The Ironman

My alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. to pump breastmilk for 5-month-old baby Roman. I felt like I had only slept a couple hours. I drank my coffee and tried to convince myself I wanted the breakfast I sat out the night before. 16 weeks of early morning workouts, learning to fuel, and logging hundreds of miles of swims, rides and runs had prepared me for this day. I finished pumping, and I dressed myself in my tri suit and strapped on my watch. Today is the day. Today is the day I get to race my first half-Ironman triathlon.

One of my training partners Bri met me in the kitchen to double check our tri-kits.

Googles, wet suit, swim cap, and towel. Check.

Helmet, sunglasses, bike shoes, pump, gloves, two frozen water bottles with Nuun, and fuel bag with waffles. Check.

Running shoes, socks, hat, bib belt with gels, and hand-held water bottle. Check!

My husband David loaded our bikes and drove us to downtown Chattanooga and dropped us off near the transition zone. "Have fun, babe. Can't wait to watch you rock it," he said, and he drove back to the Airbnb to care for our 3 boys and ready the cheer team. Two days ago on May 17, 2019, we celebrated 10 years of marriage. The road to learning to love another person without conditions is not an easy one. Sometimes the hardest part is to believe you're worth it and that it's worth the risk of being vulnerable. I wanted David to join me today in racing this event, but he chose to sit this adventure out to support me and make sure that I had the time to train in the midst of our busy lives. But I am determined...the next 70.3 I do, he will be by my side because I know he would love it.

I found my bike rack slot - #1197 - and set up my transition zone. It felt so surreal. I pumped up my tires one last time and ate a second breakfast. I found my third training partner Breland getting her station set up. Breland is the reason I signed up for this event. It was a slow afternoon in my student health clinic at High Point University in early December 2018, and I was a few weeks away from delivering my third son Roman. Breland and I are both PAs, both played soccer in college, and get a thrill out of endurance events. "Are we doing this or not?" she texted me. "If so, we have to commit. Chattanooga sells out fast." I knew it would be a risk for me to commit to a 70 mile race only 5 months postpartum, but it was also a dream of mine to complete a half-Ironman, and I knew there would always be a reason not to try. I signed up and sent her the screenshot as proof. "Oh man! It's a go!" she replied. And we convinced my friend Bri who is medical student at Wake Forest to join the craziness soon after that. Now, here we are setting up our transition zones on race day.

What have we done...

The bus was starting to load athletes to take them to the swim start. It was 6 a.m. and the pro's would enter the water around 7 a.m. We made our way onto the bus and headed across the Tennessee River. The moonlight over the water was magical. We put on our wet suits and caps and talked to athletes waiting in a line of hundreds to start their swim. The diversity of ages, fitness levels and backgrounds filled me with a sense of awe. Men and women from age 18 to 70, some of them experienced triathletes and others novices like us racing their first 70.3, all stood anxiously anticipating the plunge. One fellow athlete named Kathryn from our city of Winston-Salem, NC was racing in honor of her husband Chris who died in his prime a few months earlier from a rare adrenal gland tumor. Her love for Chris and her desire to celebrate his life and passion for triathlon empowered her to train for this event. Most days, she fueled on grief, tears and faith. She was brand new to the sport, and had 3 kids to care for as a newly widowed single mom. Her courage inspired us all. Her story is one of hundreds of stories of why athletes do triathlon. We are all fighting tough battles. If only life did not require us to be so brave.

On my wrist in permanent marker I wrote RHE, the initials of a dear soul whose life ended way too short a month before this event. Though I had never met her in person, Rachel Held Evans became a close friend of mine as I devoured her blog and books over the past year while wrestling with many discouraging aspects of Christian subculture. Like Rachel, I grew up in the Bible belt and met God in the context of southern Baptist evangelicalism. We have both called Alabama home and learned about worldview and community at Bryan College in Dayton, TN. We each struggled through the legalism, discrimination and dogmatism of many of our leaders, and have mourned the times those concepts were the flags we waved ourselves.

The more we allowed ourselves to ask honest questions about the Bible, the church and Christianity as we knew it, the more we both realized the animosity and isolation it can cause among peers. As I began to allow my mind to truly hear views different than my own, I started to watch my whole world take on a shade of gray. It was uncomfortable and sometimes frightening, but the one thing that kept me treading water in that ocean of ambiguity was that I found that there's a whole lot of people hanging out there as well, and it just didn't feel right for me to leave them for safer waters or the shore. Rachel taught me how to tread the waters of doubt with grace. At a time when my spiritual family disqualified me from teaching the Word in a co-ed setting simply on the basis of my gender, my eyes were opened to the reality that gender is simply one of many categories that can be ostracizing in the church. Rachel has helped me navigate a trail that has no signs, no maps and no blazes. She helped me see that there is room for me in God's family, even when I do not fit the subculture's definition of godly womanhood or fight an ongoing battle with depression.

There's room for me, and there's room for you too. During the Ironman, every time I felt pain or fatigue, I saw RHE on my wrist, and I found the endurance to go on, because without her honesty and transparency, I would have quit a long time ago. Thank you, Rachel.

Our trio inched forward as music blared and athletes jumped into the water to start their 1.2 mile swim. We adjusted our googles, stretched and tried to take deep breaths as adrenaline rushed through our bodies. I closed my eyes and prayed, "Thank you God for this opportunity to see a dream fulfilled. Thank you for the gift of life and health and for all you have taught me about you during this journey. Thank you for all the family and friends that made this day a reality. And most of all, may I remember that you are my biggest fan. Keep us all safe out there and help us all cross that finish line. In Jesus name, Amen."

Splash! The water felt great - barely wet suit legal. Swimming is my weakest discipline, and my gang had no options for open water swimming near Winston-Salem, so most of my training was in the pool which is not ideal. In open water, there are no lane ropes to keep you in a straight line, no walls to kick off of, and there are arms and legs constantly hitting you as you try to find your stroke. Two physical barriers I deal with in the water are panic attacks and having a low threshold for migraines. As expected, about 3-4 minutes into my swim, I start having a panic attack. My heart raced, I struggled to control my breathing, and I felt dizzy and overwhelmed. I was prepared for this, and as planned, I switched from the American crawl to breast stroke to regain composure. Eventually, I put my face back down and resumed the crawl. The swim for Chattanooga was downstream, so I the current was in my favor. I found a groove at a comfortable aerobic pace and about half an hour later, I was pulled out of the water at the steps at Ross Landing. My favorite part of the race may have been what happened next - the wet suit strippers! I lay down on a black mat and two women literally ripped that thing right off me in a second. I jogged my way to the transition zone passing my family cheering my name. Whew, I survived the swim! It wasn't pretty, but it was over.

The 54 mile bike ride in Chattanooga was beautiful with rolling hills. Biking is in many respects the most important disciple since it is the longest leg of the race. This is somewhat frustrating because bike type and performance are closely related, and I do not have thousands of dollars to pour into my bike. I did upgrade this year from an aluminum frame Trek to a carbon fiber frame and had aerobars installed. My new bike fit me better too, which made the longer distances more enjoyable without having the low back pain I dealt with on my older bike. Once again, besides 4-5 outdoor rides, I mostly trained on my basic trainer and in cycle classes. Some Saturdays, while David was working in urgent care, I would put my kiddos in childcare at the YMCA and do 3 cycle classes back-to-back to log in around 45 miles. Bri and I did a 50 mile fundraiser ride a couple weeks before this event, and then I ran a half marathon the next day on my own, and that was hard to do even a day apart! So, I knew I couldn't burn myself out on the bike if I wanted to have the energy to run 13 miles in 90 degree weather afterwards. I was blessed to ride several miles with my friend Breland who happens to be a beast-of-a-rider and helped me stay focused.

Fueling has always been a struggle for me because I don't ever feel thirsty and drink coffee like its water, and I am used to shorter distances. In high school, I ran the 800meter dash and the mile in track and 5Ks in cross country. I also have irritable bowel syndrome ever since I dealt with 3 years of chronic parasitism I acquired overseas, so my stomach doesn't always play nice when I try to take in calories while exercising. but training for this event taught me the importance of nutrition and how to plan ahead to avoid bonking. On my 54 mile ride, I drank two water bottles of sports drink and ate 5 stinger waffles. After 3 hours of exploring gorgeous rolling hills, and smiling almost ever minute of it, I arrived back at the transition zone.

 



The run is my jam (see The Marathon post). Well, at least it's usually my jam when I'm not 5 months postpartum. Ha! Let's just say running is my most nature discipline. I have never been a swimmer, and I've been a nominal biker for 10 years, but I've been a runner practically my whole life. Running has been a special gift from the Creator to survive the harder trips around the sun. Through my parents' divorce, a life-long battle with migraines, having to withdraw from medical school due to illness, becoming a new mom and suffering with postpartum depression, showing up for long weeks of caring for patients with many ailments without remedies, and walking through numerous heart-bleeding blows with people I love...running has helped me cope and persevere. We ALL need something like that in our lives.

Triathlon training has helped me cope with a huge move our family is about to make next month from our home in Winston-Salem, NC to Birmingham, AL, my state of origin. As I ran each mile of the triathlon half marathon, I praised God for his grace in my life. During our 5 years in Winston-Salem, I grew up a great deal. I went from one child to three. I became a physician assistant (PA) and cared for patients in primary care and student health. I co-led a small group with David where the doing of life together created a community that truly became like family. I learned to let myself feel negative emotions instead of reframing or denying them. I learned to make space for others to do the same. I learned to listen to who God says I am over all the other voices, even when they say they are speaking on his behalf. And I came to this place in my journey where I wasn't looking backward or forward because I loved what was going on right in the present. Thinking about moving for David's job is more than I can bear to process right now because I have to leave the place where I feel most myself. I know I will make new friends, but sometimes, you don't want new friends. Friends are not made, they are grown. And I love my garden. Today, as I ran by family and friends with signs, and thought about all the people tracking me around the country on the app, I realized that I have a choice. I can be bitter that we have to uproot. Or I can be grateful for having the season of community God gave us in our little home in Winston-Salem. It will forever be the place the best version of me was built. I hope I can find a way to bring her to Birmingham.


My husband David, baby Roman, and my dear friends Becca, Lee, and Jenn



The heat on the run course was brutal. I tried to take in fluids at every aid station. I felt like I could go faster, but I also knew I could cramp up at any moment, so I took it easy. I crossed the final bridge and started sprinting to the finish line. Tears flooded my eyes and I felt so alive. Fists raised high, I crossed the line as an Ironman. My time was 5 hours and 30 minutes.

I immediately found my crew and hugged my very hot and sweaty boys. They were definitely over it. I asked about Bri, Breland and Kathryn, and excitedly learned they were each doing great. We all reached our goals of completing the event, having fun and no injuries!

Me, Breland, Bri

My sweet family

Cheering squad! Becca, Lee, Jenn, David with Jace and Blake, Me with Roman, Bri, Dad, Jerad, & Jessica

This experience was worth ever hour of training it demanded, and it was such a joy to train in community with others. Like life, I had good workouts and sucky ones. I had sick days and sick kids. I had nagging injuries and sore muscles to work through, and I had days I slept through my workout and had to cram it in between patients at lunch. We ran in freezing rain and doubted our training plan and our abilities more than we had confidence in them. But when we couldn't believe in ourselves, someone else believed in us in our stead. And when we didn't feel like showing up for ourselves, we showed up for the sake of others. This is certainly my favorite part of racing - that it's a team sport all day long.

I hope this Ironman race puts courage in people all around the world to say, "You are more than you think you are." What unfulfilled dream do you have that fear is telling you will never be a reality? What voice of discouragement, either yours or someone else's, are you still letting yourself listen to? Lean into your village and into your Creator God who loves you unconditionally and then take the first toward your dream. If I can do it, trust me, so can you.

The Marathon

I was created to be in perpetual motion. Eyes wide open, always hungry for the next experience - it makes sense that the adrenaline that comes with athletics has always been a part of my life. I am grateful for parents who gave me the opportunity to explore sports galore, but out of all the sports I played, I have always most identified as a runner.

My earliest memory of running was jogging around my neighborhood with my dad to train for a Thanksgiving Turkey Trot 1 mile fun run at age 7. A few years later, I had to run a mile for time for the fitness test during PE class, and I crossed the line before anyone else in my grade. During a time in my life where I was trying to figure out who I was and why I was alive, running became a part of me.

I ran cross-country in middle and high school, and on my basketball and soccer teams, I became known as the endurance athlete. I wasn't very quick, but I would outlast everyone. As a sophomore, I ran a 19:05 5K at the Jesse Owens state-qualifying invitational meet, and I entertained thoughts of a future in elite racing. Ironically, it was one of my last races that season because I ended up with bilateral stress fractures. I welcomed the sport of running to teach me discipline and perseverance, but it was an unwelcomed injury that taught me resilience and humility. Really, all these things in a proper balance are necessary for life.

In track and field, I excelled most in the 800 meter dash. It was awesome to run as hard as I could for two laps to test both speed and endurance simultaneously. My form has always been pretty awkward. I run very tense and struggle to keep a consistent cadence. My coaches always said it was my heart that fueled any success I experienced in racing. My heart is where the Spirit of God lives, and when I run, I can almost palpate his presence and pleasure.

Alabama State Meet 2002

I played collegiate soccer on scholarship at Bryan College (2005-09), but in my off seasons, I ran races. The stress of pre-med classes was intense, and running was literally medicine for my mind and soul. There was conflict within and conflict at home, and I did not know how to handle my negative emotions of sadness, anger and disappointment as I put pressure on myself to be strong for everyone else. I'd feel overwhelmed, and I'd just bolt for a long run. And then I was able to cope. I ran several half marathons during my college years with a personal best of 1:30 my senior year. It was that year I began to consider the marathon.

Nashville Country Music Half Marathon

I had always been fascinated with the 26 mile beast known as THE MARATHON. As the legend goes, the first marathoner was the Greco-Persian soldier who ran from Marathon, Greece to Athens with news of his army's victory and then he collapsed in death after delivering his message. That's enough content alone to make this distance daunting. The marathon became a part of the Olympics in 1896, and then only men were allowed to participate. As a female athlete born in 1986, I was shocked to discover that women were not permitted to compete in the marathon until merely two years before my birth in 1984. Why? Because women were not thought to be physically capable of long distance running. Not because they had tried and failed, but simply because they had no freedom to try. This really motivated me to get out there to put my body to the test considering how hard my female forerunners had to ask forgiveness and not permission to make this event possible for me.

So in 2009, I promised myself to train for and complete a marathon. But life is life, and many seasons passed that it just wasn't feasible. I graduated college and was married a week later to my better half David. We taught school for a year, and while coaching cross-country I started to train but ended up injuring my IT band and having to take several months off.

We started medical school together in 2010, but I withdrew after the first semester when my state of perpetual motion was traumatically halted by mental and physical illness. There was literally a time when I did not have the stamina to walk down the driveway. I was forced to sit still trapped in a couple decades of suppressed pain and deal with the negative emotions I'd always run from all my life. Some things, no matter how hard you run, will ultimately catch up to you somehow.

Once I was well enough to be released by my physician in 2012, I was surprised by an unplanned pregnancy with my first son Blake after being told for years I likely wouldn't be able to have children. After he was born, I was traumatized by intense post-partum depression, anxiety and panic as my husband slogged through his 3rd and 4th years of medical school.

After months of medication and counseling, I gained the health to slowly rebuild my life again. We matched at Wake Forest for David's residency and moved to Winston-Salem, NC, in 2014. I started physician assistant school and slowly gained the margin to take up running and racing again. I had my second son Jace my second year of PA school, graduated in 2016, and started my first PA position in family medicine. On my 30th birthday, I completed my first trail half marathon, Triple Lakes in Greensboro. When I crossed the finish line, I decided it was time. It was time to start training for the marathon. It was time to keep the promise I made to myself.

I fully expected it to be hard, but it was tougher than I imagined. As I increased my mileage, I found it incredibly hard to log all the necessary miles as I tried to juggle parenting my two sons with David in residency and working a full-time job. I fought one nagging injury after another and missed the chance to train with Fleet Feet, our local running community, due to having to take a couple months off from patella-femoral syndrome. At last, I started to gain ground the summer of 2017.

I completed 14 miles at Little River Canyon in Alabama.

Little River Canyon, Mentone, AL

I did my 16 mile run in Kona, Hawaii.

I completed 18 miles running Salem Lake and the Greenway in Winston-Salem, NC.

Blake and I celebrating after the Mistletoe half.

And I did my longest run - 22 miles - in Cascade, Idaho, on snow-covered paths.

Then I did my 3 week taper.

My chosen event was the BIG BEACH MARATHON in GULF SHORES, AL, January 28th, 2018. My rock-star husband David, my super-awesome father Warren, and a dear best friend from college Ely all decided to cheer me on. Gulf Shores was the race I chose for two main reasons: it was on a warm beach in the middle of the cold winter season (and I HATE the cold), and it is a beach rich with memories from years of family vacations.

The expo was so surreal. This is happening! I was finally here. I got my bib and shirt, and ate out with Dad and Ely at The Gulf bar on the beach. Unfortunately, David was feeling sick and decided to stay home and rest. Soon we got a call from David's mom Anna who was keeping our two boys back in NC. She told us my youngest son Jace had a fever. She took him to urgent care, and as we feared, he was + for influenza A. We realized that David likely also had the flu as well. A feeling of doom started to settle into my gut. I continued to be optimistic as fatigue started to settle into my bones. I laid everything out for the race that night hoping for the best, wondering how I'd know whether or not I should run considering the flu virus was likely also in my system. But the flu decided for me. When the gun went off the morning of January 28th, I was sweating in bed with a massive headache, fever, and my least favorite emotion...sadness.

We flew back to NC with masks on as I searched the internet for another marathon to register for. For days I had no appetite and could barely rise from the couch, and then, the coughing started. And increased. And worsened. A week after the initial symptoms, I went to urgent care and the chest XR showed lobar pneumonia, and I was out another week after that diagnosis. By mid-February, my motivation to find another race had deserted me. I was so burnout and discouraged. I surrendered to the reality that this goal would again not be realized, at least not right now.

Today, JANUARY 28, 2019, is the 1 year anniversary of the Big Beach Marathon, and I wanted to take the time to process the sorrow and express gratitude for the joy that the marathon training journey brought to my life.

First of all, as Jesus said, "In this world you will have trouble..." Life is completely unpredictable and full of unexpected hardships. Endurance running has been a true of gift from God in my life because the marathon is very much a metaphor for life. Some miles you feel great, others, you hit the wall. Some days the future is as bright as the sun, and other days, all you can see or feel is deep darkness - in yourself and in the world around you. Disappointment is a part of life. But it can be a blessing if you lean into it. It's not our strengths and achievements that connect our souls to others. No. It is our weaknesses and shattered dreams that open our hearts up to be fully honest with ourselves and others, and most importantly, with God who came and made his home in our mess.

In retrospect, I can see how God allowed the flu virus to hit with epic timing because it placed me in a position of deep dependence on him at a time when he planned to use my brokenness for something much better than the accomplishment of completing the marathon. 2018, post-sickness and failure, may have been the best year of my life. The void this disappointment created in my life made room for making new friends who entered my life with great heartaches that my circumstances helped me be attuned to. And I deepened some of my older friendships as I allowed myself to stop running from pain and be present with others in it.

Salem Lake 7 miler, 29 weeks pregnant

Ardmore Rah 5K, 31 wks pregnant

December 13, 2018, I had my third son Roman. And this pregnancy was the healthiest and happiest pregnancy yet, and I believe coming off 6 months of marathon training gave me the foundation to stay active all 9 months. Currently, I am 6 weeks post-partum, have already run my first 5K race and have commenced training for my first 1/2 Ironman. My friend Bri, who also happens to know the frustration of unaccomplished marathon goals, is my brave and brilliant training partner, and we are registered to crush the Sunbelt Bakery Ironman 70.3 in Chattanooga, TN, on May 19, 2019.

 

My marathon saga also taught me the need I have for community. Running can be quite an individual sport as we each strive to get faster and beat our personal best, but there is a greater joy than reaching personal goals. It's the joy that comes with doing my race and my life with others - making their goals a part of my goals. Feeling their pain and allowing myself to let them feel mine. We all deep down desire to be fully known and fully loved, but you cannot ever truly be fully loved if you do not let others see your whole self. No one actually cares how fast you are. They do care, though, about what battle you're fighting that makes you get out there at 5 a.m. and train. People do not care about your PR. But the story behind that PR - what you had to overcome to make it happen and why you even set your goals to start with...That's what makes us human. The marathon has taught me this and so much more.

Will I ever be able to keep the promise I made to myself to complete the 26 mile beast? Only time will tell. Right now, I'm just grateful for God's faithfulness to me, to give me always what I need more than what I want.