Monday, February 18, 2019

24 Hours In the Old Pueblo

Sometimes its the craziness of people and the events they create that really bring out the adventurous side of me.  When my friends put together a team for an event called 24 Hours In the Old Pueblo, I knew I wanted to be a part of it -- even before I found out the details.

In the rolling high desert near Tucson, Arizona, just west of a little town called Oracle, Epic Rides creates their own mini city of travel trailers, toy haulers and tents inside a sixteen mile loop of single track mountain bike trails.  And for one long weekend in February, come rain or shine, the crazies come out to race in teams of 6, 5, 4, 2 or even solo to see how many laps they can make in one 24-hour period. 

With names like Pozers and Dozers, Swipe Right and Do It All Night, Hold My Beer, the collective group is wild and wiley.  They arrive from all over the US and Mexico in their puffy coats and beanies and set up their turnsdile campsites to accommodate riders coming in and out of their laps to eat rest and then repeat.  Bikes are EVERYWHERE: high end, low end and everything in between.  There are 24 hour coffee shops and the best wood fired pizza I've tasted in a long time.  The town doesn't sleep.

My six-person team "That Baby Don't Look Like Me" included six riders, three of whom I'd never met.  It was all put together by our team captain, Keith, who organized two corporate teams.  He also rented two campers and took them down the Monday of race week to ensure a good spot.  We all became immediate friends, mostly because we all loved bikes.

The race got off to a great start with Sally running to her bike in the Lemond-style start.  I was second to go and despite a chilly morning, our team was pumped and riding well.  Darkness fell quickly and so did the temps.  My second lap was at 1am and at mile seven, suddenly my lights both shut off.  I was a little freaked out, all alone in the freezing cold desert with no lights and some sort of a crazy coyote pack howling in the distance/very close to me.  I called the captain and discussed the possibility of riding in the moonlight until I could meet a teammate and exchange headlamps and bike lights.  But as I was on the call, a very generous and kind rider stopped and helped me out.  He took the headlamp off his own helmet and strapped it to mine.  I'll never forget his generosity.  Team 497 from Mexico, I salute you!

At 10:30am  I started and finished lap13 for our group -- no records were made or broken by our team, but we had tons of fun.  I'd highly recommend 24HOP if you're looking for a great experience on a mountain bike.  The course was rolling with about 1000 feet gain (according to my Garmin).  Lots of single track and a tiny bit of technical.  The hardest part for a slow-poke like me was getting out of the way of the fast guys.  Most were pretty cool about asking to pass when it was safe for me. 

This event is for the young at heart -- and at 52, my heart is sometimes ahead of my mind.  But you're never too old to play in the dirt! 


Sunday, October 7, 2018

Utah In It's Ahhhhsomeness!

A quick weekend in Utah and we headed directly to our one of our favorite spots on the earth:  Park City.  Enjoy some pics of our morning jaunts on/in/around Armstrong Trail and upper Main Street Trails.  

Friday, August 17, 2018

When Life Happens

I'm having a little bit of a pity party over here.  My foot is in an orthotic shoe from the Morton's neuroma surgery I had two weeks ago and things aren't healing in the lightening fast speed that I'd hoped for.  I just put my mother in an assisted living home and am wrestling with the guilt from that.  I can't wake up and join my friends for a morning run like I used to.  And it's one million degrees outside so I am home for hours during the day with a newly empty-nesterhood situation. 

Poor me, right?  Sheesh. 

This sort of funk doesn't happen to me often.  For the past 15 years I've banked on athletic endorphins to top off my happiness.  When one asks the question: why do you tri?  I can answer without a doubt that a daily swim, bike and run is an exhilarating treat for me.  The adrenalin of the next race and the joy of checking off another Ironman are what my training friends and I refer to as the "finish line junkie" in all of us. 

So when some of that disappears and my event calendar fizzles out, I need a boost.  Tri friends in cyber space:  what are your tips?  Share with me your wisdom.  Show me some love. 

Coaching others is one key to my life that sustains that my joy.  I love watching others compete and accomplish what they previously thought they could not do.  I get so much excitement helping them design a path for their success.  And I know I have been there when their personal struggles have happened to them. 

Today it's my turn.  I know I'm going to be okay -- this too shall pass.  And perhaps this sadness is just a way to empathetically remind myself that life is messy.  It's rarely the path you really planned for yourself.  The twists and turns along the way and our choices of how we react to these U-turns can make or break us.  I choose to make it today. 

See ya soon, running shoes. 


Monday, June 11, 2018

Ironman Santa Rosa 2018

Redemption!  Ironman Santa Rosa was the fix I needed after a nasty fall/dehydration episode at Ironman New Zealand.  Since the race was just about eight weeks out from that disaster, it was my first and quickest opportunity to get back on the horse and finish what I started.

The race was a success and I crossed the line not with my best time, but certainly respectable at 13:30.  I was satisfied that this day was just what I wanted it to be:  a chance to cross a finish line at another Ironman.  

But enough about me.  Here is the nitty gritty about the race.  

First: Santa Rosa is beyond beautiful.  The green rolling landscape and miles of endless vineyard and was simply breathtaking.  It's a spectacular place to hold an event like Ironman.  With the new routes from Southwest Airlines directly into Charles Schultz airport, the traveling was simple and easy for me.  (I'm from Arizona).  I used Tri-Bike Transport for my bike transportation, which knocked it out of the park this time.  Super convenient, two thumbs up.  

Santa Rosa from the sky

Second:  Logistics were a little more difficult at this IM than at others I have done.  There are two transition areas.  T1 is 25 miles or so from Ironman Village, at Lake Sonoma.  After listening to advice from Purple Patch Fitness, I paid an extra $40 to Tri Bike Transport to shuttle my bike to T1 on the eve of race day.  This proved unnecessary since I drove out to the lake the day before the race to scout the course and get a swim in.  I could've easily taken the bike up with me at this time.

Another issue about this race is the extremely long transition from swim to bike.  Easily a quarter mile in length uphill, you need to factor in quite a long T1 time to your race day goal.  This was a doozy of a hill after swimming 2.4 miles.  But actually a forecast of what was to come.

T1 includes this extremely long carpeted hill

Third:  The elevation gain!  Wow, I don't know why the SR Ironman website advertised 3900 vertical climbing, perhaps they were using the stats from the previous course?? 2018 had a new, "improved" bike course.  My stats came in with over 6200 feet of elevation gain.  And I was not the only athlete who clocked in this amount.  The IMSR Facebook page had numerous complaints that the elevation advertised was not what happened.  It was an extremely difficult bike course with major headwinds on the second loop.   There were also a lot of crazy turns and corners in the last 20 miles of the course, but I survived and was never so happy to be off my bike!

Straight from my Garmin:  6,299 vertical feet 
Fourth:  The run was just really, really great.  It's is a three-loop course on a flat running path that winds along a riverbed.  Huge trees shaded the path for the entire distance and provided relief from a pretty warm day.  I LOVED this run.  The crowd support, the aid stations, the sponsors -- especially the enthusiastic Base Performance team kept this run upbeat and fun for everyone was overwhelmingly amazing.  There are LOTS of people on the run that you are passing or are passing you, the entire time.  This was my favorite part of the day, which I've NEVER said about the run on any course.

Fifth: The finish!  You've got to hand it to Ironman, they know how to make a finish line a party.  With Mike Reilly there to announce the arrival of every finisher, Santa Rosa truly lived up to the hype.  There is nothing better than waving to your family and friends after a grueling day of 140.6 torturous miles where you didn't quit, you kept going, and you lived to tell about it.  This was Ironman number seven for me.  Will I go back to Santa Rosa?  I'm not sure.  It would take a lot of convincing and a LOT more miles of lonely training days.  But in the end, I loved this race and am so glad I got the chance to do it.

Scenes from Santa Rosa:  
Sooo many vineyards 

Devastation from the horrific 2017 fire 

Thanks for being my biggest supporter, Todd!  

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

An Ironman, A Crash, And A Hero

It's no secret that Ironman is a selfish sport.  Training six days a week, often two times a day, going to bed when the sun has barely dipped below the horizon, missing social events and late night parties -- it's an all encompassing time commitment on every athlete who attempts it.  On course at IMNZ one of the printed signs read: "If you're still married, you didn't train hard enough."  And that's a pretty accurate statement.  IM takes a toll on not only the participant, but his family and friends, as well. 

Which is why the story of my guardian angel is so amazing to me. 

On the beautiful morning of March 3,  2018, I was in Taupo, New Zealand, about to claim my sixth Ironman finish.  I was looking forward to Mike Reilly shouting once again, "Lorie, YOU are an IRONMAN."  I had traveled across the ocean with my husband and friends and one other athlete friend, Melanie.  She was going for number two and we were ready for the day ahead. 

We had both agreed we were finish line junkies.  We loved the pageantry that Ironman provides to it's racers -- so much hype and excitement surrounds that red carpet finish line.  It's an amazing event and everyone who races has their own story of triumph and endurance that got them to the start line and would sustain them through to the finish line. 

The morning started perfectly.  The waters were glass on race day and I cruised my way to a 1:10 swim (third in my age group), racing out of the water to a quick six-minute transition.  Then, off to the 112 mile bike portion of the event. 

It was in lap two of the bike that I realized my legs were twitching and jumping as I looked down at them, begging for hydration and electrolytes.  Agh, the wind and the tri bike aero position were taking a toll on my awesome day.  I desperately needed some more electrolyte water, so at the aid station before the final turn around, I slowed down and asked the volunteers for a bottle of NUUN.  "We are out!" was their response.  And I knew I was in trouble. 

I tried to down some water to see if my legs would settle down, but as I made the turn at mile 87, I had to reevaluate.  My legs were seizing at this point - it was hard and harder to pedal.  I needed some relief.  In my head, I thought that maybe if I stood up on the pedals, I could stretch out my cramping legs. 

Bad idea.  When I went from the horizontal aero position to a standing position, I got light headed and lost my balance, crashing my bike hard onto the asphalt.  It felt like I had done a face plant right into the road; my helmet was broken, the eye shield was smashed in two, I had road rash from my shoulder to my ankle, and I was curled up like a beetle on it's back, unable to stretch out my legs due to the dehydration. 

I laid on the road with my eyes closed, not willing to muster the strength to get off my back.  Suddenly two participants were by my side.  "Are you okay?" they leaned down and asked.  I was, but I desperately wanted them to move me off the hot pavement, which they did.  One of them told me he was an ER doctor and was wondering how he could help.  I told him about my dehydration and he quickly offered two salt tabs -- like magic, I began to feel better.

The two good Samaritans made sure I was not dying on the side of the road, and then flagged down the motorcycle race official, who called for the ambulance.  The EMTs treated my cuts, road rash and tended to my hydration.   In the ambulance they took my chip, told me I was being sent back to the medical tent and that my day was done.  I never even got to thank those to athletes who stopped their race to make sure I was okay. 

Devastation.  All those hours of training, getting up in the wee hours of the morning in the dark to get my long ride in for the day.  Hours upon hours upon hours of training -- lost in a matter of minutes.

I carried my broken helmet and shoes to the medical tent, along with my broken heart, and later reunited with my husband and friends.  Melanie was still out on the course and after a bite to eat, a shower and plenty of liquids, I followed her on the course and ran the last 10 miles in the dark -- just to get a feel of what I was missing.  Wow -- that run was killer, and kudos to everyone who completed that! 

But the story does not end there.  After an adrenaline and adventurous week on the spectacular North and South islands, we were back in Auckland airport retrieving our bikes from stowage.  Every once in awhile you'd see a person wearing their Ironman t-shirt or visor.  In line with me was an athlete, so I naturally asked him about his race.  In turn, I told him my story of crashing and DNFing.  "Wait," he said "this is all starting to sound very familiar.   Were you wearing black and green?  Was it about mile 87 on the bike?"

Yes. Yes.  And Yes!  "That was ME who stopped and helped you to the side of the road,"  he said.  Julian, was my guardian angel!  We high fived and hugged and I finally gave him a proper thank you.  After selfies and meeting each others' spouses, we said farewell and flew home. 

Ironman is a selfish sport.  It's true.  But there are also people in the world who are good, who will sacrifice their finish time to stop and help someone else.  People like Julian are the antithesis of selfish.  They do the right thing.  May I never lose sight of that goal.  Thanks again for teaching me how to be better. 

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Everything You Need To Know About Ironman New Zealand

Put Ironman New Zealand on your MUST-DO triathlon list.  It lives up to the hype.  It's well-run, beautiful, spiritual, physically challenging.  IMNZ has it all.  Here are a few things you need to know before you race.

TRAVEL:  Travel is rough.  From LAX, it's a 13+ hour flight into Auckland on the North Island.  Did you know NZ is comprised of two islands, North and South?  Well, it is.  We traveled to Auckland on a Monday night and arrived on a Wednesday morning, losing a day for travel.  If you can swing business or premium economy -- it's money well spent.

From Auckland, it's a three hour drive to Lake Taupo, the host city of the event.  You'll need to rent a car large enough to transport your bike.  And be aware that you drive on the "wrong side" of the road while you are in the country.

Taupo is a smallish city, so reserve your hotel ASAP.  We stayed at the Reef Resort which was conveniently located on the run course.  The hotel was situated between the circle of the run, so runners ran on both the front side and the backside of the hotel, very easy for spectating!  It was about 5k from the finish line, and a warm pool and jacuzzi on site, and also had a mini kitchen so you could prepare your pre-race food right in your room.


Swim:  Perfect swim in the cool waters of Lake Taupo.  This year was the first year they allowed swimmers to finish their swim down the river that leads out of the lake, significantly improving swim times, due to a small current.  This venue also allows you to get into the lake for practice any time before race day -- some venues don't allow solo pre-race swimming.  It's a ONE LOOP swim, well marked and not too much sun in your eyes on race morning.  Two thumbs up from me.

Bike:  Two loop bike course that takes you past some of the most beautiful scenery of the area -- farmlands, rolling hills, trees before routing you back to the start line for lap number two.  Good course, but seems endless on the second loop due to the pickup of winds and spreading out of participants.  Also, the aid stations had run out of Nuun hydration by the middle of lap two, which proved disastrous for me.  Be prepared for the false flats and crosswinds of the outbound course, nothing too pitchy, except for the small hill in the first 5 miles of the beginning of the loops, but just lots of steady rollers that went on forever.

Run:  HILLY!  If you're not training on rolling hills, do yourself a favor and add that into your training plan.  This course has rollers and seems to be and endless three-loop course of difficult uphill stretches.  If you're a slow runner and will be running in the dark, it gets VERY dark out there.  The loops back into town with the supportive crowds will boost your energy as you make your way back out for loops two and three.

Finish:  Spectacular finish line, with bleachers and a red carpet to greet you at the end of your long day.  Well done, New Zealand!  I hope to be back again sooner than later.

This Ironman was expensive, here's why:
1. Airport Travel and seat upgrades
2. Bike disassembled (before I left by a mechanic) then reassembled and broken down by the mechanic in Taupo, then reassembled back in the states.  Whew! Pricey!
3.  Bike Stowage at the Auckland airport during travel to the South Island
4.  Hotels
5.  Large passenger van rentals in two different islands and GAS!
6.  Food -- restaurants and food was very expensive in NZ.
7.  Swag -- you gotta get your merch to show people you did the race, right?
8.  Excursions.  We filled our days with adventure everyday.  Here are some of the things we did:

North Island:

South Island:
Maori greets at the Pre-Race Welcome Dinner

Huka Falls

LDS Stake Center in Hamilton 

Rotorua Tree Walk 

Kaituna Cascades


More Hobbiton 
Sheep show at the Agridome 

Waimoto Glow Worm Caves


Shotover Jets

AJ Hackett Bunjy Jumping

Milford Sound

Wanaka Deep Canyoning 

Paragliding in Queenstown 

Tuesday, February 20, 2018


In 2011, Karen Scoresby and I qualified and ran the Boston Marathon.  It was before the world was afraid of pressure cooker bombs or mass shootings.  The marathon was a pure event, untouched by the chaos and evil in the world.  Everything about this race was happy and exciting, especially at Hopkinton high school, the start of the race.  Karen and I sat there (pictured above) at the staging point for the race in the cold morning air, while her husband and his friends found us cardboard to sit on to keep our bums from getting wet in the morning dew.

It was a sight to see Karen and I run and train together: she's all of five one and I tower over her at 5'11".  My strides were twice hers, but those little legs could match me toe for toe.  We had an even running pace and it worked.  We had a pact that we would "save" our interesting stories for the long run day,  when we could get every detail and/or gripe out to each other.  We had an understanding that what was said on the long run, stayed on the long run -- zipped up tight and never repeated.  It worked for us.  I'll miss those long, cathartic runs with her.

Karen passed away on February 2, 2018.  She was 52 years old -- too young.  She developed an aggressive glioblastoma brain tumor which she fought valiantly for 20 months.  She leaves behind a husband, four children and a grand daughter, along with vast swath of friendships that came together last week in support and love for her.   Karen is not the first of my friends to die of this awful disease.  And she may not be the last.  Cancer is a roulette curse that falls on it's victims with no mind for who is ready to take on the enormous burden.

Our group of running ladies still meet at the same corner we have for the last 15 years.  We have all dealt with our own heartbreaks and problems.  We continue to meet because running (biking, swimming, hiking, yoga, pilates, exercise) is our own natural antidepressant.  Running unites us with a common goal, which may just be jogging to the next stoplight some mornings.  It is the sweat and the cadence and the heartbeat and the speed and the slow and the push and the pain and the breathing and the exhilaration all wrapped into something called a workout.  Memories are made and friendships are built on the long run, whether that's three miles or 20.

So find your people.  Create some memories.  Life is precious and so are those that you love.  Keep running.  Keep fighting.  Keep dreaming.  It's worth it.

Que lindo es sonar despierto.
How lovely it is to dream while you are awake.

Dreams That Have Come True