Race Recap: Ironman 70.3 World Championship 2021

A goal of mine has been to qualify for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship and this year it happened. A couple days after completing the 70.3 in Chattanooga in May I received an email that I had qualified (they didn’t do anything in person due to COVID). I was shocked and excited, but not quite sure if I should do it because I had another race, an Ironman 70.3 in Memphis, less than two weeks after Worlds. But I decided that you never know, this might be my only chance to race in Worlds, so I signed up for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in St. George, Utah. Then I looked at the course…

Ironman 70.3 Chattanooga

The course looked brutal. The run course was a double loop with a 1293 foot elevation gain, most of it being in the first 3.5 miles which you had to do twice. Not to mention the insanely steep downhill sections that leave your quads and toenails crying.

It was bike course, though, that scared me the most. There was a total of 3442 ft of elevation gain along the course which is a lot, but it was Snow Canyon State Park that really had me worried. From miles 38-46 on a 56 mile ride, I was going to have to climb 1200+ feet with some pretty steep grades the final 5k or so up the mountain. I really wasn’t sure if I could do it.

I never really gave a thought to the swim course, but little did I know what was to come (cue ominous music…)

A couple weeks after I found out that I qualified for Worlds; my friend Alicia qualified. I was so excited! Not only did I now have a training partner, but it was one of my very best friends.

We got down to business and started training in the heat and humidity of a Tennessee summer. So many early mornings with dew points already hovering in the 70%s and so many hills. The summer was a rollercoaster of emotions for me- one minute I’d be excited about the race and the next I’d be nervous and scared and so tired.

My biggest breakthrough came with a weekend trip back to Chattanooga, TN. Alicia, our friend Armand, and I spent two days just climbing mountains on our tri bikes. I never dreamed I’d be able to bike 5/6 miles straight up at a steady incline of 10%+ grades without tipping over. But I did it! Just kept chugging along until I reached the top; shocked that I had made it up. Armand had planned our mini-bike camp and I am forever grateful to him. After that weekend, mentally, I knew I could do the St. George bike course.

As race day approached, Alicia and I narrowed our concerns about the course to 4 things: the extremely high 100 degree temperatures that Utah had been having all summer, how to stay hydrated with no humidity, the elevation gains on the courses, and a fun bonus anxiety- parasites in the lake we’d be swimming in that cause an itchy rash called swimmers itch (what?!!) We developed plans for all concerns (even the parasites) and headed out to Utah with our amazing Sherpa husbands feeling pretty prepared.

Race Day!

The day dawned cool and clear and calm with a beautiful sunrise. Our first couple concerns of a hot, dry race were unfounded. The sun was just breaking over the horizon as the pros, who went first before the rest of us, got into the water. The rest of us non-pros are called age groupers and we compete mainly against other people our age and sex in 5 year age groups. Because of changes that Ironman made since a lot of the world was not able to get into the US due to COVID restrictions, I was the very last age group to get into the water (a fact that I most definitely whined more than a little about!)

It actually made for a very weird morning. I got to sleep in, take my time getting to the start of the race, and then tried to figure out nutrition timing with not starting the race until 9:52am. I have never started a race so late in the day!

There go the female Pros!

Finally it was my age group’s turn to line up and head towards the water. Every 15 seconds they would have 10 of us run down the end of the boat ramp we were standing on into the water to start our 1.2 mile swim. I looked behind me as I was waiting for my turn and noticed that clouds were beginning to build in the distance, but the view over the water was all blue sky and sun.

Sand Hollow Reservoir looking calm and beautiful the day before the race.

When it was my turn to go, I ran into the water and started to swim. I am not a fast swimmer but I can get into a groove where I feel like I can go forever. My coach calls in yoga swimming. Even though a lot of people passed me on the swim, I was ok with it because I knew my heart rate was low and I could just keep moving forward.

Storms a coming.

I got to the buoy furthest away from our start which is where you turn, swim parallel with the shore for a bit, and then swim around another buoy to start the swim back to shore. As I was swimming around that furthest buoy I glanced at the sky and, what had been tiny clouds in the distance when I started the swim, was now dark and angry. I just kept swimming. I swam around the buoy at the halfway point to head back towards the shore and noticed that it had started to rain a little. But it was no big deal, I’ve swam in the rain. Then in an instant everything changed and all hell broke loose.

This is a video someone took from transition. I was in the water during this.

I have never seen the water conditions change so fast. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what was happening because I went from swimming to being tossed around in a churning lake just struggling to keep my head above the water. I tried to find the next buoy or even just sight the shore but I couldn’t see either because of the waves and rain. I noticed red and blue lights of the sheriff rescue boats heading out into the water towards us and thought, this can’t be good. I started to freak out a bit so I flipped on my back and started swimming towards shore. It was easier but then I began to worry that I wouldn’t make the cut off time that you had to complete the swim in and would receive a DNF (did not finish- every triathletes greatest fear!). So I gave myself a pep talk about this being Worlds and I was with the best of the best so I needed to act like it and get to shore. I flipped back around, was immediately slapped in the face by a wave, and started attempting to move forward.

Meanwhile, Alicia running in from the swim as the storm approaches. The storm hit her as she was out on the bike course.

I looked around and it looked like a scene from the movie Titanic. There were women bobbing in the water all around me. One woman was on her back crying. I tried to say something to encourage her but just got a mouthful of water. Then I noticed that we were surrounded by volunteers on boats. Canoes, kayaks, paddle-boards, jet skis; they were all in the storm with us determined to keep us safe. I never feared for my life because of them! My biggest fear was actually that if I went up to one of the boats I would get a DNF. At one point someone had thrown out a rescue float and I got tangled in the strap. I quickly got it off of me still fearful that it would result in a DNF. I later learned that the race officials called the race for the women probably right behind me (I was pretty slow in my age group) and did pull them from the water but let them continue the on with the rest of the race which I was happy to hear.

This picture made me laugh. I am exiting the water completely shell-shocked like what just happened out there!

I finally made it to shore and ran to the transition area to get my bag with the items for my bike in it. As I sat it began to hail and rain even harder. I laughed at the towel I had placed in the bag to dry off with as the girl next to me said, almost to herself, “I didn’t travel all the way to Utah to quit after the swim.” That was all the motivation I needed. I threw on the rest of my bike gear and grabbed my bike.

As I was attempting to run out of transition with my bike, the rain and hail pelting me, they announced the first male Pro had just finished the race. I started laughing at the absurdity of what I was doing in that minute and got on my bike for a very scary descent out of transition.

One of the race officials was yelling at us to get out of the lake area as quick as possible because the weather would improve. I pedaled quickly up the hill in the 30mph wind and driving rain and came to my first descent. I thought to myself that as long as I didn’t have to use the breaks I would probably be okay, so I went for it. And it did get better as I went along and the storm passed. Eventually the rain slowed to a drizzle, the wind let up, and then finally it all stopped.

The bike course was hilly as promised, but after what we had been through it seemed like no big deal. I was around only women because of when I had started in the race and everyone was amazing. I have never had such a respectful, encouraging, and really good group of riders. I had fun through much of the course. The spectators were amazing; out there cheering us on despite the weather. It also helped that I had decided to not push the ride real hard. I rode the entire course at 70/75% NP so I just felt good. And all too soon I reached Snow Canyon State Park, the part of the ride I had been most concerned with.

Snow Canyon picture from a few days before the race. Absolutely beautiful!

I entered the park and began to climb. It’s a fairly steady climb but the grade doesn’t really get bad until the end. Again, I loved all of the women around me. We laughed and joked and sang and kept moving forward. I kept waiting for the “bad part” and it never came! All at once I was at the top. I had trained so well over the summer that my biggest fear of the entire course had been fine.

I turned out of the park and began a 9 mile descent back into town and the run transition (T2). Suddenly storm #2 hit. Driving rain and 20-30 mph crosswinds smacked me sideways as I tried to pedal down the sharp descent. I immediately sat upright on my bike and took it easy. I was amazed at the women who flew by me in aero position like it was no big deal, but that would not be me. I made it to transition ready to get off my bike.

The rain let up while I was in T2 and I started the run which was all uphill for around the first 3.5 miles. I felt okay and began to run along when suddenly I saw my husband, my coach Nicole, and friends all cheering me on. It was so great to see them! My husband ran with me for a bit asking how I was and then I waved goodbye to them, revived.

The run was as I thought it would be, a slow slog up the steepest section to a beautiful view of St. George far below us. Again, everyone was so encouraging to each other. I made use of way too many aid stations just so I had an excuse to walk a bit (I’ve never been so hydrated!). I reached the top and began the steep run downhill. My husband, coach, and friends were there on the downhill and they asked how I felt. “My poor toenails!” I yelled as I headed down the 11% grade. I reached the turnaround point and did the entire run again; albeit a little slower this time up that hill. The sun was out in full force now, the storms long gone, and it was hot.

Before I knew it I was running towards the finish line. I had done it! I crossed the finish line with my arms held high feeling good. It had been the craziest race I have ever done weather-wise, but all in all a great race. I finished with a time and place in my age group that I feel good about and am happy to have never felt miserable.

One of my favorite parts of the 2021 Ironman 70.3 St. George has been listening and reading about everyone’s experiences. We are always advised to run our own race, and nothing has ever been more accurate. Every single person on that course hit the storms in a different location and had a very unique race based on where they were. Yet, for the most part, we all persevered and are stronger for it and have memories and great stories that we will all be telling for years!

The loneliest spot on earth

“Mono Lake lies in a lifeless, treeless, hideous desert, eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is guarded by mountains two thousand feet higher, whose summits are always clothed in clouds. This solemn, silent, sail-less sea–this lonely tenant of the loneliest spot on earth –is little graced with the picturesque. “

– Mark Twain

My first glimpse of Mono Lake was late at night. We had just driven up and over Sonora Pass, which had opened for the season a few days earlier. The road had been descending out of the snow covered mountains for quiet awhile when I caught a glimmer out of the corner of my eye. I glanced out of the window and saw nothing but thick darkness. A few minutes later we rounded a bend and there far below us was a glistening moonlit lake. The road continued down and ran alongside the lake. From this viewpoint the lake seemed to go on forever and it was impossible to tell where it began or ended. Then we rounded another curve and it was gone and we were left to stare into the inky blackness of night.

A few days later we made it back to Mono Lake, this time in daylight. Even in the light, we still felt a moment of surprise to round a corner and come upon the lake. A shimmering mirage in the middle of a dry, dusty landscape.

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Cairo, IL- the most desolate city in the US

We’d been one step ahead of the storm for a while.  Dark clouds piled high behind us, lighting streaking between them, as we sped on heading home.  It was late afternoon when I slowed the car as the road cut through a small city.   Or rather, what once was a city.  The wind picked up and large raindrops fell, splashing onto the windshield, adding to the moodiness as we drove through the town.  

Huge letters on a bridge announced to us that we had entered a city named Cairo.


I’ve always been fascinated with locations on the edge of something.  Places that just don’t seem to fit in anywhere or rather, maybe, are the beginning or end of the line.  Cairo (pronounced “Care-O” by locals) Illinois feels this way to me.  Cairo is just barely in Illinois.  It’s located on a small spit of land clinging to the bottom of Illinois and is bordered by Missiouri on one side and Kentucky on the other.  It’s also just barely out of the water with the lowest elevation in Illinois and is located at the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers.  All of this makes Cario feel cut off from the world.  Not really belonging anywhere.

We drove into the center of town to its Main Street, Commercial Ave.  Something was not right.  The street was empty; abandoned.  Buildings here were in various stages of decay, crumbling in on themselves as weeds consumed them from the outside.  Many buildings were just gone, nothing more than an empty lot.  


The wind picked up, sending a whirlwind of leaves and litter across the street. A pack of dogs ran by, chasing the blowing garbage into an empty lot. But other than those dogs, there was no one around.  All was eerily quiet.  How could a town that was once obviously thriving become a virtual ghost town?  

Cairo was once a bustling town.  It’s location made it an important city in the Civil War where it was used as a supply base and training ground for the Union Army.  After the war it became an important steamboat port, then a hub for railroad shipping.  Mark Twain, in his book The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, even portrayed Cairo as the town Huck and Jim were headed to where Jim would be safe.  Cairo was soon an important , wealthy city of 15,000.


Then the steamboats stopped running.  Bridges were built to reroute railroads, and later autos, away from Cairo.  And there was always the water.  Despite levees and flood walls built to protect the city against seasonal flooding, the water kept overtaking the city.  Numerous floods have devastated the city throughout the years.  Jobs, then people left.


Racial tensions have been a major problem as well.  There were a number of lynchings in the late 1800s-early 1900s.  In the mid-1960s, the alleged police murder of a young black soldier led to protests and riots, and the National Guard was even called in.  In response to perceived threats from the black community, the white community formed a civilians’ militia called the White Hats (wow, does that name sound like something else?!!!).  Of course, that just made everything worse and more people left Cairo.  You can read more about Cairo’s history here.


The final blow was the creation of Interstate 57 across the Mississippi in the late 1970s. There was now no reason to enter Cairo. Hotels closed, restaurants followed, and soon even the hospital shut down.  Poverty skyrocketed and the population continued to dwindle. Cairo has, I think, the highest population drop of any city in the United States.


  I’ve read that that there are efforts to revitalize Cairo.  There’s so much history there, but I don’t know.  The jobs are gone.  The population has fallen to less than 2,400.  Poverty and a poor education system plague the town.  How do you recover?  Looking at pictures online you see that more and more buildings disappear each year.  The only tourists seem to be people like us, driving through, gawking at the devastation.  Snapping those pictures.  


But, I think the pictures show a certain beauty.  The architecture of many of the buildings is amazing.  Details you just don’t see today.  And there’s beauty in the abandoned and overgrown.  I think that you can feel more in an abandoned building.   These buildings literally expose, layer upon layer, their history.  The good, the bad, the changing world; all there revealed in the decay.  You just get a feel of how much has gone on in the building when you see it crumbling and slowly being overtaken by nature.


Before we left Cairo we drove down to Fort Defiance Park (a military fortification during the Civil War).  We walked up an overlook at stared out at the rivers.  The exact place where the Ohio and Mississippi met and became one was very obvious.  The waters slammed into one another and continued the flow south now as one; the mighty Mississippi.  Always moving forward, fast, stopping for nothing.

A bolt of lightning suddenly hit near us lighting up the murky evening bright as day.  

It was time to go.  Time to move on.

moving to nashville

It was time for a change; something different. It’s so easy to get stuck in a rut, letting life go by doing the same things in the same place. It was time to break free.

So we have moved to Nashville! It’s the result of a year plus of research and planning. It should just be a better quality of life all around.

But moving is never easy! It can be a pain and has definitely been for us. We’re more or less settled in now, or at least as much as you can be in a tiny apartment (our house hasn’t sold yet- know anyone who wants a great house in N NJ?). It’s what happened leading up to the move that was…um…an adventure.
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what do totem poles and cat statues and dragons have to do with the amish?

“I am not a tourist”.  This is my main statement in the About section of this blog.  I prefer to dig deep and really get to know a location.  Look beyond the chain restaurants and gift shops that pop up in well traveled places.  Travel to any natural wonder in America and next to it you’ll find mini golf and go carts and ice cream stands.  It’s as if the beauty of the Grand Canyon is not enough.  We need man-made forced fun to truly be entertained.
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Yet no place is more bizarre to me in its relationship with tourism than Lancaster, PA…Amish Country. 
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adventure on snake hill

The space between Christmas and New Years was gloriously empty! Nothing on the calendar, just empty days waiting to be filled.  So I decided it was time to take the kids on a little adventure.   But, our outing ended up with a little more adventure than I attended it to!

Secaucus, New Jersey.  Located in Hudson County just miles from New York City, it’s not exactly the wilderness.  Yet it is located within the New Jersey Meadowlands, a large area of wetlands.  Our destination was not the marshes that surrounded the town nor one of the factories that we passed.  Our destination was Snake Hill (aka Laurel Hill or Graffiti Hill or Fraternity Rock), a massive hill of diabase rock jutting 150 feet into the sky from the banks of the Hackensack River.  It’s a familiar sight to anyone who travels the NJ turnpike as it protrudes out over the eastern spur of the turnpike.

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the dreaded kid’s birthday party…or why my parties will ever make a pinterest board

My first mistake was opening Pinterest.  During my morning workout I suddenly remembered that I had not planned any games for my daughters 5th birthday.  A birthday party that was going to happen that afternoon!  So I cut my workout short (yea, an excuse) and went to Google “mermaid games”.  What appeared on the screen in front of me made me realize that 1) a mermaid party theme must be a common request for a  5 year old girl and 2) I was failing at the birthday party component of parenting. Continue reading “the dreaded kid’s birthday party…or why my parties will ever make a pinterest board”

a little dirt never hurt: a mud run for kids

It was early morning and the day was already warm.  I walked around the empty field, enjoying the stillness of the morning, yet nervous because everything had to be perfect.  I looked down and breathed a sigh of relief because of what I saw in front of me.  Soupy, wet, thick mud.  Perfect!

It all started when I convinced a bunch of my friends that we should sign up together for a mud run.  A mud run, in case you don’t know, is a race involving obstacles and, of course, mud!  These are extremely popular events right now!  In just 2 years these events have gone from 41,000 participants to 1.5 million! Most events are for adults only or have a kid version of the event before the actual event, but I realized there are virtually no for kid only mud runs.  And who loves mud and obstacles more than kids?  I decided to change that and create a kid’s mud run! Continue reading “a little dirt never hurt: a mud run for kids”

867 stairs down into history

Over Spring Break we took a trip to the Smoky Mountains.  In order to break up our 12 hour drive, we stayed a night in Fayetteville West Virginia and spent the next day exploring the area.  Fayetteville is a quirky little town that is home to the New River Gorge Bridge which is the longest arch bridge in the US and, at 876 feet above the New River, the 3rd tallest.

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how to break free from average (it might involve punching fear in the face)

What is that one thing that you’ve always wanted to do?  Always wanted to accomplish or be “when you grow up”?  We all have something.

There is some dream that you think of every once in a while.  You bring out the dream, maybe a long-lost childhood desire, and look at it.  You turn that dream over and over in your mind, studying all sides of it, and you smile so tempted to bring it out in the open.  But then you remember.  You remember that you are now an adult with commitments, a family, a mortgage, and a job.  So, once again, you shove that dream way back into the recesses of your mind, determined not to think about it again. Continue reading “how to break free from average (it might involve punching fear in the face)”