What started with a stupid decision brings back my racing mojo

I had a phenomenal weekend.

Among other things, I surprised myself today and now am confident that I can own the Wine Glass marathon Oct. 6.

After falling off for a couple days, I was determined to follow my training schedule through the weekend, a one hour run Saturday, and a one hour and 15 minute run Sunday.

But due to standing plans and some ickiness of varying natures, the Saturday run never happened, and I ran 18 miles Sunday in 3:34.

(Sorry for not listening to you, wonderful person who has helped me out considerably with my training, I will will will follow my schedule from now on. Oh and congrats on IMMT!)

Catching up, but losing heart

I have about four unfinished blog drafts to get done, including a recap of my absolutely awesome race Saturday and pondering whether I want to raise money for charity to compete in an Ironman.

It's just been one of those weeks. I've skipped a bunch of workouts, partly because I genuinely have been really busy, partly because I've felt really tired.

Some of it may have been residual, from the Summer Sizzler. I took it really hard. I haven't done a hard, intense workout like that in quite some time, so it's natural to feel the physical exhaustion for several days after.

I've come to the conclusion that I really shouldn't have signed up for this marathon. Completing Musselman was a huge thing for me. But I didn't consider the cycle. With every up comes a down, and you need to cycle through said down before taking on the next challenge.

With the deferral date past, I am going to make it through the wine glass, heck I may have to cross the finish line on a stretcher, but I'm going to do it. But then I'd need a real and honest break, so I can get excited for whatever comes next.

I have other personal goals I'm trying to accomplish, so it's fitting that I take some time to focus on them. I have some projects at work I'm really excited about, and want to see through. I'm trying to have more of a social life, and manage my money better (which isn't easy when you are constantly throwing down for races). I'm trying to do a better job keeping up my apartment. I'm trying to lose ten pounds.

But I'm committed to the Wine Glass, so I will see it through.

Maybe a long run with a couple new friends tomorrow will turn things around. I said that last week,

Have you ever signed up for a race, but lost the motivation to train? How did you make it through?

That moment when you lose yourself

Earlier I wrote about the slump I've hit since my race.

But I forgot about one shining moment.

Monday I did my longest open water swim yet: 90 minutes. It was mostly nonstop though I did have to touch a few times since the sun made sighting very difficult.

Kershaw Park

Kershaw Park in Canandaigua is a haven for triathletes. They have buoys set up for open water swimming and any time of day you'll see people there swimming back and forth. It's very safe, the swimming area is in between a guarded beach and the boats/kayaks. The water is calm and you can always touch.

I'm not on a plan but knew I wanted to get a longer swim in. I had subbed a weights class and planned to jump in the pool after.

The problem was, ever since I started swimming in open water I've equated lap swimming to running on the dreadmill, and feeling like being a fish pinging back and forth in a tank that's too small surrounded by the silence that is the DFC pool in the late evening was not exactly the motivation I've been seeking. (If you're reading this John, I'll take the silence of your pool above the sound of screaming kids and inattentive parents any day, but some music would be nice :)!)

So I jumped in the car and headed east, listening to O.A.R. and Bob Dylan (I'm a weirdo) full blast and singing along to songs I didn't quite know the words to. The embarassing ones always seem to be playing just as I go through the toll booth. I should get one of those EZ Pass things.

(OK, given that I had thought to put my wetsuit and an extra towel in my car "just in case" maybe I did have it in the back of my mind, and the trip wasn't quite as spontaneous as I would have hoped).

"How's the water?" I asked a guy getting out of his wetsuit.

"Perfect," he said.

And it was.

Normally I'm the biggest baby about getting in the water. I inch in slowly. I'm nervous about Saturday's tri because it's a beach start! But getting in was easy Monday.

The swim started out tough because the sun was in my eyes. I had this problem at Musselman, I'm sure someone sells goggles that are better equipped to deal with glare.

It takes me about 16 minutes to go from one end of the buoys at Kershaw to the other. On the first lap, the sun was killer, and I kept touching to get myself back on track. I made it to the end and swam back easily. On the way out again I had a brilliant idea, why not just spot the sun? I found that if I aligned myself to just the left of the sun kept me pretty much on track. I made it out to the final buoy again, about 45 minutes in, realized I wasn't even remotely tired. That's when I decided to see if I could go for 90 minutes.

The lake was really crowded at this point. There were a ton of swimmers, people on the beach and people on boats. It was peaceful though, and I felt comfortable and at ease in the water. I got back to the beginning and like clockwork went out again.

I got back out, maybe a half hour after I noticed how crowded the beach was, and everyone was gone.

There was one other open water swimmer, one kayaker, and a bunch of people walking dogs and running along the beach. There was a slight moment of panic followed by an incredible calm. The sun was going down quick, but I only had 15 minutes left, plenty of time.

Coming back was an incredible, peaceful, serene feeling.

I got out of the water and dried off. Before I got into my car, this happened.

So beautiful.

I made it, a 90 minute swim. Sure I felt like my dogs were going to yank my shoulders out of their sockets when we went out after.

#totallyworthit

With the Wine Glass in two months, kicks in the ass are welcome and encouraged

In part 3 of my Musselman recap, I talked about the power of Facebook in training. Knowing you're not alone in whatever it is can be a very powerful thing.

I hit a major slump right after Musselman. After a year of training hard, post race I found it hard to dig up the motivation to do anything.

And that just doesn't include training. Leading up to Musselman I put a lot of things on the back burner, saying I'd get to them after the race. Three weeks later my apartment is still a mess, I haven't done any of the blogs or projects I've been meaning to get to, I've done exactly one long run, one long swim and one 20-mile bike (and a few shorter ones). I've also gotten through most of Prison Break, rewatched Breaking Bad and renewed my addictions to Words With Friends and jigsaw puzzles.

I told myself I'd try a real food/paleo diet. I have yet to make one week without slipping, in part due to a slight soda kick (perhaps the sparkling water I've been drinking lately was the gateway drug.) I've been slipping big time on the gluten factor as well.

The Wine Glass Marathon is in two months. I haven't run more than six miles since my half, yet I can't find the drive to get out there. I did hit a new record today though, I slept in until 10:30 on a weekday! (Working a later shift, it's debate season again!)

One thing I learned from my wonderful friends back in Ohio is that I needed to give myself time to rest, eat junk food and come around, complete the circle. I've done that.

I'm giving myself two more days. Saturday is the Summer Sizzler Formula 1 Triathlon, with shorter distances done twice. I should have done either a long run or a bike run brick this week but that didn't happen, with the primary in a month work is getting nutty. Me and early mornings haven't been getting along lately.

Then it's time to ramp up quickly for the Wine Glass. I'll have six weeks to get my long runs into the 20s. I'll train and race slow, I'll train at a 12-minute mile and probably race there too. Muscles have long memories so I'm hoping I can jump back up to the half level and progress from there, but I'll be seeking some expert advice first.

I'm hoping being around the excitement and race atmosphere will give me a boost Saturday. But kicks in the ass are welcome and encouraged.

EDIT: Realizing I need to give my blog a facelift. The title is no longer accurate!

Long live the YAM Part 1: With coconut and cranberries

Year-round, through triathlon training and gluten free (and newly paleo) cooking, I have had one close, and indisputable friend: The sweet potato.

It's friendly to my sensitive stomach, and has lots of nutritional benefits.

My standby sweet potato recipe is to coat with olive oil, salt and pepper and baked until they're just a little crispy. But lately, sick of most of my usual recipes, I've been experimenting. I present to you: 10 things you can do with sweet potatoes. The full feature will appear in the Democrat and Chronicle sometime this fall, but I'll post the installments here as they're ready.

But first, one must understand my methods.

Jessica's rules of cooking: 

1. Make massive quantities at a time, usually on a Sunday evening. Freeze them in batches. Throw in crockpot the morning they are to be consumed. That way you don't have to cook for yourself everyday. 
2. Foods with foreign ingredients are scary, and sometimes make me sick. Use fresh where possible.
3. I only own one measuring cup.  
4. Whenever a recipe calls for garlic, use extra garlic. If a recipe calls for two tablespoons of cilantro, go ahead and use a whole bunch. If it calls for olive oil, add an extra splash. At least. If you couldn't tell from my last name, I'm very Italian. 
5. If you drop food on the floor, just say the magic word "Lizzie" to summon the black and white blur which will whiz through the kitchen, making the food disappear. 
6. Until someone invents a magic machine that washes my dishes for me (#smallapartmentproblems) I try not to use too many. If something is particularly messy, those throwaway tins for baking come in handy. 

Ok, enough with the intro. On to recipe 1!

Lightly mashed sweet potatoes with coconut and cranberries. 

My food photography skills leave much to be desired. 

I'm trying a strange hodgepodge of the real food and paleo diets this month. Been exhausted lately, and I think it's because I started eating more processed food around Musselman. Day two and going strong. Goal is 30 days straight.

I adapted this recipe from Paleo Plan's sweet potatoes with coconut, pomegranate and lime recipe. I find pomegranates too labor intensive though, and forgot to buy limes.

Per my batch cooking tendencies, I tripled the recipe which yielded enough for a side dish each day and maybe a little left over to freeze.

My ingredient list:
7 smallish sweet potatoes
1/2 bag coconut flakes
1 can coconut milk (I used Goya, bought at Wegmans, but I do need to make my way back to the Asian market soon and stock up, much cheaper there.)
Salt to taste
1/2 bunch cilantro (I happen to really like cilantro. If you don't love it as I do, maybe use less.)
1 bag (8 ounces) of dried cranberries from Aldi.

I started off by peeling the sweet potatoes, pricking them with a fork and baking them at 400 for about 50 minutes. I probably could have cut some corners and nuked them but, hindsight. They came up a little brown, probably wouldn't have happened had I left the skin on but I prefer no skin. They tasted fine.

I mushed them up with a giant spoon and fork (I do not own a potato masher) and added everything else in. Very easy. Cilantro was supposed to be reserved as garnish but I just mixed it in. (See rule #4.)

Delicious!

I've got a bunch of other ones I'd like to try! I have the makings for sweet potato pancakes, have a recipe for paleo sweet potato hash, at some point will revisit my sweet potato chili, and will give a shout out to John H's yamanator (I tried to make a version at home. It pales in comparison.)

Long live the yam. 

I'm half crazy. Should I go all the way crazy?

Love this, an official race photo. I am going
to buy it. 

Coming in 40 minutes shy of my goal time, it's fair to say I crushed my half ironman. Read my blogs about the Musselman Triathlon in Geneva, part 1, part 2, part 3.

I'm not 100 percent sold on doing a full ironman (and if I decide, I don't know if I'm going to go with the capital I version). We'll get to the pros and cons of it in a minute. But for planning purposes, I'm going to assume I'm doing it, and I can always back down to the half later.

I'm a goal oriented person, always looking ahead, so I've just written out the following three goals for the remainder of the winter. Likely I'll take a break this winter from excessive cardio to weight train, as I did last winter.

1. Improve my cycling and swimming to condition for a full ironman in Sept. 2014.
2. Complete the Highlander Cycle Tour and the Wine Glass Marathon with no concrete time goal (under 5 hours in the marathon would be nice). Do the summer sizzler formula 1 and maybe another Olympic.
3.  Bike around all 11 Finger Lakes. (I might knock out Conesus or Honeoye this week)

To round out the year I'm doing the Summer Sizzler Formula 1 triathlon Aug. 10. You go shorter distances, then you do it twice! 400 meter swim, 17K bike, 3K run, 400 meter swim, 17K bike, 3K run. I'm hoping for another late-year olympic distance, and possibly a relay or two where I will be the swimmer.

I've decided to take the marathon easy. At some point I'll try and crush my PR of 4 hours 13 minutes, but now isn't the time.

On to the big question:

WILL I DO A FULL IRONMAN NEXT YEAR?

I've fantasized about it. If I do, my preferred race would be Ironman Mont Tremblant near Montreal (my first international race!) I don't know if I want to do a name-brand Ironman, which are more expensive, or just an ironman distance race. If I go for the latter, my preference would be REV-3 Cedar Point, a little cheaper and not too far from my parents.

It's a big commitment. So let's do a pros and cons list.

PRO: I'm young and childless. If I want to do something like this, now is the time.

CON: I have a full-time job, teach classes, have two dogs and an apartment to keep up. I got really worn down with half training.

PRO: Half training was totally worth it in the end. In looking at full schedules, it's not that much more, except for the weekend days. Plus it's only a few months. Looking back, training for Musselman just flew by.

CON: It's expensive. Crazy crazy expensive. We're talking $500+ just for the registration fee, then travel!

PRO: I'm thinking about it now, so could save for it. There are also other races, everyone mentions the HITS series, that are cheaper.

CON: I might only do one of these in my life, and maybe I would want that one to be a name-brand Ironman (the only logo I'd ever tattoo on myself, upon completion, of course.)

PRO: My support system is amazing and if I take the plunge I know people will have my back.

CON: While the equipment I have got me through the half, I love Flower but she still is just an entry level road bike.

PRO: It would be a huge accomplishment and one that I'd always have with me.

CON: Looks like there's a 17-hour cutoff. That means I'm thinking about doing an event that would take me almost that long. What sane person does that.

PRO: We've already established that I am not sane.


It's a lot to think about. I just emailed Ironman asking them how quickly IMMT sells out, I read that it happens fairly quickly. In that case, I do hear great things about REV-3!

Musselman 2013, my first half iron Part 3: Post-race high, and planning what's next

I AM A HALF-IRONWOMAN!! Part 3.

See Part 1 and Part 2 (about the race itself). (Related: I am a marathoner, I am a duathlete, I am a triathlete.)

After I set out to do this in earnest almost a year ago, I completed the Musselman half ironman, Geneva, NY in 7:18:15. It broke down like this: 1.2 mile swim in 49:17, T1 6:21, 56 mile bike in 3:42:36 (included an 8 minute wait for an accident to clear), T2 8:02, 13.1 mile run in 2:31:59. This put me far under my goal, the 8 hour cutoff that I was so worried about making. 

I felt like a rockstar coming through that chute. They mispronounced my last name, and I finally stopped. A volunteer cut off my timing chip, and two young girls handed me the greatest medal ever, and the greatest water bottle ever. 

These are real bike gears! I got a mid-sized one. Photo by Victoria.

This bottle is supposed to glow in the dark. Haven't tried it yet.
But someone on Facebook pointed out that the mussels are in the
wrong order, run bike swim!

I took a few moments to recover, and told Victoria she needed to make me walk so I wouldn't cramp.

I needed not worry about Victoria being bored. While I was out killing myself, she took pictures and Tweeted constantly (even finding a plug in a state park - a feat! -  to juice up and Tweet some more!), updated Facebook on my behalf, made friends with the Moms in Motion, spent a few hours volunteering in the food tent, took a photo of the winner then tweeted it, and proceeded to make friends with him, and still found time to lounge by the water. She blogged about the experience here. (We're first and foremost writers. It's what we do.)

Wegmans catered a delicious meal, I had some pulled pork, potato salad and ice cream. Victoria saw it fit to take a photo of the carnage before it got packed up. (I had spread out a bit before this was taken, I was not a bad transition neighbor!)

I was surprised how awake I was, and how good I felt, after the race. I tried to nap, but sleep didn't come. I was going to stay in Geneva another night, but I was feeling restless and wanted my bed and my dogs so I came home early. Wegmans fed me again, this time with sushi and a frozen pizza, and I finally dozed off.

Monday I was off work, a good decision. I woke up and no muscle wanted to move. I spent the day on the couch. Tuesday I went to work with some stiffness. Standing up and sitting down hurt, being on my feet for more than five minutes at a time hurt, but mostly I was physically tired. It's now 9 p.m. and I'm ready for bed. At lunch, I went out and got a new item for my car. My bumper is getting slightly ridiculous.

I want to send a very sincere thank you to my friends and family who were stalking Victoria's Facebook updates and supported me through this journey. If I didn't have a support system, I wouldn't be able to make it through. We do this first for ourselves, but having people asking you how it's going and cheering you on keeps you motivated.

That's the beauty of social media. Facebook and Twitter played very different roles. Facebook was about connecting with the old friends, in Columbus, whom I miss dearly. I could share things a bit more intimately with them, details that I wouldn't put on a public blog.

These comments appeared underneath a photo I used in Part 1 -- my Musselbaby inside the beer mug from my first 5K as an adult. They keep me motivated, but keep me grounded. Molly was the one who introduced me to Fleet Feet's marathoner in training program.

On Twitter, I was able to connect with others doing the race, and get my questions answered. On Twitter, I found people who were in the exact same boat as me. On Twitter, I realized I was not the only first-timer with nerves!

And, of course, since it's Twitter, share other random thoughts that pop into my head.

WHAT'S NEXT?

Musselman is where I'll peak this year. I have the Highlander Cycle Tour and the Wine Glass Marathon.

Right now I am considering doing a full. It's very much a consideration right now, and I know I'm still on my post race high so I need to approach it with a clearer head.

For now, I'm going to get my life back together, clean up my apartment, do some yoga to try to provide some relief to my stressed muscles. (Sorry, mussels.)

Speaking of which, the whole weekend was a quasi-celebration of the mussel, a sea creature that prior to I was more apt to think of as food.

But after seeing the mussel as a mascot for such a great event, I think I might need to pass on them from now on! 

Musselman 2013, my first 70.3, Part 2: Swim, bike, run -- for a very long time

I AM A HALF-IRONWOMAN!! Part 2.

See Part 1 and Part 3. (Related: I am a marathoner, I am a duathlete, I am a triathlete.)

After I set out to do this in earnest almost a year ago, I completed the Musselman half ironman, Geneva, NY in 7:18:15. It broke down like this: 1.2 mile swim in 49:17, T1 6:21, 56 mile bike in 3:42:36 (included an 8 minute wait for an accident to clear), T2 8:02, 13.1 mile run in 2:31:59. This put me far under my goal, the 8 hour cutoff that I was so worried about making. 

Races have a tendency to sneak up on you. You sign up months in advance, train, thinking you have time, you have time, then boom! The event is next week. This one came up quicker than most. 

One last look in transition before it closed. Photo by Victoria. 

I had prepared well. That morning I was on autopilot. Everything was set, I just had to set up and execute. I choked down a bagel with sunflower seed butter and got the cooler of ice out of the secret fridge. I needed more ice so we stopped at the gas station. The clerk wished me luck. 

Transition was laid out. I found the secret bathroom with no line. I greased up and slid on the wetsuit. I bid good luck to David and Ben, friends who were also doing their first. Syracuse.com has a wonderful photo of athletes in the water during the National Anthem. I got a quick dip in the water, then lined up with the other yellow caps. 

SWIM

Almost time for our wave. Photo by Victoria. 

The waves were huge. I've only done one other organized swim, at Keuka Lake. I should have done one at Quakerman but it was cancelled due to high algae levels. 

I've never swum with so many people. 

The buoys were bright orange and easy to spot, but they were so far apart. It's easier to swim in a straight line if they are closer together. 

It was a blur, wading into the water with a bunch of other women my age. Somewhere in that blur a horn went off and we started swimming. No horror stories, no one swam over me, no fights for a good spot. 

I fell into a peaceful rhythm, but it was tough. Breathing to the right is more natural for me, but the buoys were on our left. When I breathed to the left, the sun was in my eyes. I went back and forth. The water temperature was perfect. 

I only got kicked in the face once. I only kicked someone else once. 

Swimming in a pool makes me nutty, but I find open water peaceful. Once you're in for 10 or 15 minutes you lose track of time, and checking the watch throws you, so it's hard to tell how far you've gone or for how long. Which is how I made my first -- and only -- mistake: I didn't study the swim course.

What's the big deal, right? Just follow the buoys and swim in a rectangle. Not exactly. This course took us around three sides of a rectangle, but then went into a canal so we'd finish at a different spot than where we started.

Out of the water, ready for the bike.
Photo by Victoria. 

I knew that much, but I hadn't studied how long that canal was. So when I entered, I thought I was almost done. Not exactly, there was still about a third of the course to go. I got through, and a volunteer helped me onto a boat dock.

When I first started swimming, an hour in the water would leave me exhausted, but I did 1.2 miles in 49 minutes and felt strong. Ready to tackle the bike. 

I spent 6:21 in transition. At some point I might want to get that down, but I'm not worried right now. Bike jersey on, fuel together, water bottles on the bike. I'm glad I brought a cooler. It was getting hot out. 

BIKE

Off on the bike! Photo by Victoria. 

I am so glad I practiced the bike course. So glad. SO glad. 

I was off. The first 15 miles were gradually uphill. It wasn't so bad this time. Miles were anywhere between 3:20 and 4:00 depending on the grade. I was making great time. I stopped at the first aid station, even though it was a bottle exchange. Later I'd go through without stopping.

We rode down 96A and passed a bunch of Mennonite buggies coming from church. Each had 3-4 children in the backseat waving at us. 

I saw signs for Knapp Winery and some others as we went down 414, a slow decent. When I got Gigi, my first dog, in 2007 I did the Grapehounds wine tour through this region. Dogs could come and it benefited greyhound adoption. I went with my parents and with Gigi we toured the region. In 2011, I lost her at age 6 to cancer. I'm not the spiritual type, but as I pedaled through this beautiful country I imagined her looking over me, hanging out wherever she is now with the old family mutt, Katie. I asked her to help me through the race. She meant a lot to me, and these are the thoughts that get us through. I felt strong. Miss you, girl.

Bike map. 

Bike details. 

Volunteers make a race like this, and those out today were phenomenal. Imagine standing out in the heat for 4-5 hours holding a flag. Imagine passing out water bottles with cyclists zooming by. Imagine holding up upset drivers who wonder why they have to stop -- not the people on bikes. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all you do. 

Around mile 23 I was looking for the next aid station. They were supposed to be about every ten miles but also had to be placed strategically. Another mistake: Not knowing exactly where they were. 

I heard yelling at Mile 25, and a bunch of cyclists were stopped, as was I. A woman was down. The mood got really hushed as the group of stopped cyclists would slowly grow to about 60. I didn't want to rubberneck, didn't want to scare myself, but it looked bad. She had slowed for the aid station and lost control. 

I used the port-a-potty that was there. No cyclist was worried about their time, it could have been any one of us and that was a heavy thought. The rules of the road came to the forefront of everyone's mind. I was stopped for eight minutes, where volunteers graciously handed out bottles of sports drink. We were able to finally walk our bikes around the scene. Everyone was very careful going down the hill. 

We rode along Cayuga Lake, then hit Swick Road, the big hill. It wasn't as bad as it was when I practiced, but it was the first time in the small chain ring. Cyclists talked each other through. The climb eased but there was still a gradual uphill.

Lots of hills. 

Coming back in. Photo by Victoria.

We turned a corner at a penitentiary and zipped downhill, and turned into Sampson State Park. The road got a little rough. I was lucky not to get a flat tire, but many did. They were almost never alone in fixing them. Most of the time one of the official race vehicles stopped -- I even saw the official ref helping someone instead of penalizing us for drafting :)

After Sampson there was another hill, this one I wasn't expecting, since I didn't practice this part. I tagged back and forth with another woman. She'd pass me on the uphills. I'd get her on the downhills. We emerged, and turned back to Seneca Lake State Park. Victoria was there, with her camera. I took my time getting ready for the run. It didn't feel like eight minutes, but it was.

RUN

No matter what would happen in the next 3 hours, I would finish.
Photo by Victoria. 

I knew what I was getting into. Sign up for a race in February, it's going to be cold. Sign up for a race in July, it's going to be hot. End of story. 

I'm normally not good with heat, so I knew it was a hazard going in. All week I drank a gallon of water a day, sometimes more. I took electrolytes, I boosted my sodium intake, I was prepared. 

I started the run at 11 a.m., as the sun is reaching its peak. According to my Garmin it was 82 degrees, felt like 86, with 66 percent humidity. People were walking at Mile 1. People were finishing, walking. I'm afraid to find out how many people did not finish. 

It was bad. 

I told myself I was going to run the whole thing, with no time expectations. I had more than three hours. I could walk the hills, and walk through the water stops. I would stop at every water stop -- every mile. I had my hydration pack. 

My legs were numb from the bike, and I couldn't control my speed. As tired as I was, I finished the first mile in 10:30. I could not sustain this pace. I vowed to go 11:00 or slower, and I did. The pace evened out to a 12:00 mile with all the stops. I was thrilled with that.

My splits were: 10:26, 12:28, 12:46, 11:51, 13:41, 12:03, 11:57, 12:30, 11:42, 10:50, 10:09, 10:43, 9:53. All over the place. It was my first time looking at the numbers post-race. I finished stronger than I thought, averaging 11:36.

Run map. 

Run details. 

I thought with no headphones the run would be lonely, but it was anything but. Since no one was allowed headphones, the other runners were chatty, and this made the sweltering miles pass by quicker. 

I come from the Randy Olson school of negative splits, but I quickly learned that this was the exception, and my speed started to vary dramatically. When I saw a hill in the distance, I started to run faster, because I knew I'd recover while walking the hill. When the road was shady, I sped up. When the road was sunny, I slowed down. I picked it up a little at Mile 9 but four miles seemed like a long way. I felt like I was poking along. I wanted to be done. I also refused to walk across the finish line. I had to be smart. 

Volunteers continued to be amazing, so encouraging and helpful. The aid stations had bananas, pretzels, animal crackers, gels, ShotBloks, water, defizzed coke and sports drink. I took a little at a time. I don't remember who it was who suggested the ice in the sports bra trick, but that person is a genius. The cold, wet sponges were a lifesaver. Residents cheered. They sprayed us with hoses, but asked first. 

My favorite was the sprinkler near the sidewalk with the sign "ball chiller". (It's a male dominated sport.)

I would like to see the volunteers put a ban on the phrase "It's all downhill from here." I know you meant well, volunteers, and believe me, I know it's hard work to stand out in the heat doing any of these tasks from handing out water to ringing cowbells. Thank you thank you thank you. 

The course trended down after Mile 8, but there were still some ups. And when you're tired, you've gone so far, any small hill is still a hill, and is disheartening to see after you've been told otherwise. So please, unless you actually mean that the runner will be running downhill with no ascent until the end, don't use that phrase!

Run elevation. After Mile 8, those little blips up didn't seem so little.

Let's put it with "only a mile left". When you've come so far, a mile seems like a long way to go. 

I continued with my strategy, and after almost two grueling hours in the heat I finally came to the shore of Seneca Lake. Two and a half miles to go. This territory I knew. This was flat. I knew when the aid stations were. 

But more importantly, I still had more than an hour to get through these two and a half miles. I could walk it, and still finish in time. I was going to do it, I was going to be a half-ironwoman. 

These last two miles were spent in a sweaty daze as I plugged along. I was smiling. People noticed. "How on earth are you smiling?" 

"Because I'm going to do it. I will finish this race."

A half mile from the finish, I said to a random person, "I'm going to make it."

I finished. Photo by Victoria. 

I didn't have the gas to pick it up much at the finish line, but I stepped it up a little. I was soaking wet, had a huge chafing rash on my back from my hydration pack, and put my arms up. 

Victoria was there with her camera.

I did it. 

Read about the aftermath in Part 3.  Also see part 1.