IM Los Cabos: The Bike

If you missed IM Los Cabos: Pre Race/H2O click here.

As I left transition, I kept thinking, what happened? Did I have a really good swim? Is his transition bag gone? Where is he? With the lead in my hand, I clipped my new shoe plates into my pedals and I rode.  We trained the bike Friday and Saturday and I was feeling pretty good about a sub-six hour ride despite the hills.  I am a hill-lover.  I love the climb.  I love the burn in my quads; the sound of a powerful exhale.  The thumping in my chest.  I love cresting a hill and dropping back into my seat.  I climb on my feet.

Practice Ride Friday.

 I love hills. Did I mention that already?

This picture is fully and completely stolen from finisherpix.com. The best pictures on the circuit.

As I set out, I found myself riding the familiar road to Cabo San Lucas.  There were some bumpy patches, and some aluminium speed bumps, but I didn’t mind either.  At the first turn around, I started to count.  How many minutes will it be until I see Ricardo.  I figured that I would take that time and double it since we now would be riding in opposite directions of the turn around. 

Boom.

I had counted about 2 minutes, which meant that he was 4 minutes behind me.  On the flats, Ricardo has been consistently faster than me, but on the hills, I am generally stronger than him.  But he has MUCH improved. I didn’t know how this was going to pan out.  The next turn around would be about 45km away.  As my mind raced I was passed by a woman in a green bathing suit.  There was a “V” on her right leg, indicating she was in the 55-59 age group. WOW. Admiration. Wow.

I raced my plan, taking water and Gatorade at every hydration station.  The water, I used to dump over my hear and arms, the Gatorade I drank.  I kept a steady flow of gel going as well.  One gel every 45 minutes to an hour.  We decided against Powerbars this time as we though our regular PB and jelly would do.  When I reached into my bento box for my sandwich bag, out popped my salt pills.  Hasta Luego sodium! I hope I didn’t really need those. And I bit the bag holding my sandwich open.   

I love peanut butter almost as much as I love hills.  The ¼ sandwich was goooooood.  And I put the bag back.  When I arrived at the hill, (see below marked “Big Ass Hill”) I grinned as I started taking hill points.  “Hill points” are the amount of people I pass on hills.  I don’t know how many I took until I saw a familiar green bathing suit standing on the side of the road. “Do you have what you need?” I yelled. 

“You haven’t got an extra CO2 cartridge do you?” She asked.

“In fact, I do.” 

This has been the first time in an Ironman I have been able to help a fellow athlete.  I stopped my bike and fished out my extra cartridge.  “Now, do you know how to change a tire?” She asked.

“That, I can’t help you with.” I responded.  I have changed one road tire in my life and it was not really me who changed it.  Knowing that this would be a time-consuming endeavor with no guarantee, I left her in the hands of the race-mechanics that ride the course on scooters trouble-shooting.  Ricardo would tell me later that she passed him.  

I got back on my bike and continued riding the 5.5km climb. 

Only one song came to mind. And only 5 words, repeated themselves over, and over, and over, and over, and over until I started singing it myself. 

The Long and Winding Road … da, da …. da, da …

 “Isn’t this fun.”  I yelled as I was taking another hill point. “We pay good money for this. Enjoy it.”  And I rode on.  When I got to the turn around, I started counting again.  If it’s more than 2 minutes, I have gained some time. 

4 minutes.  I was now 8 minutes ahead. If I could keep this pace, and Ricardo keep his, I might have a chance of “winning him” as my students would say.  And I rode back to start my second loop.

SMACK. POW. BOOM.  Like a Batman cartoon, the wind slapped me in the face.  The ride to Los Cabos would be just that.  An assault.  A wind assault.  A slap in the face, and a sound that hollers, “Ha ha ha ha haa, you are pedaling and not moving very fast …. Sucker!”

I would suffer until the turn around, scooping my peanut butter and jelly out with my fingers because the bread had been soaked with water as I doused myself.  I would wear a grimace instead of a grin, and remember, This is temporary.

But it wasn’t.

They were cross winds and when I turned around, it felt just the same.  Smack.  Time. Count.

6 minutes.  6 minutes = 12 minutes.  Indeed I was increasing my lead.

Now.  This is an important detail.  Ricardo and I went to a wedding on February 23.  This was supposed to have been a big training weekend, but, well, it was a wedding.  The only training we did was wine and dancing.  The night before the wedding, two friends of Ricardo’s made a bet on who would win between the two of us. 

Sidenote: Ricardo and I met at the finish line of Ironman Cozumel in 2011.  We have a similar pace.

So Jeroen bet on Ricardo, and Reuben bet on me.  We took a picture just in case there was ever a reason to not remember having made the bet. 

Yep.  That's a $1000 bet alright.

When I made my way back to the “Big Ass Hill” I was feeling spent.  My sub-6 hour dream was over and I was once again singing,

The LONG and WINDING road. 

And again, I began to giggle.That's when I turned to poetry.  Inspired by the butterflies and bees along the way, I began.

Bees and Butterflies,

Are two different things,

One flutters it's wings,

And one really stings.

That's as far as I got, but like The Long and Winding Road, I repeated it over, and over, and over, unable to come up with a second verse without fear that I might forget the first.  This is called Ironbrain.

Out and back and that was that – done deal. I had opened up the lead to about 15 minutes.  

Ricardo is a much better runner than I, but is he that much better?  His marathon was 10 minutes faster than mine back in May, but now … his run had improved, as mine seemed to have worsened.

IM Los Cabos: The Run: Coming as soon as my big ass pile of grading and report cards are done. 

If you'd like something to tie you over, do visit IM Brasil: The run. 

Fun fact:  The IM Los Cabos swim was actually 4.1km rather than 3.8km.  For real. 

Bike time: 6:31:33

T2:  2:05

I left the tent screaming, "I feel like a million bucks."

the Moral of the story is ...

M DOT

a couple of Months ago i went to pick up a set of wheels at the cervelo shop south of where i live.  (the same shop that fixed My bike after it snapped off the roof rack while driving under an iron gate that was too short ... that's another story).  while there, i noticed these cute little ironMan keychains.  they were little plexiglass M DOTs.

M DOT

naturally, i bought two.  one silver. one red.

when i got home, i gave ricardo his, and i kept the silver (Mirrored) one for myself.

then one day, i snatched my keys to open a door, and there it was. DOT.  No M.  It was like the head of my little M DOT had been decapitated.  just the head.  so I discarded of the head, and thought little about it.  after all.  what good is a head without a body?

wednesday came (months after losing M).

i had just finished up a bunch of tests at the ABC hospital across from my school.  the walk to the metro is a little sketchy, so we teachers have free access to the ABC shuttle. i normally walk.

things just feel right.  life just feels right.  not as I would have ever planned or expected, but right.

the sun was setting and a light breeze was dancing across My skin. the shuttle roared by as i left the hospital, and i hoped this tiMe it would be there once i arrived to the shuttle stand.  sure enough. it was.  i climbed up the stairs and took my seat.  second back.  on the right.

M. on the driver's console.

i wondered if what i was seeing was true.  indeed it was. getting closer, I could see the ridged upper edge where the DOT had cracked off.  

perhaps the driver's name is Mauricio, or Miguel, or Martin, or Juan Martinez.  Perhaps he has a daughter named Molly.  Maybe he is an ironMan too.  for Me, what Matters is that it Mattered.  after all. everything does.

Moral of the story: you gotta get out of your head sometimes. 

If you get it.  Leave a comment.  If you love it. Share.

Peace.

Daytripping

Saturday night I was waiting to share, “it’s amazing what you see when you have a camera with you.” I didn’t actually say it, but I thought it, and wasn’t about to interject.  Maybe it was meant to be just that.  A thought. 

Yesterday I geared up for a run and set off with my new headphones in tote.  As I crossed the street to Reforma (which is closed on Sundays) I smiled.  The streets were filled with people doing the same thing as me. Enjoying the outdoors.  With my Iphone strapped to my arm, I decided I would share this one with you too.   

So here is the tour operator.  

 I made my way up Reforma.  The street is divided by various statues along the way.  Here are two of my favorites.  It has nothing to do with the fact that they are female.  Really.

So I continued down Reforma and to my left I see this.  What a great place for a yoga class. I think.

I continue on and again to my left is the fine arts theater.  The architecture here is amazing.

I make it to the end of Reforma and zig-zag my way through the crouds as I head for Zócalo, one of the largest squares in the world.  There's one building that I love on my way in because it's covered in beautiful tiles.

 I continue my way in and there it is, the biggest Mexican flag I have ever seen.  It's flying at half mast, so I begin to wonder.  

I dance my way across the square, enchanted by the cathedral.  I am constantly enchanted by structures of the past; even more-so after reading Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett.  

Vendors cramp into the small spaces bordering the square and you can find your typical Mexican souvenir here.

 As I make my way to the north-east corner, I can see the ruins of the Templo Mayor. Again, an enchanting place with a lot of spirit and history.  I shuffle my way back to the square and my music begins to be drown out by the beat of someone else's drum.  I remove my headphones and watch.

I almost wish I had a headdress.  They twirl and stomp and shake.  Like they mean it.  

I take a unknown route back to Reforma and make my way home.  It's a great run, and I am so glad you could join me.  

This is Diane checking out, and debunking the myth that I live in a city blanketed in a brown cloud.  This sky is crystal clear and the city is vibrant.  

Peace out. 

Ironman Brasil Part III: The Run "Gotta pump my arms, to keep up the fast pace."

Before Ironman Cozumel my sister collected and compiled messages from friends and family.  She printed the messages on blue-morpho butterfly cards and I carried them with me for the whole race.  Several of them are now weathered from the rain, and some are caked with pepto bismol while others are terracotta stained from being in a bag with Advil.  I love these cards.  I didn’t bring the cards with me this time but I read them all days before the race, and then again the night before.  I also happened to Skype my friend Meghan the day before.

Meg had written me the following message:

Mutha f&%kin rain,

Rainin on my face,

Gotta pump my arms,

To keep up the fast pace,

Beating up the street,

Trying to create heat,

Almost done this run,

That was so much fun.

-Rap song made up by Meghan on 20 mile run in pouring rain and 60km winds

Skyping with her the day before allowed me to get the actual tune and tempo of the rap, and sure enough, I ran out of the tent singing “mutha f&%kin rain …rainin on my face …”  (It wasn’t even raining).  The little Advil pill was rested gently in my hand as my arms pumped me along while my legs just did whatever my brain told them to.  I entered the streets and wondered how this run was really going to go down.  I had done some math on the bike (this calculation took me almost the entire 6 hours).  If I started the race at 7:00, and the swim was about 1:25 based on what the lady told me … and if I biked at an average speed of 31km/h, then I would have to do a 4:30 marathon.  Be present Diane.  remember how powerful the present is.  Enjoy the moment.  

How many countries start with the letter I? Hint: there are 9 and none obscure ~ Sally

I asked someone what time it was. “2:30.”  This was just as I had calculated (over a 6-hour bike ride); I would need a 4:30 marathon to break 12 hours.  I ran a 4:36 marathon in Cozumel, and in training for Brazil I only ran up to 21km (before getting plantar-fasciitis).  I ran that distance only once.  A 4:30 marathon would be tough, but not impossible. 

Playing like a girl doesn’t mean what it used to.  ~Danah

As I left the town and head for the hills (literally) I ran up on a water station with a port-o-let.  Chrissie Wellington mentions in her book A Life Without Limits (which I recommend to you all) that stopping a squatting is more than appropriate in Ironman.  I only pull this move in the dark and when under the influence, so it wasn’t going to happen today.  I actually stopped to use the port-o-let.  (This is the last you will hear of peeing – I promise).  I grabbed water on my way back to the road and popped my Advil. 

One can never consent to creep when one feels the impulse to soar. ~Helen Keller  via Sharon

The run in Brazil is one 21.1km loop and then two 10.5km loops.  That first loop has some bad-ass hills and the hydration stations offered water, Gatorade, Pepsi, crackers, salt and bananas.  There was no gel.  No Gel! Luckily I had stuffed a few in my tri-suit just in case.  I timed my nutrition and used my body to measure what I needed.  Water.  Pepsi. Water and salt. Pepsi and a bun. Water and a gel.  I started out with a decent pace, but then at about 5km my knees and ankles started to kill.  I think it was my ankles that hurt more.  The insides of my ankles.  Anyone? 

Every worthwhile accomplishment big or little, has its stages of drudgery and triumph; a beginning, a struggle, and a victory. ~Ghandi   via Leah

I only had 3 Advil left, so I attempted to ration.  I decided I would take one at 10km, another at 20km, and the last at 30km.  When I came in after the first loop of 21.1 I knew that I would be cutting the 12-hour mark close.  I couldn’t however, pick up my pace without feeling a lot of physical joint pain, so I didn’t.  I was so happy coming around that loop. Rather than Pepsi, Gatorade and water, the hydration station had chicken soup broth.  And it was hot.  I have heard great things about this during a race, so I took a cup and downed it.  It felt great in the stomach and was salty to taste.    

Today is your day, your mountain (big ass swim, marathon, effin long bike) is waiting so get on your way! ~Dr. Seuss  via Sara

I remember reading Ironman advice once.  It went something like this:

During the swim: hold back

For the first ½ of the bike: hold back

For the second ½ of the bike: still hold back

For the first half of the run: hold back

Between km 21-37: hold back

When there is 5km left: DON’T hold back

I held back.   I passed some familiar faces along the way and was sure to give high 5s to passing runners if I knew them.  There were several turn around points on the run so you had runners passing in both directions. When I reached the loop turn-around once again I looked at the race clock.  It said 10:57.  By the time I looped out it would be 11:00 (race time).  My current pace was about 8.5-9km/h.  If I wanted to finish the race in under 12 hours I would have to finish the last loop 10.5km, in an hour; 10.5km/h.  I have run this pace before, in five or 10km race, but now, no way.  I set off for the last loop and the sun had already set.  The weather was cooling off and the moon lit the Ironman sky (I don’t actually know if the moon was even out).  I started to pick up my pace at about 2km and following that there was a long hill.  The grade wasn't huge, but a hill is a hill is a hill, and I was 215km in.  I picked up my pace.

Reminder: I had no watch on.

I came to what I thought was about ½ way and was feeling pretty good. This is that last 5km Diane. You are allowed to give it.  Should I?  No, not should Diane, could I?  Yes.

I have met my hero and she is me ~Georgette Sheehan  via Meghan

I don’t know where these bursts come from. Out of nowhere, I started to go faster and faster.  By the time I reached the town again, I realized there was only 3km left.  I was passing people left and right (literally – again).  The girl who had passed me 10km back was now in my view.  Go Diane.  Fly.  You have this.  Don’t slow down.  Fly. I did.  When there was one kilometer left, I gunned it.  Having no idea of the time, but feeling light in my legs and determined to finish strong, I all out sprinted.  At the end, you enter a pathway of people.  Many have their hands out to high five and others are stretched into the space taking pictures.  I was flying.  As I rounded the corner into the race chute I looked up at the clock.  11:59:20.  I can’t describe this feeling; but I have felt it twice in the last month, once after Magic Carpet, and now.  I jumped up and down, and screamed “Yeahhhhhhh”  flailing my arms and laughing with pure spastic joy, I crossed the line.

Sidney, the race announcer gave me a special shout out and this time I heard it, “Diane from Canada, but living in Mexico, you …  are …  an Ironman!” 

Run time: 4:28:45

Race time: 11:59:24

Making my way out of the chute I carried my giddy little self into the massage tent. One advantage of being alone was that I could now indulge without worrying about anyone waiting.  Smiling through the entire massage, I left the tent and head on over to the medical tent to take care of a huge blood-blister.  One good look and I realized my blister could wait.  There were at least 50 people hooked up to IV. 

I collected my belongings and made my way home.  It took about 30 minutes working a dread lock out of my hair in the shower, but I got cleaned up, and then left in mad search of a burger and fries.

The side of the road look as good a place as any to eat my hard-earned meal while cheering the rest of the athletes in.  I got to see the para-athletes, 68-year-old American woman Theo (the oldest participant of the race), Mike (who raced with his wife Vanessa until km 21 when her body said “no more lady”), and Alicia, one of the last warriors to cross the finish line.  These athletes that are on the course for 16+ hours are true-blue heroes of mine.  Perseverance, determination and courage define who they are.  These are the people that demonstrate what it really means to not give up, and they live the Ironman motto: “Impossible is nothing.” 

Whether it be a sporting endeavour, raising a family, writing a book, or working on any other project that inspires you, I leave you with this:  We were born to achieve extraordinary measures.  Settling for mediocrity while comfortable, limits us from achieving our real potential.  We all have gifts to give and talents to share.  There is nothing wrong with highlighting your amazingness; in fact, it's a crime to keep it hidden.  So, get on out here.  That's right, OUT HERE!  Make magic happen.

I am extremely thankful to all of YOU.  Thank you for following, for the shout outs, for sharing your stories, and for encouraging me to keep moving forward. I was recently reminded of Aristotle's, "The total is greater than the sum of the parts."  How true this is.

And a special thank you to the Baptiste Power Yoga Institute (totally out of the box, incredible yoga/personal journey)  and Trimundo (an evolution in triathlon for Mexico) for allowing me to race with their logos on my legs.  A true marriage of two passions, yoga and triathlon.  Yogathlon if you will. 


Finally, the hugest THANK YOU and acknowledgment to Ricardo.  I met Ricardo at the finish line of Ironman Cozumel. (And proceeded to move there 2 1/2 weeks later)  Thank you Ricky P. for dragging me out of bed at 4:45 daily, for encouraging me after my goggles filled up with tears after crappy swims, and for taking me on amazing weekly adventures in the hills of Mexico.  Thank you for being the best guy a gal could ask for.  

  

Ironman Brasil Part I: The swim        Ironman Brasil Part II: The bike

Valle de Bravo Triathlon, March 3, 2012

The sun still hadn’t crawled over the horizon when the alarm rang at 5:30am.  We woke up and of course, the mental “to do” list began churning.  Stick number on helmet, remember toilet paper, put spare tube on bike, breathe, put chip on ankle, coffee or no coffee? My gels have caffeine, what’s the swim going to be like? How is the nerve in my jaw?  These are the regular morning of race thoughts.  My heart rate was probably at a stead 80bpm and it wasn’t 6:00am yet.

We made our way to the race site and the promotional tents were being set up.  People were making their way into the transition area and preparation took form.  I had my bag of items I would need, and items I might need for the day.  This is what my typical triathlon set up goes like.

Socks go inside bike shoes (I still don’t keep my shoes clipped in for transition) and helmet goes on shoes.  Sunglasses go in helmet with bike gloves.  Running shoes are placed behind bike shoes with race number on belt.  Gel is placed in shoes.  This time, I raced with shorts and a shirt, so I also had to place the shirt on my shoes as well.  Gel is taped to bike, water is filled, bike is put into proper gear and tired are inflated.

Forgotten item: small towel to dry/clean my feet

Solution: I used my pants instead

Items to keep out: Wetsuit, goggles and swim cap

Race start was 9:22 so I spent the next hour or so talking, reminding myself to breathe and taking some fun pictures of athletes preparing for the race.  Taking pictures allowed me to chill, and not focus on my swelling nerves. 

At 9:00 (on the dot), the juvenile race started and the energy soared.  Young athletes were out giving it their all, and we were waiting to become part of the action.  Shortly after, groups of athletes were signalled by the triathlon, each of us beginning our respective race; 1500m swim, 40km bike and 10km run; the standard Olympic distance triathlon.

I am sure that by 9:15 my heart rate was thumping at a steady 120bpm.  I gave a wave to Ricardo and assured him with a thumbs-up, that I was good to go.  I think I even convinced myself for a micro-second that I was totally cool.  Excitement, anticipation were competing  against fear and anxiety; a battle field inside my chest where victory would be crowned to the emotion last standing.

Totally masking my fear.  I think I might consider trying out for a play this year.

At about 9:20 the girls were motioned to enter the water and with a splash, I was in.  The horn. 

100m – 300m: I am ok, I am ok.  Keep swimming.  She looks to be about your pace.  Try to draft.  I don’t like drafting.  Don’t draft. Find space.  Stop thinking and glide.  Stretch your arm.  Don’t stretch your arm, your shoulder is weak.  Am I going off course?  I am. Where is the group. Where is the buoy.  I am getting tired already. Am I tired.  I am breathing heavy.  Thump, thump, thump.

300m – 500m: Oh shit! The swell is coming.  Don’t focus on it, don’t focus on it.  What you focus on grows, Diane.  What’s the worst thing that could happen?  I stop and call for help.  Someone comes to rescue me.  Hey, I see people ahead of me.  Glide Diane. 

Stage directions: Tidal wave enters stage and knocks Diane off her feet.  She us upside down and unable to gain control.  She tosses and turns and doesn’t know what way is up or down. 

What you focus on grows.  Stop focusing on this swell and swim, Diane. Glide!

Stage directions: Tidal wave leaves.  Sun appears.

With that, the swim became the swim, and only that.  No drama, no fear, no inventing a horror story, no panic.  A few gulps of water here and there, the odd person swimming on to my feet, the typical me swimming far to the left of the course, but a finish; a solid swim, and in my best 1500m time; a whopping 33:42. 

Q: Is that a laugh line, and why do my goggles leave a mark for such a long time? A: 35-39

Swim pictures: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.333534926696754.86701.258866570830257&type=3&l=6b04ecfa7f

Transition 1 (T1):  3:01 = one word; ridiculous

I ran to the bike mount line and hopped on.  I had heard that the roads were “bad” on the course and that I would have to take care.  I also knew that there were hills, so I set a lofty goal of finishing my bike in 1:15.  I rode aggressively, flying down the hills without breaking for speed bumps and happily pumping lactic acid into my quads on the climb.  I didn’t get passed, not by girls and not by guys. This, I like.  There was one girl that I passed on the first loop (I though her name was Gina) and we rode together for a bit.  On the second loop however, I let Gina go as I hunted riders from behind, pegging them one by one.  I loved hearing “Go Keaton!” as Ricardo snapped pictures of not only me, but of every rider that whizzed on by. 

Something about the clothesline in the background that I just love.

Bike pictures: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.333928059990774.86795.258866570830257&type=3&l=a286ba2014

Bike time: 1:13:25

Transition 2 (T2): 2:23. 

There is a restaurant in Brazil called Cervantes.  You could order and steak, pineapple and cheese sandwich there, and they will take the order, make the sandwich on a toasted bun, serve you with spicy mustard, smile, take your money and give you change in less time that it took me to get off my bike and put on my running shoes. Not to mention, the sandwich is AMAZING.

Vegetarian wouldn't be vegetarians if they knew about this.

By the time I started running, the sun was out in full force.  I was feeling ok, but just ok.  During the run, I usually lose some time, and this is where I normally get passed.  Here in Mexico I have had a hard time adjusting to the altitude.  I can’t seem to run my pace, but slowing down allows me to avoid the dreaded runners stitch.  The run organizers did a great job of providing lots of water and Gatorade along the course.  The volunteers (mainly kids) were so great with holding out bags of water, many yelling “Water for your face! Water on your head? Water?” With that, people lined the 5km loop cheering us on. One girl passed me with a "Q" on her leg.  "Q" is my category, and I am embracing my second year in age group 35-39.  Her pace was just a bit too fast for me (or was it?) to keep up with, so I let her go on, and I resorted to opening a package of Gu Chews that I had gripped in my hand.  When I chopped trough about 8 or so, I offered them to the dude who was slushing his feet hot at my heals.  “Quieres?” I asked. He accepted them graciously and I felt good having shared. The second loop was a lot better than the first as I knew what to expect in terms of hills.  One climb on the out, descent on the back.  This meant I got to finish the race with a down hill. 

I don't carry peanuts on my run.  In hand - Gu chews.

Run time: 55:06

Run pictures:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.334121796638067.86838.258866570830257&type=3&l=6408f1c719

Finisher shots:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.334172513299662.86850.258866570830257&type=3&l=46efda7e9e

Race time: 2:47:37       Category: 5/19        Female: 13/63          Overall: 154/407

I don't race to win, I race to maintain a steady chocolate intake.  Today I earned 300g of Cadburys mini-eggs.

This isn’t a PB for my Olympic race, but it was my favourite Olympic race so far.  I have come a long way since I got pulled out of the water by the rescue boat in Colombia; and 35-39 is young yet. 

Race highlights

• Fastest 1500m swim
• Fastest 40km bike
• Corona and little pools to sit in at the finish line
• Down hills thinking “I can’t believe I haven’t flatted … these roads are brutal!”  But not easing up
• The cheering on of spectators
• Bagged water

Race lowlights

• Late start time so HOT run
• I forgot to lock my port-o-let (a few people may have seen a flash … and by “may have”  I mean “definitely, positively" saw a full frontal)

This remains, my favorite outfit of all time! 

I will most definitely do this race again.

Swim.Bike.Run.Peace

D.