Swim Bike Mom

I woke up one morning and decided I would become a triathlete. 

My Decision was not particularly interesting, aside from the fact that I was fat.  And out of three of the sports that make up triathlon (swimming, biking and running), I had never done any of them. Oh, and I was a mom of two kids under two years of age.  I worked full-time. So really, the Decision to become a triathlete was more like a toddler saying, I think I’ll learn to drive an eighteen wheeler today

The Decision did not make any real sense. Even worse, the Decision was riddled with all sorts of odds against me, statistical possibilities, sizing concerns, and the like.

On the morning I decided to become a triathlete, I could not run a mile without stopping. I had not ridden a bike since I was nineteen. I had worn a bathing suit (even the kind of bathing suit with shorts or a skirt) in close to a decade. But a funny thing happened. 

Little by little, I started moving forward, and one year later, I crossed a finish line. Not just any finish line, but a grand finish line in Miami, Florida:  Ironman Miami 70.3. A race made up of 1.2 miles of swimming, followed by 56 miles of biking, and finally finishing with a half marathon run of 13.1 miles. A total of 70.3 miles by sea, bike and foot. The race took me seven hours and fifteen minutes to complete. Arguably the best and worst seven hours of my life.  

I crossed the finish line wearing a size 10 running shoe and a 2XL triathlon suit.  I was probably the biggest girl within a ten mile radius that day, spectators included. I was the biggest in size. And I was huge in heart.

This blog is a tale of ridiculousness, but also a continued tale of a journey to keep moving forward... to the NEXT half-Ironman.

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