My First Triathlon: Race-Report Ironman California 70.3

Accenture IRONMAN 70.3 California Oceanside

~ By Andy Blasquez

Here is my first ever race report from my first ever triathlon.

Ironman Foundation - and worth every penny.

Before I get into the full race reports, here's a quick Beginner Triathlon Tip of the Week.

This week I was reminded that Triathlon is a part of my life, rather than what I live for.  The week got away from me, time wise, and there was nothing I could do (or was willing to do) to put in more training than I did. 

Sunday: I did my first ever "Brick" workout: 1 miles swim, left the pool at the 31 minute mark, directly into a 100 minute trainer session at at Z2, 128-138 bpm averaging 171 watts.  
Wednesday: 60 minute Z2 trainer session at 178 watts
Friday, 100 minutes Z2 trainer session at 168 watts.

That's all I had!  That's it! I just had to let it go.  Tomorrow is another day, and I'm not getting paid to do this.  I'm doing this to enhance my life...not take it over.

I was in awe! 

For the record: 59 Degrees is cold.

To say that I was in awe of the event was an understatement.  Simply registering was mind blowing; standing
behind Miranda Carfre. After registration I immediately took my wetsuit for a trial run.  This would be my first ever open water swim.  Yes, it was Thursday and I was going to "Swim" in the ocean for the first time.  I've surfed and done scuba, but never "swam" as such.  I was told by someone in registration that the water was 59 degrees. That didn't mean anything to me.  I didn't have anything to compare it to. I do know that it was cold enough to immediately cause pretty severe pain in my head.  I tried swimming for about 20 minutes.  I tried to swim at all.  It just wasn't going to happen.  Not the way I wanted to start my race weekend.  

Thanks to a few volunteers for the suggestion, I grabbed an extra swim cap to keep my head warm.  That really did the trick.  My goggles fogged up quite a bit, but?  Maybe that's normal. I swam, with one eye on the pier, and one eye lookin' for the Men in the Gray Suits.  Cheers to small victories!  I didn't get swept out to sea, and didn't get eaten by a shark.  Game on!

The night before the race was overwhelming.  I didn't know how to put my numbers on my bike, what all the extra bags were for, where the transitions were, or how I might set them up in the morning.  Finally, about two hours later than I'd hoped, I was packed and all set for the morning to come.  Thankfully, the starting line was only 5 miles from our hotel.  Thanks honey!  GREAT job on accommodations!


Zero Dark Thirty

"People" have said that you can't sleep the night before a big race.  "People" are right. I tossed and turned all night, actually sort of giving up on sleep all together, and more or less praying for the clock to speed up so I could at least get out of bed and start the day. Eventually, the clock struck 3:30 AM and I was up.  I left a couple of minutes after 4 am and even snapped a picture of the clock in the car in an effort to amuse my younger brother.  He's one of my greatest supporters, and as a former motorcycle road racer, I knew he's appreciate the hour.

The anxiety of not even knowing where I was supposed to park to set up for T2...(or

Note the 'all pro' Monkey Graphics!

wait...was that T1)...really added to the stresses of the entire day.  Finally, however, I found a place to park not too far from T2.  I took my red bag and walked to T2.  I saw Rudy!  Yep! You know, Rudy Garcia Tolson? He's the young man with no legs who competes in international triathlons all over the world. Inspiration? Check! The morning just got even more intense! 

I set up T2 with a taste of 'home' and my real inspiration. I have two young sons, 6 & 8, a my bride who's been through so much.  My "official" transition towels are the boys' little toddler towels.  This way, if I'm lost in the chaos of transition, I can remember my true purpose. 
After setting up T2,  I headed back to the truck to grab my bike, swim bag, and T1 bag.  Looking rather like the Beverly Hillbillies with the amount of crap I was trying to carry on my bike, I headed to the harbor.

Still with a couple of hours before sunrise, I took a moment to soak up the view, and the energy of the event.  Gently coasting down the road toward the harbor, with athletes of all ages and abilities surrounding me, I heard a horrible crash.  My first real shot of adrenaline of the day! Someone immediately in front of me got one of their transition bags caught in the spokes of their front wheel, and literally flipped over the bars, landing with a heavy, head-first thump on the ground.  The unsuspecting victim laid bleeding on the ground in a pile of transition bags. Bystanders immediately came to her aid. All I could think of is, "Holy crap!  The day hasn't even started."  I stepped off the bike and re-situated my things.

After a short roll across the harbor bridge I walked my bike under the Ironman banner.  That was a special moment for me.  It was a little bitter-sweet, because with other similar experiences (playing live music at iconic venues with my older brother, and unloading a roadracing machine at Daytona International Speedway with my younger brother) I was alone.  I wanted to share the excitement, anxiety, and fear with someone who 'gets it'. That didn't happen...until later. I did, however, get an amazing feeling of "Wow, I'm actually here!" that came over me.  That in itself raised my heart rate.  Then, trying to re-focus on the task at hand, I got my nutrition sorted out, marked up my legs with my good luck markings, then really put on my race-face.

Smiled on by Paula Pezzo

Years back, I was a bit of a mess, but somehow through the pain that I always managed to prescribe myself, I could always hear my Grandmother's voice saying.  "Ok!"  Not so much in a tone of satisfaction or conviction, but in a tone as if to say, "OK! Well, I'm not sure what's next, but you're gonna be OK!"  When I raced my biggest race (up to that point of my life) I wrote "OK", in Sharpie marker, on my right thigh.  This way, when I was really suffering...I could hear that voice and somehow find peace.  This time though, things were different.  I wasn't a mess.  I was focused.  And although I still heard the comfort of my Grandmother's voice in my head, I had a more important, less self centered motivation; my wife, Adrianne, and my young sons, Michael and Jeffrey.  I'd only heard of the dreaded "Mount Mother F@#ker" on blog posts I'd read, but I knew that I'd find strength, when the moment came to dig deep, in the reminders sketched onto my thighs .

My motivation; to be better.

So, leg's inked up, I was off to get my numbers, then into my wetsuit.  Wait!  Do I leave my jersey on?  Yea, yea!  I saw that on some races I watched on YouTube, right?.  Ok...wait...no!  Wait, can I wear my heart rate monitor strap into the water?  MAN!  What am I even doing here?  So, monitor strap on, jersey on, slow down...what else do I need.  Go through what you visualized so many times and don't forget anything.  Slow down.  Sunscreen!  I know you put it on, but do it again.  This is going to be a long day.  One last trip to the 'boys room', and I was ready.

Oceanside is a wave start, so we lined up in waves; 24 waves in all.  I was in the 23rd.  OH MAN!  Really?  Am I going to be the last guy on the course?  What if everyone behind me is faster than me?  They probably are!  Who the F@#& does a 70.3 without loads of triathlon experience.  What a dork!  "It's OK".  Like Macca wrote about in his book, I'm here to win! you've filled your head with memories of success.  When it hurts, you know you can push through because you've done it in training so many times.  You deserve to be here!  Enjoy it!  If you're last, you're last.  Enjoy it."

Before I knew it, the leaders were coming out of the water!  They'd swam 1.2 miles already, and I'm 5 minutes away from even getting my toes wet.  But then it was time.  "OK, you can go!" said the volunteer at the bottom of the boat ramp.  So I took to the water. My first few breaths were very, very shallow.  It was bloody cold.  Cold like instant head ache cold.  I remember Macca talking about getting yourself acclimated to the water so I immediately took off for the start line about 150 yards away.  A bit of a sprint to get loosened up and get into race mode.  My brand new (to avoid fogging) goggles immediately filled with salt water.  They fit exactly as my previous ones did, but...the leaked.  So I stalled out and got my goggles and swim caps sorted out.  "Think calm. Think gliding. Think peace. You've got this." was going through my head.  My goal: 32 minutes.

On dry land.

The gun went off and I started swimming my race; calm, smooth, and steady.  About 45 seconds in I was gasping for air; actually gasping.  "Calm down." I told myself.  "You're fit. Just feel that glide. Breath every two if you need to."  But it never came...ever.  This swim was the worst experience I've ever had in the water.  If my family hadn't been so supportive, I'd have given up 400 yards in. That's the truth. Breast stroke, side stroke, freestyle...gasping. Breast stroke...freestyle again...gasping.  I never swam really swam.  I never found my rhythm.  After what felt like an hour, I finally got out of the water and ran up the ramp thinking, "Thank GOD I got out of the water and I'm I can get onto my bike."

Climbing out of T1

I actually did have a smile on my face as I ran with my wetsuit pulled down to my waist.  "It's a new day." I thought to myself.  "I can handle this!"  T1 was LONG for me.  I just took my time and made sure I was ready for what might be a 4 hour ride.  Needless to say, I'm not fast. Nutrition, Sunscreen, other...uh...necessities, like Dave Zabriskie's "DZ Nuts!"  I didn't want to miss anything and pay for it later, so I took my time. I finally got on the bike and rolled! I remembered some of the MaccaX crew telling me not to get sucked into the easiness of the 1st half of the ride, or the 2nd half would make me pay.  I heeded that warning, and found success. Several of the athletes on their $8,000-$10,000 bikes that got out of the water behind me passed me like I was parked.  It didn't phase me a bit.  I remembered a comment that, Francesco, one of Macca's crew posted on our Facebook group; "Andy, it doesn't take a special bike!  It takes special legs, and you've got 'em." Most, of these big dollar bikes I re-passed on the 2nd half of the course.  Guys with fancy tri-bikes, once piece suits, areo helmets, and all the high tech stuff were grabbing their hamstrings, stuck on the side of the road at the steepest point of the ride.  For me, I was doing all I could to hang with this guy from Mexico on an old steel bike....wearing sneakers!  He had special legs too!  Over the last 12 miles I didn't get passed at all and easily and comfortably passed 80-100 athletes over the 30 minutes before getting to T2.  Oceanside is a beautiful race.  The bike leg is a dream ride.  Quiet, safe, fun, and challenging.

Heading into T2

T2!  I'm gonna make it! I cruised into T2 feeling fantastic!  It wasn't a fast ride, but to be honest, I'd only run 13.1 miles twice in my life, neither time was very pretty.  My goal was to show up to the run with a fresh mind, body, and soul.  I did just that!  "Ok, sit down, socks, more sunscreen, more DZ Nuts, more nutrition, Salt Stick tablets, glasses, compression socks, number belt, Macca visor (with a little tiny bit of pride), shoes" and I was on my way.  My plan was to walk to T2 exit.  I did that.  Then an easy jog.  My 10k pace is 9min/mi.  Anything near that would be great...for me.  1st mile was all smiles. I feel fantastic.  I feel pretty fast.  I don't want to change anything because I feel fantastic.  Then, 400 yards later...it hit again.  The gasping that I felt in the morning's swim!  It was JUST like when I was in the water.  I could go as slowly as I wanted, but I could NOT catch my breath?  "Don't walk, just run slowly and smoothly!  If you start to walk...you'll keep walking.  Just be smooth and steady!"

Jeffrey (5) and Michael (7) - Team Daddy

I ran, more and more slowly.  I was really uncomfortable, and only about 2 1/2 miles in.  Holy crap!  This is gonna suck!  My heart rate was very low, but I couldn't breath!  Then...just then...boom! My wife and kids were there! I almost cried! I was so excited to see them all.  Adrianne had made shirts for the boys.  "Team Daddy!"  I heard them screaming with their eyes wide open. Their eyes were wide open!  They had smiles bigger than I'd ever seen!  "GO DADDY!" they all screamed! I jogged over to them and hugged them all!Then I remembered.  I've got about 10 miles left.  This could be a long day still.  But what a lift they gave me!  They were out there for me!  Mommy, Michael, and Jeffrey!  Man...that's love! I set off again, jogging away with buckets of motivation.  "GO DADDY, GO!"  I could hear them as I turned to run up the hill.  Then out of the corner of my eye, I could see them running kitty-corner across the parking lot to the other corner.  Laughing loudly, running, and screaming "We love you Daddy!"  My heart was full.

I made the turn away from the family and found a bit of a rhythm.  A couple minutes later, a guy came buy me and smiled.  "So. You must be Daddy!"  "Yep!" I replied.  "I'm feelin' pretty rich right now."

Built more for rugby or MMA than endurance, but I love this sport.

The run went on, continuing south for what felt like forever.  I'm still struggling with my breathing but, if I really bring my pace to a crawl, I'll be OK.  We went onto another street, away from the ocean, and I thought, "Am I 5 miles in? Am I 8 miles in?"  Then to the turn around.  "Ok, I'm headin' back now."  A couple of guys were just to my side when I heard one say to his partner, "Dude! This is 2 loops?"  "Yeah." was the response.  "Oh F@#%!" was the reply back.  Exactly my thoughts.  "Wait.  Wait!  I'm not even half way done?  Oh my.  My family is sitting on the side of the road and I'm in trouble.  I have more than 7 miles to go.  At this point, who knows how long that is going to be."  Then came the walk.  The news that I was still so far away just sucked the soul out of me.  I did a little walk jog, then some more running.  "Andy!  Andy!  It's Milhouse! You're doing it!  You're really doing it!", came from the other side; lap 2.  I crossed into the oncoming lane and stole a hug and a high-five from another one of Macca's crew.  It brought me back.  "Focus.  Yea!  If I just saw him, I'll see him again on his way back, plus I have my family...on the way back out...and at the finish!  I can do it!"

Back to start finish.  "Ok, I'm half way there."  I then stumbled upon a guy that was in about the same physical and emotional condition I was.  We ran silently, side by side, for about 5 minutes.  Finally, I broke the silence.  I needed to get my head somewhere else, and I hoped I wasn't interfering with his Zen moment.  "So why are you here, mate?" I said, with the rhythm of my breathing breaking up the question. The guy turned to me and I noticed,...no hair...no eyebrows.  I wondered if, in a selfish moment, I'd stepped somewhere I shouldn't have.  The gentleman told me that he'd just lost his best friend to cancer.  He'd shaved his head, beard, and eyebrows off, in honor of his fallen mate.  "Whew! That's great friend! Great motivation. I'm sure your friend is smiling!"  "Yep!  I can...feel him." he said with a tear in his eyes.  So why are you here?" he asked me.  "Yea...well..." Nothing came out.  "Things...I...well....things have been..." I couldn't even get the words out. After a very long pause,  "...hard. I'm just really, really happy to be here and proud to run next to you." I couldn't bring myself to share the seas of struggles, the mistakes, the broken heartedness, the injuries, and the self disappointment that I'd endured to get hear. I was doing Ironman California 70.3, and I'd just started lap two.  It hit me again. "I'm on the last lap!  That means there's no way out...but to finish!"  

Finally, with some friendly chats, some deeper than others, and cheers from Milhouse and my family, I saw the finish line.  Again, I'd visualized this in my head 100 times; 1,000 times.  I was going to grab my MaccaX visor in my right hand, and the picture of my family in the other, and reach my goal; I finished.  6:55.  A long day.  A stunning, beautiful, and life improving day.

The 1st will always be special

I crossed the line into the arms of my wife and kids.  I did something good.  I showed our boys that if you try hard enough; if you never, ever give up, you can do whatever you want. 

Motorsports was easy for me.  Going fast was natural.  This, Ironman; it's really, really hard for me.  The boys picked up a habit.  They'd ask me, every night, after reading bedtime stories and brushing their teeth, "Daddy!  Are you going swimming now?"  "Yep!", I'd say.  "Wow!  You're going to be fast Daddy!  I think you're going to win!" I would simply reply, "I'm going to try boys.  I'm going to try."

That afternoon, I was aching, but still all smiles. Aches fade.  We'd stood in the Oceanside surf for about an hour after the race, watching the kids splash and be kids, while blissfully allowing my muscles to enjoy the comfort of the ice cold water.  Then we ate.  I ate like I'd never eaten before.  I just wanted to eat everything!  Then we were off to the hotel.  Again, Adrianne's support was evident.  I got to soak in an ice bath.  The boys were well cared for...and I just soaked it all up.  I received calls from my brothers and sister, and my folks too.  My cell phone was blowing up with text messages from people who'd followed my progress online.  I was so happy.  I am so happy.

Unforgettable

Finally, about 9:30 or 10 PM, I got up to tuck in our boys and to thank them for being there with me.  I told them how thankful I was that they were there to share this special day with me.  Our son Jeffrey (5) said, (and I'll never, ever forget this...) "It's OK Daddy!  You did your best!  Thank you for winning a medal."  Then to my 7 year old son, Michael.  "Dad, I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that I'll never, ever forget putting that medal around your neck." Then he gave me a hug; the kind you don't forget.

You know, people sometimes ask why I would put myself through so much to do this in the first place? To me...I think...

...how could I not?

Tri Humor

I came across many of these cartoons while doing some research on triathlons and endurance-related sports. We endurance peeps are a strange group. I found some of these pics to be humorous; I hope you enjoy them.



The Tri Geek  - I wonder how the satellite dish on his head helps.

First Timer

The Ironman - My Grandma's idea of an Ironman.
















Obsessed Tri Guy - I've seen this guy!

The Age Grouper - Many of us are guilty of this.

The Under Prepared Guy

The Race T-shirt Guy - Is it me, or are race shirts getting uglier? Sometimes more is not more.

The Did Not Finish (DNF) Guy, not to be confused with quitter

The Technology Guy - Most of us are way too addicted to our gadgets.

The Pro - Had to include a cartoon of "The Man".

The Delusional  - This one probably best describes me, but my expectation line is way more vertical.

Vanity Tri Guy - Kind of reminds me of Vanity Smurf.

The Transition Hog

The Poor-Performance Excuse Guy - Excuses are like @## holes, everyone knows one... or two, or three.

Hitting the wall guy - Cartoon is funny. The feeling of actually hitting the wall is not funny.

The Tri Parent 

The Skinny Guy

The Buff Guy

The Supportive Spouse

The Ultra Guy - Hopefully none of my ultra friends get upset with this one.

The Swimmer - My competition seems to be walking on water during the race.

The, "I'm clearly a better swimmer than you" guy.

The Scared Swimmer 

The Social Swimmer 

The Spin Guy

The Bike Obsessed Guy

"I'm Here To Win": The Book That Gave Me Hope

For me, here's where it truly started.  Finally, I believed I could do it!

Dedicated to the friends and family of JJ Gabellini.

Your candle burned out, but your light still shines.

~ By Andy Blasquez

The book that made me believe.
A MUST READ for any Triathlete

After years of dreaming, and quite frankly kidding myself, that I was going to do 'The Ironman', something finally clicked. A switch was flipped in my head; in my gut, that made me honestly believe that I could do it.  The catalyst? I read a book; a phenomenal book.  This wasn't long ago. In fact, it was only back in October of 2012.  The vivid descriptions of the efforts, the struggles, the doubts, and ultimately the successes that Chris "Macca" McCormack experienced flipped that switch in me.  It gave me hope. I'm sincerely, forever indebted.

After years of struggling with poor results in various mountainbike races, half marathons, gran fondos, and even just organized morning rides, Macca's I'm Here To Win shone a bright light on the self defeating mindset that I owned for so long.  I don't know where it came from, but I owned it, and it was in deep.  In addition to shining a light on that mindset, the book helped me see how little I actually knew about the human body; my body.  Why was I untouchable on some days, and worthless on others?  Why could I crush 'em in the wind and rain, the suffer at the back of the pack on other picture-perfect days? Finally, and to me most importantly, I'm Here To Win candidly and openly shared how this man did something that the greatest experts and scientists in the sports arena said was physiologically impossible. Chris "Too big to win in Kona" McCormack won in Kona. In fact...he did it twice!  If Macca could prove science wrong, then maybe I could prove myself wrong. Maybe I could become and Ironman; something I'd dreamed about with, tears of hope, for over 30 years.

One night, after listening to the book on the trainer at the gym, I felt so moved and compelled to express my gratitude to Macca that I sat down at my laptop and poked around on the internet until I found out how to reach him.  Ultimately, I found MaccaX.com. I drafted an e-mail to whomever was going to receive it.  It wasn't so much that I needed him to know how much he'd helped me, but I needed to distill my thoughts through writing, and to send my gratitude, even if he'd probably never see it. To my surprise, it wasn't a day later when I received an e-mail from Chris himself.  I was in shock, sitting at the computer with what had to be a ridiculous look on my face.  This guy; this icon, wrote back....to me?  He was incredibly kind and supportive, offering me an opportunity to join a group of like minded folks that he'd drawn together online.  I quietly asked to be admitted and was immediately welcomed by the most amazing group of people I've ever known.  Ask...anything...about anything...anytime...from anywhere in the world...and you'll have answers absolutely immediately.  Better still, you'll have the right answer; several right answers.  Which one applies to you, you'll have to figure out on your own.

Jumping in with both feet

As part of this group, I received access to 15 phenomenal sessions; real session, that a guy I completely trusted and admired used to knock down walls, and to crush the competition and his nay-sayers.   Now I'd seen dozens of videos, YouTube channels, DVDs, and websites telling me how I can become a better triathlete.  NONE of 'em helped.  Maybe it was all me...but they were all virtually worthless.  Macca's MaccaX program is different.  Not only does he make suggestions for what to do, but he tells why as well.  He tells you how to do it, and what it will do for you.  Even though the level of performance of the athletes in the group vary tremendously, the sessions all came with .pdf  files that outlined each of the 15 session as they applied to a beginner, an intermediate, and/or an expert triathlete.  For me, they were and are both timeless...and priceless.  They're their for the whole journey and beyond.

Now, for the first time in my entire life, I was at peace with my goals and with my path toward Ironman.  I did a few key sessions and felt so damn good about 'em that I immediately entered the San Jose Rock & Roll half-marathon.  I ran exactly 4 times, then completed my 13.1 mile race.  No, not a recommended plan of attack, but I smiled the whole time!  I finished that day with a very slow 2:13.  Aching, but the aches went away.  The smile still hasn't.

On the drive home, I rang my brother Tim and shared how the day went.  We roadraced motorcycles together for years, and we're truly the best of friends.  He reminded me of a phrase that we used to inspire each other before we went out on the track.  "Always ride over your head!"  It may sound irresponsible, but we both learned early that our abilities are far above our belief in ourselves.  So, with aching muscles, I went home and registered for Ironman California 70.3. It was scheduled for March 31st, 2013.  This was, well and truly, over my head. The event was virtually sold out, so I cut the sizable check to cover the Ironman Foundation entry fee.  I simply didn't care.  I was going to take the next step; the next leap.  I wasted too much time; too many years; decades...doing the wrong things.  Thanks to Macca and the support of his band of experts and age groupers, I thought to myself, "I'm going for it...now."

I spent nights in the pool; cold nights.  I remember it being 29 degrees one night when I got out of the pool at 10:30 PM.  I put in some long days on the bike; long for me.  100k here, 50 miles there.  95 miles and nearly 9,000ft one day, and loved it all.  I ran 10k, 3 nights each week for a couple of months.  I did hill repeats (which I'm still horrible at).  I learned about race nutrition.  I found some great podcasts and other great contacts and resources, like Rich Roll, and Ben Greenfield. All of this was new.  All of it was right.

Depending on friends, near and far, for support

After recruiting the support of my good friend Jon (left: a very strong cyclist) to help me grind through some of my longer rides, I felt that I was ready for Oceanside.  Really, seriously...I pretty much had no business going, but "Always ride over your head!" was still ringing out!  I was on the right path, but certainly didn't have the base built yet.  I was still very new, and very naive.  It's not like I was hopping over to the next town for a weekend sprint triathlon.  I was driving 400 plus miles with my family in tow.  Hotels, restaurants, family outings, and I was going to be in the same race as Andy Potts, Frederik Van Lierde, and Luke McKenzie, Miranda Carfre?  What the hell was I thinking?  Or, as my middle school students might text, "WTF Mr. B?"  (Full Race Report Here) 

Remembering to enjoy the journey

What do I hope you take away from this blog post?  I can't tell you how much "belief" and "commitment" play in this game.  Macca gave me the belief. Registration...yes, registration gave me the commitment to see it through.  There's a great gal in our MaccaX group (there are countless great folks in our group) who summarizes the idea of commitment perfectly with four simple words.  Evelyn aka "Cheeks" (ya gotta be part of the crew to know that one) simply says this after she resisters and picks up her race packet: "Shit just got real!"  That's exactly what I was feeling when I registered for Oceanside.  I printed my receipt, and sort of went numb.  I vividly remember the next day, picking my son Jeffrey up from Kindergarten and this emotion came over me like I was hit by a bus, "Oh my God.  What have I done?"   Yep, 'things' in deed just got real.
My diet changed IMMEDIATELY.  There came this feeling of finality.  Along with my registration came this palpable emotion and idea that literally anything I did that was out of line with my training would rear it's ugly head on race day.  THAT is a truth that you cannot escape from in the world of middle and long distance triathlon.  If you stray, not only does your body know, but more importantly, your mind does, and I promise that doubt can be the devil in this sport.

Let me end this post with these two simple ideas:

• Believe in yourself.  Go onto YouTube and watch the stories of Ironman racers, champions, and finishers.  See who does it.  See what folks have overcome. Believe that you can do it!  
• Next, commit to it!  Find an event, and if you're a little warped (and you must be if you're interested in triathlon enough to read this blog) find an event that is well over your head and get registered. Go for it.

Go for it...now.

Hugs

Andy Blasquez

I'd love to have you follow me on my journey to Ironman Lake Tahoe 2014

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