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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Dating Diaries: What It Takes To Be My Boyfriend

Recently, a friend jokingly said something to me like, “So, how many boyfriends have you gone through this year?

First of all—ouch. Second of all, with full respect to the men I’ve dated, my answer to that question would probably be, "Zero."That’s not to say I haven’t dated and that I haven’t been in “we’re only seeing each other” relationships. It’s just that I’ve thought of most of these men as “the person I’m dating,” versus “my boyfriend.” Which led me to wonder… what is the threshold for someone to cross over into “boyfriend” territory?

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