This sums it up nicely

If you see me in this video, let me know. I've looked hard, but I don't think I make any cameos.

Race with gratitude and joy - Ironman Arizona 2011 race report

Confession: I stole "race with gratitude and joy" from Skip Slade. I love the phrase, and to be honest, it got me through my day. Thanks Skip!

I wasn't really sure what to expect come race day. I had imagined it 100 times over and over in my mind. Each time was slightly different, but all ended with the same glorious finish. Fingers crossed that my day played out like I had imagined.

My alarm rang at 3:30 AM, although I had been watching the minutes tick by starting at 3:20 AM. Kevin groaned and I tried not to make too much noise as I puttered around the room. I made my way to the kitchen. I knew I had to eat something (I was planning on exercising for 17 hours straight). I should have given this more thought before today, but I went with the English muffin with peanut butter and jelly and coffee. I know, people cringe at the word coffee before exercise, but that's what I'm use to - so I stuck with it. I anxiously puttered around the house some more waiting for everyone else to wake up and hoping my bowels would get things in order so I didn't have to use the port-a-potty at the race site (no such luck). Finally I put on my race gear, applied Body Glide to all the right places, and inserted iPod ear buds. 4:45 AM - Let's do this.

Mom, Dad, Kevin, Michaelene, and I piled into the "big-ass" truck. Funny, it's not so "big-ass" when you have 5 people riding in it. The whole ride I was waiting for my stomach to start doing back handsprings, but I remained surprisingly calm. Weird. We arrived at the venue, parked in athlete parking, and joined the herds of athletes headed down to the transition area. My ear buds were blasting Lady Gaga (of course. Refer to post #2). I even found myself dancing around. Had either my high school or college swim coach been there they would tell me to stop jumping around and rest my legs. But, alas, they were not - so I danced.

I parted ways with my support crew for a bit when I went to drop off my special needs bags, add a few things to my bike and run bags, and get my bike all set. I found Team Jen again and hung out with them for a little while longer. I hugged my crew, kissed my husband, and told my mom not to worry (although I knew she was going to be worried until I finally crossed that finish line). I made my way back into the herd of athletes and although I was surrounded by about 2,500 others I felt surprisingly alone as I put my wetsuit on (wedgie tight). The girl next to me started talking to me. Asked where I was from, was this my first Ironman, etc. I told her it was my first and then I started to get nervous. Kind of like, "Oh shit, you actually have to do this now." She recommended I put body glide all over my neck or else the wetsuit would tear up my skin. THANK YOU girl in transition, I think she saved me from a week of torture.

Swim 2.4 miles:

We made our way to the swim start. They herded all 2,500 athletes into the Tempe Town Lake. As I jumped in I thought "Well, no turning back now." Then I thought that the 61 degree water seemed warmer than I remembered from yesterday's practice swim. Nonetheless, I proceeded to pee in my wetsuit for a little extra warmth. Delightful. I then made my way to the swim start. I've read others triathlon blogs and I always hear people say that you have to enjoy the day, take it all in. So I did. I stopped and waved at he mass of people on the bridges above us. I saw my family and friends and waved frantically, but they didn't see me (come on, I was the girl in the black wetsuit and pink swim cap with goggles on, geesh). I started to see the sun begin to rise. 7:04 AM was projected sun rise. Right on time.

Mike Reilly said, "Go" so I went. I entered the washing machine of flailing arms and legs. It was chaotic. The whole start I was very thankful that I was a strong swimmer because I could see how this would be terrifying for some people. I got knocked in the face a few times and I probably knocked others in the face. Sorry if I did that to you. Eventually, the crowd thinned out a bit. My goal was to stay calm and controlled and kick very little to save my leg energy. I made it to the turn around in about 32 minutes, which I calculated to be right on schedule. I had to deal with a few people drafting off of me. I also had to deal with some guy using my leg to propel himself forward. After the 3rd time he tried this my knee somehow found its way into his hip. Oops. After about an hour I was ready to be done. I was starting to really notice the cold. I reached for the stairs, scrambled up and out of the water, used the infamous wetsuit strippers to get that thing off of me, and headed through transition. 1 down, 3 to go.

Transition 1:

Now is the time I am going to give a shout out to all of the AWESOME volunteers out there! As I ran (jogged) into the changing tent with my bag o' stuff, a very nice volunteer by the name of Amy escorted me to a chair and asked if she could help me. I said, "sure" not really knowing what her help would consist of. But she proceeded to dry my feet (!), put my socks on my feet (!), remind me to zip up my bike jersey (that would have been otherwise embarrassing), and helped me with sunscreen. I felt pampered in that I'm-doing-an-Ironman kind of way. I had everything I thought I would need and I left the tent in search of my bike. As I ran through the bike racks I realized that there were still a lot of bikes left in there so I must have made good time on my swim. As I headed out of transition I saw Team Jen and gave them a big toothy grin. I was off.

Bike 112 miles:

As I rode away from the crowd I had a few statements I kept saying over and over to myself: "race with gratitude and joy," "just keep pedaling," and "people are going to start flying by you. Ignore them." And the people did start flying by me, in droves. But I knew it was coming and was not going to let anyone push me harder than I wanted to go or make me feel like I wasn't going to make it. On the way out it took about 10 miles or so for me to "find my biking legs." I needed my legs and my feet to warm up because they were all pretty numb from the swim. At one point I was fiddling with my Bento Box and didn't see one of the cones in front of me. THUD. Oh my god, I ran over a freakin' road cone! Who does that? (someone not paying attention, that's who). Luckily I managed to stay upright on my bike and not lose any water bottles or food. My heart was pounding from my incident. Eventually I settled back into the race and my heart rate settled.

On the way out of town and up Beeline Highway there is a steady uphill false flat as you ride toward the mountains. I took a few moments to enjoy the sun rising over the mountain side. On the way back down into town on the first lap there was a nice tailwind. I was coasting, conserving energy, and thinking that if it was like this for the other 2 laps I might actually enjoy the 112 miles.

At the turn around I was quickly looking for my family. I didn't see or hear them so I figured they went to get some breakfast. Apparently, I never turned on my GPS tracker that I rented so when they logged into the website it said I was in Florida (last race venue). They had no idea where I was on the course. They showed up a little after I had passed by and became increasingly worried that I was having bike issues - no one thought I was actually ahead of schedule. The way out on the second lap felt even better. I couldn't believe how well I was doing and that I had not even thought about butt pain yet. At 56 miles I was 10 minutes faster than my 1/2 Ironman split! And just as I thought the wind gods were with me that day I met up with a terrible headwind on the way back down. I actually was riding slower and with more effort on the down hill compared to the uphill. Bah! It was getting hard. My back started to hurt. I had to stand on my bike every 10 minutes or so to relieve the pain. I just kept telling myself to keep pedaling. At the end of Lap 2 I saw my cheering section. I gave them a big smile and wave. And when I was out of sight was when I had my first breakdown.

I had just under 40 miles left and I started to let my mind get the better of me. I was thinking about how hard this day is, how long 40 miles feels when I am out training, how this crappy wind is really slowing me down. I was not grateful, nor was I joyful. I started to cry, which made things on the road blur. I said to myself, "Self, if you hit another road cone you get Moron of the Year award." Then I told myself to pull it together. One of my good friends at work told me that when it gets really hard out there I should think about what I am going to name my second dog and my children. Well, I've already got that picked out so it occupied me for about 5 minutes. Then somehow I just pulled it together and continued on. I checked my watch and I was still on pace for what I had planned. At the top of Beeline I was very grateful to have no more laps. The other part I enjoyed was being able to see people coming up the hill as I was going down. There were still a lot of people behind me. That gave me hope.

Eventually I made it back into transition. I don't think I could have lasted much longer out there as I could barely swallow any more Powerbar Gel packs. As I slowed my bike to the dismount line the guy asked if I would like a little help. I looked at him and thought you can hold this bike steady for me as I get off or you can pick me up of the ground after, your choice. He held my bike steady and I have never been happier to have both feet firmly planted on the ground.

Transition 2:

I waddled through transition picking up my run gear. Again, there were fantastic volunteers in the tent asking if they could do anything to help. Basically I just wanted to sit and rest. I was in no hurry. I still had 8 hours to complete the marathon (SWEET!). But thankfully the volunteers did keep me moving - otherwise I would have stayed there all day long. Finally, I got up and headed out for my first ever marathon.

Run 26.2 miles:

The run, like the bike, was a 3 loop course in a figure 8. My goal was to hold 15 minute miles or faster. I did some quick math and even with 15 minute miles I was still going to finish in under 16 hours! That realization hit me and I was pumped! I knew I just had to keep moving.

The first lap of the course was crowded, some people were on their second and third laps already and I admired them immensely. The sun was still out but was starting to go down so it was getting cooler. I admired the signs in the crowd - signs of hope, signs of determination, signs of support. I think 2 of my favorites were "This parade sucks" and "If you haven't pooped yourself by now you've already won." They made me chuckle.

As I started the second lap I passed by Team Jen. I was determined to not let them see that my feet were starting to hurt and that I wished the day was over. So I started into a steady jog, gave them all a wave and headed out again. The second lap started to get to me. I could feel blisters forming on the bottom of both feet. I could also feel the muscles in my hips start to get really achy. I was following a 9 minute jog 1 minute walk pattern but adjusted it to 4 minute jog 1 minute walk. I passed some people, others passed me. Some were much older than me, some had prosthetic limbs. Impressive. I had reached 13 miles - half way. And then it struck me that I still had 13 more miles left to go.

My second real moment of darkness happened at this point. Again, I was starting to let my mind get the better of me. I couldn't think about my family because that just made me tear up and my throat felt like it was closing in on me. I took a short rest at the special needs area. As I sat there a woman ran by me with her 10 year old son. She was sobbing to her son, saying that this was the hardest thing she had ever done and she didn't know how she was going to finish. Then her son, running along side her, says, "Mom, I am so proud of you! You are doing it and you WILL finish!" Well, talk about a tear-jerker. That was enough to get me off my butt and start into a slow trot. That woman was going to finish, and dammit, so was I. But the hardest miles were the last 4. The finish line seemed so close, but so far away. I just kept thinking, "just keep moving" - even if I had to walk the rest of the way. But to be honest, with the combination of my blisters and pulled hamstring/calf it felt better to shuffle along. (Then I started singing LMFAO - everyday I'm shuffling- in my head and started thinking of some of the girls at work - that made me smile).

Finally I reached the last mile. I kept wondering what the finish line would be like. Was I going to have an emotional breakdown and cross the line sobbing or was I going to be so excited that I felt no pain while I danced my way to the line? Well, about 1/2 mile before the end it was actually pretty quiet on the course. Most of the spectators were at the finish line chute. But all of a sudden I hear my 2 best friends (Michaelene and Mike) shouting "PECKER" (my nickname) at the top of their lungs. I had a surge of energy. They were going to run with me the rest of the way! Michaelene kept telling me to "go, go, go" and I told her this was as fast as I could possibly move at this time. I rounded the corner and entered the final home stretch.

You can read all the race details you want. You can watch all the YouTube videos out there. But to truly appreciate the finish line at an Ironman you have to take the 140.6 mile journey yourself. Only the person who crosses the line knows what it took him or her to get there. No one else put in the sweat and tears during training sessions. No one else truly knows how much was sacrificed to get to this point. As I entered the finisher's chute this wave of excitement came over me when I realized I MADE IT! That was the greatest feeling I have ever had. I looked at the spectators to my right and let out a loud yell. Then the noise of the crowd seemed to surge. I gave my high 5's and tried to dance along (although I don't really think I looked very graceful). Mike Reilly was not on bathroom break (!) and he officially pronounced me an Ironman. Were the past 6-8 months of swimming, biking, and running worth those few precious moments at the finish line? You bet they were.

I'm writing this about a week after the actual race. My blisters have healed, I am no longer limping, and the pain is gone. I am left with a huge sense of accomplishment. I know that much of this was not possible without the love and support of my family and friends. I was lucky enough to have a cheering squad there with me. I am grateful that Kevin, Michaelene, Mike, and my parents were able to share in this moment with me and that many of my friends at home followed along online throughout the day. I know that when I think I can't, I can. Ironman finish line - I will see you again one day :o)

Begin at the Beginning

I'm sure you all want to know how my race went. And I will get to that. But there is so much that goes on during the days leading up to the race. These days are filled with an energy I have never experienced before.

Tuesday: I left Massachusetts and drove to my parent's house in Rochester, NY with luggage, Thanksgiving stuff, and dog in tow. I somehow managed to fit all my junk for Arizona into 1 checked bag and 1 carry-on. If you ask Kevin, this is an amazing feat as I am generally a pack rat. I rolled into town around 2 PM and enjoyed the last few hours with my dog. Since she is wonderful off leash and my parents have a pretty substantial yard she chased the tennis ball like she has never chased a tennis ball before. I figured I should try and tire her out as much as possible before I left. My sister and brother-in-law graciously offered to watch Ellie while we were away. They came over later that night to pick her up. I bawled my eyes out. (seriously, you would have thought she was dying.)

I had other visitors that night as well. One of my best friends, Michaelene, stopped over with her 2 kids to say good luck. Her son, who is 3, kept asking for Taco (referring to my husband who goes by the nickname Paco - no, he's not Spanish). She wished me well and then headed home as we had run out of bananas to feed her children. My aunt, uncle, cousins, and the new puppy (!) all stopped by too. They came bearing signs, balloons, and words of encouragement. My uncle kept telling me that I should try and angle for an upgrade to first-class on the way home after the race (I just might have to try that one).

Then everyone was gone. I headed to bed because 3:30 AM comes quickly.

Wednesday: Travel day. Flew from Rochester to Chicago, Chicago to Phoenix. Rented a "big-ass" truck so I had some way to transport my bike. Found our rental house in Mesa. Figured out the plan for the next few days.

Thursday: Mom, Dad and I loaded into the big-ass truck and headed over to Ironman Village for athlete registration. It was amazing to see so many fit, athletic people walking around in 1 place. People were decked out in the newest active wear, compression socks, and finisher's hats from previous races. (yes, I wore my Timberman hat.... when in Rome.) I must say that the whole process was very well managed. Of course there was standing around but things moved along. Once I was all checked in and bike was picked up (used Tribike Transport and HIGHLY recommend them), mom and I headed over to the merchandise tent. Heaven! I bought stuff... a lot of stuff. All of it says "Ironman Arizona 2011" on it because I want people to know I did a freakin' Ironman! While standing in line I met a few other racers. The guy in front of me was doing his first Ironman as well. His bit of advice that someone had told him, "just keep moving and the finish line will come to you." Excellent advice - I will be sure to remember that come race day. I also met a challenged athlete - she was a below the knee amputee competing in her 3rd Ironman at the age of 58. She told us that she has yet to finish an Ironman but keeps on trying. And right behind me was a pack of Tri Fury athletes. Tri Fury is one of the teams from Massachusetts - a little piece of home out here in Arizona.

Later that day I did a quick 30 minute, easy run around Tempe Town Lake on part of the actual course. I've been use to running in 40-50 degree weather so 78 was a bit of change, and I found myself breathing harder than I would have liked. At least on race day I will be running at night when it gets cooler out. After the run, my parents and I drove the bike course so I could get a feel for the road. There were other bikers out riding the course, hammering up the hill, and working too hard 3 days before the race. But to each their own. Later that night I started to lay out all of my gear in the respective piles, and Kevin flew into town. I felt a little more at ease.

Friday: I was starting to get a little antsy for the race. I kept wishing that it was on Saturday instead because I just wanted to get going. I went out for a short bike ride on Beeline Highway. I started at the turn-around point and headed downhill. The wind gods were with me because I felt AWESOME! I was flying down the hill and had an average speed of 19 mph (usually I ride at 15 mph. If race day conditions were anything like this I would welcome the bike ride.

Friday night we all went to the Athlete Welcome dinner at Tempe Arts Park. Mike Reilly got the crowd going - that man is one big ball of energy. They showed some inspirational video clips and pulled the youngest and oldest competitors onto the stage. There was a man who was doing his 64th Ironman! They also auctioned off a Ironman poster signed by all the pros. Some guy paid $8,500 for it! First of all, what does that man do? Second of all, how do I get him to give me that much for American Lab Rescue?

Saturday: Kevin decided that he wanted to go hiking while out in Arizona - so he did at 5:30 AM. While he was out I headed over to Ironman Village for the practice swim. I suited up into my brand new-to-me wetsuit and made sure it was "wedgie tight" like the guy at Fast Splits instructed me to do. With the wetsuit wedged so far up my behind I found myself waddling as I headed down to the water for the swim. They tell you that you should never use anything new on race day. So I figured my first time swimming with a wetsuit should definitely be the day before the race.

Now I know they told me the water temp was 60 degrees, but I did not realize just how cold 60 degrees actually is until you are submerged in it. HOLY S#*t! I had my trusty wetsuit on but still felt like I was going to start hyperventilating. My face hurt when I put it in the water, my toes went numb in a matter of minutes. I spent about 20 minutes in the water until I thought, "enough is enough." I climbed out, peeled the wetsuit off, racked my bike and gear bags, and headed back to the house to rest up.

Kevin called later saying that he got a flat tire while he was driving and was going to be back later than expected. While he was gone I napped. When I awoke I saw Michaelene standing in the kitchen!!! What!? Apparently Kevin never had a flat tire but went to pick Mich up at the airport instead. They had been secretly devising this surprise for the last couple of months! Best surprise...EVER! She said that she wouldn't miss watching me pee/poo myself for anything else in the world. She sure is a true friend. For dinner another good friend, Mike (lives in AZ), came over along with Liz (Kevin's friend). Mike volunteered to be on security detail at the race while he helped cheer me on. My cheering squad was coming together nicely :o)

With all of Saturday's excitement it was very hard to fall asleep.

And this is why dogs are awesome

Do you think Ellie will act like this when Kevin and I return from Arizona?

A big "Thank You!!" to Heather and Marty was taking care of our girl while we are gone :o)

For your viewing pleasure...

Just a little somethin' somethin' for motivation today. I found these laying around in various places on the Internet - mostly on www.iamtri.com. Enjoy! And if anyone would like to come help me pack I would greatly appreciate it :o)

(P.S. I have no idea who Kim Swift is but her supporters sure are funny)

I love these people (and my dog)!

10 days left, but who's counting? Again, a HUGE thank you to all who have donated to American Lab Rescue. If you look at the ChipIn link to the right I have met my goal and then some! Plus I also have some $$ waiting to be deposited into the account. It's so great when people just hand you a $20 and say, "Good luck. I think what you are doing is awesome." Well, I think that $20 is awesome. So if anyone else still wants to hand me some cash I will not refuse it :o) Also a big thank you to the woman from Connecticut who read my blog, was inspired, and decided to donate... I don't know who you are, but you are awesome!

Moving on...

Back when I swam in high school my coach use to make us do a lot of mental imagery before our races. When I first started out I thought this was a great excuse for a pre-practice nap. But then after I had imagined myself out-touching my competition, sliding through the water effortlessly, and beaming with pride as my team and I claim first place enough times, I started to believe it. As they say, "the proof is in the pudding" (whatever that means). The Fairport She-Sharks took first that year and standing on the podium holding the trophy over my head with my other co-captain was one of the best feelings I can remember.

Recently I have been working on incorporating more mental imagery into my training. Yes, I picture myself smoothly sailing through the Tempe Town Lake, pedaling down Beeline Highway with strong legs and a pain-free rear, and running as if I was on a cloud being pushed along by the wind (if only it was that easy). But the mental pictures that seem to help me the most are the ones of my family and friends. My family and friends keep me calm. They help me focus on the bigger picture of why I am traveling 140.6 miles. They remind me that no matter what happens out on the course I am loved and will always have a cheering section.

Here are just a few images of the people who have helped me get through this training - when it gets tough out there I'm thinking of you :o)

Safe Travels

I just dropped off my bike at Fast Splits in Newton, MA. I elected to have a company transport my bike out to Arizona for me (which saves a boat load of hassle in the airport and a boat load of frustration for me not having to put it back together out in AZ). But as the friendly guy at the shop wheeled my bike out of sight you would have thought I was leaving my first born at summer camp for a week. I told the bike to "be good" and gave it a loving pat before it was wheeled out of sight. I am still trying to figure out what I am going to do without it for a whole 2 weeks as I feel like my left arm was taken from me (maybe that is a slight exaggeration, but I miss her).

Funny thing about this whole scenario is that 6 months ago I could have left the bike outside in the wind and rain for days on end, and I would have cared less. Now the bike has a nice cozy spot in the house (not too cold, not too hot), is cleaned on a somewhat regular basis (and I cannot say the same for the rest of the house), and is talked to on a daily basis (yes, I talk to my bike). Riding, for what seems like endless hours, has bonded me with my bike. I wish the MJ Cruiser safe travels out West. Rest up because we have some ass kickin' to do.

Week before taper - cue the Wilson Phillips crescendo (read first, then watch)

I often sit and wish I had a soundtrack to my life. I've thought that it would be awesome to have someone following me around all day toting one of those 80's-style boom boxes to capture my every emotion. Not only would I hear it, but everyone else within ear shot would be able to hear it too. Think about it - the annoyance, the inspiration, the impromptu dance sessions you could have (yes, this has potential).

I have 1 last week of hard, kick-you-in-the-ass training before the wonderful transition into taper (decrease in mileage before the big day). Until the Ironman rolls around on Nov 20th, this week will be the longest I have trained on a bike or run...ever. Up until this point training has been tough, but I've managed to make it through. And while I'm sure I will be able to say the same thing come Monday morning, Saturday's long ride (6 hours!) and Sunday's long run (16 miles!) just seems plain old ridiculous. Even though I have been sans iPod for the majority of this journey, I am imagining what would be playing on my 80's style boom box along the way...

- Wednesday's morning swim: a little Enya as I swim with one eye closed/half asleep because it is 6 AM. Nice and mellow thinking of being in my warm bed.

- Wednesday's treadmill run (holding under 9:30 min/mile). Flo Rida is telling me that this treadmill (instead of da club) can't even handle me right now because it is AMAZING that I can actually run faster than 10 min/mile. This swimmer is now a jogger - ohhhh yeah.

- Saturday's bike on the trainer (6 hours, indoors due to possible snow!, bored out of my mind, determined to keep going): Tom Petty is telling me not to back down. I will listen. I won't back down. I will pedal ... a lot.

- Sunday's 16 mile run (finding it difficult to put 1 foot in front of the other, proud that this is the longest I have ever gone, terrified that I will have to do 10 more miles in less than a month, thoughts of wanting to stop/turn around/go home invading my head, wondering if I can hold on 1 more day until taper begins...): cue the crescendoing sounds of Wilson Phillips (please refer to video post above). I will start to run faster and lighter, I will be jamming out with an awesome air drum solo while belting out the words coming from the boom box following right behind me. I will make it through.

Everybody needs a best friend

Check out this story on the Chive. You might just cry. Or at least tear up.

http://thechive.com/2011/10/24/best-friends-4-photos/

Also, check out www.americanlabrescue.com. I have a shout out on the front page! Go me.

GOOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!

Today I'm talking about goals. And although we all LOVED the Bruins' big win in 2011, I'm not talking about that kind of goal. I'm talking about the goals that we set for ourselves, the ones that drive us forward, that make us reach a little out of our comfort zone. The goals that help us realize the potential we actually have within us.

As Ironman Arizona draws near, people are frequently asking me "Why on Earth did you sign up for this?" (in addition to, "Did your parents drop you on your head when you were younger?" followed by the statement, "...because you are crazy.") To be honest, a little over a year ago I sat down and made a list for myself. That list was all of the things that I wanted to accomplish before I turned 50. I would call it my Bucket List, but I sure hope turning 50 is not my end of days. Some of the items listed were things I knew I could easily accomplish (i.e. get a dog - easy to do when you fill out the application while your husband is at a bachelor party), things I thought I could accomplish with a little effort (i.e. take/pass the orthopedic specialist certification exam - hours of studying but I managed), and things I knew I had to work my butt off to accomplish (i.e. small little triathlon happening in 4.5 weeks). I'm proud to say after a little over a year I have 3 items checked off (but many more to come).

Now it is one thing to set a goal. But it is a completely different to actually see it through. It takes planning, financial resources (usually), determination, passion, and vision. If you can never truly see yourself meeting your goal, maybe it was set too high or it was too unrealistic. But the great thing about writing a goal is that it is not set in stone - you are allowed to modify it.

Since signing up for Ironman Arizona I have done nothing but set goals for myself. They started out simple: Register for Ironman Arizona (kind of necessary to move forward with this whole process). The goals became progressively bigger from there. I had daily goals: to wake up and get to the gym by 6 AM, to complete all training sessions, to eat better at most meals. I had weekly goals: to stay positive, to not dwell on the frustrations of training, to keep my family and friends up to date on my training (as most of them are far away). I made goals during each of my workouts, I made goals during each of my races. I made goals to keep me on track mentally and physically. I have set goal times for each of the 3 events of the day. I have set a goal time for my overall finish. I have also set a goal on how many high 5's I want to give out as I run down the finishers chute (10, I want at least 10).

The 3 most important goals I have set for myself during all of this were simple: 1) Finish Ironman Arizona in under 17 hours 2) Have fun while doing it 3) Raise money for a charity I am passionate about.

As you can see my goal of $500 was increased to $1000 for American Lab Rescue - as I said before, goals are not set in stone. So, in an attempt to get you all to help me achieve my goals, I will dedicate a mile to everyone who donates to American Lab Rescue. I have about 100 miles left to dedicate, so open your hearts and open your wallets :o). During "your" mile I will think about you non-stop. Some miles will take me longer than others, but I appreciate you all the same. Not only will you be donating to a wonderful animal rescue group but you will help give me the inspiration to continue on my 140.6 mile journey.

Thanks again to everyone who has contributed so far. Much appreciated!

140 things I love about training for Ironman Arizona

In these final weeks of hard training for Ironman Arizona I find myself trying to look at the positive side. Here are 140 things I love (well, like.... love is an awfully strong word) about training:

1) The exhausted feeling your legs have the day after a really long bike ride

2) Free to eat that extra brownie (or 2)

3) Chocolate milk after long bike or run

4) the feeling of accomplishment when I first rode 60 miles

5) the feeling of accomplishment when I first rode 76 miles

6) running in the New England fall weather

7) buying new tri gear 75% off

8) shoulder rubs from Kevin

9) Young's Chocolate Stout (it's like chocolate milk, right?)

10) soundly sleeping all night long because I am exhausted

11) Losing a few lbs (woot woot!)

12) Quality "me time" while I am swimming/biking/running

13) Knowing that every time I go out to train I am raising money for a good cause

14) No wind during a training ride or run

15) chocolate chip Cliff bars

16) Foot rubs from Kevin

17) My cool down lap around the neighborhood with Ellie

18) Spandex (I have a whole new appreciation for them)

19) New sneakers

20) Running in the rain

21) Hot shower after running in the rain

22) Pre-training oatmeal with honey

23) Frozen snickers bars

24) Knowing that I will survive 17 hours without my iPod

25) http://www.mapmyrun.com/ otherwise, I would be lost.

26) Finally being able to ride in aerobars!!

27) My bike support crew at Landry's bike shop

28) Knowing how to change a flat tire (on my bike, of course. AAA for the car)

29) Coffee after my morning swim

30) Not having to be to work until 11:30 0n Wednesdays.

31) Knowing that my ass will stop hurting when I finally get off my bike

32) The fact that my ass can now handle a 5 hour ride (the shoulders are a different story)

33) My speedometer/odometer on my bike - what did I ever do before this wonderful gadget?

34) Sunscreen!

35) Saturday night sushi dinners after long rides

36) All the supportive emails and Facebook comments

37) No training on Mondays!

38) Funfetti cake made with diet soda (don't knock it until you've tried it)

39) Running down hill

40) My running visor from Timberman

41) My Fuelbelt with a buckle instead of velcro

42) No guilt when I veg in front of the TV at night

43) Catching up on bad TV when I'm on the bike trainer

44) The fan set up in front of me when I'm on the bike trainer

45) Quiet roads on Sunday mornings

46) A lane to myself in the pool

47) 60 minute massages (Thanks Amy!!)

48) Zoning out when I run

49) http://www.mapmyride.com/

50) No rain when I bike

51) CO2 cartridges to inflate my tires

52) Biking around cranberry bogs

53) Lemon-lime Perform (weird, but I actually like it)

54) Body glide!

55) Wearing Kevin's sunglasses on my bike ride (because I'm too cheap to get new ones)

56) Flat bike course

57) Right hand turns when I am biking

58) The water tank on my bike

59) Feeling strong after a swim workout

60) Kick sets in the pool

61) new swim caps

62) Hockomock Sprint Tri

63) MY SWEET NEW BIKE

64) The red handle bars on my sweet new bike

65) Strawberry Shotblocks

66) http://www.iamtri.com/

67) all the wonderful people on iamtri Arizona 2011 who have great insight into the race

68) YouTube motivational videos

69) Pasta dinners

70) Pumpkinman 70.3 2011

71) Not requiring medical assistance after finishing Pumpkinman 70.3

72) coming home to have my dog sitting at the front door waiting for me after a run

74) Funfetti frosting (the pink kind)

75) Jamming out to "Don't Stop Believing"

76) Tuesday night Pilates class

77) Words of encouragement from my patients

78) A full physical therapy team at my finger tips everyday (although I haven't required any assistance yet)

79) Company on training rides

80) Thinking I am going to wake up sore the next morning but I don't

81) My cheering section at my races

82) a new bathing suit

83) Pool water at the perfect temperature (not too hot or too cold)

84) Lane lines that are tightened properly

85) My "I am an Ironman" playlist on my iPod

86) Visualizing crossing the finish line

87) Visualizing the moment Mike Reilly tells me I am an Ironman

88) 2 weeks vacation at Thanksgiving

89) My ponytail holder

90) My Cranberry TriFest water bottles (all of them)

91) My powder blue bike shoes

92) The padding in my bike shorts

93) Wide shoulders on roads

94) Getting lost on bike rides

95) Finding my way home on bike rides

96) New running routes

97) New biking routes

98) My homemade aid station in the driveway

99) Getting 2 compliments on my bike jersey during a race

100) The look on people's faces when I tell them I am doing an Ironman

101) The look on people's faces when I tell them what an Ironman is

102) The look on people's faces when I tell them I only have 17 hours to finish it

103) Writing my blog (hey, thanks for reading along)

104) My quote of the week

105) Learning how to properly hold my bike handles so my fingers don't go numb

106) Making travel plans to Tempe, AZ

107) Stretching

108) Not falling off my bike when I try to clip out

109) Holding under 10 min miles on the treadmill (never thought that day would come)

110) Bike gloves

111) my countdown to November 20th (although this is somewhat anxiety producing)

112) Watching the World Championships online

113) Good weather in October so I don't have to do long rides on the bike trainer

114) My understanding husband who does not get mad with the ever-growing pile of socks, bike shorts, t-shirts, and towels on the floor.

115) Salt tabs!

116) The container with a flip top I just found to hold said salt tabs

117) All the people who have donated to American Lab Rescue so far!

118) 3 pockets on my bike jersey

119) The look on my neighbor's face when, after 2 hours of running, he asks, "You're still going?"

120) Naps at work during my lunch hour

121) Getting in the best shape of my life

122) Now thinking that biking for 2 hours is a "short ride"

123) Now thinking that a 6 mile run is a "short run"

124) Doing distance workouts in the pool (My college coach would be so proud)

125) Feeling strong

126) Having more energy

127) Being less jiggly in certain places

128) Water

129) English muffins with peanut butter

130) Reading the newest edition of Triathlete magazine

131) Getting a proper bike fit

132) When people tell me I have inspired them to sign up for a half marathon (Go, Aimee, go!)

133) Cuddling with my dog after a bad training day

134) Carbo loading

135) Looking at my signed Chrissie Wellington and Johnny Kelly posters for inspiration

136) My pink Ironman watch

137) Long sleeve finisher's shirt at Pumpkinman

138) Looking for people with MDot tattoos while I'm out swimming/biking/running

139) Thinking of what type of MDot tattoo I'm going to get when I finish (that's right mom)

140) Knowing that I will be an Ironman in 5 weeks!

Keeping the faith

I'm not going to lie. It is getting much harder to stay on track with this whole Ironman training thing I've gotten myself into. Not only are the training sessions getting longer and harder (which is to be expected) but the weather is getting colder and the hours of daylight are getting shorter. All this being said, I am spending more and more hours on my bike trainer - and I AM BORED. I do use this time to catch up on crappy TV shows my husband refuses to watch with me, such as Revenge and the one about the Playboy bunnies. They are mindless shows that help me pass the time. Sometimes I think up ways to raise more money for my charity (plug for American Lab Rescue!), or I just focus on how uncomfortable I am on my bike seat.

In the recent passing of Steve Jobs I have found myself pretty impressed with this man who, until fairly recently, I knew very little about. If you check out his graduation speech to Stanford (http://youtu.be/UF8uR6Z6KLc) in 2005 it is filled with endless quotes of not giving up, doing what you love, and keeping the faith when all else seems lost. Seriously, we had to lose a guy like this!? I would love to have a mini Steve Jobs sitting on my shoulder during the Ironman. I'm pretty sure he would come up with great things to tell me to 1) make me laugh and 2) get me to the finish line.

My favorite quote from Mr. Jobs I've heard so far is, "Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith." Obviously this proverbial "brick" can mean many things to many people. His brick was cancer (or Windows). At one point in his life his brick was being fired from his very own company that he started in a garage. My point is we all have our own bricks. And they hurt. And they are all different things to different people. Just because the bricks are not the same doesn't mean they hurt any less.

Today my brick is actually a brick (bike followed by an immediate run). It hurts and it's hard. Sometimes I feel like I want to throw up and other times I feel like I am going to crap my pants. Sometimes I think, "Is this all worth it?" - the endless miles, the pain? Then I imagine crossing the finish line and being able to look back at all the events that got me to this point - the hours of bad TV logged while riding my trainer, the limping around work on Monday morning because of an awesome 70.3 race the day before, the glorious massages I treat myself to because, dammit, I'm training for an Ironman! That finish line is my iPhone. I am in no way implying that my Ironman finish will revolutionize the world, but I do hope it will help support a great animal rescue group (second plug for American Lab Rescue - click on ChipIn link to the right to donate!!).

Look kids! Big Ben. Parliment.

My lady parts hate me, but I have officially been on my longest bike ride yet! Up until today my 56 mile ride as part of the 1/2 Ironman was the longest distance I had covered. Today I sat on that damn seat for 4 hours and 30 minutes for a total of 68 miles. Go me!

The course for Ironman Arizona consists of 3 loops to total 112 miles. Besides having to ride 112 miles, the second hardest part will be getting myself mentally ready for 3 loops. Can you imagine riding 37 miles and some change only to know that when you get back to the starting line you will have to do it all again, and then a third time? My husband has never been a fan of repeating himself. If he leaves something at home and remembers it at the end of our street he refuses to turn around to get it. If I ask him a question that he has already answered he will just look at me and walk away. (Then I chase after him and poke him in the shoulder until I wear him down.) I think some of his aversion to repetition has rubbed off on me, so now I have to train my brain to love repetition.

Since the start of my training plan I have been riding loops. The loops started out fairly short but have progressively increased in distance. The good thing about riding in loops is that eventually you learn the road. Today, the bump at Mile 10 was my enemy. My first time over the bump I didn't even realize it was there, and my lady parts yelled, "Owwww! Holy Hell! What was that?" On the second loop I was futzing with my water bottle and wasn't really paying attention when, thud, and my lady parts said, "Hey moron - still hurts the second time. For the love of God, stand up!" On the third loop I was able to prepare myself in advance of the bump in the road. I stood up and my lady parts applauded.

Riding in loops also tends to make me feel like I am in the movie European Vacation with Chevy Chase. You see the same thing again, and again, and again. I noticed that it took a family about 3 hours to remove a tree stump from their front yard. Between the miles of 15 and 16 it smells like a combination of dirty diaper and skunk - the stench lingers and never seems to go away until you ride out of it. I also noticed that as the day progressed the number of squirrel carcasses multiplied. The dead squirrels that were on the road during Loop 1 became more squished each time I rode past them.

But anyway, my loops are finished (for today). If anyone is interested in keeping me company on one or some of the loops let me know. I love training partners!

If it were easy everyone would do it

8 weeks to go until Ironman Arizona. Looking for motivation where ever I can find it. These finishers truely inspire me.

Pumpkinman 70.3 Race Report: No dumping

I am finally less limpy, less sore, and ready to recap the great Pumpkinman 70.3 race of 2011. Like I said before, this was my test race to make sure all is in order as I enter into the last 2 months of Ironman Arizona training...

At 4:45 AM on Sunday morning Kevin and I piled into the car to head out to the race. We stayed at his parent's house about 45 minutes away. Who can beat free food and a free place to stay? We arrived at the race site just before 6 AM. I headed into transition to set up all of my gear. Usually during this part of the day I get a horrible feeling of nerves in the pit of my stomach. But today I just felt calm. It was strange; it was nice. Once the gear was all in order (bike shoes open and ready to go, cliff bars partially opened because I can't do 2 things at once on my bike) I made my way to the port-o-potty line, did my business, had my Sherpa (Kevin) lather me in sunscreen (the 80 SPF kind), then made my way to the swim start. Then I waited...

And waited, and waited. The fog was so heavy that the start of the swim was delayed about 45 minutes. They wouldn't let us in the water until the far buoy was visible. Safety first, kids. That was fine because it gave me more time to stretch out and talk to my sister-in-law who came to watch! Wahoo - I had a cheering section, not just a cheering person! I was also happy someone was going to keep Kevin company in the beer tent.

Finally they gave the all clear to start the race. I was in the last wave - 17 minutes behind all the others. I stepped into the water and it was surprisingly not as cold as I imagined 68 degrees to feel. I was a bit nervous because I didn't rent a wetsuit but rather swam in a speed suit - no arms, short legs, and no real warming properties. I've seen YouTube clips were people wore suits like mine in 68 degree water and had to be taken to shore because they were too cold to continue. (I silently prayed that this would not be me). My wave took off. I stayed to the outside right of the swimmers. I figured I would rather swim a little more distance than be stuck in the middle of the "washing machine" of flailing arms and legs. I stuck my face in the water and got a face full of seaweed. Gross (at least it wasn't a foot to the jaw). I made my way out of the weeds and the race was on. I wanted to remain calm on the swim and not go out too hard. I found myself catching up to the wave in front of me and even some guys from the first few waves. I was out of the water at 34 minutes.

I tried to remain calm in transition so I would remember everything I needed to. Bike jersey, check. Gels and cliff bars stuffed in the pockets of my bike jersey, check. Sunglasses, check. And I was off. First thing I remembered about 500 yards from transition - I did not re-apply my sunscreen. CRAP! This is what got me into trouble at Timberman. Lucky for me the bike course was shady.

Out on the bike I took my time for the first few miles. I was working on "getting my biking legs" and trying not to expend all of my energy. I will say this, I am a slow-ass biker. People were flying my me. "On your left," was the phrase of the day. I was starting to wonder if the entire field had finally passed me. Then around mile 15 I started to approach a girl, her right calf told me she was 28. I finally got to say, "on your left," and boy did I say it with authority. I didn't want to make her feel like I was better than her (because there are athletes out there that can make you feel like that when they go whizzing by). I was just so excited to finally be passing someone. My time had come. Then she looked at me, and I knew that look all too well. That same look was plastered across my face during the entire race at Timberman. She asked, between breaths, what mile we were on. When I told her "mile 15" she made a groaning noise and put her head down. I looked at her feet. She was wearing sneakers and had the pedals with the straps. She will learn from this experience, because it will most likely be awful for her. I wanted to tell her to stay in the moment, it will get better, one day you will do another race, you will be mentally and physically prepared for it, and you will finish with a smile. But that's a lot to say when I myself was sucking wind. So maybe she will read this post.

I will say that the volunteers were fabulous. As I approached the turn for the last 1.3 miles there were 2 women flagging and cheering. As I got closer (and their cheering became louder) I started to yell, "Get me off this bike!" and she responded, "1 mile and your off!" And then out of the depths of my lungs I let out my warrior yell that said "Suck it 56 miles - I own you!" and in response the 2 women were frantically jumping and screaming and flag waving. They made me feel like I was in 1st place. Thanks ladies at the last turn.

I clocked my bike at 3:45, 15 mph. Just as I had hoped. I told you I am a crappy biker. Off the bike, on to the run. A few high fives to my cheering section... 13.1 miles to go!

I felt awesome during the first few miles of the run. I passed a few more people. My toes were no longer numb. Things were looking up... until around mile 4. People had warned me about GI distress. Well let me tell you, it is absolutely no fun. Running with your ass cheeks clenched together is super difficult/uncomfortable. I had passed the last port-o-potty about a mile back. I had succumbed to walking because running just made matters worse. I had a choice: back track about 1 mile or dash into the woods. The woods was the most viable (and closest) option at the time. So I started staking out places I could hide. Finally, about another mile down the road I darted into the shrubs. Some lady yelled out to me, "It's OK honey, all the guys do it." Yeah, great, thanks for drawing more attention to me as I waddle into the trees. I felt MUCH better after that. As I came out of the woods I noticed a sign, "conservation land: no dumping". Oops.

For the rest of the run I took it all in - the people in agony because they neglected their nutrition, the 60 year olds flying by me shouting words of encouragement, the wonderful sunny but not-too-hot day. 13.1 miles actually flew by. I never thought I would say such a thing. I headed back home - the last mile was a whirlwind. I started thinking about all of my training, how this race is a stepping stone towards my ultimate goal, how 5 years ago I never thought something like this was possible for me. Then I started to get all choked up. My throat tightened and my eyes welled with tears. Then I told myself to stop being a pansy and save it for Arizona. I headed down the finishers shoot - high-fived the cheering section and posed for my finish line picture. 7:20, not too shabby.

Then I went to the beer tent.