Appalachian Trail - Approach Trail to Hawk Mountain (long)

Preparation
I had been toying with hiking parts of the Appalachian Trail over the past 6-9 months, and eventually made a plan to do so the first week of April after making a reservation at the Hiker Hostel. I had been feeling antsy about not having a true vacation since October, and felt the need to “get away from it all,” during the four days and three nights I was planning to spend in the woods. Although my plan was to go it alone, I knew that with it being prime thru-hiker season I would run into other folks out there. I was prepared for what the trail would bring in terms of elevation, length, foliage and other things that are a given when you go out on a multi-day hike, but nothing could have prepared me for the camaraderie I would experience with the other hikers I spent hours upon hours with on this great journey of mine.

I got into town about 4:45p.m. on Sunday and got settled in. I had reserved a private room as I find it difficult to sleep in strange places, and sharing a bunk room with strangers wouldn’t have made the night any easier. The problem with this set up is, as the bunk-mates are talking amongst themselves, getting to know one another, and trading trail “war-stories,” I was pretty much on my own. I would pass by on my way out the back door to sit and read or journal, attempting in my socially awkward way to engage in conversation with a slight “hi,” or statement about the upcoming rainy weather, but nothing really stuck. It wasn’t until I resolved to make my way up to my room for the last time that I ran into Jay, a 25-year-old kid from Long Island who was preparing for his thru-hike the following day. We made pleasantries then decided to sit outside for a bit shooting the breeze. We struck up a conversation that lasted about an hour – he was intelligent, easy to talk to, and optimistic about his upcoming 5-month journey, regardless of his ill-preparedness. The night wore on and, admittedly, I was more concerned about catching the season finale of The Walking Dead than I was about the continued talk, so I made my way up to my room at 9:00 p.m.

After the show, I took a few melatonin to prepare for a restless night’s sleep. I take melatonin anyway, but in an odd setting with an upcoming adventure that was already causing some anxiety, I definitely needed a dose. I turned a guided imagery meditation on and tried to relax as much as possible before a 7:00 a.m. wake-up call. I woke several times during the night, and tried to deduce what exactly was making me so antsy. The forecast of rain was probably one, as being one who despises the rain to begin with, the thought of hiking 8.8 miles through it was not appealing. The fear of the unknown also crept in as I didn’t know what to expect. I had never been on the trail before, and I didn’t know what terrain or elevation to expect. Yes, I knew it was hilly, but just how hilly had yet to be seen. And the overnight stay…..sheesh. I hadn’t been camping since I was a kid, and that was just car camping. This was full on backpacking in the backcountry with no civilization around. What would THAT be like?

I made my way down to breakfast after a quick shower where I ate very little due to nerves. I began making more and more acquaintances with the other folks headed out that morning. I was the only section hiker. I was in awe of the number and types of people that were planning on thru hiking – a father/daughter duo from Texas. A single gal from Ireland as well as a Frenchman. A couple of guys from Chicago as well as a middle-aged guy from Texas. There was Tim from New Hampshire with a wife and kid back home. I wondered what their stories were – what compelled them to want to come out and hike 2,000+ miles over a 5-month period? How did they prepare? How did they handle the responsibilities of life back home?

At 8:30 a.m. we all packed into a van. Most hikers were starting at Springer Mountain, while four of us opted for the Approach Trail. The Approach Trail is technically not part of the AT – it’s merely the 8.8 miles you can choose to do to get to the AT rather than being dropped off at Springer Mountain, hiking out 1 mile and then backtracking that same mile to continue the journey on the other side of the parking lot. I’m not sure why, but for some reason the extra 8.8 was more appealing to me than the one-mile backtrack. Maybe because I didn’t want to cover the same ground twice, even though it would have been easier to do so. After our 30 minute care ride and getting signed into the register, Tim took off right away, after getting a quick picture of himself under the arch - a pretty standard photo for those beginning their hike here. Me, Jay and a gal named Christy began together as we headed out on this drizzling, foggy morning together.
Approach Trail to Black Gap

Although it was rainy, it was fairly warm once we got started and I quickly shed my rain jacket to reveal shorts and a t-shirt under my 35-pound pack. The start was pretty gorgeous, if difficult, as we made our way up the infamous 600 steps that surround the waterfall. Multiple flights of stairs at the start of a multi-day hike is an interesting way to start the journey to say the least. Christy took off shortly after we got started, as Jay and I had to stop for a few breaks here and there to catch our breath as well as a few photo ops. I didn’t want to merely get the miles in – I wanted to experience them as well.

More than a mile after our start, we finally finished the stairs and got onto the terrain of the trail. The rain was still coming, but I remained in good spirits with Jay at my side. We continued to talk and get to know one another – each revealing inconsequential but telling things about one another. I told him that I could tend to be pessimistic at times, and that the rain could hamper my mood if I let it. He assured me that he wouldn’t let that happen as the miles continued on and the rain came down even harder at times. We ran into “just Steve,” about 2 miles into our hike – a 43 years-young military veteran who was trying his hand at a thru-hike for the second time after he had to get off the trail last year due to an injury. He was pleasant enough, although his company was short-lived as he soon out-paced us and went on his way.

Luckily, Jay and I were paced very similarly and kept in cadence with one another throughout this section of the trail. This came in handy for me when the wind picked up, the thunder and lightning came rolling in, and the temperature dropped. At around 5 miles in I got pretty close to miserable no matter how optimistic I tried to remain. I stopped once to get my rain pants and jacket on – if nothing else than to block the wind and try to keep warm rather than dry as I was already soggy and soaked to the bone. My teeth chattered as we stopped once more while Jay collected some water to filter out of a puddle. We had been looking for a water source for quite some time and he refused my offer to take some of what I had in my bladder – I certainly wasn’t drinking much at this point as the temperature was keeping me cool. Jay tried to take my mind off of things as we continued to talk and I kept track of the miles ticking away on my Garmin. The plan was to make it to the Springer Mountain Shelter, 8.8 miles ahead of the Approach Trail.

At 7.4 miles in we stumbled upon what we later found out was Black Gap Shelter. I first saw the structure in the distance to our left as I asked Jay, “what’s that?” We decided to check it out and, after saying our hellos to the three occupants, it didn’t take me long to decide that this is where I would be planting myself for the night. I was cold, wet and tired and did not want to go another mile and a half in the weather. Jay was a little more apprehensive as he wanted to go a bit further on his first day, however, he succumbed to the idea of dropping anchor at Black Gap after I began setting up my tent.

I had only just practiced setting up my tent two days before in the front yard of my condo. I had even gotten inside, laid down for a few seconds to get a feel for it, before scooting out once again to take it all down. I didn’t realize just how compact it was until I got into it for the second time with all of my gear, rain beating down outside with no dry escape. Having hiked for a mere 4 hours and 15 minutes, it was only 2:00 p.m. or so when we decided to stop. I would be stuck in this tent for the next 8 hours or so until I was ready to fall asleep. These were the thoughts going through my mind as I was close to having my first panic attack in the middle of the woods with four strangers hunkered down nearby. I turned on my phone to see if I could get a signal, fully planning to call the Hiker Hostel to have them come pick me up at the Springer Mountain parking lot in another hour or two. I was willing to walk the extra distance in this weather if it meant I could get out of this tent and into a warm, dry situation. Alas, the phone showed no coverage whatsoever and I was stuck. I sat there for another minute or two telling myself, “I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” before I finally made my way out of the tent once more. I walked over to the Shelter and told the foursome inside that there was no way I could stay in that tent tonight, that somewhere along the way I had become claustrophobic and I had to get out of there. Jay was already in dry clothing, having accepted his stay here for the night, as Casie and Nicole insisted that I stay in the shelter with them. I gladly accepted.

Into warm clothing I went and my attitude increased by 113%. It’s amazing what a little warmth and dryness can do for your mood. Jay had decided he was going to try to build a fire, despite the rain, and he, Nicole, Casie and Matt began collecting branches. Matt was a fresh-out-of-high-school 19 year old who had decided to do a thru-hike on his own this year. Smart and soft-spoken, he was from Madison, Indiana just an hour or so North of Louisville. He was eager to pitch in and help out and I liked him right away.

Nicole and Casie were recent college grads from Bangor, Maine – home of my favorite author Stephen King. They were energetic, funny, and full of optimism about their thru hike together as best friends, stating they had been wanting to experience this journey for a while before they had to settle down into the “real world,” with jobs and responsibilities. I admired their attitudes and positivity.

After a few hours of trying to get the fire going, it got to the point where it maintained on its own and we were all able to sit back and enjoy it. I made a package of instant mashed potatoes with tuna on the Jet Boil and shared it with Jay, as it was too big of a portion for me to eat on my own. Pretty soon, three other hikers came along to have a rest and warm themselves by the fire. After a trek in the other direction to grab some water, they too decided to hang it up for the day. The rain had stopped at this point and it was starting to feel a little warmer outside. The soggy, windy climb on that Approach Trail had clearly gotten to everyone who had experienced it that day, and we all enjoyed the calm after the storm – both literally and figuratively.

One of our three new friends, Jason, had his dog Bee Gee with him (short for Big Goof it would later be told). Jason was planning a thru-hike himself, and his two friends were along for the ride in a show of moral support for his first three days on the trail. They were from Chicago, and Jason was a veteran who suffered from PTSD – Bee Gee was his service dog along to help with his mental ailment. The three of them lit up cigarette after cigarette and there were comments and conversation centered around how difficult it must be to hike as a smoker – they all three agreed but weren’t quite ready to give it up just yet. He may surprise me, but it appeared that Jason had already resigned to giving up his hiking experience quicker than he initially planned. When we headed out the next morning, we never saw him or Bee Gee again.

Soon after, a duo of young guys showed up – also from Maine. They spent most of the night conversing with Nicole and Casie as they were all from the same state. One of them had brought a plastic “Hula girl” as his luxury item, although I never quite got the full story behind it. Jay, Matt and I tended to do our own thing whether it was setting up our spots to sleep, noshing on some food, joining in the conversation from time to time, or spending a few minutes journaling our experiences thus far. In the meantime, we were also busy trying to get our clothes dried out on the make-shift clothesline Jay had created above the fire. Not one of us was looking forward to putting on wet clothes in the morning – even though they would most likely be dried out soon after we began our trek with the 70-degree forecast rolling in the next day.

As nightfall came, so did the suggestion of sleep as each of us fell into our prospective places of slumber. The latecomers had their own tents or hammocks set up, as Matt, Jay, Casie, Nicole and I shared the shelter. This would be my first experience in a structure such as this, but it was dry and sturdy which was all that I could wish for at that point. I went through my nightly routine, including emptying my bladder through the Shewee one more time before crawling into my sleeping bag for another restless nights sleep. (For those who aren’t familiar, a Shewee is a plastic funnel that was created so that women can pee standing up. You simply hold it against your vulva, empty your bladder, and the stream runs out through the attached tube – much like a penis. It really is the best alternative to squatting, no matter how much I got made fun of for having this contraption on the trail. It became known as my personal luxury item.)

That first night I didn’t sleep well at all. Lots of tossing and turning despite melatonin and earplugs. At one point I’m pretty sure I felt a mouse creeping around my hand, but I was halfway asleep when I “shooed” it away and was too tired to care. I was plenty warm enough despite having forgotten my fleece in the car, as Jay had given me a jacket to wear. I woke up a few hours after going to bed to have to pee. It was crazy foggy and I wasn’t about to walk to the privy alone, so I shewee’d it next to the shelter before crawling back into the sleeping bag. I felt somewhat restrained in the mummy bag that I purchased, but as long as I had a bit of my head sticking out and could feel some air I didn’t feel too claustrophobic.

About 6:30 a.m. I woke up again to a feeling of having to pee and, to my amazement, poo as well. It was still foggy out and the privy was a far enough walk from the shelter that I didn’t want to go. So here was the moment of truth – my first poo in the woods. I couldn’t NOT go, as I was worried about not being able to go for 3 days straight to begin with – having “shy sphincter” and all. So….I hung onto a tree, popped a squat and let it rip. This is probably TMI, but none of the books that I’ve read really talk about this part of the experience. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has trouble going with people around – concern that someone is going to walk up on you at the privy before you’ve had time to truly relax enough to relieve yourself. But… it happened. And in the morning, when the sun was out, I walked back over with my trowel and dug a hole, scooped my creation inside, and covered it up with dirt and a rock. I had become a true backcountry backpacker!

Black Gap to Hawk Mountain

We all got up about 8:00 a.m. and started getting ready for the day. The weather was calling for a dry, warm and sunny hike. Yesterday we froze, today we were gonna sweat. I wasn’t complaining though as the sun has a way of improving my mood and outlook. After a breakfast of oatmeal and hot chocolate, the “original five” as I was now referring to myself, Jay, Matt, Nicole and Casie were on our way. The plan was to go as far as Hawk Mountain 9 miles ahead, and possibly further if we felt up to it given the great weather and potential for storms the next day. A mile into our hike we were all stripping off our clothes and settled on shorts and t-shirts for the remainder of the day. It was a gorgeous day!

Springer Mountain was only a mile and a half from Black Gap and we stopped to take pictures, enjoy the scenery and the company of other hikers – mostly day hike folks who were there for the 2-mile journey out and back for the view. Casie and Nicole went ahead of Matt and I, while Jay was still far behind having stopped for water – we wouldn’t see him again for another couple of miles. Matt and I eventually caught up to Nicole and Casie who had stopped for a nutrition break, and a few miles later I left them all at my heels as they stopped once again. I was trudging along at a good pace, feeling much better than yesterday’s hike through the cold rain, and making good time. I came upon many campers and didn’t feel in danger once. In fact, one of the conversations from the previous night was how many of us were asked if we were carrying a gun on the trail. All of us were in agreeance that “it’s not that kind of thing,” and joked about how much more our pack would weigh were we to carry a weapon. For those who’ve never done it I can promise you, hikers are the most sincere and nicest, gentle people you will ever meet. I didn’t meet one person who gave me the heebie jeebies, and even felt close to many of them after just a few days together.

I came upon a road where a lot of people park and walk to a beautiful waterfall that I would soon come upon. It was at this time that I lost the trail and had to ask a perfectly handsome stranger with good teeth where the trail head was. After pointing me in that direction, I crossed the street and headed up towards Long Creek Falls. I had been hiking by myself for a few miles at this point and took advantage of the photo op at the falls, even though it added another half-mile to my journey. Coming back from the falls I saw that the rest of my crew had caught up with me. Nicole was struggling with some blisters as well as lack of nutrition as she said the “trees look wavy.” After a short break, some food in our belly’s and a refill of bladders, we were on our way once again for the last 2 miles. It was at this point that I decided I wouldn’t be going any further than Hawk Mountain. The next stop was 6 miles beyond that, and I just didn’t have it in me that day. It was nearly 3:00 p.m. and I would have been walking near sundown considering my pace was already slowing considerably. My shoulders and hips were feeling the weight of my pack, and I was looking forward to enjoying the remaining nice weather in a more relaxed state.

Matt decided to throw up his tent in an area .5 miles shy of Hawk Mountain, while the rest of us went ahead. As we laid down our packs we began hearing rumors of worsening weather for the next day. Hail, tornadoes, 80 mph winds and even the possibility of snow. The good thing about being a section hiker rather than a thru-hiker, is you can end your journey anytime you want. Having experienced that terrible weather from the day before, with the cold dampness still fresh in my mind, I opted to get picked up the next morning and call it quits one day ahead of my planned schedule. I was already off my plan and was nowhere near Neel’s Gap. I had experienced a good two days and two nights and was perfectly fine going home with the memories I had collected thus far.

With my newfound plan in mind, I was able to take it easy the rest of the evening, pitch my tent and converse with the two dozen or so additional hikers who were staying at this site. Two of those were 22 and 24 y/o brothers from Wisconsin whom were catching hell for bringing too much weight – namely 4 pounds of tortilla shells, four cans of fuel and, most notably, a gallon jug of water. They didn’t have trekking poles, which is pretty much unheard of for the AT. But… they had made it 15 miles or so their first day so maybe they were onto something. There were multiple solo female hikers, a few couples, and another father/daughter duo who were section hikers and also wrapping it up the next day. There was another Kentuckian, OD (for Old Dude) who talked A LOT. He was the stereotypical Kentuckian that people normally think of – thick accent, coveralls, middle-aged farmer-like fella. Needless to say, the conversation around the table that afternoon and evening was interesting and enjoyable.

I was concerned about the claustrophobia in my tent again, but as I was able to keep the top peeled back to reveal netting that allowed me to look out, I was more comfortable this time around as I lounged for a bit taking in the sunshine after consuming my dinner that evening – fettuccine Alfredo noodles with tuna, combined with Jay’s addition of some dehydrated vegetables. It was delicious. As I made my way back over to the picnic table later that evening, I was told that my given trail name was “Mom.” Since I had quasi adopted Jay, sharing my dinner with him the last two nights and asking questions such as “Are your feet warm enough? Did you get enough to eat? Did you get some breakfast?” it’s no wonder. I find this somewhat ironic as I don’t have a maternal bone in my body aside from taking care of my dog, LB, back home. I guess the trail has a way of bringing out things in you that you didn’t realize were there.

As nightfall came I crawled into my tent and read for a bit before turning off my headlamp and going to bed. I slept much more soundly this evening – possibly because I was alone in the tent and was able to avoid the rustling around of others around me. The temperature was similar to the previous evening and I was plenty warm once again. The weather wasn’t an issue since it didn’t start raining until I was heading out the next morning. The Hiker Hostel shuttle told me they would pick me up at 8:45 a.m. a half mile from Hawk Mountain, and with my 7:20 wake-up call I was packed up and ready to go. I said my good-byes to my original crew, sans Matt, and made my way down the trail as the rain started. As I approached the small parking area there were a few folks waiting around and I was told the shuttle wouldn’t be by until 10:00. That gave me over an hour in the rain – very appropriate to start my hike in the rain, and now end in the rain. I had no qualms or regrets with my decision to get off the trail a day early as I still wasn’t feeling another day in the cold drizzle. Soon, the shuttle carrying hikers to Springer Mountain came back around and we were warm once again. After a short ride to the hostel, I was in my car and on my way home – the trail feeling miles and days away from me now.

I am very much looking forward to my next hike on the AT, which I am planning in June. The Original 5 talked about meeting up wherever they are when I head back out, but that seems like an awful lot of planning considering service is spotty and there’s no guarantee I would know where they were exactly. If I had to guess, I’ll probably pick it back up where I got off, and get as far as I can in another 2-4 day trek. I will say this – I vastly overestimated myself with how many miles I could get in during the day. I was anticipating 10 a day, and ended up with just 7.4 the first, 10.5 the next. I will have to keep in mind how much the weather impacts things my next go round. I will also know better how to pack in the future, as I brought WAY too much food. It’s amazing how little of an appetite you get while out hiking and I brought probably ¾ of what I took out with me back home. Could’ve saved me a few pounds had I planned better. Either way, it was a great experience and I look forward to many more.

Slacking (on the blogging anyway)

Obviously, my last post was after the DNF in Muncie in July 2016, and I haven't been keeping up with the writing as well as I should have. I've completed multiple races since then, for which you can find the results at the right of the page. Some were good, some were not so good, and others were great. Regardless, I've been more into running and hiking this year than biking and triathon, and I'm focusing more on the way I feel during my races rather than time. Is it great to get a PR? Sure - but I feel that there was a two year period there where I was crushing it and I would really need to amp it up in order to continue getting PR after PR. Rather than do this, however, I am enjoying the run itself and just taking it as it comes, hoping to feel good in the end.

Because there have been so many races over the past 9 months that I haven't written about, it would be impossible to do so now as time and other priorities have turned my memory to mush. Suffice it to say, there weren't any that particularly stand out as either great or horrendous in my mind, and there are many more to come. Going forward, I will try to do better at keeping up with the reports, as I will also be adding other adventure reports, such as the Appalachian Trail and other backpacking/hiking excursions I have on the calendar.

Muncie 70.3 - DNF

I went into Muncie, my second 70.3, with a great mindset. I only started getting nervous the day before, but having such an epic race three weeks prior at Tri Louisville, I felt really confident. Besides, this was the same half IM I had done last year so I knew the course and what to expect – no surprises.

Jen and I got into town, went straight to the expo and got all checked in, put the bike on the rack, bought some swag, then made our way to the hotel. I was getting really excited at this point as we drove up to the expo on the running course, which I remembered from last year – this made it real!

After we got all checked into the hotel we decided to go ahead and grab some dinner, opting out of the Landshark dinner I had originally RSVP’d to. Since we were just down the street from the same Italian place I ate last year, and it was still fairly early, I figured we could beat the crowds and take some leftovers with us for later if we got hungry again. Dinner was a pleasant mix of chicken parmesan, salad, mozzarella sticks and a cold beer topped off with a trio of mini desserts. I definitely felt fueled up for the race.

Later that evening in the hotel room I popped some melatonin to try and ensure a decent nights sleep. Taking these at 7:30 meant I was drowsy and ready to nod off about 9:30. I put on a meditation geared towards lessening anxiety, and tried to focus on relaxing so that I could sleep peacefully. I also needed to calm a little bit of nerves I was now getting about the race itself.

The 3:30 wake-up call wasn’t too bad and after a breakfast of oatmeal and some fluids I was ready to go by 4:00. The transition area opened at 5:00, and I knew from last year that the line of cars to park tends to get a bit long, which means less of a chance for ample parking if you get there much later. We pulled in, went straight to transition to get my body marked, set up my spot and meander around the reservoir killing time as we basically had three hours until my swim went off. They announced that the race would not be wetsuit legal, which meant all of us who opted to wear the suit were to start in the very back, going off in the last wave at 8:18. My original swim was 7:59 so this wasn’t much later. Jen and I made our way back to the car to drop off the things I would no longer need for the race and relaxed a bit. I decided to do another meditation in the car just to keep the nerves at bay, and we even napped a little before getting back out about 6:30 a.m.

I grabbed my wetsuit from transition, as the area would soon be closed off, and we made our way to a LONG restroom line. Unfortunately, my urge to go had passed since we waited so long, and I only got a chance to go #1. Because we still had over an hour before my swim wave however, I was eventually able to get some relief about thirty minutes prior to the race, which was a huge weight off my shoulders.

Waiting around usually gets me really anxious before a race. I remember last year at Muncie, the pre-race wait seemed to be the worst for my anxiety and nerves. So much so that I teared up and cried a bit as my wave walked to the swim start. This year, however, I was cool as a cucumber. I would say on a 1-10 scale my anxiety never got above a 2 – it was more the excitement and anticipation of getting ready for a race that I felt great about. I was in a much better headspace this year than last, and I planned to just go out there and do it – no expectations. Of course, my goal was always to beat last years time, but the ultimate is always to “just finish.”

Each swim wave had approximately 30-50 people each. By the time they got to mine however, so many people had opted to wear the wetsuit that we had over 100. This meant a very crowded start. I made my way down to the banks of the lake and was able to relieve myself, once more, before getting into the water (sorry, but I just couldn’t hold it any longer and I REALLY had to go - plus I can't pee WHILE swimming).

The gun went off and I had to walk a few yards before I could completely submerge into the water and get going. That first 300-400 yards were tough as there were so many athletes that I was either passing people (WHAT? I was actually PASSING people on a swim?) or they were mowing me over. I got over to the right side of the buoys to get away from the crowd which seemed to help immensely, but this also meant that my ability to keep a straight line also suffered, and it felt like I was constantly having to pull myself back over to the left to keep from getting too far off course.

I finally got into a good groove although there was a bit of bottle-necking around the first turn, but then it was fairly smooth sailing from that point. I could already tell that the extra body glide I used was helping to keep my arms from chafing from the wetsuit – a huge problem for me last year. I rounded the last turn and headed back to shore, but this proved to be a bit of a pain as this direction takes you right into the sun and it’s hard to gauge where you are at all. I could distinguish direction by only the athletes around me until I could see the outline of a buoy up ahead. I muddled along and was ready to be done with the swim until, finally, I made my way to shore and out of the water. I opted not to have my wetsuit stripped as they had athletes lay on the grass last year and my tri suit got muddy. Since my wetsuit is a little big to begin with, it’s not a problem stripping it off solo anyway, so I just began to take it down as I made my way to T1. I looked down to hit the button on my Garmin to signal that I was done with the swim portion, but something was amiss. According to my watch I had only swam 650 yards, which was obviously not right. “Oh well,” I thought, “I know I swam the full 1.2 and I’ll find out the time later. I’ll just pick it back up on the bike.”

Jen was standing at the sidelines and yelled out that she had Karen and Ericka on Facetime. I was so surprised and excited at this I yelled out “Hi Karen and Ericka, I feel great! I had such a good swim!” I was really feeling some positive adrenaline at that point and the confidence will still high. I had just over a two-minute T1 where I dried off a bit, donned the cycling shoes, gloves and helmet, grabbed and downed a Honey Stinger wafer, and out I went. Again, there was Jen cheering me on! It was so great having a friend there with me this year.

As I made my way to the line to mount my bike a volunteer says, “Hey Landshark.” Attempting to recognize him but unable to place the face I said, “Hey there, how are you?” He says, “Great, how’re you?” “I am fantastic. Really fantastic!” I'm never this cheerful during a race - another sign of my optimistic mindset on this day. Clipped in, I went to hit the Garmin once more to signal the start of the cycling portion but, again, something wasn’t right. I’m not sure if the swim snafu threw me off or what, but I must’ve hit the wrong button as the only screen that came up was one that shows Distance and Time – not the normal cycling screen where I’m able to see my speed. Not wanting to spend any more time in T1 however, I just let it go and went on from there. I think this is where I made my first mistake.

Going along on the bike I determined that, even though I wasn’t going to be able to tell my exact speed, if I hit the mile markers (every 5 miles) in under 20 minutes I was going at least 15mph, which was fine by me. This was possible mistake #2. Since I had little more to go by than feel (and I was feeling so great) I went out too hard and too fast at an 18.2 mph average – something I have never achieved before, and is way too fast for me to maintain for 56 miles. Regardless, I was moving right along on this beautiful and sunny day, which wasn’t shaping up to be too terribly hot with a high of only 82 degrees. If you’re going to do a triathlon in July, 82 degrees is just about the best you can hope for. This was comparable to the weather from last year's race so, again, my continued goal of a possible PR loomed nearby.

I made my way to the portion of the race where you do the two loops and came up on mile marker 10. I remembered from last year that it took a little over 10 miles to get from one end of the loop the other before the turnaround, as I made a note of my mileage. I also remember that at the turnaround, there is a slight downhill, which I was really looking forward to. Being in the last wave of swimmers meant that a lot of folks were already on their second loop as I was beginning my first. Because I was moving right along and even passing some people, I didn’t concern myself with being too far in the back of the pack - another mental game that can creep up on you if you allow it. Up ahead I noticed the cones for the turnaround and was thankful to be about 1/3 of the way done with the bike. That is, until, I hit that turn and the headwind proved to be more brutal than I could have imagined. I didn’t think much of the wind on the way out as it felt like more of a crosswind, and nothing as severe as this. I guess my internal wind sock was off because it was definitely coming straight at me for the second part of the first loop and I felt like I was cycling through mud. I was still going at least 15mph according to the mile markers, but I could also feel myself slowing WAY DOWN from that first 20 miles or so.

At around 25 miles in it began to hit me. Fatigue set in, some slight dizziness began, and my legs were cramping a bit. I re-evaluated my nutrition and realized that I probably wasn’t taking in as much as I should have (mistake #3). I had Infinit in the torpedo, along with two bottles of water and some sport beans. I had been using sport beans during training rides, but always consumed them during a stop, never while riding. I tore open a bag and poured some into my mouth, but between the slightly heavy breathing, exertion and fatigue I found it hard to chew and continue peddling simultaneously. Mental note: consider going back to Gu’s during the cycling portion of the race.

Everything combined, I had to have a bit of a pep talk with myself and say, “Okay, at the next turnaround that headwind is going to go away and you’ll have a bit of a break at that point. Then, when you get to the last turnaround point, you just have to make your way back to transition. At that point you’ll only have 18 miles or so left. You can do this.” I continued along, made another left to begin that second loop and still, my speed remained slower than it had before despite no longer having that headwind. At this point I began wondering if I could even make it that that last turn around, and seriously considered calling it a day right then. The dizziness persisted and I was now having stomach issues. I felt bloated, despite taking only small sips at a time, and when I would bend over into the aero position it made it worse. The legs were still cramping as well. Alas, I did make it to that last turn around and tried as hard as I could to find my way back to T2.

I think I was about 38 miles in when I decided that I couldn’t go on. Even if I finish out the bike, I thought, there is no way I’m going to be able to do that 13.1 mile run with the way I feel. I didn’t want to have the dizziness get worse to the point that I would wreck and really hurt myself, so at the aid station at mile 40 I called it a day. I pulled over and asked the volunteers, “If I decide to DNF is there someone to come pick me up and take me back?” They sprang into action and called SAG support to come and get me. The volunteers were great, making sure I was okay physically, getting me some cold water, and chatting a bit about the race itself before Bob finally came along with his Stranger Danger van and swept me away back to transition, where I spent just a small amount of time in medical sipping on some Gatorade and having my vitals taken by a not-too-shabby looking doctor. Perk!

Unlike last year, when I was having knee pain 6 miles into the run and considering a DNF (managing to finish the race anyway), I was really okay with making the decision to pull out this year. I knew that I had put in the time and effort to train, that my head was in the best place that it could have possibly been, and that a DNF wasn’t the end of the world. My biggest concern after leaving the med tent was finding Jen to let her know that I was okay. When we finally did meet up where she was waiting for me at Bike-In, she said that she had been keeping track of me and talking with race officials about my progress - or lack thereof. The time cut off to finish the bike was coming up, and she was worried that I had gotten a flat or had wrecked and wouldn't make it in time. The last she heard, I was still on the course being escorted in and was 4 miles out. Somewhere along the way I guess wires got crossed because I had been at the race area for probably 20-30 minutes searching for her, not 4 miles out getting escorted in. Luckily my situation wasn’t emergent so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but this is something IM should probably look into in case there is something more important happening in regards to DNF’s or injuries.

I explained to Jen everything that had happened and did so with a calm and positive demeanor. I think I surprised myself with how okay I was with my DNF. This just reiterates to me that it was the right decision, and that listening to my body rather that pushing myself to the point of possible injury was the best call.

On the drive home I pondered whether or not I would toe the line in Ohio in 6 weeks. With the physical discomfort still fresh in my mind, and recalling my ride on the struggle bus in 2015, I had myself convinced for a time that I don’t enjoy this distance and that life is too short to do things you don’t enjoy. By the time I was relaxing and soaking in some recovery sun at the pool the next morning, however, I had already decided that I would compete in the race. Besides it already being paid for, and the hotel room set up, and Sherpas booked, I really want to give the half IM at least one last try and have a really great race before I possibly retire to the sprint and olympic distance. Muncie in 2015 was a milestone as it was my first 70.3 finish, even though I was in a bad place mentally. Muncie in 2016 was one of the best races I’ve ever competed in as far as my mental and emotional state – my body just wasn’t having it. So Ohio….. well, hopefully Ohio will be a combination of a fully trained and cooperative body along with a great mindset that will equal a stellar race.

Tri Louisville

Going into the race today, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The course is a 4-loop bike and 2-loop run – all of which take you around downtown Louisville. I have been training for Muncie/Ohio for a number of weeks now, and I was planning to use this race as a training race to see where I am in all disciplines and to know better what I need to continue to focus on. With anxiety being a bit high the 24 hours prior, and motivation being just “meh,” I showed up and chose to “just finish,” the Olympic distance tri.

Got to the race earlier than I expected, which was probably a good thing considering limited parking and the amount of triathletes that were already there and setting up 1.5 hours before the race was set to go off. I met up with Jenn Porter and we walked to transition together to set up, and then head down to the swim start. Along the way it was great to see so many Landsharks, and to hear words of encouragement and a huge representation of the club.

The swim was a wave start, which is actually what I prefer since there aren’t as many people to bang into and mow me over. Swimming out the first buoy went fine – I mean, you can’t really screw that up much seeing as it’s a straight shot and not too far out. However, after I hooked a left to swim downstream I realized, a little too late, that the “orange,” I was headed towards was not, in fact, another buoy but instead the vest of a kayaker. Whoops. Easy fix. I got back on course and continued to head down to the last turn buoy before navigating my way to Doc’s Cantina.

There were two minor stops I had to make along the way as I took in a bit of water and had to cough it up. And for whatever reason it felt like the swim was going on FOREVER. I remember thinking at one point that I must be nearing the hour mark, so you can imagine my surprise when I got out and stopped my watch at 33:50 – a full 5 minutes faster than my fastest Olympic swim in Knoxville in 2010. Plus, that little detour tacked on almost another .2 miles. Happy to say, I rocked that swim.

If I rocked the swim, then I made the bike my bitch. Headed to T1 I felt great and super confident. I hopped on, spending a mere 2:50 in transition, and made my way onto the course. There weren’t as many turns as I was expecting, and since it was flat it was a very fast course. I was apprehensive about doing the same loop four times, but I actually really enjoyed it. I’m a numbers gal, so when I can tick it off by telling myself “one down, three to go.” Or “okay, just one more of what you just did (two laps down, two to go),” it helps mentally. I kept looking at my watch in disbelief that I was holding about a 17 mph average. Considering I qualify 15 mph as a good day, I was stoked. Finishing up my fourth lap, after seeing and cheering on numerous Landsharks along the course, I came in at 1:25:09 – a 16.9 mph average. (side note: my Garmin registered 23.8 miles rather than 24.8).

Off to the run and to finish this race, I felt good and strong despite wobbly legs. The run segment of a tri is always my worst as I am typically pooped after the bike. I remember thinking this on this bike course in particular, as I was crushing it so hard I was concerned I would have little left over. I started off with a plan to do 3:1 intervals but, alas, the fatigue and heat set in and I ended up planning to run what I could and to attempt to walk no more than one minute at a time. This plan worked really well for me as it kept me going but not feeling overwhelmed as if I couldn’t accomplish the goal. After two loops around the course, I found myself coming in at 1:12:41 – a 12:38 pace (again, I must announce that the run course was only 5.75 miles rather than the full 6.2).

Overall, I was VERY HAPPY with my race. I felt the best I’ve ever felt during and after a triathlon, and didn’t have any negative or self-deprecating talk creep up like I sometimes do. Looking at my results from Rev 3 Knoxville in 2010, I came in a full 38 minutes faster this year than I did 6 years ago – a new PR!

Even though the distance is twice as far (sans the swim) I am looking forward to Muncie in a few weeks. I have a few 60 mile rides planned between now and then, and hope that I can keep up the momentum on that run course as I did for this one (although slow by most triathlete standards, it was a win for me). So happy, again, that I got to see, hear from, and encourage a number of my Landshark friends out on the course today. You guys represented big time!

Run the Bluegrass Half Marathon

This was a race that was not originally on the calendar for 2016. After seeing the medal though, along with the additional bling that comes with running both RTB and KDF, I decided to sign up a few months ago. The weather was definitely chilly to start, but since the sun was shining - giving off a little bit of warmth - it wasn't too terribly bad. I had completed this same race 5 years ago but, since then, they've changed the course. I've been hearing for years now how hilly this race is, and was always curious as to just HOW hilly - since everyone's definition of "hilly" is subjective. And since I'm a total dunce when it comes to reading elevation maps, I couldn't tell you just from looking what to expect.

I did the San Francisco Marathon in 2011 - a race and city known for its hills. San Francisco, however, was a pancake compared to the hills of Lexington. After taking off 10 minutes late due to some traffic issues, it took a while for my toes and fingers to warm up - they were definitely numb for those first few miles. They were calling for some hell-wind later in the day but, luckily for the most part, it wasn't that bad while the race was going on. I planned on doing my 4:1 intervals throughout, and was able to hold to that plan for the first 4 miles or so. The hills started early on (within the first mile) and never let up going forward. I remember at one point thinking that, since this wasn't a planned race, I'd be okay with walking most of it if I chose/had to. The chilly air kept me running forward though and I was keeping an okay pace for the first 5-6 miles.

I had been fighting the urge to pee since the start of the race, and I had hoped it would go away with time and sweat. Unfortunately that wasn't the case and since all porta-pots along the way had a long line I kept trudging along waiting for the right time. At mile 6.5 I just couldn't stand it anymore and waiting in line behind 5 women for the one pot. Even though I wasn't making stellar time, I didn't want to tack on another 5-7 minutes waiting for a restroom, so my impatience got the better of me and I ran behind a tree off the beaten path to cop a squat instead. I was hoping my shy bladder wouldn't get the better of me, but after a little pep talk as well as some concentration on my music rather than who may be spotting me, relief was granted and I was on my way once more.

The strategy for the remainder of the race was anybody's guess. I ran a little, walked a little, and did what I could to get by. My quads and hamstrings were definitely feeling it by this point, but I was happy knowing that I was at least halfway through the race. The hills still weren't letting up and it truly was a rolling course. That is, until mile 9 which greeted us with a huge, steep uphill climb. By this point I had become more than okay with walking up the hills and that's exactly what I did. Rounding the corner I knew I had just a little more than a 5k to go. Again, I ran what I could and don't really remember keeping track of any time intervals on my watch at this point. I wanted it to be over with. About 11 miles in my gal Terri swooped past me with her son as they headed towards the finish line. Just past mile 12 I spotted a guy on bended knee to my left who was proposing to his girlfriend whom he had been running the race with. This view gave me a smile and a ton of us began to clap and cheer as she accepted his proposal. One last turn to the finish line and I was beat. I had to walk just a little bit more, then I could get up the strength to run it in. My goal had become a 2:30 finish and I crossed the line in 2:32 - which was definitely fine by me.

Typically, a week or two after my races I forget about the pain and start asking myself if I'd ever do it again. I stand firm in my decision that, because that bling was so nice and that race was so tough, I'll never do it again. I told Jenn that next years medal would have to be diamond encrusted in order for me to run the course a second time. Considering the hills, I'm pretty happy with my time. It wasn't the prettiest race (pretty meaning my personal race - the scenery was just GORGEOUS!), but I got it done and was able to add #29 to my list. Next up KDF mini in just a few weeks. The flat course will be a welcome site, and the fact that it was my first, and now will be my 30th half marathon, is somewhat sentimental. I'm looking forward to it!

Sluggish

So I've been little more than a slug since the Run the Bluegrass half a few weeks ago. I've been going to a chiropractor for some neck/shoulder discomfort I had been having, however, while I believe the adjustments are working I think the process of getting everything aligned is causing some neck tightness that is new, and the culprit of some nearly-daily headaches. This isn't good. I've been tired, unmotivated, sore, etc. for almost two weeks. I've missed yoga for the past week and a half and find myself muddling through my OTF workouts. I do believe that a big part of this is the ongoing battle to get my home closed and move into the new condo - a process that has been going on for 5 months now. And while I (apparently) had a definite close date of April 15th, that got pushed back (once again) to the 22nd. I've been saying for months now that I will not be able to full relax and just breathe until the keys are in hand and I'm all moved in. It's truly been one of the most long-lasting stressful events of my life.

Because I've been feeling so unsettled for the past few months, with half the house packed up and continuously waiting on word from realtors, brokers, loan processors, etc. I haven't even gotten into the pool to truly begin my half Ironman training for Muncie. The only upside to this is that it IS 12 weeks away and since I've been keeping up the running and biking at least I'm not really behind on getting prepared. I was even able to feel some relief when I realized recently that this is the week that I officially began IMLOU training last year (which Muncie was a part of) and that gives me no doubt in my mind that I'll be perfectly fine for the first of two half IM's in July.

A friend recently got onto me for not being in the pool at all this year. My explanation was simple: I am a person who thrives in routine and structure. When everything is in its place, figuratively and literally, I excel and can get a regular routine going and stick with it. When it's not, I just can't. I don't feel settled at all right now since I don't know for sure whether I'll actually be closing in 7 days or not. Since the closing, the move, and the days afterwards will all be a complete cluster f#ck, I can't see myself putting on the calendar a 1500 meter swim. If it's on the calendar, I'll feel the need to do it and will get the guilties if it doesn't happen. If not, I'll feel better knowing that I'm saving it for another day - hopefully when life gets a little more calmed down.

So for now, I keep my fingers crossed in the hopes that this April 22nd date is a go and I can get back to normal living soon after. I'm taking the Monday and Tuesday after off to continue getting things in order in the condo (that is, if I DO move that weekend) because, again, if that place is in disarray my life feels like it's also in disarray. Holding my breath, seeing what happens over the next week. In the meantime, yoga tonight, massage tomorrow, bike ride Saturday and an OTF workout Sunday.

Rodes 10k and PJ 10-miler

The last two legs of the triple crown race were awesome. First, the Rodes 10k:

I met up with Ericka, Karen, Bill, Lisa, Erin and Justin at the start of the race. Gotta give props to Bill who let us park in his garage and hang out inside the office which is right at the start of the race. It was a little chilly that morning for just standing around, but since the weather was slightly overcast with a 50-55 degree temp it called for little more than shorts and a t-shirt which was the perfect pick for that day.

I had no specific time goals going into this race, as it's been for the past six months or so worth of races, but knew that I'd be doing the standard 4:1 intervals. I felt great going out, and took it slow and steady up that first hill at the end of Broadway. Rounding the corner onto Grinstead I had a downhill which was welcoming, as well as an upcoming, gradual climb - which should've been a walk break for me, but since it's hard to get that momentum back once I've started walking I opted to run up it instead. In all, I believe I ran the entire 3rd mile, which my Garmin clearly shows (9:24 pace).

Heading back up Lexington was fine, but I started to feel it a little around the 4-mile mark. I was still taking no more than my normal interval breaks, and with acquaintances along the course to keep me going, I puttered along and was happy to take that last right hand turn onto Broadway for the home stretch. It's amazing how long and drawn out that last mile or so can feel when you're headed straight to the finish with no other turns in sight. I could've walked some that last mile, as I was certainly tired enough and was fairly close to last year's PR, but I just slowed it down a bit and did what I could across the finish. Justin's poster board declaring, "Connie Haxby You Have Won a Lap Dance," certainly helped me cross over the last .1 mile and I had a good chuckle. Finishing time was 1:03:? - about 2-3 minutes slower than last year's time, but I will definitely take it.

The PJ 10-miler was a bit of a different story - at least at the beginning. It's amazing how I can wake up NOT feeling well about a race and have the run of my life and, alternately, wake up feeling great and then bonking soon in. I was afraid that today was going to be the latter as up until 3 miles into the race I just wasn't feeling it at all. Again, no goals other than to finish under 2 hours with the 4:1 intervals. My legs felt heavy, my shins were bugging me a bit, and I honestly thought I would be walking through the park and maybe even the subsequent 4 miles that came after. Luckily, I caught some kind of wind after we entered the park and I was able to maintain the intervals as well as I could. I say that because, once again, I wanted to take advantage of the downhills and continue a slow and steady pace up the hills. My fastest mile was 7, which is right out of the park, at around a 9:34 pace. For the remaining 3 miles I focused on those walk breaks every 4 minutes as I started to feel some small blisters creeping up. But feeling good about where I was and how I was feeling overall, I knew I could come close to last year's PR.

Rounding that last corner I had another poster from Justin: "Connie Haxby Magnificent Man Candy Awaits You." Again, a great chuckle and a nice way to get me through that past .2 to .3 miles to the finish. I came in about 5 minutes under the PR at 1:46:42. Well under the 2 hour goal - so I'll take it.

Next up, Run the Bluegrass half marathon in just 4 days. I did this one about 4-5 years ago before they changed the course. It is now hella-hilly from what I hear (someone counted 34 hills once) so I'm not exactly looking forward to the race, but I AM looking forward to that stellar medal!