And Now For Something A Little Different

Most of these blog posts are about triathlon, either how train, how to race, or how I did (or didn't) race. But there's more to life than swimming, biking, and running, right? (Rhetorical question.)

A few weeks ago, I traveled to Rhode Island to attend a training seminar in human-centered design at RISD. It was a fantastic opportunity to meet really impressive designers and public policy wonks...and also see some wildlife.

See what I mean. 

Teaser: for the actual animal photos, click the link above. 

Trolls, Witches, and Ancient Ice

Warning: this is not a race report. It's not even about triathlon. But it's short, and has pretty pictures.

What to do after competing in the ITU Long Distance World Championships in Sweden? Bid adieu to my bike and Elliott (who had to return to work) and travel with my parents to the land of fjords, mountains, and $12 Big Macs, of course! Prior to this trip, I had been to Sweden a few times already--first while an exchange student to Finland, and again to visit a Swedish friend I met in Switzerland (yes, those are two different countries). But Norway was new ground. (Fun side note: I had first attempted to visit Norway in 2000 but fell asleep on the train from Stockholm, missed the connection, and woke up in Göteborg. Oops.)

Making friends with the locals.

First stop: Oslo, where we explored the city on the Osloian (Osloeese?) version of Capital Bikeshare, City Bikes. I also got to catch up with my AFS exchange student mentee, who is now a producer for a Norwegian reality TV show; I supplied her with some potential plotlines, so if you ever catch an episode that involves Norwegian D-list celebrities pre-gaming with Jon and/or Kate + 8, you're welcome.

Shall we start drafting our Emmy acceptance speech?

From there, we headed north and west for what seemed like forever (European countries are small, right?) but was really just a blip on the map. Destination: Solvorn, on the Lustrafjorden. Haven't heard of it? Neither have a lot of Norwegians, but it's a beautiful, peaceful, not heavily touristed place.

Definitely not in DC any more. 

It was also a great jumping off point for a kayak-hike-trek day trip to the Nigardsbreen glacier, described as "appropriate for ages 10 and up." When the guide started handing out ice axes and created a rope line (in case someone fell into a crevasse), I realized this was a bit more hard core than anticipated. Major props to my 60-something parents for being up to the challenge! (Though my mom will be quick to point out she was also misled by the "fun for all ages" description.)

ICE.

Small town Norway has some advantages: quiet forests, amazing views, friendly locals, and few tourists. It does, however, require some attention to detail. To wit, the only restaurant in Solvorn is open until 9:00...but stops taking orders at 8:00. And the ferry across the fjord to the Stave church at Ornes starts at 7:00...but the church doesn't accept visitors until 10:00.

Worth the wait.

For the drive to Bergen, we could either take the longest tunnel in the world or the much longer-only open in summer-don't look down route. We opted for the latter, which still had snow banks as high as the car. In June.

And this is when my mom pelted me with a snowball. 

It also had the weirdest rest station attraction I have ever seen. Plus side: now I can say I saw a bear in Norway.

It was in a cave. Since I guess that makes sense.

Eventually, we left the mountains and entered the bustling metropolis of Bergen. It was strange to see other tourists again. Plus, lots of cod. You see, back in the day, Bergen was a German trade town and cod was king. (Seriously.)

Its fish-focused history lives on as aprons and tablecloths.

While many people approach Bergen from the sea, we decided to take the funicular up the hill to get an bird's eye view. Two key takeaways: 1) Bergen is known for being cloudy and rainy, which is not ideal for said bird's eye view. 2) Birds are not the only creatures flying around the city.

If you insist.

All in all, a fun adventure!

In the Land of IKEA

Continuing my trend of "retro" blog postings (8+ weeks behind), here's what went down in Motala-town...

Pre-game

Elliott, my parents, and I arrived in Stockholm a few days early and stayed in an apartment my parents had arranged via house swap. Not only was this place free, we got to pretend to be yuppie Swedes in the Södermalm district, riding bikes everywhere, shopping at corner grocery stores, and drinking the local beer. (Full disclosure: we got lost pretty much every bike trip, and it took me two weeks to realize that the beer sold in grocery stores has low ABV and one must go to the "systembolaget" for the real stuff.) 

Here's looking at you, Stockholm!

They always say that you learn as much about yourself as the destination when you travel. I learned that I dislike museums. Especially when the entire museum is about a ship. That sank. Within 15 minutes of departing the harbor. I did learn, however, that I like free wifi, so I was able to entertain myself.

Back at the ship museum.

Making friends with the locals.

After a few days, Elliott and I met up with the Team USA group for a city tour and bus ride to Motala. Much to my joy, the city tour included *another* tour of the ship museum, so I kept myself busy doing other things.   Normally I avoid traveling with a group, but the Team USA package was pretty useful. They reserved several floors of a hotel on the main town square of Motala, just a five minute talk to the transition area. The USA Triathlon team also included a mechanic, doctor, masseuse, coach, and a few other people who helped handle logistics. Each of them was so incredibly helpful as all of the fun pre-race mini-crises unfolded: my bike didn't want to be rebuilt, my foot had a gnarly blister, the long plane ride had done a number on my back, and let's not forget the daily drama of whether the swim would be canceled due to the cold. Cue the ominous music. 

They must have known I'd be pushing the WATTS.

But first: a little background. Why was I in Sweden? What makes this race so special? And why on earth was it in Motala? As I've mentioned before on this blog, I won my age group at the long distance national championships in 2014, earning me a spot on Team USA in 2015. Unlike the Ironman world championships, people at this race compete as part of their national team. Therefore, rather than wearing my usual LUNA Chix kit, I had a Team USA onesie with TOBIN on the stomach and butt and my awesome sponsors, LUNA bars and Rose Physical Therapy, displayed on the front. As for why it was held in Motala, here's a fun bit of trivia for you: Motala is host to the world's largest bike ride each year, with over 23,000 participants. It also has a (very cold) lake and scenic paths for running. 

Thankfully, Sweden is not known as an earthquake hotspot.

Let the games begin!    

First off: All the athletes got to walk through the town square as a parade of nations, including flag bearers, cheering crowds, and an opening ceremony. It was an incredible experience, and felt like an "It Gets Better" ad to my 15 year old self, churning out the laps in the pool. 

I'm in a parade!

Race day was unusual. First of all, it wasn't pouring, for a change. Also, the race didn't start until 9, so I actually had a leisurely start to the morning. So strange. The official word was that the water was very, very cold--too cold for the planned 4000 meter swim--but warm enough to have us hop in the lake for 1500m before climbing onto our bikes for 120 km (approximately 74 miles). The swim is my strongest leg of the race, so I was bummed to miss the extra distance...until I waded into the water and lost track of my toes. Well then. The rest of the swim was pretty rough and aggressive, but I remembered all the times I shared a pool with the Aqua Zumba class and felt right at home (minus the Rhianna music). I exited the water, plodded on frozen feet through transition, hopped on my bike, and saw...

Stars, stripes, and a smile!

Yes, those cheering folks are my mom and Elliott, but they weren't the surprise. Sneaky sherpas, they had arranged for not one, not two, but THREE banners to greet me, one at each loop of the course. It was such a thrill, and the #sponsorlove gave me an extra boost up the hill. (Pics of the other two banners are at the bottom of this post.) The bike leg was 120 KM, nearly 75 miles. It was scenic, well marked, well paved, and well winded (how's that for spin?). Let's just say I was very glad to be done with that ride, especially after dropping a chain on the second loop. (Fun fact: LUNA bars still taste good when one's fingers are covered in bike lube. Mmm bike lube!)


The run comprised 3 x 10 KM loops, about half of which was on wooded trails. The scenery was beautiful, the aid stations frequent, the weather perfect...I think I would have absolutely loved the run if I weren't already so tired. At this point, I also started having some GI issues and faced a trade off: slow down, keep the gut happy, and finish, or run at the planned pace and risk exposing some bodily fluids and DNFing. I decided that I had already come so far, both traveling to the race and nearly 80 miles that day, so I played it safe. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Finally, the finish line. I looked behind me (coast = clear), grabbed an American flag from my mom and another flag from the Team USA coach, and ran through the finish chute, a huge grin on my face...until two other women in my age group sprinted past me. Sigh.  

So happy to be almost done!

Still, it was a good experience overall. 17th in the world in my age group isn't what I was hoping to do that day, but better than the 101st I placed at Ironman 70.3 worlds last year. I certainly wouldn't have been able to participate at all if it weren't from the support of Elliott, my family, friends, and fantastic sponsors, LUNA bars and Rose Physical Therapy. Onward!

And now, a few more gratuitous photos:

Total lie, but appreciated.

Rose Physical Therapy brings DC spirit to Sweden!

One of my competitors. I think he's still out there...

"Sir Taste-a-Lot"--alas, not really.

Picture 120 KM of more or less this view. There are worse ways to spend a day.

Perfect Is the Enemy of Good

Since my last update in February, I have written some fantastic blog posts: how to ride the bike trainer at 5 AM on a dark Tuesday and not feel too sorry for yourself, great running routes in DC, how to [not] race a half ironman in April when the weather is 50 degrees warmer than you've been training in, etc. But I wrote them all in my head and never had the proper time or energy to capture them here. So rather than having a series of awesome blog posts to amuse and inspire my worldwide fan base extended network parents, I have a blank space and a lot of guilt. (No golf clubs were harmed, however.) 

So let's try something different: a quickie. Here's the 90 second version of the past few months. 

• Winter. Yikes. Thank goodness for Trainer Road + Wahoo Kickr (create a workout ahead of time and the trainer adjusts the resistance so I just pedal mindlessly until my legs fall off). Calculating 95% of FTP for 1:30 intervals is just not going to happen at 5 AM. Also, I'm lucky enough to have similarly crazy friends who are also training at that hour, so we entertained each other by texting animated animal gifs and recommending shows on Netflix. 

Welcome to my winter.

• DC Rock 'N Roll Half Marathon: Why did I ever think this was a good idea? 40s. Pouring. My timing chip fell off so I somehow did a 5k in 45 minutes but a 10k in 25 (total). Careful, runners--there seems to be a space-time vortex somewhere on the Rock Creek Parkway. On the plus side, a hot shower after suffering mild hypothermia is pretty incredible. 
• Spring #1: I got to escape DC's never-ending winter at the end of March for the LUNA Chix Summit in Berkeley. For three days, the entire extended LUNA family--from professional triathletes and mountain bikers to sponsored amateurs (including myself) to the running/cycling/triathlon clubs across the country--all gathered near the Clif bar headquarters to eat, run, bike, learn...and eat some more. I think I came home with at least 50 Clif and LUNA bars stuffed into my suitcase. That weekend deserves its own post so stay tuned.

I made some in California.

• Summer #1: DC may have still been trying to hang on to winter, but it was early April and therefore time to start my race season. In Florida. Sigh. "At least it's not Panama in February" was my spurious logic when I signed up in the fall. I think this race can best be summarized by the following numbers:
• 50: The difference in temperature, in degrees fahrenheit, between DC and Florida
• 46: The one-way distance, in miles, between Orlando (where I thought the race was/where my extended family lives) and where the race was actually located (Haines City)
• 10: The number of gears my borrowed race wheels were designed to hold
• 0: The number of gears present on the wheels when I picked them up (lesson learned: the cyclist is expected to add their own cassette to borrowed wheels)
• 882: Number of watts my power meter said I pushed on the bike course. This is incorrect.
• 0: Number of beats per minute my heart rate strap said I was expending on the bike course. This is also incorrect. 
• 60 and 4: Respectively, the number of minutes and adults required to disassemble and pack my bike after the race.
• 0: Desire I have to do that race again. 

Not pictured: all the seagrass, salt, and mud that accumulated during the race

• Spring #2: DC finally flirted with spring in May. It was nice. 

This happened.

• Summer #2: And then DC decided that sweltering heat and humidity are more fun. Yay. 

And that leads us to today, where it was "feels like 90" for my 80 minute run at 8 AM. However, I'm not long for this town or this weather. In under a week, I'll be en route to Sweden for the ITU Long Distance World Championships. 

Me dress fancy one day.

As always, thanks to my fantastic family and friends, as well as sponsors Rose Physical Therapy and LUNA Bars. 

Thanks to Florida, I now have a Rose PT temp tattoo tanline!

I'm Number..Cough Cough...One!

Ironman 70.3 World Championships, Mont Tremblant, Quebec. Where the best of the best come to duke it out over 70.3 miles of swimming, biking, and running, then make up the calorie deficit via vast quantities of poutine. Qualifying for this race was my big, hairy, audacious goal of 2014, so I was thrilled and a little nervous to be there. If you've never been to Mont Tremblant, it's kind of like a Disneyland + ski resort - costumed creatures (and in this case + a few thousand spandex-clad triathletes). The town is located next to a lake and at the foot of some ski lifts. As a result, the views are picturesque and there's even an adorable gondola between the bottom part of town (including the finish line) and some of the hotels. This also means the run course included some 25% inclines. Oh yes. How did I do? Well, if your unit of measurement is the amount of fun a person can have and quantity of joy at the finish line, then I probably won. If you're into actual numbers and placement, I was 101st in my age group. While that's slightly off the podium, if you think of all the 30-34 year old women there are IN THE WORLD, I'm pretty pleased with myself.

Probably the only time I'll take a bike on a gondola.

Keeping with the theme of fun vs. facts, rather than a traditional race report, here are some things that surprised and/or amused me. May they do the same for you:

• For some reason, I was originally placed in the women's 65-69 age group and got some really shady looks from the other women in my bike rack. ("What's my secret? Sunscreen, drinking lots of water...and actually being 35 years younger than you.")
• You know you've made it when a Japanese tourist wants to take a photo with you. In this case, however, it was my bike's water bottle setup that he cared about. 
• While there were volunteers with sharpies doing body marking, nobody actually had their age on their calf. Except me. No wonder there was no line. 
• The swim start included a Royal Air Force fighter jet flyover, though I think people enjoyed posing for photos with the Mounties more.
• The lake was eerily clear and I could see the bottom for a ways offshore. Sand...rocks...bigger rocks... SHIPWRECK! Actually, it was maybe an old dock or construction or something (I was too busy actually swimming to investigate) but it was definitely unusual.
• The level of competition was just incredible, and definitely a kick in the butt to get faster next year. I was holding the same watts as in a normal race and getting passed like I was standing still...by 50 year old women. 
• One year of college-level French is apparently enough to negotiate for a space blanket post-race. (Then again, as we know from Panama, my foreign language skills are apparently heightened by dehydration. Wish I'd known this in college.) 
• If your flight is delayed, delayed some more, and then ultimately canceled, be sure to ask for food vouchers from every employee you encounter. Bonjour, CAD $96 steak-stravaganza! 

Many thanks to my family and friends for the cheers, Elliott for sherpa-ing, Coach Kerri for getting me there (and beating me by 0:30--ouch!), and Rose PT for keeping me healthy and strong. Here's to a fun off season!

Mission Accompli

Are You Faster Than a Buggy?

In short, yes, apparently so. For my birthday this year, my friend Tess and I decided to celebrate on two wheels in Lancaster County, PA. This was version 2.0 of a similar trip in 2006, when we happened to be biking through Tour de France "winner" Floyd Landis's home town the day after the doping allegations surfaced and all the news crews were clamoring to take action shots of "devastated cyclists." (We actually hadn't checked the news that morning, had no idea what was going on, and probably smiled and waved like dorks.)

Why Lancaster County? Our requirements were simple: easy drive from DC. Open roads for cycling. Some hills, but not too many. Good beer. As it turns out, Bicycling Magazine had an article about the top ride in every state and the Maryland and Pennsylvania routes were relatively close together. Weekend made.

Maryland boasted the Covered Bridges tour, which supposedly included three covered bridges. We found one, maybe two, and wound up hitting the first one twice because we got lost. Yay GPS! We also rode past a picturesque college that looked like a monastery from afar and, fittingly, offered classes in quilting. (Unfortunately, our schedules did not allow for such a detour. Next time...)

Actual covered bridge. 

We then drove to Lancaster via Gettysburg ("home of factory outlets...and some history, if you're into that type of thing") and a bunch of small towns out-boasting each other on their antiquing creds. If there had been more room in the car, I might have given myself an old wagon wheel as a birthday gift. Since who doesn't need a wagon wheel (singular)?! While Lancaster is traditionally a farming community with a large Amish/Mennonite population, a new crowd has sprouted recently: yuppies. We stayed at a boutique art-themed hotel that was way cooler than we were (hint: bikes and expensive hallway sculptures don't mix) and had dinner at a microbrewery. A flight of beers = carbo loading, right?

Why you can't take me anywhere.

The route on Sunday was called the Ice Cream Lovers' Ride. Awesome, right? Hot summer day, small farms, winding roads, local ice cream. Just one catch: everything is closed on Sundays. So it was more like the "get lost in the corn fields again" ride. But really, with signage like this, can you blame us?

This is why we packed a map.

All in all, a fun weekend. Special shout out to Tess for being willing to chase down some buggies with me, as well as Rose PT for keeping me riding pain free. (Strong glutes = happy cyclist)

Old News is Good News

Hi, there. It's been awhile. As you may have heard, things have been busy for me since I last wrote. Where to begin?

USAT Long Course National Championships

Yes, that's me in the middle.

Well, there was this.


I had signed up for this race with the goal of seeing how close I could come to qualifying for Team USA -- more likely, a realistic goal for next year. However, my mentor, Terra, warned me not to psyche myself out and just go for it. Good advice. And go for it, I did! According to my power meter, I averaged over 500 watts on the 56 mile bike leg. (For those of you who haven't talked watts since high school physics, someone of my weight pushing 500 W over 56 miles would appear on a box of Wheaties, her massive thighs wrapping around the edges.)

Look out, Lance!

But as I learned from Maritime, data doesn't really matter. Actually, I didn't really learn my lesson then. I learned my lesson at this race, when my watch showed I crossed the finish line in 4:59:58 and my official time was 5:00:03. Note to self: ignore the gadgets and push until the end.

So what's next? As a member of Team USA, I will represent the United States at the ITU Long Course Triathlon World Championships in Motala, Sweden, in June 2015. Fancy. I'll post more details to this blog when I learn them, but in the mean time, it's time to practice some Svenska, ja tak!

Coming Up Roses

Exciting news! Here's a hint: 

I spy, on the upper thigh...

I'm partnering with  Rose Physical Therapy! Rose PT is a local practice focusing on athletes. Thanks to them, I'll be able to train and race harder, stronger, faster, and injury free.  Citius. Altius. Fortius. Gluteus Maximus!

Getting Back to My Roots

Believe it or not, I sometimes do things that involve neither swimming, nor biking, nor running, like spend a week in Alaska for my cousin's wedding. My family has lived in Alaska since the 1800s and I like to show my local cred by oh so casually mentioning to folks that I was born in Fairbanks...and then promptly lose said cred by thinking the North Slope is a ski resort. Sigh. But the wedding was a blast, my family awesome as always, and the scenery did not disappoint. But don't take my word for it...

Not the North Slope

There be moose! (Probably, somewhere, if you zoom)

Best. Treadmill. Ever.

Our rental car. Definitely not blending in.

Photo taken quickly to escape mosquitoes. And bears.

So You Think You Can Climb

Even though I've lived in DC for over 10 years (!), I still consider myself a west coaster at heart. I prefer In & Out to Five Guys, natural beaches to boardwalks, and will never get used to watching the Superbowl at night. This also means I'm a mountain snob. For example:

These are mountains.

These are not.

Do I appreciate the beauty of Shenandoah National Park? Of course. But there are trees at the top, and I don't have to backpack to get there.

So when I heard about the "Mountains of Misery" century ride in southwestern Virginia,  I figured it would be a fun training day. How miserable could some hills be? Also, when the ride's registration opened in February, Memorial Day weekend seemed far enough on the horizon that I was extra confident in my ability to defy gravity.

As training progressed, I actually did start to get better at hills. How?

• Step 1: Move into a house at the top of a hill. Decide you want to go home occasionally.
• Step 2: Tell yourself that you're good at hills. Suddenly, training rides are an opportunity to attack some climbs (woo!) rather than grumpily mash some gears. 
• Step 3: Reconsider gearing. For Ironman Tahoe, I upgraded to a 10-32 cassette with special derailleur. This means I have some extra easy gears when the climbing gets steep. 
• Step 4: Learn how to descend, preferably without melting a wheel (yes, that happened). Some cyclists, such as Elliott and Cat, can naturally whiz down a mountain without a care in the world. I, on the other hand, am afraid of plummeting to my death. The biggest ah-ha moments in my descend-ucation:
• Count out loud. To scrub speed, pull on the brakes for a count of four, then release for four. Counting not only distracts you from the whole careening off a cliff thing, but also no other cyclist will want to be near Count Brakeula and will give you a wide berth.
• The harder you push, the more stable you'll feel. On a turn, push down HARD with the outside leg; when descending straight down, keep your feet at 9:00 and 3:00 on the pedals and push your knees into the top bar. Voila, stability!
• Hands and feet work together. As you push down with your outside leg, also push down on the handlebar with your outside hand. This will get you around the corner safely and cleanly. Think of the hokie pokie if that helps.
• Look where you want to go...with all three eyes. #3 is your bellybutton. I challenge you to think about your bellybutton on a descent and not crack a smile. 

Thinking about my belly button.

So, how did it go? It was definitely not the Seagull Century, where you can stay in one gear the whole time. In fact, I think I used all of my gears today. But the one constant was the smile plastered on my face. Such a fun ride! Beautiful scenery, well marked course, (mostly) good roads, enthusiastic volunteers... oh, and a four mile uphill finish with 12-16% incline. To boot, I got to hang out with my awesome coach, Kerri, and some Bike Rack Racing teammates at the top.

Optical illusion: We are actually the same height; the hill is just that steep!

Am I reformed mountain snob? Let's just say I appreciate the fact that the east coast offers plenty of challenging cycling that does not require packing an oxygen tank. But the moment United starts offering a direct flight from DC to Tahoe, you'll know where to find me!

Where you can find me now.

As always, huge shout-outs to my support crew: Elliott, my family, DC Tri and Bike Rack teammates, and Rose PT for keeping me injury free!

Working Hard in the Big Easy

So read my out of office reply at work. This trip was my first time in New Orleans, or anywhere in the South other than Florida (and some folks will say that doesn't count outside the Panhandle). I had chosen this race last fall as part of my master plan to qualify for the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Mont Tremblant, Canada. Yes, I actually wrote that sentence. For those of you who have known me a long time (hi, Mom!), you understand that this is what we call a "stretch goal." I'm the girl who struggled with tee-ball in elementary school, and was so far behind the pack in middle school cross country races, she got lost. (Ever wonder why I never mention that I tried cross country for a few weeks in middle school?) Even with swimming, I trained up to 20 hours a week in high school but never qualified for nationals. Or zones. Or regionals. So when I told my coach last fall that I'd like to try to qualify for Worlds, I was shocked when she said, "Ok, let's do it!" She must not know me very well, but here goes nothing... 


For my readers who are not triathlon-obsessed (hi again, Mom!), there are actually several world championships each year. The most iconic (and televised) one is the Ironman World Championships at Kona, Hawaii. This is for the full iron (140.6 mile) distance, sponsored by the World Triathlon Corporation, aka Ironman. There's also an Ironman 70.3 (half iron distance) championship, which was held in Vegas for several years but is now moving around annually -- Quebec in 2014, Austria in 2015, etc. Between 1-3 men and women of each age group qualify per Ironman 140.6 or 70.3 race, regardless of nationality. There are also world championships for non Ironman-branded events, in which athletes represent their countries, (amateur) Olympics-style, ranging from sprint to international to half iron distances. (I'll be competing for a spot on Team USA this June - stay tuned.)


So this takes us to New Orleans, April 11, 2014. Elliott was busy leading spring break rowing camp so I traveled solo, bike case in tow. I think the cab driver from the airport thought I was nuts. "I'm here to race in the half Ironman on Sunday... It's a triathlon... You know, swim, bike, run? Like, a race? A marathon but actually more total miles...? No, they don't pay me to do this; I pay them... Um, nevermind." For those of you considering this race, I have two pieces of advice: 1) Rent a car 2) Stay at the Hampton Inn Garden District. Free parking, gorgeous neighborhood, quiet streets, two blocks from a local version of Whole Foods, delicious breakfast, pool that is cold enough to be wetsuit legal and cloudy enough to practice sighting, free wifi, etc. This was my first solo out of town race, so I had to assemble my bike by myself. Success! Well, almost. When I stepped back and admired my handiwork, I noticed an extra washer on the table. Hmmm now where was that supposed to go?

 And for my next trick, I'll make my bike hover in midair!

While I had traveled to NOLA solo, I wasn't totally alone -- several Team HPB athletes whom I'd met at Smashcamp in February were also doing the race. Hooray, familiar faces! And hooray, extra space in a rental car so I can take my bike to a mechanic! (Thank you, Marc!!) Finally, I was ready to ride and excited for the day.


However, race morning was bittersweet. A group of triathletes from Atlanta was hit by a car while test riding the course. One athlete was killed and another seriously injured. I reminded myself that no matter what happened to me that day -- flat tire, blisters, or nausea -- I was lucky to still be alive and racing.


Swim: Yum, diesel!


We swam in the (in)famous Lake Pontchartrain, or more specifically, in a harbor in the (in)famous Lake Pontchartrain. The harbor swim was necessary because the main lake has a tendency to become violent. The harbor, however, has a tendency to become gross. One of the athletes who had done the race last year said she looked like she was sporting a beard in her race photos, thanks to all the silt and gunk from the lake. Awesome. To fit a 1.2 mile swim within a harbor, we wound up jumping off the dock in groups of 7-10 ("time trial start") and then swimming in a crazy M shaped pattern. The smaller start group meant it was hard to find someone to mooch draft off, but I did get to turn all kinds of tricks.

Bike: Hello, wind!

Before the race began, the announcer said that it was our lucky day -- no winds. Now, either the situation changed or he was just being mean because it was definitely windy out there. This is why I love my power meter; as long as I kept my watts in the right range, I was fine. Sometimes that meant 15 mph. Sometimes, 35. (That part was fun.) The course was mostly flat, except for a few overpasses, going past a deserted amusement park (creepy), bayou (no gators, sadly), and memorial for the Atlanta triathlete (heartbreaking). To keep myself occupied, I dedicated five mile stretches to my family, friends, colleagues, teammates, and replayed some random words of encouragement I've received over the years. (A favorite: "Pretend everyone you're passing is wearing an ascot!") I think these events are an exercise in mental endurance as well as physical.

Run: Well fine, then.

I was feeling pretty good by the end of the bike. I'm usually toward the front of the pack after the swim and had only been passed by one person in my age group on the bike. So either I was in second or there were some speedy swimmers who stayed ahead of me on the bike. The first few miles of the run felt pretty good. And then the sun came out. No shade, just miles and miles of flat concrete ahead of me. I started to get the niggling sensation in my stomach that I had ignored in Panama and wound up in the medical tent. I willed it to go away, and it did--if I slowed down. It was this cruel compromise with my stomach and heart -- stay at an 8:30/mile pace or slower, and I felt fine. Venture south of there, and my heart rate would spike, along with the urge to puke. I really didn't want to return to the med tent (after all, the coke they serve has high fructose corn syrup!), so I slowed down and kept going. A girl in my age group passed me around mile 8. Nooo... must...catch... burp....ok then. At mile 11, I decided I could suffer through to the finish and picked up my speed a bit, but not enough to catch her. Oh well, I finished with a smile on my face, which is my #1 goal for any race.

It took about 20 minutes for me to get my medal (handed out by pro winner Andy Potts--so classy), some food, and some beer(s). I finally staggered wandered over to the bag check area so I could get my backpack and cell phone. So many text messages! Including one with a screenshot of the results page, showing I'd placed third in my age group!!!! I jumped up and down, then realized that was a terrible idea, and sat down to call Elliott and my parents instead. But there was still an unknown -- if there are only one or two Worlds spots available for my age group, what happens if the first and second place finishers claim them? This is what happened in Panama -- I placed third but since the top two took the spots, nothing "rolled down" to me. I nervously waited until the award ceremony -- the deadline for the first and second place finishers to claim their spots.

If you ever race an Ironman-branded event, it's worth sticking around for roll-down. First of all, it's really fun to watch. Second of all, you might wind up with a ticket to Worlds. The announcer will go through each age group and say how many spots are available. If one or more spots are unclaimed, the announcer reads down the list, giving each athlete about five seconds to come forward, Price is Right style, and claim the ticket. Sometimes it doesn't roll down at all (ahem, Panama). Sometimes, it rolls deep. Like today. "Women, 30-34. Two spots, zero taken. First rolldown spot goes to #3, Katherine Tobin." To say that I "informed the announcer that I'd be interested in claiming the spot" is a bit of an understatement. I was standing about 10 feet from him, with some friends from camp, screaming and jumping up a storm and rushing up to the front to high five the announcer, the race director, and anyone else who would let me. To make things even better, two other people I know from DC also got rolldown spots. Party in Quebec!

Many, many thanks to Elliott (of course!), my family, Coach Kerri, DC Tri Club teammates, colleagues, and friends. You like tolerate me even though I'm usually sweaty and/or hangry. Here's to the next adventure!