What a race looks like from the inside

If you ask me what my race looks like while I’m out there swimming, biking and running it’s best summed up with this picture.

 

Emmie's latest race day creation for me

I’ve been a spectator at many racing events; marathons, half marathons, Ironman and from the spectating view I experience many emotions as I visualize myself in the competitors’ shoes.  The look of determination, pain and exhaustion, I can relate to those looks because I’ve been there.  Thinking back I feel that it looks worse than it is.  As I’ve stood there and cheered for these great athletes my eyes deceive me, I interpret what I see on their faces and in their body language and think that they are two steps from keeling over and quitting, but my eyes are wrong because I’m not able to see what matters most.  I can’t see their internal language, I can’t hear them telling themselves that they are strong enough to make it to the next water station, run that next block or push it to the finish line.  I’m deceived by what I think I’d look like at that moment.  Truth is, I don’t know what I look like one step before falling to the ground because my body won’t proceed, I’ve never seen me pushing through what on-lookers call pain.  I’m not competing while snapping selfies to document my step by step journey that is a race.  Race pictures can document a moment in time but they don’t document what is going on in the moment internally for that athlete.  What we don’t see is feeling and emotion.  We may see tears as someone crosses the finish line or smiles tighter than we ever thought possible but the reason behind those tears and behind that smile are truly only recognized by that athlete finishing.  Throughout the day that athlete referred back to small snapshots in their head each time a negative thought crept in.  Any time they thought the day was ending before the finish line they referenced and pulled up an emotion that started in the pit of their stomach, something so personal and real that it gave them the reminder of why they were out there.  A race is nothing more than finding ways to recall that emotion over and over and over again.  It’s finding the reason to continue and removing the excuses to stop.  A race is a celebration of those emotions and a flip book of those internal snapshots and crossing the line is a volcanic explosion of all those mental pictures all at once.  I’ve seen what that looks like and I’ve felt what that feels like but I can’t say that any time I’ve witnessed someone cross the finish line that my description of what I see can do justice to what is happening in their mind, body and heart.

As I prepare for my half ironman this Sunday I’d like to share a handful of pictures and moments that will be carrying me as I swim, bike and run for 70.3 miles on my way to a goal time of under 5 hours.  I don’t expect my pictures to elicit the same emotion in you as it will in me but I’d like to provide perspective on what carries me to the finish line.



Many hours spent here



David and I exiting the water at High Cliff



Emmie Mom and Dad

 

Emmie Mara and I



Emmie's portrait of me



Emmie peaking through the glasses



Mason swing jumping



Farmer's Market with my person



Selfie

 

No two races are the same

No two races are ever the same, especially when it comes to guiding. 

I use a simple mantra when it comes to guiding; if I’m not 100% confident in my ability to get the person I’m guiding to the finish line for any reason, I won’t guide them.  I’ve stood by this as a means to be prepared for any race.  I treat guiding race prep exactly the same as my personal races; train, study the course to find any unique features for me as an athlete or that could make guiding someone else difficult.  I also consider the areas of strength and experience of the athlete I’m guiding has as well as the area they feel they may lack experience.  With David, this was an easy conversation, the swim.  Since the first conversation I had with David he made it clear that he had never swam tethered in open water.  Over the last year he has made tremendous gains in the pool easily swimming 2 miles at a time.  A week before the half iron race David had the opportunity for his first open water tethered swim at the Dare2Tri camp.  This camp is a tremendous opportunity for all triathletes with disabilities to receive guidance, instruction, guides and assistance as it relates to racing in a triathlon.  David expressed to me his appreciation for the swim time he had as he began to become familiar with the oddities that are open water swimming.    

   

David arrived at my house Thursday which was nice to have some more time to discuss the triathlon camp and for my son Mason to come up with a new game with David called “do you know where I am now?”  The game consisted of Mason moving from place to place in a room then asking David to identify where he was based off the sound of his voice.  David was a good sport as the game continued on to Friday morning as well.  One of the things I’ve enjoyed about guiding and having the opportunity to have these athletes at my house and around my family is to give my children the opportunity to understand things like blind or visually impaired on their own level.  Emmie, my daughter who’s 5, would refer to David as “blind folded”.  Not exactly the scenario but a small step for her understanding David’s world a little bit.  Most of David’s and my talk were about the upcoming swim for the race on Saturday morning.  Our plan was to head up to the race site early afternoon Friday and get in a practice swim together.  We had discussed strategy at length and how I try to swim in a straight line and let the athlete make subtle adjustments based on the tension of the tether tied between us.  If he gets to close I can either let him bump me or tap him to make him aware of a slight adjustment away from me.  This was the plan going in. 

David and I entering Lake Winnebago for our practice swim

Lake Winnebago is Wisconsin’s largest lake within its border at 215 square miles of surface.  The race takes place in the upper eastern corner of the lake and on Friday, our test swim day, the wind was blowing directly out of the west.  The water was choppy.  Choppy, at that point, became the word of the weekend.  We pulled our wetsuits on, adjusted the tether and walked to the shore.  Standing at the shore is a little intimidating without the ability to see the other side of the lake, the wind blowing in our faces didn’t help much either but on that hot afternoon at least the water felt refreshing.  The buoys for the race were already out and we were using those for points to swim to in order to practice swimming side-by-side and also to practice navigating turns.  The idea was that during the race there were two right-hand turns to make the triangle swim.  I was to swim on the left side of David which would allow me to bump in to him or cut him off to make the correcting turn to the right around the buoy.  For that day in those conditions, the guiding and tethering was a distant second in importance as David was having some difficulties getting settled in to swim.  We were averaging about 25 yards of swimming for each time we’d stop, regroup, gather our bearing and start swimming again.  I learned a valuable lesson that swim; regardless of how much or how little sight a person may have, the effects of swimming in the open water are the same.  Disorienting, misdirected, off-course and frustrating are all accurate descriptions of what Friday’s swim was for David.  I had been there before on my own, now I was trying to imagine how that would feel being on the end of a tether with little opportunity to verify my location or direction on my own.  When we would stop swimming and tread water David would try to point in the direction he thought we were trying to head, each time the course he pointed was a good 45 degrees, or more, off.  It felt as if he was trying to apply a concept that I greatly appreciate and marvel at with the visually impaired and blind athletes I’ve been around – feel.  He was working to feel his way through the swim from the perspective of where he was starting to swim and where he should be ending up.  He mentioned how in the pool he can feel himself moving along and feeling when he’d be getting near the wall in preparation to turn around.  He would feel as he neared the lane lines and make the subtle adjustments to stay off them.  All things that are doable in the pool but all things that disappear in the open water for most of us.   

Waiting for our wave to begin

Saturday morning David was already filling me in on the wind direction and speed as he spent most of the night with Siri, asking her “what is the wind speed”.  It was ideal for a 7:15 am swim; a couple miles an hour out of the south east, which meant much of the swim would be protected from the wind as it was coming off the shore.  We got to transition and hung the bike and began to unpack our swimming gear.  I set out my towel and set my cycling shoes, running shoes, socks and visor out like I normally do.  David chose to keep all his items in his bag where he knew where they’d be.  We put our wetsuits on more to keep us warm than to prepare to swim, it was in the low 50’s and enough wind to cause a slight chill.  We were in the final swim wave, 5, of the half iron distance and stayed back from the water as athletes began to push closer to the water as the time approached 7 am.  David, Meghann (my person), and I were standing in the sun on the cold wet grass simply waiting for the waves to begin.  David was quiet and Meghann picked up on his nerves.  I really hadn’t noticed or just didn’t care about his nerves because in 15 minutes our wave was starting and I was ready to guide.  We left our sweatshirts with Meghann and stood at the back of the half iron swimmers as waves began to move in to the water and begin their race.  While standing there I turned to David and asked something about being ready and he replied with a hesitant maybe or I think so… to which I said “You’re kidding right?!”  He didn’t say anything else and I kept walking him forward closer to the water as our wave was up next.  I wasn’t going to buy in to any hesitation on his part, I was his guide for the race and I wasn’t there to enable or build upon hesitation by asking or feeding it.  I kept moving towards the water and he kept right along with me.  Our wave went off and we were the last two to enter the water.   

Last ones out in the water

Prior to our start I was telling David that it was a shallow swim start that went out parallel with the shore and that many people were walking the first 75 yards before getting up to their shoulders deep and starting to swim.  We did the same.  I don’t know if this is unique to guides or just me but right before we started the swim I turned off the fact that this was a race.  For me guiding isn’t racing, it’s more of a job, it’s thinking and evaluating in each moment to make a decision to make the athlete’s race easier, harder, smoother or more difficult.  When David was ready to swim, he put his face down in the water and jumped ahead; I jumped with him and from that moment on, it was all about David.   

 The water was as smooth as a large lake could be, we were at the back of the pack with no threat of anyone coming up from behind us, it was by all means a perfect guiding situation for a swim.  Then David stopped swimming to find his direction; much like our practice swim we had made it a short distance before he started treading water and searching for the right direction to swim.  A few minutes would pass and he again began pointing at our swim target, and like the previous day’s swim he’d point off target.  We’d swim again and again we’d tread water.  His frustration built quickly especially as he’d tread water he’d slightly turn away from our target and in the few moments between him pointing on target and then pointing again, he’d already turn off target once more.  This continued for the better part of the first couple hundred yards of swimming.  When we would swim and his direction would drift I was continuing to try and get him to feel the tether, feel the tension of him pulling away from me in order to make that slight shift back towards me to stay on course.  Instead of changing his direction it would lead us to stop and tread water once again.  David’s patience had just about run out and as life guards were passing in kayaks or hanging out floating on noodles, he verbalized a thought I’ve had at one point during long open water swims, I don’t remember exactly what he said but it sounded like doubt that he could complete the swim.  I’m not one for motivational speeches or remember what my words were but what I began doing was asking him to trust me.  I never said trust and I never asked him anything, but what I was trying to impress upon him was to just swim.  I wanted him to get his face in the water and just swim, don’t worry about where, or how far or in which direction.  Trust me and swim was my message, however I expressed it as we treaded water tied together in the middle of a big ass lake.   

Swim complete!

It came together, whatever it was, when David would get farther away and the tether would stretch between us, he’d make his way back.  When David would begin getting too close, I’d wait for his left arm to reach out front as a part of his swim stroke and I’d give him a nudge on his left shoulder and he’d drift away.  We were swimming tethered and I couldn’t have been happier.  I was proud of David, proud of what he had to overcome and proud to be a part of it as we kept moving ahead, catching rhythm and passing buoys.  Over half way through the swim we passed someone.  David stopped quickly for some reason and I told him we had just passed someone, he smiled and then got back at it.  The two right hand turns we made were a non-issue, I tapped him on the left shoulder and he went right around.  The last stretch of the swim was headed to shore and right in to the waves.  David seemed to be enjoying the swim as he kept moving along and seemed to be swimming more comfortably and faster.  This was the hardest point to guide as I’d look to the beach ahead and get two eyes full of sun.  The sun was just over the tree line over the beach and it’s reflection against the water wasn’t helpful.  We managed and as we approached the beach I could see my dad off to the left of the swim exit waving with his camera in hand.  By this time the beach was empty except for Meghann, my mom, dad, a race announcer calling out David’s name and a few others.  I stood up and reached down to let David know that we were done swimming but he just kept swimming.  I kept waiting for his hand to touch the bottom of the lake but he kept going.  Finally a big tug and he popped up.  He tripped up a little standing as the water was only about knee high.  As he stood he smiled and wound up for a big high five.  We walked out of the water and had to navigate up some steps off the shore and back on to the grass.  It was an incredible feeling, I was excited for David; excited that he overcame his doubt and nerves and believed that he could complete the swim.  

We both knew the day wasn’t over but now that the swim had ended what was left was there for us to enjoy as he’s an experienced and accomplished cyclist and runner.

There's nothing too big

One week from tomorrow I will get my first opportunity to guide a good friend of mine, David Kuhn, in his first triathlon. Since meeting David there's one message that's rang through loud and clear to me, there's nothing too big. His actions support this mantra as he spent 2/3's of the month of May running...a marathon a day. David decided to begin his journey raising awareness and money for Cystic Fibrosis, a disease that his granddaughter battles. I've been chronically his journey on Facebook by sharing his updates and passing along his stories from the road. Now as he rests from his running to attend a triathlon camp and then race his first triathlon next weekend (a half iron distance) all before taking off again to continue his journey running around America, I wanted to take the time to ask for your support of his cause. According to David's last blog post on Day 11 of his run, he had logged just under 239 miles and raised about $1,300. I haven't seen updated numbers after 19 days of running and fundraising but that would put his miles at about double, around 500. David has been inspiring others and finding inspiration in those that have joined him. Each day of David's run has inspired me to continue to think that there's nothing too big. If a blind man can run 500 miles in 19 days and if total strangers can reach out to David and offer him lodging and a warm meal to help, then why can't I ask those that know me to help out as well? Your help may not be monetary, it may be sharing this blog on Facebook or Twitter, it may be posting a comment of encouragement for your friends to see, your help can be done in many ways that aren't just writing a check or entering your credit card numbers.

Every day there are miracles if you look close enough and if you believe that a difference can be made. These last 20 days David's run has been a miracle of mine that I've believed in and followed. I've believed that once he started his run that people would notice and people would help, now I'm trying to help that miracle. Please consider helping as David prepares for his first ever tethered open water swim this weekend, as he and I prepare to race together for 70.3 miles of swimming, biking and running, and please consider helping because there's a blind man running 11,000 miles because he wants to help create a miracle for his granddaughter.

To donate in the effort to fight Cycstic Fibrosis please go to David’s website: http://itsallicando.wordpress.com/about/

To volunteer or donate to David's expenses on his run please go to David’s website:  http://itsallicando.wordpress.com/about/

To spread the word share this blog to your Facebook page

To spread the word post this blog to Twitter

It's All I Can Do

In an ongoing effort to help people who are trying to make a difference by raising awareness and raising money for causes close to their hearts, I wanted to share my partnership with “It’s All I Can Do” found online at - http://itsallicando.wordpress.com/  and David Kuhn.  I'm doing this as Kelly, I'm doing this as The Living Athlete, I'm doing this as a guide, I'm doing this as a friend and I'm doing this because you read this blog.

David Kuhn loves his granddaughter very much, a granddaughter, Kylie, he may have limited time with.  Kylie has cystic fibrosis which means her body creates excess fluid which affects her lungs by making it difficult to breathe and her digestive system making it challenging to process foods as well as many other symptoms.  The life expectancy for someone with cystic fibrosis is 35, Kylie is 11.  David started It’s All I Can Do in an effort to run the perimeter of the United States.  He has plotted a course that starts in Seattle Washington and heads East on his way to Maine.  Along with this ongoing journey he will be competing in the High Cliff Half Ironman Saturday June 14th as well as Ironman Wisconsin Sunday September 7^th.  His goal with all this running and racing is to “put a nail in the coffin of cystic fibrosis.” 

David’s cause needs our help.  Any goal such as running around the United States requires more than just the person running, but unique to David’s fundraising and running efforts is that it’s literally not possible for him to do on his own.  He can’t fly to Seattle with a backpack and credit card and start running like I could because David’s legally blind.  He needs sighted guides to be there with him for his safety.  He needs us to tell his story and spread the word in order to find that next runner that may be the difference in finishing his run.  He needs us to follow him online and share through our own communities and networks to keep him moving across county.  He needs runners!  Right now he’s working to assemble a core team to run as many consecutive days as possible starting in Seattle as early as NEXT WEEK!  He’s committed to running/walking/jogging a marathon a day with a group of volunteers who want to make a difference in his life as he makes a difference in Kylie’s life and all others effected by cystic fibrosis.  If you’re reading this and have a calling to help here’s what you can do to turn that calling in to action right now:

1.       Go to his website:  http://itsallicando.wordpress.com/ 

2.       Share his website with friends, family, running clubs, anyone

3.       Reach out via his website to volunteer to run with him; especially if you’re in the Seattle area, you could be the person to start the momentum a journey like this needs!

4.       Follow David’s progress

Lastly, if you have money – donate, if you can run – reach out and volunteer to guide, if you are on Facebook, have a blog, on Twitter – SHARE David’s story.  Each one of us is the difference, we just get caught up in wanting to know exactly what difference it is we are making – truth is, you will probably never know the exact impact you had on David’s run, but you will know that you did something to help.

Website: http://itsallicando.wordpress.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/itsallicando

Twitter: @allicandoisrun

Boston Strong

When I began running and training for my first marathon, Boston was always on my mind.  I didn't hold it for a goal but often thought about what it would be like to run in the Super Bowl of marathons.  The history, the stories, the prestige of it all.  A race that I would have to qualify for, the concept of being required to run a given pace at a given age excited me.  To hear that someone ran Boston, or see someone in a Boston race shirt or jacket, that was the shit.  The distinct blue and yellow of the gear could be picked out at any race expo and I couldn't help but nod and be in aw of those who earned it.

When I began running I was also naive; Boston only meant running a fast time at another race and having the opportunity to be accepted to race there.  What I've realized is the much deeper meaning of the Boston Marathon.  Although it holds a standard of the race of all road races for runners, it continues to serve as a means of equality.  Since 1975 the marathon has allowed for physically impaired athletes to participate.  They have qualifying standards for all types of disabilities and even two person teams comprised of an able bodied runner and a non-able runner.  I've been integrated in to the blind and visually impaired athletic world for a few years and can report that this year's Boston Marathon field had the highest number of visually impaired/blind runners ever.  Boston has opened it's race to all athletes who are elite in their respective athletic world.  I commend The Boston Athletic Associate for this equality as it doesn't exist across all race types.  In contrast, Ironman does not have qualifying spots for Kona to anyone who falls in their "Physically Challenged" division.  They offer a separate lottery for all those that are Physically Challenged, which is comprised of all disabilities: blind, amputee, wheel chair bound....  Recently, as a part of that lottery they selected a visually impaired women, the first to my knowledge, who will get to compete in Kona this year.  She's very qualified as a multi-Ironman finisher and very deserving.  She, like the other "Physically Challenged" triathletes, just haven't been given the chance to qualify on their own accord.

Lastly, my being naive in only thinking about my personal qualifying standard for Boston was not knowing about their fundraising program.  The Boston Athletic Association will partner with you or your organization as a means to raise funds for causes you care about.  I love this idea and had the chance to watch a friend of mine spend her free time and efforts raising money for the Girl Scouts of Eastern Massachusetts.  She personally raised over $5,000.  Allowing the opportunity to leverage The Boston Marathon in a manner to raise money and awareness is simply a great idea.

This year helped me recognize the celebration that the Boston Marathon is for so many people.  I've loved reading the stories of my visually impaired friends, my friend from growing up, learning about people who fought addiction and started foundations to help others fight addiction, runners who carried another runner across the finish line as the athlete was collapsing before the finish line.  All of the hope, all of the effort, all of the work by the athletes, the fundraisers is all on stage in the best way possible at the Boston Marathon.  I'm proud to know that the biggest running race is truly available for anyone even if they can't see, or can't walk, as long as they have the heart, they are welcome.

Thank you BAA and thank you Boston.

Trust someone else

When I started running I took a 12 week half marathon training program and condensed it to 4.  When I finished the race limping I wanted to do a full marathon.  I researched different programs to find the right one for me.  I found some that seemed to work and changed them as I saw fit.  What experience did I have in creating and modifying training plans...refer back to my first sentence.

A lot has changed since 2009; experience, injury, divorce, mohawk, wisdom, The Living Athlete.  Life changes, priorities change, goals change.  So I too continue to change.

I made the decision to hire a coach.  I've placed my trust in this coach with a single goal and many circumstances surrounding that goal.  Circumstances: 50% of my days are non-negotiable children time from the hours of 6 am until I go to work and after work until they go to bed - non-negotiable.  On my weekends with my children this training window narrows to outside the hours of 6 am until 8 pm.  Mondays, Tuesdays and every other Friday, Saturday and Sunday - kill me.  I work a full-time job 8-5 Monday - Friday, two of those lunch hours I'm at TRX at the YMCA which leaves Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday over my lunch break for something.

The goal I'm partnering with my coach to achieve: #1 be available for any and all training and build up races for a good friend who's training for Ironman.  This particular athlete has a lead foot on the bike and has been known to run marathons...many of them.... on back-to-back days.  I want to be at my best so he can be at his.  Once IMWI is in the books, maybe I'll find my own race to burn up some of this training on, but until then, my first training day is tomorrow.  Here's to 2014 and a new way of doing the old things I've always done before, but doing them more better ;-)

I have the coach I want giving me the training plan I need to accommodate the life I want to live with the support I have.  I have two simple words to push forward with this year that were passed to me by someone very special... I'm Ready!!

    

My new rule to live by

Demons, skeletons, baggage... call it what you want, we all have it.  There are conversations that come up that give us that tingle, our stomach drops, palms sweat, nerves kick in.  As those conversations may continue and dangerously approach, our bodies may kick in some endorphins as we go "fight or flight" mode.  Then it happens, that one question that we have steered clear of, done everything in our power to avoid is about to get asked.  Now what?

Maybe we have started a new dating relationship or maybe we've been in a long term relationship, maybe even married.  What's our biggest secret?  What is it that we are so sure of that if the person sitting across from us knew, they'd run away?  What are the three things that we are so certain would eliminate us from being a partner that we guard and hide?  Or the three things that we've only told our best of best friend but would never dare to tell our partner out of fear?

As this fear exists, what conversations do we avoid?  What words are out there that at any moment we hear one, our attention gets quickly diverted to the source?  If a conversation or question may touch this fear what do we do avoid it... quickly remove ourselves from that conversation...head to the bathroom...change the subject?  What behaviors have we adapted to avert the risk?  What relief falls upon us when a potential conversation that may uncover this fear goes in another direction and our secret lives another day?  A sigh... a deep breath, a thank you God..knock on wood?  

As these fears exist, what is it that we are afraid of?  Are we afraid that our partner would look at us differently?  We afraid that the person we love won't love the person we actually are?  Are we truly showing this other person who we really are if we conveniently find ways to avoid certain conversations?  Who is it that this partner loves?...us...or this projection of us that we created to hide our baggage... an alternate us that we think is the us that is worthy of love? 

Now, what if our partner has fears just like we do?  Who the hell are we? 

What if we laid those demons, skeletons and baggage on the table?  What if we took those three things we fear most and made those the first things we shared with our new special person?  I don't mean share in a 30,000 foot level share or a tap-dance around them like we've done so many times before, I mean share, say what it is and own that those three things are part of us.  Are we scared if we did that, they wouldn't like us?  Scared that they'd turn and run?  Then don't tell them and hope we never have to talk about it.  Who is it we want this person to love?  us?  or fearful secret us?  Let's say we lay it all out there and let's say they turn and run. . . was it that bad?  What did we loose?... the opportunity at a relationship of fear?  What if we tell them?  What if we just started a relationship with a person who knows the worst imaginable things about us and at the end of the conversation they are still sitting there? 

What if they follow our lead and at the end of the night, both of us are still sitting there?  Imagine that beginning...

What if we're in a relationship of fear and hiding skeletons?  What if we opened up and shared?  This person tells us they love us each day?  They tell us they love us no matter what?  Isn't this no matter what?  What if we tell the person and they run?  What if we tell them and they say they will never forgive us?  What if they tell us those things are so bad they can't be with us?  Ask them what their fears are because if we've never shared them, they probably haven't either...