Gulf Coast 70.3

Gulf Coast 70.3 was probably one of the most difficult races I've ever done. I seriously considered not starting the run. Crossing that finish line took a lot of grit and I didn't know that I had it in me. About 2 weeks before the race, my GI issues started to get worse again (for those who don't know, I have Ulcerative Colitis, an autoimmune disease of the GI tract). I really had to taper back more than planned in the weeks leading up to the race and had to just hope for the best by race day at that point. And this is why I am racing with Team Challenge for the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation. We need some cures!

Panama City Beach is a beautiful city with beach stores, restaurants, and beautiful beaches. It is
definitely a great destination for a race like this with a lot of family-friendly activities. I was excited to be racing with some of my teammates from Gainesville Triathlon Club and Super Cool Bike Team. It was great getting to spend time with new friends! Congratulations on 3rd place AG, Dīna!

Having an ocean swim, means that athletes are at the mercy of mother nature. The only ocean swim I had ever done up to that point was in Mission Bay in San Diego, so it was pretty protected from the rough seas. This race was wide-open ocean, so anything could happen. And it did.

Race morning was pretty standard. Uneventful, which is ideal. There was a long stream of athletes winding from transition to the beach. By the time I got there, the corals were already full, so I just hopped the barrier to my starting time along with a few others. It was recommended that you start at your expected swim time in normal conditions and not to under or overestimate based on what could happen. I lined up in 30-33 minutes, but that was nowhere near the time I ended in. The theory behind swimming in the ocean makes sense- dolphin dive to get past the breakers, don't drink the water, short and quick strokes if it's choppy, and breathe the opposite direction the wind is blowing from, etc. I don't have an ocean in my backyard, though, so theory vs. practice is very different.

The waves were brutal. I did swallow some water trying to get past the breakers. My goal was just to
get past that and then it would be calm. It wasn't. The wind was blowing from the east and the water was choppy. On the way out, I could only breathe to the right (in case anyone was wondering how important it is to know how to bilateral breathe- this is why!). Sting, sting, sting- All over my arms, my face, and inside my sports bra. I couldn't see anything, so I was trying to figure out if I was imagining this or if it was the salt water or whatever. It was about one gazillion tiny jellyfish. Everything hurt. As I kept going I was wondering why I was doing this. Why did I pay money to do this? Why would I voluntarily get into the water with stingy little creatures? I kept moving. Another yellow buoy. Didn't we go far enough though the stingy gauntlet yet? No. Keep going. And then another yellow buoy. Finally, the red turn buoy was in sight. Since this short stretch was now going with the wind, I lengthened my stroke and settled into a good rhythm. But that didn't last. The next red buoy signaled the turn to shore. I couldn't see the buoys very well. I felt as if I had to try to swim diagonally to try not to get blown off course. Finally, the waves started carrying me in. I was so happy to get out of there and go find my bike. 42:35. Remember that 30-33 minutes? Yeah, not quite...

Transition went pretty smoothly, and off we went on the bike. I was having fun now. The wind didn't seem to bad, but it actually kind of felt as if I had a tailwind the whole time. It felt as if I was keeping a pretty good pace. The bike course was mostly flat except for one overpass, but that was more or less it. We road along the coast, and then up toward the forest. It was a pretty ride. At one point in the forest while my mind was wondering, I wondered if there were any bears. About 30 seconds later, I saw a bear-crossing sign, so I guess that answered that question. So basically Florida can be summed up as jellyfish, gators, and bears, oh, my! Part of the course was a bit odd as it wound behind a grocery store, on a little bike path, and then eventually back to the coastal road. I was really happy with how my pace was going, which was definitely going to lead to a 70.3 PR as long as I had a good run. 3:01:33

I grabbed the rest of my nutrition, applied more sunblock (one of the many risks of IBD and the medication is skin issues and easy burning), and put on my running shoes and hat. I was just going to make a quick pit-stop in the porta-potty and then I would be good to crush the run. That's not what happened. I got stuck in the porta-potty with a sudden onset of GI issues. I think I lost so many fluids and then just being in the nasty-roasting potty, I got dizzy. I was nauseous and starting to have pain. I did not want to run. I was done. I just could not fathom 13.1 miles at that point. Another athlete saw me and told me she was stopping and recommended that I stop, too. I thought about it. I just spent 1.2 miles swimming through stingy jellyfish. Would that be all for nothing? I knew my friends and family were tracking me online, too. While I knew no one would blame me if I stopped, it did feel motivating that I had so much support behind me. I thought about everything I overcame last year to complete an Ironman, as well as the years before that. Just one foot in front of the other. Run, walk, or crawl!

I made my way walking out of transition and then walked up the steep overpass. The run course was spectator-friendly consisting of 3 loops. Once I got down the other side, I started running a bit. The next two miles, I did a combination of walking an running and had a tough time getting going. One spectator was on a bike and started cheering me on. I was not feeling great at that point, but the cheering helped. It was hot. I was starting to get nauseous and vomited. Thankfully, I had pain meds and Zofran with me, so I took those and kept going. I took ice at every aid station to keep me cool, putting some in my hat and some in my shirt). Once that kicked in about 3 miles in, I was able to run the next 7 miles. I was getting back on track! I saw the bike guy two more times during that time and he was so supportive! It really helped me mentally having a cheer section! And then it was going back downhill again. Around mile 10, I was definitely starting to bonk. I walked a lot of that mile. At the 11- mile marker, though, I knew I was close and could make it to the end. I started running again and was able to keep going. Bike-guy was there again about 12.5 miles. He told me he was a past Team Challenge athlete. Thank you, for the cheers and support. It helped tremendously when I was ready to stop. The last 1/2 mile, I was so excited when I could hear the crowd and the announcer at the finish line. This was my moment to celebrate. My day that I overcame, I was going to take it all in. I high-fived the crowds coming down the finishing chute and put my hands in the air in celebration. 2:43:05

I didn't quit. Those jellyfish stings weren't for nothing. I was a finisher. I went to the medical tent at this point, though, because I was nauseous again. They let me lie down and iced me down and got me some more Zofran. I got my finisher picture and food! My total time was 11 minutes faster than Augusta 70.3 last year and only 5 minutes off from my PR (pre- Ulcerative Colitis). So considering everything, it was a good finish. 6:39:57. Congratulations to the rest of the athletes that day, too!