The sky was still navy blue at 6:52A when I trotted into Tempe Town Lake to start the 2.4 mile swim at Ironman Arizona. Most of the pre-race chatter was about the low water temperature, but I’d grown numb to any trepidations about cold water since swimming/surviving in sub 50F temps at Alaskaman, so I didn’t pay much attention to any of it. Yes, the swim would be cold, but it’d be a tough swim for me no matter what, my only focus was to find reliable feet, stay on course, and reach the real reason I traveled to race in the desert for the third time, to ride Big Red over 112 miles as fast as I could.

**Running toward T1. PC: Lynne Fiedler.**

Swim Time:
1:13:00
17th - (40-44)

The distance from the “swim exit” to the transition area felt like a 5K, but I didn’t mind catching my breath and thawing out my frozen feet while running gingerly for miles across grass and carpet En route to my gear bag and the changing tent. I was simply grateful to be out of the water, upright, and closing in on the day-date with Big Red I’ve been obsessing about all year, going after a 5:10-15 bike split.

On the two previous occasions I’ve raced Ironman Arizona, (2010, 2017), I’ve stayed far enough away to need to drive in and park on race morning, I didn’t want to do that this year. Simplicity is key. Therefore, I booked a room at the Marriot Residence hotel back in May which had a plum location at about an eight-minute walk from Tempe Town Park, AKA, Race Base Camp. However, shortly after 5A on Sunday morning, when I made the right turn to walk down Mill Ave., a gust of wind shoved me forward an extra step. I couldn’t help but laugh, because if it was windy before sunrise, well, it would be windy all day.

The bike course was three loops leading out from Tempe Town Park, weaving through town and onto Beeline highway until the turn around at about mile eighteen, and then back into town. I was ready for the headwind to kick up at the mouth of Beeline Highway, instead it swallowed us up at the mount line.

And kept chewing all three loops.

Thankfully, I trained many, many, many miles in the wind leading into this race, I was prepared, but I needed at least eight feet of still air to reach my goal, but the wind was relentless.

Even with a fantastic tailwind to shoot us all the way back to town, (holding steady speeds of 27-30MPH), once I reached the top of the turnaround on the second loop and saw that my Garmin read 2:53hrs. at 56 miles, I felt a tug at my heart. Can I still make it?

But then the wind shifted on the third loop.

It didn’t disappear, but it calmed down, so I slammed my effort all the way back up Beeline Highway, and instead of moving at the crippling 15-16MPH like the first two loops, I was popping off the black top at 18-19MPH yelling, “On your left!” every few seconds as I sailed past other riders.

A few miles before the turn around, the wind shifted. Again.

True, it slowed me down, but its effort backfired, because instead of pushing my spirit down, it ramped my grit back up.

Once I flipped around the final turn on Beeline Highway, I glanced at my Garmin, and believed I could still do it, maybe finishing in 5:15 was still possible?

Maybe...

Next, I forced my effort with every molecule of energy I had left back down Beeline Highway, and then zigzagged across jagged streets with careful focus on my wheels and my Garmin, watching as the miles ticked by quickly, but slower than I needed them to. I passed the 5:15 hour mark, then 5:20... my heart jumped up to my throat, a year of hard work, gone.

I couldn’t help but laugh again like I did hours earlier on the corner of Mill Ave., because even though the wind swiped my lofty goal like a pickpocket in Central Park, easily, and with a smirk, it was no match for the belief and ridiculous patience that I was not only born with, but patience that has only hardened and grown stronger every decade since. Therefore, with less than a mile left in the ride, aware that I did not reach my goal, instead of being disappointed, I was fired up and excited for the chance to go after it again.

Bike Finish:
5:29:04
1st AG (40-44)

I stumbled a few steps when I clipped out of my bike. My left hamstring was tight, it hurt, but that didn’t matter, the race wasn’t over.

Next up, marathon #60.

I took too long in transition because I wanted to re-tape my hammer toe down again, but unfortunately, even the mightiest strip Kinesio Tape is no match for wet feet.

I ran the first five or six miles with about a six-inch range of motion, hovering at a 8:20 mile average, not great, but fine for today. That is what I kept telling myself. I wasn’t upset, how could I be? I knew the bike went well considering the windy conditions, and that was what I came for, a fast bike split, the marathon, this marathon especially, my sixtieth, was meant to be a party. But like most parties, I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible.

The course is two loops around Tempe Town Lake. The section near transition is bustling with people and laden with cheers, while the rear miles on the far side of the lake are sparse with fans, and quiet. Just before hitting mile seven, the defeated KT tape on my right foot needed to go. So, I stopped, sat down on the grass, took off my shoe and sock, ripped off the tape, put my sock and shoe back on, and started running again. Suddenly relieved of the knobby, rock like sensation in my shoe, but struck with a flash from my conscious, You haven’t run without your jacked up hammer toe taped down in over three years, T, do you think running a marathon without it is a good idea?

Right or wrong, I kept running.

**Not feeling so hot, somewhere right before I took my tape off.**

My pace slowed down as the grip on my hamstring would not let up, and when I saw Hillary again around mile fourteen, I let her know that it was bugging me. And when I saw her again at mile sixteen, clearly aware that I was not myself, she gave me a stellar note that helped me run the next ten miles with less attention toward my leg, and more ease in my heart.

**My coach,** **Hillary Biscay, giving a gimpy runner some cheers. PC: Michele Landry?**

The last few miles were really fun. I started to feel good, picked my pace, and then caught up to my friend and Biscay Coaching teammate, Dave Lundberg, and we leap-frogged each other across the last mile, until he took the lead for good all the way to the finish.

**The happy author finishing up Ironman #19/Marathon #60.**

Although my race was inconsistent, (sub-par swim, solid bike, slightly above survivable run), I smiled running down the red carpet, because completing an Ironman in any scenario is a big deal; it is a long day preceded by hundreds of long days, and the real win is to arrive at the starting line healthy. So, the moment I dipped my toes in the frigid waters of Tempe Town Lake, was the moment I knew I had already won.

Run Time:
3:56:52
13th AG - (40-44)

Overall Time:
10:56:28
6th AG - (40-44) - *Breaking news*

**Biscay Coaching** **Super-Stars: From left, Lauren Ellabarger, (3rd F35-39) Yours Truly, (6th F40-44), Dave Lundberg,(2nd M55-59),** **Coach Amy Hite, (3rd F45-49). PC: Hillary Biscay**

Furthermore, sharing the entire race weekend experience with two of my athletes added another layer to the already delicious Ironman Arizona cake, and meant more to me than I could’ve imagined. I am SO proud of them!

**Ironman Arizona finisher, Kara Turner. PC: Kate Walker.**

**Ironman Arizona finisher, Samantha Caldwell.**

Finally, it was wonderful to have Hillary there at the finish line just like she was at my first Ironman Arizona in 2010, my second in 2017, and now my third in 2022.

**Hillary and a tall endurance enthusiast.**

Oh, and although I finished sixth in my age group, (a recent update I learned on Tuesday night), due to the additional 100 Women 4 Tri Kona slots allocated to Ironman Arizona, I snagged another shot at racing on the Big Island next October.

The song and video choice this week is the amp up song that powered me through many a hard double trainer ride leading up to last Sunday, Enrique Iglesias’s cherished tune, Rhythm Divine.