do is stop. It is something that you hear when people talk about making it through a challenging race and it never sounds like a pretty or worthwhile place to be by choice. Yet, I keep going back and doing it again. And I love it. I love the challenge to see how far I can go and what my body can overcome. I love having the mental strength to keep moving, even when everything inside is saying to just stop. And I love being out there with others who are facing the same struggles or having an amazing day, and being able to share that all with them.

This was a hard day. I came into it mentally broken and emerged physically tired and still wondering how to get past the pain in the rest of my life. And as I sit here in the dark writing this, the joy I feel in accomplishing my goal while with my family and friends is shadowed by a sense of loss. While I want it to all be okay right now, I realize that I have to trust that I can make it through anything if I just keep moving forward. That I don’t have to be fast or run every step, but I do have to keep making progress, because even when I feel like a failure, I know somewhere that it is temporary, and eventually, I will find that joy again.

After my last blog, I had a friend who said it bothered her that I felt like a failure or not worthy of the person that walked away. While I understand what she is saying, I also think that it is important to be honest about sometimes feeling like I am not enough. It’s not that in the end I truly believe that, but I think we all feel that way at one time or another, regardless of the validity of the feelings. I think it is a way to process events and emotions and try to work through things that might leave us questioning everything we thought we knew. The real issue is whether we stay in that black place and start believing that we are not worthwhile, or if we accept that we can feel that way for a while, and then start to move on.

I know I will be hurting from the events of the past weeks for a while to come and that I will struggle with these negative thoughts about myself, but that’s alright I think. I know it has to happen and I have to hurt and process and move on to something better for me. Because ugly things and people in life sometimes are like the ugly nasty places in a race—where you cannot see the light as they happen, but if you hang on long enough, you know the light will eventually come. And when it does, it is absolutely amazing.

It happened a few days before I was supposed to leave for Ironman Texas. He was going to fly out to be at the race and drive back with me, something that will now not happen. I have never felt this way before and my first instinct was to not race. I could not see how I could make it through the physical challenge, let alone the mental hurdles, of an Ironman feeling like I had just lost something that I had held so precious to me. And I honestly am still not sure how I will do it, since everything, including eating and training, feels like an effort that I cannot bear. I am not sure how to move forward when I feel like a piece of me went missing somewhere.

With all of this bad, I am trying to see the good in things, and I must admit that I have been blessed to find that my friends are more amazing than I ever could have known. They have been there to distract me, entertain me, step up to fly to Texas to support me at the race and drive back home with me the next day. And, they reminded me that I can do this, with or without him…that I have to do this, even if it hurts to move right now.

I know this is not a relationship blog and I struggled today with the thought of writing about this. Yet, this is a blog about what it’s like to bring sport, any sport, into your life. And sometimes life is ugly and messy. Sometimes life hurts.

I admit, when this happened, all I could think was that over the past five years my life has been a testament to that statement. And I wallowed, and am still wallowing more than I care to admit, about feeling like every time I think I am healing, something rips open those mental wounds again.  But through all these challenges, the one thing that I clung to, even in treatment, was triathlon. Throwing myself into something that lets me let go of the pain for a little while, forces me to tell those little voices that say I wasn’t good enough for him or good enough to finish, to shut the hell up. And this is why I am still going….I need the release from this.

Some of my friends say I need to get out there to show him that I am stronger than that, but honestly, that makes it seem like I am angry at him, and I am not…I am just incredibly hurt and sad. So I need a better reason to make this trip and see if I can push past all of this, if even for just 15 hours.

Like I said, this isn’t a relationship blog, but it is a blog about how we balance the hurdles and challenges of our life with our sport life. And I would be lying to myself if I did not admit that this impacts everything about how I am approaching this race. I have trained and raced through cancer and divorce, and I learned that feeling fragile and tiny is not the best mindset for starting an Ironman. But this is a great first step towards feeling in control of my emotions and myself. I guess I am putting a lot of pressure on this race to give me the time to cry and let go of some of the angst I am feeling right now, expecting that it will help me move forward, like it has done in the past. Yet I realize it is not really the race that makes the difference, but the physical release of all that stress and tension.

I am not sure how many people see this blog, or if my words make much sense, but if there is one thing I hope someone could take away from this, it is that you have to keep moving. Even if it is one small step at a time, make forward progress. There will always be times where it hurts, both in life and in racing, and it won’t be any better if you stop, but it will be so much better when you see the finish. And even if you don’t get to where you think you were going, you will know you gave it everything that you had to try to make it to the end. And there is nothing more that you can ask of yourself than that.

This weekend was my last training race before Texas, and the timing was great. It has been really hot here in Phoenix, and Texas is supposed to be hot and humid. I was looking forward to seeing whether I could handle the heat and if keeping my shirt filled with ice really would keep me feeling cool (gladly it really does work). Mostly though, I was considering finding out what it felt like to race without a wetsuit, since it was rumored that Tempe Town Lake would be too warm for a wetsuit on race day, and similar comments have been going around about Texas.  I was considering it, but I didn’t think I would actually do it.

Swimming is not my strongest skill, and even in a wetsuit, the Ironman swim takes me a little under two hours. The thought of swimming 2.4 miles without a wetsuit has me kind of freaked out. It’s not that I have not done open water swimming without a wetsuit before, I actually enjoy that during the summer here, but I have not raced without a wetsuit, and the thought tied my stomach in knots. When I arrived at Rio Salado on Saturday, I had packed my wetsuit in my transition bag, just in case the race was wetsuit legal. Even though I knew I should try a race without it, and an Olympic distance seemed a much better first wetsuit-less race than an Ironman, part of me was hoping hard they would say it was wetsuit legal.  Yet in the back on my mind, I had that voice saying either way I should leave the wetsuit in my bag and just swim…well, until then they announced wetsuits were allowed, and I had to make a decision.

Luckily transition seemed to be full of friends to remind me that it was a good idea to do this before Texas, offering advice and encouragement and telling me I would not drown. I decided to try it, and just accept that the swim might be slower than I wanted, but even if that happened this was just supposed to be a nice catered training day.

The race was delayed, which gave me more time to second guess my decision, and by the time I went to get in the water, I was fairly worked up. When I finally lowered myself in the water, I was telling myself this would be a good experience, and was pleased that the water did not feel cold, but was actually pleasant. Then I hit the water, and everything seemed to tighten up. I couldn’t catch my breath, and I couldn’t really move or swim. Nothing seemed to be working, and I started to panic.  I have not panicked in the water since my very first race, and the force of it kind of took me by surprise. I was so glad that earlier in transition I ran into one of the swim coaches that gives clinic for our team, and talked to him about being scared of a non-wetsuit swim. As I struggled in the water, his advice to relax and mentally release the panic popped into my head. I stopped trying to swim, and just relaxed into the water, and started trying to let all the anxiety go.

It took a few tries to calm down enough to start swimming to the actual start. There were a few false starts where I began swimming and couldn’t breathe and started to freak out a bit. I guess I realized that I really only had two choices, calm down and accept that I would not drown and I would finish the swim or get out of the water and not race. When the horn sounded, I started to swim. I went out way too hard, and by the time I pulled myself back, I was really tired. It was a hard swim, and silencing the voice in my head saying I was too slow took some effort, but I kept swimming. After a small punch to the head from someone who seemed to be struggling in his swim, and a near collision with a buoy, the last 500 meters seemed to go on forever. When I hit the steps to get out of the lake, I wanted to kiss the volunteer helping me out. Land! 

The rest of the race was amazing. I saw the Luna Chix out on the course and at our aid station on the run, which was awesome. I spent the bike and run smiling like I usually do when I race, happy as can be to be out there. I was surprised at how many friends I saw on the course, and was pleased to spot my friends JT and Laura at the aid station on my first pass. All of my cooling methods seemed to work, and the tiredness from going too hard on the swim seemed to ease about half way through the bike.

Swimming often feels like a struggle for me because I am not in control of my surroundings. Those times when I can feel the water, and work with it, are amazing, and even with the struggles of the race, I found the water several times during my swim. I am still hoping Ironman Texas is wetsuit legal (well, at least wetsuit optional), but if it is not, I will still get out there and swim. I think that doing it this weekend was a really good decision and am hoping that it will help me avoid any panic at Texas if I find myself without the security of my wetsuit. I cannot wait until May 19, and I am visualizing myself getting out of the water happy and ready to get on my bike. It’s weird sometimes how things that are supposed to be helpful can hinder us when we rely on them too much. I am hoping that I will be able to let my security blanket go if I need to in Texas without too much anxiety. Either way, I am sure it is going to be an adventure.

I have never been good about rest days and recovery. Until recently, I didn’t think it really mattered. My performance has been improving and I have been getting a lot of work done. Yet lately, I am tired. You know, that kind of tired where sleep comes in spurts and you find yourself daydreaming more often than you should about something sweet and gooey. Even after two “rest” weeks in a row on my training plan, I just felt like I had nothing left in the tank. I get annoyed when I am physically tired, but what was harder was that mentally I was spent. And being mentally wiped out makes it hard to get any work done on my dissertation, and event harder to push yourself when training gets tough. It takes the fun out of a lot of things that I love, and I slowly realized that included training and racing. This was turning into a problem, but I just didn’t want to see it.  You would think it would become a little more obvious after a few weeks of struggling, but you know, sometimes it’s hard to see what is happening to you until it is a real problem.

This might have been a very different conversation if I hadn’t decided to go see my parents in Naples, Florida at the last minute. I had such a full summer schedule of classes, I didn’t think it would be happening, but I just was so overwhelmed, and missed my mom so much, I figured it out. When I got here, I fell into the familiar visit patterns of hanging out, relaxing some and just feeling like a kid at home. I wasn’t thinking much about anything, other than fitting in my long run and enjoying some time with the family. I didn’t notice that I wasn’t worrying about everything as much and that during my long run; it didn’t feel as hard, even when it was hurting some. I didn’t realize the change in attitude until I went out this morning, and got caught in the rain.

 

My run started out slow, and tight, my legs were still sore from the long run two days before. I had warmed up during a walk with my mom and her friend, and then headed out for a few miles. My plan was to just go a couple miles, my heart wasn’t into it, and I was thinking I could just call it a day. It was overcast and cool, with a mist in the air, which seemed to encourage everyone to stay inside. I felt like I was the only one out on the road. I don’t know when it happened, but I just kind of let go. One minute I barely had run a half-mile, and then I was at mile three…and then, it started to rain. Not heavy rain, but that eerie misty Florida rain that is heavy enough to get you very wet, but feels like a soft spray on your face.  I kept running, and I realized it felt effortless. My legs turned over, and I felt really good…and I felt happy. Incredibly happy. That giddy, I feel like I could run forever, this is effortless, running is amazing and awesome level of happy that I used to feel when I would run. I felt like I was flying and I didn’t want to stop. And I felt like my chest would explode from the joy of it. I was grinning, with tears in my eyes. I forgot how good it could be to go out and just be in the moment, to let go of all the pressure, commitments and stress, and just move because you want to not because you are trying to fit it in. I felt like I had taken the first cleansing breath I had taken in months, and it was amazing. 

I had lost something over the past few months. The joy I had felt in my life had been smothered by the stress and pressure I had been putting on myself. The stress had gotten so thick, that I couldn’t even see that it was time for a break, for a breath, for a vacation from everything to just be for a while. And in that moment, of running in the rain, it just felt like there wasn’t room for both that joy of being out there and the stress of everything else to exist in me at the same time. This is why I love triathlon, and somehow I had lost that somewhere along the way, but it seemed to have found me again.

As I said in the beginning, this is not the blog I originally thought I would send in this week. I guess my point is the same, to give a gentle reminder to respect your need to rest and recover, but its more than just time to let your body rest. There is only so much stress we can handle, some more than others, but there is always a point where we will eventually break down. If we don’t take that time to break away from both the mental and physical pressures, it will show itself, maybe slowly at first, but sooner or later the negative effects will materialize. I don’t think we respect the impact of mental and emotional stress on our ability to perform physically, whether in a race, training or work. I think these past months have taught me that, and I hope I am present enough to remember it the next time everything starts to feel like work and I misplace that joy of being in the moment.

“ I walked almost that whole steep section.”

“Ugh, why can’t I run up the hill?!?!?!”

Negative self-talk is the bane of my racing existence. It took my friend JT pointing out to me how silly I was being as I dissected this weekend’s race, Kitt Peak Ascent, to make me realize what I had been doing. 

Beautiful view during the race

He was just trying to point out how well the morning had gone, and his antics did end in some serious laughter, but his prodding also made me stop long enough to consider what I would say to a friend, fellow Luna Chix, or really anyone, if I heard them saying the negative things that were going through my head to themselves.

I would not sit by and let them beat themselves up. I would be kind, and encourage them to remember all the other times they met their goal, pushed past a struggle or were just badass.  I would point out that they were strong, and that they were out doing what a lot of people are afraid to do, try something different, put everything out there, and risk doing things that they might never have done before, just for the experience.

So, why, after making it up five miles of the steepest hill I had ever tried to run up, at elevation I was not prepared for, was I saying all these negative things to myself, instead of enjoying the fact that I just won my very first race?

Why is it so easy to be hard on yourself, when it is so easy to be kind and excited for others in the same situation? 

It’s not surprising that sometimes it’s a real effort to accept those times when I worked hard and gave my all, then fell short of my goal. The weird part is, that sometimes it’s just as hard to give myself credit when I do well or exceed even my wildest expectations.

It’s not that I lack confidence or feel that I do not deserve to do well in whatever it is that I am trying to do. It’s that sometimes, I just start to question myself. That little voice just pops into my head when I am working hard and am willing to risk something to achieve a new goal. It feels a bit like self sabotage, that right when I need to be telling myself I am ready or I can do it, I start questioning if I can….or worse yet, start telling myself I am not quite good enough.

I wish I could say that I had some epiphany about how to overcome the times where doubt sneaks into my mind. Or to avoid that dark cloud that makes you wonder if you did enough to make it to the end.

But I am not there yet…I am a work in progress. And all I can do, all I really want to do, is keep getting out there to do the things I love. Like run kind of slow up a very steep hill, in the middle of one of the most beautiful areas I have ever seen, just because it sounded fun. I have to admit, the goat trophy didn’t hurt any either.

I am a breast cancer survivor. I am a triathlete and an Ironman. I am a teammate and friend. I am scarred and damaged, both physically and mentally, and I am fighting to heal from the inside. And with all these things, I am incredibly happy and blessed, and so grateful for the life I am now living. Keyword in all that is living, not just existing, but actively taking part in my life…something I never did before breast cancer changed things.

This past weekend, I found the words that really describe me when I decided at the last minute to sign up for a trail race. Now, I am not a trail runner, so the idea of signing up for a trail run with climbs that seemed small on paper, but in reality were painful even for my hill loving race mates, the day before I had a planned 6.5 hour training ride, in hindsight was probably ill advised. And as I crawled slowly up the hill, asking myself why I was out in the dirt, I remembered the five little words that popped into my head before I signed up for the race…how hard can it be?

These seem to be my famous last words. Well, more like the words that always precede me jumping into some race, training or other event that, just a few years ago, would sound kind of insane. These are also the words that helped me through the scary times, and painful times, during my breast cancer treatment. It’s not that these words make it easy, but even when something seems out of reach, they push me to at least try and avoid the regret of just letting life happen to me.

How hard can it be? I think the first time I thought this was almost five years ago when I bought my commuter bike. I decided that my not very fit self would start riding to work because gas was too expensive. A few months later, I remember thinking these words when I announced that riding my bike was amazing, and I liked it so much I wanted to sign up for an Ironman. Best part – I couldn’t really swim a lap, and didn’t actually know the distance of an Ironman. And a few months later, this became my mantra, when, soon after I signed up for Ironman Arizona, I found a lump, a very large lump, on the side of my breast, and I knew exactly what it was before they told me I had breast cancer at the age of 35. And I remember when I kept repeating these words to myself as I decided to ignore those that thought it was crazy, and not withdraw from Ironman Arizona. I said those five words to the most amazing coaches in the world, Anne and Bill Wilson, and told them it was all I wanted to do.

I decided to do this blog because triathlon saved me, and I am so grateful that I signed up for that first Ironman before I knew I was sick. I am grateful because this sport, and community, gave me something to strive for when I was not sure I had any fight left in me. I am thankful that I had a doctor who supported me because she wanted me to fight. And I am blessed to have coaches who planned my training around surgeries, chemo and radiation to help me make it to the start. Triathlon kept me sane, it kept my body strong, and it gave me a life I never thought I would have. And it all started with the thought, how hard can it be?

I am very excited to have the chance to write this blog this year. I have such big goals for 2012, racing 1,406 miles to raise money for the Breast Cancer Fund, finishing my dissertation and getting back to being healthy after all the things my body has been through. If I can convince anyone of one thing this year, it would be to take up the call of “How hard can it be?” and try that thing that you have been putting off or have been scared to do. The first race, a group ride, running a mile, losing weight or just cutting out fast food…all scary things, and definitely hard to do at first, but really, how hard can it be?