Ohio 70.3

Two years ago, when I DNF’d at Muncie, I had already signed up for Ohio, which was to take place only a few weeks later. Feeling defeated and not wanting to risk another failure, I opted out of Ohio and thought my Muncie 2015 experience would be my only 70.3. When Ericka expressed an interest this past year in completing a half-Ironman, however, I thought I’d take another swing at it and hoped to finish faster than my 8:00:15 time just three years before.

After Ericka, Karen and I traveled the 3.5 hours and had visited the Athlete Village, checked in our gear and bike, eaten a nice carbo-loaded dinner and gotten settled in for the evening, I received my second video chat from John in Nashville. After trying to figure out a way to make it work for months, I had accepted the reality that because of his dad duties and work schedule he would not be able to come to Delaware to watch me race. Little did I know, he had been plotting with Karen and Ericka for weeks to do just that. Of course, I was completely surprised and in shock at this news, which didn’t help my sleep that evening – knowing that he would be driving through the night, staying at a rest area to catch some shut-eye, and meeting us at the start as closely to 4:30 a.m. as possible. Somehow, he was able to assure me that it wasn’t a big deal, and to expect to see him in the morning.

After a restless night of sleep and 3:00 a.m. wake up call, I was still super groggy as I made my way to that first potty of the day only to find that things were not all well in the GI department. Although I do get nervous prior to tri’s, there was a distinct difference between anxious jitters and whatever was going on with my bowels that morning. My stomach was NOT in a good way, and I could only conclude that it must’ve been the chicken parmesan from the previous evening. Still, I put on my race gear hoping that as the morning went on the discomfort would pass and I would start to feel better.

Arriving at the start, I went back and forth between setting up my T1 area, hitting the potty, and checking on John’s location. The parking area was starting to fill up and I was concerned that he might have a hard time finding a spot if he arrived later than expected. Finally, around 5:00 a.m., after receiving his call, I found him in the crowd and promptly sat on the curb with my head on his shoulder and tears streaming down my face as my stomach didn’t feel any better than it did that morning. My hope was that this would turn out to be either pre-race tummy or a temporary stomach issue, but as the time to take off on the swim drew closer, neither was proving to be true. I spent the next few hours trying to talk myself out of throwing in the towel, debating the worst-case-scenario, and envisioning another DNF and having to tell everyone that knew I was racing that I couldn’t make it happen because of something that was totally out of my control.

John and I made one final trip to the car to grab my swim gear and make our way to the swim start with Karen and Ericka in tow. The way I was moving, you would’ve thought this was a death march more than a swim start, but as uncomfortable and uncertain as I felt, I thought that I would at least start the race and see what happened.

We placed ourselves in the 50-55 minute finishers group, and chit-chatted with some other athletes waiting to get into the water. Karen had gotten a VIP pass, for which she had an extra wrist-band and selflessly gave it to John. This meant they had a front row seat to the swim start and finish, which they took full advantage of with lots of pics and video. As our time to submerge drew nearer, I prepared to wet my goggles one last time for a good seal before taking off on a sweet freestyle for the next 1.2 miles. The water was warmer than I expected, which was a nice surprise even after knowing that it was not wetsuit legal. I proceeded to walk out as far as I could before dunking under, and set off to finish the first of three portions of the race. Unfortunately, the universe had different plans.

After the set of goggles, I had been using all summer began taking in water, I bought a new pair and had had great results from them so far. For whatever reason though, they also began to leak after just a few strokes in the lake. I was so aggravated at this realization but thought that they just weren’t one properly or tight enough so I gave it another try. Nope – same thing. In all, I tried adjusting this contraption 3-4 times before I gave up and decided to get through the entire swim with a breast stroke – a style of swimming I had not practiced all season; this would be interesting. Upon realizing how much slower I was going than my freestyle counterparts, I thought more than once that I was going to end up on a kayak with a DNF on my hands. Rounding the first buoy I checked to see that it had taken me a full 22 minutes to go this short distance. I thought for sure I would miss the 1:10 cutoff time but muddled on just the same.

At the second turn buoy I checked my watch once more, for certain that I was coming up on an hour and tried to figure out how I was going to explain to people that I wasn’t able to finish yet another 70.3. When I saw that I was at 44 minutes, I knew there was still hope, and that I could possibly make it to the finish in time. I tried to pick up my pace as much as I could, and even gave freestyle one more try before realizing that it just wasn’t going to happen and I was wasting more time draining the water and gaining my composure again than what it was worth.

Making the final turn to “swim out,” I mustered as much strength as I could and brought it home. As soon as my feet were able to touch the ground, I stood up and checked my watch: 1:05. I had missed the cut-off by just 5 minutes. This meant that I could still attempt the bike and the run to finish, but that my chances of a PR went way down as I finished 15 minutes slower than in 2015. At this point however, the only thing I cared about was that I was able to keep going. My stomach had finally started to feel better, most of my nerves had been worked through, and I was ready to get on the bike for a smooth, flat 56-miler.

John and Karen were a sight for sore eyes and definitely kept my spirits and motivation up as they yelled for me from the sidelines. Ericka had gotten out of the water prior to me and was already on her way with the bike. My focus, however, was just getting on my gear and heading towards the “bike out,” inflatable to keep this show on the road – literally and figuratively. My adrenaline was pumping now and, unfortunately, this showed on my bike early on as I was pulling out a 19.9 mph for the first 5 miles, and then 18.5 mph for the second five miles. I knew when I saw this speed that I needed to slow down or I was sure to bonk. This was exactly what happened in Muncie in 2016 – I went out way too fast, and between my speed and the headwind, I wasn’t able to make it past mile 40. After getting through my stomach issues this morning as well as my goggle snafu on the swim, the last thing I wanted was to lessen my chances of finishing due to something I actually COULD control. I backed off a bit but kept at around 16 mph as much as I could, determined to beat my Muncie bike time.

The course was described as flat, and boy was it ever! Anyone who knows me in a triathlon capacity knows that I despise hills, so you would think that this course would be perfect for someone like me. Well, it is…. until you realize that you are pedaling continuously for 56 miles without an opportunity to simply coast at all. Still, I would much rather have a flat course that rolls out my legs than constant hills to contend with. Plus, although it was fairly desolate as far as spectators and support goes, it was a pretty course with lots of country scenery to take in.

Because triathlon is such an individual sport, there’s lot of time to think, which isn’t always a good thing. True to form, I did lots of math in my head trying to figure out how many miles I would need to be 1/3 of the way done with the course. Then half-way done and so forth. Simply getting to that 40-mile marker was my mental goal (See: Muncie DNF), which also meant only one more hour on the bike. I had mentioned to John and Ericka recently that my body doesn’t enjoy biking past 35 miles, and this was no less true during this race. It was right around this time that I started to feel myself slow down, both mentally and physically, as I counted down each and every mile until the end. My shoulders and neck were stiff and sore; I had already begun to sit straight up with my hands on my elbow pads just to get a little bit of a stretch – not the most aerodynamic position. At this point, I was going to do whatever it took to make it to the end of the bike course.

Thinking back to the stomach issues of the morning, I knew that I was probably dehydrated, if not well on my way to being. I tried to take in as much water and Infinit as I could on the bike, as well as some pretzels, but despite all this I felt weak and a little light-headed as I rounded the last corner into the stadium. Luckily, John and Karen were both there to greet me and cheer me on in my exhaustive state, as I dismounted and walked my bike at a pace that would’ve made a snail proud. I still wasn’t 100% sure at this point that I would even begin the run, so who was I to care about my T2 time? Luckily, somewhere between sitting my butt on the astroturf and actually lacing up my shoes I decided to give it a shot. I wasn’t sure exactly how much time I had left before the 8:30 cutoff, but I thought I at least had a chance if I could stay upright and keep moving forward. My only regret looking back as I started off on my third and final leg, was that I didn’t take in anymore liquid before heading out. I wasn’t sure my body was going to allow me to run the intervals I had planned, but without something to drink I wouldn’t be running at all – at least until the first water stop.

As I hooked a left out of the stadium I saw John and Karen once again, up ahead on the left. It’s amazing how much someone yelling your name and cheering for you can bring a smile to your face and some pep in your step, no matter how small those steps may be. My biggest smile, however, came when I saw that John had made a sign that read: “My girlfriend is a bad a$$! Go Connie!” Although he had said these words to me many times before, there was something about reading it, in print, during the course of this emotional and exhausting day that made that moment for me!
As I continued on, keeping my eyes peeled for that first water stop, I realized that I may actually pull this off - poop and goggles be damned! And when I finally did get a little liquid in me, it was just what I needed to attempt a little jog to at least get SOME intervals into the run. After just a mile and a half onto the course, runners take a left to get through the first of two loops. I prefer this, as I know what to expect the second time around, and since the bulk of the course was on these loops, there wasn’t a lot of long stretches without turning – something that becomes mundane after a bit.

I tried as much as I could to get into some sort of a 1:1 rhythm, but as tired as I was and being certain that I had plenty of time to finish, I didn’t want to push it too hard and not have anything left for the end of the race. I played with how much and how often I wanted to run, and finally settled on a 4-minute-walk and 1-mile-run plan that suited me just fine. It was long enough of a walk to give me a break, but not so long that I couldn’t get right back into a run when needed. Some folks were on their second loop, while a lot of us were just starting the first. Amazingly, this did not impact me at all. I can sometimes, and mostly do at some point, get into a pretty negative and defeated headspace during endurance races. So, I was pleasantly surprised when I recognized that that was not happening this time around. I mean sure, I did have some struggles during the last portion of the bike, and I wanted to quit many times but, overall, I felt pretty positive and even chatted with some fellow athletes throughout my last leg.

With only a mile and a half left to go I began conversing with a gal who is also from Louisville. She had been walking the entire portion of the run, and was going at a pretty good clip, so I thought keeping company for a while would be a nice change of pace (again, both literally and figuratively). It certainly kept my mind off the last mile for the most part, and when John appeared once more with ¾ of the race left, she took advantage of his kindness and got some finishing times for a few of her friends out on the course.

John informed me that I had approximately 30-minute to finish this last mile. Not to be too cocky or anything, but I could have probably crawled it at this point and still made the cut-off. He soon left me to head back into the stadium and set up for a sweet finishing video, as I trotted along, picking up my pace from time to time, getting increasingly more excited as I heard the announcer and the crowd from inside. As I rounded the last corner leading to the finishers chute, I fell into a near-sprint as I made my way to the end of this awesome day. Crossing that finish line, I was so excited to be completing my second 70.3 Ironman. Many hours of training, sacrificing, and tiring days were put into this accomplishment, and I couldn’t have done it without my amazing boyfriend/Sherpa, John, as well as the greatest cheerleader ever, Karen. Of course, my training partner and ride-or-die, Ericka, has to be mentioned as we struggled through countless hours of training together, and pushed each other to do the best that we could.

As great as this accomplishment feels, I don’t see myself doing another half-Ironman distance triathlon. The training alone takes so much out of me, and I mentioned more than a few times leading up to this weekend that I was most looking forward to getting my life back. Crushing Tri Louisville last month is a good indication that sprints and Olympics are my favorite distance, so I think I’ll be sticking with them from now on. If anything, I’ll make a great Sherpa for those friends that choose to go on to those longer distances – after all, I had the greatest teachers this weekend!

Congrats to all finishers who pulled it out this weekend! So many Landsharks were out there cheering us on, supporting one another, and giving that course hell. I love this sport for so many reasons – the most of which is the comradery that I feel between these awesome athletes! Oh, and this didn't end up being a PR for me. As great as the experience was, I missed it by just under 6 minutes - and I'm perfectly okay with that.