Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Ride Report: AIDS/LifeCycle 2018

I'm still reeling over what a fantastic week it's been with AIDS/LifeCycle and the Love Bubble. This year's experience was MUCH different from last year's, and I feel like I'm back as a completely different person.

This year, as many of you know, was a milestone year for me. I crossed a landmark in terms of age, and it with it I wanted to make sure I checked off personal achievements as well. At 28, I completed my first IRONMAN and qualified as an All-World Athlete, placing in the top 10% of my age group. At 29, I did my first ALC ride from San Francisco to LA, and I thought I had done everything. So at 30, I figured, "Why the hell not?" and decided that I would do both an IRONMAN AND the ALC ride, 2 weeks apart.

I know, I'm crazy.

I figured that logically I would be in the best shape of my life if I decided I wanted to bike the 545 miles, but what I didn't anticipate was the lack of training I'd be doing in 2018. Welp. All said and done - I still did it!

Let's recap the week of festivities:

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FRIDAY. DAY (-1).

Unlike my ride the year prior, this year's ride was full of last minute additions. Because I already knew what to expect from the ride, I didn't feel the pressure to pack 6 weeks in advance - nor did I feel the pressure to pack even one week in advance. You've got it, folks - I was packing the night before. It was insane. No one should every wait that long to pack a week of their lives into a small bag: especially when it involves camping, lack of electricity, and 90% sun exposure.


Friday was uneventful with the exception of the ALC Sendoff Party at the Lookout and dinner with Robert and Matt. I got to see a lot of familiar faces and met quite a few unfamiliar ones.

Can't take me anywhere.

I knew seeing Mark Witko meant it was going to be a good week. :) 


There were, of course, a few unsightly things that I couldn't unsee that night, but let's just leave it at "I learned a lot and gay culture fascinates me immensely."

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SATURDAY. DAY (0).

I woke up bright and early for our Orientation Saturday morning. Robert and I grabbed breakfast at the hotel before we caught a Lyft over to Cow Palace, where we would be going over the details of the week's events.

Jacob, my emergency contact
Charlie, almost a tri queen





Finally got to meet up with some of the other members of our team!
We were briefed and then shepherded into another giant room to get wristbanded, tagged, and given the ability to check on our bikes. I had shipped Shadow the week prior (another good year with ACE Shipping!) and finally was able to see that she was okay. I forgot to tape my bottles to her and they made it all the way up north, intact and still connected! I took it as a foreshadowing sign of a good ride.


I took an uber to the Ferry Building in SF and met my little brother and his girlfriend Irene for a day of fun before the trip! We had lunch at Roli Roti, took the Ferry to Angel Island, and rode bikes (ironic, I know) around the island.










I love adventures. We had such a blast. The island was only 6 miles round-trip, which was nice. I'd probably go back again just to run or walk the island. Some people kayaked in from Sausalito and were hiking! Glad I got to see a part of San Francisco I hadn't seen before, though.

We met up with Bryan and Alex for dinner at E Tutto Qua, where we gorged on Italian food that definitely proved that our eyes were bigger than our stomachs.






The boys dropped me off, I re-packed, and set my alarm for 3:30 am. It was almost time.

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SUNDAY. DAY (1). San Francisco to Santa Cruz

I was so excited for the ride that I didn't even need an alarm to wake up. I met up with some of the team in the lobby, our Lyft (an Audi A6!) took us to Cow Palace, and we joined hands with over 2,200 cyclists and 800 roadies, volunteers, and employees in the Opening Ceremonies. Every year, we ride with a red bicycle down the coast. It represents the people who have lived with HIV and were unable to get the treatment they needed. The bike is a reminder that one day, in a world free of AIDS, we won't need the riderless bicycle anymore.



As we headed down to where our bikes were racked, I was stopped by a very friendly person named Emery, who told me he had read my blog and thanked me for recapping my ride last year! What fun. I was so excited to have been recognized in a crowd and acknowledged for doing something that I loved doing in my free time.

By 7am, we were off!




The lumberjacks in Pacifica!


Daly City to Pacifica, San Gregorio State Beach for Lunch, and taking Highway 1 most of the way into Santa Cruz. Total elevation: 4,718 (more than Mt. Baldy!)

Day 1, done.




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MONDAY. DAY (2). Santa Cruz to King City

Day 2 has historically been the longest day at 109 miles. It's also known as Orange Safety Day given the mileage and the amount of cars on the road.

As we left Santa Cruz in the morning, we were met with this BEAUTIFUL fog wall. Truth be told, I had never seen anything like it! If I had more time, I probably would have stayed there to watch more of the magic unfold, but since I've notoriously been a stickler for time, I grabbed a quick picture and then continued on my way.






The ride passed rather quickly, and the water stop after Rest Stop 3 led me to one of my favorite parts of the ride: THE OTTER POP STOP!


The Otter Pop Stop is eponymous, but also holds a lot of meaning in the LGBT community. So many things I had to learn as a straight woman going into this, but if it means free ice pops, I'm in!

Despite the long ride, however, we managed to make it in to camp relatively early. Mark and I met up for face masks (you will learn of my love for face masks at a later time), and the boys and I cozied up in the lounge to chat while the sun set.




Day 2, done.

Daily Elevation, 3,251.
Total elevtion, 7,969.
Equivalent to -  Mount Olympus in Washington!




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TUESDAY. DAY (3). King City to Paso Robles

Day 3 is Quadbuster Day! People used to say that Quadbuster day was the hardest day. It involves a massive hill that forces grown men to walk sometimes. If you're not in it mentally, you're definitely not in it physically.





I guess I had forgotten how much I had trained for the IRONMAN, because Quadbuster was relatively easy for me! I took my time and wasn't even out of breath when I got to the top.

Side note - there is a team who rides ALC every year named The Cretins, and in short, THEY. ARE. BADASS. They ride all 545 miles on their fixies! SINGLE SPEED SINGLE GEAR. SUCH BADASS.

One of the Cretins was going up Quadbuster as I was going up, and she made it 3/4 of the way before pooping out. I still have so much respect for her because 1. she attempted it. 2. she made it 75% of the way up 3. on a fixie. I can't even.



Day 3 was also one of the shortest days - probably because the day before was so brutal. It was one of the most eventful too. We made a stop in the city of Bradley: POPULATION 1,048. Yep. you read that correctly. Their school of K-8 is reportedly 50 students. What is that, like 6 kids per grade?!

Regardless, the kids are SO SWEET and every year they put on a barbeque fundraiser for all of the cyclists that ride through. We make a donation and can dictate where the money goes: to performing arts, to the sciences, etc. It's great. The kids get to experience so much because of us! This year, we fundraised over $65,000 for the kids at Bradley.





Before I left the school, I happened to see a BEAUTIFUL bird perched on a man's shoulder. As I do with just about every animal, I stooped down and asked if I could pet it! The man told me to hold out my finger, and Andy hopped onto it, no questions asked! I learned that Andy was a 27-year-old bird (he didn't look a day over 3!), and he was just so excited to be there. Quiet and tame... Birds may now be in the running for future pet options.

I caught up to Matt at Camp Roberts, located on the historic El Camino Real (!!!!) and known as the largest California National Guard training installation in the state. They let us climb onto the tanks and peer inside them.


From there, we headed over to Mission San Miguel, built in 1797 and one of only 2 Missions I've ever been to. Last time I wasn't able to go inside, but this time I stayed a little longer to enjoy the scenic wonders of the Catholic Church.


Before I left, I watched one of the shows put on by my favorite rest stop team in the tune of Decades of Divas. 




Got back to camp relatively early, so I hung out at the lounge, finished the book I had started, and enjoyed some ice cream. 2 kinds, actually. It was truly starting to feel like summer.





When I FaceTimed with my sister and Phil that night, however, I started to feel like something was off. My lower lip was starting to swell! Was it the sun? Was it something I ate? Hm.

Regardless, Day 3 was done.



Daily elevation: 2,583
Total Elevatoin: 10,552
Equivalent to: just a bit over Mt. Baldy!

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WEDNESDAY. DAY (4). Paso Robles to Santa Maria

Day 4. Halfway to LA day! If you followed along on my journey via social media, you probably know by now that this was both an amazing and a horrible day, all wrapped up into one.

But back to the story.

I woke up with a fatty lower lip. I definitely thought something was wrong, so I went to the medical tent to see someone who could help me. They told me that this was common and that the only solution they had found to work was to soothe the swelling on my lips (it was likely a sunburn) with something they fondly called "lip shit". yes. Lip shit. A mixture of zinc oxide and preparation H (you didn't misread that) that many people had grown to love on the ride. Prolonged exposure to sun was making them crazy too.

I declined the lip shit - Carmex was not going to fail me now and I licked my lips way too much to be ok with lip shit on me - and left for my ride, but visiting the med tent meant that I was going to get a very late start to a very long day of riding.

I handed my luggage off to my grannies, and off we went!




I think because I had done the ride before, the nervousness was no longer there. I knew that if I took my time, I'd have a great experience, and I did! Day 4 was the Evil Twins Day. What that meant was that we would ride up a massive hill, go up its evil step sister (it came out of nowhere) and then go up another massive hill just like the first one.

At the end of the hill? HALFWAY TO LA.

I do think that my training paid off, because the twins were mere hills to me in this sense as well. I wasn't out of breath, I wasn't irritated that people were passing me, and I was so excited to be dominating something that scared me so much in years past!



Travis, Matt, and I took pictures at the top and agreed to meet at various rest stops on the way home. Again, Rest Stop 4 won "favorite rest stop of the day" with my favorite song from The Greatest Showman! (also because I don't know any other songs from the movie and truthfully have still yet to see it...)






Matt and I loaded up on snacks and got ready to ride the last 7 miles back to camp. We were about 3 miles away, going about 20+ miles per hour when I hit a bump in the road and flew off my bike into oncoming traffic. I was stunned. To be honest, I don't know what was going on in my head at that time. All I remember is tilting over to the left and hitting the asphalt. Hard.

Matt, who instantaneously became my knight in shining armor, directed traffic on both sides while a nice man tried to help me up (Doug? I think his name was Doug). My whole left side was in pain. I tried to stand but couldn't put any weight on my left side because of how much it hurt. When I got up, we moved to the side of the road.

Matt picked up my stuff, which had scattered across the street, and as the ambulance arrived (one of the girls had called 911), I turned around and asked him to pause my Garmin. True story: It's a movement. I laughed because I was THAT person.

The EMTs checked to make sure that I had not broken my collarbone, took my vitals, and poked and prodded until they were convinced that nothing was wrong with me. They urged me to go to the hospital to check and make sure my elbow was not broken, but I waived my right to a hospital ride (do you know how much those things cost?!) and they bound my arm in a sling before asking me to sign release forms so they could leave.


Matt waited with me while the SAG vehicle was summoned, and the 8 or so people who had stopped to help me slowly departed (Thank you to each and every one of you who stopped for me!). Matt told me that a car had just passed him as he saw me fall and he was convinced that my life flashed before his eyes (his words were more like "a car had just passed me as you crashed" but if I were him, I'd flash my life before his eyes too. Even though he had, at that point, only known me for less than a week. Let's just say it was a very short flash and call it even).

It was scary to find out that had it been timed differently, I could have ended up in a very different situation. 3 seconds later, 5 seconds later: would I have hit my head? Could I have been hit by a car? Would I still be here right now? I kept running the scenario through my mind. Could I have prevented this incident? What could I have done differently?

Nothing. If I could replay this day all over again, the same course of events would have happened. Nothing could have been changed. No one can really anticipate a wheel hitting a bump, aligning so serendipitously to move the wheel in a certain way, cause imbalance, and force someone to fly off their handles. Literally.

And yet, here I am.

The SAG vehicle came and drove me back to camp. They dropped me off at Medical, where an array of doctors took a look at me and told me the same thing: go to the hospital, get checked out, make sure there are no broken bones.

The hard-headed part of me told them that I was ok, but they pulled the final card out when they told me that I wasn't allowed to ride until I could produce x-rays of my bones, whole and unharmed. hrmph.

Okay, you win. I'll go to the hospital. Everything was starting to hurt anyway. The adrenaline was starting to wear off.

The doctor promised me that I'd have someone with me at the hospital. I didn't want to go it alone. Two women came to take me, and we left for the Marian Regional Medical Center. We pulled up to emergency, they dropped me off, and as I was rolling away in the wheelchair a nurse had gotten for me, one of the girls handed me a yellow slip and told me to call someone at Command when I was ready to leave.



That's it? No one was going to stay with me? If I had known, I would have asked someone. Hospitals are a scary place. To be hurt and alone is crippling because of the sheer uncertainty of it all. Luckily, the nurses and the doctors took great care of me. I had my vitals taken again and was given my own room to wait in. I spoke with a doctor for an extended amount of time about what happened and they did three x-rays from 3 different angles of my elbow to make sure they didn't miss anything.



And then we waited.

It was probably a little over an hour before I heard back to find that nothing was wrong. Huge sigh of relief. They cleaned the rocks out from my wound and then dressed it before they discharged me, and I called Command to let them know I was ready to be picked up.

"Someone should be picking you up tonight, hopefully."

What?!

I waited an hour and a half before Jen from med transport found me and brought me back to camp, but by then it had already been lights out for a few hours and everyone was asleep. We walked over to the medical tent (now my most frequented location on the ride!) and the doctors gave me another once over before letting me know it was okay for me to go to bed. I was not allowed to ride day 5, but I could check in before day 6 to see if it was okay. They are thorough, and for that I am grateful.

Thankfully, Travis and Matt had set up my tent for me and grabbed my stuff. I knew I had the best guys on the team! Jen walked with me to my tent and wished me well. The real battle that night was managing my bag with one hand. I changed, took a baby wipe shower (yes, it's a real thing. It involves baby wipes and wiping yourself down so you don't sleep in your own cold sweat), and huddled around my bag with a mylar blanket and slept. I'd deal with my problems on Day 5.

Day 4, mostly done.



Daily Elevation: 4,746
Total Elevation: 15,298
Higher than Mt Whitney, almost as high as Mont Blanc!

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THURSDAY. DAY (5). Santa Maria to Lompoc

This was one of my favorite days last year. I was so sad that I wouldn't be able to enjoy it like I did in 2017, but I was very enlightened in the sense that I was able to see the ride from another perspective.

Good ol' past Winnie, who set a recurring 4:30am alarm for the week... woke present Winnie up with her darn pre-crastination skills.

I got 2 hours of sleep on Thursday. Luckily, I didn't have very much stuff to put away, and as I was attempting to tie my shoe with one hand, the medic team from the night before showed up at my tent! I know that we are all thankful for different things, but I am always thankful for the people in my life, no matter the circumstances. Jen and David were only there to check in, and I cried a little on the inside.

David masterfully pulled my tent down for me and everyone helped me roll my luggage so it could be transported over to the next stop: Lompoc.


I felt broken. I went over to the Medical tent to check in, as instructed, with the doctors there. I was told once again that I needed to take the day off to give my body time to recoup, and as they changed my dressings they told me that if I felt like it, I could ride Day 6.

That's all I needed to hear.

Red Dress Day is always the shortest day that we ride, so I was happy not to have missed too much mileage: only 41 miles.


I waited in line to get onto the bus, and when we rolled into the new location for the day, we were still there 3 hours before it was set to open. Other cyclists had already arrived - they beat the bus into getting into camp!

A special guardian angel called me while I was sitting on a lounge chair waiting for Travis and Matt to come in. "There's a hotel a mile away with your name on it." And though I tried with my might to say no, I succumbed, under very special circumstances, to my first PRINCESSING part of the ride! (That's when you stay in a hotel instead of with the camp).

It was something I really, really needed. I needed to shower (it had been well over 24 hours and I still had not gotten the sweat from the last ride off me, even though personally I believed in the power of baby wipes) and I needed to clean the wound thoroughly and let it air out so it could heal.

Thank you, T. You truly are a godsend and I am so lucky to be able to call you my friend.

The boys and I spent the afternoon eating our hearts out at Solvang Brewing Company. It was delicious. The ice cream didn't hurt either.




I spent the rest of the evening in my hotel room, assessing the damages of the night before.





I still stand by my testament that I am lucky to be alive. I had holes on the right side of my jersey, holes on the left side of my shorts... I tore through my sleeves, and I CRUSHED the can of sunblock. My brand new Ironman Jersey ðŸ˜­. I'm so sad.  (to be clear, though - I'm not as sad anymore as I've since ordered a new replacement jersey. Now I'm only sad about how much it cost.)

Day 5, done (in spirit).

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FRIDAY. DAY (6). Lompoc to Ventura

Day 6!! I was so antsy about not being able to ride that I was determined to ride despite being in pain. My left side was still very sensitive, and bruises were starting to form, but I needed to do this. I didn't want to spend another day waiting at camp while everyone was having fun. It was like FOMO but being present and missing out. It was just weird. I didn't like it.




We got to ride on the 101 Freeway! Had a few rest stops and blew past lunch..



Before we got to Santa Barbara, home of McConnell's Ice Cream and the PARADISE PIT!

Fresh fruit, nice people, and of course - ICE CREAM!






We rolled out to Rest Stop 4, where Bo Peep was hanging with her sheep. Dance parties ensued.


Camp was only a few miles out, so I took it easy, but was still one of the first few back in. I had an early dinner with Adam and we walked over to the beach to skip rocks (successfully!) and watch the waves crash. It was nice.



We concluded the evening with the Candlelight Vigil.



Two years ago, I was introduced to ALC by way of this candlelight vigil. My hair caught on fire (a story for another day), and I fell in love with this community that mourned for brothers and sisters who could not be with them because of the cards life dealt them. I didn't understand it then, I didn't understand it last year, but I definitely understood it this year.

Matt and I had an open conversation about what the stigma of HIV entailed, and for the first time since I signed up for the ALC ride, I wanted to do more. Mark blew me away on Day 3 of the ride when he told me that he would sign up every year until there was a cure. No hesitancy, just a will to want to change the status quo. I am so lucky to be surrounded by such amazing characters in life, who motivate me to want to be more than I am.

On day 6, I signed up again for ALC.


Day 6, Done.


Daily Elevation: 3,173
Total elevation: 18,471 (not counting day 5 elevation, just what I did)
Equivalent to: Pico De Orizaba (Highest Peak in Mexico) and higher than Base Camp at Everest!

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SATURDAY. DAY (7). Ventura to Los Angeles!

Day 7! I am always excited to return home. I just wanted to sleep in my own bed and shower in something other than a truck. We were told that the course would open at 6am vs the normal 6:30 time frame, so Travis, Matt, and I anticipated leaving as soon as the gates opened.





By 7:30, we were already in Malibu at the Missile Park.
Patrick texted me and jokingly asked if we were going to come in at 9:30am.


We were making great time!
By 11:30. we had made it to lunch, but Travis took a spill getting into Will Rogers State Beach, and he and Matt decided to leave earlier to get to the finish line faster.

I took my time, and headed out shortly after. I originally thought I would be at Grand Park earlier than anticipated, but I should have stuck to what I told everyone in the first place. DTLA traffic doesn't just affect public transportation and automobiles - it affects cyclists just as much! I made the mistake of not reapplying sunblock. It was getting pretty hot waiting for traffic lights to turn green.

But I made it!





This is what true happiness looks like. A girl and her Hot Cheetos.









Daddy and me <3

 I'm so happy to be back. I'm healing (I'd show you all the wound but I don't think you'd like me very much after.) Can't wait for next year. Love love love the Love Bubble and so glad I had such a great team to ride with this year. I wouldn't change it for the world.

Day 7, Done.





Daily elevation - 2,060
Total Elevation - 20,531
Equivalent to - Denali, the highest peak in North America!


I may not have done it all, but I did more than most. My heart rate jumped up for the week (my resting is 38) but every day, I was active. I'm proud of what I did, for the cause I did it for, and I can't wait to do it again.

Until next time.



P.S. - The love for face masks - I was not kidding.


I did one every day on the ride!




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A Special THANK YOU to all of my Donors (in order of Donation), who made this ride possible for me:

Nick C, Anthony R, Isabelle L, Hymie A, Jessica and the Mad Engine Team, Hymie and Connie and C-Life, Sagar, Howard and the HYP team, Jim H, Jason A, Chris H, Lisa L, Kathryn H, Joseph H and HighPoint, Andrew F, Michael E, Sung L, Cuong Q, Chan T, Eunice Y, Donna B, Thalia D, Joyce J, Frank B, Naomi, Richie, Layna, and the Berkshire Family, Adam S, Allison C, Sarvish and Surreal, and Maureen D!


Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Race Report: winja's IRONMAN SANTA ROSA (May 12, 2018)

I DID IT. I'm an IRONWOMAN. AGAIN!

It was a whirlwind of emotions this past weekend, but I'm fortunate enough to say that I finished the race and have officially "renewed my membership" to the IRONMAN club. 

A year and a half ago, when I finished IMAZ, I told myself (and others) that I was "one and done". It was a lifetime achievement - so much so that I would have been content never working out again. But then I got restless and needed to fill my time with something, so I signed up for AIDS/LifeCycle, biked down the coast of California, and in the blink of an eye, 2017 was over. 

2018 was a milestone year for me: new job, new living situation, and new priorities. It meant putting on my "big girl pants" and making decisions. So many decisions. Many people welcome change: I will be the first to admit that it's hard. My hours in the office were extended, I worked out much less, and my self-esteem suffered in the cause-and-effect cycle of not having enough time to do all the things I wanted to do. But c'est la vie. When the dust settles, I know that I will thoroughly enjoy all that life has in store for me. 

(WARNING: This is a huge wall of text. I come back and read it often though, so bear with me.)

For those who don't know, an IRONMAN is 2.4 miles of swimming, 112 miles of cycling, and 26.2 miles of running. To qualify as an IRONMAN, one must complete all three legs in 17 hours, or it will not count. That's similar to swimming from SF to Alcatraz, Biking from Long Beach to San Diego, and then running from Dodger Stadium to the Santa Monica Pier. All in one day. 

PRE-RACE:

I had been avoiding packing for this race for the longest time. In fact, I'd successfully avoided reading the athlete guide (with all the race details, maps, and directions) up until the week prior to the race and was under the impression that the race was on a Sunday. Nope - it was on a Saturday. 

Moving from one apartment to another upended my life: I was living out of boxes, and while I'm particular about many things, unpacking is low on my totem pole when there are other things that need to be addressed. Like my last IM, I had begun to develop a rash on my side due to stress. I knew what it was so I didn't worry too much about it. I hastily packed everything I could on Wednesday night, snoozed for a few hours, and got up at 4am on Thursday to leave for Santa Rosa. 

We started our journey at 5am. The goal was to get to Santa Rosa in time for the athlete briefing at 2:


Santa Rosa is far.

I signed my life away, learned a little more about the race logistics, and prepped myself for all of the hills we were going to see on the bike course. 








Fear now surpassed by excitement, Joyce and I headed out to drive the bike course. At our athlete orientation, we were told that we'd be climbing nearly 4,000 feet in elevation. That's equivalent to climbing Mt. Baldy. On your bike. It was exhausting just thinking about it. The worst part? Just a week prior Strava sent me an email to remind me just how little I trained. "7 days," it said. I'm sure 5 of those days were cycling. How embarrassing. 

To take my mind off things, my sister and I met up with our little brother, Kelvin, in Petaluma for dinner. Brazilian BBQ is probably not the best for carb-loading, but THOSE CHEESE ROLLS. So good. 

We got back to the hotel later that evening and before I went to sleep, I had this great idea to sort out all of my stuff chronologically. I got a little too excited with the sorting. Every little thing counted, and I ended up purging a lot of items before they went into the bags. 





To be clear: I would do this again every time. I loved the idea of laying everything out and walking through what I would be doing. Did I really need 2 sets of goggles for the swim? Probably not. But it would be smart to have a bottle of water for every bag, right? Sure. 

The best thing I did for myself? Write directions. Every bag had directions. "Drink this." "Eat this." "Put this in your pocket." - when the volunteers came around to help me during my transitions, they read the directions on each baggie and told me to drink, eat, and shove stuff into my pockets. I never felt like I was forgetting anything, nor did I ever feel like I was wasting any time. 

On Friday, we were required to drop off our bikes, our bike bags, and our run bags. We drove over to the town center, dropped off the run bag, and drove the 30 miles to Lake Sonoma, where the swim was to be held. I pulled my bike out of the car, put some air into the tires (just in case I wouldn't get the chance the next morning) and grabbed my bike bag for T1. 




As I walked into T1 to put my bike bag down, I was advised to pull anything remotely edible from my bag. Apparently last year, wildlife had entered T1 in the middle of the night to snack on Clif bars and other treats. Alice mentioned to me that during T1 last year, one of the first swimmers came in only to find that his bag had been taken and dragged down the hill by a fox! The athlete was stuck looking for his bag and was ultimately one of the last athletes to leave transition because of his predicament. Poor guy. 

A volunteer followed me to my bag and strongly encouraged me to take "anything that would be eaten" out. He made me take my inhaler, my chapstick, and my sunblock out so that I'd "still have my bag" in the morning. Really? My inhaler? Fine. 

Joyce and I spent the rest of the morning at Lake Sonoma. We watched some of the athletes test the waters, sat on the dock, and dipped our feet in. The temperature was perfect. 





Every little thing triggered me. Who signs up for an Ironman and then doesn't train for it? Me. Who goes into something not knowing the outcome? Well, probably plenty of people. 

The rest of the day included food - lots of food - before heading back to the hotel for last minute check-ups, putting my numbers on!!!, and bed. 






RACE DAY. 

It's 2:30am and I. AM. JAZZED. soooooo excited! 

I shove a sandwich into my mouth - a King's hawaiian roll stuffed with spam - made by Alice the night before. My sister drops me off at the town center, I drop off my special needs bags, and I stand in line for the shuttle. The plan was to have Joyce drop me off so that there would be no hiccups, and then she would meet me at Lake Sonoma in the event that she had trouble finding parking, etc. 

We got to T1, and I immediately headed over to my bike to check on it. Are my tires still there?! Calm down, Winnie. They are. Are they still inflated?! I said CALM DOWN. They are. 

I set up all of my nutrition: Jelly Belly Sport Beans in my bento box for a quick, sweet jolt on the ride, Endurolytes for hourly checkups, and a disposable bottle on my frame so that I could trade it out at each aid station. 




I met back up with Joyce.Time for the waiting game. 






As the boat ramp continues to fill up, I start to feel this numb sensation. I'm excited, I'm scared, but more than anything I think I'm just indifferent. In the event that I didn't finish, Patrick had made a great point: I was already an Ironman. I had nothing to prove. I had no one to prove it to. 

If I finished, great. If I didn't? Well, I'd be right back where I started. 

I said my goodbyes to Joyce and watched as the horn sounded and the elite athletes got into the water. Athletes slowly filed in, and at 6:57am, it was my turn. The volunteers in front of me lowered their arms, signaling that I could get into the water, and I waded in.

The swim was beautiful. I thoroughly enjoyed it. With the exception of a few people trying to swim over me, I took the swim slow and focused on my breathing and keeping my arms steady. I counted - every two strokes was one number, and I made my way up to 1,100 before coming out of the water, walking up the boat dock, scanning my timing chip over the mat, and then... doing it again. 1.2 miles, done. 1.2 left to go. 

The second loop was a little rockier than the first. Some people were on their first lap still, which meant having to swim around them or having to redirect myself so I could avoid them. By the time I counted to 1,100 again, it was time to get out of the water. I was consistent in my swimming, and only 4 minutes slower than my first Ironman, so I'll take that win. 



IM says my total swim time was 1:29:29, averaging 2:19/100m.
Strava says my total swim time was 1:29:25, averaging 1:59/100y.

I'll take it. 






Getting out of the water also meant having to climb the massive boat ramp to get up to T1. Realistically, running up it meant that I would be tired for the bike portion, so I walked up. Peter met me as a volunteer wetsuit stripper, and held my hand as I stepped out of my suit.

I ran the rest of the way to grab my Bike bag, and made my way into the women's changing tent, where Nanette (a fellow Women for Tri ambassador that I met at Vineman 70.3 2 years ago!) helped me pull items from my bag. She fed me, made sure I had sunblock on my arms and back, and helped me put all of my swim stuff away!

I mounted my bike, and was a few miles in before I realized I had not put any sunblock on my face. MY PERFECT PLAN, FOILED BY THE SUN! Luckily, past Winnie thought ahead and put a sunblock stick into the bento box. Thank goodness, because temps were predicted to be in the mid-80s during the day.



I've probably told everyone willing to listen at this point, but hear me out! The bike portion of this race was hard. Probably not the hardest thing I've ever done, but certainly challenging, to say the least. The first part of the race held the biggest climbs: a 200 elevation climb, a steep descent, followed by a 400 elevation climb. Normally that's fine, but there must have been 100 smaller hills along the course. The descent at mile 3 is deceiving - you think you're going to rock the bike ride, and smaller hills bring you back down to size.


I wish Strava would tell you where the winds were during your ride. The race briefing person told us that the winds would come from the north, so if we timed our ride correctly, we'd have the winds on our backs pushing us forward the whole time. I was looking for this much-needed aid, and got it for the first 60 miles...



After special needs, however, it took a turn for the worse. The wind decided it wanted to come up from the south instead, which meant we were met with headwinds. For 50+ miles. By round 2 of Chalk Hill at mile 88, I was shedding invisible tears while going up a steep hill at 4mph with headwinds. It broke me.

Somehow, I trudged on through to mile 112. I counted up to 1,000 and then backwards from 1,000. When I lost my place with the numbers, I'd choose a random number and continue counting down. Anything to pass the time. My toes went numb. My legs started to cramp. The wall was creeping up.

When I did IMAZ, my friend John mentioned offhandedly that if I was able to get off the bike by 4pm, I'd be able to walk the marathon portion of race. I looked down at my watch and saw that I was ahead of my own schedule. If I picked up the pace, not only would I make it back before 4 -- I could legitimately walk the run portion of the race and still make it before the 17 hour cutoff time!

Trudge, trudge, trudge.



I got to T2 and a volunteer held me as I said #ShutUpLegs and peeled myself off my bike. Only 26.2 miles separated me from the finish line.

My bike portion was amazing.

IM says my total bike time was 7:11:01, averaging 15.59mph.
Strava says my total bike time was 7:08:05, averaging 15.6mph.

Considering the climb, the headwinds, the hill at mile 88 - I will take this. Hell, I would take this on a bike ride ANY DAY! At one point, I was coasting at 19.91mph. YES. YES. YES.

The best part? I was less than 8 minutes slower than I was at IMAZ: a predominantly flat course with no real incline that I definitely overtrained for. Maybe under-training comes in handy sometimes?


T2: more sunblock, swap shoes, add hat. RUN TIME.

I'm out! All smiles, I'm so excited to finish. AND! It's 3:57 pm. I'M ON THE ROAD BEFORE 4PM! I CAN WALK THE WHOLE MARATHON AND STILL FINISH! As long as I maintain an 18 minute mile, that is.



I start running, and it's slow but steady. Half a mile in, however, it hits me - my stress fracture, exacerbated by the constant revolution of my legs on the bike and the pressure of the weight of my body, decides it's time to quit. I "pull over", try to stretch my lower calf, and am immediately met with resistance. I can't bend my knees for the life of me.

I'm distraught. How was I going to attempt 25 more miles in this pain?

So I start walking.

"John told me I'd finish if I maintain 18min/mile if I get out by 4. John told me I'd finish if I maintain 18min/mile if I get out by 4. John told me I'd finish if I maintain 18min/mile if I get out by 4. "

-- "Winnie!"

I turn around.

"John?"

Nope, not kidding - John was right behind me. Did I mention he was doing this race too? It was his 13th Ironman (yes, he qualified for Kona!). He fell into step with me, and that's how it went for the next 25 miles. One foot in front of the other, shooting the shit, right up until the finish line. It couldn't have gone any better - I had company for 25 miles, I walked through the pain, and I finished in a timely manner! John was my saving grace, both at IMAZ and at IMSR. If you're reading this, THANK YOU, JOHN.

The finish line called to me: bright lights. Mike Reilly. My sister, brother, Irene, Ruth, and Peter. I let John cross the line first and trailed after so he could have his moment on the carpet.



squee! I finished!



Nanette was volunteering at the finish and snapped this shot of me right after:



This, my friends, is sheer happiness.

H A P P I N E S S 




I am now a two-time IRONMAN triathlete!



IM says my total run time was 6:33:32, averaging 15:01min/mi.
Strava says my total run time was 6:33:36, averaging 15:06min/mi.

For someone in pain, I think I did pretty well! I can't complain about any of this.

Total times, as provided by IRONMAN:



Y'all ready for the aftermath?



... and a whole pizza and 2 full-sized Snickers bars. :D

THANK YOU. 

My training buddies - Alice, Jason, Patrick, Evan, Jay, Martin, Bryan, and Charlie!
My Marvel and HT/HU teams, and my friends, for enduring my bullshit.

Special shout-outs to the following (in no particular order):

Newly-inducted IRONMAN finisher, Alice! Thank you for being my training buddy. For forcing me to swim when I tried to avoid the pool, for encouraging me to do a lap around the Rose Bowl even at the wee hours of the night, and for letting me in on your bike rides so I wouldn't have to train alone. As Mike Reilly says, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN! I am so proud of you and your endeavors.

Team DISNEY. My heart will always belong to Disney, no matter where I am. Disney runs in my blood and I'm so fortunate to be able to surround myself with such bright lights - to train with, to commiserate with, and to enjoy life with. You are my home, Team DISNEY.
My sister Joyce, who always inconveniences herself to ensure that I'm having the best time. She's selfless, she's thoughtful, and she never hesitates to come along for the ride! Thank you for everything you do for me. Expert spectator doesn't even begin to cover it. I am lucky to have you as a sister and a best friend. 

My little brother, Kelvin, for showing up to one of my races! In my nearly four years of racing, this is the first race Kelvin has gone to. If I had tears to shed in this moment, I would have. Special shout-out to Irene, who came out too!
And finally, no picture, but this will do: Patrick, my first training partner and my buddy through thick and thin -- thanks for reminding me that I had nothing to prove to anyone. My outcome was mine alone, and I needed that reminder from someone like you. Thanks, buddy.


CONCLUSION. 

My team surprised me when I got into the office on Monday! I only told a handful of people about this race, and forced them to promise me that if I didn't finish, we were never to speak of it again.


THANK YOU to the wonderful team at HT for keeping tabs on me! You believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself.

I had dinner with Alice last night to talk about the race and debrief. We went over how everything went, and ended up on the topic of training. I told her that I had only worked out 19 hours in April. In comparison, when I was training for IMAZ, I was averaging 19 hours every week or so.

Alice pulled up her hours, and I was blown away: (her number is the bottom number)


I... probably should have worked out more. But Alice - so. many. hours.



I think I'm done with fulls forever. It's a lifetime achievement to do an Ironman even once, so 2 times is almost unheard of. Anyone who does more than that is definitely crazy. But I'm sure I'll continue to iron in some way or another. It's in my blood. :)

What are we Ironing, anyway?