The last couple of weeks has been a bumpy ride.

And by bumpy I mean it’s sucked to be in my body.

My Brain.

And by bumpy I mean it’s sucked to be the loved one of someone riding out this bumpy ride.

(and exhale)

Living with depression is no different than living with an addiction. I’ve been clean from my drug of choice for almost 24 years. 24 years is a long time to be clean and most people would just assume that calling myself an addict is unnecessary…

I am an addict.

While the drugs may not be coursing through my body and I’m not bound by the chains of addiction any longer, anyone who has walked through the doors of being any kind of addict (alcohol/food/sex/drugs/gambling) will tell you, you’re only a few bad choices away from walking right back through those doors and the next time you might not be so lucky.

I’ve had close friends make those few bad choices. Thinking this one time will be okay because they had their addiction under control. Yet many of them find themselves a) right back where they thought they wouldn’t end up or b) dead.

Living with depression is the same thing. You can be “cured” of depression through medication. You can be “cured” through therapy. You can be “cured” through proper exercise/food/movement. But let’s be totally honest here: depression is always lurking. It’s waiting to sink it’s claws into us. Silently in the corner just waiting for those few choices that start to bring the dark clouds over us again.

Maybe it’s not moving as much.

Maybe it’s eating more sugar than what we normally eat.

Maybe it’s not sleeping enough.

Maybe it’s the change in the seasons.

Maybe it’s reading a book that triggers emotions you weren’t (I wasn’t) expecting.

Maybe it’s not making the bed like you (I) normally do.

Maybe it’s spending too much time on the phone.

Maybe it’s having to deal with a new job.

Maybe it’s going home for 2 weeks and trying to figure out if home is still there.

Maybe it’s all of these things and before you (I) know it, the clouds are dark, the walls are closing in and Depression is rubbing it’s palms together at the excitement of enveloping you (me) and choking the life out of you (me) so much so that you (I) can barely get out of bed.

I’ve been in a dark place the last couple of weeks. It’s nothing I’m not familiar with. It happens, and just like I never forget that I’m an addict, I never forget that Depression lives inside of me and my daily choices will either a) lead me down a path of self destruction (self deprecation/self loathing/self hatred) or b) lead me down a path of self care (Loving myself/being Involved with myself/ having Faith in myself and Evolving). I thought “oh it’s okay I’m not breaking a sweat right now” “It’s okay I’m not really paying attention to my food too much” “No this book I’m reading isn’t bringing up any ‘stuff’ for me” “No I’m not feeling lost after seeing my niece get married and leaving Washington state” “no really I’m okay...“

But I wasn’t. I was pushing everything under the carpet hoping it would get better. I was ignoring the tell tale signs of how my depression manifests itself. I’m not 100% back to kicking ass/taking names but I’m recognizing that the direction I was moving was not okay and slowly turning around.

• I’ve moved a little more.
• I’ve made better food choices.
• I’ve tried to get a little more sleep.
• I’ve finished the book and recognized that it triggered me.
• I’m making my bed (which is the first sign that something is off).
• I’m staying off my phone more.
• I’m trying to shake that lost feeling and plant my feet firmly.

So here I am. Just exhaling and hoping that it won’t take me too much to get back into the swing of things but not really sure what that swing looks like at the moment. I’m not going balls to the walls with moving/running/training or hyper focused on food right now. I’m okay with that (and I mean I’m really okay with that). Sometimes you have to put aside all the chaos of losing weight and maintaining the weight loss and just be.

Just be.

Just exhale and be.

 

 

I blog…

Of that there is no doubt.

I spend a lot of time trying to weave words into something powerful to help you, me and anyone that hangs out on their own Life Changing Journey see that in us all things are possible. The focus here of course is weight loss and life long maintenance. I write a lot about emotions and feelings. Whether they be the kind that move us in a forward direction or the ones that leave us feeling like we’re swimming up stream against a current we just can’t match.

I don’t spend too much time just talking about me. The Tara that doesn’t feel emotional. The Tara that just gets up and lives life without too much “look at what’s going on inside my head”. The Tara that settles in at night with a good book and gets up wondering what kind of sweat to break in the morning…

So.

Let’s play catch up.

Food

I’m in a “not counting calories” mood these days. With Mimi doing Lean Eating, it’s important to me to support her 100% so all the new habits (life changes) they are using, so too am I. Learning to listen to my body (and not panic over food) and eat slowly (again, not panic over food) have been the main focus the last few weeks. This shit isn’t easy folks. I can’t just say “okay Tara, you have 500 calories and this delicious bag of chips so you can have (insert number of servings here)”…now it’s more about “Do you really want those chips? Are you bored? Are you hungry? This is not an emergency so you don’t need to eat those chips to fulfill that hunger…”

I’ve also been taking fish oil and probiotics every morning for the last six weeks and while I can’t tell too much of a difference, I have gotten used to the fishy burps that occur during boot camps or running….

Finances

I’m changing jobs again.

I’ve been at Pete’s for about 5 months but have decided to jump ship. I’m heading to Costco! The job is not glorious but I’m not ashamed to say I’ll be working in the food court. Those cheap ass (but oh so delicious) hotdogs that you just.can’t.resist? Yhea that’s gonna be me. Hair net and all. Don’t care. Better pay. Better benefits. And if you know anything about me then you know I’ve got my sights set on the bigger goals in Costco. Keep your eye on this girl(boy) cause big things are gonna happen! My last day at Pete’s is this coming Wednesday and without even a stumble in my step I begin my new schedule on Thursday.

Family

There’s a new addition in our family. My brother-in-law and his wife brought to our lives an adorable little itty bitty: “Sweet Pea”. It’s been a new experience for me, being part of a growing family. Not quite sure where I belong and a more than a little leery of getting attached, I’ve spent the last two months letting go of the fear of being an outsider and holding on to that beautiful baby, hoping that she’ll call me “Unkie T” when the time comes…

I miss my niece Amers something awful though. Her wedding is fast approaching and while she may not be all cuddly like Sweet Pea, she is still my baby and right now all I can think about is our trip back home in a few short weeks. We’ll be back West for 12 days. I’m looking forward to hugging the ever living daylights out of her (not too tight of course since I want to see her walk down the aisle), going to the Fair (my friends back home know what I’m talking about), seeing friends and of course spending all the days with my Mimi.

Fitness

The slump of the “post-Half Ironman” blues have come and gone. Running is back up and well….running I suppose. I’m not getting in the miles I would like but when I am out there I’m feeling pretty good about it. I’ve been focusing on some strength training and know that the two need to find a good balance. My pull-ups are off the hook (to toot my own horn) and that gun show is coming back with a vengeance (with a six pack to boot!). I’m sore more often than not and I like it that way…

So there ya go.

Tara.

Nutshell.

You?

Blogging.

As someone that has spent the last three years and 422 posts putting words to emotions / ideas / feelings / experiences I’ve become quite adapt at the concept of blogging. It’s as if each blog post is a seed and sitting down at my laptop is the growing process. Each time I sat down to talk about all the things I ended with something beautiful. A “flower”. One grown out of love, tears, sadness, confusion, elation, patience and maybe the most important thing: Understanding.

In the beginning I grew that garden like a wildfire. I couldn’t wait to sit down and analyze the next “step” in my life. Weight loss, divorce, transgenderism, marriage, body image, body transformation. You name it I probably have a space in my garden analyzing that shit. As time went on my life became much less complicated. I lost the weight. I survived the divorce. I began to understand my own transgenderism and combined with the weight loss, my body transformed. Tara on the outside became more congruent with the Tara on the inside, body acceptance (or at least a much more improved version than previous) fell right into place.

My blog was (and still is) a sense of peace for me. It helps me to slow down and think about my words. My life. The progression of where I was to where I am to where I hope to go. I sit at this laptop and pour my LIFE here because I know that somewhere out there is someone who thinks the way I used to think. That weight loss is NOT possible. That making life changes is NOT possible. That putting oneself first is NOT possible. I also sit at this laptop and pour my LIFE here because I know that somewhere out there is someone who thinks that by losing the weight, the world will finally be a happier place. That once you get down to a size 8 all your problems will magically disappear. That the shedding of the XXL clothes will somehow erase all the problems that got you into that XXL in the first place.

I have purposefully chosen not to “pimp” myself out to larger companies in an “oooooh pick me, pick me, pleeeeeease pick me as your ambassador” kind of way because I didn’t want every blog post (facebook status, twitter update) to be filled with links back to said company in hopes that you’ll click click boom buy said products using my secret link back code or what the fuck ever. The words I say, the pictures I post, the struggles I feel and the accomplishments made are on my own two feet. On my own tears. On my own doubts. On my own “I don’t know if this is possible but fuck it here we go people”. I don’t want to sugar coat this journey in the least bit.

It’s hard.

But well worth the fight everyday.

I want people to know (and understand) that not every one is going to step on to this path and become some crazy ass runner that PR’s every race. Not everyone is going to run an Ultra marathon every weekend or get on the cover of a magazine. Not everyone is going to end up on Oprah or sell a million books. Not everyone is going to get 20,000 likes on a Facebook page or get 1000 thumbs up on some random status update about practically nothing.

Some of us are just going to continue to run the miles that are needed to cleanse the soul. Some of us are going to push some serious physical boundaries but do it in a way that makes it possible for others to see that they too can move their bodies. Some of us are going to step back in the shadows of this blogging community and let the havoc of pimping someone else’s product happen elsewhere. Some of us are going to PR at living L.I.F.E (loving ourselves, being involved with ourselves, having faith in ourselves and evolving ourselves into the people we deserve to be).

Listen, weight loss IS possible. It comes with a lot of hard work and set backs. Acceptance of oneself IS possible. It comes with a lot of hard work and set backs. Life IS possible. It comes with a lot of hard work and set backs. The end of the proverbial rainbow may or may not be filled with a bunch of “I just ran a 6 minute mile” or “Nike is sending me another pair of shoes to giveaway”.  That’s not the norm. The norm is knowing that some days you’re going to feel like you are kicking the ever loving ass out of this journey and some days you’re going to feel like the journey is stomping you right into the ground. The norm is knowing that sometimes you’re going to go into a situation thinking you are totally in control only to come out of the situation having lost absolute control, taking a deep breath of “well that sucked” and moving on to the best of your ability. The norm is knowing that there are going to be days filled with singing birds, beautiful sunshine and a garden full of “I CAN”(s) and knowing that some days are going to be filled with cacophony of violent noises, gloomy dark clouds and a garden being choked out by “I CAN’T”(s).

As the blog posts here become fewer (and fewer) in between I don’t want people to lose sight of the fact that in us all things are possible. That we deserve to stand up and take control of our lives. To make choices and decisions that move us forward instead of standing on the sidelines wondering “when is it going to be my turn?”.

That turn is right here.

Right now.

What are you waiting for?

I’ve been blogging a long time.

Three and half years I’ve put my life changing journey out here for the masses(and by masses I mean the 150 or so people that click my blog each day) to read, digest, contemplate and hopefully then decide themselves to move in their own life changing direction. If it’s happen to me in the last 3+ years more than likely I’ve blogged about it openly.

Nothing has been off limits up to this point.

Marriage.

Divorce.

Marriage again.

Transgenderism.

Weight loss.

Body Image.

Eating “disorders”.

Mental Health.

Addiction…

I put myself out here because for much of my life I felt alone. Swimming against a current I couldn’t beat. Struggling to feel some sort of self acceptance when I looked in the mirror and all I got was self loathing. Finding emotional relief in foods that couldn’t call me FAT or STUPID or WORTHLESS and then trying to find more emotional relief in violently purging because eventually the hatred I felt towards myself  couldn’t be comforted by boxes of macaroni and cheese or half gallons of ice cream. As my emotional/physical health became a focal point in my life I felt compelled to share my story so that others wouldn’t feel like they too were all alone in what can be a very ugly world in which to exist.

Not that long ago I received my very first, what I would call “I don’t like you Tara” mail to a post I wrote about “showing up” to the Half Ironman competition. In hind sight I feel very lucky that after 400+ posts, some 500k hits and over 3000 comments this is my first one. I read it. Re-read it.Replied* directly to the emailer. Trashed it on the blog. Trashed it in my email and went about my business.

And yet over a month later I’m blogging about it.

Reflecting.

The following is verbatim to what was sent:

So, remember when you were an Internet panhandler? And you begged people for money you didn’t have to go to a fitness conference? (P.S. how dare you act like an entitled brat when you chose to leave your husband for Mimi and move to a foreign country and sit on your ass for 18 months)..So what happened to all that money you conned people out of?

And when are you going to stop beating the hell out of your body and believe that you’re worthy of love and you’re enough?

Sometimes I write about things and you only get a “small picture” version of the “Fuck this is BIG PICTURE shit happening right now”. Life can’t be summed up in a few paragraphs with a few pictures thrown in for good measure. You don’t see the internal battle that happens during this journey of changes both emotionally and physically. I try my best to condense a lifetime of “STUFF” into short bursts of coherent words. To help me better understand who I am, who I want to be and to not go down without one heck of a fight.

I may be an entitled brat for leaving my husband after being together for almost 10 years because I fell in love with Mimi and “sitting on my ass” for 18 months in a foreign country but as I step back from the email sent I realize that again most people only see what I allow them to see. What I choose to share. What you choose to understand. And more often than not there is going to be some personal feelings interjected into your personal opinions on someone else’s personal journey.

I’m not writing this blog as a “OH HEY NOW WAIT A FREAKING MINUTE HERE. LET ME DEFEND MYSELF….” The joy in learning to love who you see in the mirror is that you begin to understand that the love you so desperately fight to find happens without needing to defend yourself. No one knows what it was truly like to experience leaving Mitch. To leave the comforts of what had become my life because no matter what I had at that time I wasn’t happy. I didn’t love myself. Period. End of story. Give me a house. Two cars. A great career. A devoted husband. Friends. Money….

I didn’t love the being that was inside.

And no matter what was happening outside, things had to change.

Falling in love was never on my “To-Do” list. When I wrapped my arms around myself and held on with as much emotional strength as I could muster, repeating a million times over “you ARE worthy” something magical happened: The self love that was planting itself firmly in my being was reaching out. Not out of physical attraction because let’s face it, my whole life I’d thrown my body at any signs of attention. Fucking = Love. Right?  I was learning to love someone unconditionally and that someone happened to be on her own journey of planting those multiple seeds of self-acceptance, self-worth and fighting everyday to save herself emotionally while changing her body physically.

I didn’t write this playbook. If I was penning the story of my life before it happened this chapter might never have been written. In the two years I’ve been married to Mimi I’ve learned what it’s like to FEEL words like “marriage”, “commitment”, “patience”, “understanding”, “deserving”, “unconditional”, “dedication”, “protect”, “LOVE” instead of just saying them because we took our pants off and bumped girl parts and fucking = love, right?

And when are you going to stop beating the hell out of your body and believe that you’re worthy of love and you’re enough?

Isn’t that the million dollar question my friend?

When I look in the mirror or at a passing window, I still don’t see what the rest of the world sees. A successful 100+ pound weight loss story. A marathoner. An athlete with muscles. Don’t get me wrong I mean I know that’s who I am but it’s not what I see. I still struggle to release the morbidly obese Tara from my life. I struggle to turn down the voices of “you can’t” while blasting the speakers with “you can”. I still struggle to get out of bed some mornings because the emotional weight of self hatred is heavier than the emotional power of self love.

A life time of living in a world of “you’ll never be worthy enough” being egged on by “You’ll never be good enough” doesn’t just disappear because for the last three years I’ve been working towards a more accurate version of myself. Beating the hell out of my body is not just about pushing my physical limits but about taking care of my body. I spent 40 years shoving food down my throat followed by a spoon to bring that same food up so violently the blood vessels in my eyes popped. I spent years snorting and smoking meth and trying to get lost. I didn’t move. I laid down and accepted what I thought I deserved.

I’m not beating my body up now.

I was beating it up then.

I may not see what you see but I don’t look away from my reflection any longer. I stare. I linger. I love. I learn. And instead of laying down and accepting what I thought I deserved, I’m out in the world going after what I truly know I deserve.

Me.

And while sharing this “me” journey I realize not everyone is going to get it. You’ll take what you want and turn it around to better fit your beliefs, opinions and your “Well I certainly wouldn’t do x,y and z”. It helps to lash outward when what you’re really doing is wanting to lash inward. Take heed in your words. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. You only know what I choose to share. And just when you think you *might* know me you can believe things are gonna change up a bit because the beauty about this journey is it’s not a straight line from point A (birth) to point B (death)…It’s a winding path full of uphill battles and down hill victories. It’s full of twists and curves and “holy crap I didn’t see that coming”.

The journey is about living and for so long I wasn’t.

Today is a different story.

________________________________________________________________________________________

 

If I never learn another word of French may these words never leave my heart:

“ALLEZ ALLEZ!”

I’ve spent a few days wondering exactly how this blog post was going to write itself. Lets be brutally honest I never really know in what direction the words that fester in my mind will take when I sit down with laptop in hand and fingers flying across the keyboard. I keep trying to make some cohesion of what it was like to participate in what was one of the most scary, nerve wracking, stress induced, fucking totally awesome events of my entire life (and by life I mean the last three years I have been a full participate of this life I call my own).

So there is a little “method” to the madness of this post but in the end it might read a little chaotic because, again while I’m being honest in this post (cause you know I like to be honest while throwin down some words), my life was pretty chaotic the months leading up to earning that precious 70.3.

But you already knew that right?

Or maybe you didn’t. See, the last couple of months I’ve been very quiet during this “Ironman” journey. In all my other endeavors I’ve blogged openly. From the first 5k, the first 10k, first half marathon, and first marathon. I blogged about the training, the frustrations, the accomplishments, the blisters, the feeling of defeat and the ever loving feeling of “I am so kicking some serious ass!!!” But this. This time I kept most of it in. I shared what I could but (again with the honesty shit) it was sparse in comparison to the *other* life changing stuff because for the first time on this journey I didn’t know if I could actually step up to the starting line and move forward enough to cross the finish line.

It’s difficult to hear the barrage of people say things like “oh you can do it”, “look what you’ve been able to accomplish so far“, “we believe in you” when deep down inside what you want someone to say is “this is going to be hard“, “you will cry“, “you might not finish“, “Tara, your training has been good but let’s be serious about what’s in front of you and you need to be okay with whatever the outcome“

I felt like I wasn’t prepared. Both physically and emotionally. Probably more emotionally than physically but we all know they both go hand in hand. As the weekend came closer I stopped focusing on my physical well being and literally coddled my emotional self. Letting myself cry when needed. Allowing the panic to take over knowing it would pass. When I broke a sweat, I reminded myself that no matter what happened my heart was Ironman pure and whether or not I crossed the finish line, showing up was the real goal.

The Before…

It’s one thing to wake up in your own bed, in your own house, in your own town and step up to a starting line. You feel safe. More confident. Maybe you swam/biked or run the course to familiarize yourself and become comfortable. It’s another thing to get up at 3:30a (after working 15 days in a row) and drive 14 hours straight (3 provinces and one time zone) on the Friday before Sunday’s race.

I packed

and repacked

Then I repacked again.

I got Dusty all ready

(because I needed the reminder of who I was regardless of outcome while I drove)

And then we drove.

A really really really long time!

I hadn’t planned on getting to registration on the Friday we arrived. I thought I’d chill out for a bit, have a little food, maybe try to sleep and hit the ground running (pun intended) the next morning. But things never really go as planned and as soon as I pulled into Mont Tremblant I wanted to dip my toes in the “expo” waters (again pun intended) so I went and picked up my number. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing for me to do after being on the road for so long and ALREADY being an emotional mess.

I’ve never seen so many people “peacock” in one area before. Literally standing around with their bikes, looking at everyone else standing around with their bikes. It was kind of creepy. I kept thinking to myself “why do you bring your bike to pick up your race kit?” Was I missing something? I didn’t understand. Bike racking was Saturday. It was like some weird from of “cruising”. I felt way out of my league. Fancy wheels and “T” bars. Multiple bottle holders and technical machines attached to the handle bars. This was not your back yard triathlon. This was fucking Ironman and I was smack dab in the middle of it. This was serious business. Even the registration was serious business. Mimi and I tried to walk in together but they were having none of that. Athletes only. As soon as I gave them my name I started crying. I didn’t belong. They were going to laugh at me. Tell me to turn around and maybe when I have a better bike I could play….

“Tara, is this your first Ironman event?”

“Yes”

“You’re going to do great and we’re here to take care of you”

There were damn near 10 different stops just in the race kit pickup. Get your number. Get your bracelet. Fill out forms. Weigh in (what?????). Pick up bib. Pick up shirt. Okay hold on I need to take a breath! Pick up info packet. Here have a cool Buff in your favorite color (ORANGE!) from Merrell and finally let’s just double check that the bracelet matches the packet that matches the bibs that matches the I.D….

Take a close look at that picture. I’m not smiling. I don’t look excited. In fact I’m terrified. I’ve just finished bawling my eyes out having walked out of registration. I knew the emotions were going to be all over the place and I was okay with that. I didn’t get angry at myself. Every time I felt like I should just pack up and go home I reminded myself that this was something I’ve dreamed of doing since my love for triathlons was born. These people around me can peacock all they want. They were probably just as scared as I was and if they weren’t then maybe they’ve haven’t been on the same journey.

It was then the little seed began to be planted. Yes maybe they all had more expensive gear but we were all going to be moving the same distance. The 2 km swim they were doing: I was doing. The 90 km bike ride would be the exact same one I was doing. That half marathon to follow? Yhea I was running the same streets a these guys. Maybe they were faster. Maybe they were more prepared. Maybe they would cross the finish line sooner than I would but you can believe one thing: I would fight with every fiber in my being to cross that finish line. I stopped thinking about the people and started thinking about the miles. 70.3 miles. 70 of my toughest competitors. All I would have to do is knock them down one at a time. I saw a checklist in my mind. Mile one. Check. Mile two. Check. Until I got to 70…CHECK CHECK AND DOUBLE EFFING CHECK!

Race kit in hand I left as quickly as I had arrived because the day one of Operation “Holy Mother of God and Baby Jesus on a Unicorn I’m doing an Ironman” had officially begun and I was in need of some quiet time…

Here’s the part of the story in which I tell you about Brooke Brown.

As in Brooke Brown: Professional Triathlete

Go look, I’ll wait.

Want to know how I know her? Cause she was my bunk mate…well my condo mate I guess is a better term. That’s right people I shared a living space with one of the pro’s!!! Talk about intimidation. That is until I spent exactly 3 minutes with her and realized she’s just about the freaking nicest person EVER. I thought I’d be spending an entire weekend with one of those “peacock-y” people up at registration and instead I roomed with someone that had an infinity for trucker hats, brightly colored socks worn with flip flops and McDonald’s.

(I’m totally blackmailing her with this photo!)

Saturday was a little more hectic but not in a “OMG I have to drive 14 hours, remember everything I packed, and not get lost” sort of way. Up early (of course) and some semblance of a plan in hand I did a short 5k on the run route to at least get a feel for the course. This was the only time I had to myself the entire weekend and it was a much needed “come to Jesus” dialogue with myself. I knew by the time I was right where I was at that exact moment some 24+ hours later I would have completed the longest bike ride of my entire life after swimming 1.2 miles. I stopped on the trail and thought “If I can just get to the running portion I’ll be okay“. I know how to run. I know how to run through pain. I know how to get myself moving when I feel like I can’t take another step. I began to cry again because the feeling of “what if I don’t finish” was washed over with “It’s going to be hard my friend but YOU WILL FINISH“. Funny story about stopping on the course trail: When you run you can’t get bit by mosquitoes. I wish I had known that because in those 2 minutes that I stopped, I got about 50 bites all up and down my legs and may have screamed like one of those characters being chased in a horror movie as I ran back to the condo…

Thankfully it was too early for any one else to hear me.

Back to the condo, it was time to put on the wetsuit (for the first time!) and do the one and only open water practice swim I’d done before Ironman. That’s right people; my one and only open water practice swim happened less than 24 hours before my event.

  

 

This was a tough swim. I was only in the water for about 20 minutes and I was exhausted. I swam out to that tiny little white buoy you can barely see in the right picture (at the tip of the little island). Panic set in pretty quickly but I just reminded myself that I know I can swim 1.2 miles. I did it multiple times and regardless of doing in a pool I was going to be okay. I’ve done enough open water swim to know the cold is only momentary and once I get warmed up I’ll just let my body take over. I’d already given myself plenty of time to complete the swim portion. An hour. In the pool I could do it in 55 minutes. With the wet suit and the excitement of race day I was pretty confident I could do it faster but an hour gave me some wiggle room to relax.

Having taken these few little steps of getting to know the course a little better was probably the smartest thing I could have done. The 5k was on the run route. The swim was on the beach in which I’d start and finally a short drive to see what my friend Leanne called the “back 15″…the last 15 km (8 miles for my American friends) of the bike route. The first 75 I’d seen because it was the highway in which I drove in on. The last 15? It’s up Mont Tremblant…Mont meaning mountain. Mountain meaning…well you know: Long up hill climb coming in, fast down hill decent coming out. I’d ridden 75 km (46 miles) as my longest training ride and that was well over a month before Ironman. This was the part I was most worried about. Would I have enough energy to go beyond my longest ride and climb the winding roads of Mont Tremblant for an additional 8 miles? The pep talk (inside my head of course) went a little like this:

“Okay listen, you know you can ride Peppermint for 75k. Everything after that is still a win because you’ll have gone farther than you’d ever gone. But listen Tara, you know you can go another 4 miles! Yes it’s uphill, yes that’s gonna suck donkey balls but come on are you gonna let a measly 4 miles stand in your way????? Just 4 miles in. If you can get those 4 miles done then you got this IRONMAN in the bag! You turn around and come down hill then on to your strongest event: The running.”

Even if I didn’t *feel* ready, I was ready. Ready to start. Ready to conquer the fear of “can’t” and “you never will”. It didn’t matter the outcome because I’d already won. Just being in the middle of all this emotional chaos and still moving forward made me realize that even if for some reason the finish wasn’t happening for me I wouldn’t be afraid to keep trying. The fear of the unknown was what had plagued me the last three months.

What was unknown was known and what was fearful was no longer…

I racked Peppermint.

I gave her one last kiss and said “see you tomorrow”

I hit the expo and shopped my little heart out!

 

The Race!

Here it was. Ironman Mont Tremblant. 70.3. I slept great. Nerves were calm. I was ready. 70 of my toughest competitors were waiting for me to knock them off one by one and I was giving myself the entire 9 hours to do it. An hour for the swim, 5 hours for the bike and 3 for the run. My focus was the “back 15”. If I could get there and back before the 5 hours this race would be mine. I could walk a half mary in 3 hours if I could only run every few minutes. Nothing else matter except those back 15 and it would be a while until I saw them.

Transition box in hand, as much food as I could get down and a fierce need to get moving we head back down to the village.

Body marked.

(check)

Transition box in place.

(check)

Wet suit wiggled into.

(check)

Aaaaaaaand I got to pee!

Mimi and Leanne decide to head over to where I would be coming out of the water (in a totally different location than the start) so one last hug and “see you at the finish” found me all alone with 40 minutes until my start time. It was exactly what I needed. I got into the lake for the next 20 minutes, acclimating to the temperature and peeing in the wet suit for good luck (and since I peed like a gazillion times I gave myself A LOT of good luck).

Slowly but surely they made there way through the athletes until it was my turn. 150 of us all stood there on the beach waiting for the fireworks to go off. 150 of us 40-44 year old women about to embark on a 70.3 mile journey. I looked up at the sky, watched the flares light up the early morning, took a deep breath and began…

Swim 1.2 miles

This was a tough swim. Not because of temperature. Though apparently if it had been 2 degrees colder they would have cancelled the swim portion. It was tough because the younger competitors catch up to you right quick and just when you have a “groove” you’re getting swam over. I’m not a competitive swimmer. I’m not an angry swimmer. I’m an “oh look there’s a lot of people around so let me just bob here for a moment while you all pass me” kind of swimmer. The good grooves I was having were short lived just because I had to keep bobbing in the water waiting for other people to pass me. And I don’t know if you know how far half a mile is but that’s pretty far when swimming straight out into a big open lake…a very big, very open lake. I wasn’t worried though. In fact I didn’t think about too much of anything but staying on course, saying hello to the volunteers on surf boards and not running into the swimming feet in front of me.

It wasn’t until I was about 3/4 of the way through the swim that I began to feel a lot of fatigue. The muscles in my calf and feet were starting to cramp a little from the cold. I was sort of over the swim portion but unlike the pool couldn’t just stand up, hop out and shower off. I was worried the cramping would hinder the rest of the event. As soon as I could touch land and tried to stand up both my feet cramped up pretty bad but it subsided as soon as I took a few steps. People around me were jumping out and running towards the bike transition…

I looked at my polar.

53 minutes.

Hot Damn!

Let me walk to transition.

Oh side note: Wet Suit strippers are awesome!

It’s quite a ways to the bike transition so I’m not too eager to start running. The concrete is cold. People are screaming “Allez, Allez”, I’m feeling quite good and I just want to take in this moment. I’m in no big hurry so I wait to run until I hit the red carpet to give my legs a good “shake out” and get them ready for the bike portion. I have a lot of room at the transition area as most of the women I started with have already finished and headed out. Fine by me! I took the time to sit down, dry off my feet, cram some food in my face, put on my jersey and make sure I had all the food I was going to carry with me (and by food I mean GU and home made Larabars). Sunscreen on (check), Helmet (check), Sunglasses (check)…

Let’s ride!

Bike 56 miles

This really was quite uneventful. I mean I peddled…a lot. I looked at all the other bikes around me… a lot. I reminded myself that just because all these bikes had all the fancy smancy stuff we were all on the same course… a lot. Aerodynamic helmets. Aerodynamic wheels with no spokes. Fancy clipped in bike shoes. Peppermint wasn’t about to let some expensive bike make her feel like she didn’t belong. She rode like a champ. In fact she rode better than a champ. I didn’t need all that fancy stuff to get me through the first 75 km (46 miles). I needed my strong legs and Peppermint.

I was keeping as close to a 20 km/hr pace as possible and when I finally reached that pivotal 75 km mark I felt really good. I’d been eating/hydrating well. I wasn’t tired. I got to the “back 15” and saw Mimi, Leanne, Jen and Isabelle all waiting there to cheer me on. I gave them a wave to let them know I was good to go and started up the long 4 miles in.

The back 15 kicked my ass. It kicked the ass of every rider out there. I had to quickly devise a plan in order to abide by the number one rule my friend Erin told me:

I had to granny gear it most of the way using a 25 up/ 50 down method. Meaning I stood for 25 revolutions and then sat for 50 revolutions. It was slow going to get those 4 miles done but not once did I walk my bike no matter how bad my legs wanted me too. I saw too many people walking those fancy bikes up that mountain and I wasn’t about to be one of them. I knocked down those miles one by one in my head…

48 of my toughest competitors left in the dust…

49

50

51

52!

52 miles in and it was time to head back into the final portion of this Ironman event. I’d made it to the top! I knew at that exact moment I was going to finish this damn thing. I looked down at my watch and I was an hour ahead of schedule. I’d be down in transition in less than 20 minutes. I’d have 4 hours to complete the half marathon. I turned around and Peppermint and I started flying towards the village…

I’m not lying when I say fly. Because I was at the back of the pack I didn’t have to worry about other cyclists being too close to me so there was nothing but open road between me and the transition area. I know what 40 mph feels like. Erin warned me that you can get some serious speed coming off the mountain…I was like a kid on their first roller coaster. Screaming in exhilaration I prayed I wouldn’t crash but wanting as much speed as my courage could muster. I screamed at bikes going up the hill “not too much farther!!!!” “Keep going!!!!” “The fun is about to begin!!!!” I let my entire emotional self take in the last 10 minutes of the ride (cause while it took me an hour to get up, it only took 10 minutes to get down) and looked toward the last portion of the event. I wanted to be out on the road running. I wanted to get that damn race shirt on, the medal over my head. I wanted to be an Ironman more than anything I could remember wanting and it was only 13 miles out of my reach.

Because I had so much time left I pulled into the transition area and once again just took my ever loving sweet time. I was going to finish. I was going to finish faster than I anticipated. Now it was about feeling good. I high fived the announcer. Danced a little to the music that was playing and when I laid my eyes on Mimi from across the way I jumped up and down like a kid on Christmas…

(3:54:02)

Run 13.1 miles

I had devised a plan long before I hit the course. I was going to walk through every km sign and every water stop. There were 13 water stops and 21 km signs…one minute at each. If I didn’t need to walk at a km sign then I could keep going but under no circumstances was I to run through a water stop. Water in my lucky hat, water on my head, water in my mouth, a little flat coke and if needed a banana…if I stuck to that plan then I could keep going. Running was my strong event and even though I was tired and got passed a lot on the bike course this was where I’d catch up to many of those people. Slowly but very surely mile after mile I ran by people and knocked the last 13 competitors off my list. It was an out and back route. Mostly flat (thank goodness) but during the last few miles I had to add a “walk up hills” if needed addendum to my plan.

This is where you see the most people cheering you on. I don’t speak a lick of French but every word of encouragement boosted my moral. Out of 2500 participants, coming in this late in the afternoon means we are few and far in between but it didn’t stop people from standing on the side of the road to watch you run by with a loud and hearty “Allez Allez”

“Come on!!!”

I hit km number 18 (mile 11) and the emotions began to build way up. I’m exhausted. Two more miles seems like forever. I kept telling myself that even if I walked the rest of the way I’d be done in less than 30 minutes. I plug away at the miles.

Even at a mile away from the finish I can hear the announcer. I feel my heart beat faster (as if that’s possible). I look down at my watch and it says I’ve been moving for 7 hours and 20 minutes. I think about Mimi waiting for me with my race shirt. I think about how hard it was for me to start this journey (both 3 years ago and 3 months ago) and in less than 15 minutes I was going to complete my first Half Ironman. I thought about all the people that feel they can’t. I thought about all the people that will never muster up the courage to stand up and take control. I thought about the life I left behind in order to find the life I have in front of me. I thought about how good a beer and some poutine was going to taste after a long day of kicking the ass of 70.3 of my toughest competitors…

And then I was done.

(My emotions in this exact moment could not have been captured more perfectly.)

Official time 7:35:09

I AM.

IRONMAN.

This post is long winded. I cried. I stopped and took a few breaks. I looked over my pictures a gazillion times picking out which ones to use. But if you could give me a few minutes of your time please stay…

Behind every Ironman is someone that loves and supports them beyond measure.

(My Dearest Mimi: Thank you.)