Raleigh 70.3, Part III: The Run

Raleigh 70.3, Part III: The Run

When I first signed up for this half Ironman, I knew my swim would be slow and my ride would be average, so the plan was to make-up some time on the run. The Universe had other plans though, and handed me the stress fracture in my hip. It was literally only days before the race when my chiropractor agreed that I could try a walk/run of the course, but only if I swore a blood oath that if it hurt, I would stop. And, in a cruel twist of fate, advised that my best strategy would be to run the uphills and walk the down. That goes against everything I hold dear in life, but okay. I figured I would run a mile/walk a mile throughout the race for as long as I could.

My strategy worked perfectly… for the first quarter mile.

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Raleigh 70.3, Part II: THE BIKE

(ICYMI: Part I: THE SWIM)

Let’s call it like it is. I crushed the ride on this race. 18.71 average speed. My normal pace with a group where I’m drafting is closer to 17.5, so I had aspirations of maybe holding a 17 mph average. Crushed. It.

What helped me is my Garmin died before the ride even started, so I had no idea for the entire 56 miles what my pace was. I just rode according to how I felt. The first 3-5 miles were shaky (I kept repeating, “You’re out of the water. You’re alive.”), but then we turned right onto the highway, I settled into my arrow bars and literally said out loud, “Let’s make some time.”

Fun fact: They mark your age in sharpie on your left calf in an Ironman race. Not sure why, but...

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Raleigh 70.3, Part I: THE SWIM

Raleigh 70.3, Part I: THE SWIM

On Sunday, June 4, I completed my first (because there will be more) Half Ironman. 1.2 mile swim. 56 mile bike ride. 13.1 mile run.

Being my first IM, there’s a lot to process, especially as I didn’t think I’d be able to complete the race due to my hip injury. I am thrilled beyond all words that I finished and probably most proud of the fact that I have (as of yet) to get the IM tattoo splattered across, you know, my face.

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Table For One

I just returned from a brief vacation—three days in the Virginia mountains. It was my first solo trip. Or rather, first solo vacation. I’ve travelled alone for business, but have always shied away from the idea of vacationing alone. On a business trip, I may be eating dinner alone at the bar but it should be quite obvious I’m not in Orangeburg, SC for a relaxing get-away, so there was never any awkwardness. But eating at a renowned local tavern in a quaint VA town where people are sporting “I ❤ VA” t-shirts and everyone is holding hands and taking selfies, red alert: Solo single female traveler in your midst.

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