Oh Blog - how it has certainly been awhile. It has been a mixture of not having anything to particularly write about -- or maybe just didn't feel like it? and because someone took my blog as a welcoming to stalk my life along with myself. So one restraining order later - this is now private for who I let read it ... which is sad. When I started this, I wanted to not only document my racing journey, but use it as a tool to inspire and motivate the people who come across it.
Anyway. As I write this, I would like to think I'll get back into it - but we have all heard that before, eh? So we shall see. Why now you ask? Because you know I can't stay dormant for too before my mind, body and soul crave some type of adventure or challenge ... or both... each one solidifying a little bit more that I am certifiably insane.
You've been with me as I completed ChesapeakeMan - my first full distance triathlon ... you got a small glimpse of Ironman Texas. You were with me when I broke ... crushed ... my foot as I [kind of sort of] started training for Ironman Florida --- and then I disappeared. Last year I was supposed to do Ironman Maryland but a "hurricane" cancelled it, which was probably for the better because I didn't train for it - like, at all - but I was still going to go for it [circle back to earlier when I said I was certifiably insane]. From that cancellation, though, I pushed my registration to this year, and this year I have actually been training [hoo-rah]. I've noticed though, that the excitement just isn't what it used to be. The "Ironman" brand just doesn't do it for me anymore -whether the races are too big, too mainstream ... or maybe it is something else entirely, I'm not sure. Don't get me wrong, I love the experiences, but it just isn't the same. I had planned on taking a break from long distance after this year ... perhaps some of that excitement would come back -- maybe I just need a break -- but if you know me, you know my mind is all over the place. I'm indecisive and can change my mind 20 times in a second.
Next, let's throw in this 'I'm 30 years old' rut ... the "what am I doing in life" phase. I need adventure. A challenge. I want to do something that many people haven't done. I want to see ... beauty. I just need .... something. I'm not sitting here saying that I'm old .. I'm actually excited to be in my thirties. I think they will be much better then my twenties. I know myself a little bit more, the amount of 'give a fucks' I have has lessened, and I am much better at speaking my mind ... and slowly but surely I am starting to focus on what makes me happy for once.
Anyway, what am I getting at? I am going to blame my glass on wine for letting my fingers go all willy nilly. Let's get back on track.
Welcome back to Run_To_Tri.
Hello, I'm Amy. I'm 30. I do triathlons .... and I am going through adventure withdrawal.
Although my exact location is undetermined ... more then likely I was sitting at my mundane desk job or aimlessly scrolling through my phone while on the train, my sofa, or my bed -- but I came across the page for Alaskaman Extreme Triathlon. Obviously I clicked it, and then liked it -- I mean ... I love Alaska .. I love Triathlon [usually] ... and who doesn't love Extreme? My senior thesis in college was "Women in Extreme Sports" for goodness sake.
AlaskaMan.
2017 with be its inaugural year.
It is a small race of 315 people.
A 2.6 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 27 mile run
It's "The hardest long course in North America" with a water temperature around 55F, an air temperature ranging from 50-65F, a gain of 4,046' on the bike and 6,012' on the run [4200' of which is in the final 7 miles]. It has minimal support. Your bike support comes from whoever you can fit into your support car, the run aid .. minimal, with water and Gatorade at miles 12, 15, 20 and 23. Due to the elevation and terrain of the last 7 miles, you need to have a member of your support crew with you. One sorry soul you get to torture alongside with you.
There will be a wildlife expert at the briefing to tell you what to do if you encounter wildlife and when you ask them about changing clothes they say:
"This is an extreme triathlon. This means you make what you have work for you. Tough it out. As of now there are no changing tents but you most certainly will want to get out of your cold clothes and get warm by putting on some dry clothes prior to riding. There's a couple of ways to do this 1. Just get naked for 10 seconds and deal with it" .... I think that says enough .. :)
Obviously I would not do this race, though, I'm a wimp. For as much as I like to say I live outside of the box, recently I have been too ... comfortable in it. And although many of you would tend to disagree with me, I don't feel like an athlete. I don't feel strong. I don't feel fit. I don't feel confident in myself to overcome a challenge. I sit here and I compare myself to not only all my athlete friends, but to the people I don't even know on Instagram [I really should just delete that damn app], and I feel like they are so far above me... that I am not even close to a comparable level. It is partially the reason I train alone even though I know very well that training with others would make me stronger -- I'm just -- embarrassed. Please just put me back in my comfortable bubble. It just always happens to seem that whenever I do decide to get out there and join someone -- I always have my worst days .. great, lets continue the embarrassment. I want to be a great athlete .. but damn it if I like sleep and beer too much.
But there they are ... posting some darn pretty photos so I allowed them to continue showing up on my news feed -- showing me a place I would rather be every time I pulled up facebook on my computer, phone or tablet -- just kidding -- I don't use a tablet [crazy, right?]
Then they started posting their damn countdown.
"10 days!" "7 days!" ... shut up ... stop counting the days of my life away
"3 days!"
I would never. I could never. Never could
"0 days!"
Zero god damn days.
I figured the race would sell out quickly .. honestly I thought it would in a day - that day
... and I couldn't get my mind off of it. I wanted to believe I could do it - but I didn't.
My mind was an obnoxious newton's cradle ... a never ending game of tennis ... a metronome going at 160bpm. Back and forth, Back and forth, Yes.No.Yes.No.Yes.No.
No, no ... no.
I was surprised that evening when they announced there were 13 spots left, surely those would be gone by morning. Eventually I told the universe to just tell me what to do and went to bed -- fully expecting that it would be sold out by the time I woke up. That night I had a dream within a dream - in which I missed getting into the race by one person. I then woke up from my dream within the dream, and signed up [are you still following? don't worry, I'm still dreaming]. I woke up from that dream .. back to reality, and I still didn't know what the hell I was doing ... but there were 8 spots left.
I texted my mom and my sister, pretty much expecting them to tell me no and making the decision for me. My mom per usual, though, told me to do it. Good ole mom -- she will always be my biggest fan. My sister was concerned about my health, and responsibly so, since I don't have a great track record...
Well that wasn't helpful.
I just wanted someone to tell me what to do -- although this was certainly a decision I had to make for myself, and I did.
I decided. I decided to sign up - and immediately after ... I wanted to throw up.
I wanted to throw up - I didn't.
I wanted to cry - I did.
a lot
a couple times
The emotions I felt when I first signed up for Chesapeakeman back in January of 2012 were back and I was scared.to.death.
But it felt like a life was brought back into me.
Later on I texted the family
I do know where part of their concern came from -- it came from my conversation about wanting to take a break from distance, and I do. But I also need to ... show myself I'm not that wimp. I felt like this race was a now or never. I will have the distance base from Maryland, and I can continue the training with a focus on getting stronger. I didn't see myself taking a break, and then reaching for this race from scratch.
I think the end is what made me fall in love with this race. Finish lines, and the final miles leading up to them are the most powerful, the most emotional, the most memorable moments -- but you always experience them alone. You try to explain them, but there truly never are quite the right words. Your loved ones have their own experience as they watch you finish, and those are wonderful too -- but with this race, someone actually gets to experience it with you. They are there to watch your excitement, your struggle, your happiness and doubt ... they are with you through the pain and those final tears during the hardest 7 miles after what is bound to be a grueling day. Getting the opportunity to experience that with someone close to you, is magical.
It's beautiful to me.
The rest of the day was a roller coaster of emotions .. and wanting to vomit.
Excitement, fear, self doubt and maybe just a couplleee more tears...
Although with tears comes laughter too, because when I signed up for this race it was actually .8 miles shorter with 912 less feet of elevation -- and then one evening as I was reading the athlete guide, it was literally changing right in front of my eyes.
 |
| Miles 15- 27 |
They had altered the run course from the initial route to include more Alaskan beauty [yay!] but which also added .8 miles to the run and just 'a biiittt' more elevation [not yay??] - ha.
... and as I write this, I am still not sure when I'll open this up for other people to read.
First, I need to believe in me [...and I am getting there...]
So this is where I am.
ChesapeakeMan to AlaskaMan.
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