Ironman training begins!

Two weeks ago, we volunteered at the finish line at IMTX. We had 6 friends racing that day and the three of us managed to catch all 6 of them. It was a SUPER cool experience and I can't wait to be on the other side of that finish line.

I could write a 20-page race report on that day from a spectator/volunteer perspective, but that's another post for another day. The short of it is that we had SO much fun and we were able to be a part of a lot of our friends' stories. 

The next morning, we headed over to the Ironman Village to sign our lives away. We are seriously SO STOKED about this. There is something truly wrong with us....

Two days ago, we went to a post-Ironman party at a friend's house to eat, swim, eat, relive IMTX16, eat, and eat. When we got in the car to go home, the button on my board shorts popped open. My eyes grew wide, my face blushed, and I looked at Doug. "Ironman training starts right now. RIGHT. NOW." I purchased these board shorts in 2002 - mind you - long before babies and long before I knew anything about my body at all. Regardless, it was enough of an eye opener to jolt me into action. Right. Now. I've been slacking since Galveston, but that nonsense ends right now.

I went out this morning with my crew for 50 miles. I snapped these quick pics before I left the house. I cannot believe I am actually putting this out there for the world to see... Whatever, man. It'll be fun to see my progress (and the bathroom progress...). HA! They are sideways and I can't fix them. Only the most determined folks will be able to really see what this is all about...

Note the dissatisfied look on my face... more veggies. Less Blue Bell.

After a delightful ride with fun friends, I think I'm back on the wagon. With school letting out on Thursday, there's no telling what's getting ready to happen to my schedule. I'm keeping my knees bent and my eyes on the prize. 326 days to glory!!

And now... for something completely different

If you page back through my blog, you'll see that baptism and theology has been an ongoing discussion in our house, as seen here and here. Last September - the 25th, to be exact - Daniel decided-decided to follow Jesus. We've talked and talked and prayed about all of this, and next Thursday is the big day - the day he'll be baptized. I've been working on what I'll say as our church allows anyone (who meets their requirements) to do the actual baptizing. When Daniel asked me to baptize him, wow. I was totally overwhelmed. It NEVER crossed my mind to say "no," but wow. What a journey it's been. I had to submit what I'll say to our pastoral team ahead of time and this is it. I just want to put it out there ahead of time to give myself some time to process all of this. Here's to hoping I can get through this without falling apart!

Daniel's story

Daniel attended Nicole’s Salvation and the Gospel class back in September. The very next night, I tucked Daniel in and said goodnight. A few minutes later, here he was, in the kitchen. He told me that he didn’t know what he needed to say or do, but he was ready to ask Jesus into his heart. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard sweeter words in all my life. I knelt with him there in the dark and led him in a prayer of salvation. He told God that he knew he was a sinner and he knew he needed Jesus to take away his sins and that he was ready to follow Him all the days of his life. A huge wave of emotion washed over me – joy, excitement, pride, relief. Then he asked me then if I’d be the one to baptize him and a whole new wave of emotion hit me – anxiety, fear, an overwhelming sense of responsibility. But the more I’ve prayed about it over the last 6 months, the more I’ve come to realize that this is exactly what Daniel went through. He was excited to ask Jesus into his heart, but he was anxious about whether the water would be hot or cold. He was proud to call himself a Christian, but he was worried that his clothes would get wet. He wasn’t sure what all of this looked like. But he found the courage to stand here on this stage and let it be known that he believes that our God saves and is alive today so I can be brave enough to stand here with him. And Daniel? I want you to look out into this church at these people who are brave enough to stand here with you and to be a part of your life with Christ. I want you to know that each and every one of these people loves you and they are here for you, not just tonight, but to support you in all that you do. If there ever comes a time when you are anxious or fearful or overwhelmed with responsibility, know that you never walk alone for God is with you and so are His people. So without further ado, it is my privilege to baptize you my brother in Christ in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

RACE REPORT – Ironman Galveston 70.3

We’ll back up a few days from go-time to set the stage. Or maybe a few months. Last June, Melissa and Nicole agreed to do this race. Together. The three of us. Melissa wrote our training plan. Nicole ran with me at least once a week and we all rode together as often as possible. These two women are waaaa-aaaaa-aaaaay out of my league. Their fitness and their strength lifts me up and inspires me, but I am in no way equipped to keep up with them in any sense of the word. Maybe someday I’ll get there, but that day is not today.

Some more history: Melissa and I have known each other since we were 8, maybe 9. Our lives have intertwined a few times in the past, crisscrossing and saying “hello” here and there. A season of softball, a year or two of our kids sharing the same preschool. This time, it’s for good. She’s stuck with me forever. What to say about Mel. She’s superhuman. In college, she played softball, soccer, AND ice hockey. And she’s beautiful, a strong Christian, a good friend, an amazing mother and wife. She’s the bees knees. And Nicole? She’s all of those things. She’ll do ANYTHING for you. She loves well and plays well and serves well and I’m ever so grateful that our paths crossed long enough to forge a friendship that I believe is here to stay. (I’ll go ahead and pat myself on the back for my ability to make friends with amazing people.)

Now that you know who I was blessed enough to race alongside, I’ll carry on. Nicole was having a hard time finding a wetsuit that didn’t grow hands and strangle her every time she jumped in the water. After four borrowed suits, she FINALLY found one that worked. The last week before the race was a smooth taper peppered with several trips to the lake to try the wetsuit out before race day. Here we are, after FINALLY having found the winner. Thank God!! This was Thursday, by the way. T-minus 66 hours until race day. Word. Nothing like cutting it close!

Friday we rode down to athlete check-in. Melissa drove the weeine van, the three of us, and two little munchkins to the island. Last year, the check-in line on Saturday was 3 hours long and I was NOT into standing around for 3 hours when I should’ve been hydrating with my feet up. We zipped through check-in (despite the fact that Nicole’s ID was on the glass on her scanner at home – oops!) and sat through the painfully long athlete briefing in the blazing hot sun. Our little people were amazing and hung in there for us for the entire meeting. We rushed back home to get bigger munchkins home from school. The Longos had us over for spaghetti again (which is fast becoming a tradition!). I consumed my weight in carbs and diligently double-fisted my Gatorade and water. I was in bed early and was trying to relax as much as possible.

My amazing husband let me sleep in on Saturday and fed me oatmeal pancakes for breakfast. More carbs – yay! I took Bruce the Bike on a little jaunt around the neighborhood to make sure everything was in working order and then headed down to the island again for mandatory bike check-in. Completely uneventful, which is ALWAYS welcome! Nicole and I walked over to the swim start and got the lay of the land. The weather man had been calling for 25 mph winds for days and we believed it. The wind was ridiculous! 

We headed home and I made my superstitious traditional meal of fetuccini alfredo with chicken (more carbs – yay). My family loaded up everything in the truck and dropped me off for a sleepover with my buddies. We were trying to shave some commute time in the morning and this saved me about 30 minutes of sleep (which was WELL worth the effort). I think I slept better knowing that there were 5 people with alarms set for 4:20 or earlier and I knew I wouldn't miss the race. This was by far the most sleep I've gotten before a big race. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I knew there were 5 alarms set or if I wasn't at home and had zero other things to stress about or what, but I'll take it. Six solid hours beats the pants off of 4 fitful hours!

Once again, we loaded up and headed to the island. We had Nick and Jonathan with us and we had LOTS to laugh and joke about. It was such a fun morning of preparations. SO much less nerve-wracking that being alone and whiling away the time. Our team was solid, excited, and ready to face the day.  For some strange reason, they had us park about 5 blocks from Moody Gardens, which sucked. My race plan did not include walking a mile in flip flops! Whatever - it was what it was. The five of us goofed off all the way to transition and harassed each other about which song would be stuck in our heads. We made our way into transition and said our goodbyes. I saw Nick once more at the swim start and Jonathan blew by me on the bike at about mile 25. That would be the last time I saw these guys on race day. I won't say anything AT ALL about Mel's lucky sweatshirt.

If you'll remember from last year, I met some amazing women on the way to the swim start. I was alone and scared and nervous and lots of things. This year? I saw SO many people one the way to the dock. Krista and Heather and Nick and Randi and I hugged and smiled and wished everyone good luck. The vibe was AMAZING. Not to say I wasn't nervous, but the excitement and the energy far overshadowed my anxiety about the day. The work was done and it was time to get down to brass tacks.

Gah. I can't figure out how to flip that. Just turn your head.

It was 7:12. Almost time. I asked Melissa to pray. I don't know exactly what she said, but her prayer was full of gratitude and jubilation and praise and when she finished, we were all crying. I think this is when Nick walked up, which was a welcome distraction and gave us all a chance to wipe our eyes. 7:16 and we were on the dock. 7:21 and we were cannonballing into the water. 7:24. Game time. 

The horn blared and off we went. People talk about the brutality of an open water/mass swim start. Up until this point, I've been blessed enough to avoid such things. This race ended my streak. I think I positioned myself a little too close to the front. The first 100 yards were a turgid whirlpool of arms and legs and fists to the head. I couldn't get in a rhythm and I couldn't break free of the crowd. By the time I broke through that first buoy, I was in my own bubble, but I'd had the snot beat out of me. I never lost control of my breathing - for which I was extremely grateful - but I was worried about Nicole. Blessedly, she was fine and didn't have the same experience I did. Whew!

Once we made that first turn, the wave behind us caught up to me. This was the point of the swim where things just got flat stupid. A wall of 4 men in orange caps went completely over the top of me and I was pushed under. Not cool, orange caps. Not cool.  A guy in front of me was swimming zagzags and a woman from the first non-pro wave was back stroking. It was mass chaos, but I just kept stroking and looking for my own space. By the time I turned that last buoy, I was about done with these crazy cats. I had plenty of gas left in the tank, but I was just done being in the water with these crazies. My feet found the ramp and up I went!

Official swim time - 45:46

I always look like a lunatic coming out of the swim. I'm always grateful and relieved that I didn't drown. I really, really, really wanted to come in closer to 40 minutes, but given the fact that I had to swim 1.2 miles while fighting a wrestling match? I was ok with this. I dropped down at wetsuit stripping and got a hearty cheer from Nicole and  Melissa's husbands. Then I saw Krista and Ann and a bunch of other people I knew and I felt like I had wings! On to the bike and to fight the wind!

T1 was smooth. I shoved a waffle in my mouth, dried my feet off, and girded my loins for cycling. I felt like I was moving quickly, but my time showed otherwise. Away I went!

Official T1 time - 3:53

As I mentioned, everyone had been on and on about the wind. This is Galveston. OF COURSE there's wind. We ride in the wind every weekend so I'm not sure why anyone would have expected anything different on race day. Here's a fun fact for you - EVERYONE I talked to said, "Oh get your head wrapped around this - it's going to be a tailwind on the way down and a headwind on the way back." Well see. My daddy taught me how to read a map and I could see the little arrow indicating wind direction and I KNEW in my bones that EVERYONE was wrong. I KNEW that we'd have a cross-head on the way down and a cross-tail on the way back. But EVERYONE was so convinced that they were right, I just kept my mouth shut and decided I had to be an idiot and I tried to wrap my head around that. Well guess what? I'm not such an idiot and that wind did exactly what I thought it was going to do. It wasn't much help on the way back in, but it beat the heck out of a head wind for the back half of the course!

I settled in early on the bike and got as comfortable as one can get on a tri bike. I started drinking and taking my salt. I was SUPER focused on my salt as I had some cramping issues at Oilman in November. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Flat, flat, flat. Wind, wind, wind. I actually passed a fair amount of people which truly surprised me. We were in the 6th swim wave, so there really weren't that many people on the course ahead of me, but I found quite a few to pass. Right around mile 25, I hear Melissa cheer me on from the other side of the course. She just FLEW on her new bike and really put a hurtin' on that course. I was so jazzed to see her and got a huge surge of energy. Back to business. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Flat, flat, flat. Wind, wind, wind. Just before the turnaround, Nicole came up behind me. FINALLY! I was so worried about her. I truly expected her to catch me by mile 10 (and would not have been surprised had she caught me in the first 10 minutes!). We chatted for about 60 seconds and off she went. Apparently, she had some technical difficulties in T1 and had a hard time getting out of there. She stopped at an aid station and I passed her only to be passed again about 5 minutes later. I noticed my hamstrings and QLs were just tired. I wasn't cramping at all, but I was just tired. I took in some more salt, ate another shot block, brought home the bike, and dismounted feeling strong but tired. Actually more tired than strong, but I was glad to have my legs back underneath me. (After some thinking and race analysis, I realized I only took in 99 calories on the bike, which was a HUGE mistake that I paid for on the run. Lesson learned.)

Official bike time - 3:30:12

T2 was fast and furious. I traded my cycling shoes for running shoes, grabbed a hat, and pulled my Gatorade bottle off the bike. Away I went, feeling fast and actually moving fast!

Official T2 time - 2:05

This is where the rubber met the road. The run was HARD. It was hot and it was hard. I saw Julie and Liane just coming out of transition. I was feeling strong. Sort of. I thought I had a 2:35 in me, but my body said otherwise. Just before mile 1, my left hamstring cramped. Hard. I had never cramped like this while running and I had NO idea what to do. I hobbled through it, stopped for some water, and took some more salt. As I worked through it, I was thinking, Well hell's bells. I guess I'm getting ready to walk 12 miles... It finally let up and I was able to run again. I took it easy, worried that I'd be right back in this boat if I pushed too hard. As I ran, I saw a LOT of friends and family. Heather and Gracie, Randi, Penny, Crystal, Ann - a ton of people who believe/d in me. I wasn't sure where my family was, but I knew they'd be there. I rounded the parking garage where they were last year and my heart sank. No family. I pushed on up a stupid hill and over a stupid overpass and was cursing this stupid race when I saw my mom and dad's Tahoe. I didn't think they saw me (they didn't, but Daniel did!!!), but I knew they were there and I knew they were coming. I picked up my pace a little and was so grateful to see them on the way back for loop 2. Just before the end of the first loop, I saw THE cheering squad - Nicole's entire family, Melissa's family, Julie, Liane - I can't even name all the people who cheered for me. I stopped and I told them, "LISTEN to me. I am HURTING. My hams are gone. I'm hot. I'm already out of gas. When Nicole and Mel finish, GO HOME. Do not wait here for me." They encouraged me and lifted me up and off I went. Again. 

On the back half of loop 2, I saw my family for real this time. I stopped for hugs and kisses and MUCH needed motivation. I was so happy to have them there for me. 

It was shortly after this that I met up with David. I didn't know David, but he approached me and asked if he could run with me. I'm always up for a running buddy, so I gratefully accepted. Wow. This dude? Loco. He signed up for this thing having never done a triathlon. Race day was his first time in a wetsuit and his first time in open water. Word? Well. Whatever, dude. He was on track for a sub-7 and needed somebody to pace him in. We ran together and chatted about our kids and high school coaches and why we were out there doing what we were doing. The time passed quickly and before I knew it, we were on the homestretch. David told me that he could tell I was mentally tough and that he didn't think he would've finished without me. I'm not so sure about that, but a buddy is a buddy and I was happy to have one.

One thing to mention about the day is that it was HOT. Did I mention it was HOT? At every aid station, I stopped and poured ice everywhere I could manage. Thank GOD they had cold sponges. I soaked two at every opportunity and stuck one in my bra strap and one on my back. I basically had water running down me the entire 13 miles. I knew I was getting blisters, but whatever man. I was almost done and a blister never killed anybody. I considered stopping and wringing out my socks at one point, but I was afraid that once I did, I'd never get my shoes back on. After actually seeing the blisters, I made the right call.

We FINALLY made it to THE cheering squad and I nearly cried. I was sure they would've gone home long before now, but they waited. My friends are amazing. Have I mentioned my propensity to pick amazing friends?? I made it in across the finish line and actually heard my name this year. It was such a rush and I'm so glad I persevered. David found me shortly after to shake my hand and thank me for helping him through. Crystal found me first and gave me the most awesome high 5 ever. Julie was close behind and then I found the mother lode of supporters.

We are some happy ladies!!! Official time - 7:18:35

I am ever so grateful for this life and these people I get to call my own - the husband who handles weekends with the kids, my parents who pick kids up from school so I can train (or nap...), the friends who train with me, the friends who pray with me, the friends who ask me about my training. I wake up some mornings and I just can't believe that I get to do this sport with these people in this place. I am so incredibly blessed and grateful and I can't wait to put my money where my mouth is. April 22, 2017 is going to be best day ever and I am so beyond honored to toe that line with these ladies and show IMTX what this body can do.

Marathon in the morning

So I'm running my first marathon in the morning. I signed up in a moment of fervor when my friend Heather convinced me to push the button. Guess who isn't running 26 miles with me in the morning? Thanks, Heather! ;o) Eight months later, I'm ready (enough). My long runs have accounted for over 6 marathons. I have to rely on my training and know that these legs have 26 miles in them tomorrow. I missed 4 key runs (Disney, my daddy having aneurysm surgery, my being sick, and my daddy having a heart cath), but I can't (and won't) focus on that. I am focusing on so many other things - amazing weather, incredible friends who have run with me, supportive kids/husband/parents who will come out to support me. I'm also running in honor of Dylan Will, a young man who lost his life in a battle with depression. I'll carry his memory and his struggle with me and remember that I have found a passion and an outlet that allows me to have a positive, healthy outlook on life and to be brave and to be thankful and to just keep moving forward.

This time tomorrow, I'll be on my couch in my compression sleeves, sitting on an ice pack, eating a crapton of pizza, and calling myself a marathoner. Here's to fresh legs, cool air, supportive crowds, and a good night's rest.

Giddy up!!

MIA

So who knows where I've been for the past 5 months...? Training, life-ing, DisneyWorlding, Oilmaning, camping... Just being generally busy. I still have two race reports to write - the Mammoth Lake Olympic (which I will not return to) and Oilman 70.3 (which I will definitely return to, just not in 2016). Our family spent a weekend at Brazos Bend State Park with our Cub Scout Pack in November enjoying our first family campout (which will also be repeated; early and often). We also spent Thanksgiving at Disney World and Universal Studios (which left us broke and tired, after 46 miles of walking in 5 days).

I did a scary, scary thing this weekend. I took a pic of myself in not much at all to track my progress between now and IMTX. I haven't decided if I'm going to publish this post or keep it private. Maybe I'll publish it without the images, just to keep myself honest without embarrassing myself and my family. The plan is to take the same two pics every Sunday from now until IMTX to document how my body changes and responds to the intense training schedule that is Ironman.

Some day soon, I'll get around to the race reports and camping tales and Disney fun and all of that. Kids are going back to school tomorrow after Christmas break and marathon training will come to an end on January 17 when I toe the line at the Houston Chevron Marathon. (shaking in my New Balance....)

I don't make NY resolutions any more - I set yearly goals. This year, the goals are as follows:

- Run the Houston Marathon
- Conquer the sub-7 half iron
- Learn to cook rice
- Register for IMTX17

I have two weeks left until the Houston Marathon and 14 weeks until HIMTX. I made my first pot of rice this morning. It wasn't half bad. I'll volunteer at IMTX in May and sign up for IMTX17 the following morning. I'm well on my way to achieving those goals and it's just the fourth day of 2016.

With a whole lot of prayer and some dedication, I'll completely transform my body through the next 15 months, 17 days, 14 hours, and 60 minutes.

How's that for a catch-up post??

Iron Angels

We were at a birthday party this weekend and I had the opportunity to chat with an IronMate (Amy) about her husband's experience at IMLOU a couple of years ago (we'll call him Mike). I asked Amy to chat with Doug about her experience as a Sherpa/IronMate. "Maybe you could chat with my husband about what he's in for during the next 20 months. . . ?" I suggested. She smiled and patted my arm. "It's probably best he doesn't know," she said. Yikes. Just yikes.***

I laughed and asked about his race. She told me an incredible story. It went like this:

Mike really had a hard time at Lou. He had trained hard and knew what to be prepared for, but he wasn't really prepared for the hills. He knew what pace he needed to keep on the walk in order to make the cutoff, but the hills. He just wasn't prepared for them.

He was behind a guy on the bike who bonked. Of course he had no way of knowing the guy was bonking, but boom. There he was, lying in the road. He had fallen off of his bike right in front of Mike. Mike didn't have a chance. He barreled into the guy, flew over his handlebars, and wound up in the ditch. He sat there in the ditch, stunned. "Well, there goes my Ironman," Mike thought. "This is just something I can't help. I did my best and apparently, today wasn't my day." As Mike stood up, he realized nothing hurt. He wiggled his fingers and his toes, stretched out his back, and said a prayer of thanks. He was uninjured. No bumps. No bruises. No pain of any kind. "Wow. If I'm in this good of shape, my bike must be totaled." Nope. Bike was fine. Fine. 100% fine. "Well. I guess I'll climb back on this bike and see what happens."

Mike tooled on down the road and was making decent progress, but he was worried about making the cutoff. The hills were really taking their toll and the unexpected stop had eaten into his time. He was getting a little discouraged when a pair of tri angels happened upon him. "You look like you're struggling there, friend." Mike admitted that he was and he was worried about making it in. "You stick with us. We've been training on these hills and we'll pull you through. Stick with us. We'll get you there." These tri angels never left him and got him through the last of those 112 miles, well under the cutoff.

Mike began the "walk," as Amy called it. He did the math and knew he needed to maintain a 15-minute mile to beat the 17 hour cutoff. As he caught and passed people who were struggling, he would repeat the same phrase the tri angels had said to him. "You look like you're struggling there, friend." Competitor after competitor confided in him that they were done. They were tired. They had stopped too many times. They weren't going to make it. Mike repeated the same mantra, over and over. "You stick with me. I've been training at this pace and I'll pull you through. Stick with me. I'll get you there."

Mile after mile, Mike encountered more people just like him. People who had encountered the unexpected and were giving up on their dreams. Mile after mile, he kept on encouraging. Kept on pulling. Kept on moving forward. As the clock neared midnight, Mike and his new friends approached the finisher chute. Thirty new friends. They began to peel off, one at a time, and give it their all to finish their race. Mike had pulled THIRTY people through the deep, dark night of Ironman and brought them home. Because two tri angels had given him support and encouragement when he needed it most, Mike was able to do the same for thirty people who were moments from giving up on their dreams.

Isn't that incredible? Isn't that what this whole sport is all about? Individual achievement through community? Stories like this resonate with me. Stories like this stick with me. And when I'm in the deep, dark hours of my Ironman, I hope I remember this story and plug forward, making new friends and achieving my dreams. Maybe even thirty new friends.


***Amy does have six children (whom she homeschools) and her husband travels. Not exactly apples to apples, here.***

IronKids

Last week, we went to the beach with our friend Jenny. Jenny is an early elementary school teacher and really gets my kids. She's genuine and honest and so very pretty and kind and my children just love her. Our ride to the beach was dominated by my children vying for Jenny's attention. "Miss Jenny! Do you know what a capacitor is?" Miss Jenny did not. "Miss Jenny! Do you like my kitty?" Miss Jenny did. "Miss Jenny! Do you know what a transistor is?" Miss Jenny had a good guess, but Daniel had a great time explaining this one anyway. "Miss Jenny! Have you tried a PLUM-o-granite?" Miss Jenny had not. It was an eventful ride.

Our time at the beach was spent burying mom in the sand, chasing birds, watching people get their SUVs stuck in the sand, swimming, jumping, running, snacking, leaping, whirling, and generally wearing ourselves out. It was perfect.

By the time we headed home, my kids were whipped and miraculously enough, my kids were quiet. This gave Miss Jenny and I a chance to chat about what we wanted to chat about, a rare and precious gift. She asked me about Ironman, my goals, and why I was doing what I'm doing. I really can't put into words all of the why behind what I'm doing, but I have a few good reasons of why I want to complete 140.6 before the sun sets on my life as a triathlete. One, the tattoo. Yup. I said it. I want it. A big, ol' red brand on the back of my calf. Fan girl? Maybe. Do I care? Not even a little. Two, Mike Reilly and those precious four words. Jenny had never heard of Mike Reilly and I regaled the tale of how "YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!!" came to be. It goes like this:

Mike was calling in Kona one year (don't ask me what year). He had a friend who was racing who had gone through a down spell just before the race. Let's call him Joe Schmoe. He confided in Mike that he didn't think he had what it took to be an Ironman. Mike gave him a pep talk, talked him through the day, and wished him well. Days passed, Joe went through all of the pre-race stuff that we all go through (I'm too old/young/fat/slow/new at this/blonde/brunette/smart/stupid to do this. I am going to OWN this! What was I thinking? It's just 140 miles - the hay is in the barn! It's going to be too hard. It won't be too bad. I can't ride my bike 112 miles. This is going to be the best day ever! What was I thinking???), and Joe ultimately showed up at the starting line. Mike was doing his thing, calling people in and dancing and celebrating with people who were seeing the realization of a months/years/decades-long dream. I have no idea what time it was or how many people had come in, but Mike saw Joe coming down the chute. He got emotional and was so excited for his friend! He sees him coming and says something like this, "And Joe Schmoe, from Encinitas, California - YOU.ARE.AN.IRONMAN!!!!" Joe covers his face and then thrusts his fists to the heavens, tears streaming as he crosses the finish line. . . and the crowd goes absolutely wild. And Mike sees Jane Doe coming down the chute and he says, "Jane Doe! YOU are an IRONMAN!" And the crowd goes wild. Mike see John Doe coming down the chute and says, "John Doe! YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!" And the crowd loses their minds (again). And here comes Amanda Hugginkiss and Mike says, "Congratulations, Amanda! You did it!" And the crowd is aghast! How could he NOT say "YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!!"?? They boo and whine and chant for him to say it again. So he does. Again. And again. And again. And BOOM. Just like that - a tradition is born. 

People all over everywhere train and dream and fantasize about THE voice of Ironman calling them home. They don't remember hearing the words, but someone - father, wife, child - captured it on video and it's immortalized. This moment, this pinnacle of success, these four words that tell us what we all want to hear - that we did it. That we are worth it. That we are strong. That we persevered and we didn't give up and we fought hard for what we wanted. That we knew the road would be long and dark and lonely, but we kept moving forward and we earned that tattoo, that finisher jacket, that bumper sticker or key chain or medal or hat or whatever it is we wanted. That feeling of success that can never be taken away. The right to call ourselves an Ironman. The privilege to know that our obituary will include phrases like, "dedicated mother, devoted wife, and Ironman finisher." 

Ok. I get it. I just went all sappy and weird and crazy. But this is what I think about and this is what I told Jenny. 

The next morning at breakfast, we were talking about our plans for the day. Gym, library, lunch, whatever. Daniel asked what I planned to do at the gym and I told him I was going to spin class. Lia asked why. I said, "To make my legs stronger so that I can one day be an Ironman." A few minutes later, Lia said, "Is there a little kid race? One like Ironman?" I said that there was - Ironkids - and that she could sign up for it in April when I race at Galveston again. She said, "I want to do it, mama. And I want Mister Mike to call my name. Will he say, 'Lia Carey - you are an IronKid!!"? I have no idea whether Mike shows up to the IronKids races, but someone will be there to call my baby home. 

Knowing that I spoke passionately about my passions and that kindled a little flame in my baby's heart is beyond priceless to me. I often wonder if I'm inspiring my children or if this dream I chase is just something they'll resent later. I know there's a strong possibility that they won't give a rip in the world about Ironman or triathlon or any of the things I find important. I know there's a chance they'll hate it - that this is just something that takes me away on Saturday mornings and Thursday nights. I know there's a chance that they'll wind up on a couch one day, talking about how I used to ignore them while I spun my legs out on the trainer (which is absolutely untrue - we do homework, spelling words, piano practice, and all kinds of things while I'm on the trainer). But. . . knowing that there's a slight possibility that I'm leading them down a path that they will come to love and cherish - a path to a healthy lifestyle where fitness and nutrition is important to them - is enough to keep me moving in this direction. With any luck at all, my babies will be IronKids before mama is an Ironman. 

I really don't have any profound way to wrap this up other than to remind you that they are always watching and they are always listening. Fill their eyes and their ears with hope.