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!

No Struggle, No Reward

With less than a month to the Half Ironman in Austin, there is an epidemic running through those that will be competing - doubtitis.

For the majority of us, it will be the first time we have attempted that distance. Even though we have been putting in the work and hours needed to condition our bodies to doing these long distances, we won't actually put all three parts of the race together until race day.

Our condition is common, pretty much everyone goes through it, no matter what their sport. "Did I train enough? Am I strong enough? What the hell was I thinking paying to do this to myself?" That kind of thing. There are those who will openly admit that they are feeling this way, and then there are those of us that don't say anything and just hold it in.

Day to day I vary.  Days like Saturday, where a 60 mile ride with a good headwind during parts of it showed me that I could maintain a good pace even when I was nutritionally deficient (when I stopped at red lights for the last ten miles, my legs literally shook - serves me right for only bringing one GU). I knew had I done the right nutrition, I could have easily started the run.

Sunday was an open water swim - you could see the tension in people's faces as they talked about the upcoming SPI Tri, and further out, those doing the Half. It seemed like the kind of day to really play on your fears - a bunch of people were stung by jellyfish that were not normally out there, two people were observed by a curious dolphin (which I wish had happened to me that would have been SO cool!) and Cheryl was swarmed by a group of fish.

Since swimming is like breathing to me, and I was spared the jellyfish thankfully, the swim was more therapeutic to me than anything. I could tell, however, that not everyone shared my view. Swimming generally tends to be the sport most triathletes survive to be able to get to the rest of the race.

I think as these next few weeks play out and the race approaches we need to remember that it is these fears and doubts that allow us to have that sweet feeling of accomplishment when we finish.  There is no victory without the struggle, no reward without the challenge.

For me, I have been blessed this last week or so.  I've had the chance to run with an uber runner - Cyndi, who eats the Boston Marathon for breakfast.  You can't help but be encouraged when she tells you you are doing well. I've had encouragement from everyone, the demons in my head have decided to tone down the noise, and my foot is getting better. My own doubtitis flairs up once in a while, but I welcome it, knowing that each time I feel it and beat it, that medal around my neck will mean so much more.  

The Boogeyman and the Poodles

As children, we are afraid of the boogeyman.  He generally lives either under the bed, or in the closet. When I was a child, I used to think about poodles at the circus to try to distract me from being scared of what could be lurking in the dark. All that managed to do was make me afraid every time I thought about poodles at the circus.

As we get older, and less afraid of the dark, the boogeyman takes up residence in our heads.  He feeds off every person who put us down, every memory of feeling unworthy or incapable, and toys with us as we face new challenges.

During this last year, I have made a concentrated effort to take a bat to my boogeyman and pound the living snot out of him.  Because of this, I can honestly say that I am currently living the best, most peaceful times of my life. I'm happier than I have ever been, and every day I gain more confidence in myself and my goals.  Physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally, I am the strongest I have ever been.  Even the occasional freak out day is nothing compared to the stress and drama I have endured in the past. 

Having had removed the negative influences in my life, I worked on healing the wounds left behind.  Unfortunately, longstanding wounds tend to become infected, and there is more under the surface than it appears. Sunday was exactly six weeks to the Half Ironman.  Sunday night I had the nightmare.

It was so real, and the pain that surfaced because of it was powerful.  I know that people say a dream is just a dream, and that may be true, but this one caused a trigger. The boogeyman had not eaten in a while, and he just was given a free pass to a banquet.

A flood of voices came into my head, telling me I was done, I would crash out before the race, or I would quit the day of. A year ago, this would have knocked me to my knees.  Today, it is like a thorn in my side.  It's annoying and nagging, but I can keep moving. I also welcome it. Let it surface so that I can heal it once and for all. Like a thorn, draw it out, let out the pus, and let it heal clean. It's not easy, but the alternative is going back - and that is something I just can't allow.

Last night I ran into Lori - not me, but the more badass version of me, Lori Tijerina.  The conversation we had helped me to see that while the boogeyman may yell and scream in my head, I'm far stronger than he is. It is an incredibly liberating feeling knowing that what held you back before doesn't have a hold on you anymore.  It may still be there, but it doesn't scare me.

There are many scars I carry from my past, but now I carry them as a reminder that if I made it through what I have, then what I'm facing is not such a big deal. I have the best weapons in my arsenal - my faith, and an incredible group of people who look at this ordinary looking woman and see something special.

I don't think I'm anything out of the ordinary, and I'm doing what a lot of people have done before me. There are much more extraordinary people out there doing much more extraordinary things.  But for me, I'm doing the one thing I never thought I would be able to do - believe I can, and hold that belief out against those who would say I couldn't.

Do I hope that my story and journey will help someone else take that step to healing? Absolutely! I don't feel you take a journey just to get yourself there, you have to pay it forward.

I wish I could feel bad that the boogeyman is going to find the food at the banquet unpalatable, but umm...no. He is officially on a starvation diet. Seeing how much I like this time of my life, and knowing that by allowing the rest of my hurts to heal it will only get better, I no longer have room for the boogeyman or the poodles in my head.  I'm way too busy seeing myself at the finish line getting my Ironman medal.

The countdown continues...

Definition of a Dork

Part of my Ironman experience has been taking a good look at who I was and who I am becoming.  From where I started this journey, I have come a loooooong way, those of you who met me in January for the first time can attest to that, right Esmeralda?

When I am in my element, say, the pool for instance, I have no problems. Can talk to anyone, feel confident, swim like a fish. Slowly but surely, the other sports have become like that too. Watch me in my classroom and I am completely at home. However....get me out of my element, and for a time I will turn into the definition of a dork.

It doesn't happen right away, which is probably why it can catch people off guard. It generally tends to happen a couple of weeks after meeting someone.  It happens with guys and girls alike, but when it's a cute guy, well then, I might as well be Raj from the Big Bang Theory.  I get nervous, I stumble over words, and I have a tendency to stick both feet in my mouth and swallow on a regular basis. I see myself in third person, figuratively smack myself on the forehead and say, "DORK!"

Fortunately, it tends not to last. A couple of weeks like that, and I'm back to myself again, and with the person it happened with, it doesn't happen again. Why does it happen? Well, that's a really long story that doesn't need to be told. Everyone has things in their past that cause them to behave certain ways - most of the time, we don't even realize we are doing it. I realize it, and I'm working on it.

I have been fortunate to have people who have been willing to be patient with me during my dork phase. These are the people I truly treasure - because they were willing to see past the awkward me and give me the space and support I needed to find my feet again so they could get to the real me.

I spent a large part of my life feeling the need to always be perfect.  I've come to realize that I'm not - that sometimes I am a dork, and that's okay. Do I hope that the journey to Ironman helps me get over it? Absolutely! But until then, I will continue to appreciate those who either don't mind or don't see my little phase. It's not who I really am, just a leftover from who I was. It's kind of like your appendix - there was a use for it once upon a time, but now it's just annoying when it gets inflamed.

54 days to the Half, but who's counting???

Couples Therapy

Relationships are funny - even if you take care of them and nurture them, they can fall into these periods where nothing seems to go right. Then you have to make a decision: is what you have invested in the relationship worth saving, or is it time to just walk away?

Recently, my bike Vin and I have been in desperate need of therapy.  You would think after being together so long, we would have this communication thing down pat.  I really think the trouble began when I went to the open water swim and rode my friend's tri bike instead of her.  She had to wait in the hot car, and I'm fairly sure she wasn't too pleased when she saw how happy I was after riding the other bike.  Girls and jealousy...

As I wrote in an earlier post, the Mcallen ride was a disaster, and my last two outings after that had been cut short by spectacular blowouts. The first set I understood, after all, the tires were old.  The second and third sets, well, let's just say I think Vin was trying to tell me something.  I really wish she would have just come out and said it though.  Golly, with how much girls love to talk, you would think she could have just TOLD me!

Thankfully, I think I have been forgiven.  I got out today and rode 25 miles flat free, and with good average speeds. Whatever issues we were having, I think the worst of it has passed.  Good timing too, with less than eight weeks to the Half, this really isn't the time for a communication breakdown.

I'm being very careful with what I say - I don't think it's the right time to tell her that I intend on riding a borrowed bike for the Half.  As long as I keep the two of them apart, she'll never know.  Do I feel a little guilty?  Well, yeah.  But Vin's getting old and maybe the Olympic distances are a good length for her. Have to show her the proper love and respect by treating her well in her old age. She's been good to me.

I can't believe the Half is almost here.  It seemed like yesterday it was March and I was signing up.  Being able to share this race with so many other first timers will make it very special - especially with Esmeralda.  That is one fierce lady, and I am honored to share the course with her.  Just hope she doesn't beat me by too much, or at least waits for me at the finish line.

For all of you who are joining me in Austin - 8 weeks to go! Hope your training is going well, and see you at the starting line! :)

The Ten Second Rule

At the recent open water swim, we had a rather large crowd of newbies.  It was awesome to see so many people taking an interest in triathlons.  My friend Maggie did her first OWS, and she was a beast!

After the swim, I got to talking to two ladies and I was asked what they could do to get rid of the fear they had when they first started swimming. I may not be the best person to ask, because despite the fact a five foot bull shark was caught on the gulf side the day before, open water just doesn't scare me.  But there are plenty of other things that do.

I am terrified of straight drop roller coasters.  Love the twisty ones, can ride them all day.  But the straight drop ones - you generally have to offer me large sums of money to get me on one. So, relating their question to that situation, I said to them ``I let it take me.``

Both heads snapped around, and they looked at me shocked. Okay, not the answer they were looking for, but this is what I've learned:

Since fear is what we create, and it`s all in our head, then the more we try to fight it the bigger it`s going to become.  So for me, I let the panic set it. Then I count to ten.  During those ten seconds, I keep moving if I need to, stand still if I don't.  Once I get to ten, I imagine the fear slipping away from me.  I may still be afraid or nervous, but the panic part will be gone.  And then I go and do what I was afraid of, including straight drop roller coasters (but only because Hannah asked me to).Turns out that the straight drop only lasted four seconds, so I had six seconds to spare.

Just in case I get asked that question again, anyone got any other advice to conquer fear?