Well kiddos,

It's just about 12....no, clock is turning to midnight soon, so 11 days until the Vineman Ironman. It has been a loooong road to get to this point, so long in fact that there are practices I have flat out forgotten even happened. I can remember when everyone at practice on Saturday looked the same to me because I didn't really know anyone and how now when I see everyone it's like seeing a bag of intricate and beautiful gems that I've gotten the privilege to get to know over nearly a year. It has been quite the journey.....

Most of the Vineman crew after our last big workout. Notice the "T" for Taper? Yup, welcome to taper weeks!

But in addition to getting to know an amazing group of people that I get to be on a team with, I got to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and organization dedicated to finding cures for blood cancers and helping with patients in a variety of ways from aiding in medical costs to finding stem cell transplant matches, all with the mindset that "someday is today."

So I wanted to thank all of my donors for the immense faith and trust that you put into me that I could pull this whole Ironman thingie off (cross your fingers), and want you all to know that your donations are going towards life-saving treatments that are allowing thousands of people to live longer and better lives. Before the founding of the LLS, a blood cancer diagnosis was almost always a death sentence and now hundreds of thousands of people are living healthier and more normal lives. This is all thanks to people like you, so thank you so very much!

I'm not so good with words, and am much better with music.....so stay tuned for a song written in all of your honor! And wish me luck, because 140.6 miles is a long way to go, but I'm going to get there with your help!

Till I become an Ironman...

Ciao!

Marianthe

I'm starting a final countdown to my race! After July 27, I'll be an Ironman!

From July 1st through July 10th (11:59pm PST) I will be running an online raffle to win an iPad mini! These things are super cool, convenient and just a smaller version of the powerful iPad.

I will be doing a live drawing AND will post the video (edited to an original song by yours truly) online of the winner on July 11th!

$20 gets you in the raffle, each additional $5 donation gets another entry.

For example:

$20 = 1 Entry

$25 = 2 Entries

$30 = 3 Entries

So $50 would get you.... 7 Entries!

That's a lot of chances to win..... Once during the raffle I'll announce a crazy deal to sweeten the pot!

GOOD LUCK!!!!

Setting up at Johnson's Beach, where the swim start will be at Vineman 140.6

One of the beautiful vineries we rode by at Vineman training weekend, and where we will be again in 6 short weeks at the race!

I am 6 weeks away from Vineman 140.6. It has been a very long journey, and I would be lying if I said it was all positive. Today we did our longest ride to date, 92 miles in and around Zuma Beach followed by a 60 minute run. I don't run very fast after I bike, which I hope is something that will be different during the race. It takes me at least 30 minutes to warm up, and I'm not very motivated to stick to my normal pace after so many hours on the bike. But I had a very good ride, 92 miles in 5 and a half hours. That's faster than I rode 82 miles at Vineman Training weekend. Of course it was 101 degrees that day but anyways. Details.

I went to some dark mental places today, that I don't normally go. It's entirely possible that I was feeding my body too many calories at the wrong time so my mood swings were as volatile as fluctuating blood sugar levels. Or if might have been that I let my brain go to some thoughts regarding some current life stresses that I'm normally very skilled at shutting out while I'm training......Regardless, next week I'm going to work harder on the science of feeding my body better than I normally do. Since I am blessed with a cast-iron stomach, I tend to abuse it and don't think that there is a real science to fueling while exercising at these extreme levels. In any case... I went to some dark spots.

I felt great in the beginning and was maintaining a really solid pace, ping-ponging between some of my very speedy Vine-ladies. At some points I got depressed, and then cranky, and then happy again, and then downright despondent.

Some of my thoughts were....

....This is so stupid, why am I doing this?

.....All of these stupid cars are speeding and being reckless a*%holes (there was a large lambourghini posse today)

.....I'm tired of training, I can't do this again next year......

.....I just want to quit, who cares about doing the race anyways? I could quit now, who would really care?

......My (insert body part here) hurts and maybe the reason is purely because human beings aren't supposed to do this s*^t.

So clearly some dark moments, and this is not even scratching the surface of what is going on in my life at the moment.......and these are just the thoughts I remembered.

I am a generally positive person, so I know there are lessons here that I can apply to my life.

Whatever trials are thrown at us, it is very easy to take the easy, albeit lazy path. It behooves all of us to try and see what an alternate viewpoint might yield. It's just that simple. We know what throwing in the towel looks like........defeat, disappointment, loss, guilt, failure. What if we knew these were all possibilities and we looked these beasts in the eye and told them all to %^&* off? A whole world of possibilities awaits this alternate path, and I guarantee you and myself, that it is all more rewarding and a better option.

I saw Man of Steel last night with some of my teammates. aka super teammates went and saw Superman together. What a great film. Sounds cheesy, but even though Superman was not from earth, he embodied the greatest characteristics humans exhibit....honor, perseverance, class, morality, kindness, fairness and integrity. If I give in to negative thoughts I'm belying the good qualities that human beings represent, and I do no one justice, including myself, to give into those maladies.

So I'm going to keep going, through the bad thoughts, good thoughts, boring thoughts, amazing thoughts....and everything in between.

Tomorrow we swim 1.5 miles and run 18. And I may have some nagging bad thoughts but I'm going to try and remember that all things pass, whether good or bad, and I'll get through tomorrow like I did today.

On a different note, I am only about $1500 away from my fundraising committment, and I would like so very much to reach it soon so I can just focus on training. If you are interested in helping me help those afflicted with cancer, or even would like to pass on my link to someone else, please feel free to do so. I would be so thankful and appreciative of whatever you are able to do.

This past weekend was a recovery week, but that doesn't stop the Ironteam from working hard. The plan for Saturday was to bike from Anaheim to Solana Beach and take the train back. We rode for 80 miles, making our way through bike paths, the PCH in some spots, Camp Pendelton and quaint downtown areas through San Clemente, Laguna Beach, and San Juan Capistrano. It was beautiful! And while it was long with some rollers here and there, luckily the only tough part was riding through Camp Pendelton around mile 55 when I started to get tired. But I managed to get a second wind, was able to catch up with some other teammates and chat my way through the last 10 or so miles.

While the team was supposed to take the train back, my plan was to stay down south because my sister lives in the area and she asked me to swim in her relay in the Encinitas Triathlon. We've always planned to do a triathlon together, and how convenient that I was riding my bike down there the day before! My sister is a fast cyclist and runner, so the pressure was on to get a good swim in. Well.....wishing and hoping does not make a good swim happen.

This is actually after the race, the pre-race photo I took wasn't as good...haha, vanity, guilty as charged.

We woke up early and rode our bikes from Encinitas to Seaside State Beach to the race. After we set up in transition and planned our timing chip pass-off strategy, I went out to look at the water. I could hear the race announcers saying that there were unpredictable currents, and really big waves. No joke, the waves looked huge! The announcer also said several times that racers could opt out of the swim and just sign up for the duathlon. For a bit, my sister and I discussed whether or not I should back out of the swim, but we weren't totally sure she would be able to switch to the duathlon (we probably could've, we just didn't ask). I just decided to do it, I mean, how hard could it be?

Several waves went out, and it became really apparent that the waves were no joke and lots of swimmers were struggling to get through these huge monsters. From far away they looked like they were 5-6 feet so imagine what they were close up....yes, I really didn't have to imagine for long. I was hearing people chat about how people couldn't get out very far and bailed before getting through the waves, but that didn't phase me, no sir (*gulp*).

I lined up with the other relay swimmers around 8 and chatted nervously with everyone about the swim conditions that just wouldn't stop their mockery, with one 6 footer crashing after another. I figured, hey, there are life guards out there and volunteers on Sea-Doos, so really, most likely no one will drown. That's the solid kind of attitude I just kept deluding myself with, and it worked for awhile.

The siren went off and we started running through the water which was only knee deep at that point. I thought I would be clever and start swimming even though it was shallow, and while that was a good idea for awhile, it wasn't really going to prevent the disaster that was awaiting me.

These waves were huge, like 6-7 feet it seemed like, and they happened frequently, so it was hard to recover before another one hit. I dolpin-dove under all of them but one actually pulled me back about 10 feet which had taken me probably a minute to swim through. Discouraging to say the least. I finally managed to get past the waves, and I'm mildly truncating this description because it was actually probably 8 minutes of this, so you get the point. But the current had pulled me far south so I had to swim upstream for awhile to around the buoy.

Now, coming back in is actually sometimes harder than swimming out, so my mental confidence (what was left of it) was eroding with each crashing breaker. I once had a bad experience in my first triathlon where I got flipped around in a wave while trying to swim in and I really felt like I was going to drown so since then I have some anxiety about swimming towards the shore. I've learned since then to swim a few strokes and then look back so I can see the waves coming and at least be prepared for what may or may not be my watery demise.

At this point I was mildly disoriented from the current, and I can't even see that many people out swimming around the buoy, I tried to assume it was because people came back in early instead of my mind going bad places about my fellow swimmer's plights. I was looking back and seeing these ginormous waves coming at me and I had to decide if I was going to try to swim under them or ride the top....every wave was a split second decision. Mind you, my idea of getting a good time for Team Bezzerides now had flown the coop and been replaced with thoughts of not drowning.

There were a lot of people that needed to be pulled in by lifeguard buoys that volunteers were using....you know, those volunteers that were out on the Sea-Doos. And I panicked some and even cried because I was at this juncture where every option...swimming forward, riding the wave, waiting for good moments to swim....all of them seemed like bad options. Meanwhile I was still getting flipped around every time one came in. My strategy is to hold my nose and hope to get to the top. There were lots of moments where everything went dark and I felt like I was 10 feet below the surface and then it started to get lighter looking and then...the surface, thankfully.

At this point, (and there is a point to this story) since I was quite literally thinking I was going to drown out there, I had to talk myself into a different mindset. I honestly had to have faith. Faith for one, that I am a strong swimmer, and that my wetsuit is essentially a flotation device and probably really helps to "right" swimmers like little boats in choppy seas. Faith also, that I've trained a lot and presumedly can handle a certain level of physical exertion and crazy conditions enough for the adrenaline and survival mode to kick in long enough to save my ass from an ocean demise. Faith finally in other people....there were plenty of volunteers out there whose job was to rescue swimmers if we were in trouble.

So I made it out of there alive, dazed and with some panicky breathing problems but I ran back down the beach into the transition area where I found my sister, put the timing chip around her ankle, and she was off for the rest of the race.

Once I recovered mentally and physically and accepted that I did not in fact drown, I started thinking about faith and how it ties into what I am raising money for.

Patients who get diagnosed with cancer face a lot of questions, and many of them have to do with having faith. Faith in their doctors that they are being correctly diagnosed. Faith in their treatments that they will work. Faith in the family and friends that they will get the support that they need. Faith in themselves that they will be able to weather the storm and maintain the strength needed to be fighting for their lives.

Every donation to the LLS is like a little drop in the bucket of strength, building faith for thousands of people that are facing terribly difficult diagnosis and diseases. I had people out there in the swim that could help me if I really needed it, and I finally had the faith to trust that if I really started to have trouble, I would get rescued, and I would not drown. (Have I gotten the point across that I really thought that would happen? Yes, true story!)

With this being said, I really want to help contribute to this bucket of faith, that starts with a few drops and turns into an ocean of help. So with that being said, any donation, big or small is important, helps people, and is saving lives.

Dear ocean, thank you for not killing me today. I still love you, but please don't be so angry.

This past weekend most of us drove up north to Lake San Antonio to race in the "One and Only" Wildflower Triathlons (catchy, don't you think?). This is a notoriously difficult course and tests even the most seasoned of triathletes mettle and willpower. It is called the "Woodstock" of triathlons and is supposedly one of the toughest half Ironman courses in the country, some say the world. I don't know about the world, but I did talk with a fellow triathlete acquaintance after the race who said out of the 14 half Ironman races he's done, Wildflower is the hardest. So, there you go...peer reviews say it's damn hard.

Ok, have I set it up well enough yet?

Transition area before 1,400 racers bring in their bikes and gear....

I was a bit nervous going into the race, but since we had done a training weekend just a month ago, I at least knew what to expect in terms of the terrain and the course. Since its a month later, the weather had changed dramatically and it was HOT when we arrived Friday morning. Like "drink 6 bottles of water and electrolytes in 4 hours and still feel like dying" hot. I'm not a big water drinker (coffee and beer, yes and yes, though the latter not as much lately) so hydrating adequately is a monumental effort under normal weather circumstances. But I was a good little triathlete and I pounded water the last couple days leading up to the race.

On the day that we got to Lake San Antonio, we set up our campsite and then went down to the lake and had a nice swim in the afternoon, and the water was PERFECT. I was even debating not using a wetsuit the next day along with some other teammates, but in the end I opted for the buoyancy that the wetsuit offers for the race.

The chateau at Lake San Antonio with my friend and teammate Tiffany.....

In the evening we went to the Inspiration Dinner hosted by the LLS and it was a great experience to see how many different chapters from all over the Western US, and even Quebec were represented. Not only was it great to see how many people that are involved in this organization, it was awesome to see teammates, coaches, honored athletes and staff being honored and acknowledged for all of their hard work, determination and dedication to the cause.

But anyways, on to the race!

We woke up early, and of course in true "me" fashion, I was the last person to leave the campsite to head down the set up in the transition area. Not sure what it is about me, but I tend to be late. I call it "Greek time," others just call it "being tardy." Mere semantics in my opinion....

I set up my transition area, put on sunblock, got bodymarked with my race number (2302), checked my gear and placement of everything several times, made sure to eat, hydrate again, located markers in order to find the correct row with my bike and lucky me, my bike was situated so once I got to it I could see the Greek flag flying directly ahead of me. (I'm half-greek, by the way, in case you didn't notice by my ridiculous name). I chatted with other teammates, did a quick warm up run with one of them and got my last normal conversations in.

My wave started at 9:15 and lucky me again, my age group was the purple caps and since that is my new favorite color in 2013, I decided that it was a good omen. So the race starts, and I started swimming with a quick pace, just fast enough to get a good place in the pack and then dialed it back a bit. I love swimming so this was the most laid back part. I noticed that I started navigating through blue caps, which was the wave that started before us, and even some men that had started in waves before them. I am very lucky to be a strong swimmer in my adult years, and I feel fortunate that it is not something I struggle with because all I could think about was how it feels when you're swimming and not getting anywhere, and it's not fun. I swam in elementary and junior high and I used to feel like that. So either I got proportionately faster recently, or I was just an average swimmer among amazing ones back then in my youth.

So we round the buoy and finish up the second half of the swim, and I'm already thinking about being out on that bike course. I got back into the transition area and had a decent transition time of around 5 minutes and then was off on the bike. One teammate cheering yelled at me while I was leaving the transition area and said "you had a good swim, now chill out on the bike," or something to that effect and I took it to heart. Meaning, don't blow your bike by going all out in the beginning which is something I've been known to do. So I kept telling myself to tone it down, relax, don't start drinking anything for the first 10 minutes, just revel in the fact that one leg is done, and there's a long day in front of me. See coaches, we learn things.....

The bike was what it is, hilly, hot, windy at times....but I did a good job at pacing, hydrating, hammering the hills when necessary, and taking it easy when I could. There is a hill called Beach hill (nowhere near a beach, I don't get it, anyways!) that's maybe a couple miles after the transition area, and it's steep but I did alright with it, not trying to kill my knees but also not letting inertia slow me down too much. Oh and another great thing about this race is the spectators, and there was a very courageous girl holding a sign....and from far away it looked like she was wearing a flesh colored--- no, wait, she just was topless. Ok, I just hope she was wearing lots of sunscreen!

I don't remember at what point this was taken, but my guess was early on in the bike. I'm looking pretty fresh and rosy at this point.

One of my best friends did this course three times and her fastest time was a 5:53. (Holy mother, that is fast!!!) So while I knew there was no way I was going to get anywhere close to this, I thought at least I could get a 6:15. Based on my calculations of my time on the bike, I thought that if I had a really good run, I might meet that goal. Oh silly, silly me.

I got to Nasty Grade which is the queen B*$^# of all the hills we have trained on and I was still making decent time. All I really remember is passing a lot of people (what can I say, hills are my thang), mostly dudes I might add. I remember one guy telling me that I had a nice pace and I just said, "I'm just trying to get it done!" Which then I felt a little guilty about, I mean, everyone is trying to get it done, I just meant that I try to get the hills done as fast as humanly possible so the pain is shorter-lived. But I was too tired to clarify.

Notice Nasty Grade? It's the second large hill on the bottom map. Yes, we have trained on comparable hills, but for some reason, NG still takes the cake as THE worst hill to face on a bike.

After Nasty Grade, there are a few more rollers (what a tease!) and then this magical descent that is terrifying and mind-blowingly fun at the same time. But it was getting really windy so I had to tuck down a bit to minimize the amount of wind I had to deal with. I just prayed that I wouldn't die, true story. Someone listened because I'm still here.

Ok, everything is mostly uneventful so far, right? I didn't see many of my teammates on the bike so I didn't know how harrowing the race had been for other people, I could only really think of what I was going through. And here is where it started to go badly.

While I hydrated a lot on the bike, which is good, I was also ingesting a mixture of Carbo Pro, HEED (electrolyte power) and more electrolytes in water. Think Breaking Bad, but without the whole danger factor. It tastes ok, but after almost 4 hours of it, my poor little stomach, or whatever started to get cranky. I got a massive cramp on my right side that spread to my back and while I can handle the occasional running stitch by changing my breathing pace, I've never gotten a cramp while riding my bike and I had no idea what to do. So my pace slowed a bit the last 8 miles and I started to panic because I could only envision what this would do to my run. Luckily, I had a whole other host of issues waiting for me out there so this really ended up being a non-issue.

I got down Lynch hill, which is a pretty fast descent into the transition area and this is when the waterworks started flowing a bit. Thankfully Megan, the campaign manager was there and saw my distress and called Coach Jason over. I was mumbling through some tears that I had a cramp but I wasn't sure I wanted help. Oh silly girl, just ask for some help. Coach Jason was very helpful and said that the cramp was probably just from all the sugars in my nutrition/hydration and that I just had to let it pass, and it was time to go out for my little jog, as he so sweetly put it. Ha!

Ok, I've been running for many years and while I have only done two marathons and a few triathlons, I've run countless 5k's in high school and college through snow, rain, extreme heat.....I've done it all. I once intended to run 20 miles to train for a marathon and accidentally overshot it by a few, and ran 24 miles alone, crying for the last 3 all the way home. But never, have I ever, had a more difficult, painful, HOT, emotionally exhausting run in my life as I did at Wildflower. Just thinking about it gives me the chills. Oh wait, that's just the wind, my window is open.

At every aid station I dumped a cup of water on my head, and tried to drink some water there. I had no interest in the nutrition/hydration I had in my bottles, it was the same stuff I'd been drinking all through the bike and unless it had magically turned into an IPA (my current beer of choice), I really wasn't interested. I thought I could maintain the pace I had started with, but that was before I entered into the backcountry part that I will from this point refer to as backcountry hell, where even the river that had been flowing a month ago had dried up. A month ago, I had run up all the difficult hills that people recommend to walk, but I'm a really stubborn person so I just had run up them like an idiot. Well. Not this time, no sir, even walking up them felt like the hardest thing in the world. Maybe if they gave us grappling hooks, it would have been easier.

After the backcountry hell part, which I thought was the worst thing ever (I forgot about the Pit, which is the last uphill stretch before the descent down Lynch hill), I started to feel a little less like dying while running through the campsite. I ran into Bobbi, and Coach Dave, and they were both encouraging. I had told Bobbi that I was trying out this new running form but I realized I was doing it wrong and it was making my lower back hurt, and she sweetly said "this is probably not the time to try out new things..." Oh so true, so true.

Through this stretch (this is mile 8, I believe, out of 13) spectators offer the following: strips of bacon, bourbon, water, more bacon....later on there's someone offering a beer bong. I declined everything because I thought I would get sick. Then onto running through the campsite where there are a ton of supportive people, and EVERYONE yelling "Go Team!" Some people said I was looking strong, which I know was a flat out lie...I hadn't started openly crying, and I did appreciate their support, albeit I know I looked like hell. Can't blame them for trying, right?

The best moment of this portion of the run was when someone dressed up in a Gumby suit ran a few feet with me. He said,"I'm going to run up this hill with you," and I said "I'm going to remember this for the rest of my life!" Thanks Gumby, you saved me 5 seconds of hydration by preventing the waterworks just a little bit longer!

The Pit. The. Pit. It is named this, not only because you run DOWN about 1 mile, only to have to run UP the same stretch, all the while seeing people run/walk ahead of you, knowing they are that much closer to being done with this awful run than you. No, it's called The Pit because it feels like taking the scenic route through purgatory down to hell. I mean, it's beautiful, that's true, but my knees, lower back, and hips were so very mad at me, it's like they were just prepping for a further descent into hell. Might as well equalize temperatures inside and out, right? Yeah.....

So there is a timing mat at the turnaround, meaning there is no way to cheat on this run. Not that anyone would, there is just no glory in taking short cuts. I made my way around the mat and began the ascent UP The Pit. Flashback to a month before, I still had not walked a single step, I even ran up this stupid hill. But a month ago it was not 95 degrees, and we had done the swim and bike the day before, not earlier that day. Different circumstances.

It's a weird thing to cry while running. If anyone wanted to see an example of a semi-adult at their absolutely most pathetic, they only had to see me then during those last two miles. I literally had tears running down my face and spectators had to ask if I was ok. Well, clearly, I was not ok, but I do appreciate the concern. One spectator asked "you ok sweetie?" And I nodded my head, but the tears drew attention to me and then other people started noticing the crying girl (I know I wasn't the only one, but seriously, everyone else looked not nearly as miserable as me). And because I was crying in public, I felt humiliated and tried to run again.

So I ran and walked, and ran and walked....and honestly I considered just stopping but I decided I had no choice left, I had to get back to the stupid finish line. One kid yelled at me and said "remember what you're doing this for!" If I had more energy I might've been annoyed, but I was a blubbering mess so I felt slightly encouraged.

The last mile I thought of a family member, that does not have cancer, but has been afflicted with many health problems for many, many years, so I decided I was doing the last bit of the run for him. And even though my running those last couple miles can't help him feel better, I felt like if my suffering at the moment could take away some of his, even briefly, then it was worth it. I know, backwards logic, makes no sense really now, but at the time, it got me up that last hill.

I look pulled together. It's a lie, I was just faking it for the cameras!

The greatest part of the race....after the swim, which I could do even now it was so nice, was the finishing chute. I finally started running again, like really running, and ran all the way to the finish. There are flags lining the chute, on a blue carpet, and people in bleachers cheering, and even now thinking about it, the tears are welling up. They even announce your name when you approach, and the guy didn't butcher mine, which I thought was most impressive.

I will work on my finishing line arm raise for Vineman, this was kindof pathetic.

And then there was the absolute best part, seeing many of my teammates and coaches at the end. I also saw some who didn't get to finish the course and it broke my heart to see that, because they put in just as much hard work. They didn't get the finish line that they deserve at Wildflower that day. But next time, next race, they will, and I can't wait to be there to witness their moments of finish line glory.

It tastes like......sweat and tears, lots of tears....and metal.

I love these people!!!!

At the very end of the race, I was of course crying again (I said that before, right?) and Coach Jason asked what was wrong and put his arm around me and I muttered "I hate the run!" and he said "everyone hates the run!" So true, so very true.

Well, there you have it, my harrowing story (there are countless others, I know that) of Wildflower Long Course..... a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike and 13.1 mile run of sheer hot, difficult, emotionally draining, dry, windy, painful, glorious......awesomeness. It took me 7.5 hours. And like the short-lived memory of a really good hangover, while I said I would never do it again while I was on the run, a couple days passed and I am already thinking about Wildflower 2014.

And now, on to the final destination, Vineman 140.6.

Go. Team.

It's 21 minutes until my birthday, another year down....33 years on the planet.

I have to say, what an incredible past few months. Last year around this time, my life was ok, nothing too spectacular, nothing really amazing....just taking it day by day and getting by.

In the past few months, I embarked on something really crazy and different, I joined a team of people with a like-minded purpose; people that love to swim, bike and run like crazy, and people that really care to be making a difference in the lives of others. As Charlie Sheen would say, I am "winning" big time by being a part of this team.

To recap last weekend:

We drove to Westlake Village area, one of the several weekly spots that we alternate between for our Saturday practices. We rode for nearly 82 miles in windy, hot, dry, hot...did I mention windy? And hot? Anyways....it was all of the above. It was tough, it was fun, it was also really beautiful. I saw teammates push themselves beyond their limits, as well as witnessed some understandable tears.... I was probably too dehydrated to cry myself (I certainly did cry a little during last weekend's 15 mile run at Manhattan Beach, but that's a different story) but I did feel delirious during the last 10 miles and felt like laughing at one point at the sheer stupidity of our undertakings....but inspired by the intrepitude of my awesome teammates, I finished like everyone else.

Oh that bottom sign was such a blessing! I had just climbed a steep incline for about 10 minutes!

I had trouble answering some questions at the end of the 60 minute run that followed that crazy ride...maybe it was from the heat? I have no idea....my knees felt like they wanted to puke. (Is that even possible?) And both of my inner thigh muscles cramped in a fit of rage within 15 minutes of each other when I was eating and drinking post workout with my team....I guess I could've cried but it was still too much fun to be bothered with tears.

I'll tell you what did get to me though. It has been a little over a week since the Boston Marathon bombings. An event that will unfortunately be emblazoned in many people's minds for years to come. My brother and wife and my three adorable nephews live in Boston and for several moments after the blast, I wasn't able to call them. For several moments, I did panic and thought on the off chance that they might be at the finish line, cheering on friends. They do have a good friend, Cris Poppa whom I have met on one of my Boston trips who ran, and he is just as fast as one of my teammates, finishing the race maybe within about 5 minutes of one of my coaches. So for a moment, I worried that they might have been in the same area as those unfortunate souls who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thankfully, I was able to send them texts and they weren't anywhere near the finish line.

Relief. For me at least....

But not for many people, and it hurts many to know that their people were in fact, in the wrong place at the wrong time. There are many people who have a hole in their lives and their hearts that can never be filled. And there are countless others who have to rebuild their bodies and their lives in ways they could never imagine they would ever have to. And there's the rub.....

We just never know what tomorrow brings so we must embrace today in all of its glory, ugliness, irritation, inconvenience, beauty and possibility....both the negative and positive.

What got me through the ugly parts of Saturday's ride, and also Sunday's run (which I'll get to, its a bit more uplifting and quintessentially LA.....) is seeing the chalk writing that the summer Tri team wrote on the bike lane at various points of our ride.

"Do It For Boston!"

Hell yes, I will do this for Boston. I will do this for Boston, and I will do this for those that just got a terrible diagnosis. I will do this for those that are still fighting their fight against cancer, and I will do this for those that fought back the monster and won.....

I'm going to keep going because I can, until I just can't anymore....and since every day is a new day, I will live in denial that the day that I can't do it will ever come. Because that day won't ever come.

On Sunday we embarked on a wee little 17 mile run along the course of CicLaVie, which is when Angelenos happily leave their cars at home, and get to ride from downtown to LA on one side of Venice blvd that is completely closed off to traffic. It is a glorious and surreal event for LA. At any given time in LA, people are driving. Anywhere, anytime, for any reason, we drive because it is an enormous city and the public transportation system, while constantly expanding, can probably never cope with the breadth of space that people need to traverse regularly. But for a few days out of the year, CicLaVie gives people the opportunity to ride anything they want that isn't a car, from downtown to the beach.

IronTeam CicLaVie conquerors! At the midpoint of our 17 mile run....that's the intersection of Fairfax and Venice, we started at Tower 26 in Santa Monica!

I started out running thinking that I would opt for some walk intervals at every mile. While I have yet to embrace run/walk intervals like other smart people on my team, I decided to try it out this time, because I've been having trouble coping with some chronic hip and knee pain that keeps cropping up in runs longer than 8 miles.

I kept up with several of my teammates for the bulk of the run, and I'll admit, that I think the run/walk intervals did alleviate some of the trauma of running that distance. But at mile 14, despite my careful respect of the intervals, the new hip/knee pain monster was paying a visit. It wasn't until mile 14 that I remembered what my chiropractor told me....that I need to engage my glutes when I run so my hip flexors aren't doing all the work. Granted, it was a bit late in the game, but tightening up my butt muscles and consequently my abs while I ran did alleviate some of the strain on my hips, but this is not something to realize at mile 14 of a 17 mile run, it's best to invest in this strategy from mile 1. Live and learn....run smarter, not harder!

Towards the end of the run, a few of my running pals had fallen a bit behind our larger posse and I was trailing....my friend Naomi would call out our walk interval times and I desperately tried to keep my focus on her and another teammate for the last mile even though I really wanted to give up and crawl back.

But.......I remembered Boston again, and I sucked it up and finished....

So it's now my birthday, I have been blessed to make it one more year, and I intend to do everything I can so someone else can make it to their next birthday. With this being said, please help us help them with a donation in any amount. Let's do it for Boston, let's do it for everyone that needs it.

Love and birthday cupcakes....

Before you read my blog entry, please take a look at a little music video I made of a couple of our past Ironteam rides through beautiful SoCal. I wrote the music a while back and edited the video to the music (which is waaay easier for me than the other way around!)

SoCal Riding

It's week 24 in my Vineman Ironman training. And let me honest, this is getting tough. Of course, the last 23 weeks had some challenging moments amidst a relatively steady ride but as the miles creep up, the mental, physical and emotional challenges become more glaring and scream for more of my attention.

Yesterday's bike ride started out fine. The plan was for a 76 mile ride up and down PCH, hitting a few of the canyon climbs. M bike had just gotten a tune-up and a full cleaning so it was like riding a new bike. It was a bit foggy and drizzly out on the PCH, but my teammates and I tackled the hills with our usual intrepid enthusiasm, at about 7:30am.

I was doing fine, settling into my normal pace, and all seemed well. Silly me! I had to stop because one of my water bottles flew out of the middle cage, which for some reason is oversized and I will need to replace it. Ok, minor hiccup. At about mile 35, I got a flat....a rear one, which is harder to change because the tire is encircled in a greasy bike chain and a spiky derailleur. I haven't had a lot of flats in my amateur bike career so I was hoping to get some more practice before my actual race. Well, be careful what you wish for, because you might just get what you want!

I went to work trying to change the flat. Meanwhile about 30 different cyclists sped by, mostly my teammates, along with some other errant cyclists. Everyone called out and asked if I was ok and if I had everything I needed to change the flat. I called out "yes, I'm ok, I got everything" --- Which was ....true, except for the confidence and speed in dealing with a flat tire. Since this was a brand new tire, it was super stiff and it was physically tough to pry the innertube free from the ferocious grip of the tire. Once I got the tire off, which seemed like a million years later, I made sure to feel the inside of the tire and check for any pokey things that would just pop the next tube, and I didn't find anything. Granted, everything was kindof dirty and things were falling over all over the place, with my clumsy tire changing skills being put to the test. Anyways, I got the damn thing back together....about 30 minutes later. A random cyclist helped me pump up the tire with a C02 cartridge and a past TNT coach also helped me put the wheel back on my bike and in the correct position. So....I was off, on to tackle the next 40 miles.

Or so I thought.....

At the bottom of one of the monster hills our coaches like us to climb (it's called Latigo, I like to pronounce it with a Spanish-language accent, but apparently I'm incorrect in this)...I could feel that my rear tire was going flat again. I was a bit frustrated, but at least there were some people around that were providing SAG (that's short for Support and Gear, or maybe it's Supplies and Gear? Regardless, water and Gatorade....) for some other cycle teams. So I used a bit more of the C02 in my rear tire and hoped that this would do the trick, but in the back of my mind I knew that if it was going flat again, it meant that there was another itty bitty hole letting air out, and just reinflating it wasn't a long term solution.

About a mile up Latigo, I stopped again because....that's right, you guessed it, my rear tire went flat again. Another cyclist stopped and asked me if I needed any help and I said I was alright, that I had everything....but now my confidence was shot and I was unsure of why I couldn't get this situation solved. Mind you, I was probably 45 minutes behind where I would've been, and at least another 30 miles to go. A few more cyclists showed up, two men and one woman....and I finally just gave up and let someone take over the reigns. This woman, who I learned is involved with the AIDS Lifecycle ride, and who knows one of my college acquaintances, was amazingly helpful, patient and had really cool tools. We found the tiny little leak in the tube, patched it up, put the tire back on and I was sent on my way. I figured out what the woman's name is through my college friend, and I am planning on donating to her fundraising campaign as a way to say thank you.

Ok, so after 2 and a half flat tires, I was feeling pretty deflated (yuk yuk, no pun intended). But I trudged on for another 30 miles. At the top of this monstrous climb, I began the descent....and I thought I heard something fall off my bike, or at least maybe it was just something I rode over. I thought, hey, it's nothing, keep riding. About 5 minutes later, one of my water bottles flew out of a rear bottle cage and fly across the road. Seriously?? Someone's got some bad bike karma today. So again I got off my bike and retrieved the bottle only to see that the top had broken in two; the other half apparently was the thing that I ran over 5 minutes prior. Oy. Vey.

Fast forward to the second climb up Encinal about 10 miles later. At this point, I was probably over an hour behind of where I would be based on my pace. I have a pretty steady pace, and I'm not too shabby climbing the hills, and love downhills so I can make up some time for little pit stops...but not hour-long pit stops. So I started climbing up Encinal and I was partially feeling annoyed and frustrated, and maybe just a pinch sorry for myself (or at least for my stupid tire). I was also getting bored so I tried to name all of the animals I could think of that start with each letter of the alphabet. "Aardvark, Ant, wait, no that's an insect.....Antelope, etc....

The hill got harder and I had to stop with my naming game to focus....and then that's when I saw a fallen down sign that read:

"You think this is tough? Try chemo!"

Ok....that did it for me. I put on my big girl pants and decided to get it together for the last 25 miles.

On to Sunday's workout, which was much less dramatic, but a lot more painful. (I'll make this the short part of this blog entry). We swam for about 1.5 miles, which was mostly uneventful except for the exit which almost resulted in a nearly head on collision with some bodyboarders. Come on kids, it's called "paying attention," and it's not just for land-lubbers. After the swim, I took about 20 minutes transitioning (this won't happen during a race) into my run gear and I set off on what I was hoping would be an equally uneventful 15 mile run.

I was wrong. This mo-fo hurt, for about the last 7 miles, which is almost half of the run. I stopped and tried to stretch things, but to no avail. I tried to walk little bits here and there, but that just prolongs the agony of being out on a long run. I reasoned that it's time for new shoes which is perfect timing, since my birthday's coming up! (No, I'm not hinting to anyone...teehee) There were times when I was running so slowly, I could've "gotten out and walked faster." I was reminded of my college cross country days when everything hurt from my waist to my toes for about 2 months of the season. I'm reasoning that I'm a smarter person and runner now, and I will do things so this does not become a constant reality.

This run was a bit soul-crushing, and I almost cried a bit, but it almost took too much energy to muster up any tears so I gave up and dragged myself the rest of the way to the end. Coach Jason and Coach Dave looked at my painful swagger and told me I was done...which, basically was the case as I was almost at 15 miles. Good enough for government work, eh?

This stuff is obviously challenging, but it is also an amazing learning experience. The scenarios are extreme enough to be learning lessons that probably couldn't be learned elsewhere. So this is what I learned:

1) I hate accepting help and strive to be self-sufficient and independent. But honestly, sometimes, I need help and it's ok to accept it. My favorite quote from any TV or movie is when Jack from the TV show "Lost" says "Live together, or die alone." So true. Though a flat tire probably isn't going to kill me, but you get the idea.

2) My stubborness is sometimes a burdensome quality, but yesterday I was thankful for it. It sucked coming back so late on Saturday, I mean so late that people were packing up pretty much as soon as I came back from the 60 minute run that followed the bike. And if anyone knows the Ironteam post work-out, they know that we are excellent at lingering for long periods of time, eating, drinking recovery drinks and foam rolling on yoga mats... in parking lots.

3) I've been questioning my involvement in this at times (mostly when the runs hurt) and whether it's worth it at this juncture in my life. I'm going to be quite honest here....I don't have any close friends or family that have been affected by blood cancers. There is a lot of cancer in my family's history, and parents of my friends have unfortunately passed away from various forms of cancer, but not specifically blood cancers. I'm one of those people that overanalyzes things and needs to see the connections to what I'm involved in...being a musician and creative person has a lot to do with it. But I have come to this conclusion through all of this. Helping people that need it, is still helping people. The woman that helped me with my second flat tire didn't do it for any reason other than that I needed assistance to continue on with my ride. And that's plenty of a reason enough for me to continue with this crazy, difficult, but amazing experience.

So, with this being said, let's help some people......if you can donate $100 or only just $1, remember, it's still helping people with cancer live better lives and all of us someday live in a cancer-free world.

Rome was not built in one day....

Go Team!

Smiling with the UltraTeam runners

I'm planning on writing a more interesting blog here (I know, I know, hold the drum roll please) probably after this weekend, as I'm also putting together a cool little video from our ride last weekend at Zuma Beach. That will take some time... you can't rush creativity, ya know? Especially if you're an uber-amateur video editor like myself.

But, what I do need right now, is sponsors!!! I'm only 31% into my fundraising goal, and while it's not shabby, it's not nearly as great as I could be doing. I started on this journey because I wanted to participate in something big, even if I'm only supplying a small part of it. Well, I want my small contribution to be bigger because it's important to push past one's boundaries. So....I'm looking for mileage sponsors.

Can you sponsor me for a 1$, 5$, or 10$ for each mile of the Ironman? You pick the mile and the leg, and I'll do the mile. Even more, I'll write your name on my body somewhere, take a photo, and you'll see your "sponsorship" contributions at the end. Right now I am honoring one person's loved one, but I have a lot of room left! If you donate, tell me the mile you're sponsoring in the comments section, and I'll write in your name here!

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DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you everyone for your support!!!

This is what an awesome team looks like!

We just came back from Desert Tri this weekend, which for some people was their very first triathlon. Cherry Tri popped!

It was a great weekend of training and racing with an amazing group of people. I was inspired by the toughness and heart of so many of my teammates, and continue to be inspired by the walls and personal obstacles that everyone keeps toppling over.

Personally, I had a pretty awesome race day (I have a whole 2 other triathlons to compare it to, but anyways), much of which I attribute to the coaches amazing training, and also not screwing up my nutrition like I apparently have been doing for my whole, very short, racing career (ha.) What? I have to add electrolytes too? Yeah...oops.

A calm pretty lake before a Desert Storm! (I couldn't resist the bad pun, sorry.)

But I had a pretty terrible run on Saturday during our training day, much of what could be

attributed to shoddy nutrition and the soaring heat. And I know everyone experienced the same heat, but when you race and train, despite the support of your teammates, you're still racing and training alone. No one is going to make your legs move but you.

It was hot on Saturday, and we had already ridden 24 miles on a very flat, fast course. I thought I was doing pretty well, and didn't feel any twinges of exhaustion or abnormal muscle fatigue. We got to the run and the heat was pretty oppressive, and I don't mind extreme heat, at least in small doses. And I've been blessed with a really tough and not so delicate system, so I have a tendency to take chances and be a little ignorant of hydrating....not adviseable by the way.

I started out running at a pretty decent pace, averaging around 8:30 but I just started to fall apart pretty soon into the run. Like running in sludge if sludge felt like 95 degree heat. Towards the end, or the end that I thought would never come, I really was questioning what I was doing this for again. If I felt this terrible now during a 6 mile run, how in the world would I be able to last through an entire Ironman? So I really tried some mental trickery and went through the list of every person that has donated to my fundraising campaign so far, and I made sure to visualize their name and face as I went down the list. (I think a lot in pictures so this is not that difficult to do).

And it really did help me, to think of all of you that have donated to my campaign so far to fight cancer, that each of you believe in me or any of my teammates enough to throw down a credit card and part with some of your hard-earned money, so that someone else out there might get the chance to do what I'm so lucky to be able to do, despite the ridiculous heat, and the sometimes tough training days. So thank you everyone, you're all amazing and you're heroes to those that the LLS is working so tirelessly for.

Keep on keeping on! I am only 31% closer to my goal of raising $6,000 so I have a long way to go.....any bit helps. 1, 5, 10 dollars.....any amount will help give someone a chance at survival.

Ok, I couldn't resist one transition area shot. And I PR'ed!!! There, I said it.....I ran the fastest I've run in a race I think since I was 21.

Greetings!

We are now officially beginning week 16 of what I will now refer to as "cray cray training." We've had some major training practices in the past couple weeks; I'm going to share the highlights. In no particular order, I biked the farthest I've ever biked two weekends in a row (50 miles 2 Saturday's ago, and 56 last Saturday at Zuma Beach); climbed several insane hills; rode in both 35 degree weather, and 72 degree weather a week later (Go SoCal inconsistency!); ran 10 miles last weekend in Griffith Park and then 11 miles up some more hills yesterday; got scared on the bike with a windy descent down a 7% grade hill in maybe, 40 degree weather.....and....the best is yet to come.

I'm going to share more photos than words in this blog posting because I actually didn't have many thoughts in the past few weekends that I can recall other than "ouch," "say what do you want us to do?" "how many miles?" "what time are we starting?" "Go Team!" and maybe another "ouch." Oh, and "it's cold."

Here we go!

Hansen Dam/9 mile run:

By the way, that water was FREEEEZZZZINNNGGGG! Even with a wetsuit.

Me running afterwards.....I made sure to sortof try to smile, otherwise I look angry (as per my usual picture pout.)

(Photo courtesy of Alexander Sun....I mean, it says it right there ----^-----------^---------!)

The beginning of the most frightening cycling descent I've ever experienced....and I don't scare easily on the bike! It looks real purdy, but the operative word being "looks." (Side note, I cried a little. But I wasn't sure because it might have just been frost on my bitterly cold and exposed face.)

(Photo courtesy of the amazing Paiwei Wei)

Last Saturday, we biked 56 miles starting at Zuma Beach and did a tour of a couple canyons. This is a shot from halfway up Latigo, which was a real bear of an incline. I really wanted to capture these views, despite the fact that I would be ruining my incline climbing mojo for a few hot seconds. I think it was worth it. Although, I didn't realize that this really was the halfway point, and the second half was harder than the first. Ever heard the term "dig deep?" Well....this is the kind of activity from which the phrase is spawned.

And last, but certainly not least, there was yesterday's 11 mile run up to Inspiration Point. And then down, and then up to Ocean and San Vicente, and then up San Vicente, and then down to beginning of Amalfi and then up-----ok, you get my drift. There are a lot of ups and downs with the IronTeam!

Thank you for reading my photo blog! Really, I'm probably too tired to write a proper blog so photos are just an excuse. But they are certainly are of some beautiful places, aren't they?

Until next update post week 16, which we are told is a recovery week. Nice! For IronTeam, that just means only one cray, not two, cray cray's.

We do this because we can, perservering for those that can't. Please donate, any amount helps those fighting for their lives against blood cancers.

Thank you!!!!