I awoke from the nothingness with a gasp, crying “I can’t breathe!” I tried to take in breaths but it seemed like my body wasn’t allowing me to do so. My legs and arms were locked up and were starting to go numb. I tried to remember something, anything, about where I was and why I was there, but I couldn’t. I lay there struggling to breathe sure that I soon would take my last breath.
Ironman 70.3 Chattanooga. So many memories at this race. I consider it a hometown race because it’s only two hours from my home in Nashville. I know every twist and turn of the course. It was the first 70.3 triathlon I ever did and I’ll always remember how excited I was to cross that finish line; completing something that I hadn’t entirely thought was possible. Now, years later and jaded to the distance, I was just hoping for a decent race. Last year I had an injury issue and then had a mechanical on the bike portion of the race which lead to a less than stellar finish. I’ve never had a result I’m satisfied with at this event and this year I hoped to change that. I had a good training block leading into the race and I went into weekend excited for the race.
Going into 2023 if you had told me I would do not one, but two full Ironman triathlons this year I would have said absolutely not. I’ve done triathlons for years now, but never a full Ironman distance (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and a 26.2 mile run). My plan had always been to do one Ironman in my life, maybe at the very end of my “career”, check the box, and move on. But I have friends (I blame you Alicia!) that love to do crazy things and I love to join them, so I signed up for Ironman Coeur d’Alene in June and qualified there for the World Championships in Kona, Hawaii so how could I say no?
We’re heading to Kona!
Fast forward 3 months and I was questioning all my life choices and wondering why I didn’t say no! Work was a lot, the general back to school activities with 4 kids was a lot, and of course training was so much. The last few weeks of training consist of two workouts a day and very very long Saturday and Sunday training sessions. But I had lots of friends to do these sessions with and they say that when you’re just over it all, that means you’re ready. So I guess I was ready.
We brought the entire family with us because the timing of the race was perfect, over their fall break. They had never been to Hawaii so everyone was very excited. Everyone but me. I boarded that plane feeling like a loser. I felt like a loser at work, a loser with some personal things, and a loser because I had been injured since April and hadn’t been able to run until the end of August. Hip tendinitis and an Achilles issue. My training had been very slow run/walks so I really didn’t know what would happen.
But all of that worry left me as soon as I stepped off the plane in Hawaii. You could feel the excitement in the air. We were at the World Championships! For the first time ever Ironman had split the men’s and women’s championships into two separate races. The men had already competed a number of weeks ago in Nice, France, so Kona was an all women’s race. There were strong, impressive women everywhere; it was awesome just to be a part of it.
The day before a race I’m always super nervous, but on race day those nerves are gone and I’m ready to go. Kona was no different. I was ready! But then I had to wait…and wait. My age group was the last to go and time goes so slowly. I decided to use the bathroom one last time while I was waiting and while I was pulling down my kit it ripped all the way down the middle of the top Janet Jackson style (luckily I was wearing a sports bra so no slips!). But that meant I would now be doing the entire race with my top flapping in the wind. But there was nothing I could do about it so I put it out of my mind.
Finally it was time for my age group to start. It’s a deep water mass start at Kona so we’ll swam out and treaded water until they said we could go. And we were off in the typical craziness of a triathlon swim start. The course is a rectangle; so you just swim straight out for 1ish miles, turn right at the 2 boats marking the turn, and then swim back. I was so nervous about the swim. I am not a good swimmer and couldn’t imagine swimming 2.4 miles without a wetsuit. But I really, really enjoyed the swim. The salt water kept me very buoyant and the temperature was perfect. The loved looking down at the tropical fish swimming below me (so much better than nasty lake fish!). Earlier that week I had swam with a sea turtle for awhile; such a great experience. Before I knew it I was rounding the boats and starting the swim back. I was alone for a bit and when a group of girls began passing me I realized I had really slowed down being alone, so I hoped on the feet of one of them and stayed with the group until the end of the swim. I got out of the water smiling because I had just swam 2.4 miles and had a great time doing it!
I ran(ish) into transition, hosed the salt water off, put on my bike gear, hopped on my bike, and was on my way to face the longest part of the day. I took the first few miles easy, just adjusting to being on the bike and getting ready for the long ride. My tongue felt swollen from the salt water and it always takes a bit to get my leg moving. The first few miles were an out and back in town through streets lined with spectators cheering us on. It was so great to feel that support, but all too soon I turned onto the Queen K Highway with virtually no spectators and miles and miles of empty lava fields. It was here I would spend the majority of the ride and it was time to get to work.
I love the bike portion of the race. I pass people the entire time and just have fun with it. This course suited me too; long nonstop rolling hills. There wasn’t a flat section in the entire course. It was here that I realized just how hot it was and how important keeping on top of my hydration was going to be. I decided to alternate water and Gatorade at every aid station to make sure I was getting enough electrolytes. That decision seemed to work because, although I was thirsty the entire ride and felt like I couldn’t drink enough, I never cramped or had any other issues.
The bike course is an out and back with the turn around point being after a 7 mile climb up into the town of Havi. I made the climb up fine, turned around in town and started the descent back down the hill. This was the point everyone had warned me about because the cross winds can get really bad and shove your bike around as you’re descending. But I don’t think the winds were as bad as they normally are so it was nice just a nice, long downhill section before I started back on the rollers of the Queen K.
I hit mile 90 and was over the ride. There was a headwind and the climbing just felt slow. I still felt fine, but definitely ready to be done. The last few miles into town I was biking next to the run course and began to brace myself for that long hot run.
I dropped my bike off in transition, happy to be off of it, and began the run. I had no idea how my hip would hold up but just planned to keep moving forward.
So happy to see my family
As with the bike, the first few miles are an out and back in town on Ali’i Drive. The road was filled with spectators holding signs and cheering in many different languages (70 countries were represented) and views of turquoise waves crashing into the black lava rocks. So beautiful. People had written with chalk on the road words of encouragement to specific runners and people stood with hoses to spray us with cool water as we ran by. It was a nice way to ease into being in my feet. I ran past my family here and seeing them filed my soul. Then we turned and went up Paulani Rd and were back onto the Queen K.
First few miles looking all happy
The heat hit me here. It was hot! It was going to be hot for quite awhile. The mountain to my right had a nice dark cloud hanging over it just teasing me with shade that would never come. I walked through every aid station chugging water then pouring it down my back then grabbing ice and dumping it down my shirt. The volunteers were amazing- offering to pour water on us, asking how we were doing, and encouraging us while they had the never ending task of filling cups to hand out.
So hot on the Queen K!
I saw some of my teammates out here which was a great encouragement. We would talk for a bit before one person would move on ahead of the other. Just keep going, we’re getting there.
The Queen K felt like it was all uphill as I ran on. So many miles running out away from town. Finally…finally, I reached the left hand turn down into the energy lab. I would spend a few miles here running down towards the ocean and back up. The wind was in my face as I ran down which felt great and the sun had begun to set. Everyone talks about how this is the worst part of the run, but I didn’t think so probably because of my timing. As I was running out of the area the sun went down into the ocean, creating another beautiful Hawaiian sunset. I turned numerous times to gaze at it, thinking about how blessed I was to be doing a triathlon in Hawaii! What an experience! The air finally grew cooler as I turned back onto the Queen K to head the last miles towards the finish line.
It quickly grew very dark with the sun gone and I pulled out and held a headlamp I had picked up in special needs to see the road. My stomach was starting to protest the nonstop sugar I had put into it all day but I was getting there so I just kept running; forward motion.
Soon I made the turn towards town and ran downhill. People along the course there were already shouting congratulations. There was a man with a mic at the bottom of the hill calling our names, shouting encouragement, and cheering us on. He said it was just one mile more. So close, yet it was the longest mile of the race.
I ran with a girl that last mile and we kept asking each other when the turn to the finish line would get there. Finally we made the turn and headed down the red carpet to the finish line. I started smiling and picked up my pace because I was about there. Then I saw my kids cheering for me. That made me smile even more as I ran over and high-fives them. I crossed the finish line with my hands in the air; I had done it.
All and all it was a good day. I had no pain on my run and having my family there was the best. It was also so fun to compete with only women. Hearing various stories of what these women had gone through just to get to Kona was inspiring. From people scared to death at the thought of taking on the course all the way to those trying to make the podium; the physical and mental toughness of every last woman was amazing. For the first time ever in a World Championship, every single person completed the swim within the required time and the race had one of the highest ever course completion percentages (97% completed the course). It was definitely an experience I won’t soon forget.
So much can change in a year! I qualified for the 2023 70.3 World Championships in October of 2022 by coming in 3rd in my age group at Ironman 70.3 North Carolina. It was a goal of mine because I’ve never been to Finland, which is where the 2023 World Championships were and I’m all about the trication (triathlon vacation). Plus I was curious to see how I would do in a “real” world championship. I had raced in St. George 70.3 World Championships in 2021 but that was during Covid so it wasn’t truly the world.
But, life happens and priorities shift, so this would not end up being a year to race the 70.3 Championships. It’s been a rough year personally, I decided to race my first Ironman back in June and qualified for Kona so I needed to save energy for that which is coming up in October, and I developed an injury- hip tendinitis and Achilles issue- and have not run in months. This race would become an “enjoy the day” tri. And enjoy the day I did!
First of all, I love Finland! The race was held in a great city, Lahti, about an hour northeast of Helsinki in southern Finland. It’s situated on Lake Vesijarvi, the lake we swam in, and is flanked by a set of ski jumps which are used in the annual Lahti Ski Games. As soon as we landed in Finland (our flight from Dallas was full of people doing the race and had 64 bikes on the plane!) we drove up to Lahti to do the race check in (and of course spend lots of $$ on Ironman WC clothes) and spent some time walking around the lake. It all really got me excited for 3 days later when I would race with the women.
I brought with me my favorite Sherpa (and husband!) Jeff who knows how to do all the things pre and post triathlon as well as be my best fan during an event. He put my bike together, helped me gather and distribute my bags in their proper places, finds me food, and serves as a calm presence when I get nervous before a race. Yes, even this one! The day before a major triathlon is always the worst.
Hiking with my Sherpa later that week
Race day dawned cool and foggy. So foggy that they delayed the start by a half hour to let the fog lift off of the lake so we could see the buoys. The pro women went first and then we all started by the age group we were in. My age group, 45-49, is the last to go which meant that I didn’t start until an 1:40 after the first wave started. I always try to start towards the front in races that we can self seed ourselves in, so the wait just felt like forever. The only cool thing about going last is that I got to watch all of the pro women start the bike portion of the race.
The front group of pro women
Finally…finally, it was my turn to start. We all lined up and the announcer said that we were one of the largest age groups there. We all danced to the music until he put on Abba’s Dancing Queen and said here’s a song from your generation. We all shouted-hey, we’re not that old! We were either babies or not born when that one came out. So insulting to us old ladies!
We worked our way up to jump off of the dock into the lake and it was finally my time to go. I jumped in and began to swim. The water was cold but not horribly so, especially wearing a wetsuit. I was towards the back of the group starting so I began to wondering if I would be the last person out of the water as women began swimming past me. I’m not a good swimmer (understatement!) and really worried that would happen. Finally I told myself to stop thinking about it and just swim. So I swam my slow pace and enjoyed the water. It was a point to point swim and the water was clean and felt great. People would bunch up around the buoys as always happens but spread out again in the straight-always. Soon it was over and I was running into T1.
I got on my bike with no issues and was off working my way out of town. The course was one big 56 mile loop through the Finnish countryside dotted by a few small towns and ended up being one of my favorite bike courses that I’ve done. It had a lot of rolling hills and was on a completely closed course. There were no cars. It’s the first time ever I’ve done an Ironman bike course that was completely closed to cars so thank you Ironman or Finland or whomever allowed for that; I just felt safe.
I passed so many of the girls who passed me on the swim and just enjoyed the course. These were country roads (with imaginary lines?!!) but passing was easy and everyone whom I was around were not drafting and being very courteous to each other. It’s why I love races with just women. There were so many times that I would have stopped and taken a picture if it hadn’t been a race! I would get to the top of a hill and look out over a golden field of hay with a cute farm in the distance surrounded by pine trees. It was beautiful!
Around 30 miles in we made a sharp turn and rode into a headwind. We pretty much had this the rest of the way back and I felt like it was hillier too so the second half was slower than the first, but still I really had fun on the course. We eventually made it back into town and just before the end there was a super steep hill. I rode by a girl and said- this is just mean to put at the end. That hill was followed by a steep downhill with signs to go slow because we were about to dismount off our bikes. We dismounted and ran our bikes inside a convention center (a first for me) where we grabbed our bags with our run things, got ready, and then ran out of the building to start the run.
Ski jumps behind me on the track
I had not run at all for 7 weeks due to injury until the week before the race and with those runs I was doing a short run followed by a lot of walking just to see how things held up; so the plan for this race was to continue a run/walk and make the run really slow and hopefully I would be fairly pain free at the end of the race. Not how I would have wanted things to go, but what I needed to do.
The run portion was two loops and started with us going up and over the street on a very steep temporary pedestrian bridge. We ended up running it 3 times. We then did a lap on a track right next to the convention center and in front of the ski jumps then ran out to spend the next mile climbing a hill. I had not really paid any attention to the run course since I knew I wouldn’t really be running it, but maybe I should have. I hadn’t realized how long the hill was! At the top the course flattened out for awhile and then ran downhill through a little neighborhood with lots of people out cheering for us even this late in the race and then ended up next to the lake for a few miles.
I ended up running slowly until I came to an aid station and then walked through every aid station. It was actually kind of hard to run that slow and depressing as everyone I passed on the bike now passed me on the run, but I just kept reminding myself that the goal was to be pain free after the race and the next day. It definitely made for the easiest 70.3 I’ve ever done, but also my slowest.
Running next to the lake was beautiful as was the weather. It was in the high 60s and the breeze coming off the water felt amazing. I started the second lap and thought to myself, one more lap and vacation begins! My husband and I were going to explore Finland for a week after the race and I was ready for that portion of the trip to begin.
Soon I went up and over the pedestrian bridge for the last time and turned to the finish line. I crossed the finish line feeling the most fresh I’ve ever felt after a race but I had achieved my goal. My hip and Achilles were not in pain nor did they hurt the following day so it was a good race!
I have nothing but good memories from the 70.3 World Championships. I love seeing all of the people racing from all over the world and admiring how many insanely fast people there are out there. So motivating! Now to just convince my husband/Sherpa that I need to qualify the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in New Zealand next year. I mean it’s New Zealand!
I just completed my first Ironman! I’ve been doing triathlons for years now. I’ve raced in every popular triathlon distance except for a full Ironman. This year I decided it was time to change that so I signed up for my first Ironman in Coeur d’Alene Idaho. Just thinking about the race made me feel slightly nauseous and my heart beat faster but I was curious to see if I could complete one, so I signed up and got to training.
All too soon it was time to head to Coeur d’Alene for the Ironman. My training had gone well for the most part with just a slight hiccup towards the end of the training block. I developed tendonitis in my hip and was banned from running for the last three weeks before the race. Whether or not I be able to complete the marathon at the end of the race was unknown.
Race morning dawned calm and clear and sunny even at 6am because it was northern Idaho in June. It was a beautiful day with temperatures that would eventually climb into the 80’s, but early morning was still nice and cool. I got everything set up at my bike and went to find my friend Alicia. We, with the help of my husband, got our wetsuits on and walked down to the lake where we met up with a few other friends. Alicia braided my hair as we waited in line to walk down to the water. Nerves were high but honestly at this point I was just ready to get the race over with.
Soon enough they let us walk down to the water and line up based on estimated swim finish time to start the race. Alicia and I joined our friends and we all gathered in a group hug right before we headed to the water. I stood at the water’s edge and when the buzzer went off for my turn to start the race, I pressed start on my watch and ran into the water and began to swim.
The water was beautiful. Cool, but not overly cold, and so clean feeling. I swam and swam and it actually wasn’t too bad! I’m a slow swimmer but can go forever at a certain awkward ugly looking pace so I told myself to just do that. People would bunch up and things would get a little crazy around each buoy, but then things would space out in between allowing for some nice consistent swimming. The course was two loops. After the first loop you run out of the water onto the beach, go through an archway, and head back in to swim the loop for a second time. I had been worried that I would not want to go again but I found myself really not minding it. I ran back in the water and swam a second loop with no issues. And suddenly I was finished, running out of the water. I had done it- swam 2.4 miles! Something I truly never thought would be possible for me. I remember thinking that no matter what happened the rest of the day I would always be proud that I swam that far.
In an Ironman race there is a volunteer to help you with getting off your swim gear and putting on your bike gear. So an amazing woman got my wetsuit off, handed me my shoes, sunglasses, helmet, asked if I had everything, gave me words of encouragement, and sent me on my way. I grabbed my bike and ran it out of transition.
When I reached the line to mount my bike, I hopped on and tried to pedal and nothing happened. I figured I must just have the bike in a hard gear so I tired again and still I could not move the pedals. A volunteer ran over to me and said he’d help me get on the bike but then he looked down and said- wait, your chains off. He pulled me over to the side and went to work getting the chain back on the gear but it was really jammed in, stuck to the side of the bike. He kept working on it and after a few minutes finally managed to get it unstuck and back on the gear. My savior! I’m not sure I would have been strong enough to do that myself. I thanked him profusely as he helped me on my bike that now worked and I pedaled off to start the 112 mile bike portion of the race.
Ironman Coeur d’Alene is known for its hilly bike course of which you get to do two loops. It consists of two separate out and backs. The first out and back is flat and goes through the town and follows the lake for some beautiful views. The second out and back is on a highway and is where the hills kick in. It’s honestly nothing horrible or too steep, but it’s just a lot of slow chugging away up hills. We had driven that part of the course the day before so I knew what to expect and it all felt pretty much as I thought it would. I chugged up those hills and tried to make myself go as fast as possible downhill- not my favorite thing to do.
Soon I was back to the flattish out and back section for a second lap when I began to realize that I’d made a mistake nutrition-wise. I had been drinking water at every aid station but not dumping extra into my bottles so I completely ran out of water. I still had about 5 miles to go until I reached a point 62 or so miles in where we had “special needs” bags waiting for us in which I had placed a refill of water and some liquid nutrition I was so thirsty and could feel myself getting that tingly dehydrated feeling and began to get worried but managed to make it to my special needs bag, filled up my bottle, and from then on made sure I refilled my water bottle at every single aid station. After that I was fine but definitely a lesson learned.
The second loop of the hilly section went well at first but around mile 85/90 or so I just felt slow and over it. It was windy there too which made progress feel even slower. I kept moving forward and suddenly came to a downhill section where moments earlier a rainstorm had passed by. It was no longer raining but the road was wet enough that the water sprayed up on me in a nice cool mist. Everyone around me, myself included, all sighed “awww” when we hit that section. It felt amazing! The wet road lasted for a few miles and completely revived me. I was happy after that and started to get very excited about the fact that I was about to complete the bike portion of the Ironman. Each section felt like such an accomplishment.
I rode into transition grinning and sat on the ground to get my running shoes and race bib on. I also pulled on a pair of compression socks. A lot of triathletes pee on the bike during such a long race but I just couldn’t, plus I was probably dehydrated the first half, but sitting on that ground it all came out. I was definitely re-hydrated and ready to run. I got up and began the 26.2 mile run of the Ironman.
My first thought as I began to run was- how in the world am I going to do this? Running felt horrible. I ran out with another girl and we made a turn past a group of people who yelled- looking good! She laughed and said to me, “we look good?” I told her, “well, I’m glad we look good because I sure don’t feel it”, and she agreed. But I figured as long as I kept moving forward I could complete the race now within the 17 hour time period even if that meant walking the entire thing. Just knowing that was an encouragement. Another encouragement was that my hip seemed ok! The bike ride had warmed it up.
The run course consisted of 3 loops through town and along the lake. This gave me lots of opportunities to see my husband, friends, and coach, all of whom shouted words of encouragement, asked how I was feeling, and gave me updates on my place in my age group. All was good until around mile 5 my stomach revolted and I quickly got to a port-a potty. After several minutes of not fun I felt good enough to get back to it and continued on my way. Luckily my stomach was fine from then on.
I settled into a pace that felt difficult but not impossible and just kept running. I walked through every aid station drinking some water, pouring the rest on my head, and dumping ice down my sports bra. Then I would start running again until the next aid station where I would repeat the process. About halfway through I began to add coke (the drink!!) to the ritual which tasted amazing at that point.
Towards the end of my second loop my calf’s started to cramp up some. I switched to Gatorade at the aid stations in hopes of staving off severe cramping which I could see had happened to many people out there. At this point more and more people were walking but I never felt like I had to, just kept running at a pace that felt doable.
I saw my coach at the beginning of the third lap and he informed me that if I kept running at the pace I was I should outrun 4 girls ahead of me in my age group’s ranking’s because they were running at a slower pace than me. I told him about my legs cramping some and he said- “this is the part of the race that feels like hell; just keep running.” And so I did. I kept running, my pace definitely slowing but kept the effort the same. I still walked through every aid station but at this point there were a few where I just dumped water on my head and didn’t drink because I was becoming water logged. The miles slowly ticked off.
Finally I made it to the split in the road that I had been waiting all day to get to. “To finish line” was written on the ground with a large arrow pointing to a spilt in the path away from the path that brought you to the second and third loop. I turned onto that path with a massive smile on my face- the finish line was right up ahead.
Only it wasn’t! At least not as close as I wanted it to be. I turned a corner into downtown Coeur d’Alene and there was one more hill for me to run up. So cruel! But I happened to be the only competitor at this section and the streets were absolutely packed with spectators all of whom were cheering me on. It was amazing and I could not stop smiling, even running up that one last hill. As I reach the top a guy yelled out- turn the corner and there’s the finish line. And he was right! I turned the corner and saw a nice downhill that ran into the red carpet Ironman finishing shoot. People were cheering and screaming all around me. I got in the shoot and gave high-fives to every person that stuck their hand out. Then I head the announcer say the words every first time Ironman competitor dreams of “Heather Goyette, you are an Ironman”. It was surreal and so amazing. I couldn’t believe I’d done it!
Because far fewer women compete in Ironman’s than men, certain races will offer more slots for woman to go to the World Championships in Kona Hawai’i (the birthplace of Ironman) and Coeur d’Alene was one of those races. With my place in my age group and those extra slots I was able to qualify for Kona. Another surreal moment!
I’m excited for Kona, but that’s not my favorite part. I loved to learn that I could really push myself in both training and the race to do things I wasn’t sure were possible. I loved the process, the hard work, the exhaustion, the pain, the eating all the things, and then whining about it all and getting up and doing a little more the next day. Such a sense of accomplishment. But truly my favorite part is the triathlon community. All are amazing people and athletes, everyone with their own story and reason for completing an Ironman. Every last one of them inspires me. It’s a community that I’m very proud to be a part of.
I just ran my first Boston Marathon and it was the most amazing experience!
My friend Alicia and I qualified for Boston at the Houston Marathon in January 2022 and then turned our attention for the rest of the year to triathlons, so when this January rolled around it was a bit of a shock to remember that we had a marathon to run in 3 months. I started training and all went well until life slammed full force into me. I had a couple major life events happened, one being my father passing away 18 months after being diagnosed with Giloblastoma (brain cancer). Between grief and the stress of it all, training faltered some, but I was also so happy to have running as an outlet. Running is my mental health release. There’s nothing better to me when life gets difficult than to run so fast and hard and far that I can’t think (is that the best coping mechanism? Probably not, but it’s what works for me.)
We determined that the best time to do my dad’s memorial service was the Saturday of the Boston Marathon weekend, so I moved my flight as late as possible and reworked my marathon plans. The service was so nice, yet emotionally draining, and it was a bit of a feeling of whiplash to go from the service to the excited chaos of Boston one day before the race. I was absolutely drained, but pushed it aside and got caught up in the pre-race excitement which was very easy to do once we landed in Boston.
Our friends who have run the Boston Marathon multiple times (and are very very fast) had told Alicia and me about the amazing atmosphere of the race, but there was no way to truly understand until I experienced myself. I loved every part of that weekend, Boston did not disappoint.
Race Day:
We actually got to sleep in! Because they have to bus 30000+ athletes 26 miles out to the start of the marathon in Hopkinton, there is not an early start. There are 4 waves based on qualifying times and we were in wave 3 which meant a 10:50am start. I didn’t even need to set an alarm. I had my typical pre race meal of coffee and a bagel with peanut butter and honey, checked the weather report one more time hoping that the rain in the forecast had suddenly magically disappeared (it hadn’t), made my final wardrobe choice, and we were off to walk to board the buses for the 50 minute drive to Hopkinton.
The Boston Marathon is a well oiled machine! I could not believe how many people were waiting to get on buses, but they loaded a set and immediately another set of buses appeared. Alicia and I boarded and were off. The bus we were on happened to have a lot of people who were part of wave 4 on it and were doing the marathon through fundraising. I loved that because the atmosphere was just pure excitement. These people had worked hard at both raising money for their nonprofit and training and could not wait to run the marathon. It was a first for everyone around us and we all shared stories of what we thought it would be like.
It started pouring just as we got off the bus. It was cold but I knew that meant a good run temperature once we started. Our wave was open to get into the corrals so we immediately walked to the start, used the bathroom at the biggest lineup of porta potties I’ve ever seen, got rid of some of the extra clothes we were wearing, and got into our corral. Before we knew it the gun sounded for our wave and we were off.
The first mile was a chaotic scene of trying to find enough space to run without hitting those around you. It was still raining a bit and the splashy thuds of the hundreds of footsteps of those around me made it seem like we were all running in cadence together. Within 1.5 miles I was completely warmed up and took off my final extra layer, a long sleeve tee, and tossed it to a bag at the side of the road that was being used to collect discarded clothing. The space around us began to open a little and thought, I’m really doing this!
The first 6 miles of the Boston Marathon are advertised as downhill but that’s not completely accurate; there are a few uphill sections, but it is definitely net downhill. Alicia and I had been instructed by our coach to treat Boston as a long training run because we have an Ironman triathlon coming up soon. We were to just find a comfortable pace we could hold and enjoy the experience. Without any discussion we settled into a pace that we did more or less hold the entire race. I have to admit I loved never once looking at the mile splits on my watch and just being able to run and take it all in.
Everyone says that the spectators at the Boston Marathon are the best; but you really have no idea how true that is until you experience it for yourself. Spectators lined the entire 26 miles- holding signs, blasting music, cheering for everyone, calling out names, and looking so happy despite the fact that it was a pretty miserable day to just stand around (50° and rainy). I was never bored and the towns and miles flew by.
Alicia somehow managed to get these videos without slowing down!
About halfway through I heard a low roar in the distance. I commented to Alicia about it, wondering what that sound was. She said- that’s the Wellesley Scream Tunnel! Sure enough, it was just as deafening as everyone said it would be and we had a great time slapping hands and each kissing a couple girls.
All too soon we were at mile 17, the start of the much talked about Newton hills. The crowds there were amazing; their cheers pushing everyone up to the crest of each hill. We got up the hills without issue, probably because it was a cool day, we were not racing, and we had done some crazy hill training leading up to Boston on hills that made the Newton hills seem flat. I actually think the hills were a good distraction during the miles of a marathon that can often just have you over it all. It’s a goal to focus on accomplishing in the middle of the race. I reached the top of Heartbreak Hill and someone next to me said- it’s all downhill from here. I smiled excited with how close I was getting to the finish line.
It’s not exactly all downhill from there, but definitely net downhill again. Around mile 23 I hit the ‘I’m over this’ part of the run. I still felt fine, I was just sick of running. Alicia and I also separated for the first time around this point. The course was getting chaotic again with some people slowing down and others speeding up while the road narrowed to accommodate the spectators. For the first time I looked at my watch to see when I would be at the next mile. Then I saw a sign ahead announcing that the course was finally about to enter Boston.
The crowds became dense and the noise deafening and I forgot all about how over running I was and just took it all in. I soon came to the part of the course that every Boston Marathoner dreams about- right onto Hereford and left onto Boylston. It was the most amazing experience that I’ve ever had in a race! The crowds were massive; all screaming and cheering and applauding us runners to the finish line. It was such an emotional moment and I could not stop smiling. I ran across the finish line with a huge smile on my face, hands pumping the air. Alicia was there waiting for me and we gave each other a huge hug so happy with what we had just accomplished.
I later found out that my finish time had actually qualified me for next year’s Boston Marathon. This had never been a thought in my mind, but kind of cool that it happened. Not sure if I’ll be back next year but I definitely plan on running the Boston Marathon again sometime. It’s exactly what everyone said it would be- the best race experience with the best spectators of any race out there. So fun!
The late afternoon sunlight danced around us; an ever-changing movement of light and dark, warm and cold, as it filtered through the tunnel of trees we walked through at the edge of the lake. The water sparkled as a duck quietly drifted by. I took a deep breath and briefly thought how nice it was to be out hiking away from it all. Then I stopped and laughed because I was hardly “away from it all”.
Our world’s have all become very small this past month. Most of us are in our home now almost 24/7. The place you know better than any place in the world just feels different when you can’t leave it. For some it might be filled with loneliness as you spend each day alone in your home’s rooms and for others your residence might be becoming exceedingly crowded, filled to the brim with family members who are always around, day after day. I, every once in awhile, will feel claustrophobic, missing driving hundreds of miles each day for work.
What helps is getting outside. It’s spring which means the weather here is all over the place. Some days and warm and sunny, others cold and damp. The wind always blows, carrying with it pollen and, some days, the threat of tornadoes. Yet, we get outside daily. With most parks and trails closed and travel discouraged, outside is now what is directly around us. We walk, circling our neighborhood and those nearby. Houses with manicured yards, rows of townhomes with the end units still being framed, apartments with kids on scooters circling the parking lot; we walk past it all. Over and over…and over and over again.
Then one day my son and I decided to venue out of our daily circling on pavement to an area across from one of the developments we frequented. We stepped off of the sidewalk and onto a faint trail and followed it into the “wild” and into our own small adventure.
The trail started around a lake. We passed a number of people who were fishing. I asked a man who was watching his young son cast a line into the lake if they’d caught anything. “Oh yes, we’ve caught a lot,” he told me as he held his hands up to show the size of what they were catching. We continued on and soon reached an ancient man-made dam. Water flowed out of the lake here and disappeared underground as it descended to a river far below. We too turned and scrambled down to the river.
At the river we stood and watched the water that had disappeared underground at the lake’s edge, reappear creating a couple small waterfalls as it flowed into the river. It had rained a lot earlier in the week so the river was high and flowed past us splashing noisily over rocks and creating some nice rapids.
We hiked back up towards the lake, crossing over the dam, and continued on into a large field. As we walked we heard some chattering and saw a bird running along the ground beside us. She ran up to us and then flew in a large circle around us only to land and run beside us again, chattering the entire time. We quickly realized why as we passed a nest with four speckled eggs in it just a foot off the path we were walking along. “Don’t worry, your babies are safe,” we told her as we quickly moved along.
A little further along we came to a basketball hoop in the middle of the field. An old soccer ball lay next to it so we shot a few baskets. It’s all that remains of what was once someone’s home and was a good reminder that we were not on a trail in the wilderness somewhere, but rather we were walking along a bit of land at the edge of civilization. A bit of wild surrounded on every side by suburbia.
In fact, a major highway ran north to south next to us; its noise a constant reminder that we were not in the middle of nowhere.
I love that there are scraps of wild left in the middle of civilization. Places where the road ends and cities have not yet encroached upon. These little pockets of wilderness that are easy to get to and explore. They’re often places where people once were and have left, allowing nature to once again take over. And nature does take over; the trees and grasses and birds and deer not caring that they are near civilization as they create their own pocket of wild.
As we continued on we came upon more old homesites. Nothing was left but the flat area where a home once stood and a few trees that would have shaded the house from summer’s heat. Here, the homes would have overlooked the lake. We stood in the empty space and, with the birds chirping around us and a warm breeze lifting our hair, for a moment we could imagine how peaceful it would have been to have a home here. The only sound’s then being the wind in the trees and water lapping along the shore. The spell was broken as a semi drove by on the highway behind us and we moved on, exploring our bit of wilderness.
I heard the singing behind me getting louder and louder. Suddenly a man, singing loudly in French, squeezed between my friend and me. We laughed when we realizedhe was wearing nothing but a wig and thong along with his running shoes. I moved over to give him more room, but quickly jumped back over as I realized that I was about to get run over by a large number of people dressed as chickens pushing a giant chicken float. And this was just the first kilometer! Welcome to the Marathon du Medoc, I thought as I smiled and picked up my pace.
My friend Amy and I for years would joke that the Marathon du Médoc was the only marathon we’d ever run. It’s 26.2 miles through the vineyards of Bordeaux, France featuring 23 stops for wine tasting and food like oysters, steak, and ice cream. Oh, and all this has to be done in a costume based on the year’s theme. I mean, if you’re going to run a marathon this should be the one, right?!! Then last year the joking became serious; let’s do it! we said to each other.
Guys! Traverse City is going to host a half Ironman next year! Who’s going to sign up?
That’s the text message that started it all over a year ago. Nicole, my trainer, had just found out that Traverse City, Michigan would be hosting an Ironman 70.3 in 2019 and wanted a bunch of us who train with her to sign up. But most of us, having never completed a half Ironman before, weren’t too quick to jump on that and, as it was Traverse City’s inaugural Ironman, the race sold out very fast. Nicole was in, we were out.
Fast forward to June 2019 and we received another text from Nicole:
It was just a short easy run. Our big race was over and we were enjoying a few weeks of easy. My friends and I, having just finished a swim, set off on a 5 mile run. We ran together, joking and reliving all the fun moments of the Ironman 70.3 we had all completed just two weeks earlier. On a long flat section of sidewalk, I stepped on a rock and slipped off of the sidewalk which was raised about three inches off of the ground. My ankle twisted off the sidewalk and I fell, seemingly in slow motion, down. All the way down. And in that quick few seconds, my life changed.
This is a much longer post than normal, but I wanted to record my thoughts. I also spent a lot of time reading blogs about other people’s experiences leading up to this race, so I hope this might motivate someone or help them feel less nervousabout their first race.
After months of training the day was finally here; I was about to do my first half triathlon.
My nerves were high as I walked the few blocks from my hotel room to the transition area of the race. When I arrived the whole scene had an otherworldly feel to it. At 5am, it was still very dark, so temporary lights had been set up to illuminate the entire transition area which held 2700+ bikes. A man with a megaphone announced over and over “you must be marked before you can enter transition”, while a seemingly never-ending line of people quietly boarded buses that would fill and pull away. It all had the feel of something much more sinister than a race!
7feetnorth 