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.