Metamorphosis

When asked about Ironman, usually the first thing people will tell you is that Ironman changes you. It strengthens you, not only in body, but in mind and spirit.  The training takes an enormous amount of dedication and sacrifice, and it basically becomes a temperance by fire. A metamorphosis takes place, and while you may not be completely different....you become refined.

I've mentioned before that when I began this journey a year and a half ago, I was fairly broken. I look back on that now, and wish I could have let that Lori know how different things were going to be in such a short period of time.

A number of people have asked me why I started this - I was tired of doing things the same way and expecting different results.  I needed to fundamentally change the way I looked at things, so I could make better choices in my life, and put myself on a better path.  I wanted to break the tape that played in my head, and show my daughter that if you are willing to push yourself harder than you ever have and not give up...anything was possible.

Coming up to race week, I felt myself turn inward.  It was a time for me to take stock of my whys, to reflect on how far I have come, and how far I still need to go.  Talking with Coach before I left, he told me that if I was expecting this big revelation type moment crossing the finish line, I probably wouldn't get it.  That revelation came with every mile I swam, biked or ran before I even got to the starting line.  What would happen the day of the race was that I would experience more pain and discomfort than I thought, would wrestle with the idea of giving up, and if I could push past it, have the confirmation that I truly could do whatever I put my mind to. With all that in mind, I was off to Houston. I seriously have the best coach I could ask for.

Things got real fast at the welcome banquet that night.  Every athlete was invited, and families and supporters could come as well.  It was a close personal dinner of 2600 of my nearest and dearest friends. You could tell who the repeat Ironmen were - they were generally relaxed while the first timers looked more than a little nervous.  I spoke with the people at my table, and found their stories pretty interesting.  On my left were a young couple.  It was his first Ironman, while it was her third.  On my right was an older couple.  He was racing while she was the support team.  She really had no interest in doing them, but for his long rides, she would load up water and nutrition on her scooter and ride alongside of him.  All of a sudden, a man approached our table and started talking to us.  Then he went to kneel by the empty table next to us.  I kept thinking he looked familiar....oh....my....gosh! It was Mike Reilly! The voice of Ironman! The man who got to pronounce us Ironmen as we crossed the finish line.  I quickly squat walked over to him and asked to take a picture.  Forget the pros, I had just met Mike Reilly!!! It was so superbly cool!

Mike did a great job of hosting the banquet from there.  We met the oldest competitor, who, at 80, was a true inspiration.  I had seen him compete with his daughter at Kona on TV. There were three 18 year olds who were also brought up as the youngest.  He also did an Ironman "Biggest Loser".  He started at 20 pounds, and climbed by 10 pound increments.  When he got to 80, he brought them up on stage to hear their stories.  Most of them were male, and many had the same story. "My wife is a runner/fitness trainer/triathlete, and I needed/wanted to keep up." One poor guy had his wife sign him up the year before as a birthday present, telling him he needed to get in shape, not the present he was expecting I'm sure.  Considering how high the entry fee is, and that it's non-refundable, he got to work, losing 80 pounds in the process.  The best story was the man who lost 200 pounds.  He started at 450 pounds, and would be competing in his first Ironman.  Hearing other people's stories are so incredibly inspiring.

Mike went through the stats - 41% of the field were first timers. The largest percent of first timers ever.  It helped, I think, to know that most of the field would be going through the same thing I was for the first time.

The next day, we got to have a swim practice on the course. As Chris and I went down there, it was still very surreal to me I would be doing an Ironman the next day. I spent a lot of time getting my bearings, taking my time and getting used to all the people. Right as I was coming out I saw a tethered team in front of me.  The man was legally blind and deaf, and he was guided by his friend. I was very humbled by the sight, and thought how brave this man was for doing this.  If he could be brave, well then, I had no excuses.

Race morning, I preferred to avoid the crush of the mass start, 2600 people fighting for real estate was just not something I wanted to do.  So I chose a spot slightly to one side, and hung onto a kayak with about a dozen other people as the clock ticked closer to seven.  As the cannon went off, there was pandemonium.  The pictures do not convey the insanity that is a mass start.  Bodies, hands, feet, all flying everywhere as swimmers look for anything that resembles a open spot to swim in.  There is a rushing sound in those first few moments, and it's the noise of the swimmers' arms all hitting the water.  After the first 800m, I started seeing people raise their arms to get pulled out or have help.  Just keep going Lori, I told myself...no matter what we are going to finish this.

As we entered the channel, I remembered that I had memorized the buildings that came before the exit.  I mentally cheered as I saw them come into view.  My shoulders were burning, and I was ready to get on the bike.  What I didn't know was that there were three sets of the same buildings.  So after I swam past the first set, I looked up - no swim exit...what the heck?  Okaaay, go past the second set - no swim exit.  Now I was just getting annoyed. Swim the third set - there it was! Get out, grab my bag, run into the tent...and HELLO!! There were a bunch of naked women! Tri-suits people! Just not something I was prepared to be seeing, all I'm saying.

The volunteers were awesome, helping us get ready so we could get out on the bikes quickly. Out I went, breaking down the bike course into manageable sections. My body felt a little heavy, but nothing too terrible. The first few miles I spent loosening up my legs, and eating for the long ride ahead. You make sure to eat every hour on the bike, and drink as much as you can. I made the turns into the main section of the course and discovered that Houston is a lot hillier than led to believe.  Head down, keep moving...concentrate on each hill as it comes.  Hit the downhills with speed, stretch when you can. A lot of the athletes were commenting on how the course was different than they expected, but most of those used words I'd rather not repeat here.

I spent a lot of time on the bike praying, in gratitude mostly, but also asking for help to finish the day as strong as I could. In my belief, there was no way to get through that day without God. Around mile 100, I thought to myself, "yep, I'm ready to get off this bike now." Suddenly, things started looking more familiar, and soon I was back in transition.  As soon as I dropped off my bike, I took my shoes off...ahhhh, that felt good.  My right foot had been aching for about 30 miles, and sure as shootin', I was going to lose that toenail...again.  The grass felt so soft on my feet, I was happy.  As I came into the area that had my run bag, Chris was there to cheer me on.  It was really good to see a friendly face.  I looked up and there was the man holding my bag up for me to see it.  I kept telling my legs to go, to run for it, but they had stopped listening to me.  I felt so bad for the guy I told him I just couldn't go any faster.

Getting into the run tent (no naked women this time, thank you!) a volunteer handed me a glass of water, asked me to sit down, took everything out of my bag and asked me how she could help.  Those volunteers really deserve medals of their own. I got changed as fast as I could, and went off running.

The first few miles were good, pace was good, aid stations were good, cheering crowds were good, it was all gooooood. I had this pesky pain in my side that had been nagging me since fairly early on in the bike but I set it aside. Around mile 12-14 (can't really remember) I hit the medical station to ask about my side since I was having some trouble breathing.  Told the medic to give me the Cliff notes version, since I was in a rush. Have to give him credit, didn't even phase him. He pushed and prodded on my side, to the point where I was getting ready to deck him - it hurt! Finally he said I had pulled or strained a muscle, and would probably be walking soon.  Off I went, wanting to get as much running in me that was left.

I saw a sight for sore eyes as I finished my second loop - there was Chris and Farrah! I took a couple of moments to hug them both and talk to them, and then off I went.  Finally, I was walking.  I knew I had enough time to finish, but I still wanted to go as fast as I could, so I power walked with what I had left.  I thanked God for allowing me to do this, to finish, thanked Him for all the people who had supported me during my training and throughout the day (big thanks to Chris and Jason for giving out all the updates!).  As I headed into the last stretch, I walked with a man who was hobbled over to the side with back pain.  I tried to encourage him, to tell him we were almost there, but he smiled at me and said, "Are you sure? I've been lied to a lot today - they said the bike course was flat, then for the last five miles of the bike they said it was only one more mile, and now you are telling me I'm almost done." I laughed and told him I wanted to be done too, so I wasn't lying. Sure enough, we entered the final chute.  I told him to go ahead of me, that I would walk a bit more so he could cross the finish line alone.  Also meant that I could cross the finish line alone...but hey.

The chute is magnetic.  The cheering is incredible.  The people don't care if they know you, they want to be part of your journey. I slapped hands with as many people as I could, including a little girl and her baby brother who looked at me like I was this amazing person because I was about to be an Ironman. You run, because your legs forget that they couldn't a moment ago. You almost float on this sea of well being projected towards you, and then you hear the magic words:

Lori Lyn Orsulak...you ARE an IRONMAN!

My first thought as I crossed? I cannot WAIT to do that again! My second thought? I want to lay down!

Chris, Farrah, the Ericas...awesome people who were there to share this moment with me. It meant so much to have them there. Pictures were taken and then I needed food...I hadn't been able to hold down anything for the last ten miles, but by jove I was going to EAT. It then dawned on me that by ending later than hoped, most of the restaurants would be closed, and I was in no condition to sit in a restaurant anyway (how everyone took pictures without a sneer over how I smelled...like I said, these are awesome people).

We picked up some food and kept the windows down going back to the hotel.  I went to shower, and noticed something at my feet.  Two baby fish had been caught in my suit....poor baby fish! I must have swam through a school during the swim and took them with me.  They were dead (obviously) but I still dubbed them IronFish.  They had, after all, done the distance with me. Then they were given the proper toilet burial all fish hope to have.

I expected to be somewhat sore the next day, and was surprised to be only a little stiff.  What really threw me for a loop was that my brain was oatmeal, I guess 15 hours of concentration was my limit for putting coherent thoughts together.  I had a hard time remembering what I had just said, and everything was foggy.

Still, as I drove home, I thought about what being an Ironman meant to me.  I knew without a doubt that I had the tenacity to get through anything, especially when I allowed my faith to give me strength. I realized that while still bruised in some areas, I was no longer broken. That meant that I was ready to let go of the people who didn't want to be part of my life, or would be detrimental to it. That was a hard one, because there are some truly awesome people who I would have loved to have as lifelong friends who chose to go a different way. But we all have our own journey, and cannot force anyone to follow our path instead of their own. If people want to go, let them, and it will make room for those who want to stay. And some pretty incredible people have chosen to stay.

I truly appreciated what everyone's contributions to me finishing meant to me.  Every "like", every comment, everyone who came out to ride with me, every time I was pushed (thanks Pain Lab Doctors), my coach who was encouraging when he could be and getting after me when I tried to slack off. It all came together to strengthen my resolve to finish that race, no matter what circumstances came along. So in one year and five months, my metamorphosis took place.  Into what?  Not sure...but it will be a heck of a ride discovering what it could be.

If I could give anyone advice, it would be this (for what it's worth to you), dream big, and just know that if you set your mind on that dream, you can get there.  Sure, you might have to take detours along the way, and it may not turn out as you planned. That's okay, because as you stumble, you learn to stand stronger. And as all the layers of garbage that held you back are pulled away, you find out that who you really are was there all along.

Florida is 22 weeks away, and I've learned a few things to change in my training and race day plan.  This may have been the ending of the first chapter, but it's hardly the end of the book.  There are many more races to race, people to help, and workouts to be done. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, someone will get inspired to chase their dream, whatever that may be. So meet you at the starting line, and thank you for being part of this first leg of my journey!

As a post note: To finish this chapter, I sent pictures of the finish to the person who told me I wasn't "odd" enough to do this. I got no response, and to be honest, I didn't need one.  Mike Reilly already told me I was odd enough, everyone who supports me knows I am, finally, I believe I am...so that's more than good enough for me.

Project Unbreakable:  To all the people who gave me their names, you came with me, we crossed the finish line together. Your voice was heard, and you are far braver than you know.  Thank you for entrusting me with your stories.

Musings of a 70.3

Before I start my recap, I wanted to express my appreciation and gratitude to a few people: A huge, huge thanks to my coach, German. You encourage me so much, and push me when I need it "Hey, hey, hey, get moving! The pool is not a social club!" ;)  What you have done for me is something I can never repay.

Sandra, Joey, Chris from PhysioSports...wow, what can I say? Never once did you doubt you could get me back on track after my injury (or at least you never let on) and despite the time crunch, you did it! Sandra, you are one of a kind, and I give you a big hug for all our talks. Joey, you get it done, you are incredibly talented, and I'm grateful you are part of this journey. Thanks for creating PhysioDynamix aka the Pain Lab. I felt the difference on the bike, and know the punishment every week was the reason I got through that run pain free. You are EPIC!  Chris, HAH! Bring out the gloves man! You pushed me every PT session, but I really appreciate how you gave me harder and harder weights during PhysioDynamix, you never let me slack off, and even if I doubted I could do it, you made me do it anyway...to the bushes!

Gina, thank you for lunch that day, it came at just the right moment.  I see a beautiful friendship there, and value you a lot.  Thanks to my training partners Roger and Marcos. You guys push me every practice we work together, and appreciate how you guys keep encouraging me. Then there is the list of people who message me, post, text, talk...you get the idea.  Don't think a single word gets unnoticed or is not appreciated. Much love to you all, you have no idea how those words stay with me.

Chris, (not the Physiosports one) thank you for sitting with me on the phone and all the work you did to help me plot weather strategies. The winds shifted just as you expected, and it gave me a lot of confidence knowing what was coming. You have been so supportive of this crazy sport, God blessed me immensely with your friendship.

Keeping in mind German's words, "it's just a really big training brick", I went into the race at Galveston fairly calm (for me). I usually drive in the day of check in, but this time, I gave myself the extra day to find my zen. I'm really glad I did.  Galveston is a really pretty area, and I walked the beach Friday night, feeling abnormally ready, and really happy.

Saturday I hit the expo and bike check in, and was happy with where I wound up in transition, right smack dab in the middle of the bike and run outs.  After that, I went to go see the swim course.  I really wasn't encouraged by what I saw...

A few of us were talking and laughing about the sign - kind of broke the tension from seeing the chop on the bay.  There was a storm due, and while it was great the temperatures stayed mild, the wind was wrecking havoc on the water.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Galveston, having lunch with friends, and plotting weather changes with Chris.  I went to sleep knowing I had done all I could do, and that whatever happened at the race, happened.

Four a.m. came early, and it was off for transition set up. I used to stress about this, but I've gotten to the point where I can do it quickly. I was ready to go, and spent the rest of the time chatting with the other athletes.

Doesn't Leslie's bike look pretty? I got a lot of compliments on her.

As the waves started, I realized something I hadn't before.  To get in the water, we had to jump off the pier.  Time to admit it, I'm a wimp when it comes to heights. Just don't think about it, just do it. The water temperature was a shock, but got in line and waited for the cannon.  This time there were 127 women in my wave. There were the first timers like Miki, and then there were others who had been racing this distance for 8-10 years.  It's a great sport, when it comes down to it, we are really only racing ourselves.

As I waited, I reviewed my goals for the race: beat my time from Austin, run as much of the 13.1 as I could, and not have any IT band or foot issues. Now I understand that last one can't really be a goal, it was more like a desperate hope. ANNNNNNDDDDD we were off.  The waves were pretty bad, and I got slapped, swum over, bumped and I tickled a few people's feet as we found open areas in which to swim. Before I knew it, the swim was over and it was off to the bike.

Shortly after the bike started, the wind shifted.  While we were supposed to have a head wind out and a tail wind back, I found I had a tailwind. I was prepared for this but had to make a decision. German had told me to hold back a bit on the bike, but now I was faced with a headwind on the way back if the wind didn't shift back the way it was supposed to, which could seriously impact my run.  I decided to let my legs tell me what they had, and as long as the spin felt easy, I would go at that speed. Varying between 20mph and 16 depending on the crosswind, I felt really good.  However, you are looking at 3+ hours stuck on the bike with really nothing to do but make your feet move in little circles.  You have to entertain yourself somehow...songs started playing in my head, and I let them flow, until Neon Lights by Demi Lovato played for 25 mins solid.  Yeah, I needed a distraction. I started paying attention to the names on people's bibs as they passed me. I kept my comments in my head, but would say something to each one."James" - hey, that's my brother's name!..."Colton" - I bet you are blonde...."Heinrich" - Heinrich? Mentally salute Ya-Vol!!

It kept me going.  Sometime during the first half, the rain started. Free shower, just have to be really careful about not sliding out when the road is slick.  It lasted for about 15-20 mins, and didn't really impact my ride.

Mostly on the bike, I pray. Whatever your beliefs on spirituality, for me, I like that time with God.  There are few distractions, and I spend most of the time being thankful and grateful for everything that has happened, both good and bad, because they got me to where I was in that moment. It's peaceful, and it gave me the time I needed to mentally prepare for the run.

Groups of people had driven out to different points of the course to cheer their friends/family members on.  But they cheered for all of us, and it helps give you that boost when your mind starts getting tired.  Nothing like a bunch of people ringing cow bells and cheering you on like you are a superhero to get your blood flowing.

Back in transition and out to the run.  My mind immediately thought about mile five - when my IT band locked in Austin. Trying not to court disaster, I decided to focus on memorizing the course, which was three loops.  People lined most of it, dancing to the DJ's, yelling out encouragement on bullhorns, and the kids reached their hands out, hoping one of us would give them a high five. One little girl went running to her mom after I hit her hand, and said, "Mom, I got to shake hands with an Ironman!" like it was the greatest thing in the world. That was a great moment.

A guy ahead of me was limping fairly badly.  As I got closer, I saw why.  He had been a victim of the slick roads.  His shoulder was completely raw, and the scrapes continued down the side of his leg. Most likely he had twisted his ankle being clipped in the pedals when he went down.  I felt bad for him, but was really impressed that limping or not, he would finish.

I walked briefly each aid station, not having yet mastered the fine art of drinking without wearing most of it. But my body was pretty happy to continue running.  Mile five came and went.  I felt a little tired and sore, but was able to keep moving. No pain! The humidity shot up, and so I started pouring ice water on my neck to keep from overheating, and to feel refreshed. I met a girl who was running about my pace, so we ran together for most of what was left, chatting when we were able, and pushing each other on when we felt like walking.

When I saw the finish line, I really couldn't believe it. I had some chafing burns from the wetsuit, but other than that, no injuries, no major pain, and I had taken 20 mins off my time in Austin, with a final time of 6:16:30. Knowing soon I would have to double the distance, I took mental stock to see if my body could do it. Yeah, I think so, but maybe at a little slower pace.

Of course, the first thing I wanted to do was get my morning bag so I could take a pic and post it on Facebook - because if it's not on Facebook, it really didn't happen. I was shocked when I got on to see how many people were tracking me, and all the supportive comments being said.  It overwhelmed me, and it meant a lot. How Lindslee got this shot I have no idea, but I'm really grateful she did:

Everyone has been so supportive and I appreciate each and every one of you. There is no way I could have done this without all of you, and so thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

After a rest day, I was back at the pool.  My arms felt a little noodle-y, but I'm ready to tackle these last four and a half weeks to IMTX. It's been quite the ride, I've learned so much about myself, my faith, and what happens when you are crazy enough to dedicate yourself to a goal, no matter how seemingly impossible when you start.

Keep moving, never give up, but most of all, believe you are worth it!

Get Up and Train!

It was the day I had been hoping for and dreading at the same time.  Sunday was my first race back since my injury took me out of action.  While I felt better and under the wonderful care of Joey and Chris at PhysioSports I knew my foot was stronger, this would be the first and only test I got at seeing whether we could amp up the running part of my training like I would need to for Ironman Texas.

Not ready yet for the half marathon, I was cleared to do the relay, and I was lucky enough to find a partner in Rebecca Cruz.  We had similar paces, so neither of us would feel like we had held the other back.  Plus, both of us were coming off injury, so that made it all the sweeter.

I couldn't sleep Saturday night.  I wasn't stressed, just a little nervous and anxious over what the verdict would be.  After about three hours sleep, I gave up, got ready and left the house.  Doh! Forgot my Garmin! Luckily I was only a few blocks from the house.  Got inside, and Bear was howling - forgot to feed the dogs too. Fed them, grabbed my Garmin, and left.  Halfway there, I realized I forgot my chip - double DOH! Turned around, got home, and Bear was howling - forgot to let them back out again. Let the dogs out, got my chip and there was my bib - golly! I have never been so scatterbrained before a race!  After a brief flurry of activity looking for my race belt, I was finally ready.

Getting to the race site, I tried not to think.  When those of you who know me stop laughing, please keep reading.  I said I TRIED not to think. I quickly found tons of people I knew, and we do what absolutely must be done before any race....stretch? Nah...take pictures!

We were given a late start due to the fog, but it didn't matter to me.  I had only two goals - run my entire part of the relay (7.25 miles) and try to stay as close to 10 min pace as possible. Anything better was frosting as far as I was concerned. Everyone was chatting, laughing and taking last minute pictures.  I love this, I thought. Then the countdown began...

While I was standing with friends near the front of the pack, I knew I should give those behind me the chance to pass me - I was not winning any awards today.  Music playing, I tried to focus only on my cadence and breathing, and not to think about my foot at all.  Soon, who comes running up behind me but the Ultra guru himself, Frank.  I had seen him at packet pickup the day before, and he had said he would pace me.  I hadn't seen him at the start, so I thought he went ahead.  Turns out he was in the very back, and slowly moved up while he looked for me - cool!

We came up to Sebastian Buitron, the next generation of Ironman athletes.  He and I talk Ironman like others talk about football - we like discussing stats, races, and qualities of our favorite pro Ironman athletes.  For a few miles we all kinda drifted along together.  Then at about mile three, I found that a slower pace was triggering my IT band soreness.  I apologized to Sebastian, but had to push it a little harder.  Off Frank and I went...

No pain at all from my foot, but my IT band continued to tighten.  This was the same thing that happened to me in Austin at the Half Ironman before it locked and I wanted to cut it off.  But I figured I need to have an Ironman mentality, so since it was tight and not painful, I didn't stop. Frank was awesome, he kept chatting with me, and encouraged me to keep my pace up.

At mile 6, the band began to loosen a bit. Very grateful, I picked up my pace.  At this point, my foot ached slightly, but not even enough to mention. I picked up the pace again in the last .75 miles, hitting a 9 min pace.  I was thrilled.  I had done it! Relief flowed through me as I hugged Rebecca at the hand off point and saw her beetle off. Now Ironman was a reality for me. No more uncertainty, I was on the mend and could handle distances on my foot again....YES!!! My eyes actually welled with happiness, knowing the worst was behind me.  Sure I had work to do, but now I had the chance to do Ironman the way I wanted to.

I went back to the finish line, wanting to see my friends finish if I could.  The finish line of the race is where the magic happens, people pushing themselves in those last few yards, and their supporters out there in full force, cheering them on as if their yells alone could carry the runners over the line. I cheered my head off as people I knew crossed - Marcos, Felipe, Javier, Carly (smiling, as always). As I joined the finishers in the recovery tent, I let it all sink in. And while I didn't have a camera in hand, I took a mental picture of everything going on around me, so if I ever had to face being out for a longer period of time again, I would remember how sweet it was to come back.

As I watched my friends, smiles on their faces, I began to really realize what this community and sport means to me. Whether it was their first race ever, first race back from injury, or another chance at a PR, races are the culmination of hours of sacrifice, dedication, sweat and tears. And we get to share the accomplishment with others who feel the same way.

I was happy to run into Gina, who has always been a great encouragement to me. Big hugs, quick recaps of each other's race, pictures (of course) and more hugs.  Such a positive person!

David Zuniga and Yanory Hernandez once again showed why they are so inspiring. I think all of us hope we can be them when we grow up...

As I left the race, I began to feel very, very happy.  The last few years have been rough, and the last four months have been particularly trying.  Now I could see it all coming together.  There are just over three months to my first Ironman, and those magic words.  While it won't be easy, and there may still be days I struggle, I overcame my fears during my injury, and know I became stronger because of them.  I really needed a nap, but too happy to sleep, I went and tackled my swim workout instead.  Man that hot tub felt great afterwards!

Sunday I was told something that meant a lot to me - I have an Ironman soul. That meant a lot, and I hope that I can live up to that ideal.

Three months and six days from now....Ironman Texas! Thanks to all of you who continue to follow my journey, and inspire me to reach higher. :)

Project Unbreakable

While I love writing as humorously as I can, sometimes something comes along that just doesn't allow me to. This topic is one of those.  I appreciate those of you who will read this blog post in its entirety, since it is something I feel passionately about. This is my cause...

When I came back to triathlon, and set my sights on Ironman, my reasons were simple: fulfill a goal I had wanted since I was in college, and to prove those who said I couldn't do it wrong.  As I have been on this journey, I have begun to realize the enormity of what it's all about, and how it becomes more than just you, the individual.

Approximately 90,000 people race in Ironman each year.  That's about .02% of the US population - not 2%... but .02%.  Out of those, 1800 qualify for Kona. Scary stats.  To keep myself motivated while on restriction, I would watch the race recaps of as many races as I could stand.  It helped to remind me of why I loved this sport, and kept that desire burning until I could train again.

Then I started listening to the stories.  A lot of these people allowed Ironman to refine them, and in the process, gave them a platform to bring bigger issues to light.  Team Hoyt is probably the most famous, and anyone who can sit there stone faced while listening to how a father trained for an Ironman to be able to carry his disabled son the whole way just doesn't have a heart.  Then enter Blazeman, the man who completed an Ironman while suffering through ALS, and died a year later. He inspired others to race for ALS, in his memory.

There are countless stories of those who trained while on chemo pumps, or did lunges and walked the hospital corridors while going through cancer treatments to inspire other cancer patients and survivors, and went on to complete Ironman.  Military veterans who had amputations during their service race to motivate other amputee veterans to strive for a full life.  And then there is the firefighter who does the marathon portion of the Ironman in full gear to raise money for the children and families of those firefighters who bravely lost their lives in 9/11.

So what was my cause? I thought about this for a long time, wanted to pick something that would give a group of people a voice, one that may not have one. And then one day, I came across Project Unbreakable.

Project Unbreakable is the brain child of college student Grace Brown.  It is a website that allows victims of sexual assault/molestation to become survivors by finding their voice.  They write down what was said to them by their attackers, or those that they turned to after being attacked, and have a photo taken.  These are uploaded to the website in a gallery.  When before these brave women and men thought no one would listen and so they kept quiet, now they have a voice, and they can reclaim some of the power in themselves that was taken from them.

The statistics are scary, and saddening.  One out of every three girls, and one out of every five guys will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime - and those stats are skewed by the fact that those are only of the reported attacks.  Many go unreported out of fear of retaliation, shame, or blame.  For those who are brave enough to report it, they find themselves let down by a horrible legal system - fifteen out of sixteen rapists NEVER spend a day in jail.  Often, the police look at these situations as "he said/she said" and fail to do the proper investigations.  This leaves the victim even more traumatized, because they are not protected by the very system that should be protecting them, and the rapists go on to rape others, or sometimes worse, because they have become bolder by getting away with it.

Audrie Potts is a very sad example of the legal system failing to do its job.  Audrie, 16, was at a house party, and drank alcohol laced Gatorade.  When she passed out, three boys sexually assaulted her, and wrote lewd comments on her body, took pictures with their phones, and then text those pictures to their classmates. She did not remember the attack the next day, but after being shown the pictures being sent to the rest of the school, she committed suicide.  The two younger boys (16) got 30 days in juvenile detention that they got to serve on weekends so as not to disturb their weekly schedule, and the older boy (17) got a 45 day sentence in detention. Bad check writers, and those with unpaid parking tickets get stronger sentences.

Some people will say, "what was she doing there to begin with?" or"why was she drinking? That was stupid." Those are not the right questions to be asking.  Because no matter where she was, what she was drinking, or whether it was a smart move or not to be where she was, none of that adds up to her deserving being attacked and ridiculed the way she was. Perhaps the right question to be asking is, "what are we doing as a society that would allow these boys to think that doing this to a girl was acceptable?"

We teach our children as they get older not to take drinks from people they don't know (alcohol or otherwise), if they are going to drink have someone to watch over them, not go into dark areas alone at night, etc.  But what we fail to realize is that these attacks happen during the day, in parking lots and homes, and often by people we think we know and can trust.

I hope by promoting Project Unbreakable I can help more victims become survivors, and to help them find their voices.  The more victims charge their attackers, the more they speak up against the injustice done to them by the legal system, I believe there will be no choice but for there to be more action taken against these predators. We, as a community, also have to make sure not to blame these victims, be their support and comfort as they deal with something that will alter their lives forever.

I also hope to create awareness in those who it hasn't happened to; make them even more aware of their surroundings and who they are with, and to avoid any situation where a predator would have access to them. To ask parents to speak openly with their children about this topic, and to teach both genders the value of respecting one another.  If we all stand together, we can make a real difference in making sure our children/family members never become one of those awful statistics.

To that end, I am offering to carry the names of anyone who wishes to have a voice, anyone who wishes to become a survivor and no longer a victim, with me as I race in Ironman.  If you know of anyone who has had this happen to them, I will take their name - initials if they wish to stay anonymous. I will write all of the names on a card and carry it with me throughout the races. You can message me through Facebook, or email me at unbreakable1013@hotmail.com.

I wish to bring awareness to a topic that so many don't wish to talk about. Maybe we don't want to because if we talk about it, we have to admit this happens in our society - one we pride ourselves on being so much better than others. But it does happen...it happens to our daughters, our sons, our sisters and brothers. It happens to our mothers and fathers (there is no age limit on sexual assault). And the only way to make that change, the only way to make it stop, is to raise up our voices, to stop the silence. Stop looking at the victims in the "what did you do to deserve it" mentality, and to pressure the legal system to take stronger measures against those who shatter another person's life against their will.

Unshakable...unsinkable....unbreakable.  Survivors have a voice, and when they use it, they will find that while they are bent for a time, they have not been broken.

Here is the web address for Project Unbreakable:

www.projectunbreakable.tumblr.com

The Nail in My Shoe

Growing up on farmland, we were taught at a young age to be of hardy stock.  You fall, you get back up - don't expect anyone to coddle you.  I remember falling down the stairs of my grandmother's house and catching my wrist on a nail. It gave me a nasty two inch scar, but my mother washed it, wrapped it up and told me to go play with my sister - no doctor, no stitches, no tetanus shot. You had to be fairly close to death to go to the doctor.

So back in May, when a pain started flaring in my foot, it just made sense to me to ignore it, it would heal on it's own. Except it didn't.  I stretched, I rolled it with a hard ball, I iced it - nothing worked.  Going to the doctor just didn't cross my mind, even though it was said to me enough times. Turns out I'm kinda stubborn....go figure.

The pain was really bad during those last few weeks of training, but it was so close to the Austin Half, I was scared that the doctor wouldn't let me race, so I was going to leave it until after.  It was only a few weeks, how bad could it get? Granted, every step felt like I was stepping on a nail, but hey, no problem!

So when my IT band locked in my left leg during Austin trying to compensate for my injured right foot, I began to pay attention.  I have a relatively high pain tolerance (genetics says it has something to do with red hair), but this was something I had not experienced before, and I've given birth, and had kidney stones. Ironman would not be my reality this way, I needed to heal.  Still, I hesitated.  It wasn't until I could barely walk in the mornings that I finally broke down and saw the doctor.

The news was of the good/bad variety.  Plantar fasciitis in my right foot, but no heel spur (YAY, no surgery).  It was thought the pain was originating from my hip, so I was placed on full torture - I mean restriction.  No workouts...at all...for weeks...ARRRGGGGHHHH! My fridge had never been so clean.  Once I was released into PT, it was determined that it was not my hip causing the problem, so I was cleared to bike and swim. The stabilizer muscles in my foot and calf were weak, and for me to continue, they would have to get stronger.

PT is awesome, and Joey and Chris have been doing a great job of challenging me. I look at each exercise as a stepping stone to get me healed and back into training, so I attack them the same way I do my regular workouts. You wouldn't think such seemingly easy exercises would make you work so hard, but man, some of them caused me to say a lot of bad words (under my breath of course). The Bosu ball and I had an interesting introduction - sure, she looks sweet and innocent, but don't be deceived, she will chew you up and spit you out if you aren't paying attention. We have come to terms, and I can honestly say I have come to love working on it.

Mentally, it was tough going.  Fears and doubts ran through my head constantly: would my foot heal in time? Would I get my paces back? Is my dream over before it even began? Would the pain come back? Were those who said I would not be able to do this right? Over and over...

A couple of weeks ago, I was allowed to start running a little on the unloader.  It was a tough moment - something I wanted so bad, but at the same time, I was now confronted with reality. Having not run much for almost two months, I had no idea how my foot would respond.  I didn't let these fears show, because I really wanted to see if I could do it, and I thought if I expressed doubt, Joey would hold off on letting me try.  Running on the unloader is very different from regular running- you aren't carrying your body weight.  But at this point, I'll take it, I thought.

Last session, Joey told me that they had basically progressed me as much as they could - I'll most likely be released next week, and then just continue to do the exercises on my own in my gym workouts. The scarier news - in time for my runiversary, I would be allowed to start running again. Just three miles (which sounds like a blip compared to the mileage that I was doing before Austin, but I know I will earn that run).

Today it is four months to Galveston Half - my next step to Ironman, with Texas Full just six weeks later.  I am under no illusions; I have a ton of work to do to get ready in time. Fear toys with me, waiting for me to let my guard down and then smacking me upside the head with doubt. While my foot still has it's moments, and there is always a little pain, the nail is gone from my shoe, and I can feel those little muscles getting stronger. Thanks to my doctors, my PTs, and everyone's great advice, I think my foot is almost there.

Challenges make success taste that much sweeter.  This last quarter of 2013 gave me some of the biggest challenges of my life - physically, emotionally, mentally.  So I know that when I cross the finish line of each of my three races scheduled for this year, I won't focus on the time (well, yeah I will, but not JUST on my time), it will be more of how I came smack up against my fears, and I didn't let them have power over me.

Someone asked me what I would feel when I cross the finish line at Ironman.  Before October, I would have given a different response.  Now, I think I will feel....gratitude. I will feel grateful that God gave me the strength to face my worst fears, and allowed me to reach the first of my goals.  Ask me again in May, then I can tell you exactly what I felt when I became an Ironman.

70.3 Austin Half

Normally, I write about a race as soon as I can after, so as not to lose the details.  This time, I wanted to have time to reflect on what happened first.

Going into this race, I knew I could do the individual distances, but putting all three together on the same day...I wasn't too sure about that.  Still, my coach seemed to be sure, and since he knew what he was talking about for every other race, I decided to believe him.

Shortly after Wally's Tri, something happened that caused me to have anxiety, especially about the water.  I know, who would have guessed this fish would become afraid of the water?  A week before the Half, I wasn't even sure I was going to do the race because of it. It was only the support of the people around me that motivated me to at least try.  Besides, I wasn't going to throw away nine months of training without a good fight.

Race day dawned rainy and slightly chilly.  SPI Tri 2.0 I thought.  There was a flurry of activity as Farrah and I went from one transition to the next, getting our stations ready.  During that time the rain stopped, and the announcer said we would be starting on time.  Farrah and I made it down to the starting chute, and that's when the anxiety hit.  The waves were marked by swim cap, and we were blue (the guys behind us were pink, I think the organizers did that for fun)

You can't ask for a calmer, more positive person to be around than Farrah.  She simply radiates warm fuzzies. As our wave moved closer to the water, she reminded me of words I had told her to help her get over her fear: Fear is in our minds, we create it and so we can control it.  Funny how your own words come back to you.  Breathe and focus...Once we entered the water, we had two minutes before our cannon would go off.  I reached out to Farrah for one last hug before the start. And then it began.

I usually need about 400 m to find my stride.  This generally works out well since that distance is generally pretty chaotic in the beginning. Move here, dodge there, as the mass of bodies work toward the same goal.  When I got to the 400 m buoy, I had a full out panic attack.  I came up to sight and couldn't see the course.  I had over rotated and turned myself sideways. Getting myself back on track, I seriously considered quitting. Just keep swimming while you think about it, I thought.  You can always get picked up later.  So I started thinking about why I should keep going.  I already paid for it, I already trained for it, but most importantly, there will be a girl at the end of this race who will learn from her mother what it is to stick to a goal.  Okay, one buoy at a time, and try not to completely melt down.

I have never been so timid in the water.  When I hit 1600 m, as I sighted I took a quick glance at my watch.  I should have done it earlier.  When I saw how far behind pace I was, all anxiety left me, all thoughts of quitting were gone, and all I could think was "Oh, HELL no! That is just not going to happen!"  I finished the last 300 m faster than I ever have.

I knew I had time to make up on the bike.  There was no time to drive the course ahead of time, so I wasn't sure what I was riding into.  Making sure I kept my nutrition plan intact, off I went.  Training on Vintage and then racing on a tri bike is probably the best thing I could have done. I felt light, felt strong, and had no problems tackling the hills.  On the first big hill, I was coasting down, and saw that I was doing 33 mph.  Halfway down, there was a speed limit sign of 30. Hee hee hee, I was speeding...on my bike. Being the math person I am, I recalculated at every checkpoint what I need to come in on the bike so I could reach my time goal. Coming into transition, I had done what I wanted to do - and had given myself the time on the run I needed.

Hannah and Yanory were waiting for me at T2.  Seeing them gave me an extra boost, and I was excited to get out on the run. I really did feel great, only a little tired, but fired up and ready to go.  Got out onto the run, and felt this slight pull in the outside of my left leg.  It will work itself out, I thought.

On the run course, the middle included a long downhill and a steep uphill, with a tour through the park in the middle.  With the three loops, this meant doing the up and down six times.  It was great having the two way traffic, because I got to see everyone I knew out on the run. Loop one was no problem, kept pace, felt good.  Started on loop two and that twinge started flaring up.  After the downhill, it was starting to ache, so I thought I would walk a bit to rest it.  I walked with this nice lady who turned out to be from Brownsville, and stopped to help a guy who was cramping up by giving him some S caps.  All of a sudden, two hands clamped down on my shoulders and I heard my name called.  My buddy Ramon had a flat on the bike, and he had just caught up to me.  I thought about running with him, but the pain in my knee was still nagging.

Finishing the second loop, I saw Hannah and Yanory again.  This time, I stopped to hug them both, and to let them know the pain was getting worse. It was very uplifting having all the people there, lining the end part of the run course.  They didn't just cheer their family members on, they cheered everyone on. And since your first name is on your bib, they call you by name, it's very cool.

That last loop was pretty much agony.  I was reduced to walking one minute, running one minute.  A nurse joined me for about a mile, and she said that as a nurse, she recommended I stop to prevent more damage, but as a fellow triathlete she knew that was pretty pointless advice. She waved me on for the last mile, and I started forcing myself to run two minutes at a time. I saw Farrah, now out on her run, and we stopped to give each other a congratulatory hug.  It was great to see her before the finish. Right before the curve to the finish line, my leg gave out. I stood there crying, gave myself exactly ten seconds, and then said to myself, "Suck it up, you've got people in there waiting for you.  You will run to that finish line, smile for your finisher picture and then you will get to medical...so get going!"

And so I did...behind my time goal, but finishing despite the obstacles that were holding me back. Yanory I saw right away, but as I crossed the finish, I didn't see Hannah.  I felt down thinking she might have missed it.  Then, there she was, holding her arms out to me.  I went and hugged her and heard the words that made all of this worthwhile - "I love you Mom, and I am so very proud of you". In time, I will forget the pain, I will forget the details, but I will never forget that moment. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could, but my leg needed attention.

Getting into medical, I saw that in the grand scheme of things, I wasn't that bad off.  There were people on beds with IV's, and one guy complained about his foot hurting, and when they took off his sock, the bottom of his foot looked like hamburger meat.  He had a series of blisters that had the skin taken off from running.  Yep, I'd take my knee pain.  They iced it and massaged it a bit, and I asked for a verdict.  The girl told me that my IT band was pretty tight, but she was fairly sure it was my LCL tendon that I had damaged.  I was still so amped up from the race it didn't even register with me what that meant.  It was only when I looked at the guy next to her and saw his face I asked how long I would be out.  A month, she said, at least.  A month?  A MONTH?  I looked at her and said, "It has two weeks, tops.  I have a Full to train for." Obviously, they hear crazy talk often because she didn't laugh at me.  She just said to get it checked out, and hopefully she was wrong.

I really wanted to get back to Yanory and Hannah, so I asked if I could leave.  Then she laughed.  She said I could leave if I could walk to the pole and back.  Hah, I thought, I just finished the Half, I can walk that far.  I stood up, and almost immediately fell down.  What the heck was up with my legs?  I will make them work I thought.  And like a weebel, I tottered to the pole and back. She laughed some more and said she gave up.  I was released.

Coach said I had to take the week off.  It has been like living in a different world. When you become so immersed in training, you forget any other life.  I've read books, watch TV, and sat by the pool for long periods, trying to fix what triggers the anxiety. Got good news from the doctor - my IT band locked up, I never injured my tendon. Lots of stretching, massage, and some therapy and I will be better than new.

It was an amazing experience that I hope to remember for a long time to come.  My students were so excited to see my medal, and a few of them now want to train for triathlons themselves.  Tomorrow I start training for the Houston Full. I'll find a new normal as the training gets longer and more arduous. Thanks to my support crew, I found that I had more inner strength than I thought I did. I hope that someday, I can help others the way they helped me.

Fully Crazy but Half the Distance

1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run...the Austin Half Ironman


It seems like yesterday that I walked into VRC and said I wanted to do an Ironman. It seems even shorter that I was hyperventilating over signing up for the Half Ironman. Now that it's here and only a couple of days away, I know I should be nervous, or excited or both.  But truly, right now I just feel blessed.

This is not my accomplishment.  So many people helped me along the way, and I would not have gotten here without them. I will probably miss someone here, and if I do, I apologize now.

Thanks Nacho, for being the one waiting for me when I first walked into VRC and being so welcoming.  You have no idea how close I was to walking out of the store because I was intimidated by my own goal.

Thanks to the VRC running group for being there week after week, for commiserating over the tough runs, and for every "good job" you gave me when you passed.  Maggie, Jose Obando, Carlos (my running daddy), Cesar, Amanda, Karla, Gaby, George, Lupita, Marco, Earnesta, Andy, Sara, Hector - you guys kept me chasing you, and I thank you for that, it made me a better runner.

Thanks Maggie for all the pep talks, for coming to CapTex to cheer me on, and for the days of texting face wars.  That meant a lot to me :)

Thanks to David Zuniga for teaching me how to run hills (which will come in very handy in Austin I hear) and to Donna for teaching me how to run for fun.  I haven't forgotten my first trail run with you!

Thanks to Mari Calzada for being there when I needed a shoulder, and for teaching me how to relax when running (not the easiest thing for me!).  You and Carlos are missed a lot down here! Carlos, someday we will play Game of Thrones.

Thanks to all the trail/distance runners who gave me advice whenever I asked, and encouragement along the way - Celinda, Norma, David, Ben, Sami, Carly (and her bright smile), and the many more who posted things that always inspired me.

Big thanks to Cyndi for helping me break through my mental pacing barrier - running with you made all the difference. Hopefully soon I'll take you up on your offer to run Boston with you.

Thanks to Frank for running with me to help me pace, and playing beach volleyball - that was a blast! You'll be back at full tilt in no time!

Thanks to Esmeralda Chavez for not giving up on me when we first met, and inviting me to be a Cyclepath. Every word of encouragement you have given me did not go unappreciated. Thanks to the members of the Sunday ride group - especially Ramon for always being a ray of sunshine, and Mike for pushing me but giving me the right technique to make it effective.

Thanks to Luis De La Garza, Ramon Catindig and Gerardo Aguilar for letting me ride with the "big guys" a few times, and taking turns babysitting me so I wasn't lonely when I couldn't keep up.  You guys are awesome, and someday soon, I will keep up, or die trying.

Special thanks to Gerardo for the loan of the bike and for teaching me how to use it. I'll keep it safe, I promise.

Big hugs to Erica W. and Erica Proffer - I look forward to riding with you two more, and just spending time in general - love ya both.

Farrah - oh my gosh, I'm not sure there are words.  You scared me the first time I met you and you gave this non-tactile person the biggest hug of her life. Who knew the power of an all encompassing hug?  Meeting you was such a blessing to my life, and I look forward to seeing your smile.

Yanory...wow, you are a crazy girl, but that suits me just fine.  Thanks for all the talks, for making me chase you on the bike, and for everything else.  It's going to be a wild ride.

Thanks to the Run, Walk or Crawl group for inspiring me every day with all the posts and responses to my posts.  Never did I think I would find such a group of awesome women.

Thanks to all my friends on Facebook - posting workouts made me accountable, and every person who posted or messaged me encouraging things never went unnoticed.  Whether you live next door or in another country, you all kept me motivated.

Thanks to Cheryl Medrano for tea and scones, for pool talks and spinach salads...may there be more.

To my other adopted family, the Villarreals, thank you for the home away from home in Austin, and for searching for me when you thought I had drown at CapTex. Art, you are like a brother to me, and your support and advice have held me up in some of the most trying times of my life.  Monica (aka Mini Me), you are the little sister I always wanted (although sometimes you act like a big sister). Thanks for the daily talks.  It will be an honor to have you guys there at my race this weekend - I promise not to drown, so if you don't see me, don't panic :)

To my former Canadian coach and great friend Brian - you are sarcastic, unrelenting, and generally crabby.  That being said, you are also a huge support to me, and someone I consider a close friend.  Thanks to the invention of Skype, I am able to hear your sarcastic comments all the way from up north.  I look forward to our long typed conversations - even though it's been years, we always pick up right where we left off.  That's a sign of true friendship.

Big hugs and thanks to my adopted parents - Sally and Xavier Moron.  You are my biggest cheerleaders, my support staff, my doggie feeders, my yard gnomes, and generally, the most awesome people I could have asked for in my life.  God really blessed me the day I moved next door.

Love you, Hannah, for telling your mom it was her time, and for being patient when we would come home and I would say that I had to go for a run/bike/swim. I am so happy to share this with you and hope I make you proud of me.

Now the big one - my coach German Madrazo.  I have no idea what you saw in me that made you take my goal on, but I don't think I could thank you enough for believing in me. Thank you for all your guidance, the workouts, completely changing my running form so I actually could become a runner, and for all the positive energy you just seem to radiate.  I know I have a long way to go to the ultimate goal, but thanks to you, I am on my way.  You and Luci are going to make awesome parents!

I started this journey in January, and along the way learned a lot about life and myself. I met an entire community of amazing people I never knew existed, and am so thankful to have them in my life. There were a few hard knocks along the way, but those times only made my resolve stronger. As I head to the starting line on Sunday morning, I will carry all of you with me (figuratively of course). I have bigger mountains to climb after this, but for now, I am going to enjoy this race for what it is. Thanks for all the support, and see you at the starting line!