"It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me"
It's been a minute since I've regaled the inter webs by spamming Facespace and Instatok with intricacies and travails of my desire to play stupid games and win stupid prizes, but after three sub-par performances in a row, I figured it was time to unload some mental baggage. To borrow from my old friend Frank Costanza, "I've got a lot of problems with myself, and now you're gonna hear about it!"
The Setup:
My last great Ironman was November 2023 at Ironman Florida. In 2024, I had a great season of 70.3s leading into Kona (which you can read about it in my last post). 2025 was mostly awesome. I raced six 70.3s and was top 5 in all but one (including my first AG win). In September, I went into Ironman Chattanooga with lifetime best fitness and ended tingling all over and lying in a pile of my own puke on the side of the road (Easy ladies, I'm married). A big DNF reality check brought the stark reminder that no matter how much I prepare, the best laid plans often don't work in a sport with so many "unknown unknowns".
Race Week/Morning
In the days leading up to race, I did my best not to sabotage myself though the mind started playing tricks on me as per usual. "You are getting fat", "You are getting out of shape", "You haven't trained enough", "Are you really going to do this again", "Father time is undefeated, and you are old". As the hours draw near to an Ironman I have a transcendental experience where I slowly begin to realize the enormity of what I am going to put myself through. It happens every time. With each passing day I find myself questioning all of my life choices. As I write this, I have taken this pattern as a given, but that ignores I have agency in this process. *Note to Self- Be grateful in the lead up...not just race Day*
The day before the race, I did brunch of Blueberry Pancakes and Blueberry Cornbread and then wrapped up the day with half a pizza. I was in bed by 8:30 hoping for a relatively calm night. By pre-race standards, sleep was better than average. I rarely sleep the night before a race. I slept until about 10:30. From 11-2, I woke up once an hour and from 2-4, I woke up every 30 minutes. I had some night sweats which is typical the night before a race. At 4:00 a.m., I was up and ready to prepare for the long day. Pre-race breakfast was old reliable, 
3 packs of instant oatmeal and applesauce (120 g carbs) while sipping on a bottle of PH1000 leading up to swim start. I did forget my typical Celsius, Diet Coke combo which resulted in a bit of a caffeine headache, but otherwise did not have any major impact. I sucked down a Maurten160 gel 30 minutes out from race start.
3 packs of instant oatmeal and applesauce (120 g carbs) while sipping on a bottle of PH1000 leading up to swim start. I did forget my typical Celsius, Diet Coke combo which resulted in a bit of a caffeine headache, but otherwise did not have any major impact. I sucked down a Maurten160 gel 30 minutes out from race start.Race morning was otherwise calm. Transition setup went smoothly and I was able to navigate the split transition pretty easily. I enjoyed moments with Teammates/Friends Dwayne, Johnny, and Melissa. We were even graced by the presence of playful dolphins swimming in the St. John's river no doubt curious about all the commotion. I took it as a good omen.
Swim/T1
For once I was excited to swim. I have been consistently hitting the water 3-4x/week and have found a nice groove in the water. I attribute it to going back to wearing swedish goggles. Like He-Man channeling the magical powers of Castle Greyskull, I slipped those babies on and "I have the power".
The swim was billed as a fast downriver swim with outgoing tide. This turned out to be patently false for those of us in the early corrals. After the race, I came to find out that 7:30-8:00 is actually called "slack" and the tide doesn't go out until after 8. This made for an honest swim. As my splits were ticking off slowly, I actually got excited. No current is good for me! I would be putting extra time into the other athletes! What I didn't realize is that folks that started the swim had a huge tidal benefit and the fastest swims were from people that sent off between 8:00-8:10. I wouldn't have done anything differently, but it was interesting to know. This creates a weird swim dynamic where folks in the 60-90 minute corrals are getting a much bigger boost.
I was proud of my swim and felt strong the whole way. Honestly, it would end up being the only bright spot of the day. I left 3 minutes after the first athletes, and felt I was blasting past the rest as I made my way to the front. I had clean lines and was dialed in. If I left when the tide was stronger, I feel confident I would have been top 10 overall. Oh well! Still proud to have actually done enough swim work to capitalize on my oft underutilized and dormant skill set. Coming out of the water, the transition is quite long. You run up a false flat, hang a left, and run down a sidewalk for about a half mile. At this point, I'm feeling good. Crowds are hype, people everywhere, beautiful morning, big energy, nice steady run, taking my time, trying not to spike the heart rate. My plan for was execute as steadily as possible. My training, fitness, and experience gave me a strong indication that workmanlike day would get me a KQ so my mantra was "don't be spectacular, be good". I was trying to take the pressure off of myself. I saw my buddy Jeff Fejfar in T1, had a couple cups of water, and actually remembered to take off my swim skin (unlike Chattanooga). I was ready to showcase what I could do on the bike. LFG
Bike/T2
"Ground Control to Major Tom, Your Circuit's Dead, There is Something Wrong"
I set out on the bike and immediately tried to jump on my fueling plan. I onboarded 610 grams of carbs and 3000 mg of Electrolyte. Plan was to hit 120g/hour and space out the electrolytes during the course of the ride. Drink to thirst, and listen to my body when it wanted water. I anticipated a bike split between 4:35-4:45. I was going to race the first half closer to 130 bpm and the second half closer to 140 bpm. Based on my training this should have put me somewhere between 240-255 watts which my training said should have been well within my wheelhouse. I factored heat coming up with these calculations. In my dress rehearsal I did 3x60 min at 280 watts (at 130 bpm) so I felt 240 in the heat was a good target.
Usually in early miles I'm having to hold myself back to stay under 250 watts. Immediately 250 felt like a stretch and my heart rate was lagging closer to 130 despite high RPE. It didn't take long to realize that 135 HR was equating to wattage in the low 200s. By mile 30, I was struggling to hit 200 watts and could not get my heartrate out of the low 120s. It was so early, my mind was reeling. I was fucked and getting fuckder (yes I'm making this a new word). I could not make sense of it. I was trying to problem solve on the fly. Am I sick? Are my brakes rubbing? WTH is going on? I'm retiring, time to focus on my kids athletics...not a great line of thinking with 110 miles to go.
I wanted to quit at mile 30. I got off my bike at the aid station, and was looking to hit the eject button. It was cowardly, but I was waiting for one of the volunteers to ask if I needed medical rather than just asking for it. After a few minutes, I talked myself into one more aid station. Mile 60ish, same exact thing. Got off the bike with intentions to quit. A few more minutes contemplating whether I am tough enough to be this dumb. Ultimately decided to get to T2 before pulling the plug...but I was certain a finish was not in the cards.
The last half of the ride I could not hold 190 watts and I was trying...hard. It is the weakest I've ever been on the bike. For frame of reference, my recovery rides are typically at 190 watts. At mile 55 I could not contemplate pushing pedals for another 55 miles. My heart at times was under 120 bpm and I wasn't sweating that much. I don't think I was able to work hard enough to sweat my butt off. I felt so empty despite sticking to my nutrition plan. I have done more than 20 Ironmans and this is unequivocally the most I've ever suffered on the bike. There was no joy, no gratitude. I've never wanted to quit so badly. I was wobbly, couldn't hold aero. Everything was bad and getting worse.
At Mile 95, my teammate Sam Stopyra-Glover (5th place OA female) blew by me (also winning the women's race). She was kind enough to check on me, and I told her I was super ultra mega effed and pulling the plug. Sam did her best to rally me and implored me to finish. She kindly asked me to stick it out and finish because this was her first ironman. Expert level guilt tripping... A woman after my mother's own heart. She told me she sucks at running (Note- she doesn't), and we talked about her running 9 minute miles off the bike. I told her I would give my best, and try to pace her to those 9 minute miles. Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for me, she is too badass, dropped me and I never caught up (although it was great to watch her succeed from behind). The last 15 miles took 15 millenia, and I limped into to T2 feeling like I couldn't keep my bike upright. Despite my promise to Sam, I was going to medical and quitting.
I arrived to T2 35-40 minutes slower than planned. I was totally demoralized. I told my dad the day was over and walked into the medical tent. The kind medical volunteers took my vitals and let me gather myself for 10 minutes. Despite how I felt, vitals were normal. Nothing was overtly wrong. Medical told me if we went any further with medical interventions they had to DNF me. I started thinking, and a combination of factors overwhelmed my desire to quit. The magic elixir of Chatty's DNF, the support of Jeanna/Shay and my parents, and my teammates left me feeling I could not stomach watching everyone else finish, so despite my better judgment, I said fuck it and ran out of T2 knowing full well I was in for a rough ride.
RUN
I made my way out of transition, and took my time easing into a trot to the first aid station. I was going to access my inner William Wallace and salvage what I could with the panache of a stubborn man being disemboweled for his cause. If that meant a 6 hour marathon so be it...."FREEDOMMMMMMM".
Although the run was awful (and almost as long as the bike!), it was not nearly as bad to deal with mentally. I think because my goal shifted so drastically from sub 9 to surviving to the finish chute, all other pressures and expectations faded away.
At the first aid station, I loaded up my ice bandana and ice hat, chugged three cups of coke and set out with the false confidence of a man fueled only by high fructose corn syrup and caffeine. I don't know if it was the coke or the last gasps of my ego, but I was "somewhat" revived for 10 miles.
For most of those miles I was serviceable. I was running 815 pace but was stopping at the aid stations for ice and as much coke as I could get down. I think I even snuck one mile under 8 minutes (HEY GURL HEY). After mile 10 all bets were pretty much off. The emperor really had no clothes. 
On each of the loops I was able to see my family and each time I tried to express my gratitude. I was able to walk/run to mile 15-16, and then it was mostly walking. I didn't run a step between miles 20-24. I was a shell of myself, but got to chat with some really nice people. I talked for several miles with a gentleman who had almost been killed in a head on car accident and had lost more than 100 pounds leading into this Ironman. Now that's real inspiration!!!
On each of the loops I was able to see my family and each time I tried to express my gratitude. I was able to walk/run to mile 15-16, and then it was mostly walking. I didn't run a step between miles 20-24. I was a shell of myself, but got to chat with some really nice people. I talked for several miles with a gentleman who had almost been killed in a head on car accident and had lost more than 100 pounds leading into this Ironman. Now that's real inspiration!!!
Although the run was awful (and almost as long as the bike!), it was not nearly as bad to deal with mentally. I think because my goal shifted so drastically from sub 9 to surviving to the finish chute, all other pressures and expectations faded away.
I have no answers as to what happened. This build was as
good if not better than my last in Chatty, and that was my best ever. My dress rehearsal two weeks ago was incredible. I did the work, I checked the boxes, I prepared to the best of my ability. But that's the beautiful thing about Ironman. Even when you do everything right, it can go horribly wrong. It's a enigma wrapped in a conundrum. I learn way more from the bad ones than the good ones and I will always believe that. When you invest so much into something you want it to go well, and when it doesn't it can feel crushing....especially when your family, friends, and teammates sacrifice so much to help you achieve your goals. But there is so much beauty in that too. This sport is a community, and success is virtually impossible without that community. It is not lost on me that I am gifted with a body and mind capable of willing myself to extraordinary physical efforts, even when I think those efforts result in poor outcomes. As I am further removed from the race, I try to focus on this, and not my profound disappointment with outcome. Outcomes are great, but process is where the real marrow of growth is found.
I can't blame the heat and humidity. My race went south far earlier than would have been the case if that was the culprit. It was a factor, but not so oppressive that I couldn't have succeeded on a different day. I simply felt more smoked than I have ever been before. On a positive note, my bike setup must be fast because I still rode 5:07 at 40-50 watts lower than I was anticipating. Also, our new Mauna are straight up fire. It was comfortable and fast all day. They are also really photogenic!
In looking at my Oura ring data, my HRV completely tanked in the three days leading up to the race. I normally don't follow this closely, but in the past it has been an indicator before I get sick. I find myself a bit sick today, but that may have been coming home to a sick daughter and not actually being sick in Florida. It's hard to tell because of timing. My HRV on race day was the lowest of the year. During my 18 hour weeks, it would be in the upper 40s to low 50s. Race day was 23! Something was clearly wrong, and my body justifiably put on the brakes.
I went through so many emotions on Saturday. On the bike, I gave up multiple times and was questioning my "why". I was miserable, and that misery compounded my physical limitations. Was my attitude bad because of the body? or, did my body create the bad attitude? I'm not sure I'll ever know.
I am looking at possible causes. One obvious blind spot is fueling during my big blocks, and carbo loading during race week. This is something I struggle with due to my body dysmorphia and fear of getting fat during taper. I know this is objectively crazy, and sounds crazy to those that know me, but I want to pull back the curtain on the dark corners of my mind during taper. We are also going to work in high volume rest weeks during my blocks so my body is not quite as shocked during taper. My consistency can be both a gift and a curse. When you constantly fly close to the sun, occasionally you are gonna get a little melty. Hopefully between those two things, I will be back better than ever.
As always, thanks for taking the time to read. If you have any thoughts, ideas, or suggestions as to how my day unfolded, I am always happy to hear. I love to share what I learn and learn from others. Please feel free to share with anyone. I'll see you on a race course soon!
